#still working on him a bit though but ive done enough work to answer a few questions about him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janaispunk · 5 months

Text

are you ever dreaming of me?

series masterlist • this is part IV

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

a/n: This got very dark very quickly, but it had to be done. It’s basically just one big love letter from me to Dave and his character. I know Dave’s behavior in the last chapter has been a little frustrating but I hope it’ll make more sense now (it’s still frustrating though ngl). I also know this is not as smut-heavy as the other chapters, which might come as a disappointment to some. Stay with me here, more filth is coming soon, I just had to get emotional for a second. <3 (also, please be nice because I lowkey hate this, actually)

word count: ~3.1k

summary: Dave’s side of the story.

warnings: ANGST, bits of fluff if you squint, age-gap, mentions of killing people, mentions of death, mentions of rough sex, power imbalance, able-bodied reader, somewhat unhealthy relationship dynamics, dubios morals (Dave is cheating on his wife… kinda), idiots in love, this whole serious is still very much 18+ only, mdni… did I mention angst? (As always, please tell if if I forgot something!)

dividers by @/saradika <3

find my full masterlist here!

Dave York isn’t a good man.

He isn’t a good man and he hasn’t been in a long time. He probably had been, once, when he first joined the military, when he still thought that he was doing the good thing, the right thing. Before he killed his first man. Now he’s living in shades of gray, where nothing is as simple as right or wrong.

He knows that what he’s doing is not right, but then again, the people that he’s killing aren’t good men either. He’s doing what he’s good at, what he has been trained to do for years. He doesn’t really know what else he’s good at. If there even is anything else.

He makes enough money to provide well for his daughters, the only thing in his life that he really cares about, the two girls that he loves more than anything. He loved their mother too, once, when they were both young. They were high school sweethearts, got married quickly simply because that was the thing that you did, only to realize later that adult life with each other wasn’t what either of them had imagined.

He’s never told Carol what exactly it is that he does, trying to protect her, which then led to her not understanding what was going on when he came home feeling cold and empty, a void inside of him that nothing could fill. They both grew distant from each other, not sharing any real connection anymore, just living aside one another. It works for him; their daughters are still the top priority for both of them, and they’re going to do everything in their power to give them the best possible childhood.

He suspects that Carol is seeing someone else, with the way she’s sometimes working late for no good reason, sliding out of the room to answer her phone at odd hours, the way he occasionally finds a position on their shared credit card bill that he doesn’t have an explanation for.

Dave knows that if he cared, he could easily find out every little detail about it. If he cared, he would probably be angry at how she’s not even making an effort to hide it. But the thing is - he just can’t bring himself to care. Has never done the same thing either, neither out of spite, nor because he had any desire for it.

Until he met her.

Sitting in a hotel bar, two seats over from him, when he’d just gotten a job done and figured that a quick drink might help him fall asleep easier. The whiskey’s burn in his throat didn’t ease the coldness that felt like it had permanently settled into his chest, not that he’d expected it to.

He had just decided to retreat to his room and get out of the city first thing in the morning when she sighed loudly and downed her own drink abruptly. He had noticed her when he walked in, the way he always clocked every person in any room he entered, and every possible exit route. He had absentmindedly noted that she was attractive, then dismissed the thought immediately. Probably here for a date, much younger than him, not paying him any mind. Not a threat, and therefore not important.

Not important at all, until he found himself turning to her and offering to buy her another drink before his mind had even caught up to his actions, learning that she had just been stood up for what would indeed have been a date, noticing the glint of interest in her gaze as she eyed him up and down, feeling a kind of longing that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Getting her to go up to his room with him had been easy. A mutual understanding of wanting each other, the desire to turn a shitty evening into something else, something that he doesn’t think either of them understood at the time.

Kissing her for the first time had been easy, too. Touching her, feeling her hot skin under his fingertips, her entire being so much softer, lighter than he was, felt easy. It felt right, like something that he hadn’t known he was missing right until that moment. He wanted to devour her, make her his, get her as close as he possibly could, before he inevitably had to give up this fleeting moment of something that suspiciously felt like happiness, and happiness never stayed within his reach for too long.

Sinking into her for the first time, hearing her gasp, her breath hot against his neck, felt even better. This was never gonna last, things this good never did. The way she clenched around him when he first slapped her ass and her whimper of “harder, please” turned him feral in a way that he hadn’t known before. How she gave up all control to him so willingly when his entire life had felt out of control for so long - it was addicting. He had known that he would come back for more again and again before he had even spilled himself into her for the first time.

He hadn’t planned for her to stay the night. Hadn’t planned for the way she kissed his lips in the morning, acting a little shy, like she was worried that he might send her away, but so clearly showing him that she wanted more of him, if that was what he wanted. And god damn, did he want to give her more, give her all that he had to offer, if only it wasn’t for the fact that any more of him would be enough to scare her away for good.

So, he didn’t give her more. Made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t looking for an emotional attachment, told her about his marriage, told her that they couldn’t be a thing. She was quick to hide her disappointment, but not quick enough for him not to notice. He half expected her to walk out then, that this wasn’t something she wanted, but instead she scribbled down her phone number, gave him a flirty smile and told him to call her “whenever”.

He knew he was being greedy, that he should have kept it a one time thing that he could keep a fond memory of, but of course he called her. Kept making stops in her town before flying back home, started spending weekends with her, the feeling of being around her too good to let go of.

He knows that it’s not right, that he’s probably taking advantage of her in some way. Of course he sees how badly she wants to please him, how she looks at him like he’s hung the moon for her. She has never denied him anything, no matter what kinds of depraved things he’s wanted to do with her. Hesitated, yes, but she has never said no. Never called red, never asked him to stop. Not when he first told her to call him “sir”, not when he spanked her for the first time, not when he’s edging her until she’s barely coherent, not when his fingers tightened around her throat for the first time. He could leave her a crying, shaking mess on the floor, and by the end of the night she’d still look up at him with those wide eyes and thank him.

It’s addictive and he can’t stop, always comes back for more when it feels like his whole life is spiraling out of his control again, when the darkness around him is threatening to swallow him whole. She’ll let him grab at her with rough hands, mold her body into any shape he wants, let him spit filth at her and let lose until he feels grounded again, until some of the darkness around him has dissipated.

Lately, work has been weighing on him even harder. Maybe he’s just getting older, maybe he has finally reached his limit, he’s not sure. With the whole week off, an incredibly rare occurrence, he knew who he wanted to spend it with. She had seemed stressed lately, like she needed a break too, so it was easy to convince himself that he was doing this for her. That it wasn’t just a selfish plan of his to spend more time with her.

Because somewhere along the way he has come to enjoy the time with her way too much. He enjoys lying in bed together, both of them catching their breaths, laughing about a stupid joke, the little tidbits from her life that she shares with him, the rare occasions when they’re walking around her neighborhood. The way she shyly grabbed his hand the first time, like she was scared that he would pull it away. The smile that she tried to but couldn’t hide when he didn’t.

This isn’t right and it’s not going to last, he’s well aware of that. As clear as he has been about his intentions, he still feels like he’s leading her on sometimes. But it feels too good to stop, to let go of one of the few comforts that he has in life.

The past few days with her have been heaven. He hadn’t anticipated how much he would enjoy spending so much uninterrupted time with her, how good it would feel to be around her the entire day, just watching her be herself and listening to her talking. And he has been talking as well, the feeling of speaking to someone without an ulterior motive, of someone listening to him just because they wanted to, more meaningful to him than he could put into words.

And all throughout, she had so willingly bent to his every wish, put all her trust into him, secure in the knowledge that in the end, he would take care of her.

So, Dave had let his guard down. Relaxed. Then the dream happened.

Last night, he had come home to find the girls slaughtered in their house, their small bodies soaked in blood. It’s a recurring nightmare, a fear that he can never entirely shake off, that haunts his subconscious every couple of weeks. He’s being thorough in his work, never leaving loose ends, keeping his private life concealed from the world that he moves in. The risk that anything could happen to them is as low as he can push it, but it’s not zero. Never zero, and it’s eating at him. Usually, he wakes up alone, gasping for breath, the sheets soaked with sweat. Him and Carol haven’t slept in the same bed for a long time.

Last night, it had been different. It had been different because she had been there beside him, shaking him awake and holding him in her arms until he calmed back down. It had also been different because she had been part of the dream. Just as dead, just as blood-soaked as his daughters.

She had been so sweet when he woke up, and it broke his heart. He wasn’t a good person. He was endangering everyone around him, he was endangering her by not being able to end this thing with her, and yet here she was, oblivious, comforting him.

He had always thought that eventually, he would be the one to break things off. But what if it was her? What if she figured out what a pathetic excuse of a man he was, that he couldn’t give her anything? Not a real relationship, and no future. He couldn’t let her in, couldn’t let her see who he was. What he did, what he was afraid of - and just how realistic those fears were.

He couldn’t even bear to picture the look on her face if he ever told her. The betrayal, the disgust, and eventually the fear. He couldn’t tell her. He wouldn’t. But how could he go on with this, knowing that every minute that he spends with her, he puts her in danger? Someone could find out. Someone could find her.

So does what he does best. Makes a plan. Suppresses his emotions until he’s sure of what to do. How to keep her safe. The logical part of his mind arrives at a solution pretty quickly: She’ll be safest if she stays away from him.

The emotional part of him, the part that he tries to keep shut down, doesn’t approve of this idea.

He has to tell her. Sooner rather than later, while the dream is still fresh in his memory, while he can still see her dead body when he closes his eyes.

Because he obviously knew about the dangers of being with him when he first laid eyes on her. When he kissed her for the first time, texted her for the first time, walked up to her apartment for the first time, when he booked this damn vacation because he’s unable to stay away from her. Unable to think straight when it comes to her. There’s a million reasons why he shouldn’t be with her and yet, he always finds a reason not to quit.

He tells himself that he’ll speak to her as soon as she gets up. Then once he’s done with his phone call. Maybe after they’ve had breakfast. At the end of the day, when they’re back in the room. He never does. He can’t.

The tension has become unbearable at that point. He knows that she’s confused, that she has questions that he doesn’t have answers for. His life feels out of control once again, so he tries gaining it back in the only way that he knows.

He half expected her to refuse him, but she seems just as relieved as he feels when he tells her to get down on her knees. Afterwards, he doesn’t feel better. Possibly hates himself even more.

He can tell that she’s off afterwards, and he’s battling himself to comfort her. This is not what he should be doing. None of this is what he should be doing.

Usually, she tucks herself into the space between his shoulder and his chest before he can even say a word. Not tonight. Tonight, she had her back turned to him before he had even switched off the lights, the “good night” that she normally breathes against his neck nothing more than a murmur from her side of the bed.

He stares at her backside in the darkness of the room, the way she seems to be curling in on herself, and he has no idea what to do. What they just did seemed like what she wanted, she had appeared eager, enthusiastic even, but maybe he read her wrong. Shit, he hadn’t even asked for her color once.

It’s quiet for a long time. He finally feels himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when her hears her sniffle. His eyes fly open again. It’s only minimal movements, but he can see her tremble ever so slightly. Fuck it, he thinks to himself as he reaches out towards her.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

You tense at his words, at the fact that he’s apparently awake. Has probably been the whole time. You try your hardest to make your voice sound normal, even though you know that it’s pointless.

“Nothing.”

It comes out even weaker than you had anticipated. You keep your back to him and feel him shuffling closer, his hand gently pulling at your shoulder to turn you towards him. “Baby. Talk to me.” His voice is soft in your ear and your heart is beating painfully in your chest. Baby. He has never called you Baby before. You feel a fresh wave of tears welling up in your eyes and shake your head but let him turn you around until you’re facing him.

His eyes search your face in the faint moonlight that’s filtering into the room and his hands cup your damp cheeks, his thumbs gently running over the skin under your eyes. The worry that’s so evident in his expression right now makes you want to break down. You’re exhausted, and confused, and you don’t understand the man in front of you and his contradictory behavior at all. So far you’ve been crying silently, but you can feel your bottom lip trembling as you try to suppress the sobs that are threatening to crawl up your throat.

“Did I- shit, was I too rough, did I hurt you? You didn’t say anything, but I never asked- I should’ve checked, I’m sorry, I-“

“You didn’t hurt me,” you whisper, cutting off his frantic rambling. He didn’t, not in the way that he’s referring to, anyway.

“Then what’s wrong?” he pleads, his hands still on your face, “Talk to me.” You inhale deeply. You really don’t want to have this conversation, but maybe it’s best like this. Rip the bandaid off, make it quick.

“Do you want to leave?”

Your voice breaks on the last word. He stares at you for a beat, his eyes wide. “Do I- What?” You shrug, unable to bring yourself to ask a second time. One of his hands slides down to your shoulder, holding you there. He doesn’t speak, his eyes boring into you.

