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silvanable · 4 years ago

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Idk if hcs are open and ignore me if it isnt!! Can i request an angsty ikevamp prompt? How would suitors react to an MC he likes who likes another suitor? Both suitor and MC's love can be unrequited, and MC could come to suitor to talk about her unrequited love. If you want to make it super angsty, MC could be suitor's first actual romantic interest in a very long time. Plz feel free to choose any suitor, but my favs are leo/comte. I love your writings :) thanks so much!

i know you said headcanons but i saw this as a perfect opportunity to slap down an angst filled fic because i’m not doing so hot and i can’t process emotions unless it’s written format. anyways, i hope you don’t mind!

i figured it was about time i got back to my roots, bringing the unholy angst back that started this blog—

SO HAPPY THANKSGIVING AND WHY NOT WRECK CELEBRATE THE HOLIDAYS WITH A LITTLE ANGST, EH?

and everyone can cry with me because we all abso—fucking—lutely know that comte would sideline himself and his feelings for the better of others.

↪ GUIDELINES

✒ tags : unrequited love, comte x mc, mentioned mc x leonardo, angsty af, gn!reader mostly but love languages don’t have fucking gn terms

✒ warnings : n/a

✒ word count : 1740

It seemed this was some sort of punishment. It had to be, perhaps to make up for all the things he had done in his youth. Fitting, he would agree, but it did not lessen the pain.

Here you are, sitting in the garden with him.

A wistful sigh falls from your lips.

The things he would do to comfort you. To assure you that you were deserving of all admiration and love.

He would steal your breath with amorous kisses, only daring to relent when neither of you could last a moment longer without air. He would whisper every loving and reassuring word he could muster from his tongue. He would hold you close and keep you in his embrace until you understood how much he adored you.

He would do all these things because he loved you like any other before. You were intoxicating. The way you smiled brought warmth to his chest. The sound of your laughter was a melody he could never tire of. The scent of you was more intoxicating than any vintage wine that ever grazed his lips.

Without you, he was empty and hollow. You had brought the light back into his life. You had offered a hand to him and showed him a gentleness he believed he was undeserving of.

And perhaps he still was because your heart belonged to another.

Comte forced a small smile.

“Ma cherie,” He called your attention. Those beautiful eyes flickered away from the cup of tea in your hands and up to him. His heart still had not gotten used to such a sweet gaze upon him, yet now it was broken with sorrow.

“You said you wanted my advice on something?”

You pursed your lips in response. It seemed you were second-guessing yourself on the need to talk. Comte knew the expression you made all too well and offered a small, encouraging nod.

Another sigh escaped you, far heavier than the one before. “There’s… Someone I like and the problem is, well, they don’t seem to feel the same way.”

What a bitter irony of life.

“See,” You shifted, sitting up and twisted your hands in the hem of your sleeves, “It’s been a long time since I felt something for someone and… I don’t know— maybe I’m just over-analyzing it because they were nice.”

He understood, Comte understood entirely what you meant. After all, he was looking at the very person who had set a spark to his heart’s fire and he would never say a thing.

“Are you sure this mysterious suitor is just unaware of your affections?” He took a sip from the teacup in his hands. He tried to play it off calmly, to hold himself together.

Nothing was allowed to slip through his carefully crafted facade. It took decades to build such a gentlemanly persona and he would not allow himself to fall in shambles, back onto his old ways. No, he had to be a better man.

No matter how much this drove a knife into his chest.

You shrugged, defeated with a gesture of your hand. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because we’re just too different—personal—and don’t even get me started on time-traveling culturally!” An exasperated huff left you, somewhere between a broken laugh and squashed sob.

Comte said your name softly, “Surely there are things you have similar, things that drew you to this person,” He set the tea aside on the table between you both, “Have you confronted them about your feelings?”

As if he was one to talk about such a thing, with you just across from him, yet he hid a secret from you.

A growl of frustration erupted from your throat. “That’s the thing! I’ve tried so many times to find a good moment but any time I start, he somehow always manages to run away!” By now you were on your feet, angrily pacing through the gazebo.

“I mean, did I do something wrong? Is it because he’s a vampire and I’m not?” You vented, too caught in the whirlwind of your growing anger to notice the softness the pureblood gazed at you with.

He understood the fear of that commitment. You were mortal after all, he was not. No doubt the resident—who Comte had a growing suspicion of who, yet would not dare entertain the thought, not yet—feared their long life and falling for someone who would, eventually, pass away and leave them a broken heart.

He would love you nonetheless. If you were his, he would dare to turn you if you let him, so that he could have you to himself longer.

Selfish, yes, but if he had been fortunate enough to have your heart he would never want to let it go.

“Or is it because of the door? I don’t have to go back—hell! I’ve thought more than once these past few weeks about not going back!” You glared heatedly at the mansion. A gaze that was so fierce that the flames of it practically glowed in your eyes.

“But when I mention I might suddenly Leonardo—” Comte visibly flinched, you did not notice, “—is insisting that I go the moment I’m able when all I’ve been trying to tell him is I want to stay for him!”

How could you be so cruel and yet so gentle at the same time?

Comte had only wished you had never said his name, his closest friend. He could feel his heart twist, the ugly head of jealousy reared like a viper, but he forced it down.

He was a gentleman, one of the utmost kind.

Comte’s smile strained but to you, it was sympathetic. “You must understand, ma cherie, as pureblood vampires things are different for us.”

“Yes and?” You turned to Comte, expression twisted and asking to explain how any of that mattered. How did being different like that matter so much when you were so enamored with him that you were willing to give up everything you knew just to be with him.

“Does he not want me and just doesn’t want to tell me?” Your voice welled with emotion suddenly, “Does he think it’s sparing my feelings instead of telling me straight?” Tears gathered in your eyes.

It was painful to see you becoming so unraveled. At that moment, it took all his strength to remain poised and still, to not reach over and take you into his arms and kiss away all of your tears. But he could not be the jealous man, it was not his place, because he was not your lover. He was nothing but your host and he had to remain the courteous host for you.

And now of all times, he damned himself for taking that position, because it meant he would never have you.

“Perhaps he believes that not telling you will spare you of forcing your decision, of stealing the life you have ahead of you.” And to protect you from the heartache I feel now.

You sank back into your seat. A disheartened sigh fell from your lips as you put your head in your hands. “What should I do?” You lifted your head to look at Comte.

He could not resist your gaze, the way your beautiful eyes plead with him. He wanted to see that stunning smile of yours again, the one that brightened his days, the one he cherished in his dreams.

It was decided at that moment, he would see your smile again. Even if it meant he had to break his heart to have you happy. To see you happy was all he wanted.

“Let me speak with Leonardo,” He prayed you had not heard the jealousy hidden in his chest in his voice, “I’m sure I can find what is troubling my friend and spare you from any further pain.” He leaned forward, taking your hand in his.

If he could freeze time he would have, to engrave this moment in space and never let it pass. The warmth of your hand in his. How the light returned to your face with newfound hope. The sparkle in your eyes. Everything, he wanted to remember everything about you at this moment forever and preserve it.

