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daddyjackfrost · 3 years

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Iwazumi Hajime;

Prompt 60: “You’re so beautiful in the sun.”

warnings: none! fluff! oh, it is self indulgent tho (sorry not sorry), also reading? books? yeah

iwazumi x f!reader

a/n: hi! okay so i wrote this as a treat after the bokuto angst. i think we all deserve something sweet after that. (especially since there’s more coming) this is just pure fluff. enjoy!

Iwazumi watched you with eyes filled with love, his sole focus on you as you slowly walked down the isle, your finger running against the spines of the books.

Your neck was slightly bent to the left as you read the names of the authors. You walked in an awkward position slowly as you looked for the books you had saved up for.

Every time you walked a bit too fast, the pinky that was linked with Iwazumi’s tugged you back.

You loved book shopping with Iwazumi because even though the man wasn’t as passionate about books as you were, he was always interested in the books you were reading, and often found the books you wanted before you did.

You had no idea how, especially since he usually only came into the store with you, but you never asked him. Though the books that just happened to appear on your bookshelf were a big indicator as to why he knew where all the books were.

Iwazumi would never tell you that he actually did like books. Not because he was sure you would beat him up for hiding it, but because he didn’t want you to stop reading to him.

He loved it when you read to him.

“Aha! I found it, Haji!”

Iwazumi’s eyes softened as his eyes fell on your excited face. You were holding the book with gentle hands as you read the back. You both knew you already knew what The Goldfinch was about, but reading the back of the book was a habit you were not willing to break.

Iwazumi watched as a small smile formed on your lips as you finished reading the back, and then he watched as the smile turned into a frown.

Your eyes looked at the spot the book was hiding. Someone had put it in the wrong spot. No wonder you couldn’t find it.

“What’s wrong, love?” Iwazumi asked you.

He knew what was wrong. The book was not in the right spot. The Goldfinch was written by Donna Tartt, but it was in the V authors.

“Someone put it in the wrong place.” Under your breath, you mumbled, “How hard is it to put a book back where it belongs?”

Iwazumi just snorted as he pulled you towards the cashier by your pinky. You gripped the book with tight hands, already anticipating reading it.

You looked down at your linked pinkies and smiled. Iwazumi wasn’t the biggest on PDA, but he was clingy, and he needed to be touching you or close to you all the time.

You didn’t like holding hands for a long period of time since your hands usually began to sweat and get clammy, and Iwazumi loved holding your hand.

So you compromised.

Your pinky and Iwazumi’s pinky were always linked. And would be linked forever, Iwazumi firmly believed it. There was no one else for him. Only you.

The cashier smiled at you and Iwazumi. Her kind elderly eyes brightened as she saw your linked pinkies, but neither of you saw that.

“Hello, darlings. Just the one book?”

You smiled and slid the book on the counter. “Hi! Yes, just the one.”

The lady scanned the book and punched a few buttons before speaking again. “And how would you like to pay?”

Before you could answer, Iwazumi held up his debit card. “Debit, please.”

You frowned and reached for his card, but Iwazumi just moved it out of your reach, and then pulled your pinky as a warning.

“Haji, no,” you scolded. “You paid last time! Let me pay.” You looked down at your card to make sure it was the right one when you heard the small beep of the card payment being accepted.

You looked up and scowled at a triumphant Iwazumi and a smiling cashier. You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“So not fair,” you mumbled.

The cashier just laughed as she handed Iwazumi your bag. “You’ve got yourself a gentleman.”

Your eyes met the lady’s soft brown ones and you let out a small genuine smile that made Iwazumi’s heart flutter.

You squeezed Iwazumi’s pinky. “Yeah, I do.”

With a smile and a small wave, you walked out of the store, Iwazumi following close behind. Once you two began walking. you started to lightly swing your connected arms back and forth.

“Hajime, you can’t keep buying all my books, you’re gonna go broke.”

Iwazumi rolled his eyes. You two had already had this conversation one too many times. Why didn’t you understand that he wanted to buy all your books? He wanted to buy them because they made you happy. Because as much as you would deny it, he loved seeing the look of adoration in your eyes when he bought them.

“Yes I can, pretty girl. And no, I’m not.”

You just sighed and stuck your tongue out at him.

You two walked in comfortable silence. Today was a beautiful day. The sun was high in the sky, shining down. Soft white clouds decorated the blue sky and birds flew, putting on a show for all those watching.

As you admired the world around you, Iwazumi admired you.

He didn’t get many days off like this, and even when he did, you two usually opted to stay indoors.

Iwazumi’s olive green eyes wandered all over your figure. From your luscious hair to your spring dress. Iwazumi never understood how someone like you could be with someone like him.

And he probably never would.

But Iwazumi was thankful for it everyday. His life, mentality, happiness, and just overall being was so much better with you in it.

Iwazumi’s eyes landed on the familiar street sign and he frowned. He didn’t want to go home yet. He wanted to stay out and witness your beauty in the sun.

Iwazumi gently pulled at your pinky, getting your attention. The 5’10 college student’s ears were slightly red when you looked up at him.

“Hajj? What’s wrong?”

Iwazumi’s eyes landed on the park across the street.

“I don’t wanna go back yet, love.”

You nodded and adjusted your dress. “What do you want to do?”

Iwazumi looked down at you and your eyes sparkled. He had a feeling you knew what he wanted, but you were going to make him say it.

With a small smile, Iwazumi tugged you towards the park.

“Read to me under the sun.”

You laughed as you followed him, your eyes on his red ears. Seeing your boyfriend getting flustered was the favourite part of your day, and it happened so rarely that when it did, you couldn’t help but smile.

You and Iwazumi both reached the park. The park consisted of a large piece of land with a small children’s playground in the middle. Iwazumi led you to the other side of the park, away from the screaming children and the barking dogs.

Iwazumi stopped in a beautiful green patchy spot and you instantly sat down, fixing your dress and crossing your legs.

From the ground, you looked up at Iwazumi. The sun almost blinding you. You patted your lap and grinned at the wide smile that spread across Iwazumi’s face. The man instantly laid down, his head in your lap and his hands laced together on his chest.

You brought the book to your face, slightly further away so Iwazumi had a clear view of your face. You flipped through the first couple of pages and then cleared your throat, smiling for a second when your eyes met Iwazumi’s.

“While I was still in Amsterdam, I dreamed about my mother for the first time in years. I’d been shut up in my hotel for more than a week—”

Iwazumi was listening, he swear he was, but the way the sun shined on your skin, creating this beautiful glow that had allured him, had the words that slipped off your tongue uninterested.

Your free hand ran through Iwazumi’s dark hair, untangling the pieces. You read with a comfortable ease, having gotten used to reading aloud to Iwazumi. You could feel Iwazumi’s stare but you tried to ignore it.

After you had read almost two pages, you paused and your eyes flickered down.

Iwazumi’s olive green eyes shined as they looked up at you and you bit your lip, flustered at the intensity of his gaze.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Haji?”

“You’re so beautiful in the sun, my love.”

When you broke out into an embarrassed smile, Iwazumi’s heart clenched in his chest. He could stay like this forever. His head in your lap as you played with his hair, reading to him.

If there was a heaven, he knew that his would like this. With you staring down at him with a smile as the sun shined on your skin.

Iwazumi wondered if the rest of the park had fallen in love with you yet. If they too had been captured and blinded by your glow and beauty.

Iwazumi was so in love with you. He often wondered what he did to deserve you. You thought the same thing about him. What did you do in your past life to get someone like him?

Iwazumi brought his hand to your chin, gently rubbing your lips with his thumb.

This was it, Iwazumi thought. This is all I could ever want.

omg i’ve never written for iwa before. how exciting! i love him. i should write for him more.

taglist: @h-grangerstudies @iwasumi @snoozless @elektrosonix @bokuatsubro @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @addicedtoeverythinganime @uglystupidbxtch @qualitygiantshoepsychic @aoi-turtle @felixsamour

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #hq prompts #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwazumi #iwazumi hajime #iwazumi x reader #iwazumi imagines #iwazumi x you #iwazumi fluff #iwazumi hcs

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lizzy-williams · 3 years

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𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐭

🍎Warnings: dark!peter parker, manipulation, innocent!reader, smut, triggering themes, oral (male receiving), HOLY FUCK THIS IS WRONG. But holy hell... is it erotic 😏

🍎Read at your own risk!!! You’ve been warned, don’t wanna see it then don’t read it.

🍎Masterlist

🍎A/N: I am kinda in love with the dark!peter genre of fanfic, so behold the first of many 🙃 THE READER IS IN COLLEGE

“Professor?”

The voice was soft, but with an empty classroom, it was heard by the only one left in the room after his last period, his eyes averting his paper that he was grading.

As her eyes met his from the doorway as she made a soft smile, her bag slung over her shoulder as she held a few books in her hand, her demeanor calm and gentle.

“Miss [l/n], what might I be able to help you with,” the young professor spoke, a genuine smile crossing his face, setting his red grading pen down on his oak desk.

The girl peeked her head past the doorframe, hoping that the classroom was truly cleared out. She was shy, and if there was even one person, she would mutter out a ‘never mind’ and go back to her dorm and settle for the evening. But luckily the room was desolate besides the one person she truly wanted to see.

But Peter was more excited to see her than he should have been. [y/n] was his favorite student, and after things fell out with MJ, he was actually quite lonely. But [y/n]... she was perfect for him. She was brilliant, stunning, but most of all she was innocent.

In the smarts department she was a genius. But when it came to everything and anything to with adult life and culture, she was naive. And a teacher was always up for teaching the inexperienced by any means.

“P-Professor, I was just wondering if you could help me with this paper. I just wanted you to proof read and tell me what I can do to improve it,” she went on, slowly walking towards Mr. Parker’s desk.

“Yes, I guess, I need a break from grading anyways,” he acted thoughtful, even though grading papers was the last thing that he wanted to do.

“Thank you,” she gave a small smile, taking a seat in front of his desk.

But what made his breath hitch made him want to shove everything off the desk and take her right there.

As she bent down to unzip her backpack and get her folder holding said assignment, Peter could see right down her shirt, her breasts on full display, the white bra she was wearing being exposed.

I wonder what color her panties are, so fucking pure, I wonder what noises she’ll make when I-

“Mr. Parker?” [y/n] spoke, visibly concerned, snapping him out of his lust-induced funk he was in, making him blink.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, “please, why don’t you read it to me?” He suggested, resting his chin on his knuckles, his full attention on her.

“Oh, um, okay, yeah of course,” she laughed nervously, glancing down at her almost masterpiece.

But as she began to read the words in front of her, Peter was focused on something else more... distracting.

Even though only she torso could be seen over the top of his desk, his gaze trailed up and down her body, practically undressing her with his eyes, taking in every part of her, from the way her breasts looked against her sweater, or the way her hair perfectly fit her face, but most of all her lips.

He couldn’t help but think the most sinful things about them. What it would be like to kiss them, what they would look like wrapped around his cock or sucking on his fingers, or what they would look like if he came all over them.

He watched them as they moved, pronouncing each word with ease, the words she was speaking being practically unheard as she went on. And he didn’t miss the skirt that she was wearing when she walked in, perfect and white, something that just screamed “virgin”.

Time seemed to fly by as his thoughts drifted to sinful things, thinking about taking her on every surface in his classroom. On his desk, against the wall, even on top of the desk she sat at everyday in the front of the room.

“So,” she began to speak, Peter snapping into the real world again, “how was that? I think paragraph two was a little strange sounding, but does everything else sound okay?”

She was like an anxious puppy, emotionally vulnerable to criticism. But she was willing to take help if it would make her paper better. But that was in the back of the professor’s mind.

“It sounds amazing, you’re a really good writer, [y/n].”

This was the first time that the professor had used her first name, usually addressing her formally. It was strange to her, making her shift in her seat.

“I’ll tell you what. I have a special course,” he began, and of course, [y/n] always eager to learn, she perked up, “it a special one-on-one course. I save it for the smartest in each class.”

[y/n] was now completely focused on what he was going to say next, not knowing that this was the thing that would take a toll on her life as she knew it.

“That means you get a good grade on your paper there and even extra credit. It’s a little interactive, if you’re okay with that.”

[y/n] nodded hesitantly, Peter giving a smile that was hard to read, but the red flag went over her head, thinking that it was just another one of his friendly grins.

“Well, Miss [y/n], if you’ll take a seat at your normal desk, we can get started.”

She stood, making her way to her usual desk, taking a seat, Peter giving a shake of his head.

“No, no, take a seat on top of the desk, if you will,”

Without a word, she shifted, propping herself up on the flat surface, her hands folded in her lap, her legs swinging as her ankles crossed.

The position made Peter eager to get this going.

“Alright. Now, I’m going to do something, and I need you to understand that this is for a completely educational purpose, okay?”

[y/n] nodded, letting out a gentle “uh-huh,” before Peter got closer, a comforting expression visible on his face.

He nudged her thighs apart with his hands, treating her as if she might shatter. When he was finally positioned right where he wanted to be, he placed a hand on the small of her back, pressing her against him, her breath hitching, trying to keep the whimper she wanted to let out in her throat.

“I’m going to do something else now, then we can start the lesson,”

And without a response, he leaned in, his face going into the crook of her neck, laying a soft kiss. But one kiss turned into three, and soon the kissing turned into licking and nipping, the whimper now finding its way out of her mouth.

Meanwhile, Peter was in heaven. Her skin was as soft as it looked, her scent smelling like peaches and cider, and he loved the way her neck felt under the mercy of his mouth.

“Your doing wonderful, [y/n],” he muttering into her skin, the vibration making her arms wrap around him, similar to a hug.

He continued, and just before he stopped, me stuck out his tongue and licked a strip up her throat and up to her earlobe, before mumbling, “I think you’re ready to start the lesson now...”

Before she could respond, he pulled back, beginning to speak again, her arms loosening from his torso.

“Now this is a lesson that most people learn in college, but they never learn it the right way,” he began, her anxious gaze meeting his calm and collected one, “what I’m going to give you is a gift. An opportunity not many girls your age get.”

“W-What class is this for...?” [y/n] muttered nervously, “I don’t know if I want this-,”

Peter’s eyes darkened, not liking the sudden disobedience. And she was doing so good...

“You want the extra credit right? Would hate to see what it would do to your perfect grade if you missed out on an opportunity like this,” his voice was dark as he looked into her wide and frightened eyes, “don’t you want a good grade?”

[y/n] nodded, hating to think that there was ever a chance she would get a less then satisfactory grade in her favorite class.

“Good girl,” his voice softened, his hand running up and down soothingly as she began to lose tension, “I just want what’s best for you. You are my favorite student after all.”

[y/n] whispered a small ‘thank you’ but her breath hitched as she felt his hand drift farther up her thigh, up and under her skirt. With a small whimper, he touched her covered clit, making her jump.

She had never even touched herself there, the only thing close being when she would drive over a steep hill and she felt a strange feeling in her gut.

“What are you doing?” She anxiously whispered, Peter shushing her.

“Shh, this is the first lesson. Repeat after me. Pleasure is key.”

She silently repeated. She had never really had a class about something close to this accept for the sex talk they gave whatever many years ago in high school.

She felt so dirty. But what he was doing felt so good.

His actions progressed, pulling her panties to the side, his index and pointer fingers drifting across her folds. She whimpered, her nails latching onto his shoulders, her forehead now resting on his shoulder as she tried to wrap her head around what she was feeling.

“Look at you, your so wet... virgins get wet so easily...,” he growled, finding her clit quickly, making her grasp tighter onto him.

She felt as if she was in a movie. A dirty movie that her friends would sometimes put on. And every time, [y/n] would close her eyes during the sex scenes. But now it was like she was in one.

“I need you to slip off your skirt and your panties, alright? It’s time for another part of the lesson.”

Her nod was full of reluctance, but she did as she was told, her body betraying her mind. Peter watched as her clit was exposed, and absolutely hairless.

He felt like a kid on Christmas. All that time waiting, and finally seeing his gift. And it was just what he had asked for.

“I’m going to slip off your shirt and your bra now. This part requires you to be completely nude,” he said sternly.

Before she would absorb his words, her arms were pulled up, her sweater slipping off, her bra not too soon after. And unlike any other boy would, Peter removed it with ease with no trouble at all.

He stepped away, looking at his favorite student. Her hair was ruffled, her clit swollen as she stayed with her thighs spread, her breasts looking more perfect in person then he ever thought they would.

So many nights had he stroked his cock to the thought of her. The thought of what her body would look like. What sounds she would make. And most of all what she would look like on her knees.

“Absolutely stunning. Get on your knees, princess,” he pointed in front of him.

“Why?”

As soon as it left her mouth she wanted to stuff the word back in, the look in her professor’s eyes making her stomach tense.

“Get. On. Your. Knees.” He gritted, “I won’t ask again.”

She then scrambled to the ground, on her knees and looked up at him, her eyes pleading for forgiveness.

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing against her bottom lip, her doe eyes attached to his wandering ones.

“Pleasure is key, remember? And because you don’t have a partner, you’ll be mine. Now the first part is with your mouth. I’ll show you how to do it to me. And then I will do it to you, understand?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, his hands reaching for his belt, unbuckling it slowly, her eyes glued to his hands.

As soon as he pulled both his pants and boxers down, stepping out of them, [y/n] was transfixed at the sight of such a falic part of the male body.

She had never seen one up close and in person before. It was flushed pink and twitching as if it had its own heartbeat.

“Take it in one of your hands,” and she did as he said, “now cup my balls princess,”

The instructions were easy enough. But it was hard to do. For her at least.

The contact to his cock and the sight of his favorite girl on her knees for him was enough to get him to cum on the spot. But he would rather cum down her throat.

“Open your mouth, [y/n].” He instructed, and she did as he demanded, tears almost forming, “now stick your tongue out,”

She looked so perfect like this. He was ready to make this angel a little less holy. To teach her that this was only something he could give her.

“So good for me,” he weaved his hand through the back of her head and in her hair, pulling her in closer, “put it in your mouth, princess, I’ll do the rest, yeah?”

She couldn’t help but lick it first before putting the tip in her mouth, her tongue swirling around it, hoping that she was doing a good job.

But she was suddenly jerked foreword, his cock going into her mouth, his tip poking at the mouth while she gagged. Tears welled up in her eyes, making Peter reach for her hand, holding it as he pulled back out, before sliding right back in roughly. Soon he set a steady pace, the girl below him desperately trying to steady her breaths.

Tears streamed down her face, her mascara ruined, her lips swollen, her hands holding onto his thighs to anchor him. She whimpered and whined against him, wanting to stop but the vibrations from her protest only spurred him on, fucking her face, his perfect little toy.

This was everything he had imagined and more.

“Such a good girl, just like that, you’re doing amazing - fuck -,”

A few more thrusts and he was right on the edge, his hand gripping on her hair tighter and his pace faster.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck, I’m gonna cum down your throat, princess, just keep going-,”

When the warm liquid finally oozed out, she began to cough in her desperation for air. He pulled out, grabbing her jaw as he came on her face as she coughed up his cum, sobbing as she gasped for air.

And even though she was almost choked to death by her teacher’s cock, she still managed to let out a rough whimper: “Did I do good?”

“Yes, [y/n], you did absolutely amazing.” He panted, his face flushed, “I think you’ve learned enough for today, we’ll pick this back up tomorrow.” He sighed, grabbing his pants and slipping them back on and the girl scrambled to find her clothes.

Soon enough she was fully dressed, grabbing her bag. But she was soon pulled back by her arm, now facing Mr. Parker.

“Remember, [y/n], this club is only for my best students. Nobody else can know, or else they’ll all want to join. We can’t have that...,” he said quietly, giving a sweet kiss to her forehead as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, Mr. Parker...,” she muttered, hugging him gently, “thank you for the opportunity.”

“Of course. You are my favorite student after all.”

#dark!peter #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker #dark!professor!peter #dark!peter x reader

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ironmandeficiency · 3 years

Text

accidents happen

pairing: kix / mechanic!reader (afab here)

word count: 2163

summary: accidents happen even to the most careful people.

a/n: can be read as part of the kix/mechanic!reader universe i accidentally made (here, here, and here). made some tweaks to the og req but stuck to the general theme. sprinkled in a few of my oc boys for ✨flair✨

warnings: speeder crash, prego!reader

you don’t remember much of the speeder crash. it was a blur of lights, a cacophony of twisting metal and the screams of passersby as they worry about the wellbeing of those involved. that is, until your head slammed too hard against the controls and knocked you out cold.

the sensations of latex icicles checking your pulse roused you from your unconscious state. your eyes struggled against the bright lights of what you knew was the five-oh-first medbay, the foggy yet familiar voices of frantic clones being a dead giveaway. they were worried about many things—your condition after the wreck, whether you would be able to return to field work with them once you recovered, kix’s reaction once he catches wind of what happened...

kix hadn’t kept his cool when your arm was slightly crushed by general skywalker’s delta-7 aethersprite, how was he going to handle his cyare being in a speeder crash?

answer’s simple: he wouldn’t.

kix had just left the operating room when he heard the commotion of a new patient being brought in. jogging to the cot where they lifted the patient, he pushed his way through the unusually tight crowd of vode until he got to the foot of the bed. “alright boys, what do we got?”