You can’t hold his gaze any longer, your eyes dropping down to his chest instead. “You’ve been… weird. Today. I thought- I don’t fucking know, that I had done something or that you’ve-“ a sob breaks free and interrupts you, “that you’ve had enough of me. That you don’t want to go on with… this.” You gesture helplessly between the two of you.

You’re certain that now you’ve said too much, that if he hadn’t had enough before, he definitely has now. You’re supposed to be fun, a distraction, not someone who’s clinging to him, but you’re feeling too exhausted, too raw to keep pretending like this thing between you doesn’t mean something. To you, at least.

“Fuck,” Dave mumbles, and you gaze up to see the anguish in his eyes before his arms envelop you and he presses you against his chest, speaking into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise.”

It’s quiet for a minute as you’re inhaling his scent, trying to calm yourself down, when something occurs to you. “You didn’t say no,” you whisper into his chest, “you said that I didn’t do anything, but… you didn’t say that you don’t want to leave.” Dave freezes for just a second, searching your face, then he sighs heavily. He sounds defeated, you think.

“No, I don’t want to leave.”

taglist/people who have expressed interest in this: @joelscurls @reddedmiller @iamasaddie @guelyury @theywhowriteandknowthings @amanitacowboy @corazondebeskar @vabeachazn @mellymbee @bbyanarchist @untamedheart81 @missladym1981 @no1-nosesitter

let me know if you wanna be added, also no hard feelings if you wanna be removed! 🫶🏻

if you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

series masterlist

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #the equalizer 2 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

187 notes · View notes

cat3ch1sm · 1 year

Text

⚰️~ hello, everyone! welcome back to another post. i finally finished my masterlist, so now it will be updated as i write and upload new works. see my pinned post to find the masterlist <33 anyway, here are some nsfw jjk headcanons. ive done these before, with death note and hxh, and they can be found in the masterlist! i will probably do this for all the fandoms i write for lmao 💚 enjoy, ily <33

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ nsfw ahead, fem!reader, eating out

𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭 😺? 𝐟𝐭. 𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞! 𝐟𝐭. (aged up!) 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢, 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐚, 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢, 𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢

𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢

some people are weird about eating 😺, but not itadori. he’ll do whatever you want to make you feel good. he might not really know what he’s doing at first, but a nudge in the right direction and he’s got it- just tell him where it feels best when he runs his tongue over your sex and itadori will never forget. he’s really eager with it, too, kinda like a puppy tbh with his tongue flicking up and down your clit. (a/n-bitch what the fuck kinda comparison is that stop😭😭) itadori asks constantly “does this feel good?” “does that feel good?” and he’ll just keep going like that even when he’s obviously doing well and you can’t even get a word out to answer him. he’s really good at making you finish, not too fast and not too slow, and he’ll swallow whatever comes out of you.

𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐢

nobara, believe it or not, is a tiny bit shy about being eaten out or eating someone else out. still, she’s not selfish, so nobara will definitely eat you out if you really want her to. she might start out a bit tentative. she isn’t really the “does this feel good?” type like itadori, but she does pay attention to your body language, like where she kisses you that makes your breath hitch or where she licks that makes your moans louder. when nobara gets the hang of it, though, she kinda gets cocky, but not in a genuinely mean way. she’s more like a soft dominant type, like “that feel good, huh, baby?” or “you like when i do this, don’t you?” AGH i wish this girl was real im literally so weak for her.

𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨

suspiciously enough, he’s very good at it (what girl taught u this nigga?🤨) the only thing is he can be a tiny bit timid, so he’s a little slow to make you cum. as a result, though, megumi’s great at edging, however unintentionally. he can stall an orgasm for just long enough that it feels twice as amazing when you finally come. he is also big on foreplay, and makes you wait until he actually puts his mouth on you. expect lots of light thigh kisses and breathplay before megumi actually eats you out. he also likes to use his fingers on you simultaneously, except he goes agonizingly slowly on purpose just to listen to your needy whimpers. he’s honesty just as cocky as someone like gojo would be doing this, just in a much quieter way, but you can see it in his eyes.

𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢

he eats your 😺 mainly for his own pleasure. because of this, he likes to prolong the time before you come as much as possible- toge’s very big on edging. obviously he can’t dirty talk, but his actions speak for themselves. he kisses you a lot, both during and after eating you out as praise. when you grind your hips into his tongue, toge squeezes your thighs to let you know you’re doing a good job. he also does not care about wiping his mouth off after you cum in his mouth before kissing you- he loves hearing the tiny whimpers you emit when you taste yourself on his lips.

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧

i kinda hc that maki is wlw anyway (please don’t kill me), so she’s not new to eating 😺. at the same time, though, that means not every girl likes the same things, so she’s very attentive to how your body reacts and asks every now and then if what she’s doing feels good. maki is big on edging and overstimulation- she won’t let you come for the longest time and make you beg for it and then immediately after make you come until you physically can’t anymore. also soft dom energy- “you’re doing so well, pretty girl” or “come on, beautiful, i know you can come just one more time for me, okay?” although maki does overstimulate you, she isn’t mean about it, and will definitely periodically make sure she isn’t doing too much. she’s also the type who lets out these low, barely audible moans when she’s eating you out- that’s how much she enjoys making you feel good.

387 notes · View notes

unexpectedbrickattack · 6 months

Note

You know, a bonus to designing the oc is that other people will drawn them in the scenarios you share! I know your lore really made me excited to see your little fella ^^) it's so nice to encounter someone eho likes SDV in the wild and your world building makes me want to boot up my computer and deal with the lag to see everyone again. I do have to wonder though, what's your take on how the valley feels about JojaMart? It seems like it replaces extensions on the Vally's magic if you fund it.

TRUE…U ARE SO RIGHT!!! Luckily I have a small little ref sheet for him already made heehee. But ill post it on my sdv blog (when i make it). I can put it here too but ill do that under a readmore 😌

Also. U are so sweet 😭 I am so sorry ur game is too laggy to play but i am touched that my little bit of lore is enough for u to want to brave through that mess anyway LMAO

FIRST OF ALL….here is my boy….

His name is June and ive since tweaked some stuff about him. You dont need to know much about him, just that hes a bit of a cryptid among the town for almost two years before townspeople start interacting w him on their own volition. His best friends are Marnie, Kent, and Caroline, and he is really cool w Willy, Linus, and Marlon (old men gang rise up). Also romances Shane which is funny to Me bc whenever shane gets a male farmer to romance i am constantly rotating this image of vincent getting upset and saying ‘gee jas how come YOU get two cool godfathers’

To answer ur question about Jojamart; i feel like it truly wouldnt mess with the balance of magic in the valley. Magic is powerful BUT. It is adaptive. The Junimos harness the magic of the valley to fix things in the broken down community center, but if someone else came along and fixed it for them, well thats one less thing the magic of the valley is used for. Theres plenty of talented people in the valley that dont need magic to get things done 😉 (Robin my beloved)

But i do think jojamart is a big indicator that something is amiss with the town. I think it is a common idea to believe that jojamart is like. Evil. And like. Its totally a soulless corporation, but i think its filling a very specific Need of this town. Pelican town has some very skilled laborers that sell their work and services to help provide not just for themselves, but FOR pelican town; if that still leaves people unable to pay rent/mortgage or groceries, then people will absolutely swoop in and offer ‘solutions’.

I have more Thots but basically……magic is powerful, but it cant do anything on its own. Its utilized by magical beings to make tangible change in the world. But humans are capable of making real and tangible change without the use of magic. Jojamart says ‘here, give me money and time and ill fix this stuff 😉’ and that is not anymore different than Robin, Clint, the junimos, etc saying ‘give me some money and time and i can do this thing for u 😉’. Jojamart is like. Bad. But bad in the same way Pierre owning the only grocery store in town wo employing anyone is bad, and how Lewis is okay with all of this Mess. Its indicative of a bigger problem in the valley that magic cant really fix

#chattin #answered #sdv #TRULY it feels less like a sad mom n pop shop going against a huge corporation #and more like #Small Town Priest who also for some reason owns the most bougie whole foods wannabe grocery in town #competing with a walmart that doesnt even know his face #like hey u make a lot of money dude #maybe employ some people or like. help w feeding ur fucking town man 😭#i do like the idea of the farmer eventually employing ppl to help around the farm #bc the money u make is pretty Ridiculous #and the food (by game standards) easily feed the town #thats not even including willy fishing and contributing as well #and i KNOW he does in my heart i know he does…..#basically basically….jojamart sucks but its not doing anything weird to the valley or its magic #and them doing the repairs in the town doesnt really Steal magic away. it kinda just lets the magic get funneled somewhere else

36 notes · View notes

yakuzacanons · 5 months

Note

I hope your trip went well and you had lots of fun!!! If it's okay to request, could I ask for the boys comforting their S/O if they have to get an IV? I had to get one and it bruised the heck out of my arm :(

Hi hi sorry it took so long to get back to you, the answer is yes you sure can. These will be fairly short but the list of boys has grown quite a bit so hopefully there's a good amount of content to go around and all that. Thanks again for your patience!

Kazuma Kiryu

Type of guy to be like "There, there". Pretty good at soothing you, will happily stroke your hair to comfort you. Helps you take your mind off things by talking to you about things you like.

Majima Goro

Calm on the outside, panicking inside. Hates seeing you in any amount of pain, even if it's just a papercut, so this situation makes him nervous. Still, he'll give his cheeriest "Ya got this!" all while sweating nervously.

Saejima Taiga

Feels bad he can't do much to comfort you in a literal physical sense but will go out of his way to ask if he can do anything or get you anything to make you feel better about this. Totally will pat you on the head with his big ol' hands.

Akiyama Shun

Just as uncomfortable as you are honestly, which can be kind of comforting. He's all like "Ahh, this sucks, I'm sorry you have to go through this". You're gonna get a big kiss on the cheek for your bravery though, so there's that to look forward to.

Tanimura Masayoshi

He ain't scared of no blood. Will have his arm around you as much as he can to comfort you and hold you. Has your favorite drink or snack ready as a surprise treat to distract you from what just happened.

Ryuji Goda

Honestly, the person in the room who's most scared is the doctor or nurse because Ryuji just gives off this vibe of "Ya better do this IV thing right or I'm yer getting a swift kick in the ass". He doesn't mean to, but that's just the aura he gives off. In reality, he's just very serious about making sure you're okay. Once the IV is in, he'll give a heartfelt albeit quite loud "I knew ya could do it".

Nishikyama Akira

Like Akiyama, he's just as unhappy about the whole situation as you are. He's not squeamish about blood though so he won't like close his eyes or look away or anything like that. Once the IV is in, he'll kind of sigh and be like "That wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be". Not sure what he expected to happen honestly.

Daigo Dojima

Calm as hell, calmer than Kiryu even. He's pretty trusting of doctors. He also knows a few really good ones personally so he knows you're in good hands. He's just there to hold your hand, rub your shoulders, or whatever else you may require. He might not be best at giving words of comfort but if you need anything, just say the word.

Mine Yoshitaka

You're getting a nice little kiss on the forehead or on top of your head for being so brave. Mine's not fond of having to get an IV put in either, in fact hospitals and the like kind of make him restless as he doesn't like to be out of commission. Does his best to make the space as comfortable for you as possible by making sure you have enough pillows, that the tempurature is good, that the TV isn't too loud, etc.

Tatsuo Shinada

Kind of clenching his teeth nervously. Has no idea how an IV works and honestly would rather not know the details but sure hopes it's not super painful. Once it's done, he kind of just nods to himself like he's saying "Okay, hard part's over". Actually kind of avoids physically comforting you as he's worried he might accidentally nudge the IV. At least he's aware he can be kind of clumsy.

Ichiban Kasuga

Won't show it on his face but he does watch intensely as it all goes down. Sits right by your bedside and I mean right next to it, he's as close as he can be the whole time. Kind of just talks to you casually afterwards to take your mind off things, all while resting his head on his arms on your bedside.

Tianyou Zhao

Bless his food oriented brain but his first thought when it comes to comforting you is getting you some lunch or dinner as a treat. Unfortunately that may mean him leaving the room for a bit to go grab whatever he's going to grab but he'll be back with food, your favorite drink or dessert, maybe even a plushie that he saw while he was out that made him think of you.

Joon-Gi Han

Not great at using his words to comfort you so he just sits and holds your hand very gently, maybe running his thumb over the top of your hand. Regularly asks how you're feeling or if you need anything but mostly lets you lead the conversation, if you even want to have one.

27 notes · View notes

cosmosees · 1 year

Note

Zetto and/or Kizuna for the character ask?

once again for this...i shall take more if anyone wants to send

under the a cut once again!