Alas, time was fleeting, and moved on despite his desperate wishes. So he had to keep the memory, tucked away somewhere close to his heart, never to leave him even with the wear of time.

“You would?” The eager hopefulness in your voice was heart-wrenching.

“Of course, ma cherie,” He patted your hand before he reluctantly withdrew his touch, “This is an issue you have with one of my residents and I would not be a decent host to let these problems fester when they affect you so.”

You were absolutely beaming, a bright smile that could rival the sun’s own warmth and light. It was something he wished he could have basked in for eternity.

“Thank you so much, Comte,” You jumped from your seat, throwing your arms around him.

The action was so sudden it had taken him by surprise and yet before he could process and return the gesture, you drew away again.

“Thank you!” You repeated, gathering up the dishes from your tea chat, “I should go help Sebastian with dinner.” Your tone was practically ecstatic as you moved back towards the path to the mansion.

All the while Comte only smiled at you. Yet as your figure grew further and further away, fading into the gardens lush greenery, his smile began to gradually fall.

That facade of a caring, gentlemanly host shattered the moment you were gone. Emotions erupted from the tight fist that had held them at bay. Comte pressed a hand to his mouth, restraining the sounds of sorrow that threatened to burst from him. Amber eyes welled with unshed tears.

Emotions rushed over him like a tidal wave. There was no moment to breathe, not a chance to catch himself. No, these feelings grabbed hold of him and dragged him under. He would drown in them and nothing could save him now.

Comte swallowed hard and his eyes fluttered close.

The sky grew darker as time passed him by in silence.

He took a shaky breath and steadied himself, dropping his hand into his lap, as he regained his composure.

“For you,” His voice betrayed the emotions under the calm face, “For you, ma cherie, and your smile.”

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loyally-unfaithful · 4 years ago

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—; don’t run from me river

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

summary: nines filed the results of the system check to the back of his mind, to be analysed later, and sighed. he wasn’t originally programmed to sigh, but he sure did it alot nowadays. he sighed once more. this check would most likely return like the previous few, [ all systems optimal; functionality: 100% ]. so why does his processor stutter, causing him to freeze and catch his voice in his throat, when he was around you? there was only one logical explanation: he was broken.

a/n: ya boi is an idiot who made more wips than he could handle,,,, but anyway i wanted to write a nines fic because,,,,,,,,,,,, idk inspiration struck? i must admit i had no idea where i was going w this fic skfksfjaskdfhjk btw nines is deviant in this fic, i just have a hc that since he was forced into deviancy (unlike the 3 protagonists who reached some sort of catharsis) he isn’t as familiar with emotions as those 3, hence his difficulty identifying and expressing them. also rk800-60 and rk900 have assigned names, being colin (nickname sixty) and conan (nickname nines) respectively. connor is just connor lmao,,,,, i am god in my fics and i decide that my 3 bois are bros and happy lil deviants,,,, mk, go!

the ambiance inside the bar was loud and suffocating. many people came to celebrate an officer’s promotion to detective, and while nines wasn’t particularly close to them, he showed up regardless (although a certain duo of rk800 models may or may not have had something to do with his decision). mere formalities; he politely congratulated them and stepped away to ruminate on his own in a corner, absently watching the scene in front of him. for a reason that escaped him, he was (disappointed?) (hurt?) that you got along with colin. he still experienced anomalies in his system when near you, even after being told that he was perfectly fine at the maintenance centre. if the problem wasn’t from within, then there was only one probable cause: an outside factor. a recurring event. one that triggered these anomalies. you.

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

while you have taken to your new partner wonderfully, he wasn’t as gracious with his. between reed’s incessant snide remarks and overall unwillingness to cooperate, he’d much rather be deactivated. he found himself missing your partnership. for one, your cooperativeness was a relief. you were determined, passionate and kind. truthfully, he missed you. the shine in your eyes when you find a lead, your composure and professionalism, the soothing quality of your voice, the way you’d let you hand linger in his, how your features softened when you smiled—smiled at hi— he caught himself. why did that last part come to mind? how did you still manage to affect him when you’re so far away? he was about to check why when a laughter caught his attention. your wonderful laughter. One he was oh so familiar with. you were laughing with his brother, probably at another of his bad jokes. seeing you happy with him stirred an ugly feeling inside him. one that he did not recognise nor acknowledge. one that caused him to glare at his older counterpart.

he was miserable after parting ways from you, having to deal with reed’s complaining. he was hurt, he was away from you and it didn’t feel right. this distance between you two manifested as physical pain on his part, so how come you were fine? how were you able to move on in your life as if nothing happened? sadness and hurt turned into something more despicable: how dare you not feel the same pain he did? seeing you so happy twisted the knife deeper in his heart. how could you? conflicting emotions; he wanted to see you happy. he also wanted to see you suffer with him.

his glowering must’ve been pretty obvious as connor “addressed” him, asking if he was alright, to which he replied with a curt « all systems fully functional ». clearly the wrong answer as the rk800 frowned slightly and asked him to follow him. nines did as told. you watched him as he left, but he’d never know that.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between the detective and i. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get the detective’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

a sudden rage took over nines’ body as he pushed colin out of the doorway and stormed back inside the bar. a few beats passed before connor threw a chastising look at his twin, which colin shrugged nonchalantly to.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”.

date /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not dense, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

watching you hurt inside because of him was worse than any punishment he could’ve received. any and all previous wishes for you to suffer was quickly erased. he’s much rather suffer alone than watch you break. he took hesitant steps back. away from you. distancing himself from you. you noticed his actions and whispered a desperate « nines… please… » he wanted to run away. he wanted to stay. he wanted to leave and pretend this conversation never happened. he wanted to hold you and tell you everything: his fears, his doubts, his growing affection for you. in the end, he found himself running away from his problems like a coward. you didn’t bother to chase after him, desperately crying out « please… please don’t run from me conan. », last part choked out as you tried to hold yourself together. hearing your voice crack and waver because of him was awful. he wanted to turn back. comfort you. But his body didn’t obey him. when he finally stopped to pay attention to where he was going, he was right back at his shared flat. he swallowed dryly and moved to enter his house, a solemn air around him.

the next few days were absolutely torturous. he increased his initiative to avoid you, never seen in the same place as you, much to your chagrin. an act so blatant than someone as ignorant as reed noticed, an act that become the core of his recent round of taunts. avoiding you hurt. so why did he continue to do it? the thought of approaching the subject made him go cold. it immobilised him, stopped him from uttering a single word. a quick search told him he was scared. nervous. for rejection. he doesn’t know if his heart could take much more. he does resolve to tell you one day… just… not today…

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to get shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

the clock ticked. and ticked. and ticked. when finally, the surgeon informed the two that you were alright. they managed to take out all the bullets. your condition was stable. you were ok. heavily sedated and going to be in a lot of pain. but you were ok. nines didn’t stop the heavy sigh of relief that escaped him. the doctor told them that visits will be allowed as soon as you were settled in recovery. he was going to tell you. he told himself, like an unspoken promise. he was going to tell you then. it’s the least you deserve. he was going to apologise and come clean. hopefully you’ll have it in you to forgive him.

when you finally came to, your body ached, you didn’t want to move, so you settled with eyeing your room. what happened? you were chasing this guy… and he pulled out a gun… pain and then darkness. and now you’re here. the recovery room was filled with gifts and get-well soon cards. balloons of assorted colours filled the room, bouquets of diverse types of flowers adorned the table.