“speeder crash just outside of 500 republica, two broken ribs, a—oh we got it taken care of kix, go get some rest-”

“you just left surgery, take a break!”

“this’ll be easy peasy, we got it!”

the voices of his brothers were agitated as the crowd was damn near trying to push him away. with a few well-placed nudges and shoulder bumps, kix realized that they indeed were trying to push him away. this just made him all the more intent on figuring out why they were trying to boot him out. he was a medic for kriff’s sake, bronco had no business trying to shove him out of the way like that!

“easy peasy my shebs, bronco! i…”

it was you.

you were lying unconscious on the bed in front of him, surrounded by brothers on all sides as the other medics, clone and civvie alike, were taking care of you. there was an oozing, bloody gash along your temple and a growing knot that was already grossly discolored.

it was instinct for kix to want to take point on this. it was you, he didn’t want anything to go wrong. and if something did go wrong, he wouldn’t want to have the scapegoat of blaming a vod for anything. it had to be on him, he had to be the one to take care of you.

the protests of several vode immediately follow kix’s insistence, multiple hands starting to pull him from your bedside. he begins to struggle against them and they immediately start to grip him tighter as they guide him towards the exit.

“you can’t do this! i need to-mmph! be here! let me go!”

“you know why we can’t do that, vod.”

“bantha karking shit you can’t! i need to be there, you don’t understand!”

arguments continued and tension mounted in the medbay, kix still fighting to get to you while the others were either treating you or holding him back. all other conscious thought ceased to be, the gut instinct of taking care of you being his only purpose.

then a firm voice booms through the chaos with enough force to wake the dead as he calls the medic’s name.

“leave, kix. that’s an order.”

rex’s heart was being smashed by his own boot as he spoke. he hated having to be the one giving the ultimatum to the frightened medic in front of him, but as captain, the burden fell onto him. kix was clearly not able to separate you from what needs to be done for the patient and he was not going to allow that kind of responsibility on his vod’s shoulders.

not if he was going to be able to sleep tonight.

rex’s eyes betrayed how much it hurt him, but the bristling of his words showed no such emotion. he couldn’t show any of this inner conflict, not as a captain and especially not as ori’vod to nearly every man surrounding your bed. but the men know that their captain isn’t heartless, that he views you as one of the best things to happen to the five-oh-first, that he has a reason for everything he does.

it takes a hell of a lot more convincing (read: sedative) to get kix to back down. rex and fives carried the medic to the barracks, taking care to lay him down gently. the proximity to the younger trooper told rex that a sedated kix was having more of an effect on him than he let on.

even though fives had other duties to take care of while on leave, rex knew that a distracted fives would not be able to complete any of them to his regular standards. so, like a good captain and ori’vod, he excused the younger brother from his tasks.

“you can stay with him,” rex could read the arc trooper like a datapad; fives was tense and afraid, two feelings that only his closest brothers would recognize on him. “he’ll probably feel better if someone’s here when he wakes up.”

“but rex—“

“i know you stayed with him the last time his cyare was injured, fives. he would be grateful to have someone with him during this.” fives nodded his thanks grimly, taking his perch at kix’s bedside.

rex returned to the medbay with haste, hoping against hope that your injuries were mild. his return to the medbay was met with you awake, recounting the story of how you were rammed by a rogue speeder that ran their traffic light.

“we’re just glad you’re okay, gotabor.”

“yeah, no speeder can keep you down.”

a wave of peace rushes over the tired captain and he takes his leave. you were okay, kix would be okay, the five-oh-first would be okay.

queen and starchild continued to praise your resilience (“the toughest mechanic in the gar” is what you’ve been dubbed) before they’re cut off briskly by morticus, whose face was sporting a strangely lighter expression, like some of the burdens he carried were lightened for a moment.

“but we also have some news, gotabor. some that you really should be told in private.”

your first instinct is to tell morticus that you trust these men with your life, that anything he had to say could be said in front of them. but something in his eyes told you that pushing the matter wouldn’t end well. “i’ll be here when you get back, boys,” you give the remaining troopers soft smiles and a gentle squeeze of their hands, reassuring them that you were okay now, that in the hands of the five-oh-first you were the safest you’ve ever been.

they took a reluctant leave, looking over their shoulders one last time as they left the medbay. it wasn’t that they didn’t trust morticus, no not that at all, it just seemed that you had a penchant for getting injured and when brothers were repeatedly injured in increasingly severe ways, they didn’t always stay around much longer.

morticus is quick to say what he needs to, privacy being a very rare luxury in a five-oh-first medbay whether on leave or otherwise. “now that we have some privacy, gotabor, i have some news.” again, there was this happier lilt to his voice that he just didn’t have. morticus was stoic, cynical, even a bit dickish on the right day. to see him smile and sound happy about something was abnormal but pleasant all the same.

“is everything alright?”

“more than alright—you’re expecting.”

your face warped in your confusion, eyebrows crinkled and lips slightly pursed. “expecting what, morti?”

this man laughed—genuinely laughed—at your reply and if you weren’t so distracted by your perplexion, you would have said something about how nice his laugh is.

“a child, gotabor’ika. you’re pregnant.”

a sly grin made an appearance, morticus’s voice slightly teasing. the air was lighter around him than it has been in a long time and he was going to enjoy it with everything he’s got. “i’m going to assume that the baby belongs to kix—“

“of course it’s his, di’kut! but we had been so careful, always using protection! i don’t know how this happened…” racking your brain, you tried to remember a time when the two of you were a little less than careful but came up empty. “we weren’t trying for this, morti. it just happened, it was an accident.”

he patted your thigh with a smile. “sometimes accidents happen to even the most careful people. just take this as a win and keep going.” something to your far left beeped—another brother’s machine—and morticus quickly reverted back to tense medic mode, scrutinizing the readings before taking notes in their datapad and returning to your side.

“you got this, gotabor. you’re made of the stronger stuff.” he flurries around you, making sure you’re as comfortable as possible before telling you to rest and that kix will be with you soon. it didn’t take a seasoned member of the resolute to know that kix was so devoted and bent on protecting you however possible, and you knew that he was probably sedated yet again. he would be here when he’s up, you know he will. you just hoped that he liked what he was waking up to.

rex made sure to stop by kix’s bunk to tell fives that you were conscious and by all accounts, appeared to only be mildly banged up. the way the tension fell from his vodika’s shoulders comforted rex, glad that he could give the arc good news to depart onto the unconscious medic before them, the smile on his face genuine as he departed from the barracks.

it wasn’t very long after rex left that kix began to stir. as predicted by fives and the rest of those aware of the situation, his first waking thoughts and concerns were for you. the arc was quick to console his vod and encouraged him to go to the medbay to see you as if kix could have been stopped. fives had to bargain (and trade some of his favorite candies from his stash) to convince kix to let him walk to the medbay with him, the medic still on shaky legs after being sedated.

everyone with a lick of sense knew to steer clear of kix until he was able to see you again. they made a path for him and fives without hesitation, knowing that all hell would be let loose if any of them tried to stop their advancing to the medbay.

“special delivery for gotabor’ika!” fives shouts as he enters, promptly getting shushed by coric and morticus.

you laugh from your cot when you hear your second favorite trooper before you see him. “over here, fives!” he follows your voice and soon, kix is being deposited on the foot of your bed with a smile.

fives grins and pokes his cheek, signaling for a small peck in return for his services. “now if you’ll just sign here-ow!” honestly he should expect the light slap you deliver to his face instead. “you got him from here, gotabor. get better soon, i don’t trust those kriffing ships without ya!” he leaves with a smile and a wave, comforted to see that you’re truly okay.

kix still hasn’t laid down with you and you’re slightly worried. by now, he’d be wrapped all over you like a tooka to lothnip. you nudge him with your foot to get his attention and when he finally meets your gaze, his eyes are wet. it looks like he’s trying his best to not cry but it’s soon to be a losing battle.

“kix, baby what’s-“

“you’re pregnant.”

the datapad with the reports of your injuries and conditions is cradled in his palms. bloodwork has never lied to him before but every nerve is on edge, like this would all be pulled out from under him the moment he let himself indulge in the what-if’s.

you weren’t sure how he would react to the news and he isn’t exactly giving you any hints as to how he feels about this which slightly worries you; kix has never been one too shy away from telling you his thoughts and the fact he’s doing it now has your stomach in a knot. “honey, what-“

your question can’t even leave your lips before the datapad is tossed on the bed and he’s wrapping his arms around you, face buried into your shoulder and failing to hold back the tears. at least he doesn’t seem to be angry, that’s a plus. “i love you so much, ner gotabor,” he raises his head to meet your eyes, one hand resting on your stomach with a teary smile. “i love both of you.”

kix taglist: @blue-space-porgs @leias-left-hair-bun @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @olluea @catsnkooks @simping-for-fives @captainrexstan @mackstrut @battletales @stardustsunrisekisses @darthadeline @artemis61003 @majorshiraharu @getdookuedon @capricornrabies @jedi-mando @whovianwar @hornystarwarsbisexual @bo-kryze

#kix x reader #kix #clone medic kix #star wars the clone wars #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #swtcw #clone trooper imagine #captain rex #kix x you #tw pregnancy #pregnant!reader #afab!reader

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fortunatelyfresco · 3 years

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A Holistic Integration of Type 1 Narcolepsy into the Reading of Moist von Lipwig

Literary Interpretation, Disability, and Finding Yourself Between the Lines

As it goes, "I wrote this for me, but you can read it if you want." It might be a fun ride for anyone who is very interested in Moist von Lipwig, or narcolepsy, or both, and/or anyone who enjoys collecting small details from within a body of work and arranging them into threads that are supportable by the text, without being actually suggested by it.

Personally, I find it very interesting to read the meta behind different headcanons, and see how creators can unintentionally write a character who fits certain criteria. There are only so many traits, after all, and some of them tend to travel in groups! Humans are pattern seekers, etc etc.

The first step of reading Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic is wanting to read Moist von Lipwig as narcoleptic. Being narcoleptic myself and relating heavily to Moist, this step was very easy. I invite you to take my hand and come along, at least briefly, if you were interested enough to click the readmore.

Once you have taken that step, things start falling into place. At least they do if you're intimately familiar with narcolepsy, or if you first learn about it in detail through, for instance, a Tumblr post with an agenda :)

I'll break this down symptom by symptom, citing only the ones I both have personal experience with and see textual support for.

I'll be using OverDrive's search function to catalogue "evidence" in (the American editions of) Going Postal, Making Money, and Raising Steam, so I might miss passages that don't use certain keywords.

Please take any statements along the lines of "being narcoleptic means X" with a huge grain of salt. Sometimes it's just more succinct. Narcolepsy can manifest in many different ways, and is still being actively studied. Don't base your entire understanding of it on a fandom essay I wrote to cope with the crushing pressures of capitalism. I have not even fully read the scientific studies linked here as sources.

Here we go! Spoilers abound.

I. Excessive Daytime Sleepiness (EDS) and sleep attacks.

Being narcoleptic means (salt now, please) that your brain does not get adequate rest while you sleep, no matter how much you sleep. This is because of a disturbance in the order and length of REM and NREM sleep phases. This leads to constant exhaustion. Some sources describe narcoleptic EDS as "comparable to [the sleepiness] experienced by a healthy individual who has been sleep-deprived continuously for 48–72 hours."

(Source.)

Sleep attacks can come on gradually or suddenly. In my case, I become irritable and easily overwhelmed, and nothing matters except finding a place to lie down. A more severe attack, under the right circumstances, can put me to sleep while I'm actively trying to stay awake and engaged.

Moist refers to 6:45 am as "still nighttime." He is "allergic to the concept of two seven o'clocks in one day" and is "not good at early mornings," and the narration even cites this as "one of the advantages of a life of crime; you didn't have to get up until other people had got the streets aired."

In Going Postal, he repeatedly falls asleep at his desk. I can only find two instances, but the first one describes it as having happened "again," so it happens at least three times over the course of one week. Both of the times I found were after Mr. Pump cleared his apartment, giving him access to a bed, and I can't find any reference to the fire destroying it—just that his office is "missing the whole of one wall." His presumably wooden desk is still intact, even, just "charred."

There's also no build-up either time. No direct narration of the time right before he falls asleep, just retroactive accounting for it.

Which is primarily a function of stories not showing us every boring second, and secondarily one of the smaller ways we're shown Moist being overwhelmed and racing to keep up with himself, but tertiarily it's a great set dressing if you've already decided he's narcoleptic. Sometimes sleep is just a thing that happens, without any deliberate transition. Sometimes you sit down to catch your breath or get some paperwork done, and wake up several hours later.

I've found only one example in GP of Moist waking up in his actual bed at the post office: the morning after being possessed by all the undelivered letters. Presumably either they put him there, or Mr. Pump did.

There are two points in Making Money where Moist, in an effort to be a comforting and/or guiding hand, advises people to get some sleep. First Owlswick Jenkins, and then one of the clerks (Robert) who is worried about Mr. Bent.

I take the optimistic view that this is Moist genuinely caring about these people, not just trying to get them to do what he wants. He has always done some combination of those things (GP opens with him having befriended his jailers, after all), but there's definitely a thread of him learning to treat both himself and those around him more like real people. (See also.)

Looking at this thread through narcolepsy-colored lenses, you get Moist perhaps drawing from his own experiences in an effort to be helpful. In Owlswick or Robert's position, what is something he would want to hear from the man currently in charge of his fate, or at least his job? "Get some sleep."

If we accept this as a pattern, it culminates in Raising Steam, when Moist starts to worry about "Dick Simnel and his band of overworked engineers," fixating particularly on their lack of sleep.

What sleep they got was in sleeping bags, curled up on carriage seats, eating but not eating well, just driven by their watches and their desire to keep the train going.

[...]

"People are going to die if we push them any further," he said to Dick. "You lot would rather work than sleep!"

[...]

The young man swayed in front of him and Moist's tone became gentle. "And I see now that part of my job is to tell you that you need some rest. You've run out of steam, Dick. Look, we're well on the way to Uberwald now, and while it's daylight and we're out of the mountains it's going to be the least risky time to run with minimum crew. We're all going to need our wits about us when we get near the pass. Surely you can take some rest?"

Simnel blinked as if he'd not seen Moist the first time, and said, "Yes, you're right."

And Moist could hear the slurring in the young man's speech, caught him before he fell and dragged him into a sleeping compartment, put him to bed, and noted that the engineer didn't so much fall asleep as somehow flow into it.

Moist then recruits Vimes to help him talk the rest of the engineers into getting some rest. The two of them briefly commiserate about people not realizing how important it is.

"I have to teach that to young coppers. Treasure a night's rest, I always say. Take a nap whenever you can."

"Very good."

II. Insomnia.

This is a lesser-known but very common symptom of narcolepsy. Or a comorbidity, depending on how you look at it. It seems counterintuitive if narcolepsy has been presented to you as "sleeping all the time," but it makes sense once you know it's really a matter of disruption in the brain's ability to regulate sleep cycles.

The case for this symptom is flimsier, and I fully admit I'm just reading my own experience into it. But here are two excerpts from Going Postal that I find quite suitable for my sleepy agenda:

1. "A man of affairs such as he had to learn to sleep in all kinds of situations, often while mobs were looking for him a wall's thickness away."

I latched hard onto this detail the first time I read GP.

At my worst, I could not get more than a couple hours of sleep in my bed. I kept taking naps in the bath because it was one of the few places I could sleep. It seemed to fulfill some of the criteria (isolation, temperature control, etc) that my brain demanded in exchange for playing nice.

We're told over and over again, throughout Moist's books, that he functions best under pressure.

(Brief aside: This is often cited as a reason to interpret Moist as having ADHD, which I'm also fully on board with. Not coincidentally, narcolepsy and ADHD share a few symptoms, have a notable comorbidity rate, and are treated with some of the same medications. Source.)

So again, if you're already inclined to read Moist as narcoleptic, the following is an easy jump:

"Moist thinks he's good at sleeping in strange places under strange circumstances. This is because A) his basis for comparison is a disordered attempt to sleep in normal places under normal circumstances, B) something about danger satisfies his brain into running more smoothly, and C) he's a resourceful person who is 'not given to introspection,' and so is less likely to wonder why his body demands sleep at strange times and more likely to focus on finding a place for that sleep to happen, and chalk this up later as a skill."

And returning briefly to EDS: Why would someone like Moist waste time finding a safe place to sleep while people are actively trying to kill him? At the beginning of GP, he leaves Vetinari's office and immediately goes on the run. In multiple books, when he feels threatened, his brain instinctively launches into complex escape plans. We see him successfully blend into an Ankh-Morpork crowd at least once after becoming a public figure.

So why bother? After all, a safe place to sleep is also a safe place to change clothes, or at least remove whatever distinguishing features he's given himself. Why wouldn't he just become someone else and leave town immediately?

The obvious answer is that sometimes things just happen, and an author doesn't need to know or explain every single detail of a character's past.

I would suggest, though, that one of those things might be Moist reaching a point where sleep is just not optional. A point where he not only doesn't, but can't, care about anything else. Where he is too tired to think straight, too tired to talk his way out of trouble, too tired to even contemplate the long journey from one town to the next.

2. "Moist knew he ought to get some sleep, but he had to be there, too, alive and sparkling."

Sometimes (especially in combination with underlying mental health issues) narcoleptic sleep deprivation can bypass everything I've described so far, and lead straight into a manic state. You won't necessarily find that on Google, but it's been my experience.

That's obviously not what the text is implying. "Alive and sparkling" is just a very relatable description. And we do often see Moist getting away from himself, speaking without thinking, making absurd promises that he justifies immediately afterwards as Just Part Of Being Him, always raising the stakes.

And here are a couple of excerpts from Raising Steam that could be interpreted as Moist being a light sleeper, AKA struggling to get deep sleep:

1. "And slowly Moist shut down, although a part of him was always listening to the rhythm of the rails, listening in his sleep, like a sailor listening to the sounds of the sea."

2. "All Moist's life he'd managed to find a way of sleeping in just about every circumstance and, besides, the guard's van was somehow the hub of the train; and although he didn't know how he did it, he always managed to sleep with half of one ear open."

Moist is exactly the kind of opportunist to see that as a useful tool, isn't he?

III. Hypnagogic and Hypnopompic Hallucinations.

These are hallucinations that come on as you're falling asleep or waking up. They can also happen during REM intrusions while you're awake. My most memorable ones include piano notes, someone calling my name, being trapped in the waves of a large body of water, and a huge truck going over a guard rail and tumbling down a hill. These are often, but not always, accompanied by sleep paralysis (and sleep paralysis is often, but not always, accompanied by hallucinations).

In GP, Moist casually cites his own hallucinations as proof that what is happening at the post office is not one.

"They're all alive! And angry! They talk! It was not a hallucination! I've had hallucinations and they don't hurt!"

Obviously that's not true for everyone, but it's true for Moist, and he has enough experience that he immediately recognizes the difference.

At one point while awake, Moist "[snaps] out of a dream of chandeliers" to realize someone has approached him to talk, while he was busy having visions of what the post office used to look like/could look like again.

Now, that's cheating, because we're probably supposed to assume it's a side effect of being possessed, but... I'm putting it here anyway.

There is also perhaps a case to be made for the tendency of Moist's internal monologue to lapse into extremely specific and prolonged hypotheticals. The lines between hallucinations, waking dreams, and "regular" daydreams have always been very blurry to me. I'm especially curious about the example at the end of Going Postal, which goes like this:

"Look, I know what I'm like," he said. "I'm not the person everyone thinks I am. I just wanted to prove to myself I'm not like Gilt. More than a hammer, you understand? But I'm still a fraud by trade. I thought you knew that. I can fake sincerity so well that even I can't tell. I mess with people's heads—"

"You're fooling no one but yourself," said Miss Dearheart, and reached for his hand.

Moist shook her off, and ran out of the building, out of the city, and back to his old life, or lives, always moving on, selling glass as diamond, but somehow it just didn't seem to work anymore, the flair wasn't there, the fun had dropped out of it, even the cards didn't seem to work for him, the money ran out, and one winter in some inn that was no more than a slum he turned his face to the wall—

And an angel appeared.

"What just happened?" said Miss Dearheart.

Perhaps you do get two...

"Only a passing thought," said Moist.

In-universe... what is Adora reacting to? What did just happen? The fact that these incidents are not isolated to Going Postal is a point against it being some sort of literal timeline divergence caused by The Spirit Of The Post.

So maybe Moist visibly zoned out. Maybe he had some kind of minor but noticeable cataplexy attack (more on those later) as part of a REM intrusion, brought on by the intense emotions he's currently struggling with.