ZETTO:

favorite thing about them: when i was a kid the kirb/zetto twist did genuinely make me insane. in a good way. i think hes a really fascinating character in his like...Mentality Switches between personas yk. guy whos a jerk in a funny way vs guy who just actually sucks

least favorite thing about them: honestly i wish it was just made more clear during like episode zero or smth what his stance in sofdti as like....a living thang was? not that it would matter much in the grand scheme of his development but idk kizuna said some SHIT yk

favorite line: id probably say like...a lot of stuff from the nylocke battle in the gemini tournament. absolute lowest point of that guy its really interesting. (obligatory MY ARM AAAAAGHHHHH mention purely because holy shit he was screaming)

brotp: HIM AND GAMESOFT oh my godd them together. aughh. the only two guys who Know the guys who can talk abt shit and he can be sad. solace in understanding and so on

otp: i know its basic but like....alphazet mannn. everything abt the two of them was PAINFULLY gay and its honestly kind of funny kirb (the guy not the character) didnt notice. runner up is him and nylocke becahse i just think they are silly and funny

notp: i dont really have anyone with him that i actively LOATHE but i think its probbably him and kizuna. putting my personal gay zetto hc aside i think theyd both be wayy too codependent unless they got like. therapy. i know a lot of what ive been saying so far makes it sound like i hate kizuna but i dont i PROMISE

random headcanon: i feel like postseries hed find a way to set gs up with a virtual machine desktop of her own so her knowledge of the world can extend beyond what she knows in tome. they spend time bonding over computer science n junk :)

unpopular opinion: im honestly never good at this part but as an adult with better drawing skills now...i actually like drawing his hair

song i associate with them: zetto was never someone i had much of a playlist for back in the day so i had to scrounge a bit but i think i found something satisfactory

favorite picture of them:

KIZUNA:

favorite thing about them: REALLY underrated secondary antagonist, interesting moral code, she has insane girlie guilt over her actions that doesnt get explored enough.....and shes a kitty cat :)

least favorite thing about them: her arc in the original series was like...a little inconclusive? i wish she couldve come to terms with sofdtis sentience and whatnot. the trajectory of a2z is changing her in a way im really liking so far though! im excited to see where she goes

favorite line: that whole rant at the tail end of the series where shes just like. a bunch of people she cared about almost died and she was freaking the fuck out. it hurts....i love her she needs THERAPYY

brotp: she doesnt get to interact with too many characters during the series but in my perfect world i think shed be chill with demonking. dont question my madness i know im right

otp: re the previous answer she doesnt interact with a lot of characters, on this note Especially im hesitant to give a definitive answer but i think if her parallels with flamey were more explored...in my perfect world.........theyd work so spicily

notp: same as zetto but also tacking gs onto this. less out of kizunas ability to see her as a person currently and more that in the future if/when she does end up coming around i do feel like gs would still be hurt by it. theyd be buddies tho:)

random headcanon: with the rpg version of tigerlily i sometimes wish that series kizuna had like...a secret lil roleplay presence. not necessarily on tome itself but she has to cool of SOMEHOW right. she made an anime catgirl avatar i KNOW she has thoughts about that shit

unpopular opinion about them: kizuna is probably the most divisive character ive done for this so far...all i can really say is like...i joke about supporting womens wrongs and stuff but i think introspectively she does have a lot of potential as a character that we dont see a lot of because most of the scenes with her are from zettos perspective. AGAIN tho im reallly liking where a2z is taking her so far i hope i get more scraps

song i associate with them: much like zetto she wasnt someone i had playlists for back in the day however unlike zetto i have the PERFECT one for her. nonexistent meet-cute (idlyam) by vylet pony.... feeling it

favorite picture of them:

#terrain of magical expertise #zetto tome #kizuna tome #cosmo.txt

7 notes · View notes

surplus-of-sarcasm · 7 months

Note

ive tried to write women so many times but have failed to the point theres barely any female characters in my stories. and im very aware this is a flaw in my writing because i dont hang around women often and the only long term contact with a female i have is with my family members i dont know how to write female characters on a personal level because i can never relate to them. this sucks ass but correct me if im wrong i think its better to not write female characters at all than write a shitty possibly offensive one even if i dont realize it

Hi.

Okay, here's my take on what you're saying. I know for a fact that the most difficult things to write are things/situations/environments we know so little about. And it's even harder to get it right when it's a more sensitive thing, if yk what I mean. A huge perspective shift like this is definitely a challenge because men and women are quite different.

Here's the thing. I'm not trying to pressure you into writing them, but I'm telling you that even if you have problems with them now, doesn't mean you have to give up on writing them completely. If not writing them at all is your final decision, then that's still okay, still your call in the end, but if you do want to write them, it's very possible.

I know I write both male and female characters, but the first time I ever officially wrote smth that wasn't for school, it was with a female protag because ultimately, I see the world from the eyes of a woman. When I decided to write a male character for a more serious project, I realised I needed to research it. And lemme tell you that again, not every piece of advice in a writing help article is always applicable. It's largely based on the author's own personal experiences. They're more like tips than rules you must adhere to.

Please note that I've spent considerable time around men I'm close to in my family, I had male classmates and currently have a friend who's a guy, so that definitely helps. And it's completely understandable that you haven't spent enough time around women to grasp more about them Ig. My male characters are not exactly copy-paste of these men/boys either, but some of their traits and mannerisms may be connected.

And you not relating to them is completely okay. I'm not very likely to relate to parts of my male character's life that come with him being a man, but what I can relate to is what makes him human. There is definitely an overlap in several traits between men and women. For example, the way I would feel angry abt smth would be different from how a guy Ik would feel angry about the same thing. The key is simply to avoid bad cliches.

Again, I'm not trying to get you to write them if you really don't want to. Forcing yourself to write smth you don't want to definitely won't help, and won't create good pieces of writing. But just in case you wish to in the future, you can practice and research and test it out, and fun fact, part of it involves a little bit of winging it. I've done this for like genres/ideas I haven't tried before, and surprisingly it actually works. But, tbf, it's a lot more difficult when the issue at hand is the opposite gender.

And answering your last question, while it doesn't mean you must give up completely and you will never be able to do it, I can agree that no representation is better than a poorly represented character. Though, there is a chance you might be too harsh on yourself, since Idk exactly what any female characters you've written are like.

And about my reblog on that post abt writing women, Ig it was more aimed at people who've never tried or misrepresent women by applying a crap ton of harmful stereotypes to them. You seem to have made a genuine effort, so that's a pretty good thing.

Sorry for the long post, and thank you for the ask.

#the little gremlin answers #ask #not writing #natalia.txt

2 notes · View notes

theflyingkipper · 2 years

Note

tell me everything about your interpretations of real life locomotives

i just think they're neat

hello I am so sorry for making you wait months for an answer on this, I hope this is good!!

So I do have some locomotives from real life as part of my headcanons for TTTE characters (for example, Onslaught, Glory, and Greyhound are part of my D10 lore- and in my headcanon Diesel 10 is warship D810 “Cockade”)

But there are a few that don’t exactly relate to TTTE. I’ll be talking specifically about how I characterize them, with some links to past artwork I’ve done and any other informative links

Santa Fe 2926 (or “Santi”)

(2926 is the only one I’ve given a name that’s different from its running number so far, since shes the only one ive officially made into an OC)

Santi had a very short working life when she was still in service, and spent decades as a static display in a park. Oddly enough, shes not so grouchy as most display engines tend to become. I like to think she was in limbo for the most part while on display, kind of like Duke being buried in the shed. (Or like Captain America getting frozen for 75 years) When she woke up during the beginning of her restoration in the early 2000s, she was unaware of how much time had passed- which was very disorienting. Fortunately she’s had the restoration team catch her up on the last 60 years of human history.

Santi as of writing this post hasn’t been on any excursions yet as far as I know, and is still cooped up in the yard. I think she keeps an audio log of how she’s slowly going crazy in there.

“Day 325 - the restoration team fixed my whistle! Its a shame I have no one of my own kind to scream at with it!”

I think Santi and R&N 2102 are pen pals. preserved 4-8-4 besties for life ❤️🚂

they narrate what they want written out loud to their engineers, they both sign off with 0000-00000000-0000, their shared wheel arrangement in text.

Denver and Rio Grande K36s

(I want to give them names, and they’d probably all start with the same letter)

9 out of 10 of the K36s are preserved, the 5th one got scrapped. In reality, the group is split across the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad and the Durango & Silverton, but for the sake of this interpretation they’re all together

I found out about the K36s through a video by History in the Dark, he has a series of videos of “10 of the best trains ever”. I cant find the exact episode :(

Imagine the Dieseasel but there’s NINE of bill and ben instead of two. Though they aren’t as mischievous, they’re definitely just as irritating. They’re sort of a strange hive mind of little engines, akin to Ariel’s sisters in the Little Mermaid. Any time something spectacular happens on their railway, they find some way to spiritually communicate the happening to dear #485, their sibling who fell in a turntable and had to be scrapped- her damage was too severe. Though 485 was very much like the rest of them, she sort of becomes their saint- who they leave offerings of coal and water for in her old shed berth like its a medieval icon. Any time one of them misbehaves, one of their siblings is sure to tell them that 485 would be ashamed and she is not smiling on them right now.

Although this strays from their real life history quite a bit (and their gauge, which is 3ft), I think it would be hilarious if Thomas met them in a RWS-ified BWBA. He comes to their little railway and they all go front over wheels about their strange visitor. I also think the dynamic between them would be interesting, since the K36s are 9 out of their original 10, and Thomas is 1 out of the original 10 E2s. However, It’d probably take a while to get to that point in conversation with how supremely creeped out Thomas is by the K36s slightly cultish practices

Also, they’d probably chase him out of their little railway with pitchforks and acetylene torches if he brought up anything about turntables. They’re a bit of a touchy subject .

NKP 765

the 765 isn’t hard to find videos of XD Since shes the pride of the Nickel Plate Road and not converted to burn oil like lots of other large preserved engines, she takes pride in her unique status. I like to think she has the attitude of a great aunt or grandma with a gritty sense of humor and a laugh that could shake the walls. She does get puffed up in the smokebox, though, and has a hard time admitting she’s wrong. She has a bit of a parental relationship with the diesels on her railway, some of whom call her “granny”, and other endearments relating to her age.

New Zealand V Class

in a very different vein than everyone else, the V class all met the absolutely horrifying fate of being BURIED IN MUD

in my interpretation of them, The V Class have all become eldritch horror abominations, and local engines have kept their ghost stories alive and well. (usually taking the form of wayward vengeful spectres that like to make themselves known in uncomfortable places)

I had an idea where the V class emerges as one giant metal monster festooned with river sediment and garbage and terrorizes the locals but I don’t know enough about New Zealand or its railways to make an effective story.

#real life railway #santi (oc)#nkp 765 #d&rgw k36 #nzr v class #ttte oc #asks #kips cant shut up #santa fe 2926

32 notes · View notes

tiredassmage · 9 months

Text

800 years later, finally settling in for @kemendin mentioned me for an AO3 by stats thing, SO! Here goes <3

Most Hits: before the new dawn, one of two fics I wrote for Far Cry 5 back in uhhhh 2019? I'm actually still immensely proud of both of these. BTND in particular is a rewrite of the end of the game to give my poor Deputy and the companions a bit of a softer end, and was ultimately a part of a larger hc string of events that was meant to set up Alastar & Joey for an appearance in the ~sequel, Far Cry: New Dawn which, perhaps a bit to my shame, lmao, is still a game I need to finish uhhh.. 4 years later. oops?

the second fic for FC5 is, fun fact, my second highest in hits.

for exclusively SWTOR however, that honor goes to answer together, not to my surprise, lol. a short spin around the quinncident with one of my f!warriors and, of course, our beloved quinn.

Most Kudos: another close race between before the new dawn (27) and answer together (26).

Most Comments: sksk gently pushes answer together under the rug because it'd take this one, too, but uhhh second place goes to take me, which is. special in my heart and probably one I'd like to hold up like simba for more attention, if I could chose one, hehe! it sees tyr try to grapple with some of the implications of having survived the destruction of marr's fleet and now being saddle with the alliance, all with theron at his side, of course.

Most Bookmarks: I'll give you one guess. so this list is not literally several entries of the same, the second place of this one is overcoming us, an entry of rhystyl and savosta's unexpected alliance turned friendship, circa the coalition of yavin iv. it's one of the earliest moments savosta seeks advice from rhyst after they grew unexpectedly close battling the revanites and the implications of the emperor's plans together on rishi.

Most Words: wweeee! variety! i'm still going to give the top two though skfnslfd. technical top spot goes to when the sirens call our names (3,178), a brief exploration of iokath because my one pain in life of tyr siding with the republic on iokath and being sent back to spy on the empire later is where the fuck do they put quinn after this, give him back. this needs a bit of a rework in my head though, so for now, i've kind of cut it out of canon.

second place then is sacrifice (3,165), another entry for savosta and rhyst focused around the events of asylum in kotfe: taking flight.

also the technical champion is a fic i wrote eons ago for a pixel horse game which is still probably my favorite work i did for that fandom but do not perceive me lmaooo

Fewest Words: lovedrunk and other ramblings; a single prompt fill for uhh kinktober one year. this was the only one i finished and it will probably remain that way, lmao. i very rarely write bedroom material (awkward aces club), but! this one i loved enough. it's for astor & eden (@fatewalker-phoenix), who ofc deserve all nice things. so of course the prompt was body worship.

i have... no idea which friends have and haven't been tagged/done this at this point so!!! ao3 writer friends i am perceiving you. if you want. eyes emoji and heart emojis and etc etc etc

#dot talk #ao3 stats tag

3 notes · View notes

corner-stories · 6 months

Text

new threads

Pieter Cross. Michael Holt. Late-Nights. Super Suits. Cutting-Edge, Ultra-Thin Armor. 1389 words. (ao3.)