« you’re awake. »

you turned your head at the source, seeing connor at the doorway. « how—you cleared your throat—how long was i gone for? you asked, voice raspy. – around 3 days and a half. you’d gain consciousness a few times, but you were too heavily sedated to be fully coherent. he explained as he took a seat near the bed. you groaned. – gosh that long? connor nodded. how’s colin? – doing pretty well all things considered. he does, however, feel immensely guilty about failing to protect you. – well, tell him it’s not his fault and that i forgive everything he’s blaming himself with. you worried about him. despite sixty’s mischievous exterior, he had a tendency to get himself stuck in a depressive loop of self-deprecation. connor smiled graciously. – will do… he placed a paper cup filled with what you assumed was thirium on the floor. how are you feeling? – everything hurts but i’ll live, you quipped. » the android chuckled and was about to reply when a knock caught both of your attention. the door creaked slightly open, as nines peered in. he hesitated before asking if he may speak with you. the “alone” part being left unsaid as connor bid you farewell and left.

you and your former partner were locked in an intense stareoff, you on the bed on one end and him glued to the door on the other. he took tentative steps towards you. closing that distance. when he was besides your bed, he nervously called out your name. you parroted him, mustering out a curt « conan. » he took a deep breath that he technically didn’t need and whispered out an apology: « i… i’m sorry. for everything i’ve caused—for all the hurt i’ve caused… for what it’s worth… i never meant for all this to happen. » his voice was clipped as guilt overcame him. you watched him, silent as ever. he wished you would say something, anything. the silence was deafening.

« then please tell me why… he promised himself that he’d come clean. – i… i don’t… i don’t think i know... for sure… i experienced anomalies in my system when i was around you.. you’d consume my every thought, i’d feel immobilised and i… i’ve been told that i’m being nervous… i’ve been told that i harboured romantic feelings for you… i-i don’t know. i… i yearn for your attention, your touch, your affection… but is it right for something like me to desire such a thing? am-am i broken…? his voice was barely a whisper when he choked out the lay part, and he waited for his response, growing more anxious as each second ticked by. what if you didn’t want him? what if he wasn’t enough? – no, you aren’t broken. you shook your head. just human. »

nines. confident and assured nines was an insecure and trembling mess as he poured out all of the doubts that plagued his mind. your heart aches as you wished to comfort him, so you do. you reached out, best you can, and grabbed him into a bone crushing hug. an action that took him by surprised as he stiffened at your touch. but he soon relaxed and carefully snaked his arms around your waist, returning the hug. you slowly caressed his hair as he nuzzled into your neck.

you both stay like this for a moment, relishing in each others presence, before you spoke up again: « it’s okay to be unsure, you know. he stopped his nuzzling, indicating to you that he was listening. if you don’t feel ready at the moment… if you just wanna be friends for the time being, i’m ok with that. and if one day you decide that you want to be more, just remember i’ll be right here. » you pressed a gentle kiss on the crown of his head and stayed in that position for a while, neither wanting to part ways, but this awkwardly positioned hug took a toll on your back so the both of you half heartedly pulled away from each other. hands holding the other’s, you asked for one more request: « just promise me one thing. – anything, he breathed out. – please… don’t ever run from me again. – never. he promised, fully intending to fulfill said request. »

« thank you. »

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trashscenariihxh · 5 years ago

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Can I please have the trash quartet as yanderes? Thank you!

Sure! I actually already did some for Hisoka and Pariston on my old blog, but for the sake of convenience, I’ll just repost them here (No, I’m not stealing someone else’s HCs! I’m just reposting). If you’ve already read those HCs on my other blog and want more, please ask ^^ TW: narcissistic, abusive behavior ahead. If any of you are being treated this way by another person, get away ASAP!

Yandere HCs: Trash Quartet Edition

Hisoka

Okay so it’s actually very unlikely for the clown to become a true yandere because let’s face it, he’s probably never going to be able to obsess over and “love” a single person enough for things to develop to that point.

However, if Hisoka has decided that he really, really wants to ruin someone (ie: kill, break, maim, possess totally) then it’s possible he’ll get a bit obsessive. Now don’t get me wrong: he’s still going to go off and do his own thing. He’ll fuck, kiss, and kill whoever he wants. Sometimes he might even forget about you for a bit. But he always comes back to “play,” and god help anyone who gets in his way.

Hisoka won’t really care if this “toy” of his does their own thing for a while, but he would want your ruination to be reserved for him. Imagine his obsession with Gon and crank that up to 11.

Yandere!(ish) Hisoka manages to be even more covered in blood than usual.

Stalking. So much stalking.

Even though his end goal is to ruin you, Hisoka can act quite… pleasant around you sometimes. Lots of teasing, flirting… some creepy allusions to what he wants to do to you.

So here’s the thing: Hisoka might not be planning on ruining you right NOW, but some mental torture is still on the table. If he sees someone seriously flirting with you? Consider that person dead. Hisoka will straight up kill someone horribly in front of you, and then revel in your fear and revulsion.

He might even make a few halfhearted attempts to kill you right then and there just to watch you squirm.

You’d better believe his dick is hard the whole time. “Seeing you scared like this is so delicious.”

Pariston

That whole spiel about wanting to hurt the things he loves should give you enough of an idea of what Pariston is capable of.

Okay so Yandere!Pariston happens gradually, at least as far as you’re concerned. He starts out being so… nice. And generous. He’s always around to lend a helping hand. Always smiling. Always giving you compliments. When he asks you out, you feel like you’ve won the boyfriend lottery.

You’re so enraptured by his charm that you don’t notice how far apart you’ve gotten from your friends, or how little you call your family. Sure, you gave up your career, but that was only after Pariston assured you that he’d take care of you!

It starts slowly, so you don’t really notice how Pariston keeps really close tabs on where you go, who you talk to. He likes to do things like pick out your outfits and accessories, he chooses your perfume. Soon you’ve become a perfect specimen of everything that Pariston wants.

Pariston will manipulate and straight up gaslight you when you start to realize that what he’s doing isn’t okay… and you’d better believe that he’s doing all those hurtful things on purpose. But of course, Pariston will tell you that you’re being ridiculous- of course he wasn’t flirting with his coworker just now. You must be imagining the scent of someone else’s perfume on his clothes. How dare you think so lowly of him?

By the time you realize what’s going on, it’s too late. Pariston has isolated you from everyone. You have no friends, no money, no career. He makes sure you know it, too, and he tells you in his mellifluous voice while smiling widely.

The scary thing about Pariston is, you never know when he’s really happy or angry with you, or if he’s just trying to get a reaction out of you for the fun of it. He has you on your toes constantly.

Is he coming on to you, or threatening you? You can never be sure.

Want to leave him? Go ahead and try. See what happens.