IV. Vivid Dreams.

Again, at least some of this is probably supposed to be part of the possession, but I've been professionally projecting myself onto the surreal dreams of magically afflicted characters for years. Do try this at home.

1. "Moist dreamed of bottled wizards, all shouting his name. In the best tradition of awaking from a nightmare, the voices gradually became one voice, which turned out to be the voice of Mr. Pump, who was shaking him."

2. Moist is uneasy about the Smoking Gnu's plan, and then he has an extremely detailed dream about the Grand Trunk burning down.

This culminates in "Moist awoke, the Grand Trunk burning in his head," followed by a paragraph of him thinking things through and starting to form his own alternative plan, followed immediately by "Moist awoke. He was at his desk, and someone had put a pillow under his head."

So he fell asleep at his desk, woke up from a vivid nightmare, was awake just long enough for a coherent train of thought, and then passed back out. Which once again is not "proof" of anything, but fits the predetermined interpretation like a glove.

V. Cataplexy.

Cataplexy is a sudden loss of muscle control, usually triggered by strong emotions. This is thought to be a facet of REM intrusion—waking instances of the atonia that is meant to stop us from acting out our dreams.

The most well-known manifestation is laughter making your knees buckle, but it's not always that severe. My own attacks range from facial twitching, usually when I'm angry or otherwise extremely upset, to all-over weakness/immobilization and near-collapse when I laugh. My knees have fully buckled once or twice.

This is the biggest stretch. This is the one that is absolutely only there if you've already decided to read entire novels between the lines. It's also not even necessary for the broader headcanon; plenty of people have narcolepsy without cataplexy (or such mild cataplexy that it's never noticeable, or very delayed onset, etc).

However. I am doing this for fun. So I want him to have it. It's also become a major part of how I imagine Moist engaging with emotion, and I'd like to make a case for that.

There are a few scattered references to Moist's legs shaking, or being unsteady, or outright giving way, but there's usually an external physical reason, and/or enough psychological shock to justify it without a medical condition.

The most compelling example I've found so far comes from Moist and Adora's conversation about people expecting Moist to deliver letters to the gods.

"I never promised to—"

"You promised to when you sold them the stamps!"

Moist almost fell off his chair. She'd wielded the sentence like a fist.

"And it'll give them hope," she added, rather more quietly.

"False hope," said Moist, struggling upright.

"Almost fell off his chair" at first sounds like casual hyperbole, but then "struggling upright" implies it was a bit more literal. It's also an accurate description of me recovering from my more severe attacks, supporting myself on a wall or my spouse, or pushing myself up if I've fallen over in bed.

That happens to me multiple times per day, by the way. It doesn't bother me, and I didn't realize there was anything unusual about it for a long time. I barely think about it, except to fondly note that my spouse is good at making me laugh.

Which is to say, even severe cataplexy is not always noticeable or debilitating. Sometimes it absolutely is! It can be downright dangerous, depending on where you are, what you're doing, and whether you have any other conditions it might exacerbate. I don't want to undermine that.

I am just hell-bent on justifying the idea that this fictional character could have repeated attacks throughout the canonical narrative that are so routine they don't merit an explanation, or even a description. Especially for someone who is used to hiding his few distinguishing features behind false ones that are much more memorable. (See also.)

(That link goes to my own fanfic. Sorry.)

On the milder side, between Going Postal and Making Money, there are three instances of Moist's mouth "dropping open" when he's shocked, upset, confused, or some combination of the three. This is the kind of thing that shows up a lot in fiction, but rarely happens so literally in real life.

(There's technically a fourth instance, but I'm not counting it because it seems to be a deliberate choice on his part to convey surprise.)

And then there's laughter. Or rather, there isn't. I could be missing something, but I've searched all three books for instances of laughter and various synonyms (not counting spoken "Ha!"s), and what I've come up with is:

Moist laughs once in Going Postal, when he receives the assignment for the race to Genua.

Two packages were handed over. Moist undid his, and burst out laughing.

There's also an instance earlier in the book where Moist nearly "burst[s] out laughing."

I find the specifics here interesting, and, for our purposes, fortuitous. Cataplexy is complicated and presents differently for everyone. In my case, when laughter triggers an attack, one of the effects (which is sometimes also a cause) is that I laugh very hard, with little or no control. "Burst out laughing" is quite apt.

Let's move on to Making Money, and start with a quick tangent:

Mr. Bent explains that he has no sense of humor due to a medical condition, and that he isn't upset about this and doesn't understand why people feel sorry for him.

Moist immediately starts in with "Have you tried—" before getting cut off by the frustrated Bent.

Out-of-universe, "Have you tried" is such a well-known refrain to anyone with an incurable condition, I'm not at all surprised to find it in a book written by someone who had at least begun the process that would lead to a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's. And Pratchett has certainly never shied away from portraying ignorance in his protagonists.

In-universe, it feels a little odd. Moist's tongue runs away from him all the time, but usually in the form of making ridiculous claims or impossible promises. Moist's entire stock-in-trade is People Skills, and it feels strange for him to make this kind of mistake immediately after being told Mr. Bent is not looking for solutions.

But if one were reading with, for instance, the idea in mind that Moist himself has an incurable condition related to laughter and is enthusiastic about, but still relatively new to, the practice of drawing on his own experiences to help people... it is easy to imagine the gears in his head turning the wrong way, superimposing those experiences over the tail end of Mr. Bent's explanation. Disabled people are not immune to these well-meaning pitfalls.

There is another Mr. Bent moment that I want to discuss, but we'll circle back around to it later.

I found two instances of Moist himself laughing in MM.

1. "He said it with a laugh, to lighten the mood a little."

This is deliberate laughter, employed as a social tactic. A polite chuckle, probably. Not the sort of thing that generally triggers cataplexy.

2. "Moist started to laugh, and stopped at the sight of her grave expression."

The first and only involuntary laugh in MM. It doesn't always trigger attacks...

Which brings us to Raising Steam. Compared to the first two books, Moist laughs a lot here. I count nine instances. Two of them are "burst out laughing"s, a couple include him as part of a group, some of it comes off as deliberate, and some of it doesn't.

I've always seen a lot of... rage in Raising Steam. Combing through it for laughter, I realized Moist's emotions in general are much closer to the surface here, and he's much less concerned about letting people see them. He laughs with friends and acquaintances, he cries in front of strangers, he shouts at Harry King, he has that entire conversation with Dick that boils down to "I'm very worried about you," etc.

Opinions vary wildly and sharply on Raising Steam. I have my own hangups with it, as I do with most books in the series. (Every time I make a new Discworld post, Tumblr passive-aggressively suggests the tag "my kingdom for a discworld character who is normal about women and other species.")

But I like this particular change in Moist, and I choose to see it as character development. He's trading in the professional detachment of a conman for the ability to grow into himself as a person and make meaningful connections.

So, what does that have to do with cataplexy? A lot.

I don't want to get too maudlin, so I'll just say I have plenty of personal experience with emotional repression masking cataplexy symptoms. And so, I believe, does the version of Moist we've put together over the course of this post.

Which brings us back to Making Money, and Mr. Bent. He says something about Moist that I find very interesting: "I do not trust those who laugh too easily."

Unless I've missed something, at that point in the book, Moist has never actually laughed in front of him. And Mr. Bent is a man who pays very close attention to details.

So, what is the in-universe explanation for this? I'd like to propose that Moist is very skilled at seeming to laugh, without actually laughing. He smiles, he's friendly, and he makes other people laugh, which is another thing Bent dislikes about him. He gives the impression of being someone who laughs a lot. (He certainly left that impression on me; I was very surprised by the lack of examples in the first two books.)

Even staying strictly within the bounds of canon, it's easy to imagine why this might have become part of Moist's camouflage in his previous life. He wasn't looking to get attached to anyone, and he didn't want anyone getting inside his head. Engaging with people genuinely enough to laugh at their jokes would run counter to both of those things, but some of his personas still needed to come off as friendly and sociable.

Still working within the canon, it makes sense to assume he's similarly distanced himself from emotion in general. He sits in a cell for several weeks without truly believing he's going to die. He's bewildered when Mr. Pump points out that his schemes have hurt innocent people. He has no idea what to do with his feelings for Adora. Etc.

Interpreting Moist as having cataplexy adds an extra element of danger. Moist thrives on danger, but there's a difference between the thrill of a con and the threat of sudden, uncontrollable displays of vulnerability. And so it becomes even easier to see him stifling his own emotional capacity.*

We meet Moist at a moment of great upheaval. He is forcibly removed from his cocoon of false identities, and pushed out into the world as himself. And we are shown and told throughout Going Postal that he does not know how to be himself. (See also.)

He is repeatedly stymied by his own emotions. He gets tongue-tied and confused around Adora, he snaps at Mr. Pump, he lashes out at Mr. Groat, he gets lost in school flashbacks when he meets Miss Maccalariat. This thread continues in Making Money, where the sudden reappearance of Cribbins immediately rattles him into making an uncharacteristic mistake.

I called him Cribbins! Just then! I called him Cribbins! Did he tell me his name? Did he notice? He must have noticed!

Later in the same book, Moist misses a crucial opportunity to run damage control on the bank's public image... because he's excited to see Adora.

The Moist of GP and MM is not used to feeling things so deeply. It throws him off his game. I'm not at all suggesting cataplexy is the only (or even primary) reason for that, but I do think there's room for it on both sides of the cause and effect equation.

With or without the cataplexy, I find Moist's relative emotional openness in Raising Steam... really nice. (It's a work in progress. He's still getting a handle on anger.)

Cataplexy just adds another dimension. A physical manifestation of emotional vulnerability, which would have been especially untenable for a teenager on the run. Just one more facet of the real, human, fallible Moist von Lipwig who spent years buried beneath Albert Spangler and all the rest.

Another piece of himself that Moist is growing to understand and accept, as he learns to more comfortably be himself.

The Moist of Going Postal runs into a burning building to save lives without fully understanding why he wants to, and justifies it on the fly as an essential part of the role he's trying to play.

The Moist of Raising Steam mindlessly throws himself under a train to save two children, and then blows up at Harry King about the lack of safety regulations. Freshly traumatized by the murder of several railway workers and his own violent, vengeful response to it, he still offers, in the face of Harry's own grief, to be the one to inform their families. On a long and dangerous journey with plenty of moving parts to think about, he worries about Dick Simnel and the other engineers, and pushes them to take better care of themselves.

He also meets a bunch of kids who nearly derailed a train as part of a childish scheme. His admonishment is startlingly vivid.

"Can you imagine a railway accident? The screaming of the rails and the people inside and the explosion that scythes the countryside around when the boiler bursts? And you, little girl, and your little friends, would have done all that. Killed a trainload of people."

[...]

"I'll square this with the engine driver, but if I was you I'd get my pencil and turn any clever ideas you have like this into a book or two. Those penny dreadfuls are all the rage in the railway bookshops."

Maybe what he is also saying, between the lines, is:

I left home at 14 and began a life of smoke and mirrors. I was empty inside, and I thought everyone else was, too. It was all fun and games, and then a man made of clay told me I was killing people. Nip it in the bud, child. Write books.

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

*There are studies suggesting that in addition to deliberately employed "tricks," people with cataplexy may experience physiological reactions in the brain meant to inhibit laughter. (Source 1, Source 2.)

Most of the information here is way over my head, but that second link also says "one region of the brain called the zona incerta (meaning 'zone of uncertainty') was only activated during laughter in people with narcolepsy, not in controls. Research on the zona incerta in animals suggests that it also helps to control fear-associated behavior."

The linked article about that (https://www.nature.com/articles/s41467-018-03581-6) is also over my head, but I would certainly describe Moist von Lipwig as having unusual fear responses.**

**Narcolepsy is a fun roller-coaster ride of constant scientific discoveries about exactly which parts of your brain are paying too much attention, not paying enough attention, or trying to eat each other.

#moist von lipwig #narcolepsy #discworld #disabled headcanons #oh my god this got so out of hand #earned itself a title AND a subtitle #mr. cybulskis i'm sorry i fell asleep in your class every day it was at the exact wrong time and temperature and lighting

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sunfleurry · 3 years

Text

Hold Me

Click here for part 1

Part 2 of Fires and Flames.

Disclaimer: I write stories and use Harry Styles as a face claim. In no way shape or form does my writing reflect how I perceive the actual Harry to be. These are my characters, the face is just a bonus!

“Have a nice evening!”

“You too!” I yelled back before clocking out of my shift and making my way out the door.

It was dark outside, the king of night that begged to be breathed in and admired. Normally after a nine-hour shift, I would be exhausted and more than ready to go home. For some reason tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to turn in just yet. It was summertime and I loved the city lights when it was dark out. I eyed my car parked on the curb and ignored it, opting to go for a walk along the pier not too far from MediBrooke Pharmacy where I worked.

A year ago, I was at a low point in my life. I tried not to think about it too often, but every now and then, I would compare my life now to then and it reminded me to be proud of myself. I got through it, didn’t let it affect my grades, and now I was set to graduate with my PharmD degree in less than twelve months.

There weren’t too many people around as I made my way to the boardwalk, the clicking of my heels on the wooden path echoing in the quiet night. I checked the time on my phone. 20:30.

The pier was big. It was more intimidating during the wintertime when the water was turbulent, but today, it was still as a predator.

There was a man at the end of the pier, right across my destination but I did not pay him any mind. He was leaning against the railing, head hung low as he stared into the dark waters.

I was almost at my destination–a spot on the pier right under a lamppost with a built-in heater. I had left my jacket at home. At the sound of my approaching, the man across from me looked over, and my steps faltered as I beheld his face.

“Shit,” I mumbled when my phone slipped out of my hand.

Trying desperately not to look at the man, I held the strap of my purse against my shoulder and bent over to pick up my cell.

“I got it,” his deep voice said.

I hadn’t heard him approach, but I watched as he crouched down and wrapped his fingers around the device before standing back up and holding it out for me.

Harry looked different. His hair was longer and he seemed bigger–broader. I could tell he spent a decent amount at the gym since the last time I saw him over a year ago.

I jumped at the sound of my name coming out of his mouth, and seemed to remember he was still holding my phone.

I grabbed it, carefully avoiding touching his skin. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

He watched me and I watched him–both at a loss for words. I never expected to see him after our breakup. I applied to transfer to a pharmacy school away from the city, yet there he was, at my favourite spot in town, looking at me like he was seeing a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” I asked finally, almost breathlessly.

He blinked and looked over my shoulder at the water behind me. “My nan lived here. She passed away last week.”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Harry glanced back down at me with heavy eyes. Grief. “Thank you.”

A lump formed in my throat as I felt his pain like it was mine. I wasn’t sure if he even had any family left. He never gave me details when we were together.

With him standing there in front of me, I felt an internal dam break, and memories and emotions started flooding to the forefront of my mind. Pain, happiness, heartbreak, love… It was all rushing back to me.

“How are you?” The words came out of his mouth with care but also with wariness.

“Fine.” Five minutes ago, I wanted to add. Because I wasn’t fine anymore, not with the source of my heartbreak suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

He nodded.

“You?” I wanted to slap myself. His grandmother just died; of course he wasn’t doing well.

He saw the look on my face and smiled reassuringly. “Habit.”

I smiled gratefully at his understanding.

Harry suddenly grabbed my elbow and pulled me towards him. I didn’t get a chance to react as my body fell into him before a group of teenagers ran by us right where I was standing. Had he not reacted, they would’ve toppled me over.

“Sorry!” One of them yelled half-heartedly over his shoulder.

I breathed heavily as I watched their bodies get smaller and smaller the further they ran away.

I didn’t realize how comfortable I was engulfed in Harry’s scent with my cheek pressed against his chest before he started pulling away, releasing my elbow.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you.”

He rolled his lips inward and rubbed the back of his neck. “You look good. Very professional.”

I looked down at my pleated pants and button-down shirt and offered him a small thanks. “I work at the pharmacy down the street,” I explained.

He smiled. It was the first genuine smile I’d seen on him since we ran into each other. “I always knew you would succeed in what you do. You’re still studying?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to mimic his smile, but I was too busy trying not to cry in front of him. “One year left.”

“I’m so proud of you,” he said. I knew he meant it.

I bit my lip. “I know you are.” He always used to tell me how proud he was of me. Despite the way he treated me, the way I let him treat me, I knew deep down that he cared for me. He just didn’t know how to show it.

His smile fell as the memories of us came back to him. I was positive he was thinking about all those times he cooked us meals or did the dishes while I stressed over my notes, preparing for my exams. He was always supportive of my career choice and did his best to make me comfortable while I doubted myself and my capabilities of succeeding in my program.

“Look, can we just—“

“Harry?”

I whirled toward the foreign voice to see a woman whose beauty rivals any Hollywood actress approach us with a relieved smile.

“Harry,” she said again while wrapping her arms around his waist. I watched as he wrapped his own around her shoulders and held her at his side. “I was looking everywhere for you,” she scolded. “I convinced myself you fell in the water.”

He chuckled. “Sorry, I got caught up.”

It was then that the woman looked at me, as if just noticing my presence. Her blue eyes were so bright they were mesmerizing even in the minimal light offered by the pier in the darkness of the night.

She held out her hand, displaying short manicured nails. “Hi! I’m Christina.” She held up her other hand that was clutching car keys. “His chauffeur, apparently.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic.” Then he addressed me. “Christina and I met around nine months ago. She wouldn’t leave me alone since.”

“You would be lost without me,” she scoffed.

Harry only looked at her with fake annoyance for a few seconds before nudging her playfully. “Yeah, you’re right.”

She laughed.

I watched the interaction between the two with more care than I would’ve wanted to admit. A part of me felt hot jealousy start boiling from the pit of my stomach, another part of me was over the moon seeing a smile on Harry’s face that didn’t seem forced.

My eyes flicked to Christina’s hand that was clutching his forearm. I used to do the same when I caught a girl staring at him–I would touch him to silently warn her he was mine. Was that what Christina was doing at the moment?

I couldn’t suppress frowning as I forced my eyes to look away.

“We’re going to be late,” I heard her whisper.

Harry cleared his throat and said my name.

I didn’t want to look at him. I wanted to hide the tears that had already formed in my eyes that I knew must be already as red as my cheeks.

He touched my shoulder as a second attempt to get my attention.

I finally blinked up at him.

He inhaled. I shook my head with as much subtleness to make it noticeable to him only. He seemed to understand.

“Christina and I need to go.” He said, sympathy coating his voice.

I cleared my throat. “Okay. It was nice seeing you, Harry.”

He took a step toward me then seemed to stop himself. Were you going to hug me Harry? Kiss me? Why did you stop?

My eyes flickered to Christina who was texting someone on her phone with one hand, the other still clutching Harry’s forearm.

“I’ll see you around,” he said. It almost sounded like a question so I nodded.

I stood under the heating lamp post and watched the pair walk away.

_______________

“Just one shot, come on!”

My friends cheered when I finally gave in and took the shot glass from Jeremy.

I laughed at their antics before throwing my head back and welcoming the burn in my throat.

“To our final semester!” Someone yelled. We all cheered.

I made a nice friend group in my new university. I met Jeremy first when we were assigned to work together for one of my courses, and he introduced me to his friends who turned out to be great people. Today, we wrote our last final exam of the semester. We all agreed to go out and treat ourselves to a more expensive club for some celebratory drinks before the winter break separated us.

A popular song started playing and suddenly the bar blew up in cheers and synchronized singing. People rushed to the dance floor like a herd of elephants. I watched them stumble over each other, trying to find their friends to enjoy the song when a hand cut into my view.

I glanced up to find Jeremy’s brown eyes on me waiting for me to put my hand in his. When I did, he pulled me off the stool and I swiped my purse off the counter as he dragged me towards the crowd of moving bodies.

Being in the crowd made me realize it wasn’t as dense as it seemed from our table. Jeremy wrapped an arm around my waist and held my hand up to the side as he encouraged me to move to the beat with him while keeping a respectful distance between our bodies. That last detail didn’t go unnoticed by me. I appreciated it.

The song ended but another played, and the crowd screamed to the loved and familiar beat. Even I couldn’t help but sway my hips and mouth the lyrics as Jeremy lifted our joined hands and twirled me. I squealed at the motion and slammed into his chest clumsily, the both of us giggling before we continued dancing with everyone.

We stayed on the dance floor for two more songs before I told him I needed some water. He nodded and walked behind me as we started making our way to our table when I heard him ask, “What’s up, man?”

Frowning, I turned around and found him speaking to someone whose hand was on his shoulder.

I risked a glance at who caught his attention and my heart stuttered when I recognized Harry. As if feeling my gaze on him, Harry’s eyes landed on me and mind fogged up. I didn’t know what to think as I took in his soft wavy hair and green jumper that made his eye colour brighter than it actually was. I could hear him ask Jeremy if he could steal me for a second, eyes never leaving mine.

Jeremy looked hesitant at him, unsure who Harry was but then turned towards me, passing the decision on to me.