The contents of Mister Terrific’s workshop were as ever changing as the tourists visiting the Statue of Liberty.

Tinkering and toying with items was simply in Michael’s nature. He was a firm believer in the notion that a creator’s work was never truly done, and thus every invention and gadget he had made were versions away from their initial prototype.

And for reference, his T-Spheres and T-Mask were currently in their twentieth and fourteenth iterations.

Michael had spent the last few hours in his workshop meticulously tinkering with a uniform, one that didn’t belong to him yet was in dire need of an upgrade. In contrast to his usual jacket and mask, the suit on his workbench included a black cowl and a pair of goggles uniquely designed to allow a certain person to see under normal lighting.

With a steady hand, Michael adjusted the high-density, impact-resistant thermoplastic sheeting on the torso of the suit, making sure that it was in the ideal position to protect the vital organs. Meanwhile, the actual wearer of the garment was testing out a previous version in the only way he could.

It was times like these where Michael was thankful for the random load-bearing beam in his workshop. It allowed him to hang a pair of gymnastics rings from the ceiling, allowing his test subject to test the limits of his mobility and strength when donning the new threads.

As Michael adjusted the kevlar by the collar of the suit, Pieter A. Cross was literally hanging from the ceiling. With a false grip secured around the wooden rings, Pieter effortlessly pulled himself into a muscle-up, then held himself in a support hold as he kept his legs straight and raised them upwards into a pike hang. Had he been half the gymnast he was in his youth, then perhaps he would have been brave enough to lower himself into an iron cross.

When Michael glanced up, he couldn’t help but grin. “Showing off, are we?”

Pieter’s usually frowny face softened into something more neutral, which was pretty much a smile from someone as stoic and humorless as him.

“I’m flattered,” he responded in a voice that was slightly warmer than his usual monotone.

The Doctor leaned forward, keeping his back and legs parallel to the floor as much as he could. He made sure to spread his legs apart, forming a straddle maltese and attempting to hold it for as long as he could.

Pieter’s thirty-nine-year-old muscles and joints surprised him, as despite the wear and tear they faced on a daily basis they still managed to keep him stabilized above the floor. Even the chronic aches in his left elbow were being nice to him for once.

Eventually, Pieter finished testing the mobility of the Doctor Mid-Nite Suit V5.5 by returning to a support hold, then slowly lowering himself back to the floor.

Michael remained sitting at his workbench, but turned his head towards his friend. “So how does that one feel? Can you move your shoulders better?”

“A bit more,” answered Pieter. As he walked over, he moved his right arm in a circle, a movement that seemed to flow effortlessly with the new flexibility of the suit. “Still feels like wearing a mattress though.”

“But a comfortable mattress?”

Pieter shrugged. “I suppose so.”

As Michael put the finishing touches on the Doctor Mid-Nite Suit V5.6, Pieter looked over to an older version of the garment that had been placed on a mannequin. Curiously, he touched the cape, which was made of a material of Michael’s own creation.

On top of creating a cutting-edge, ultra-thin clothing that could rival Level IV body armor, Michael had apparently created an exceedingly light fabric that could provide one all the stealth benefits of a cape, but without the weight or drag. He even rigged the cape to detach from the suit after a certain amount of pressure, which would be useful in the event of unwanted snags.

Obviously, Pieter was quite thankful for all the effort his best friend was putting into his new suits. Making sure that the JSA’s on-site medic was protected and padded was a fairly smart move, afterall.

But considering the fact Michael had been dressing him up like a Ken Doll into the early wee hours of the morning, it was fair to say that Mister Terrific’s enthusiasm for playing the role of tailor was a bit… excessive.

“Okay, I got one more for you,” Michael soon said, garnering an exasperated sigh from Pieter.

The allegations that neither Doctor Mid-Nite nor Mister Terrific actually slept weren’t allegations, they were hard truths.

Pieter pushed up his goggles briefly to rub his tired eyes. Once he pulled them back on, he saw Michael standing from his workbench and holding up the latest version of the Mid-Nite suit. At this time of night, it was hard for Pieter to keep telling the differences between every iteration of the garment, but in his limited vision he could tell that the current suit was slightly darker than the rest.

“I’m sure it’ll feel the same as the last,” Pieter muttered.

“Not quite — see, I made some alterations that should fix the chafing around the neck,” Michael explained, gesturing towards the torso of the suit. “Plus, I’ve eased up on the armor around the joints for extra mobility. I’m hoping that a ‘move more, get hit less’ philosophy will lead to ideal results.”

It was fortunate that Pieter felt close enough to Michael to never mask his true feeling, which meant that the additional exhale of despair he let out was not met negatively.

It was also fortunate that Michael was quite good at reading people — Pieter in particular — and was able to acknowledge that ungodliness of designing super suits until three in the morning.

“This is the last one, I promise,” Michael assured. “Please?”

Pieter noticed the same sense of excitement in Michael’s eyes. Perhaps it had been far too long since Mister Terrific got a chance to toy and tinker.

With that in mind, Pieter nodded his head and grabbed the suit from his best friend’s hand.

“Just for you, Michael,” the Doctor spoke, managing a very subdued half-smile. At this time of night, it was hard for him to muster anything more.

Michael nodded along, and keeping up with his end of the deal he went back to his work bench and put away his tools. A clean workspace was a happy workspace, afterall.

While his best friend meticulously organized every tool into its designated toolbox, Pieter began the lengthy process of disassembling the new Mid-Nite suit. In contrast to the simple jacket and shirt of Mister Terrific’s threads, the state-of-the-art armor and padding of the garment was made out of several pieces that had to be removed in a very particular order. It seemed that ease of application was another kink that Michael needed to iron out.

After removing the gauntlets and belt, Pieter undid the fastenings around the shoulder, which helped loosened the chest plate secured to his torso. After the several pieces of cutting-edge thermoplastic were removed, the Doctor was left with the final layer, which still consisted of a shirt and pants made of impact-resistant foam and slash-resistant kevlar.

Hopefully Michael got a kick out of the impressive hopping dance Pieter had to perform to get his legs out of the suit’s pants.

Pieter was heaving by the time he put the suit pieces off of him, then placed them onto the table in the middle of the workshop. It was moments like this where he regretted the choice to don compression wear underneath his usual work clothes. It didn’t help that some versions of the suit made him truly understand the phrase “10lb ham in a 5lb can.”

Pieter wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead as he walked to Michael’s workbench, where he grabbed the final version of Doctor Mid-Nite’s new suit. At least it felt slightly lighter than the last.

“On another note, I’m really hoping this one breathes better…” Pieter muttered.

Whether it be because it was so ungodly late, or because he was so wrapped up in everything-proofing the suit that he overlooked such a basic detail, Michael let out an awkward chuckle.

“Oh yeah, that’s a good idea.”

#Pieter Cross #Michael Holt #Mister Terrific #Doctor Mid-Nite #JSA #Mister Mid #it's always fun to remember that Michael has a softer side #he's more chill with Pieter #bc they be buddies

1 note · View note

wtfevenami · 9 months

Text

Tw sui¢ide

August 20th will be one year later. It’s been almost a full fucking year and I still want to kill myself, I still want to starve myself, and I still can’t remember over half my fucking life. Why couldn’t I keep it down that time? Every other time I was fine and just went to sleep, but of course when I’ve done the math to make sure it’ll kill two of me, I throw up.

It’s been a year of closing my eyes and being back on the floor. It’s been a year of refusing to take cough medicine because I’m afraid I’ll relapse. It’s been a year of avoiding sugary artificial orange and grape flavors. It’s been a year since I could eat my favorite soup because the pasta in it is the same size as those pills. It’s been a year of trying to cut deep enough that I bleed out. It’s been a year of swallowing things that could kill me just because there’s a chance it might work. It’s been a year since I’ve been able to drink ginger ale because that’s what my mom gave me when she thought I had the flu. It’s been a year since I hurt the person I love the most.

I was unconscious most of the day after, only awake for about 30 minutes total. I remember texting him because I knew he would be worried when I didn’t show up at school on Monday. I had made the mistake of telling him what I was doing when he asked on Friday. He tried to talk me out of it, and I let him believe that he had. But the pills were already at home in my dresser, so the next day would be my last. It took me 30 minutes to type a simple “I won’t be there tomorrow but I’m alive unfortunately”. He responded within seconds and immediately started asking questions. He tried to call me I think but I couldn’t move to answer, and even if I had I wouldn’t have been able to speak.

There’s only a few things from Sunday that I remember, but I distinctly remember him saying he was confused about something I had said (or tried to say, to be more accurate) and I was just thinking “you think you’re confused? I should be dead right now” and laughing to myself.

The next day I was home alone for a bit while my grandpa picked my sister up from school, and while he was gone I ventured out of my room for the first time all day. I went to the garage to get a bottle of water and I tripped and fell on my way back inside. I bruised my arm pretty badly but my skin was so pale and grayish that it wasn’t noticeable.

I went into my sister’s room to get a book that I read, though I don’t know what it was. I went back to my room and relocked the door. I sat up in my bed reading and took 3 sips from the water. At some point I realized the bottom of my foot was wet, and when I checked the carpet was still moist where I had thrown up to nights prior. I don’t remember what it looked like, mostly because I didn’t have my glasses on and the dehydration was making everything look granulated, but I know that I sat there staring at it for a few minutes.

When he got out of school my friend texted me with an ultimatum, one I wish I never agreed to: tell someone or he would. I typed okay and sent it, but after I got out of the hospital and checked the time stamps I saw that it had been 35 minutes before I sent it.

The rest of Monday as far as I remember was me sleeping in the ER waiting room, getting an ekg, and getting my blood drawn before passing out in the hospital bed. However, when I woke up I had an IV in. I don’t remember having it put in, or the dozens of vital checks and blood draws that I apparently had every hour. I just remember hearing my parents telling the doctor that they couldn’t take me to a specific hospital.

The doctor asked me what I wanted to do and I just stared at her until I either started crying or passed out, I’m honestly not sure which.

The next day on Tuesday was the first time I had eaten in 3 days. I had Chick-fil-A. I ate six nuggets with no sauce and drank water the hospital gave me. Then they came to transport me. They strapped me onto the stretcher with more restraints than the normal ones have. There wasn’t just the waist and side rails, there were ones that made an x over my chest, some that went over my knees, over my ankles, and before they strapped me in they told me to cross my arms.

The psych ward was the worst experience I’ve ever had. I don’t remember much except that I didn’t eat or sleep much. I only ate lunch and dinner because they were required but I never ate it all. I always said no to snacks and I only ate something in the morning my last day there. A packet of peanuts. The only reason I got out as fast as I did was because I was in more distress than when I came in and agreed to do a week at the php.

Then I had to make the excuses. Why were you gone? What were you sick with? You didn’t need to be quarantined that long.

And then the excuse of covid backfired when I actually got covid a week later.

So yeah there’s all that trauma for the void. Sorry but I don’t see my therapist again for a while and the anniversary effect is real and it’s killing me.

#vent post #personal vent #tw sui attempt #tw cvt #tw sh #tw addiction #tw sh cvt #tw overdose

1 note · View note

kimmyiewrites · 2 years

Text

Close to Me ~ Chpt 21

Catch Up Masterlist AO3

After they ate cake, Rose and Kat headed into the main control area of the Tantive IV. Leia told them that all of the old holos should still be there despite anything the Empire could have done to the ship. So, the two friends set about fixing things since instead of wiping the control center of the information saved, the Empire decided to break the screens and paneling protecting the hardware system.

The pair worked in silence, mostly. Both would hum whatever song randomly would pop in their heads from time to time or even talk to themselves as they worked on something particularly puzzling or frustrating. They had managed to remove all the paneling when Connix came in. “The General requested you both to join her for an update. General Calrissian sent a message saying that the team just left and were trying to dodge the First Order.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant. We’ll be there shortly.” Kat smiled, dismissing the other woman.

Just as Rose and Kat arrived at Leia’s side, Snap came up to the three women. “General, Colonel, Lieutenant.” He said in greeting. “We’re getting reports of a raid at the Festival of Ancestors.”

All three women practically sighed together. “This mission is everything. We cannot fail.” Leia said.

“Any word from Poe or Rey?” Kat asked.

“Falcon’s not responding.” He said, fearful of what that could mean.