Chrollo

Chrollo is kind of a weird type of yandere. He’s not really going to want you to be close by all the time. He’s a criminal, after all. You’d probably just slow him down. But as soon as he gets back, you’d better make yourself available to him. Friends? Other engagements? Forget them. Sure, the troupe will always come first in his mind. But he believes that as far you’re concerned, he should be your priority.

Chrollo essentially sees you as a toy that he can play with as he likes, but he doesn’t want anyone else to play with you either.

It takes a LONG time for his yandere side to come out though. On the surface, he seemed pretty normal at first. You might not even have known that he’s essentially a mass murderer. He was nice, sweet, and caring for the longest time! Once you realize what he is, it’s far too late. He’s figured out all your greatest fears, your hopes, dreams, what makes you tick. You’re entirely in his control.

If he asks you a question about what you’ve been up to while he’s been away, answer truthfully. He might be genuinely curious... but it could also be a test. Tread carefully.

He can be so sickly sweet and romantic when he wants to be. Is it genuine? Is it a lie? You’ll never know, but it does seem as though he turns on the charm when he wants something.

Are you his partner or a hostage? The line between the two is exceptionally thin and blurry.

Chrollo believes that you are destined to be together, so no matter how many times you reject him, or how many times you run away, he will bring you back. He’s not in a rush to do so either... after all, you’re meant to be together (in his eyes, anyway).

So basically, you might think you’ve seen the last of him and start getting comfortable with your new life. Maybe you have a job. Friends. A new lover perhaps. Things will be going really, really well... until out of nowhere Chrollo appears and takes all of that away from you.

You can tell him you hate him as much as you want, he won’t listen. You can tell him how happy you were without him. That won’t matter. In Chrollo’s mind, he knows you could never be happy without him.

Chrollo has a way of getting you to apologize for things you should never have to apologize for, and he has made you see his forgiveness as some kind of panacea for all your pain.

Once he’s made you feel completely psychologically (and perhaps physically) dependent on him, Chrollo will use his absence as a punishment/means of control. He will ghost you for weeks. Maybe even months. He knows this destroys you, but he doesn’t care. Doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?

Illumi

Illumi is the most straightforward yandere here. He doesn’t really play many games with you; he’s made it perfectly clear that you are his and his alone. Why is that so difficult for you to understand? Do you need to be reminded?

Illumi is not above using his needles on you to bend you to his will, but he doesn’t want you to be a shell of a human. At least, not yet. That’s only as a last resort. He’d rather you be devoted to him of your own free will (and perhaps with a little bit of... extra convincing) but if you remain stubborn, then, well...

He doesn’t see a difference between you doing as he says of your own volition and you obeying him because you’re too terrified of the consequences. It’s all the same to him.

He wants babies. All the babies. Illumi is obsessed with carrying on the Zoldyck line, so if you have womb, you will be expected to use it. Of course Illumi will see this as a way of binding you to him even more.

Did someone upset you? Consider them dead. Illumi won’t understand why you’re upset by him killing them, though.

Illumi does, in fact, understand human emotions. He’s just not great at expressing them. So instead of normal, healthy, romantic love you get Illumi’s twisted approximation of it. He’s isolating you from all your friends and family because surely that’s what love is, right?

If you ever tell him no, or tell him that you don’t want to see him, or that you want to do something that he’s forbidden, he’ll just stare at you with those dead eyes of his and ask “why?” And then you’ll be at a loss for words, and eventually you’ll end up doing what he says.

Illumi sees you as his property, plain and simple. However, he doesn’t see how this is a bad thing. Really, he doesn’t. In his mind, you’re living in a mansion, you don’t have to do any work if you don’t want to, and you have his undivided attention and devotion. What more could you want?

As Jareth, the Goblin King said: “I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.”

#yandere #yandere tw #illumi zoldyck #pariston hill #hisoka #chrollo lucilfer #dubcon #tw abusive relationships #tw pregnancy

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awitchylilbitch · 5 years ago

Text

Elriel HC // Nose piercing a.k.a Az will do anything to have Elain near // pt 2 Elain’s pov

Just brushing off the rust and getting my keyboard clacking (also violently procrastinating an exam but the world is on fire and I need elriel fluff) I love double pov stuff so I figures it was only fair to see what Elain thought in my last HC.

(not as happppy with this as i was with Az but its 3 am and i h a d to get this outta me)

Part 1

azriel’s pov

Elain pierces Azriel’s nose, as per his request pt 2

· The pot was heavier than she had realized.

· Elain hoisted the large planter onto the wire stand, huffing as the leaves brushed her face.

· They were growing nicely

· She relished in the pang of relief that coursed through her.

· Ever since the War, ever since she came back, she had been at odds.

· Feyre had a life here, and she had been more than welcoming.

· But Elain couldn’t shake the feeling that she was supposed to do more, be more. Help more by learning.

· She had not indulged in her powers much. She didn’t want to. All she saw was horrible, dark twisted things.

· Little bat babies being snatched away from Feyre, Nesta’s icy anger at everyone through the years, her sister’s crushing sobs at the war when Rhys stopped breathing-

· She shook her head, realizing she was white knuckling the edges of her terra cotta pot, her fingers digging into the soil.

· Feyre loved him. And he had loved her enough to come back

· Elain hated to admit it but she wanted that too.

· She didn’t want Rhys, Cauldron no-

· And she wanted nothing to do with the man who was complacent in hurting her sister.

· Lucien.

· She felt that tug, settled deep into her and she shuddered.

· Lucien was not hers. And she was okay with it.

· But her heart tugged at her again. Not towards the horizon to wherever Lucien had settled.

· But back to the Manor.

· To him.

· His impossible kindness, his deep, unyielding strength. Elain had never seen anything like it.

· She could feel the power rolling off those broad shoulders, could feel the sheer force of him and-

· Home. Azriel.

· The word crashed through her

· She shook it off, picking up the watering can with a little too much zeal. When it flew up, unexpectedly light in her hands, she instinctively blocked her face with her hand.

· Dammit Elain.

· She took a deep breath, angling the can over the edge, forcing her mind to focus on the water.

· Not too much, not too far.

· She wondered if she was still thinking about the plants.

· Once she was done, she sighed.

· There was no dodging it. She had to go back inside.

· She knew he was there. Knew that as soon as her feet crossed the threshold, she would drift to him, just like her traitorous mind was doing right now. Towards that smile, that soft rumbling voice-

· She immediately set foot into the garden. She was going for a walk. It was a few feet but she would do it, because the wandering would keep her outside the house longer.

· Away from him, from his pining glances towards Mor.

· Elain saw them. She would be an idiot not to.

· Her fingers brushed against the flowers gently, the pollen rubbing onto them.

· And she felt pathetic. Not being loyal to the man she had been betrothed to, rejecting her mate and pining after someone who was pining after an endlessly beautiful fae female.

· She hated that it bothered her. Hated that all she wanted to do was bury her face in his chest and hug him. Hug him hard enough that all the broken pieces of her would fuse together again.

· When something poked her finger, she looked down. And realized that in her wanderings, her fingers had stopped caressing the flower and had picked it right off.

· Oh no.