I nodded and Jeremy’s bent his head to be at eye level with me. “If you need anything…”

I offered him a smile. “I know him.”

He seemed to relax and smiled back before making his way towards our table where the rest of our friends were watching the exchange.

I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I was left alone with Harry. My breath hitched when I chanced a glance at him and realized he was already staring at me.

“Harry,” I said quietly, enough that he could hear me over the music.

“Can we talk somewhere more quiet?”

He seemed to have noticed my hesitation. He took a step forward. “You can tell your date if it makes you more comfortable.”

I frowned. “More comfortable? You think I’m scared of you?”

Harry bit his lip and looked away.

I touched his arm. “I would never…”

I felt his bicep lose tension under my fingers as he let out a breath, as if he was afraid I didn’t trust him with me alone. It broke my heart, if I was being honest.

I followed Harry to the entrance and he held the door open for me to walk outside. The air was cool, nothing I couldn’t handle under the summer night with my skirt and long sleeve blouse. The quiet of the night hit me like a brick as we stepped out of the crowded club into the silence of the almost empty street.

Harry led me to the nearest bus stop, silently asking me to sit on one of the wooden benches before joining me. I smoothed out my skirt, nervously playing with the seam.

He cleared his throat. “So… How have you been?”

I inhaled, and the scent of his cologne overwhelmed my nose. I welcomed it. “I’ve been good,” I said honestly. I was. I moved to a new place, made great friends, got the job I wanted and I was set to graduate soon.

Harry smiled, looking almost like he was relieved. “I’m glad.”

I played with a frayed end on my skirt. “You?”

“Same.”

I peered up at him, thread forgotten. His piercing eyes were already looking at me, wide and he started nodding.

“I mean it. I am good,” he smiled. “I’ve been getting help, I changed jobs, made friends.”

My heart swelled for him. I put my hand on his and squeezed. “I’m proud of you.”

He separated our hands and I suppressed my disappointment. “I just wanted to bring you out here to check up on you. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” I breathed. “Thank you.”

I couldn’t deny that everything about the interaction was awkward. I could’ve asked Harry about what help he’d gotten, about his new job, his friends… But when we were together, over a year ago, I learned not to pry when it came to his personal life. I wasn’t sure if he still felt that way.

We were swallowed by an uncomfortable silence, neither one of us sure on how to approach any subject that came up in our minds. I started focusing on my breathing as I prepared myself to stand.

“I think I’m going to head back inside,” I said, eyes everywhere but him as I picked up my purse and smoothed down my skirt.

He relaxed into the bench. “Your date must be worried about you.”

I stopped. “Jeremy is not my date.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “I didn’t mean to assume…”

I huffed a laugh. “It’s okay, he’s just a friend from school. I’m here with a group of them.”

I could tell he was recalling the people at the table Jeremy headed to before we went outside. “They seem nice.”

“They are,” I smiled. I decided to take the bait. “What about yours? Do I know them?”

He shook his head. “Just Christina. I, um, I met her in therapy.”

I had to swallow down the rising jealousy at the mention of her name.

“She was kind enough to wait with me even after her appointment was over,” he continued. “I was rude and cruel towards her, at first. I think I was trying to chase her away. I didn’t want anyone’s pity, but she stuck like a bucket of glue.”

I chuckled. “It’s hard to stay away from you,” I admitted.

His face fell. “I felt like I didn’t deserve anyone’s attention, not after what I did to you.”

It was like a bucket of water was dumped onto my head, my expression immediately morphing into one of sadness.

“Christina became a big part of my healing. Sometimes I felt like I didn’t deserve her help because I’m a grown man. I don’t need someone holding my hand along the way, but she was there. And I’m grateful for it.”

Hearing him talk about another woman like that had my feelings in a puddle. I wanted to be happy that he found someone who he could relate to and guide him through his pain and his past but I couldn’t quash the betrayal for the simple fact that he refused my help but accepted that of a stranger’s. I didn’t say anything though. No, I would never even think of interrupting him. I watched him with wide eyes as he explained everything because this was the first time my Harry had ever spoken this much about himself so freely. It made me want to cry.

“She was also dealing with some things of her own. For some reason, she still wanted to stay by my side and I kept her around. For selfish reasons, she reminded me a lot of you.”

I stiffened at the confession. He studied my reaction but I tried to pretend like it didn’t affect me. I knew I failed when my voice came out shaky and disbelieving. “Why?”

“I don’t know… She was stubborn, always forcing me to do what’s right for me even though I fought it. She checked up on me all the time, and she just…” He held my stare. “She cared.”

My eyes started watering and my anger was slowly rising. “And why, Harry, if she was so much like me, did you not think of me and all that I did for you, instead of finding someone who was just like me?”

His shoulders slouched and I watched as he fiddled with the pendant against his collarbone. “Because I didn’t deserve you,” he said pointedly. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to mother me. I was holding you back from being happy all because I refused to take care of myself.”

The tightness in my chest worsened. “You don’t get to decide what’s right for me.”

Harry’s jaw clenched. “You’re the one who left.”

I gasped. “You’re really going with that argument?!”

He sighed and slumped back against the wooden bench. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry you let me leave to instead be with another woman who reminds you of me?” I rolled my eyes.

Harry rubbed his chin as he regarded me with lines forming between his eyebrows. “Be with… Are we still talking about Christina?”

I wanted to scoff with disbelief. “Are we having the same conversation?”

“You think I’m with Christina? As in…she’s my girlfriend?”

I felt my jaw slacken. “Are you not?”

It was then that Harry threw his head back, laughter escaping from his mouth. I watched him with my widening eyes as I replayed our conversation in my head to figure out what was so funny.

He said my name with laughter in his voice after a few seconds of trying to calm himself down. He cleared his throat and turned his body to face mine on the bench. I tried my hardest to ignore the hand he laid on my knee. “Christina is just a friend.”

I shook my head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think her girlfriend would appreciate her cheating with me, a man.”

“Girlfriend?”

Harry’s smile widened. “She’s gay.”

I was at a loss for words. “Oh.”

My stomach fluttered when Harry lifted his hands and held my face between his palms. “You think I would replace you?” He asked quietly.

I prayed he couldn’t hear my rapid heartbeat. “I—” I tried to communicate with my eyes that I didn’t want to answer that question. I didn’t know the answer to it. He’d been unpredictable throughout our relationship and I wasn’t sure if he had changed or not and I refused to believe it until I saw it.

Harry gave me a mirthless smile and let go of my face. I felt heat in the spots where his fingers touched my skin and I almost asked him to put them back. “I miss you,” he whispered.

I closed my eyes then, and the tears I tried holding back fell down my cheeks. I tried stopping them, but they started coming faster and I didn’t have the choice but to drop my head into my hands to silently cry. Many thoughts and emotions were flying through my mind and I couldn’t keep up with their overwhelming pace. I felt Harry’s arm wrap around my back and pull me to him until I was flush against his side.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice broke on the last syllable. I felt him kiss my hair and squeeze me harder as I cried harder. The past year, I pushed my emotions back. I suppressed any thoughts and feelings left behind by Harry and focused on work and school. I ignored all stimuli that reminded me of him. At this moment, I knew that it was a bad idea as the heartbreak flooded my senses and I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I tried. Harry never let go as he wrapped his other arm around me until I was pressed against his chest, the fabric of his jumper muffling my sobs.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, holding me for the next few minutes until I finally stopped crying. I didn’t let go right away, I wasn’t ready to. I missed him immensely and didn’t have the willpower to separate from the familiar feeling of being so close to him, or the smell that is so distinctly Harry that it comforts me no matter where I am. After I controlled my breathing, I finally mustered up the courage to push off of him and face him.

“You didn’t bring me out here to just check up on me,” I said, not leaving room for the statement to sound remotely like a question.

Harry sighed. “No, I didn’t.”

I stared at him while holding my breath in anticipation. I knew what was coming before he even said it, but I still felt anxious.

He swallowed audibly and craned his neck to the sky as he gathered his words. “I want to try and win you back.”

Heat tingled in my heart and it spread like wildfire over my skin until I was covered in a mix of relief and desire. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I figured,” he nodded. “I don’t want you to make a decision right away.”

“I wouldn’t be able to even if I wanted to,” I said honestly.

Harry’s head dipped to his chest and he started fiddling with his necklace again. He expected my answer, but still hoped I wouldn’t say it. “I understand. Which is why I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“A date?”

He smiled. “I want you to get to know me–”

“But I already know you.”

“No,” he said. “I want you to meet the new me. I want you to give me another chance to prove to you that I am not the Harry you knew.”

The reminder of who he was reminded me of who I was with him. I was happy to be with him, I loved him. I still do, I realized, but the love I had for him overshadowed the anger and pain that our relationship carried for the year and a half we were together. He was full of self-loathing and that only took a toll on who we tried to be–who we used to be. There was Harry, in front of me, promising a second chance for the relationship we had sans the pain and I didn’t know if he was serious or not.

I looked at him with helplessness. “I don’t know…”

He rubbed his upper arm, a nervous tic I recognized a long time ago. “Please. Do you still love me?”

His piercing gaze was suddenly too intense for me and I looked down at my lap. “Why are you asking me that?” I stammered. The day I confessed my love for him was the day I left him. The memory only brought a squeezing sensation to my heart. Heat prickled in my eyes.

“I just need to know, if you still do. Because, I was too much of a coward to tell you,” he took my hands in his and held them up between our chests. “I love you too.”

I felt lightheaded as my mind processed the last four words he’d just uttered. A whimper escaped me before I threw a hand over my mouth.

“Don’t cry,” Harry whispered, bringing my hands to his mouth and pressing kisses to my knuckles. “Please.”

I expelled a shuddering breath. “I think it’s the shot I took an hour ago catching up to me.”

Harry laughed, only because he recognized my attempt to lighten the mood.

I stared at our joined hands as I tried to regain my breathing. My palms started sweating when I thought more and more about the two of us together, something I never imagined becoming a possibility ever again. I glanced at him to see nothing but genuine hope in his eyes.

Harry confessing his feelings to me was something so foreign, my body had no idea how to take it and create a reaction. It was unknown territory and I promised myself that I must tread lightly all the while keeping maximum defence surrounding my already fragile heart.

Knowing Harry, he would never lie about something like that, he had always been a straightforward man. He was against bullshitting and it was with that thought in mind that I finally stared back into his eyes and said:

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #one direction imagine

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peachyteez · 3 years

Text

little wanderer ≫ DAY FOUR, BABY STEPS.

this fellow stray cat hybrid has been hanging around jiyu’s condo for as long as he could remember, although jiyu may not have noticed him. the cold winter breeze and jiyu’s open bedroom window prompts him to sneak into her bedroom one night. it was just suppose to be one night, but the gods must’ve been smiling upon him.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @kpopnightingale, @rosesarethebest, @stillcantfindaproperusername, @bonbonhwa, @its-sarah-stark, @sanismybb, @frankenstein852, @peachseok, @woopetals, @exhofayemars, @pvrkacciosan

✧ notes: y’all, i’m so sorry san’s chapters took basically two months—

✧ WARNING: brief mention of death

back。| next。

waking up in one of the guest bedrooms, jiyu wearily blinked a couple times before remembering the events from the night before. letting out a small sigh, she sat up and stretched her arms above her head. i hope i didn’t scare him away for good this time.

the various voices and clanks of pans she could hear downstairs made her curious. she glanced at the clock above the bedroom door. 7:34 AM. she tilted her head in confusion. the five boys usually lugged themselves out of bed by 8 earliest, so what’s got them up and running so early?

slipping out of bed and leaving the room, she peered over the railing to see the five boys trying to cook what she assumed was breakfast. she saw some of them (mingi and yunho) struggling with trying to work the induction stove, while some of them (yeosang and hongjoong) were somewhat messily cracking eggs and whisking them. she swore seonghwa had slumped a little just watching them.

but what surprised her the most was the cat hybrid that had slid over to help yeosang and hongjoong.

“oh, good morning!” yunho happily greeted her with a wave. at his call, they all followed the puppy’s gaze to see jiyu staring at them from the second floor. “did you sleep well?”

jiyu nodded, not knowing what to process first—the fact that the kitchen might have a chance of burning down, or the fact that san was still there. she slowly descended down the stairs.

sensing jiyu’s confusion, seonghwa sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “we all felt bad after your little...talk yesterday,” he admitted, the others nodding along with him. like hongjoong had said the previous night, they all shared blame for her outburst since they all once shared similar thoughts with san. “and it was actually san’s idea to make breakfast...”

jiyu’s eyes widened even more before she moved her gaze from seonghwa to san, who had awkwardly hid behind yeosang. after jiyu left the room, san felt pretty guilty, which was a first for him when it came to humans. it wasn’t until the others had briefed him on their own stories with her did he start to realize that she had been telling the truth. she was right; if she had only taken care of them out of obligation for her career, she would’ve sent them to shelters after they had recovered. but no, she took them under her wing and cared for them as if they were her own children and friends.

“...so considering how you’re doing all this,” she gestured to the eggs, and other various breakfast ingredients lying around the counter, “is this your way of accepting my offer of staying?” she turned to san, or rather yeosang.

san shyly side-stepped away from yeosang. he couldn’t meet her eyes as he fiddled with his fingers. after a moment of silence, he nodded. “...if that offer still stands. i know i haven’t been the nicest, but after last night, i don’t think you’re such a bad person—”

“so you thought i was a bad person all throughout the time we’ve known each other?” jiyu teasingly pressed, keeping up an offended facade.

san’s head instantly snapped up at the realization of his words. flustered, he waved his hands in front of him defensively. “wait—no, that’s not what i meant—”

jiyu burst out into laughter and leaned onto the counter. she never would’ve thought that san would have a change of heart with the way she acted last night, yet the universe is always full of surprises for her. “don’t worry, i was just messing with you,” she explained through her laughs before calming down. “and i’m sorry if i crossed a line last night. it’s just...i’ve had a lot on my mind recently and my emotions seemed to have spilled over. i know that sounds like an excuse but for me, it’s the truth.”

although some of the hybrids in the room had no idea what was bothering her so much, they had to agree with her. ever since she went out with sunwoo the day before, she seemed lost in her thoughts more often or just zoning out.

“it’s alright, really,” san reassured. “i was accusing you of ulterior motives, too so...i think you had a right to at least be angry.”

walking up to the cat hybrid, she softly smiled and held her hand out to him. “so are we good now?”

san slowly clutched her tiny hands in his and gave it a small, yet firm shake. like proud parents, seonghwa and hongjoong looked at the interaction with proud smiles on their faces. as a matter of fact, they all did. they didn’t realize their small talk from last night would actually help san.

taking a good look at the state of the kitchen, jiyu found it amusing how they were all trying to avoid her look, knowing they were guilty of the mess. “now then...do you all need some help?” she asked, stifling her chuckles at how they eagerly nodded at her offer.

breakfast was more lively than it had been the last few days. rather than hiding in his own corner, she could see san communicating with the everyone else, herself included. the others were asking questions and just trying to nudge san to feel more relaxed around them. jiyu didn’t understand how he had a change of heart just over one night, but she was glad to see him progress.

but a question nagged at her from the back of her mind. just who was after san that they beat him to a pulp so badly? who was san and where was he from before becoming a stray? jiyu wanted to ask him so bad to see if she could offer him anymore help, but would it come off as being nosy? would san just retreat back into his little shell?

at that moment, it was like san read her mind. “i think...you all deserve an explanation...considering how i put you all at risk last night,” she nervously said, fiddling with his tail.

“only if you’re okay with it,” seonghwa reassured from next to him.

san took a moment to gather his thoughts and words. “i actually came from owners that were...well-off, you could put it. if i remember correctly, they adopted my parents first, then i was born a few years after. unfortunately, they died when i was seven due to what they told me was an accident.”

jiyu felt her heart break for san. he looked so somber at the mention of his parents that she almost told him he didn’t have to force himself. but san continued to talk.

“after my parents died, the family was so nice to me. they basically treated me like i was their own son. they had a daughter around my age, too...so i even had a friend. i thought i had everything, i thought life was great...” he paused again, pursing his lips as he reminisced his past. “but then one wrong move made me a monster in their eyes.” his ears slumped on his head as his whole figure seemed to shrink. his head was bent down, unable to make eye contact with anyone out of fear that they would reject him like his old family did.

“you don’t have to tell us what you did if it makes you uncomfortable, san,” hongjoong noted the cat’s tensed state, almost as if he was forcing himself to say what he had to say.

san nodded, an action so small and light that you could’ve missed if you weren’t paying attention. jiyu switched to the seat next to him and gently pat his back in a comforting motion. “hey, it’s okay, san. let me tell you, if you’re ever comfortable enough to tell us what you did, i swear on my life that our views about you would never change. all of us here...i’m pretty sure i can speak for all of us when i say we’ve made some horrible mistakes in the past, too.”

san lifted his head up in the slightest and saw them all nod at jiyu’s words. looking over to jiyu, he found her softly smiling at him. “i’m not exactly sure what convinced you to stay with us, but i’ll be sure to help you out in any way i can. and you can take your time with us. take baby steps into trusting us, just remember that we’re here every step of the way. and if and when the time comes that you can tell is what happened, we’ll listen with open ears and hearts. okay?”

san took her words to heart. he felt the warmth of her words, and how she genuinely meant what she said. seeing the others’ reassuring faces made things a lot better, too.

“they told me their story,” san quietly mumbled. jiyu tilted her head in confusion. “how you helped them. i guess that’s what kind of made me take the leap, too.” he confessed.

jiyu stared at the others with wide eyes. she was surprised they even vouched for her. hongjoong playfully snorted before ruffling her hair. “why are you looking at us like that? all we told him was the truth.”

yunho enthusiastically nodded. “yeah! you saved mingi and i from our old owners and the cold.” mingi nodded with a grin, his bunny ears perking up and bouncing along with his nods.

“and you saved me from getting put down,” seonghwa chimed in.

“and you helped me open up and trust again,” yeosang languidly added. it was rare for jiyu to hear yeosang say something as sappy as that since their dynamics was usually a lot of teasing (from yeosang), but whenever he did say something warm, it held all the more weight and impact.

jiyu’s bottom lip started to slightly quiver as she felt herself become overwhelmed with emotions—good ones this time. “you guys are gonna make me cry and it’s only 8 in the morning!”

san snickered. “they weren’t kidding when they said you get emotional a lot, too.”

“they what—!”

“we’re sorry, we didn’t mean it!” mingi apologized while laughing before running away to the living room couch.

“san, that was supposed to be a secret!” yunho playfully whispered before getting a light flick on the forehead by jiyu.

“alright, you all get one flick each, come here!” she mischievously smiled before going after each and every one of them. san just watched with amusement at the scene. ‘she really is like a kid on the inside.’ he mused to himself while mingi’s screams echoed around.

#9th member of ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san #choi san imagines #san imagines #ateez san #hybrid au #kpop hybrid au #ateez hybrid #hybrid!ateez #ateez au

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imagineyourworld · 3 years

Note

Congrats on the 100! That's fantastic! :) I was wondering if you could do prompt 2 with BB era Echo, please?

Hi,

Thank you so much <3!

I hope you'll like it.

Love, Charlie

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Echo x Genderneutral!Reader

Warnings: None

2. Friends to Lovers

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So far you didn't regret your decision to leave Kamino with the Bad Batch and Omega, but every now and then you questioned it a bit. Though whenever you were in one of those moods, as you liked to call it, there was Echo. Even just looking at him, hearing his voice or, even better, his laugh, in the distance helped you realize that you had in fact made the right choice. Before you left you had been a medic on Kamino, often assigned to Clone Force 99. That's how you met Echo, shortly after he joined the group, and how the two of you became close. After his rescue he had to spend a lot more time in the med bay than his brothers and you quickly came to the realization that he wasn't too fond of the droids that usually took care of the smaller injuries, which is why you made an effort to be there for him the second he entered the cold and sterile environment. To say that Echo instantly warmed up to you would be a lie, but once he did it was like the two of you had been friends forever. He told you everything, not only classified facts about the missions he went on with the others or the habits and characteristics of each member of the Bad Batch, but also about his other brothers. Fives, Rex, Jesse, soon you felt as if you knew them as well. His voice grew fond when he spoke of them, and you couldn't help but feel for him when he told you about everything he and his brothers had been through. In retrospect you should have known that you were in love with him way earlier, but the realization only hit you when he stormed into your small room, asking you to run away with him. You knew the right thing to do would be to alert the Kaminoans, the Empire, any sort of authority figure and to lock Echo in your room until they arrived. But the way he held out his hand, his human hand, for you to take and the hopeful look in his eyes made you throw your few belongings in an old backpack and follow him to the Marauder. Since then you've been through ups and downs, and the only constant in your new life was Echo. Echo, who had grown from your favourite patient, to your friend, to your best friend and now the man you were hopelessly in love with, something that Omega, with her childlike curiosity and emotional intelligence, seemed to have picked up on. "Why don't you ask him out?", Omega asked you, a question she seemed to have every now and then. "Because I don't know if he likes me", you told her. With a sigh that was just a bit louder than intentioned you closed the drawer of medical supplies you had just been sorting through. "Of course he likes you, he's your best friend", the girl replied. You now leaned against the drawer and looked at her. In the short time you had been travelling together it seemed as if she had grown already, you'd have to buy her some new clothes the next time you stopped somewhere. "I know he likes me, but I don't know if he likes me like I like him." You jumped as a new voice entered the conversation. "If you're talking about romantic feelings, I'm certain Echo has those for you", Tech told you matter of factly. Omega shot you an I told you so look, which made you roll your eyes. You liked every member of your small group, you really did, but did they have to get involved in this? "You really should just talk to him", Tech added before he left, a bacta patch in his hand.