Rose looked towards Kat, watching as her friend’s face fell before rolling her eyes. “Do you have to say it like that?”

Snap looked to Rose, defensive. Rose might be a lieutenant now but he was used to informing Kat and Leia for a lot longer than she had an official title. “Like what?”

“Do me a personal favor?” Leia asked. “Be optimistic.”

Snap nodded. “Yes ma’am.” He continued to nod as he tried to think of a way to sound optimistic with the not so great news. “Uh, this is, this is terrific. You’re not gonna believe how well this is gonna turn out.”

The three women looked at him in various degrees of disbelief. Rose, fed up, sighed, and walked away while shaking her head.

“Hey, Wexley?” Kat asked, interrupting him.

“Yeah, Colonel?”

“Why don’t you go find Kare and ask her to help you with that optimism.” She gave him a bit of a pointed stare before following after Rose.

He just looked to Leia, who gave a small shrug. “It could use a little work. Thank you, Captain.”

Kat found Rose already back at work, fixing the wiring under one of the desks. “They probably haven’t made it back to the Falcon yet and honestly I don’t think Poe would even let them go back to the Falcon if the First Order is after them.”

Rose looked over to her friend, incredulous. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m just trying to offer up a different solution than whatever’s going through your head right now.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Well, maybe work on your delivery a little bit. It wasn’t very cheerful.”

Kat sat down next to Rose. “You know comfort isn’t exactly my strong suit, especially when I’m running a mission.” She sighed. “They are fine though. I do believe that.”

Rose smiled. “That’s better. Now help me with this wiring? It looked like at least someone was smart enough to try and detach things while everyone was going ballistic in here.”

They had barely gotten back to work when Kat’s commlink began to ring. She quickly put a hold on the wires and moved to sit on one of the jump seats in the room. Hope filled her chest as she answered. “Poe? Please tell me you have good news.”

Poe let out a heavy sigh. Finn, Rey, BB-8, and C-3PO were all in the back of Ochi’s ship while he remained in the cockpit to call Kat to give her an update. Things on Pasaana were a complete failure, not to mention he had to tell her about yet another loss to her family. “It’s not the greatest, Kat.”

“I really don’t like the sound of that. Are you all okay?”

“Mostly.” He sighed once more. “Listen, Kat, we’ve had a loss.”

Rose whipped her head around to face her friend, worry written all over it. “Finn okay?” She called out so she could be heard.

“Yeah, Finn’s fine. It was Chewie. He was taken by the First Order and Rey tried to bring the transporter back by the Force but Ren started to pull on it too until it became too much of a strain on Rey and it blew up.”

The moment he said the Wookiee’s name, Kat’s heart dropped but as he continued to tell what happened, she started to hold back tears. “No,” she gasped out. “No, I don’t believe it. He can’t be gone.”

“I’m so sorry, Kat.” He leaned forward, shoulders slouched over with the added weight of yet another loss. He pinched the bridge of his nose, giving her some space to grieve before moving on with the update: there was currently no plan because the one thing they had needed to continue had been lost with Chewbacca.

She sniffled, trying to reign in her emotions for the time being so she could help plan their next move. They could still lean on Lando. They could go back with the First Order now gone.

At the sound of her sniffling, Poe’s head popped back up. He hated that he wasn’t there to physically comfort her. “Hey, hey, no crying while I’m not there. I can’t wipe ‘em away if I’m not there.”

She let out a sound that was mixed between crying and laughing. “Does this mean you’re coming back to base?” Maybe that would be better. They could regroup then head back out. If only they weren’t on a time crunch.

“No.” He shook his head, hating that had to be his answer. They couldn’t return, not now. It would take up too much time. “Right now we’re hiding out in an asteroid belt to wait out the First Order. We ran into Lando Calrissian though and he was helpful so maybe we’ll head back and talk to him once the coast is clear. Cause we found this dagger that had the location of the Wayfinder on it but even though C-3PO was able to read it, they can’t translate Sith. Something about being against protocol so maybe there’s something to be done there. Oh! And did you know that stormtroopers can fly now?” He said, trying to make her smile at least a little.

“They fly now?” She asked in disbelief.

Poe chuckled a bit at the sense of deja vu. “Yeah, they fly now. Jetpacks and everything. How’re things on your end?”

“Well,” Kat let out a small huff, “Rose and I have been working on these memory banks of sorts to try and see if there’s anything useful on it since the Tantive IV was kind of a big deal before Vader took it out of commission. Leia said there should be plenty of old holos on here with information stolen by our parents, essentially.”

“Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for ya.”

She laughed a bit. “Yeah, sure is.” Silence fell over them, not really wanting to say goodbye but knowing they both needed to return to what they were doing. “I think going back to see Lando would be the best plan right now unless you find some other way to get Threepio to translate what was on that dagger. Just be careful going back. They probably still left a few guards there to patrol the festival.”

“You got it. I’ll talk to you soon, Kat, and hopefully with some better news.”

“May the force be with you.”

He repeated the sentiment before the connection ended. Kat set the commlink to the side and soon she had her arms full of Rose. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”

“I just can’t believe he’s gone too.” She began to cry again.

“This might sound a little crazy but hasn’t Leia felt all of the deaths from your family so far? So if she hasn’t appeared yet, then maybe that could mean he’s not really.” Rose tried to comfort.

Kat gave her friend a watery smile. “Thanks, Rose, but to be honest, I’m not entirely sure. After all, she could be staying away right now to save me from any more bad news. I should probably go and find her actually, give an update.”

“Why don’t we finish this first? See if we can’t find some good news to go along with it?”

She nodded. “Alright, let’s see if we can’t find those specs.”

Kat and Rose got a few of the consoles running again but there were far too many files to sort through. So they stopped working on the consoles and began sifting through the files, organizing things as best they could, sending the specs for any of the old Empire ships to their current command center.

When the commlink began ringing, they were about halfway through. Kat sighed in relief, grateful for the break. “I’m gonna go get us some food. I’ll be back.” Rose said, using it as time for a break for herself.

Kat nodded and answered the commlink. “Where are you? It’s been far too long since your last update.”

“We’re on Endor. That’s where the blade led us.” Poe said, letting out a huff of frustration as he worked on another spot that the Falcon needed fixing after their crash landing. Rey went off on her own. He and Finn got into an argument. This whole thing was not going how he had hoped. As he worked he couldn’t help but repeat Finn’s words and his own wish of Kat actually being there instead of miles away. Then he realized it had been a while since his last update so he figured while everyone else seemed to be set on doing their own thing, he would check in while he worked.

“You alright?”

Poe let out a sigh. He really shouldn’t be surprised that Kat picked up on his frustration. “Not exactly. Rey just went out to the Death Star wreck by herself with extremely dangerous waters. Finn wants to go after her but we can’t at the moment because the Falcon isn’t in the best shape at the moment and apparently he and Leia know what Rey’s going through but no one wants to seem to inform me of what’s going on so here I am fixing the Falcon, alone, because no one wants to listen to me.” Maybe he called more to vent than to update. If she went with them then maybe this wouldn’t have gone sideways.

Kat sat, blinking for a few moments as she processed through his angry rant. Rey and Finn’s predicament was interesting, something Leia could probably shed light on later. What she really wanted though was to be able to comfort him more than with just her words but they would have to do. “Well, it sounds like emotions are high everywhere, which is understandable because this mission holds a lot of weight.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“I wasn’t done yet.” She glared at the commlink in her hand, hoping he could feel it from where he was. “As I was saying there’s a lot of stress and you’ve got yourself a rogue agent. It sounds like you need to get to the Death Star wreck. So what can you do right now, this very moment that will help you reach that goal while also keeping everyone safe?”

“Fix the Falcon,” he said.

“And look at that, you are. It’s going to work out Poe. You’re doing the best with what you got.”

“You really couldn’t have come with us? I’m pretty sure they would listen to you.”

“This is a first for everyone. I wasn’t able to plan out every detail and this isn’t one of your standard missions. You’re doing fine, Poe. Everything that I would’ve done. Well, from what I’ve heard so far. You got the Falcon back? Start there because you owe me an update, Commander.”

Poe chuckled, grateful for Kat’s words. They still didn’t dull the ache of wanting her there beside him, however. Their conversation would just have to be enough. “Yeah, it was on Ren’s Destroyer. We snuck on after we wiped Threepio’s memory on Kijimi so we could learn the location of the Wayfinder.” He paused, waiting for her reaction to that news. When all he got was okay, he was a little shocked.

“You’re not gonna ask about Kijimi? Or freak out about Threepio? I mean I’m kind of oh and two with watching out for your family members but good news, Chewie is actually alive and we saved him from the Destroyer too.”

“Artoo’s got a memory back up for him so it can be restored but you should have definitely led with Chewie’s alive.” Kat grinned, relieved that her uncle was in fact alive. “And is there a particular reason why I should be worried about Kijimi? Although I guess I am curious as to why? Was that the only way to get Threepio to translate?”

“No. There’s not a reason you should be worried about Kijimi.” He briefly wondered if Kat knew the dealings of the planet and if she would make any assumptions. “I have some contacts there and that’s how we were able to wipe Threepio’s memory. Wiping his memory was the only way to get him to read it. Apparently, it was against his original protocol.”

While Finn had teased him about his seeming spice runner past, his friend brought up a good point about Kat knowing. He wondered if she had known or what she would do if she found out. It was before he was officially a part of the Resistance. He went undercover for the New Republic Defense Fleet near the beginning of the cold war. Leia was the one that called him away, recruiting him for the Resistance and leaving him with some unfinished business on the planet. So maybe he was a little more concerned about Kat finding out about Zorii.

“Poe, we all have some shady contacts. My main contact from Naboo’s home planet is the same one as Count Dooku.”

Well, her reaction seemed promising. He’d save his confession of sorts for later though when they were face to face. “And here I thought you were gonna bring up Ren. Oh! Speaking of the First Order. You’ll never guess who was the spy.”

Kat rolled her eyes but played along with the same amount of enthusiasm. “Who?”

“General kriffing Hux. Who woulda thought?”

This time Kat laughed. “No way! Him?!”

“Yup. He saved us from a firing squad and took us to the Falcon.”

“He what?!”

Poe winced at the volume in which she yelled. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that. “Yeah, Chewie, Finn, and I got caught, they were gonna kill us, and uh, before that I may have gotten shot. I’m fine though, really. Just my arm. Probably gonna scar but other than that, totally fine.”

“Poe!”

“The plan is to not have any more mishaps. We just gotta get Rey back from her solo mission.”

“It better!”

“So, how are things going on your end?” He asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to more neutral territory.

Kat let out a huff, not happy about all of this latest development. “We’ve got three units running. We’re about halfway through all the files when you called so I’m having Connix and her team analyze them until we can get to them.”

“I’m glad to hear yours is going far easier. I should probably let you go so I can fix things here and hopefully stop Finn from doing something too stupid like go after Rey himself.” Poe then groaned in realization. “Yeah, I’m going to let you go. Finn’s probably gone after Rey himself. I’ll call with an update soon.”

With that, the connection ended and Kat let out a heavy sigh. She really hoped that all would be well soon. Now to get back to these files while she waited on Rose to return with food.

#poe dameron fic #star wars fic #poe dameron fanfic #star wars fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #close to me #poe x kat #kim writes things #this is my queue song

1 note · View note

darling-i-read-it · 2 years

Text

Five Years

Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: angst but has a happy end note

Author’s Note: glad you’re all going through a matt brainrot enjoy this

Requested: by anon, I SAW THAT UR REQUESTS WERE OPEN AND IVE HAD THIS THOUGHT FOR LIKE A FEW DAYS NOW SO someyhing like matt gets blipped leaving u, his gf, absolutely heartbroken but u eventually move on bUT when he’s blipped back he’s devastated to see that you’ve moved on and tries everything he can to get you back and a “it always will be you” type ending I HOPE THIS MADE SENSE

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif) (pretty boy)

Matt was sitting on the couch, leaning forward. You sat behind him. He could feel your body heat beside him as you cleaned at his wounds. You were breathing evenly. You had gotten far too used to stitching him up. It barely phased you anymore. Though every time, without fail, you always winced for him right before you did something that might hurt.

“With Fisk in prison I thought you would be able to stay home more. I don’t know, have some ice cream. Listen to music. Like a normal person.”

“You didn’t sign up to date a normal person,” Matt said, focusing on acting like you weren’t hurting him too much. You shook your head a bit, putting your head up against his back. It signified that you were done with your work. “You don’t mind it too much do you?”

“No. I couldn’t otherwise I would break up with you.”

“And you wouldn’t dare.” “Hey I lost you to fake death for far too long. I won’t lose you to something measly like you being stubborn.”

“Just stubborn?”

“Stubborn. Annoying. Determined. Focused. Easy on the eyes.”

“I think I’ve lost you,” he said laughing. You giggled and kissed his shoulder before standing up. “Where are you going?”