· Elain sighed. She was supposed to be good at this.

· After a beat, she raised her hand and tucked the flower behind her ear. And sighed again. She had to go back inside now. rinsing her hands off at the small sink, she dried them with the towelthat had appeared there one day. She hoped it had been him.

· When she crossed the threshold, she heard the gentle murmur of voices. The Males, Mor and her sister.

· He was there, she was sure of it.

· And just like she had predicted her feet floated towards the door of the sitting room.

· She paused outside the doorway.

· She couldn’t do this, she couldn’t do this.

· If she stepped inside, it would be rude and unlike her to leave suddenly, she knew she’d make herself stay.

· And spend the night like she always did. Catching glimpses of him out of the corner of his eye, watching that rare smile flit across his, face, seeing his deft hands move as he spoke, that voice like cedar scented velvet-

· “I said I’d like to get my nose pierced. Change up the look a little.”

· Elain stepped out of her haze, to realize she had stepped into the door.

· Cauldron damn her.

· She heard his friend reply, the one who reminded her of fire and flame.

· She could still leave, no one had noticed, she could turn around and walk right out-

· He spoke again and she was instantly liquid where she stood.

· “I just think a nose piercing would look good. Too many tattoos. I’m almost bored of them.”

· Elain loved nose piercings on men. It was such a simple little accessory that many of them would not dream of because it was too much of a hit to their manliness but here he was, talking about getting his nose pierced. And Elain loved it. She hated herself for the fact that the thought of it made her smile. Her cheeks flooded with heat.

· This was bad, this was bad-

· Right on cue, the male turned to look at her.

· His eyes were fixed on her, that tender, soft look that he always had, the one that reduced her to shambles-

· Only then did she realized she had spoken.

· Mother above, what did she say? She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t think when he was looking at her, his torso fully turned towards her. There was a drumming in her ears. Was she smiling, why was she smiling at him like that, oh Mother above-

· She spoke again, before she could reign it in.

· “If you really want to, I can help.”

· There was silence. She could have heard the petals drop outside. Her heart stuttered.

· She looked like an idiot. His eyes are wide, Mother above, he thinks you’re insane Elain.

· “You can?”

· She dragged her eyes away from him.

· A near impossible feat.

· And met Mor’s.

· There was no resentment there, no jealousy. Just a question.

· Why did Elain feel exposed?

· “I used to help the girls in our village get piercings. And I used to scrounge up some herbs to help with the healing and aftercare.”

· Be quiet Elain, please for the love of-

· “How about right now?”

· When he spoke, Elain broke out of her daze. She made her eyes refocus on him. On his tan skin, on the little crease above his eyebrow, pulled together just a little. Why did he look at her like that? Like he wanted to reach out to her-

· Nonsense. It’s because she looked like an idiot, that’s why.

· The flower behind her ear came loose and a lock of hair flopped into her face. She brushed at it, sweeping it behind her ear again. She blinked. It took a second for her to form a sentence.

· “Now?” it came out almost sharp. She regretted it instantly.

· “If you don’t mind, that is.”

· How could she mind, how could she ever, ever mind?

· Her cheeks flushed again, and she realized she was giving him a smile.

· Oh, for crying out loud, why did she look so stupidly happy, he’s going to think something’s wrong with her.

· “I have some supplies in my room, I’ll get them.”

· Before Elain fully realized it, her feet were out the door.

· She entered her room, as though she was walking on a cloud. How could she be doing this, offering to pierce the nose of a man she was pining after-

· She was not pining.

· She was not.

· And she’d prove it.

· She would pierce his nose. And that wouldn’t mean a thing.

· She ignored how the very idea of her near him, her touching his face sent her insides into butterflies-

· Where was the little box?

· Her hands brushed against it, and she pulled it out from under the pile of things neatly tucked away in her drawer. The folds came undone, the clothes flopped around, some even falling out the edge of the drawer-

· She didn’t; care. Why didn’t she care? Her things were always immaculate.

· She had a job to do. That’s all. Just a job.

· A favour for a friend. She ignored the twisting in her at friend.

· She would do it. And that’s all there would be to it. Nothing more.

· When she entered the room, he looked up at her.

· And her insides screamed not a friend, not a friend, not a friend-

· Oh Mother above, what had she done, she was going to have to touch him-

· She placed the box on the table, and focused on breathing as she looked up at him.

· Very carefully she spoke, stressing the words.

· “Do you want a stud or a hoop?”

· He looked up at her, his eyes meeting hers and she swore the world tilted just a bit-

· His eyes were soft, questioning.

· He looked so soft, yet so hewn, the way the heat from the oven caressed her hands when she pulled out fresh loaves, like the weight of the soil between her fingers-

· She gave a small laugh.

· Why did she laugh, why was-

· His eyes shifted a little. Or Elain was imagining things.

· She was imagining things. For sure.

· “Here, I’ll help.” Why was it so hard to form a sentence?

· She pulled a small hoop from the box, one with flat ends that could be slid on, and a stud with a sticky back.

· She always did a good job, she always went the extra mile.

· Even when it involved touching him more?

· She clamped down on the bubbling question.

· For the first time, she realized she had company. She truly had not been able to look at anyone else, not her sister, not the males watching her intently.

· She suddenly felt a rush, of self-consciousness and didn’t dare look up at anyone else. She was mortified, they were Fae, they could see right through her-

· “Which is your good side?”

· Oh cauldron damn her

· “Really, Elain?” Cass’s voice rumbled from somewhere in the room, and she put her hands up, defeated.

· She was an idiot, they all knew.

· “I don’t really have a preference, love”

· Love.

· For a minute, for a full minute, Elain forgot how to move, forgot how to breathe-

· Love.

· He hasn’t ever said that to anyone in front of her. Or said it to anyone ever.

· Why did he say it to her?

· He must have said it to others before. She wracked her brain as she forced herself to step forward. When she reached for him, her hands shook.

· “May I?”

· She had forgotten how to talk above a whisper.

· She wondered if he even heard her.

· “Yes.”

· And the first brush of her fingertips against his skin sent Elain reeling.

· She made herself focus, focus more than when she was weeding, when she was planting, when she was measuring ingredient-

· She took a deep breath.

· The fragrance of his skin hit her hard.

· He smelled of cedar, mist and hints of mint. It was like the spark of a cedar wood fire, as it dulled to a constant, steady glow in the embers.

· Mother above, Elain was going to lose her mind-

· She slipped the hoop onto his skin.

· “Okay, other side.”

· She didn’t know if she said it out loud. She didn’t care. All she wanted to remember was to breathe in, breathe out-

· “This one has a sticky back, you can put it on without having to pierce to see what it looks like.”

· He rumbled an “mhm’ in response.

· “Okay, now for the mirror.”

· Her hand brushed against his when they both reached for it.

· This time, she was aware that she laughed.

· It was idiotic really, how far gone she felt in this moment-

· She watched his profile, the deep cheekbones, the tan skin, the midnight hair.

· She pictured her fingers pulling through them

· Enough.

· “I like the hoop better.” Feyre’s voice cut into the haze.

· She looked up to see Mor nodding, examining Azriel, her head to the side. Elain felt that pang again.