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Talk to him, echoed in your mind all day. Easier said than done, but you knew that the more time you spend with Echo, the more inevitable it became. Maybe this was your opportunity. The two of you were out on a supply run, alone. The planet was small, but peaceful and you had time for a conversation. "Hey, Echo", you started, not even knowing what you were going to say next. "Mhm," he replied while shifting through a stack of second hand shirts. "I... You... You're my best friend, right?", you stuttered. You could see him nod absentmindedly from where you stood behind him. "Do you think Omega would like this?", he suddenly asked, turning around holding a cozy looking grey jumper with a black skull, not unlike the Batch's symbol, in the center of it. Your eyes went from Echo to the jumper and back to the clone. So much for a confession. But maybe it was a good thing, maybe you shouldn't tell him in a market, surrounded by so many other people. After all, telling your best friend that you were in love with him was supposed to be a private affair. "I'm sure she'll love it." A small smile made its way to Echo's face. You knew he didn't have much to give, not in the way of credits or material things at least, so he valued every small gift he could give. You still had a shiny rock in your backpack, which Echo had brought back for you just a few days after you met because its colour reminded him of the colour of your eyes. Looking back at it you should have known that you would eventually fall in love with that man right that moment. Or when he had returned, bloody and beaten with a malfunctioning right leg, but instead of focusing on his injuries the only thing on his mind had been to give you the necklace you now wore every day. It was simple, a silver chain with a star at the end, but it was the most valuable thing you possessed. "I still have a few credits to spare, would you like anything?", Echo asked after he paid for the jumper. You shook your head. While there are things you would want, you knew that you couldn't, shouldn't, ask for them right now. And you also knew that asking Echo to buy something for himself instead would lead nowhere, you'd tried often enough. "How about we get something to eat instead? I saw this cute little bakery on our way into town." Echo agreed and just a few minutes later the two of you walked out of the bakery, each with something called a star explosion in hand, as well as four more in your pockets for the others. "I understand the star part, but why explosion?", you asked as you looked down at the star shaped treat in your hands. Your eyes went to Echo, who had just taken his first bite and now looked at you in wonder. "Ochet", he mumbled, trying to chew and speak at the same time. You couldn't help but laugh. Most of the time Echo was serious, sometimes bordering on stern, but every now and then there was a hint of the man he might have been before his entire world went to shit, a humorous and lively side of him came to light. "Chocolate", he said again, this time with an empty mouth, but a bit of creamy nougat clinging to his bottom lip. Your laughter died down, but the smile remained. You knew that Echo loved chocolate, and rarely ever got to eat it. "A treat as sweet as you, it seems", you said, half joking and half serious. Echo didn't reply, he just looked at you in a way he's never looked at you before. Colour was rising to his pale cheeks, a sure sign that he didn't quite know what to say to that. "You think I'm sweet?", he finally asked. Now blood was rising to your cheeks as well. Maybe now was the time to confess. You had left the town behind, now walking along a flowery meadow, some might say this was the perfect opportunity. "I do." You decided not to say anything else for the moment, waiting for Echo's reaction. He smiled at you. A smile that was so sweet and genuine it warmed your heart. "I think you're sweet as well." Your heartbeat started to quicken at his words. Could this be it? The moment of truth? The point of no return? "Yeah?", you

asked, deciding in the last moment to delay your confession a bit longer. "Yeah", Echo confirmed. He looked at you and then at the star explosion in your hand. "In fact, I think you're a lot sweeter than chocolate." There was humour, but also sincerity in his voice. The hopeful part of yourself had a feeling where this was going to go, so you played along. "I think your heart is warmer than the jumper you bought for Omega." Echo laughed as he looked around, clearly trying to come up with something else. "I think you smell better than all the flowers in the galaxy combined", he told you, his eyes flitting between you and a flower on the edge of the path you were walking. Within a few quick seconds he had bent down and picked it for you, securing it behind your ear. "Good one", you told him with a smile. "I think... I think you're hotter than the twin suns on Tatooine." You knew this was a bolder statement than the ones before, but judging by the look on Echo's face he didn't mind at all. Instead he brushed the pad of his thumb along your jawline. It was only then that you noticed that not only had the two of you slowed down, you had stopped walking all together, now standing alone in the middle of the meadow with the setting sun in the distance. "I think you're more beautiful than the first ray of sunlight after a long night", he said, his voice now close to a whisper. This is is, the voice in your head told you. You took a deep breath, leaned into his soft touch and looked him deep in the eyes before you finally confessed. "I think I love you more than anyone else in the galaxy." For a moment Echo didn't say anything and you began to fear that you had ruined everything, this moment, your friendship, your future with the Bad Batch. But then a smile broke out on his face, brighter and happier than any you had seen before. "I know I love you more than anyone else in the galaxy, cyar'ika." Now it was your turn to smile. You leaned a bit closer, closing the last few centimeters between the two of you, and brushed your nose lightly against his. "Good, because I know too." "Yeah?" "Yeah." It only took that little word for Echo gently press his lips against yours. That first kiss was short and sweet and perfect. As was the second one. Only when your lips met for the third time did it turn a bit hungrier, more pressing. Echo opened his mouth to allow you to take the last hint of chocolate remaining on his tongue. Now that you've tasted both you could confirm that Echo was in fact a lot sweeter than any chocolate in the galaxy. "We should get back to the others", you whispered against his lips after yet another kiss. "I know", Echo mumbled, his lips now pressing soft kisses on your jawline. "But they can wait a few minutes, I've waited way longer for this, for you." Who were you to deny him? After all, you had waited for this moment just as long as he had.

-------

I don't know what it is about Echo that always makes me want to write the softest fluff for him, but he deserves the world after everything he's been through (as well as lots of chocolate and kisses)

#echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x you #tbb echo x you #arc trooper echo x you #echo x y/n #tbb echo x y/n #arc trooper echo x y/n #echo imagine #tbb echo imagine #arc trooper echo imagine

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justasimplesinner · 3 years

Note

Please for the love of fuck give me a happy ending to the riddler/scarecrow breaking hcs that may or may not start off with the reader running into them again and being understandably pissed. I just want to throw a vase at Eddie. I can have a mature conversation with Johnathan with some raised voices and some crying from both parties but I want to throttle that green goblin lookin motherfucker. I want to see fear in that man's eyes as I curbstomp his stank ass for living in my head and never paying rent. Cause that shit broke me no pun intended.

I'm a soft bitch I need someone to put a bandaid on the hurtie and kiss is to make it feel better.

ugh, you fuckin' softies. continuation of this post

Arkham Knight!Riddler getting his happy ending hcs:

like i stated in the previous post, you two may have not been together anymore, but that didn't mean he'd leave you alone. you were the last bit of his sanity, at this point, he didn't know how to live without you. he was constantly lying to himself and you about the motives behind his calls and visits, but truth was, he was just trying to cling on. he couldn't let you go, you were his raft in the middle of the fucking ocean, if he let you go, he'd... he wouldn't survive that. he didn't know how

but it doesn't mean that this whole thing sat well with you. fucking bastard, neglects you for years, treats you like the very dirt he walks on and now has the gall to fucking invade your private space? ruin you completely? it's like it didn't matter if you were with him or not, he'd still find a way to fucking destroy you. and you, on one hand, genuinely wanted out. you wanted him out of your life, because you had only one and you didn't want to live it in misery, you didn't want to just suffer and take it like a good puppy. you weren't even sure he realised the extent to which he fucking hurt you, because he was constantly focusing on himself and no one else, because selfishness was his coping mechanism and he wouldn't change

it was only logical that at some point, you'd have enough. you didn't want to fucking live like this. he didn't have a right to just sit there and do nothing and yet simultaneously do damage. he was a grown fucking man and it was time he made a grown fucking choice

– Well, well, well, look who decided to finally show up-... – you didn't give him the chance to finish, your fist connecting hard with his nose, or maybe it was his cheek, though you hoped it was his eye so it'd hurt the most. You didn't really know, you didn't really care, you've had fucking enough. You knew he was there, in your house, before he even opened his yapping mouth, and you didn't fancy being greeted in your only safe (or, apparently, not-so-safe) space by a fucking insult from the man responsible for all your current misery.

You didn't feel a pang of regret, quite the contrary, his stumbling form and widened eyes gave you this weird feeling of satisfaction. You kind of understood why Batman did what he did, beating Ed's ass was just too rewarding.

– I've had fucking enough of you and your stupid charade! – you didn't plan on beating around the bush anymore, it was time he was fucking faced with the consequences of what he did.

He didn't have the time to recover from your last blow before the first thing you could grab collided with his shoulder - a vase, apparently, and it shattered into small pieces upon impact. Great, now he fucking ruined your favourite vase, too, as if your life wasn't enough for him!

– You have no right to fucking invade my house and treat me like shit even after I've dumped you! – with every word, with every step you took forward, he took one back, eyes wide in genuine fear as he tried to back away from you, maintain a safe distance, as if anything could save him from your wrath now.

– If I mean nothing to you, then why the fuck are you even here?! Why the fuck do you insist on getting me all tangled up in your stupid games?! I'm not gonna fucking sit here and take it like an obedient pet just because you can't get over the fact that we're not together anymore! – you raged on, and you had no intention of stopping, you watched him back away, you watched him stupidly bump into the side of your couch and fall on his stupid fucking ass. He deserved to fall on the floor, not on a set of nice, comfy pillows. But he had no way out now. He had nowhere to run, not when you fucking rounded up on his shock-still form.

– I-... – he dared to try and interrupt you and it was truly the last straw, it was all you needed to have angry tears blur your vision and your hands clenched in fists again.

– You never even fucking apologized to me for anything either! Did it ever fucking occur to you that if, instead of tormenting me and calling me an idiot, you just fucking said you're sorry, pushed your idiotic pride aside and genuinely fucking said you're sorry, then I would've taken you back?! That maybe we wouldn't be here, in this fucking situation, if you just weren't selfish for once and apologized for all the shit you did to me, all the pain you've put me through-

– I'm sorry. – it was so quiet you almost didn't hear it. So shaky and breathy, so fucking... guilty. Heartbroken. So utterly pathetic. Just like he was, just like he looked. Just like you wanted him to be, but now that he was, you hated it. You hated his glossed over, wide eyes, the shame in them, the guilt, the pain. You hated his arms, slightly risen in a protective manner because he expected another blow. He deserved another one, but... it's like he was just a child then. Just this small, broken boy that was afraid to admit he was wrong, that was afraid of the punishment that awaited for him. And all over again, he made you want to pull him close to your chest and kiss it all better, make it so he'd never experience this pain again. And you hated yourself for it.

you've destroyed the fucking dam then. you haven't heard this man apologize to you once in your entire life, and suddenly, you were swarmed with sorries, with regrets and sorrows and his tears. suddenly, he remembered every smallest thing he ever did that made you upset, and he apologized over and over, for everything and anything, and you thought he was going to suffocate with how he was crying and rambling on your couch

god, he wasn't fucking worth it, you knew that, but suddenly, he was in your arms again, and you were soothing his shaking form, again. you were back there to ground him, to comfort him, to make him feel loved, even if he didn't deserve it. you were there to listen to his - probably empty - promises to change, even though you knew he most likely didn't have the power to change at this point, and god dammit - you believed it. or wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that maybe you were important and that maybe he will put the effort in changing for you this time as you kissed him breathless and let him cling onto you for dear life. you wanted to believe that he deserved a(nother) second chance and that there was still hope for him as you clung right back. you missed having him right there, in your embrace. despite everything. and maybe you were just plain out stupid, or maybe he truly made a promise he, for once, intended to keep. and honestly? you weren't sure if you were ready to find out

you also apologized for throwing a vase at him. he wasn't mad. if he was, you'd throw another one. he had no right to be mad

Arkham Knight!Jon getting his happy ending hcs:

Jon genuinely thought about seeking you out, hoping that maybe that would give him some closure, that it would make him able to work and function properly again. but he realised how stupid, how selfish and disgusting that was. he swore to himself he won't even fucking force you to look at his ugly mug again. he had no right to come to you, expecting the person he pushed away in order to work to help him get back to work. he didn't fucking deserve to even breathe the same air as you

he kept tabs on you though. he had to know where you lived now, where you worked, and knowing where you were at all times would be ideal too, but he didn't dare go that far as to have someone stalk you. it's not out of some creepy obsession, it's actually out of... concern. sounds ridiculous, especially since he hadn't expressed any concern for you for the past few months, but he... he really didn't want to ever hurt you again. even accidentally. even if you were to be collateral damage. he needed to know the places he could target and the places he couldn't, he needed to know when, where and on who he could test his freshest batches and when, where and on who he couldn't. he hurt you enough. he destroyed your mind enough. he wasn't about to subject you to your worst fears too

but a reunion was inevitable, it seemed. one way or another, fate was bent on bringing you two back together. and so, he missed the fact that you changed your jobs and started working at Ace Chemicals, front desk actually, passing around exactly the information he needed about the company, it's building and resources

You genuinely couldn't believe your fucking eyes. You couldn't believe his cheek. The gall he had to be standing right here, in front of you, in his tattered, dirty "glory", milky eyes seeming wild behind the mask, as if he didn't expect you to be here. As if he hadn't planned it all.

– What are you doing here? – you didn't even have the strength to get angry at him anymore. You just resigned yourself to the fact that he was going to haunt you every single day for the rest of your life, be it in person or as a fleeting thought in your mind. You weren't allowed to get rid of him. You weren't allowed to forget.

– I could be asking you the same question. – his tone was hard to decipher. As if it was emotionless, but at the same time wasn't. Like there was something behind it, something he didn't want you to see. Something he himself wasn't ready to face.

You were already too exhausted mentally to give a shit.

– I work here. – you sighed, using that mocking tone he always used on you whenever you asked "stupid" questions. Funny, how one day he tells you there are no stupid questions and that you can always ask away, that he will always listen, and then treats you like an idiot when you do.

And yet you still loved his sarcasm, loved his quips and biting remarks. This was who he was, and you did, after all, love him as a whole.

– I didn't know that. – you were actually ready to believe that, what with how he was still standing there, practically in the doorway. He didn't round up on you yet, he didn't corner you like you were his prey. Actually, it seemed he thought you were the predator, like he was... scared to come closer.

Maybe that was better for the two of you. Who know what you'd do if he started to come at you like he owned you and this whole place.

– Oh, didn't you now? – you couldn't allow him to know though. It was his turn to get the cold shoulder for once. Not that he cared enough to be hurt by it. Not that he ever cared. About you, about anything. Anything but his work.

Jesus, fuck, you couldn't break down in front of him. You already did in the past. Way too many times. You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of having the upper hand.

– You shouldn't've gotten a job here. – he seemed to feel as if he had it anyway – I work with chemicals on a daily basis and you know I'm planning to gas the entire city, it is only logical for me to take advantage of having a huge chemical factory right in the middle of it. It was obvious I'd come here sooner or later. – every word he said, he took a step closer to the desk. Every word he said, he beat you down into the ground harder. Obviously, you were in the wrong. Yet again. Always your fault. Why would you distract him from his goal yet again? Why would you meddle? It seemed that even if you didn't want to, you proved to be an inconvenience, a chink in the chain that was his research. It didn't matter what you did, it was never going to be good enough.

You two weren't compatible, after all.

– Yep, I'm stupid, I get it. Go on, psychoanalize me too, tell me how I did it knowingly just because I wanted to see you again. – you couldn't stop yourself from snarling at him. As always, he only came to you to break down what you've so carefully built back together. It was always that way, if you really thought about it. Every time you were starting to get used to his absence, starting to truly live on your own, he suddenly appeared, acted like everything was fine, acted like he loved you, and you believed it like the fool you were. You believed it and then he left you alone again. You believed it and then you woke up to an empty bed again. Every single time.

Maybe you really were a fucking idiot.

– And did you? – or maybe he was one, because this comment only resulted in riling you up more and yet he dared to fucking ask.

– I fucking hate you Jon. – you weren't ready to believe that what he just did at your words was flinching. That it hurt enough for him to physically move away. – If I wanted to look at your face again, I'd just turn on the news.

– I don't want to hurt you. – that was bullshit. He never did anything else. Hurting you was what he was best at, and he prided himself in it. – But I need access to the vast supply of chemicals your workplace has to offer. – even when you two fucking argued, it always came down to his work. Even when you told him you hated him, all he offered back was that he didn't care and came here just to get shit done. He didn't even fucking care enough to at least say he hates you back.

– You don't want to hurt me? That's a new one. – you were really tempted to just roll your eyes and go back to work. To ignore him, like he always did to you. But suddenly, you realised just how close he was. Practically leaning over the desk. His scarred face hooded and covered in a mask, hidden away from you. That face you wanted to stare into every time you woke up, that face you wanted to be the last thing you saw every day you went to sleep. That face that you wanted to kiss better, to make him know. Make him know you didn't mind. Make him know he was still handsome as ever. He never believed you, and you saw that. You saw that very clearly in his milky eyes. It's like they were fogged, like his mind was surrounded with fog and blurred reality with imagination, like there was this barrier between the two of you.

It wasn't there at first. But then he changed, and you didn't really know who he was anymore.

– I'm sorry. – it felt like pity. Like he pitied you. Like he was saying it just so you'd shut the fuck up and move out of his way at last.

And maybe it was better if you did.

– Save it. I won't get in the way of your plans, don't worry. I'm not getting paid enough to sacrifice myself for this place either way. – you were gathering your things, leaving the computer on, the information unguarded. You could use a day off, anyway. To cry in peace or whatever.

No such luck apparently, since Jonathan immediately had you in a grip, his fingers flexing against your arms.

– No, (Y/n). I'm sorry.

you really weren't ready for that conversation. not at all. you would never be ready for that. seeing Jon apologizing, hell, seeing him crying, genuinely crying in front of you, over you, wasn't something you ever expected to see. Jonathan, despite being a skilled psychologist, never really talked about his emotions. he was always hellbent on talking through yours - well, at the beginning he was, until the whole "spiralling into his obsession" thing started. then, he stopped, because he didn't have time for you. or, as he now explained, didn't have the courage to face how much he's hurt you. you really wanted to fucking punch him then, when he told you that he knew. that he knew all the time what he was doing, and yet never stopped, as if he purposefully sabotaged your relationship so you'd leave him. you knew he had his problems and you couldn't blame him for that, but you could blame him for running away from them. you could blame him for treating you like shit since he woke up from his short coma after the incident with Killer Croc. hell, he took the blame full on

you've never heard him so... bare. so raw. so vulnerable. when he apologized to you, thanked you for everything you ever fucking did, for always helping him, for sticking by him for that long, for enduring him and showing him how it feels to be loved, he was but a broken man. for the first time in... assumably ever, Jonathan didn't hide behind any walls and just... let the words flow. both of you knew that wasn't enough to compensate for what he did. nothing will ever be enough. he will never give you back everything that he took from you, and your heart will never fully heal. even if you two got back together, he wouldn't resign from his research either, and more likely than not, it was all going to end exactly the same, with him hiding away from you because apparently, acting like he didn't love you saved you from the heartbreak, and you having to mend your broken heart on your own, alone, knowing you will never get all your lost time back. you will never get back the time you spent crying in your home because you knew he wasn't coming. and yet, you - like the idiot you probably were - dived right back in. because you fucking loved him. and maybe it was stupid, and maybe his arms clinging onto you as you kissed him for the first time in months were stupid too, but if being stupid meant being happy, even for just one moment, you were going to take it

Jonathan still had a lot to make up for. you didn't think he will ever manage, honestly. but you were excited to see him try

#riddler #edward nigma #edward nygma #the riddler #jonathan crane #scarecrow #the scarecrow #arkhamverse #batman arkham knight #my writing #headcannons #drabble #angst #a sprinkle of fluff #kinda bittersweet #panshrekual iii

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eugenesmorphine · 3 years

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Hi! Can I request for some Ronald Speirs with a women from an enemy side,like a german nurse/prisoner smth like that😁

AN: I have returned. I know, from the hole of depression and school. I hope to be more active, so imagines will be coming out more. This one isn't my best since i'm trying to get back into the swing of things. But, regardless, I hope you enjoy.