“Throwing away all the napkins I just went through. Give me a second.” You got up and he could hear your footsteps evenly walking behind him to the kitchen. He rubbed his face, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes.

Then all of the sudden it was colder. Like a draft had gone through from the windows that never opened. He sat up straighter.

“Y/N?” he called. You didn’t answer. He stood up. He couldn’t hear your footsteps anymore. Something was wrong. What was wrong? Where was your heartbeat? Had you keeled over? No if you had passed out he would still hear you. He would have heard if anyone else came in and took you.

Was the window open? Why was it so cold? He called your name again and then one more time, desperately fighting the fiery blurriness that was not helping his current confusion.

“Did you leave the window open?” he heard someone ask from the direction of the door. He tilted his head, honing in on whatever new voice had just entered. It was a man, though not one that he recognized.

“Yeah. I didn’t think they opened when….I pried them open, got some draft in.” You were carrying the groceries that you had brought in with your boyfriend, Michael. It was still weird for you to bring him around here but the relationship was new enough that you weren’t willing to leave Matt’s apartment for him.

When Matt disappeared from the couch that day five years ago you had been devastated. The world was in chaos. You had lost Matt again. This time you thought there was no getting him back. You waited almost four years until Foggy finally told you to move on.

A part of you waited for Foggy’s permission. He had become your closest friend after Matt’s first encounter with death, it was only fair he was with you the second time round. Michael was nice. You had been going out for a couple months.

You had pretty much settled on the fact you would never find another Matt. You just had to be okay with that.

“Y/N?” You turned the corner and dropped your groceries. You gasped, stumbling back into Michael who grabbed your arm. You were in such shock you didn’t say anything. “Y/N what happened, how did you get outside? Who is this?” You stepped forward.

It was Matt. Shirtless for some reason and you realized that was the exact way you left him.

“Matt?” you whispered, stepping forward. You touched him, still not sure he was real. He grabbed you desperately, so confused as to what’s happening.

“What happened?” he asked you again. You were crying. He felt your arms. You were wearing a jacket. Different clothes. Just a second ago you were in pajamas and now you were in a jacket.

“Matt, you've been dead for five years.”

“This is Matt?” Michael asked. “I thought…” He stepped forward, clearly unable to read a moment. “I’m Michael, Y/N’s boyfriend.” Matt scoffed.

“I’m her boyfriend.” You put your hands up to your mouth, shaking your head.

“You died in the blip. You…” You shook your head. Suddenly your phone started ringing. You picked it up, desperate for something else to bother you right now.

“Are you at Matt’s?” Foggy asked in your ear.

“Yeah. He’s alive. He’s here.”

===

It took you thirty minutes to explain to Matt just what had happened. He still didn’t quite understand when you were done. You kicked Michael out who was already rushing to find out if some of the people he knew were back from the blip too. You sat beside each other, holding his hand tightly.

“I was devastated,” you told him. “I lost you twice. Karen blipped too, it’s just me and Foggy.” You wiped your eyes.

“And so you turned to Michael who smells like cheese?” he asked. You laughed, beyond happy to hear his dry humor again. He was still settling into this new thing that was him being gone for five years.

“You were gone for five years Matt.” He nodded. He understood. He just couldn’t understand how five seconds ago for him he could kiss you and now he couldn’t. “I don’t even like Michael. I mean, he’s nice. He just…isn’t Matt. Isn’t you.” You scooted closer to him. “It’s always going to be you Matt. You could die four more times and it would still be you.”

You put your forehead on his. There it was, he thought. Your skin on his skin. It was warm, blissful. In all this confusion it would always be you to help him.

“Is Matt here?” Foggy asked, bursting through the doors. You and Matt turned around. “Oh man. Oh man.” He rushed over and threw his arms around his friend. “I just saw Karen. She’s doing awful. How are you two? Did you break up with Michael yet?”

“I was getting there,” you said, overjoyed to be in the same room as these two again.

“I didn’t like his voice anyway,” Matt muttered. You just wanted to hold him again. You wanted to spend every day from now on to the end of time by his side.

“I’m going to make us dinner. Foggy call Karen, I wanna see my best drinking buddy.” You kissed Matt’s forehead and he pulled you closer, kissing you. You held him for a moment and smiled.

“These windows open?” Matt asked.

“Yeah I know! I think she tried to throw herself out of one when you disappeared,” Foggy said.

“They’re small windows right?”

“Didn’t stop her.”

You loved him. You would never let him out of your sight again.

Marvel Tag List: @demonchick1, @karasong, @elisaa-shelby, @lov3vivian, @russian-soft-bitch, @alexxavicry, @valentina-luvs-u, @demigirl-with-problems, @chaotic-fangirl-blog, @caswinchester2000, @mads-weasley, @torresbarnes, @gxrlwithluv, @allthingsavenger-y, @navs-bhat , @inas-thing, @secret-obsessions

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagines #marvel imagines

525 notes · View notes

wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

hiii!!! omg please please pleasee do a part two of 3 hearts broken cus it fucking slaps miss girl

part 2 to 3 broken hearts!!! ive been so 🥺 at all the lovely comments+interest pt 1 had so thanku all !

summary: serious serious angst again will tom somehow get it back (unlike looking cos boy is a fool)

warnings: again lots of swearing (im British sorry not sorry) / wayyyy too much tea / slating Dom abit (obvs fictional but idk if I like the guy sorry his opinions are :/) / commitment issues

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

read part 1 here!!!!

That was three days ago now. Three days since you'd spoken to your boyfrien- well, Tom. It wasn't evident what the situation was.

The typical British weather brought with it the most ironic pathetic fallacy you could ever see. The clouds were dark and glooming, firing angry pellets of rain out as hard as they could. When you had pulled up on the roadside, it had just been a light drizzle but synchronised with your anxiety levels rising - so did the rain. When you finally opened up the car door, you threw your hoodie open with a sigh before running up the pathway to the front door.

It was the same burgundy red that you knew so well, but this time instead of just letting yourself in - you stood in the rain used the brass knocker thing twice. To be honest, you were hoping that no one was home - but in that house, it was pretty unlikely. After 30 seconds of getting drenched in the downpour, you were about to let yourself in with the spare key before the door swung open.

"Oh! Er Y/n?"

"Yeh um hi." You had to shout a bit over the sound of what must now be classified as a storm.

"Toms not-"

"I know. Can I come in?" As awkward and stunted as this conversation was, if you didn't get out of the rain asap you would literally end up drowned.

“Oh er yeh-yeh yeh come in.”

Harry stammered as he held the door open, gesturing for you to enter into the tiled hallway. Gratefully, you followed, throwing your sopping wet hood back down and wiping your feet on the floor.

"Sorry for just showing up, but I left some scripts here. My management are on my arse to read them and-"

"And you waited till Tom left for mum and dads?" The fluffy-haired boy has caught you red-handed; there was no defence, so you didn't even try.

Because yes, you knew on a Friday afternoon when Tom was home he would always, like clockwork, go to his parents just to kick back and watch gogglebox with both of them. It was only natural then that you chose Friday afternoon to come and pick up your stuff.

"I've been waiting in my car for half an hour till I saw him leave." Harry half laughed at that, still the two of you standing opposite each other in the hallway. "Um, do you… do you hate me Harry?"

Clearly, he hadn't quite been expecting your question going by the way his eyes almost bugged out his head.

"No, I-I, of course, I don't… look, I'm home alone so you fancy a cuppa?" Not being able to help the small chuckle, you nodded appreciatively, following Harry through the house.

"Your answer to everything is tea."

Harry had prepared the two mugs in silence as you sat at the table waiting patiently - if nervously too. You didn't miss how Harry had still used your favourite mug, having had to dig through the cupboard to find the weird square-shaped thing. Once done, he rounded the kitchen island and placed it in front of you, which you instantly cradled in two hands - for the hope of warming you up.

"You cold?" Obviously, it was pretty evident that sitting in your rain-soaked hoodie was not cosy at all. "Hang on a sec."

The boy sprung up again, returning moments later with a hoodie in hand, one he offered out to you with a little smile. The issue was that him and Tom shared clothes, so the hoodie he was kindly offering to you also had been worn by Tom before. Which made it hurt a little bit to wear. It was better than sitting soaked through though.

"How have you been then?"

"Not the best, to be honest, but uh… how about you?"

"Being with Tom while he's fighting with you? Oh, it's a barrel of laughs. You might've escaped it, but I haven't." He was trying to lighten the mood, and you appreciated it, offering him a half-smile that didn't really meet your eyes.

"Yeh sorry about that."

"Don't apologise; it doesn't sound like it's your fault Y/n."

That surprised you. Tom, especially when he was in moods like he was when you argued, wasn't one to admit when he was wrong. It was usually how the world was against him and how he was so hard done by. Accepting responsibility was something he hadn't said to you yet - but at least, small steps.

"He say that?"

"Pretty much… doesn't seem like he's angry at you, but-but he's still angry."

"At the world?" You rolled your eyes; this seemed to be the same old Tom through and through. Still immature. Still not with the right mindset.

"At himself." Harry countered, slightly entertained, when he saw the flash of surprise in your face as he sipped his drink. "And me… if I dare to so much as breathe this week."

This time you properly laughed, and Harry joined in too before the room fell back to silence - except the noise of the rain hitting the garden patio slats. You swirled the tea round in your mug, feeling the brunette's eyes on you. He'd always been your fake little brother too, since you'd met the Hollands way back 3 and a half years ago. Tom and yourself were barely adults, which meant the twins were still proper children. Harry had always been the one that understood you. Hollands, by nature, loved humans - loved to talk, to chat, to gossip. But sometimes, doing all that socialising got too much for you, as it did for Harry. He was the only one that seemed to understand social exhaustion. So when those moments had hit, you'd kept each other company in silence.

He got you, sometimes in ways your own boyfriend didn't.

"You know why he got so worked up, right?" You shook your head, looking up curiously. "Dad got under his skin on his birthday zoom thing."

Ah, now that did seem to coincide with the start of Tom's more petulant phase. To be fair, Tom had been asking to move in together for near enough a year now - but it was only in the past month it seemed to be the only thing you'd talk about and obviously only three days since the flight back. Dom's birthday barely a week ago, whilst you and Tom were both filming - except Tom had managed to get a day off where you hadn't. So you hadn't heard this conversation.

"What'd he say?"

"Was talking about how he and mum were settling down at Toms age, joked about how you rejected him, said maybe you were holding out for something better."

"Something better?" Harry sighed, leaning forward onto his elbows.

"He'd seen an article just off a trashy tabloid… it named you Hollywood's golden girl or something, said you could have the pick of any person on the planet…"

Of all the people in the world, why is Tom affected by shit journalism? He knows how much bullshit people write. He knows how it's all made up, exaggerated nonsense. And what he should know, completely and totally, is how much you love him. And if he didn't, was that your fault? Had you done something wrong, something to make him doubt you?

Harry seemed to notice the internal dialogue going on in your head, adding to the point. "It wasn't the article though, it was the fact dad said it."

Hmmm.

You and Dom got on; it wasn't like you hated the possible future father in law or whatever. Just…. you had very different outlooks. As much as Tom prided himself on how' grounded his family keeps him' -to you at least, they aren't entirely at sea level either. They'd never really had any particular struggles in life. They were the definition of middle class, and that's about it. They lived in a posh suburb of London, had all their family still around. It was the perfect family.

And whilst you were in no illusions about how privileged your life was now. It hadn't always been. You'd never had the 'nuclear' family. Instead, only your dad and a string of dodgy and fleeting stepmothers while struggling to make ends meet. So you were just always wary of Dom, of his opinions that so often his boys took for gospel. They always seemed pretty sheltered and close-minded.

And yet, Tom was a grown man.

"I get that, I just… Tom should know that we know more about our relationship than his dad. I mean,… have I done something wrong? Made him think I'm not in this for the long haul?"

"No nonono Y/n he's just… well he's an idiot, isn't he? I don't think he properly understands why you're cautious about moving and everything. He's just an idio- "

Harry was cut off for lightly insulting his brother by the sound of the front door opening, both of your heads swivelling towards the source. You then met Harry's eyes in a panic, to which he replied relatively simply.

"Just talk to each other. For my sake." You would've argued if it weren't for the fact you were so focused on Tom's shuffling around in the entrance hallway - back early from his parents.

"Baz? Where you at? I thought I saw Y/n's car and-"

"Kitchen!!!" Before Tom could say anything else, possibly landing himself in more trouble, Harry interrupted as his chair screeched while standing up. And then Tom was just there. Standing in the doorway, his arms dropping limply to his side as he noticed you. Everything about that moment seemed to freeze, when you locked eyes with him for the first time in three days. It didn't go unnoticed, the way his Adams apple bobbed, the way his eyes widen. The boy looked plain and simply terrified.

It was Harry who broke the silence, after giving you a stern look that said 'stay'. The younger Holland boy walked up to Tom and spoke.

"Try actually talking and actually listening about your problems with each other." And then he was gone, down the hallway and up the stairs.