· “Yeah the hoop’s nicer, Az”

· “Doesn’t the hoop also help it heal faster?” Rhys spoke, his voice low behind her.

· “Yeah, the boys at the camps used to use those for their eyebrows.”

· But Az’s eyes met hers.

· “What do you think?”

· Her voice was again, just above a whisper. She couldn’t even talk to him properly-

· “The hoop.”

· Elain picked up the needle.

· Usually this would be the hard part. Elain would be very aware that she was about the hurt the person in front of her.

· Even if it was just a pinch.

· He was a soldier. She knew he’d had worse. But she had to be so careful, so very careful.

· It was Azriel.

· The needle broke skin. Elain released a shuddering breath she didn’t know she was holding. She slipped the ring through, it clicked close.

· When she looked back at him, his eyes were scrunched close. Little crows feet appeared at the edges, and she had a sudden, wild temptation to brush at them-

· “Did that hurt too much?”

· He smiled at her and Elain’s breath shuttered. He didn’t smile much.

· She realized how much she had come to rely on it, come to trying to make it happen.

· “I’m okay” she sighed in relief.

· She couldn’t hurt him, she could never-

· She had to leave, she had to walk away before she did something truly stupid.

· He turned away from her and reached for the mirror. Where she sat she could see the ring, his profile, the warmth of him on her fingertips-

· “I like it.”

· She could have sworn he stilled when she spoke. And when he turned to look at her, that gentle smile appearing again.

· She had to leave, she had to walk away, remember? She could not afford to do any more favours.

· When she rose, her feet felt unsteady.

· “Elain, do you have any of that ointment for the aftercare?”

· Elain stilled. Oh she was in trouble-

· Just give him the ointment, just don’t make any more promises, just the ointment-

· “Oh, yes. I’ll get some. I’ll help you clean the wound up, okay? It should heal around the hoop soon, Azriel.”

· Dammit, dammit, dammit Elain.

· “Thank you, love.”

· Love. There it was again.

· The term on his lips would be her undoing.

· As she crossed the threshold, she realized she was smiling again.

· Mother above, if she was in trouble, might as well fully be in it-

· “I always liked nose piercings on men. They look elegant.”

· She didn’t know if he heard her.

· She hoped he did.

· He spoke from behind her.

· Thank you, love. I’m glad you like it.”

· And, there it was again.

· When Elain caught sight of herself in the small mirror on the landing, she realized. She still had dirt on her nose.

#elriel #elriel fluff #azriel #elain #elain x azriel #acotar #acomaf #acowar #nessian #feysand #elriel headcannon #awitchylilbitch

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bored-storyteller · 5 years ago

Note

Hello hello!! Would you be okay with writing something about Midoriya getting angry and snapping at Bakugou?

Hello! Thank you for your request! I wanted to do a Midoriya really angry with Bakugou, you gave me the occssion :3

07- My hero academia - Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou

Don't you dare

Bakugou's cheek was still warm. The silence around them was suffocating.

The pain that burned his face throbbed at the same time as the heart in his chest. His crimson eyes remained turned towards the white wall that they had been forced to meet with brutal rapidity, they had no intention of resting on Izuku again.

It hurt, but what troubled him most was the sound of their breaths: his had broken as soon as his classmate's palm slammed on his face, but Midoriya's was still there, his breath was heavy like that of a charging bull.

"Brutal", "charging bull" ... these were all adjectives that would have adapted much more to the person of Katsuki than to Izuku, but the force with which the slap had come did not make him think of anything else.

He quickly tried to rearrange the ideas: what were they talking about? His throat was burning, he was screaming, of course. But what was he saying?

Damn, he wasn't paying attention to his words. He must have said something too much, but what?

Slowly the blonde's hand went to rest on the left side of his face. Under his fingertips the skin burned as if it were embers.

"Fuck, did you go crazy?"

He immediately bit his tongue as soon as he said those words. Maybe those weren't exactly the best ones to fix the situation. Not that he had ever bothered to fix the situation, but now he was really in shock.

It wasn't the violence the All Might pupil had used, no, it was his anger that kept reaching him through the air. It was that Midoriya was not shocked for the action done, but he had the perception that if he could he would do it again.

"You are crazy Bakugou!"

He had used his surname, and for some reason this triggered Katsuki's head towards his interlocutor very quickly. He had called him by surname and snarled.

Seriously, they weren't fighting over something really important, what had escaped his mouth? Did he say anything about All Might?

Deku's big green eyes shone with tears and pure anger. He was crying, but there was no sign of repentance on his face. Maybe there would be later, but at the time it seemed only a threat. Izuku Midoriya, a threat. He would have laughed in another situation.

"Don't you ever dare repeat what you said."

The boy's voice was a hiss but reached the blond strong and clear.

Ah, nice thing. It would have been nice to know what the hell was out of his damned teeth.

"If something happens to someone, to you, I can't forgive you."

Oh. Maybe it wasn't like Bakugou thought. Maybe he was more injured than his brain wanted to remember. Perhaps he had said something about how useless they –he- were compared to All Might's favorite Deku. How much it would have made no difference if they - he - were also dead.

Maybe he had gone down heavy. Maybe his hurt pride had spoken too much, but it was always like that, what did he expect?

“I swear to you, Kacchan. I can forgive you everything, but if something happens to you because of this stupidity of yours, I won't forgive you. "

With those words from Midoriya, Bakugou found himself staring at the boy's shoulders. His thoughts were too slow and he couldn't say a single word.

He found himself alone, in the empty corridor, and a weight on his heart that he could not explain.

- End-

P. S.: Yes I know I had to post this before the Twisted Wonderland hcs. I was wrong. Whoever you are who asked me for this forgive me. 😢

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero fanfic #boku no hero imagines #katsukibakugou #izuku midoriya #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo fic #deku #bnha deku #bnha #one shot #scenarios #ask response #request #requests open

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pointedly-foolish · 5 years ago

Text

[ dσn’t run frσm mє rívєr ]

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”.

date /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

« you’re awake. »

« thank you. »

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

#detroit: become human #rk900 x reader #detroit: become human rk900 #rk900 nines #dbh rk900 #connor detroit: become human #rk800-60 detroit:become human #falsely writes

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kenjkats · 7 years ago

Text

Reconciliation (TRR Fic)

Note: Ok @fairydustandsarcasm requested Liam and Drake fighting and making up and HOLY I was insta-inspired and had to write ASAP. Also bc I’m pretty sure PB is going to make them unrealistically makeup too quickly so… here’s my take before canon blows it all to hell XD And yeah okay it turned into a fic becaused I liked it a lot and it would’ve been too wordy for an HC lol

Also I apologize in advance if any referenced events from Book 1 or general courtly workings are wrong, this was kind rushed because I got excited and just wanted to write XD

Pairing: Drake x Riley OTP; Drake x Liam BROTP

Word count: 2243 LOL that’s ridiculous

Summary: Drake and Riley feel horrible about what their feelings for each other are doing to Liam, and Drake takes it upon himself to make things right.

Riley sits beside Drake, crying.