First Sightings // A Ronald Speirs Imagine

Words: 2,365

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @ricksmorty @punkgeekcryptid !@hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @valterras @adamantiumdragonfly

It was early within the morning when Easy Company quietly invaded a small town overtaken by the German army. About three in the morning to be exact. Hiding beneath the cover of the darkened sky, the moonlight shining down dully between the trees and clouds.

The town had been converted into a small base, or headquarters for the Germans. Most of the homes were clearly not in use as the enemy had forced the remaining habitants out from their homes. Just a few homes were being used at barracks, and it seemed like the small town hall had been used as their aid station.

Four officers took a knee on a hill whilst using the brush as cover. Winters, Speirs, Nixon, and Compton all kneeled within a small line, close together, staring down their own scopes. Ronald Speirs pulled his scope down first and let out a scoff. Causing the three other Paratrooper officers to lower their scopes to turn towards the officer.

“Only a few guards posted out on a few balconies. For being such a “strong force”, they’re situational awareness seems to be at an all time low,” he whispered. Winters let out a quiet chuckle and turned back to the front. Bringing the scope back up to his eye. Peering over to what seemed to be their aid station. Small jeeps continued to pour in and out hourly to drop off wounded Nazi soldiers. Two nurses continued to rush in and out. Same two nurses each time. Blood covered the aprons and dresses they wore, along with their hands. It was clear even from a decent distance away.

“Looks like that aid station is quite busy. Just two nurses it seems though, got to be careful of them,” Winters stated quietly. To which Ronald just scoffed again.

“Why would they ever decide to side with them? To nurse those son’s of a bitches back to health just to come and kill our men?” Ronald asked. His eyes now steadying on the nurses in the distance. Nixon was the one to pipe up this time.

“A lot of them don’t make the choice themselves. Some of them don’t have a choice. Kind of like how we draft men. They’re people just like us. They don’t want to kill our men, the soldiers do. They merely just want to get home. Just like us,” he told him. Nixon was right. And Ronald knew that, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to, because he wasn’t that type of man. So instead, he didn’t.

“They all have a choice. Just like us,” Speirs responded. Keeping his opinion voiced. Gritting his teeth. Nixon went to sarcastically respond, but Winters clapped a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back slightly. The location officer turned to look at his higher up. And Winters just shook his head. Knowing that his dear friend Ronald Spiers wouldn’t give up his opinion. Making the “come along” motion and quietly walking away. Nixon just sighed and followed his tail closely.

Speirs sat alone for a bit longer. His dark eyes staring down at that aid station.Watching the two nurses now standing outside as they washed blood soaked linens and bed sheets in old horse troughs filled with water. “Yeah, we all have a choice,” he repeated below his breath. Knowing no one would hear him. A small grunt came from his chapped lips and he stood up quietly. Grabbing his Thompson and turning around to follow his fellow officers back to their foxholes. They were to be invading soon, he just needed to prepare a bit.

///

It didn’t take long to take over the small base. Maybe an hour, and only minor wounds and just one fatal casualty. Speirs and the other officers had been working with the rest of the Paratroopers to take care of the prisoners and organize them to take them to the holding base.

Ronald had been hanging back a bit, just watching over the small process of everything they were doing. It was going smoothly. Until one thing popped into his mind. His back straightened and his head went up. He looked up at all the groups of captured Nazis, and even around at the bodies. They weren’t there. Where were the nurses?

In a flash he turned and began to briskly walk towards that aid station. He didn’t see their pale blue dresses and white aprons anywhere. Even as he searched while he walked. His eyes fell back towards the building where medical supplies had been being hauled out crate by crate. But still no nurses. He grumbled slightly and picked up his pace. Pushing past some soldiers and walking through the large wooden doors. Pausing when he saw a bunch of bodies laying down with sheets over their heads. Clearly the men the nurses were trying to save. He huffed and looked up. Seeing a group of men with their guns pointed at one of the nurses. The other one is still yet to be seen. The nurse with the soldiers around her all peered down at her. Her hands behind her head in surrender.

“Please, please let me see if I can help her,” she pleaded through a strong German accent. Ronald pursued closer. Wondering what she was bantering about. But as he walked closer, the officer was quick to understand. The other nurse, a pretty blonde woman, had been laying on her side. A pool of blood coming from her stomach. Ronald’s eyes widened. As much as he hated the Nazis, and what he had stated to the fellow officers, this was a war crime. And the sound of the other H/C nurse crying didn’t make him feel any better.

“Was this any of your bullets?” he asked sternly. Snapping his head towards the group of paratroopers, and weeping woman who still knelt on the wooden floor of the church. The woman was dead already, her body already beginning to turn ghost white, while the blood had stopped flooding from the wood. And her breath could not be heard. The downed nurse’s chest did not rise, nor fall.

The young paratroopers jumped at the menacing officer. Swallowing fast as they all shook their heads. One decided to finally speak up. “The woman was on the ground before we came in here, sir. We heard a gunshot and some German and rushed in here. The little lady was on the floor bleeding out, and a Kraut standing with a gun to this one’s head. He is over there,” he spoke, pointing to the dead German who was slumped against a wall. His head bent over, as he too was dead.

“They are speaking the truth, it was the German soldier that had shot her. I was next, they thought that we were the ones that had been giving information to you Americans when you first stormed here,” she paused as she tried to look away from her dead friend. Tears continued to pour down her face. “Please, I am not a threat. I had no choice but to be a nurse. I want nothing from this war. They would have killed me if I didn’t. Please, I do not want to die,” her English was broken. But so was her voice. Ronald stood there for a moment, wondering what he should do. She seemed sincere. And genuinely scared.

“I’ll bring her to Roe, he could probably use the help,” was all Speirs said. Leaving the men a little shocked. The woman slowly stood and wiped her eyes. Briskly walked past the corpses of her fellow nurse, and the rest of the bodies that were within the church. Following the paratrooper officer closely. Her flats hit the mud that was outside of the church, splashing up her legs and all over her shoes. She chose to ignore it for then, keeping silent as she walked behind the cold faced officer.

They walked in silence for quite a bit. The young nurse felt as if she was in fact a prisoner. The stares of the other Americans, her eyes stayed focused in front of her. Staring at Speir’s back.

Speirs had gotten sick of the silence. He was one for it, but sometimes it was boring. And with this woman, he felt compelled to speak to her for some odd reason. Just an itch that he wanted to at least learn her name. “What is your name, little lady?” he asked bluntly. To which the nurse perked her head up nervously yet quickly.

“My name is Y/N L/N. May I ask you yours, Army Man?” She responded. Ronald nodded to himself. Taking in her words and taking a deep breath. Rounding a corner of one of the run down buildings, continuing to head towards the aid station where the other medics had been stationed.

“My name is Ronald Speirs, Captain Speirs is what you can call me,” he responded. Y/N sat there and practiced the name under her breath. Repeating it quietly until she had gotten it right.

“You have a nice name, Captain Speirs,” she complimented. Making Ronald’s ends of his lips quirk upwards with a smile. He didn’t even realize he did it. “I wanted to thank you, and your men. For not killing me. You must know that it wasn’t our-” she paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “It wasn’t my choice to be this way and help the Nazi party. Many people were trapped under the work of the Nazis. Many men and women did sign up for the role for the fatherland, but many were forced, sir,” she tried to explain. Y/N was merely afraid of the worst. To be sent away and jailed, or killed. “All I wanted was my family to be safe,” she finished.

Ronald stayed silent for a moment. He remembered what he said to Winters, Welsh, and Nixon. He knew the truth, and he was just an angry type of man. But with how this young woman said certain things, how scared she sounded, how she wept and begged when they first entered that church. It made his eyes open just a little bit.

“Are you hungry?” he asked bluntly. Y/N just lifted her head a little confused at the question. She had been thinking that she was a prisoner of sorts. She didn’t exactly know how she would be treated, but definitely not like this. To be asked if she was hungry, unlike when she worked for the Germans. They pretty much told her when she was to eat, sleep, drink, use the bathroom. It was odd hearing the question after a while of just being given so many orders she was forced to do.

The young nurse didn’t understand the truth of the Americans. She wished for liberation. Prayed for it even. She was still scared she would be arrested or killed. Much like what the Russians did to the German forces. But with the company of the rather quiet, intimidating officer gave her a bit of comfort. Especially from the looks of all the men that the two walked by. The hatred filled the eyes of some, who just screamed out to blame her for helping the Germans. Y/N merely tried to ignore it, just swallowing hard and looking forward. Continuing to step through the mud.

///

When Ronald had brought Y/N to Eugene , Eugene stared up at her with surprise. “Doc, this is Y/N, she is a nurse. She is going to help you out with the wounded for now. I’m going up to HQ to figure out if we are sending her with the other prisoners or not,” he reported. Eugene just gave a respectful nod towards the officer. Y/N took a few steps towards the medic.

“I wish to help. My English isn’t the best, but I am good with my hands. I promise,” she said softly. It seemed her voice was almost permanently soft due to the harsh cold that attacked all of the soldiers. No matter what side.

Eugene just nodded and outstretched his arm to jester to the few wounded men that sat around. Y/N didn’t hesitate, she went. Kneeling in the mud and aiding a soldier that had a large shrapnel wound across the thigh and down the leg. Muttering soft prayers within her language as she began to suppress and wrap the wound.

The Officer had found himself staring. His mind was a mess. He was a close minded, but very smart man at times. Very wise for his young age. He wanted to understand. But he knew everyone had a choice. Though, he wasn’t as angry, just wanting to understand why it made her want to protect her family in a way to help the people she hated. It was a question for another time. Ronald glanced at Roe and back to the female. “If you have any problems, let me know. But other than that, keep an eye on her,” The officer spoke to the medic. Roe gave a stiff nod and looked back at his patient. A man with a bullet wound in the shoulder. And Spiers turned around and began to walk off.

As he walked, he quickly began to feel frustration bubble within himself. The image of fear etched across Y/N’s face when he had first seen her within the church, had remained burned within his mind. This was the first time he felt genuine remorse. He couldn’t tell if it was from how pretty he had found her, or the sincerity in her begging for her life. Or was it both. He hated it. He didn’t like feeling soft. Only hard and just his normal intimidating stature of an officer in charge. He wanted to brush it off, but the remorse filled his stomach with an odd feeling. He thought he was sick at first. But instead, it was butterflies. He hated it. He didn’t know why he was feeling it. But he was.

A story of love at first sight. And he didn’t know it. And neither did she.

#ronald speirs imagine #ronald speirs x reader #ron speirs #ronald speirs #bob imagine #band of brothers headcanon #incorrect band of brothers quotes #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #hbo headcanons #hbo imagines #hbo headcanon #hbo war imagine #hbo war headcanon

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louiseleblancdiggory · 3 years

Text

Speedy one night stand part 2

Part 1 here

“Ok, so do we go over our story again?”

“We did that a thousand times. Relax, they’re not the brightest.”

Aelin smiled, resting her back against the hospital chair. Even though only one day had passed, Rowan was already feeling infinitely better. His wrist still hurt like a bitch, and it would probably remain like that due to the surgery, but the rest was just some small ache.

Differently from the previous day, this morning Rowan had woken up to an empty room. Aelin had decided to go home around eleven, promising to be back in time for them to go over their plan one more time, but a part of Rowan wondered if she was actually going to be back. It wasn’t a usual situation, and now that she knew he was not dying, maybe she wouldn’t feel any responsibility over him at all.

It had worried Rowan more than he liked to admit.

And yet, she had returned today. Just a few hours after Rowan woke up, Aelin walked into his hospital room. She was her bubbly self, walking through the door while oozing so much excitement and brightness that it was like the sun lodged itself in the room. She plopped down on her usual chair, barely bothering to create small talk before jumping right back to what they had discussed the previous night. Aelin wanted everything to go perfect— had said that she had grown up with a cousin who made her quite competitive when it came to pranks.

Forty five minutes later, they had gone over the details twice, flirted shamelessly every now and then, and Rowan had the pleasure of seeing Aelin play the distressed wife in front of three different doctors.

The woman was a devil.

Rowan couldn’t help but smile.

“When do they get here?”

“You’re so impatient.” Rowan grinned, slowly turning his non-shattered wrist. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re impatient?”

“You and my cousin would be such great friends.” Aelin gave him a sweet smile.

“Sounds like a nice guy, then.”

“He isn’t.” Aelin’s sweet— and oh so fake— smile widened. “A fucking asshole, if you ask me.”

Rowan snorted, looking at the door just in time to see five guys turning around the corner and walking in the direction of the room. A diabolical smile grew on Rowan’s lips, and he turned to Aelin who had a raised brow. “Show time.”

Just like the devil Rowan thought she was, Aelin returned his smile.

———————

Honestly, she shouldn’t be this excited.

Tricking a bunch of men she had never seen in her life should not be that high in her list of priorities. And yet.

Part of her wanted to stay at the hospital yesterday, make sure that Rowan was ok during the night. Even though they had just met, Aelin felt a weird connection to him. Not love— because love at first sight is bullshit—, but she definitely cared for him as a friend. But the doctor insisted that there were no chances that Rowan’s condition would get that bad over night, and so Aelin went home.

She could barely sleep, and in the morning she rushed to get to the hospital.

Because of the prank, of course. Not because of Rowan.

And now that his friends were actually there, that the plan was actually in action, Aelin was having some small doubts.

What if they tell the hospital she’s lying? What if that doctor loses her job? What if—

“Rowan!” A blonde haired man ran through the door, followed by four others. Just like Rowan, all of the men were massive. Tall, muscular, and almost sucking all the air in the room with their presence.

They were all so focused on Rowan that none of them even paid attention to her sitting by a corner in the room, and Aelin used that time to transform the smirk on her lips into a loving smile.

“Fucking shit, Whitethorn.” The tallest of them— the only one as tall as Rowan— said. His pitch black hair was tied back in a bun, but some of it fell out of it when he ran a hand through his head. Aelin tried to remember Rowan’s descriptions of his friends, and if she was right, that was Lorcan. “One day alone and you get hit by a fucking truck.”

“Any cool scars?” One of the golden twins asked, a grin on his face. Either Fenrys or Connall, but judging by the personality and Rowan’s description of the twins, Aelin was betting on the former.

“Shut up.” The one with a buzzcut— Vaughan, she recalled— said, hitting the back of the golden twin’s head. “We tried to come as soon as possible when we heard. We didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“Oh.” Rowan said with all the innocence in the world, a smile as sweet as hers gracing his lips. “Of course I wasn’t alone, are you guys insane or something?”

“Huh?” The twins said in unison, looking at each other.

“I came with my wife.” Rowan said, the sentence sounding like a question. He let out a laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth. “Do you guys think she would just leave me alone?”

“Your fucking what.” Lorcan said very slowly after a few moments of complete silence.

Rowan looked so genuinely confused that even Aelin believed him for a second.

“Guys? Ace?” Rowan said, brows furrowing. His eyes then landed on her, and he gave her a smile that was supposed to be loving, but Aelin just thought he looked like a fiend. “Apparently they think you’re cold enough to enjoy your vacations while your husband is at the hospital.”

“I might not be the warmest, but that would have been low even for me.” Aelin said, voice charred with playful sarcasm. As if she was a magnet, all five heads immediately whipped at her direction, faces showing different levels of incredulity. “Hey, guys.”

Aelin had to bite her cheeks to keep herself from laughing. She didn’t know any human being could be that shocked and stand that still. The silence in the room was suffocating, except for Rowan who was smiling broadly now that no one was looking at him.

“Everyone is seeing the hot blonde, right?” The twin— Fenrys, she’d been right. It was just the type of comment he’d do— asked very carefully.

“I’m flattered, Fen.” Aelin said, taking some pleasure in how his jaw dropped when she said his name. She looked at each of their faces, forcing her expression to show both excitement and some confusion. “Guys? Not even a hug? I mean I know you guys are Rowan’s friends but I would expect some better welcome.”

At that, Aelin got up and walked in their direction. She hugged Vaughan and Fenrys at the same time, both as still as two pieces of stone.

She took a step back, doing the same to Gavriel and Connall. Aelin then looked at Lorcan, winking at him. “I know better than to hug you. Good to know that the change in continents doesn’t change the scowl on your face.”

They all just stared at her.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Rowan was near busting out laughing. She walked to his side, feeling the eyes of his friends following her across the room. She bent down near Rowan, kissing him on the lips before stroking his cheek with a thumb. For a split second, they shared a knowing smile, one that would look very loving to whoever was watching, but both of them knew better.

“I’m gonna go check with your doctor what time we can leave, alright? I’m gonna let you guys catch up.” Aelin said, kissing him again.

Rowan nodded, but then his eyes turned to his friends and narrowed slightly. “Sounds good, honey.”

Vaughan soundly choked.

Aelin made her best impression of being embarrassed— not by the nickname, but by the reactions of his friends.

She left the room with a final smile at the five guys, and when her face was not visible to them anymore, she finally opened the biggest grin she had ever given in her entire life.

As she walked down the hallway looking for the doctor, Rowan almost jumped out of bed just to kiss her again if only for the absolute horror in his friends’ faces. He never thought he’d seen any of them that shaken— even Lorcan was shocked.

Using the fact that all five of them were still looking at Aelin’s body disappearing among doctors, nurses, and other visitors, Rowan controlled his facial expressions and turned them to a disappointed scowl.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked when Aelin completely disappeared. “Would it kill for you guys to be nice to her? It was never an issue, what the fuck happened?”

“Bro.” Connall was the first to tear his eyes away from the door.

“Rowan, I don’t know how to say this gently…” Gavriel started, voice calm and cautious as always.

“You must have hit your head really hard because you’re not fucking married.” Lorcan, on the other hand, had no problem just saying what came to his mind.

“What?” Rowan asked, dumbfounded.

“Man, some hot crazy chick is pretending to be your wife.” Fenrys was smiling, but his whole expression screamed terrified. “Holy fuck, some hot crazy chick is pretending to be Rowan’s wife.”

“Haha, very funny.” Rowan said, relaxing. “Is this why you treated Ace like that? A prank?”

“Her name is Ace.” Vaughan said, the only one still visibly shocked.

“Crazy girl name.” Fenrys added solemnly. Connall nodded profusely.

“Her name is Aelin, and you guys know that. We have been together for over a year not, married for a few months.” Rowan was trying so, so hard not to laugh.

The guys looked at each other, different degrees of worry washing they expressions.

“Rowan, you really have to understand that—“

“Understand what?” Aelin interrupted what Gavriel was saying, causing all of the guys to jump and scream.

At that, Rowan couldn’t contain his laughter. He was laughing so hysterically that not even Aelin managed to keep a straight face and started chuckling too.

“What the fuck was that?” Rowan said between laughs, smiling up at Aelin as she approached his bed even though he was speaking to his friend.

“When is his birthday?” Fenrys ignored Rowan’s question, eyes narrowing at Aelin as she rested against Rowan.

“January twentieth-first.” Aelin said, brows furrowing in confusion. “What the hell is this?”

“Favorite color.” Connall dismissed her question.

“Green.”

“His pet’s name.” Gavriel asked much more politely than the others, but suspicion was palpable in his words.

“We don’t have a pet.”

“What is he studying?” Vaughan finally looked more wary than fucking shocked.

“He’s studying to become an engineer. STEM, then? I don’t know, I’m an arts and humanities major. I don’t understand that shit.”

The guys looked at each other again before Lorcan’s eyes dropped on Aelin. “Mom’s name. Ex girlfriend’s name. Favorite movie. Favorite song. Dick size.”

Rowan choked when he heard the last sentence, but Aelin simply smiled. “Anya. Are you talking about Lyria or Remelle? The Godfather and Patience by the Guns n’ Roses. I will not be discussing my husband’s dick size with his best friend.”

“Holy fuck.” Vaughan breathed.

“Give me your phone.” Lorcan said, even more suspicious now.

Aelin raised a brow, but took the phone out of her pocket. She stole a glance at Rowan, but he was just as confused as her.

“Call the first person in your favorites.”

Oh, fuck.

It had been fun while it lasted, and Rowan was about to get his ass beaten by his friends even though he was still in a hospital bed.

But Aelin simply unlocked her phone for everyone to see, went to her contacts and called the second person in her favorites. She raised her eyes from the phone to smile sweetly at Lorcan. “Rowan is the first.”

Lorcan’s jaw clenched minimally, as if Aelin had just passed a test she was supposed to fail. Now, just like the rest of his friends, Lorcan looked expectantly ate the phone on top of Rowan’s legs. Aelin had put it on speaker, and the only sound in the room was their breathing and the dialing sound.

“Hey, babe.” A female voice answered, soft and warm. “What can I help you with?”

“I don’t know, actually.” Aelin raised her face to Lorcan, and she looked so beautiful that the smile that grew on Rowan’s face was genuine. “Why did I call her?”

“Is she married?” Lorcan asked loudly so the girl on the phone would hear.

“What did he say?” She asked anyways.

“Lorcan asked if I am married.” Aelin raised the phone to her lips so her friend could hear her better.