For a few moments, Tom stayed absolutely stationary, now staring at where Harry had been when speaking to the both of you (but mainly Tom). Long enough to put your sense of unease at an all-time high, ready to make a break for it.

"If you don't want to talk, then I can leav-"

"NO!" Apparently snapping out of it, Tom exclaimed loud enough to make you flinch from your seat. "Sorry! I-I just… I wasn't expecting to… you know, to see you."

"Yeh I just uh- just came to pick up some scripts… Harry cornered me with a tea, though; otherwise, I'd be…."

"Baz thinks the whole world could be fixed with tea."

"that's what I said!" You instinctively responded, forgetting the fact you're supposed to be mad at him, and just for a second falling back into your normal flow.

Tom didn't even try to hide his grin in response, until you quickly corrected your face- then he did too. Turning around to put the kettle on for himself. Because right now, he needed to fix his whole world, and he needed all the help he could get. For a period, the only noise was the sound of the kettle boiling, then the teaspoon clinking against the mug as he stirred - until he padded over, taking the seat across from you.

"So."

"It's been a while," Tom stated the bloody obvious.

"You never called."

"Didn't think you'd want me to."

You thought that the early signs weren't all that auspicious. His ability to read a situation once again failing.

"I wanted you to say something."

"Say what?"

"What do you think Tom?" He replied to the sarcastic tone by sucking in a sharp breath, holding it for a second, before slowly exhaling. As if trying to compose himself, take time to think of a response - a mature move for him.

"Well, I think you want me to say sorry? For being so moody and not waiting for you and for upsetting those kids. And thanks too, for covering for me?"

You just hummed. Waiting for him to continue. Because yes, you did deserve all those things. But you also deserved more. An apology for, oh I don't know, saying he didn't think you loved him? It was a wait that never ended, he had nothing more to add.

"Going by your face, I take it I missed something?"

The bloody cheek of it.

"Theres nothing else? Nothing else at all? …" You gave him that chance, the opportunity but all he could respond with was a shake of his head. "You thought I was fine about you saying that I don't love you?" You hadn't intended on raising your voice, but really you hadn't realised you did till after the fact. To blinded by rage at his ignorance.

"You want to talk about this now?"

"When else Tom?" You sighed, realising he perhaps wasn't ready for this conversation. Maybe he needed more time to think things through, have sense talked into him by various wiser family members. Or maybe, he never would be. That was the worst-case scenario. But also… you're most likely prediction.

He shuffled in his seat, clearing his voice but not saying anything. Not a peep.

"I have spent three years of my life with you. I've had countless nights of too little sleep because that was the only time you could facetime. I've exposed my relationship to the world and people's opinions because you didn't want to hide. All I've done is love you. How could you even say that?" There might've been tears in your eyes, yet you were determined to keep them at bay. You needed to have this out, one way or another, to be clear and cohesive and logical. No time to cry.

"Y/n I know that, I…" He sighed, instinctively reaching for your hand, but you were quicker to pull it away. There was hurt in his eyes, but so there should be. "It just sometimes feels like that's it for you. That yeh you love me but you just want to standstill. That this is as much as it'll ever be."

Your emotions were suddenly uncontainable. Your voice croaked as you whispered, "Have I done something wrong?"

"No love, nonono if that's how you feel then that's okay. But it's something I'm not… shit this is hard." He took a pause to take a sip of his drink, your glazed eyes never leaving his. "I don't think I can stand still anymore. And yeh I was pissy and childish the other day because my dad got under my skin about the whole moving in thing… But these past few days, it just has got me thinking. Because I love you, so much."

This time when he reached out to grab your hand, you actually leaned into it yourself. Not because you were giving in, but because this hurt. This hurt so fucking much that you needed something to ground you, or else god knows. Because the way he was speaking, it sounded so finite.

"I love you too."

"I do know, which is…is why this is so hard." At the very least, Tom had conceded that.

The conversation ceased to silence yet again. The room felt so cold; even Tom/Harry's hoodie was doing nothing to keep you from the endless empty cold that seemed to be coming from within.

"When I re-registered my health card last month, and I made you my emergency contact on it. I-I made you my next of kin on everything actually. I didn't think about it twice. And-and this-"You pulled your phone out of your back pocket, immediately pulling up the app onto the open page. "This is my Pinterest board for our baby's nursery theme. I know-" You paused, to quickly wipe your cheeks clear of the tear tracks that may or may not have been there. "I know it's probably a long way away, but I just love the Scandinavian theme." You laughed at yourself, suddenly embarrassed at your blabbering and quickly pulled up a different app. "And this… this was from the other week when I was helping Y/bf/n start her vows." Hands trembling as you turned the phone around for Tom to see again. "She was finding it really tricky so she said, what would you say to Tom on your wedding, so-so I made this list." You only dared to look at him when you were sure he'd be reading through that note.

It was bizarre because he looked… well, he looked happy. Here you were feeling traumatised, showing things that you'd barely even deeped how committed they were - and he was pleased? Feeling the fire burn once again inside of your chest, you quickly swiped the phone away and back into your pocket. Only then did he look up, eyes widening - presumably at quite how psychotic you looked.

"So don't you dare say that I don't want a future with you."

You said it with such force, there was a pause. Tom letting those words sink deep into his brain. The way his expression flickered minutely gave you hope. You thought he got it. You thought he really understood now.

"But why don't you want to move in then?"

There it was again. He knew why. But he didn't get it. And, probably, he never would.

You were about to crash completely. So you ran. As fast as your legs could carry you, not even aware of your chair crashing to the floor in your wake. You ran out of that house and away from him. Away from who you had thought was the love of your life.

?give tom a final chance w one last part?

feedback is always v v appreciated <3

tom taglist : @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08

people i think might be interestd in this (sorry if not just let me know and i'll remove the tag!!!): @obiwanownsmyass @wildxwidow @parkersvogue @coffeewithoutcaffeine @tomhollandlol @thefallenbibliophilequote @clumsymandu @hiraethenthusiast @mannien @abrielleholland @evermorehabit @niallberry @greatpizzascissorstaco @runawayolives @annathesillyfriend @letsgotothemoonlight @lovelybarnes

#tom x reader #tom holland fic #tomholland #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #famous!reader #tom holland x famous!reader #tom holland x actress!reader #harry holland

736 notes · View notes

sturkillerbase · 2 years

Text

It's All Coming Back to Me in Waves

PART V

Summary: Din is touch starved, and there's nothing in the galaxy he wants more than to feel your skin on his. The same applies to you, although none of you could bring yourselves to admit it. And, like you, he'd also like for you to see him. He finds a solution; not entirely what you want, but enough to calm your troubled minds. Or perhaps... it only stirred things more...

Genre: fluff, slow burn - "SO incredibly fluffy you might implode", in the words of the lovely @misspearlssideblog

Song rec: 252, by Gem Club

Warnings: none

Words: 2.5k

A/N: Had to look at a bunch of young Pedro pictures for this one. Absolutely not a complaint.

Intro; Part IV; Part VI

I wish you could see me/I can see you

Present time

Din and Grogu had been with you for a couple weeks now, and every single day you could swear you hadn’t ever been so happy in your life than you were now. Grogu was absolutely adorable, and way smarter than he seemed. “Don’t let his cute face fool you.” Din had warned, and he was right. Every now and then the baby would do something that would have you speechless. But what you couldn’t figure out was how the fruits on your counter kept disappearing. Din told you Grogu had a tendency to steal food when no one was looking, but it still wasn’t clear to you how he could get on top of the counter since he was way too little for that. When Din told you the truth about Grogu, you widened your eyes at him and immediately exclaimed:

“What, like a jedi?? Like Luke Skywalker?!?”

“You know Luke Skywalker?” Din was genuinely surprised.

“Din, everyone’s heard of Luke Skywalker. He literally saved the galaxy, to make it short. He was still around when you and I were flying together back then. I don’t know where he is now though.”

“Oh…” was his only answer.

“You didn’t know him?!”

“No. But… I kind of met him.”

“You met the jedi Luke Skywalker?!?” You nearly yelled, almost not believing in what Din was saying. Perhaps if it had been someone else, you wouldn’t have believed. You grabbed his wrist and pulled him to sit down with you and tell you the whole part of the crazy story that he had so casually not deemed too important to share.

After you learned everything about Grogu, you swore to give your life to protect him from whatever dangers came his way. You were no warrior, nor did you know how to fight properly. But you had heavy tools all over your house and your work shed, and you were absolutely not afraid to use them.

Right now, though, you were helping Din fold his (previously very dirty) laundry. He didn’t have much; most of it had been blown up with the Crest, but you had finally convinced him to buy new clothes for him and Grogu, and now you were taking care of his old ones.

Din could fold them nicely, but he couldn’t use an iron to save his life, so you offered to do that before he’d somehow burn another shirt. And also the fingers he hadn’t burned yet.

As he folded his jumpsuit, a small giggle from you made him look up, at first thinking he was doing something wrong again. But you were actually looking at his cape that you had just finished ironing.

“It’s in a miserable state. I know.” He admitted.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, yes, it is in a miserable state. But I was thinking about the fact that you still have it.” You told him, turning off the iron now that you were done with it. “When you first arrived a few days ago, I noticed that it was the same one that I gave you. But part of me wasn’t so sure, especially because it’s been so long. Now that I’m seeing it up close, I can tell it really is the same cape.” You grinned.

Din blushed a little under the helmet. The cape was in such a poor state he didn’t think you would notice it was still the one you’d given to him; the ends were jagged, the deep color had faded, some bits were torn and others were stretched. Not to mention a patch that had burned off from one of the times he’d used his back jet.

“I couldn’t bring myself to part with it.” He admitted in a low voice, not looking at you, finishing to fold his jumpsuit.

You smiled either way; you knew exactly what he meant. You also still had something he’d given to you a long time ago.

“I have something, too” you said as you rushed up the stairs.

After grabbing it from your nightstand’s drawer, you head back downstairs and walk up to him, holding what seems to be a simple piece of cloth.

“Couldn’t bring myself to part with it either” you confess, holding the little cloth up in your hands for him.

“No way!” He said in contained surprise, picking the piece up from your hands.

It was a sleep mask he had given you around a year after you’d given him his cape. It used to be black, but it was a grey-ish shade now. The hem around the eye area was worn out and had a small tear in it; the band had come undone and was stitched back in place on one side; and the elastic band had a knot on the back, having lost its elasticity a long time ago. He giggled at the state of the mask; it was a perfect match for his destroyed cape.

He hadn’t bought the mask for you so you could sleep better in a darker ambient – that would be a plus. In fact, he had quite the opposite use for it: he wanted you to be able to see him. His Mandalorian vows kept him from showing his face to you or anyone else, but nothing had ever been said about touching his face. And, Maker, was he touch starved.

That was then. Now, he had ten years of starvation built up in him, and the feeling was becoming almost unbearable. Every time your hands brushed; every warmth coming from you when you’d stand too close; every night when he laid on your bed, resting his head on your pillows and covering himself with your sheets; every time he watched you fix whatever it was in your workshop, skin glistening with sweat, the muscles of your arms flexing as you skillfully fixed something back in place; whenever Grogu made you laugh; all the times you’d smile up at him. He felt like taking off his helmet and showering your face and neck with kisses, only to then kiss your lips that seemed to be the only thing capable of putting down his fire.

But he couldn’t.

Or rather,

He was unsure.

After pondering for a while as he watched the sleep mask on his hands, he takes an encouraging breath and carefully slides the mask through your head and over your eyes.

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

11 years ago

You had just arrived home from an afternoon of grocery shopping. Din had his full armor on, as he always did whenever he left your house to somewhere else. Whenever he was around and it was time for shopping, he’d obviously come along, helping to carry the bags on the way back, especially the heavier ones. It was a simple thing, an everyday life task. But it was cute to you, like everything else he did. Well, except fighting and killing. That was… hot. But apart from cute, it was also quite funny: it looked like you had your own madly skilled body guard to watch over you as you bought rice.

Right now, you were in the kitchen, taking the groceries off the bags so you could store them away.

“I, um, bought you something.” He said.

“Oh?” You turned to him.

You did notice when he had suddenly vanished from your side at the market street, only to just as suddenly show back up, making you jump a little when he spoke to you from behind as you picked the best plums. He was incredibly silent for someone his size wearing literal metal clothes.

“Here.” He handed you a folded black piece of fabric. “They didn’t have gift wraps, so, um… yeah.”

“Don’t bother with that.” You reassured him and proceeded to unfold the rather thick fabric; it was a sleep mask. “Oh, this is nice” you ran your fingers through it, feeling how soft it was. “Thank you, Din!” you smiled up at him.

“I- I was thinking, um—” he cleared his throat. “I had this idea—” he was suddenly nervous, and you couldn’t tell why. “Can I?” he pointed at the sleep mask on your hands.

“Uh- yeah. Sure.” You handed it to him, a little confused. He picked it up.