They met up shortly after the disaster proposal between her and Liam. She sits there with her head buried in her hands, recounting the ordeal to Drake, telling him how bad she feels in between sobs. Drake holds her in his arms, letting her rest her head against his shoulder.

“I told him, Drake,” she says fighting back another surge of tears, “I told him I love you.”

Riley thinks she feels his body stiffen.

“Riley…” he can’t seem to find the words. Moments pass and as Riley starts to regret letting those words out into the open, he turns her face towards his, his hands framing her face as he gently wipes away her tears.

He’s looking at her, unsure, but at the same time his eyes filled with tenderness and longing. Her heart is racing, afraid that telling him she loves him was too much too soon. And yet, all of it melted away when he pressed his lips to hers, and she was sure he felt the same.

Drake pulls away and leans his forehead against hers, a faint smile painted on his lips.

“I love you, too,” he whispers. For a moment all her guilt and sadness fade away into happiness. She frowns when Drake pulls away from her.

He runs his fingers through his hair, “I need to talk to Liam. Before anything else happens,I have to talk to him. I owe him that much, at least.”

“Have you had the chance to talk to him?”

Riley approached Drake who stood at the back of the crowd gathered at the palace, awaiting the King’s announcement. The announcement that was supposed to be her being engaged to him had things gone another way.

Drake sighs, “No. I haven’t been able to get near him. I think he’s avoiding me.”

“How do you know?”

“I can usually barge into his room whenever I need to talk to him. Or he invites me. Suddenly his guards ignore me and tell me he’s busy all the time and to go away. I don’t blame him though, I-” he’s interrupted when the crowd begins to stir as Liam appears to address them.

Drake’s gaze follows his best friend as he strides across the room, looking confident as always. This was the first time he saw Liam since New York and he felt a pang of guilt as their eyes met briefly across the room.

It was only a moment, but the way Liam looked at him when he recognized Drake among the crowd was… cold. His kingly charm and smile faltering for a second, before he averted his gaze and composed himself, preparing to speak.

Drake and Riley stood in silence as they listened to Liam, both of them barely breathing, anxious of what Liam would say.

“–and having rescinded my engagement with Lady Madeleine, there is the matter of my taking a wife and the queen of Cordonia.”

The crowd of nobles murmur with excitement.

“As you all know Lady Riley was framed with a scandal to remove her from the list of candidates to be queen and her name has now been cleared.”

The crowd gasps and Riley can feel dozens of eyes turn towards her in anticipation.

“However,” Liam continues, “she was not the only Lady forced out of the running that night during the Coronation. Lady Olivia was also a victim of the same plot against Lady Riley. With the other ladies having conceded to Lady Madeleine prior to my choosing her that night, Lady Riley and Lady Olivia are now the only two that remain as candidates to be queen, and if she will have me, I would like to ask Lady Olivia to be my wife and Queen.”

A wave of gasps and chatter resonate throughout the palace. Riley glances over at Olivia, whose eyes were widened in surprise, jaw dropped open. Their eyes meet and she mouths a, “What is going on?” to Riley.

Riley musters a smile despite her shock and grief at all that’s been happening lately and nods her head toward Liam, mouthing back a, “go.”

All eyes turn towards Olivia and the people part to make a path for her to meet the King. She composes herself and plasters on one of her most lady-like smiles and almost glides toward Liam.

Riley watches as Olivia places a kiss on Liam’s cheek and she gives a few words to the public.

“At least I didn’t totally ruin things for Cordonia. Clearing my name cleared hers and now you guys have a queen.”

Drake snorts, “Yeah, another one that hates me.”

After a few more words, Liam and Olivia are set to depart, and Drake sees it as a chance to speak with him. He gives a quick goodbye to Riley and moves past groups of nobles to get to Liam. He stops in his tracks when Drake grabs his arm to get his attention.

“Hey, we need to talk,” Drake says under his breath. He follows Liam’s gaze which was looking past him, and Drake turns around to find Riley behind him.

“You two certainly don’t waste time, do you,” he says coldly, brushing Drake’s hand away as he hurried towards the door with Olivia. Guards had already blocked the way before Drake could get another word in.

Liam is alone in his chambers, removing all the buckles and ribbons of his formal suit, when Drake barges through his door.

“Drake! What are you–how did you get in here?”

“Your fiance’ agreed to help me get in here as a favor,” Drake shrugs.

“She hates you.”

“I guess getting engaged put her in a good mood. Plus she may have lost a bet in New York and owes me.”

Liam lets out a sharp breath and turns his back to Drake. He continues to loosen the bow around his collar.

“So, what is this? Have you come to gloat?”

“What?”

“You two were quick to be together in public.”

“Jesus, Liam, she’s still a lady of the court she had to attend and I’m always at these things for you.”

“You speak as if we’re still friends and that should matter.”

Drake shakes his head in disbelief. Liam is always so level-headed and reasonable. Rarely has he seen him like this. But he has seen him like this. Liam was still a man, and he broke down when the worst happened in his life, just like anyone else.

“Damn it, Liam, you know how hard this feelings crap is for us both, but you’re usually up to talking about it when we get pissed at each other so… I’m sorry. I am really, really sorry for what happened between you and Riley, and that it was because of me.”

His words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Liam silently, calmly removed his sash and coat jacket, folding them neatly on the foot of his bed. Drake fumbled for the right words. His mind was racing, the silence pressured him into saying anything he thought would help.

“Liam you have to know that I didn’t pursue her. I didn’t steal her from you. I didn’t even plan on liking her it all just… happened. I didn’t–”

“And yet she loves you and not me,” Liam says resentfully, finally facing Drake. His face was twisted, slowly shifting from angry to pained to broken, “all of those times we snuck away from the court to hang out together and you two were sneaking around behind my back.”

Liam turns away again and Drake’s heart sinks. His best friend can’t even look at him and it’s his fault, he thinks.

“I treated you like a brother, Drake, how could you at least not tell me?”

Drake wonders the same thing, even though his reasons at the time seemed valid.

“You were dealing with a lot, Liam. It was never a good time to even bring this mess up. And this may not be what you want to hear and it’s probably a shitty excuse but, I thought she would pick you anyway. I didn’t think it would get to this, that there was anything to tell you about.”

“And you think that makes it all okay? That you didn't know?” Liam whirls around, pointing a finger at Drake.

“No, of course not I’m just explaining that–”

“Did you sleep with her? While I was courting her? While there were nights when I went on and on about how I was falling in love with her?”

Drake wonders how long he’s been holding onto that thought. How it must have eaten at him thinking that it had gotten that far right under his nose.

“What? No. No. Liam I wouldn’t dare. You’re my best friend. I fell for her, yes, but I wasn’t going to make a mess of things by taking it that far before we spoke.”

Liam studies him, an unreadable expression on his face, “I don’t believe it.”

“What?”

“You’re claiming you what, kept her at arm’s length? Yet she fell in love you. You must have done something.”

Drake can feel his frustration boil into anger. How could Liam accuse him of lying to him?