“Uhm, yeah?” Her friend laughed. “Aren’t you married to his best friend for a few months now? What type of question is this?”

Aelin smiled smugly at his friends, and Rowan made his best impression of pissed off husband. In reality, all he wanted was to be alone with Aelin and kiss her for her geniality.

She wasn’t kidding when she said she was competitive when it came to pranks.

“Hey, what’s up, Lys. Is that Ace?” A man sounded through the phone.

“Yeah.” Lys answered.

“Is Rowan ok?” The man asked casually, and even Rowan was surprised by that.

Turns out Aelin had been a few steps ahead of him.

“I’m fine.” Rowan answered, trying to sound casual. “But apparently my friends decided to be assholes even though I’m already suffering.”

Aelin snorted, resting her back against his chest.

“What are they doing?” The guy asked and Rowan could hear the smile on his voice. Even though the voice tone was completely different, the man sounded so much like Aelin that it could only be her cousin since she didn’t have siblings.

“Pretending they don’t know Ace.”

“I would also pretend I don’t know my cousin if I could. Disgraceful woman.” He grumbled. “She must be loving the attention, though.”

“Fuck off.” Aelin snapped at the same time Rowan laughed. She turned her head to him, eyes narrowing with enough emotion that Rowan knew she was being genuine. He just smiled, giving her a quick kiss before turning to the phone again.

“Me and Lys gotta go, but we’ll see you this weekend for dinner, right?”

“Yep.” Rowan knew nothing of it, but now he was knee deep into his lie so backing out wasn’t an option anymore.

“Oh, and Ace, Lysandra says the airline just sent your ticket back to Terrasen to the apartment.” Aedion announced before hanging up, leaving the comment hanging in the air.

Aelin heard sharp intakes of breath, and raised her head to see all men staring at her dumbfounded.

“What?” She asked innocently, resting once again against Rowan. His hand sneaked up to the back of her head, massaging her scalp. Even though she tried to play it cool, her heart was hammering inside her chest— both because of how big the lie had just become and because of Rowan’s touch against her skin. Her whole back was against his side, and Aelin hoped he thought the racing heart was due to the lie, not due to him.

“Very well, Ace.” Lorcan said after a moment of prolonged silence. “We are so sorry for the prank. Why don’t we all go out to dinner to pay you back.”

Aelin was gonna vomit her heart. All the guys looked at Lorcan, and even Rowan’s hand stilled against her hair.

And yet she just forced a smile on her face, nodding her head. “Sounds amazing.”

Rowan’s hand in the back of her head massaged now her neck, reassuring her everything was ok.

But that definitely wasn’t the sentiment on his friends’ faces.

Oh, fuck.

A/N: I’m sorry for such a small update for this story, but I’m trying to write some Valentine’s day oneshots but I wanted to continue this one a little! I’ll probably to a final part three for it sometime!

Tags:

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato @jlinez @courtofjurdan @firestartsandseneschals @ladywitchling @lexflame @sleeping-and-books @annejulianneh111 @perseusannabeth @linshryver @mu-si-ca-l @camilamartinezdunne @dank-queen7 @minaidss @starborn-faerie-queen @booksofthemoon @loveofbooksandwine @jesstargaryenqueen @bluejaberry @multifandommessblog @yesdreamblog @superspiritfestival @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woollycat22 @julemmaes @claralady @abookishfreak @faerie-queen-fireheart @morganofthewildfire @queen-of-glass @heirofthenightcourt @booksbqueen @heirofthrnightcourt004 @fromthelibraryofemilyj @rowaelinismyotp @fromthelibraryofemilyj

* tags in bold don’t allow me to tag

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forwantofamohawk · 3 years

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Breaking up Duncney and Gwent wasn’t and isn’t a bad thing. Turning Courtney and Trent into unlikable, derailed, bastardized shells of their former selves to make the breakup happen is a bad thing. The difference is subtle, but important, and I think it’s worth remembering.

I won’t deny that Gwen and Trent, or Duncan and Courtney in Island are cute, and that for many of us it was one of our first TV romances we latched onto. The chemistry between the characters was simple, but genuine and heartfelt, coming mostly from the dialog and atmosphere established in the show. I can see why a lot of people like these pairings and were upset when they broke up.

But the truth is that these pairings weren’t destined to last forever, and that’s okay. They’re summer romances at their core, puppy love where the chemistry comes from surface level affection, not deeper understanding of each other as human beings and the emotional complexity that belies that. While I’m not saying these relationships could never work out in the end, it’s just incredibly unlikely. How many first time teen romances ever make it that far? How many actually last more than a few weeks or months? People at that young age get into relationships without knowing what they really want or what makes them happy, and the reality of being in a relationship is often different than their preconceived expectations.

Breakups happen. Sometimes they’re messy, sometimes two people just agree the other isn’t what they want and it’s fairly amicable. And everything on the spectrum in between. But they happen and it shouldn’t be treated as inherently a bad thing to happen in the writing. When two new seasons of Total Drama were announced I saw a lot of posts on many different media platforms about how Duncney and Gwent should get back together in the new seasons. As if them breaking up at all was a sin that needed to be atoned for. Disregarding that the new seasons are slated to have entirely new casts, and any pairings from the original three generations being seen at all is likely wishful thinking, I think this sort of attitude is fundamentally flawed, rooted in nostalgia and not any sense of what is good writing and character progression.

Now I know I have to address the issue of the breakups as they actually happened. As I said they were very poorly handled, with one half of the relationship ostracized or villainized to make it happen. But that isn’t necessary. Breakups don’t have to happen because the other person is an awful human being. Sometimes, like I said earlier, two people in a relationship decide this is not what they want, that it isn’t emotionally fulfilling to them or that it isn’t worth the sacrifices they have to make to stay in it. I’m not saying that the characters even have to realize this, that takes a sort of emotional maturity that’s exceedingly rare for teenagers, and even for adults in many cases.

But it’s the writer’s responsibility to frame the breakup in such a way that we the audience can understand the imbalances, the incompatibility of desires, the emotional breaks that cause it to stop functioning. This is where Fresh TV and the Total Drama writers truly fall short. Even if the characters don’t realize why things aren’t working between them, the writers should. And in Total Drama’s case, the writers clearly didn’t. Every breakup or love triangle in Total Drama that I can think of off the top of my head doesn’t come from misunderstandings, or disagreements, or simple lack of chemistry. It comes from one character suddenly acting like a jerk and the other character deciding the other person is awful and they need to break up with them. It would be fine if the person was toxic before the relationship and it only became clear to their partner how deep their toxicity runs after they get together, but to have it come out of completely nowhere just to facilitate a breakup is arbitrary and poor character writing. Almost everyone in the Love Triangle ends as a worse character because of it from a writing and moral standpoint. Rather than drama coming naturally out of conflicts of interest or clashes of personality, personality itself is bent and broken to the whims of drama. But bringing back Duncney or Gwent wouldn’t fix that, it wouldn’t right any wrongs, and in a way I think it would be insulting to the characters after all the heartbreak they went through just to end up back in the same old relationships they started this mess in. Their survival belongs in AUs and fanfics where the relationships were able to work out their differences, survive the trials and tribulations of a new romance and forge a long lasting, meaningful bond that can stand the rest of time. Not in new seasons, solely brought in to pander to fan cries for the return of a lost, idyllic season 1 nostalgic paradise.

As a closing note, I also think that most of the original pairs from island breaking up lends a sort of value to the ones that survived. Lyler and Gidgette, no matter what you think of them, persisted, almost implausibly so, against the odds. That they passed tests other couples could not, I see as the ultimate validation of the love and chemistry there. A relationship is defined in hardship, whether it can withstand the bending and twisting of fights, of stress, of those moments of weakness and doubt that may cause one or both parties to go astray. Yes, Bridgette cheated, and people on here give her a lot of shit for it, but she was a young, hormonal teenager in her first committed relationship and she lapsed. That’s not evil, that’s not problematic, that’s her being a fallible human being like the rest of us. She realized what she did was wrong, realized that her impulses led her astray, and apologized for it profusely. And for it, I think the relationship came out stronger than ever. It’s honestly shocking that something like this came out of Fresh TV at all.

Anyways this post has gone on far longer than it ever intended to but there is a lot to unpack in both how Total Drama handles it’s relationships, and how the fandom reacts to it. Maybe by shining a light on it we can understand it better, and do justice to these characters and their relationships going forward.

#total drama #tdi #td #total drama island #duncney #gwent #lyler #gidgette

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sserpente · 4 years

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A/N: October fluff! Request from @jokersqueenofchaos. Enjoy! 🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂

Words: 1372 Warnings: pure fluff

Loki sighed, for the third time in a row now. You had learned the hard way that if there was something weighing heavy on his heart but he was yet unwilling to speak plainly about it, he would react hissing like a cat trying to protect her kittens.

His sighs suited the crisp autumn air, every step you both took causing the dry leafs to your feet to crunch as you ruffled through them with your boots.

The last time Loki was on a peaceful stroll had been before he had known he was a Frost Giant. He had told you he would go picking flowers and plants with Frigga for potions and healing creams—and you were surprised by how well he knew the vegetation on this planet. If anything, he knew the trees and plants better than you did. It was almost a little embarrassing but then again, despite of what you had heard about the incidents in New York, he had never treated you in a condescending way.

“Loki, what’s wrong? You keep sighing like your life depends on it.”

He smiled faintly. “Perhaps it does.” He sounded sad too, melancholic almost.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Would it help?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes you feel better if you confide in someone.”

He chuckled. “And I suppose you should be the person I confide in?” It was strange, having these normal conversations with him, both for him and you. But you would not deny how nice it felt to be chatting to him like that—without any suspicion, fear or mistrust. Besides, so you figured, Loki needed more reasons to laugh.

“Yes. And if you don’t, I will throw…” You looked around, spotting the leave pile a garden caretaker must have raked not so long ago. “…those leafs at you!” You concluded, raising an eyebrow in a both threatening and playful manner.

Loki raised both of his in response. “Will you now?”

“Would you like to find out?”

His laugh was short-lived. “Look…” He began suddenly then. Your heart skipped a beat. “It has been almost ten months since the destruction of Asgard. I wonder… what is my purpose here?” His tone was bitter, making you frown.

“Purpose? What do you mean?”

“Thor took me here presuming the humans would just accept me. After everything that happened I was naïve enough to believe that would be the case.” Swallowing thickly, you looked up at him, compassion spreading in your veins. “In the end, I did exactly what I swore to myself I would never do again—run after my brother and his affection like a lapdog.

“And for what? They all despise me on this planet. I do not blame them. Nor do I particularly care. I do not, however, see why I would while away my life in a place I am not welcome in.”

“I like you.” You suggested, a sheepish smile playing on your lips. Heavens, you had known how unwelcome Loki felt here on Earth. No matter where you went, the looks he received were almost unbearable, not to mention the way the Avengers, especially Tony, treated him. But this? In fact, there was an elderly lady walking her dog a few feet from you right now too, seemingly disturbed at the sight of Loki enjoying the light autumn breeze in the park despite the more or less casual clothes he was wearing.

Removing your hands from your warm pockets, you stepped in front of him, hindering him from walking on. And much to your surprise, Loki reciprocated your smile.

“Yes. You do. Yet I am unable to tell whether you genuinely like me or merely pity me.” He paused. He sounded so insecure it almost broke your heart. You did pity him, in a way. But that was not why you spent time with him—quite on the contrary. You admired him for his strength and cockiness. The thing about Loki was that he never showed his fear, always hid his weaknesses. He was incredibly smug about you wanting to be around him and preferring his company over Thor’s in front of the Avengers but whenever the two of you were alone together… whether he wished to or not, you knew he did not understand why you would be with him voluntarily.

“I found myself considering leaving.” He said.

Your face fell. “Leaving? Leaving where? A-another country?”

“Another planet, actually. Jötunheim, perhaps. I am the rightful king of this realm. I could make true what I had promised after all—that I would restore Jötunheim to its former glory.” His blue gaze started to drift away, making your heart beat even faster.

“But… W-what about me?”

Loki frowned, seemingly confused as his eyes locked with yours again. “What about you?”

“Can I come?”

“Jötunheim is hardly a safe place for a mortal like you, my dear.” Once more, he paused and then added, “Why would you want to join me in the first place?”

“No one should have to be alone, Loki. And you’re gonna have to accept that you’re stuck with me. If you’re going, I’m coming.”

He hesitated. “You are not. It’s too dangerous. I will have no time to babysit a mortal.”

“Hey!”

“Jötuns are savage, my dear. Their laws do not care for personal space or basic human rights.”

“Well, if you are going to be king, you can just change those laws.” He chuckled in response—it was a sound which made pleasant shivers run up and down your spine.

“Promise me you will at least think about it. In the meantime, I’ll tell no soul you are thinking about leaving.”

Loki sighed—for the fourth time now. “Very well. I promise.”

“Good.” It was then you bent down, gathering a few dry leafs in your hands. They crunched a little as you picked them up and then threw them at his face. Loki blinked.

“What was that for? I did tell you, did I not?” You could tell he was trying hard to appear irked by your vicious attack—instead, he cracked a cheeky smirk.

“And you believed me?!” You cried out, feigning shock in your voice. “Come on, Trickster. It’s October. Time for some Halloween mischief.”

Loki looked up at you—and it was in this very moment that you realised just why he had been such an intimidating villain back in New York.

“Run.” He growled darkly, making your heart beat faster. You giggled, then spun around on your heels and legged it, laughing out loud in the process. Before you could even make it more than ten feet away from him, leafs began to rain down on you—and there were so many of them you were, unceremoniously, swarmed by them to the point you lost your orientation. Screaming and laughing all at the very same time. It was more than just obvious that he was using magic for his sweet revenge but before you could once more spin around and complain, Loki, appearing out of nowhere, wrapped his arms around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and throwing you straight into the pile of leafs.

You landed softly, with his strong body still tightly against yours. When his warm breath brushed against the back of your neck, you shivered. The sound of his blithe laugh warmed your heart.

“Hey… let’s head home, make a fire and roast some sweet potatoes and marshmallows. Actually, we could also pick up some sweet chestnuts from the store on our way back.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, making you realise just how close his face was to yours right now. For a brief moment, you simply admired his features—the high cheekbones, the sharp jawline, the long dark eyelashes, the thin lips, the mesmerising blue eyes with mischief sparkling in them—Loki was not only handsome. He was downright beautiful.

“If I get to light the fire…” He eventually responded, his smile devilish.

The old lady who must have been watching you alarmed ever since you had let out that scream almost fainted when you leaned forward and gently kissed the God of Mischief on the cheek, watching his face light up like a Christmas tree.

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! Caffeine is essential as a writer, I guess. And red wine. A lot of red wine. ko-fi.com/sserpente

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chusui00 · 3 years

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Not Meant To Be

Word Count: 3,750

Summary: Anthony became the center of your attention, and it seemed as though his feelings were mutual for you. But in light of recent events, he’d only be able to comfort you in more ways than one. With the help of a loyal friend, you have no doubts that Simon will regret leaving you.

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x reader, Simon Basset x reader

Part 3/6

a/n: Sorry for the incredibly long wait! I knew that editing takes time, but I didn’t think that I would have writer’s block for, well, however long I’ve had it. So much has happened, and I lost motivation after motivation. Although, it’s not entirely fair for those of you who want to read Bridgerton fanfic. Without further delays, here’s part 3!!

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

One might think that when he stood outside my home with roses, Viscount Bridgerton had finally set himself on the route to having a family of his own. The Viscount was welcomed by Charles and invited inside, which caused Mama to almost fall over her feet. “Lord Bridgerton! Heavens! What a pleasant surprise this beautiful afternoon to see you!”

It took a lot of willpower not to roll my eyes at mama's change of mood from just minutes earlier. Lady Bridgerton wrote to me her apologies, that were not even pertinent at all, and mama blamed me of humiliating the Bridgertons yesterday. Papa didn't make his typical remarks, but I knew what he had been pondering regarding my misdeeds.

Other than that, Lord Bridgerton told them his hellos, and when he saw me in the family room, his smiling face grew greater. “Miss Denbow, good afternoon. As it always is, you never cease to look so exquisite.” If I wasn't mistaken, I assumed he was intending to flirt with me, and undoubtedly fooled mama with whatever act he was putting on.

“Lord Bridgerton, how kind of you to give my daughter compliments after seeing what she did yesterday at the picnic. In this town, you and your family are truly the most genuine.” Mama was eager to speak in my place, and when she tried to bring up the incident for the second or third time, I swallowed thickly.

Anthony’s mouth twitched at the corners, and he stepped over to me in order to gift his bouquet of roses. “Lady Denbow, I do not blame Miss Denbow for anything. She was suffering and knew no other way to communicate.” Before he slipped back, his fingers lightly stroked both of my hands, then he sat in an empty chair.

Cheeky bastard. He was making light of my missteps, which Mama considered especially inexcusable. And for his compassion, I could not have been more forever thankful. “Oh, Lord Bridgerton, thank you. To hear you say that alleviates my anxiety. And thank you for these roses.” I ran over the smooth petals with my thumb, then bent closer to take in the fragrance of them.

But once again, with more berating remarks on my ‘unladylike’ and ‘outrageous’ nature, Mama ruined the temporary pleasant environment. “I can't understand why, my lord, you want to court her. She may be my only child, but I'm sure she would be a far better choice for another lord of her equals.” My own mother had a toxic tongue which might ostracize her if she didn't take caution of others.

In order to defend against the offensive expressions she was thinking about me, as if I weren't really there, I opened my mouth, but Anthony decided to stand up from his seat and settled next to me. “I'm going to say this as politely as I can, Lady Denbow. What Miss Denbow did at the picnic was not wrong, and she's a wonderfully capable young lady. You are her mother, and I must admit that what you have said makes me very mortified.”

With discomposure, Mama's face grew red and, at last, she remained at a loss for words. “Lord Bridgerton, my apologies. Forgive your mama, y/n. My intention was not to negatively impact you such a way. I'm worried you can't even defend yourself.” Excuse after excuse were all I heard coming from her, but I needed to leave this conversation in the past.

“Mama, I'm forgiving you. But please don't think of me like that. When you do not see that I am well aware of what I'm doing and what I believe is important, I am in despair. I'm no longer a little girl.” Mama nodded, but in sensitivity, she refused to speak as she left Anthony and I in the room alone. "Well, either that may well have gotten out of hand, or the way I hoped it would.”

A chuckle escapes from the Viscount, and I recline against the back of the sofa with a tired sigh. I loved my mama and papa, but sometimes they treated me like I would never age from my childhood years. Despite having no brothers or sisters, I had friends who supported me and shared the same interests as I grew older.

Having Lord Bridgerton here was an enigma that I couldn’t fathom, but I appreciated how he stood up for me when mama complained without cease. Now that she was gone, I took the opportunity to ask him as to why he came to my home. “Anthony, can you tell me the reason for your visit? We both know that you don’t have intentions to court me contrary to what outsiders might believe.” I crossed my arms and waited for a reply, which was his hand resting on the top of my thigh. Perplexed, I looked over at him to see his eyes full of sympathy.

“Y/n, what Hastings said could have been less severe than they actually were, and Daphne chastised him for doing so.” Anthony began, his grip squeezing in reassurance, and he gently pulled it away once I’ve had enough time to comprehend what he told me. It warmed my heart to hear that Daphne was upset in my stead, although I’m sure anyone in their right mind would have done the same for me.

My thoughts wandered to how both the eldest child and the Duke of Hastings were famous rakes with great influence. One had brothers who would take his title and estate if he were to pass, whereas the other had no known relatives and only Lady Danbury to defend his name after his death. I found it funny that I’ve fallen in love with the latter, and he was treating me like I didn’t have a place in his place.

I must’ve been worrying Anthony with my lack of response because he waved a hand in front of my face to bring me back into reality. I shook my head of the unrelated topic and smiled sheepishly at him. “I’m sorry. I became lost before I realized that I’d drifted off.” “Oh, it’s quite alright. Trust me, I do the exact same thing when I’m alone.”

“I’ll be impartial with you, Anthony. I hadn’t given it consideration that your sister would do such a thing, and for me, no less. Perhaps I’ve had the wrong impression of her from the beginning. Everything is going terribly, and I haven’t been able to think properly.” I wore my heart on my sleeve for him to see, and I didn’t care about exposing my weaknesses to him. But Anthony seemed be torn between hugging me and giving a simple pat on my shoulder lest an unwanted third party were to walk in.

If anyone noticed the unusual display of affection, then news would spread that rather than waiting to fulfill the courtship rituals, I was advancing on a lord. He wouldn't be much of a gentleman, in Anthony's opinion, if he were to neglect a woman in distress. “When you weep, I don't like it. It so pains me when I'm labelled useless, but when you're laughing, you look the most spectacular, y/n. Simon's blind and ludicrous, but I know you really love him, don't you?”