“Here. Excuse me…” he said as he slided the mask over your head, fixing it in place while being careful with your eyes and hair. “There we go.”

“Ooh, pitch black.” You said and waited to see what his next move would be.

You heard something being placed on the countertop followed by a very soft shuffling. Unexpectedly, you felt his bare hands on your wrists, lifting your hands up to around your chest level, softly, and stopping there.

“We’ve—we’ve known each other for about a year and a half now. And I know you very well. The way you look, that is.” You could hear the nervousness in his voice, and you were starting to get anxious too, uncertain of what was going on exactly. But you let him keep talking. “You… Don’t know me. Only bits of me: my hands, my arms. And my ribs, too, from patching them way too many times.” You two shared a soft laugh at that. “What I thought of when I saw that mask, um. Well, you can’t see me. With your eyes. But perhaps you could know me… through your touch. If—if you’d like to, of course…” His voice got lower and lower as he spoke, ending with an unsure, but hopeful whisper.

Nothing had ever been said in his creed about this. The rule was that a Mandalorian could never show his face to a living being, therefore proving their devotion. But touching, feeling… It wasn’t the same as showing, was it? He was unsure, but found logic in his thoughts.

You were surprised, heart rate going faster. Did he really mean what you thought he meant? Yes. Yes, he did. Oh, boy! What now? You wanted it. If that’s what you could have from him, then yes, you wanted all of it. But the same thoughts that occupied Din’s mind filled yours: could you really do it? Was this right? You weren’t seeing his face, but would he end up being kicked out of his creed if anyone ever found out about this? As much as you craved for it, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, hands frozen in place as he held then. You couldn’t form a word either, so you just nodded leisurely.

That was enough for him. You heard a faint relieved sigh, and, slowly, he lifted your hands towards his face. When your fingertips touched his cheeks, he let go of your wrists, so you could feel his face at your own pace and will.

You touched him lightly at first, like he could brake and fall away from your touch if you weren’t careful enough.

You touched his cheekbones first, tracing them, and he watched in silence as you focused your whole attention to the skin of your hands. You noticed how sharp his cheekbones were, and as you lowered your hands to his jawline, you let your fingers finally press properly into his skin, without hurting or being too rough.

You ran your fingers along his jaw, making your way to his chin, building the image of a strong, square shaped face in your mind, his beard barely there, probably shaved this morning. With your thumbs, you traced the curves of his lips, not too thin and not too full, a curved, deep lip bow. You raised your hands to his forehead, and he closed his eyes to focus on your touch, holding his hands firmly on his sides as to not give in and pull you closer. You could feel very fine, barely there lines on his forehead and between his eyebrows; he probably did furrow his brows a lot, as you had imagined. Your fingers traced his thick eyebrows, and, with care, you lowered them to his eyes, feeling just slightly as to not end up hurting him. His eyes were deep set, and his lashes not too long. At last, you traced your index finger down the bridge of his nose. It was tall and curved, a contrast to the sharper features of his face, but just as strong. Finally, you ran your fingers through his hair. It was thin, a bit wavy, not too long, and incredibly soft. So, so soft. You could run your hands through the strands and curl each lock around your fingers for hours.

It all fit him. He was strong, gentle, firm when he needed to be, and soft as he opened up to you. And so were his physical features. Everything matched.

“What’s your hair color?” you whispered, not knowing if you were allowed to ask that or not. You already knew his skin color, and you loved every time you got to see it. And now that you had the chance to build a better image of him in your brain, you couldn’t just let it pass.

“Black.” he whispered back, finally opening his eyes to look at you again, enjoying the feeling of your hands cradling his face.

“And what’s your eye color?”

“Deep brown.” He answered, wishing that he could look at your shiny eyes without the helmet on.

“Any beauty marks?” you wondered.

“Just a small one” he said, taking your right hand and lowering it to the left side on his neck “around here.” You felt the small vibrations on his neck as he spoke.

“You’re beautiful” you finally said, in awe and still whispering. But your compliment was met with a small scoff.

“You can’t really see me to know.” He spoke.

“I don’t need to. Never did.” It was true. He was beautiful to you, no matter what he looked like. But now that you got the chance to see him through your touch, you were more sure than ever.

You spent a few more seconds like that; him watching you, taking in your real colors and every little detail, nothing the visor of his helmet could ever reproduce, big hands over yours. And you, with your hands still on him, the left one ever so slightly caressing the back of his neck, feeling his hot skin against yours, and replaying the memory of your touch on him, picturing him.

At last, he lowered your hands from him, cradled your face, and placed a warm, lasting kiss to your forehead, catching you by surprise.

He smiles at your little reaction to him, but you don’t see it.

You hear metal brush against the surface of the counter, and soon after he reaches for the sleep mask on you, taking it off. You blink a few times, adjusting to the light, and look up at him, helmet back on.

He hands you back the mask, and when he takes his hands away from it, he lifts one of them to your chin, pressing it slightly to close your agape mouth. You hadn’t realized your lips were parted until he did so.

He lets out a small snort and turns around, going back to taking the groceries off the bags.

You turn too, tucking the sleep mask on your pocket and gathering a few items to put away, trying to get yourself back together.

The room is silent, but whatever is swirling all over in your bodies and minds is turbulent and deafening.

If you got this far into my fanfic, please let me know! ☺😊

Taglist:

@scorpio-marionette

@supernaturalgirl20

@misspearlssideblog

@becksxoxo

@eylaudie

@janebby

#the mandalorian #star wars #sw #din djarin #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #tbobf #slow burn #the mandalorian fanfiction #grogu #pedro pascal #sturkillerbase #sturkiller writes #it's all coming back to me in waves

86 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Dying Starlight

A/n: i dont think an audience for this exists?? ik it’s not shadow and bone related, but ive been reading red queen and i wanted to try writing maven and ive been playing with this idea. umm...on the off-chance that there is an audience for this i do think of this as more of a series but i’ll probably end up deleting this lol

(Series?) Summary: reader is a childhood friend of Mare’s who isn’t officially part of the Scarlet Guard but gets captured by Maven. As a prisoner, she feels like her mind is being messed with as she begins to see a more human side of Maven. The new King tells himself the only thing he sees in her is that she’s a way to get to Mare, but something about her genuiness is infectious.

Irony twists things. Right now, the irony that my last thoughts might be about how I wish I had been trusted with a suicide pill twist my impending doom into something almost comical. I’d laugh, but I’d rather not startle the rats in my cell. This has been their home for presumably years, but I’ve only been down here a few hours.

I scratch the back of my wrist, staring at tired stone walls like they’ve done something to me. I wish I knew what time it was. How long have I been down here? How long has it been since I was separated from Mare? An hour? Three?Each passing minute strikes me like a bullet, but I can’t count them. I’ve never had a talent for accurately feeling the passage of time.

My head aches, frustration and dread tangling themselves in the pit of my stomach. Mare told me the Queen can search through someone’s mind, seeing memories even they can’t remember. What will they do when they see I know virtually nothing? What will happen when they see how close Mare and I truly are? i can’t do anything and the unknown hurts more than my bruised rib.

The sound of the heavy door that divides the luxury of the castle from the wasteland of the cells creaks. I only let my arms flinch, moving from my side to wrap defensively around my stomach. Dull footsteps echo down the pathway that lead to the cell I’m in. I don’t cringe, not even when the sound of walking stops.

I was not born into a rich family, but I was born into a proud one. Fear was practically a criminal act in my household. I’ve been trained to suppress all signs of weakness. My eyes don’t leave the stone wall, I mentally trace the pattern of a long crack in a specific rock. It reminds me of the slope of the Big Dipper.

Will I ever see stars again? The answer leaves a sharp pain in my chest.

“Mare told me about you.”

The words jar me, my stomach dropping in revulsion. Mare had trusted him, and here he stands--successful because he’s a traitor. I know what it’s like to be the most overlooked sibling and to crave to change that. I know what it’s like to want to succeed more than you want air in your lungs, but I don’t think I’d ever betray someone. I like to think that there’s a line even the monster in me won’t cross.

I don’t look at him, partially out of an attempt to protest and partially because I’m afraid of what I’ll see. “She might have mentioned you in passing.”

His scoff is ridiculous. “She didn’t lie about your sense of humor.”

That almost makes me wince. His words are too close, too personal. It’s like he knows me. I turn my. head, ready to cut through the uneasy beginning to get to the miserable middle if it brings me to the end faster.

“You’re here to torment me, not make small talk.” Turning had been a mistake. I regret it instantly. His expression is unforgiving--cold, sharp, and made up of only angles. But that’s not why I stare. I did not expect him to be objectively attractive. The fine slope of his nose, the sharpness of his cheekbones, and the ice blue of his eyes. I need to snap out of this mindset. I’m sure his beauty will not be so distracting when he’s burning me. “Though some might consider that the same thing.”

He scoffs again, the sound dry. The sneer of his lips does not diminish his attractiveness. The fact makes me loathe him. “I wonder if you’ll still be so prone to humor after you’ve been broken--any information of worth extracted from your thoughts.”

“Let me save everyone the trouble and just tell you everything that I know now.” My back straightens despite the pain in my ribs. I look pathetic, dirty and in a torn dress. He’s regal, dressed in fine, all black clothing. “I know that Mare wanted to kill you today, I know that she needed a distraction and that her distraction needed to be expendable, which is why I’m sitting in front of you.” I squeeze my hands together awkwardly, a bit of genuine irritation rolling in my stomach. “That’s literally all I know, I’m not even part of the Guard.” I scratch the back of my wrist. If I were him, I wouldn’t believe that, but I’m being honest. How pitiful can one person be that they’re worth more disconnected from the group they work for than as an actual member? “You don’t take that kind of risk for someone that’s only skill set is in thought.”

I didn’t mean to say that out loud, but I don’t regret it. Maybe he’ll think that my story is so pathetic it has to be true. “You have to know more than that.”

“The Scarlet Guard only reaches out to me on a need-to-know basis, and anything worthwhile to you is something I clearly didn’t need to know.” In a way, I’m glad I can’t give him anything. “So are you going to kill me with a bullet or do you prefer more flamboyant executions?” My death should be plain. I am human completely--I bleed red and I have no powers. “I do think anything more than a simple death is more trouble than I’m worth.”

His lips press together oddly, something beneath his expression tightening. “You don’t think your dearest friend will return for you?”

The sarcasm in his voice sparks something in me I thought only my sister could. “I think she has a lot of responsibilities and I wouldn’t blame her for having priorities.”

His eyebrows draw together. “I think you’re painfully unaware of how attached to you she is.” I press my lips into a thin line. “She’ll come for you.”

Something selfish in me hopes that he’s right. No one has ever wanted me enough to come back for me. My mother wanted perfect daughters that knew how to only think in terms of trapping men with stable careers. My sister did it, but I could never manage, and to my mother that made me useless.

“If you believe it,” I mumble beneath my breath.

I don’t know if he hears me. I can’t bring myself to care if he did. “For your sake, you better not have lied to me.”

My back relaxes against the raspy wall, fighting down a grimace as the motion irritates my rib injury. “Cross my heart, Your Highness.”

I watch him carefully, his expression turning into something much more grim. “A King is referred to as His Majesty.”

“My father was a prominent war general and my mother only wanted daughters she could use to social climb.” I fight down a grin. “I know what I said.”

His expression darkens into something bone chilling. “I am the King and you’ll refer to me as such or deal with even less pleasant circumstances.”

I fight against the urge to cower, picturing Mare’s strength in my veins. There’s weakness in everyone, and if I squint I can see the thin cracks in him. “You have everything--the crown, the power, the support of the people, and it’s still not enough. You won and you still feel like you’re competing.”

“You don’t know anything,” he seethes, practically growling.

I shouldn’t press him, but the more he reacts, the more weaknesses are revealed. “I know what it’s like to have a sibling that’s the sun, and no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you’re always trapped in a shadow.”

The lighting makes his eyes look almost glazed over. “My mother will be here soon and the truth will be revealed.”

He can run from me, but not the truth. Cal has nothing, he has everything--the father that never cared for him is dead, and yet he’s still trapped. Our similarities hurt me more than my physical injuries.

Maven turns, his gaze moving off of me feels like the removal of heavy shackles. “It would do you well to not press me. You’re worth as much whole as you are broken.”

There’s the strangest hint of something more to his voice. I wonder if he’s speaking to more than just me. “You haven’t won until that voice in your head telling you that you’re not enough is silenced.”

“You’re a powerless girl who isn’t even wanted by a dying cause and couldn’t find a husband to drag her above the poverty line. You know nothing about me, and if you keep pretending I’ll slaughter you in front of your dear friend.”

He leaves without another word. I fall asleep with my back against the wall and my ribs aching.

#red queen #red queen x reader #maven #maven calore #maven calore x reader #maven calore imagine #red queen imagine #mare barrow #cal calore #bookboyfriend #book boyfriend x reader

404 notes · View notes