“You're right, my lord. Again. I need to let go of my struggles and to live my life to its fullest. The Duke encouraged what I would like to go do, become, and pursue, but under false premises, he is intimately involved to your younger sister.” I forced my body to stand, and in confusion, but without doubt, Anthony quickly followed. In my own house, it felt too stifling, so I concluded that a stroll outside would hopefully help take my mind off what occupied it at the moment.

“Is there anything other than whining and moaning that I could do instead? Wait, Queen Charlotte is holding a ball for her nephew, is she not? I do believe his name is Prince Friedrich.” Anthony gave a short nod, and I could tell that he was already dreading a night of being surrounded by desperate mamas along with their unabashed daughters. Who would blame the Viscount for trying to discourage total strangers from making unwelcome advantages?

I was unexpectedly given the best idea by his affirmation, and I couldn't wait to put it into motion. I wanted to prove my worth to Simon, which would make Anthony and the Prince the ideal partners to irk him. “What say you to opening Simon's eyes in the notion that I attract His Highness tonight? I will have to be in the most magnificent ballgown, and I know that you can help me with this.”

“In the heat of the moment, it won't take a lot of effort to raise feelings of inadequacy in Hastings. He will be fixated on Daphne and attempting to keep conversations with literally everyone who comes across him, but I don't find it unlikely that he will be observing you with the Prince. I know I wouldn't have the means to take my eyes off you, my dear.” That was just what I expected to hear from him, and furthermore. I felt that I had done well enough to seek a Viscount who had awareness of everyone else around him.

Then that settled it. I was going to win the Prince's favor, and Simon would spectate from the sidelines with no likelihood of attempting to snatch me away. It felt invigorating even to think about how it would play out tonight, but it would be seamless with Anthony's help. “For your time and soothing words, I am beyond delighted, Anthony. Until the ball, there is more than enough time, so I want to use it to aim for perfection. Tonight, I hope to see you, my lord.”

“Miss Denbow, I am forever happy to console a lady when she is enduring pain. And indeed, tonight, to my great reluctance, you will see me. For now, I will leave you and I look forward to enjoying your progress.” Anthony bowed as he started to walk out of the family room, and with a curtsey and a goodbye, I accompanied him to our front door.

Since then, hours have passed, and I finally found a dress from Lady Delacroix that was incredible. She wasn't even from France, and her accent didn't fool me. Not important. My makeup was done by Marianne, my hair was styled by Lucinda, and mama lent me her diamond necklace to wear. It matched the diamond earrings I got from papa on my eighteenth birthday, and tonight, nothing could go wrong. I was positive of that.

The time had come, and I was one of the few to arrive at the castle fashionably late. The eyes of all were on me, making my chest swell with pride. I got a glimpse of Simon and Daphne who were standing by the refreshments, and they couldn't stop watching as I elegantly walked down the stairwell.

To my amusement, Prince Friedrich was the first one to approach me, and he held my hand and placed a feather-light kiss on the back of it. “Good evening, my lady. You are by far the most beautiful and hypnotizing center of attraction in this ballroom. May I inquire for your name?”

I concealed the lower half of my face with a fan and smiled with my eyes, captivated by his mannerisms. “I have the luxury of being graced by your presence, your highness. My name is y/n Denbow.” After I've presented myself, Prince Friedrich's face lit up, and he guided me off the the last two steps. “To my ears, your name is like music, and it's perfect for a maiden like you, Miss Denbow.”

His flattery would make any young lady practically beg the Prince for a dance at the ball. Well, if he could ever tear himself away from me, that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty. You make me feel like I've got my head in the clouds. If you keep complimenting her, you will certainly find yourself a maiden to court this evening.” From my comment, I swore he blushed a bright red.

“Ah, hello, Prince Friedrich! Miss Denbow! I see that you have made friends with each other. Y/n, I'm so happy you've arrived safe and sound back in London.” Lady Danbury tapped her cane on the ground twice to emphasize her excitement, and I couldn't have been more relieved to see a familiar face among those whose names I couldn't match.

“I have so much to tell you, Lady Danbury. But not here, especially when I came so late.” I apologized to the Prince and wrapped my arm around Lady Danbury as we walked into a more private area. She furrowed her eyebrows together, but she didn't inquire until we got to the place where we could be alone. “Well, speak to me, y/n. What are you so worried about? And why did you come by yourself?”

I bit my lower lip and exhaled deeply, which all the more displeased Lady Danbury. If I tried to explain my desperate condition to her, she was going to have countless questions, and I knew she would never let Simon live in the humiliation he brought upon himself. “I'm sure you've recently read Lady Whistledown's column, and my relationship with Simon, Lady Danbury, is complicated.”

“Unbeknownst to me, when I was in France, he and Miss Bridgerton declared their engagement. He did not give me a letter or even a note when I returned to London that he had gone ahead with a marriage proposal to a young woman he had never met before. I invited him and the Bridgertons to have a picnic just yesterday. I have never been able to remain quiet forever; you know this, Lady Danbury. He lashed out at me, claiming that if he had known that I would be so self-centered and petty, he would never have gotten to know me.”

She went on a tangent as I predicted about how she raised and trained "the shameless rake" to do better than what he did. During the length of her grievances, I remained silent, then patted her arm softly when she started to run out of words to illustrate the Duke. “Compared to his late father, he's not terrible, but he might just be so after he treated you, y/n, and I apologize on his behalf.”

In disagreement, I shook my head, not acknowledging her apologies because she had nothing to do with that. In the sense of flirting with Prince Friedrich, all I wanted from her was to be an addition to humiliate Simon. “If we succeed, then he'll see the good thing that he lost because he agreed to marry another needy girl.”

This caused Lady Danbury to chuckle at my remark, and I had an inkling that her mood improved just a little bit. “I’ll take part in your schemes, girl. Now, let us return to the ball before we’re asked of our whereabouts.” She winked playfully, then gently pushed me back the way we came from.

Men and women danced to their heart’s content, their veins pumping with champagne and even the possibility that they will be courting after tonight. I see Anthony and Simon quietly bickering where no one could eavesdrop on the conversation, but their secrets weren’t going to be hidden from me. “Lord Bridgerton, I thought you promised me a dance?”

I chimed into the midst of their argument, and Simon’s mouth hung open in shock. He quickly closed it, though, and I bowed to him as acknowledgment for his presence. Anthony gathered the remnants of his dignity before offering a hand for me to take. “My apologies, Miss Denbow. I promise you that never slipped my mind from the moment that I asked.”

After the brief yet nerve wracking encounter with the Duke of Hastings, I’m led to have a dance with the Viscount and my new partner of schemes. I felt everyone’s eyes glued to us, which makes me uncomfortable because of the unwanted attention, but it dissolves when Anthony nudges me to look up at him. That’s when I knew how much I admired the man, and perhaps, there wasn’t any obstacle that we wouldn’t be able to overcome.

I may have lost my first love to Daphne, but I also had the power to pull the necessary strings to get what I wanted. Anthony tightened his grip on my waist then closed the gap between us, and out of the corner of my eye, I watched as Simon glare at our swaying figures amongst the others. The spectacle made me laugh softly against the Viscount’s shoulder, and his chest rumbled with a quiet laugh of his own.

“I believe that taught him a harsh lesson, don’t you think, Miss Denbow?” Anthony whispered into my ear, and an involuntary shiver ran down my spine. After clearing my throat, I nodded in agreement. The man wasn’t exactly reputable in every way, but he damn well had my respect. “Yes, it most certainly did, Lord Bridgerton.” I replied, head tilted downwards to avoid eye contact with him.

Once our dance came to an end, I was approached by Prince Friedrich a second time this evening. Young and older women alike flocked around his highness, and I took a small step closer to Anthony in fear that I would be ridiculed by them. Wait, what am I thinking? I shouldn’t be afraid of the people that make their bosoms unnaturally larger than they actually are nor should I be backing away!

“Miss Denbow, may I have this next dance? It’d make me extremely delighted.” Prince Friedrich asked, unknowingly breaking the tension growing between myself and the disappointed women behind him. All I gave him was a smile along with an enthusiastic nod, and Anthony released his arms from around my waist. “I’d love to, your highness. And I could say the same about myself.”

The prince took my hand just when the next song began to play, and we danced as if we were one. If I were being completely honest, he needed a little more practice with his feet, but I was enjoying myself nonetheless. We shared a few words and I kept glancing over our shoulders to see if Simon was keeping an eye on us. In fact, he had been watching the entire time, and Anthony gave me a signal that our plan had succeeded.

I bowed deeply to the prince when our dance came to its regrettable end, and bid him farewell for the rest of the night. Simon appeared out of nowhere then pulled me to an empty area despite my cries of protest. “What do you think you’re doing?! Just because you’re jealous does not give you the right to drag me as you so please, Hastings!”

“Will you keep it down, Y/N?! We both know that I’m not the only jealous one here.” He huffs angrily, and for the first time in a long time, he’s rendered me utterly speechless. No, I won’t play by his rules. Not when there was so much more for me to accomplish. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m simply fulfilling my role as a maiden who hopes to have a courtship.”

Simon rolled his eyes in disbelief, turning away from me so that I’m only staring at his broad shoulders. I’m beginning to lose my calm composure, and the more I stay alone with him, the less I’ll want to leave. He can’t learn of the nights when I suffered alone in France, and he certainly couldn’t force me to risk my reputation for his sake.

“You’ve changed, Simon.” My voice broke at the end of my sentence, but I continued to speak. “I’m not doing anything for you, so don’t get your hopes up.” He scoffed, not convinced by my words, and turned back to face me. His arms find their way around my body like they used to in the past. The next thing I knew, we’re kissing passionately against the cold marble walls.

He had me mewling his name over and over again, begging for a release that was on his fingertips. Simon muffled my sighs of pleasure with his mouth, and we fixed the bridge that was crumbling between the two of us. When we were satisfied, he muttered apology after apology as he kissed my skin. But we both knew that we run away with the position that he was in.

“I’ll figure it out, so wait for me. Please, Y/N.” “Don’t make me promise you, Simon. I want you to prove to me that I’m the only woman you love.” I kissed his neck and cheek, my heartbeat slowing to its normal pace before I fixed my dress. We’ve both been gone for too long, and I didn’t doubt that I would be questioned of my whereabouts.

Simon understood the weight of my words as well as what we would both face when we left separately. He kissed me one last time, and made his return to the ballroom until I did the same. Thankfully, neither Anthony or Mama asked where I had been, and I could breathe easy again. But now I was even more conflicted than before. I made Simon jealous, which ignited sex and doubt that we would be together after all this time.

Although... if I were to adjust my original plans in order for us to have a wedding and deal with the consequences afterwards, then it shouldn’t be very difficult, would it? Well, we would just need to face the challenges when the time comes, and I was determined to have Simon all to myself again.

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #simon basset #reader x simon basset #anthony bridgerton

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honhonluigi · 3 years

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I was wondering, do you think Nagito sees himself as below talentless people? Or at least on the same level? I see lots of people characterize that he hates them and/or would treat them badly, but I just don't agree. I've been trying to study his character deeply and imo you're the person who writes him the best that I've seen so I wanted your opinion. Sorry if this is out of the blue or if you don't want to answer I understand.

I’m the person you think writes him the best? Thank you! That’s incredibly flattering. I try my absolute best to keep him in-character, and to keep his character aligned with the games and not just my own opinions. I study and analyze all of his actions very deeply, and weigh them against each. And to me, the answer is obvious.

I don’t agree with that either. Nagito is not a prejudiced snob. (That’s Byakuya). He doesn’t hate talentless people. I absolutely believe that he sees himself as on the same level as them, or only very slightly above them, if anything. I don’t ever think Nagito would “hate all talentless people” or treat someone badly just because they were talentless, or make that kind of judgement against them. I talk about this a lot on Nagito’s blog, and I really hope that it comes through pretty clearly. I never want to portray Nagito as some kind of prejudiced asshole.

Because he’s not. Canon clearly shows that he isn’t. All the evidence points to him not specifically always hating talentless people. Let’s examine it, the way I did when I came up with my conclusions:

First of all, we have a canon example of how he treats talentless people. It’s Hajime. (And I know Komahina/Nagito haters will immediately go “Yeah! See! He treated Hajime horribly because he was talentless!” Well, you’re a fucking idiot, and you’re completely wrong, but we’ll get to that in a second.)

Let’s look at chapter 1. Nagito is nothing but sweet and considerate to Hajime the entire time, despite Hajime “forgetting” his talent. He sits with Hajime while he’s unconscious on the beach before Nagito even has a chance to know that he has a talent or not. He shows him around. He acts like his best friend the entire time. Despite Hajime not having a talent.

“But he thought Hajime had a talent then!” You may say. And to that: You’re wrong. Nagito specifically says in the first trial that “Hajime and I are on the same level, since he can’t remember his talent.” That’s why he thought he had a shot at being Hajime’s friend. This proves that 1) Nagito viewed Hajime as ‘talentless’ for as long as he didn’t have a talent, since Nagito definitely didn’t consider himself as “on the same level” as Ultimate Students. and 2) That Nagito saw Hajime as talentless and still treated him kindly.

That sets the tone for the whole analysis. Nagito saw Hajime as pretty much talentless right up until he found the files in the Funhouse, and he still treated him well.

Let’s look at chapters 2-4 (up until Gundham’s trial). Hajime is consistently awful to Nagito. Nagito does his best to still be nice to Hajime. Yes, they argue a lot, but that’s Hajime’s fault. Nagito just disagrees with him, or says something crazy about hope, and Hajime can’t handle it. He’s a hot-head. Nagito’s not being ‘deliberately antagonistic’ by just...not agreeing with Hajime. Let alone being cruel on purpose or fighting on purpose. Hajime’s hatred of him was entirely his own fault. The whole time, Nagito still acted nice to Hajime, talked to him, assisted in trials, and was kind. Even if he talked crazy about hope and dared to disagree with Hajime, that doesn’t count as “cruel treatment”.

Alright, now we’ll get to the part that everyone misconceives as proof that Nagito hates all talentless people ever. And it’s so...so unbelievably stupid that it makes my brain hurt just to think about it.

Let’s talk about the Funhouse. While they were starving to death, Nagito was nicer to Hajime than any other time since Ch 1. He only started being mean to Hajime after the investigation, when he went through the Final Dead Room. Why? Because he found Monokuma’s secret reward files. At least everyone can agree on that.

But here most people stop and say “Nagito hated Hajime because he found out he was a Reserve Course Student, and what he says to him proves it!” That’s not true. Let’s really think about it.

What was in the files in the first place? Monokuma admitted after Nagito’s death that what Nagito found showed to him that everyone in his class was in Despair. It had the information on the Despair personalities of all his classmates. Wait...Wait a second? Who was Hajime in Despair? Izuru motherfucking Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope. I don’t doubt that Nagito found out that Hajime was in the Reserve Course, but that wasn’t the only thing he saw. He saw Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope. And he only got angry with Hajime after finding out that he had a real talent.

Why? Because the reason Nagito was angry has absolutely fucking nothing to do with Hajime’s talent (or lack of it). And what he says to Hajime proves it. He comes up to him angry and says things like “You think you can just become hope because you want to? That’s so selfish! You can’t just become hope just because you want it badly! A talentless person like you has no chance of that!”

What Nagito said was aimed at Izuru Kamukura. He would’ve seen in the files that Izuru Kamukura was a leader of Despair. He would’ve seen that he was “The Ultimate Hope”. And he would’ve learned about Izuru’s part in bringing down Hope’s Peak (which in game canon is the Student Council Murders). Why do you think he was so bent out of shape about Hajime “trying to become hope”? In his eyes, he saw Hajime as some selfish Reserve Course Student who got jealous of Ultimates, who tried to just ‘become hope’ because he felt like it, and ended up destroying everything in the process. Including the school and students that Nagito idolized so much. If you replay the actual conversation, the focus of Nagito’s anger is not that Hajime is talentless, but that he tried to become the Ultimate Hope despite being talentless. He doesn’t go up to Hajime and say “ugh, you’re talentless, and I fucking hate you” he goes “why would you do something like that!? why would you try to become hope!? that’s selfish and irresponsible and you should’ve known that it would end in disaster!”

The reason people get confused is because you hear that conversation before you find out what Izuru did. I was confused too. I was appalled at how Nagito was acting. But once I learned what he read in the files, it made so much sense to me. He was angry at Hajime “trying to become hope” not “being talentless”.

And if you think that conversation was insulting...Yes, it was. Yes, in that moment, Nagito was trying to be mean to Hajime. Not because he hated him for being talentless, but because he was genuinely angry. Angry for what Izuru did, but also hurt and betrayed. Nagito probably felt very betrayed after learning that.

He said the whole time that it was suspicious that Hajime didn’t remember his talent. Monokuma told them there was a traitor, “working with the enemy”. Nagito admitted that he suspected Hajime of being the traitor. What do you think he thought when he saw that ‘Hajime Hinata’ was actually Izuru Kamukura, Head of Despair? Especially when Hajime was the only one who didn’t remember his (very incriminating) talent, and the only calling himself by a different name? Nagito probably thought Hajime was the mastermind. That he knew everything. That he started everything. And he was probably horribly angry and hurt. That’s why he wanted to fight with Hajime. Not because he was talentless.

If you think that’s just a bunch of speculation, then I have two very canon pieces of proof for it. Pieces of proof that don’t make sense if he just ‘hates Hajime because he hates all talentless people.’

After Nagito found the Despair files, he hated everyone. Yes, even his talented Ultimate Hope classmates. He was angry with every single person there. During Gundham’s trial, he did nothing but sass and insult them all. He even said “this is the best that Hope’s Peak has to offer? How disappointing. Some Symbols of Hope you are” or something to that exact affect. He was furious with everyone after what he found. Whether they had a talent or not.

Secondly, Nagito started being nice to Hajime again after the Funhouse. Close to his death, he was talking as kindly to Hajime as he ever did. Try to spend free time with him and he said things like “oh, it’s so nice that you want to spend time with me, and I really wish I could, but--” After Nagito got over his anger, he went right back to treating Hajime as nice as he always did. Even though, by that point, he definitely knew that Hajime had no talent. The Funhouse conversation didn’t prove that he hated Hajime and all talentless people forever. He was just angry. He’s allowed to do that.

But it goes beyond Hajime. He’s just an example of Nagito’s canonical interactions with a talentless person.

Look at Nagito’s own words and actions. Obviously he doesn’t see himself as “as good” as Ultimate Students. He constantly calls himself worthless and horrible. And you know what else? Talentless. Nagito refers to himself as talentless. He sees himself as on the same level as them.

After the first trial, his big speech makes it obvious. The whole trial, he talked about being used as a stepping stone for hope. About his only life’s purpose being to help hope, because it was the only use for a talentless person like himself. Then, after the trial, he goes out and makes a big speech saying “talentless people are worthless and have no purpose but to die for the sake of hope!” And people think he means Reserve Course Students??? Who the fuck would he be talking about if not himself? He had no idea there was anyone talentless on the island, and certainly not a talentless person involved in his murder plans. The only person like that who was involved was him. And he spoke about himself in that exact same way. “I have no purpose but to die for the sake of hope, because I’m a talentless person and my life is worthless” compare to “talentless people have worthless lives and exist for nothing but to die for hope”. Right after that trial. When he didn’t know there was anyone else talentless on the island. When everyone was asking him “why the hell would you do something like that!?” Who the fuck else would he be talking about? He was talking about himself. It was supposed to show how crazy he was about himself and the idea of hope, not about his prejudice towards...characters that weren’t even known yet? And that very much proves that he sees himself as on the same level as talentless people, not better than them.

It’s also proved by his interactions with Hajime after the Funhouse. By this point, Nagito knows without a doubt that Hajime is talentless. And yet when you try to spend time with him, he still says things like “I can’t believe you want to spend time with a worthless person like me”. Despite talking to someone talentless, he’s still insecure. He still calls himself worthless. He doesn’t act snobby or lord himself over Hajime. He’s just as self-loathing as he always is.

I could probably explain this better, but it’s 4 AM so. If something is unclear, ask. I will have proof. My proof is pretty indisputable. Otherwise I wouldn’t have formed this opinion.

Anyway, Nagito doesn’t hate talentless people. He’s not a fucking snob. People who characterize him like that just want an excuse to hate him and see him as a bad person, because they don’t want to admit that they hate him because of how his mental disorder makes him act. And they need a “that’s problematic” reason to hate a character, because simply not enjoying a character isn’t a valid enough reason to have an opinion, apparently. That, or they just weren’t bothering to pay attention to him at all, and only remember the one Funhouse conversation.

Nagito views himself as on the same level as talentless people. He doesn’t think he’s better than them, even if he doesn’t think that he’s worse. When he interacts with talentless people, he’s still just as humble and kind as he is to everyone else. Maybe he could stand up for himself better to talentless people, but that’s as far as I would take it. He doesn’t hate talentless people. That’s just dumb.

#I stayed up way too late to answer this #but people's dumb uninformed opinions of this game #keep me up at night

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