“We talked! All those times you asked me to look after her and we would just talk and we got to know each other, that’s it,” Drake says grabbing his arm, imploring him to listen, “We care about you, Liam, we wouldn’t do this to you on purpose! I’m sorry it happened and that it happened this way. I was prepared to let her go and be with you if that was what she wanted.”

He know he’s hurt Liam beyond measure. Though he hopes he could at least ease the pain and reassure his friend that it wasn’t a malicious move against him. That he always thought of Liam first, even if he wanted to be with Riley with every part of his being.

“Intent doesn’t matter, Drake,” Liam yanks his arm away from Drake, “I looked like a fool down on one knee, prepared to give my life to a woman who didn’t love me.”

Drake winces at the bitterness and grief in his voice. The silence that follows seems to last an eternity.

“I’m sorry. All I can say now is I’m sorry,” he pleads, reaching for Liam again.

“Get your hands off me!” Liam shoves Drake away and he stumbles backward.

"Go ahead!” he yells back, “Yell at me some more if you want, punch me in the face if you need to, I probably deserve it, come on.”

Drake is egging him on, hoping that if words couldn’t get through, maybe getting Liam to express it this way would help.

“I just might if you don’t get out of my face, Drake,” Liam warns.

“Do it, come on!”

Liam squares his shoulders and his chest puffs out as he takes a step towards Drake. His fist clenches at his side, and in the next moment, releases.

Liam shakes his head, “Just go, Drake. Please.”

Drake frowns. He turns to leave, giving up hope that this would get anywhere. He thinks about how admirable his friend is. How, if the tables were turned, he would’ve taken that punch, and now he feels worse knowing that even when his friend was broken, he refused to hurt others. Drake stops at the door.

“No. I am not leaving until we sort something out. I’ll be damned if I let you do this again.”

“Do what,” Liam scoffs.

“Disappear! Retreat into yourself. You locked yourself away when there was that attempt on your life years ago and I know you. You’re going to do it all again because we hurt you and you don’t know how to deal with it. You have been a brother to me, Liam, so I will always be here for you, too. I’m not leaving.”

Liam faces Drake, his anger waning. Liam is exhausted from all of the pain and resentment. He rubs his temples and walks over to the mini-bar in the corner of his chambers. Liam pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one to Drake as he gulps down the other.

They both sit on the edge of Liam’s bed for a long time, drinking whiskey.

“I know you two didn’t mean to,” Liam says, breaking the silence.

Drake is almost unsure of what he heard and looks at Liam in surprise.

“I told Riley that day that as upset as I am, I’m… happy for you both. I’m happy for you, Drake. You have always been there for me through all of these courtly functions. You tolerate it all and watch the world revolve around me. You deserve your own happiness.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Drake smiles. He’s glad Liam is so forgiving, but it always makes him feel worse at the same, “and thank you.”

“I just need time to adjust to the idea of you two. You understand, I hope.”

“Of course,” he says, clapping Liam on the shoulder.

Liam smiles at that, and he returns the gesture, “Still, I hope you would be willing to be my best man when I get married?”

Drake scoffs, “Olivia would kill you.”

“I’m sure you’d enjoy her disappointment anyway. She’ll understand.”

They laugh.

“Seriously though, Liam. Me? Would they even let you? I’m not–”

“I am the King, and I can have my best friend by my side as my best man.”

Drake chuckles and raises his glass to Liam, “So be it.”

#oh look a fic iasdofasoij #drake walker #king liam the sexy #trr #playchoices #my fic #request #hc request #fic request #runs away #wow am i uncertain i got any of this shit right lol have fun with this blather

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wri0thesley · 7 years ago

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Can this brown anon get some hc's about how Abbacchio, Doppio/Diavolo, Diego, Dio, Gyro, Jolyne and Rohan would react to racism being directed at their s/o of color? How would they handle the racist asshole and how would they take care of their s/o afterwards? Requesting this for self-indulgent reasons and some self-care. Thank you in advance

under the cut for you friend in case of sensitive material!

i ummed and ahhed about whether i was comfortable writing this but just so everyone’s aware a disclaimer that i am Very White and have never experienced racism

there are pretty short because there were a lot of characters but there’s a few sentences down here for each!

Abbacchio is merciless. He’s a gangster, after all, and he’s been through a lot since joining Passione - his s/o is his moon in a dark sky, the reason he drags himself through his day to day life, and anyone who dares make them cry or unhappy is going to be dealt with by him. He might not have a combatant stand, but he’s the strongest of all of Bruno’s gang - a beating from him is going to smart and sting. He’ll gladly do it in front of his s/o, too; the sooner they’re put in their place, the better. Abbacchio might not be good at words - comforting doesn’t come easily to him - but he’ll show his s/o how he feels about them with his actions.

Doppio seems shy and sweet at first, but beneath that veneer is dark steel. Beneath that veneer is the same heart that formed Diavolo. If he’s with his s/o, his grip tightens on their arm and he warns them to stay away for a little while - when he emerges from the dark alley the offenders have been dragged into, there’s a splash of blood on his face and a satisfied smile that’s entirely at odds with his friendly face. “They won’t bother you again, amore,” he says, smiling, “they’ve learnt to keep their filthy mouths shut.”

Diavolo can’t do anything at first, because he doesn’t leave his dark rooms. But if his s/o comes in with tears in their eyes, his own gaze narrows and anybody who’s gotten on the wrong side of his s/o is going to find themselves in a very bad position. He isn’t above using his power for petty means, and a man as powerful as Diavolo has a squad of assassins beneath him and easy means to identify who’s made his s/o upset. He’s not comforting by nature, but he understands what it’s like to be scorned. His soothing is a reminder of how much better than them his s/o is.

Diego is quick to be angered. He does his best to try and remain level-headed and calm - his eventual desire to go into politics means he really ought to - but his temper doesn’t allow it. He’s the first to turn and scream, face twisting - don’t they know who they are? He walks up to them, jabbing their finger into their chest - are they jealous because they’ll never find themselves anyone half as beautiful? Are they aware that nobody gives a fuck about their shitty opinion? He might only punch them once, but it’s a punch with animal anger behind it and it’s enough to knock them out cold. Sneer on his face, Diego leaves their crumpled form on the floor and puts an arm around his s/o. “Pay no attention to that classless trash,” he says, “I’m the only one around here with an opinion that matters.” His eyes soften as he looks at his s/o. “And you know how I feel about you.”

Dio grew up in a climate where racism was slightly more commonplace, but he would never have been so foolish as to simply dismiss someone for the colour of their skin. His s/o has been chosen above all others as someone worthy as standing beside him as almost an equal, and he will not tolerate rudeness or aggression towards them. Anybody who gets onto the wrong side of his s/o will not be given the time to apologize; they’ll be disposed of, quickly and painfully. If he sees it’s bothering his s/o, he takes their chin in his hand. “You’re beautiful, and wonderful, and powerful,” he murmurs, “you’ll stand beside me as my partner and everyone will worship you, the way you deserve.”

Gyro, hearing whispering about the colour of his s/o’s skin and what somebody like him is doing with somebody like them, turns to look at the faces of those who’d dare say anything. At first, there’s a faint smile on his face, and his tone is jovial when he asks what they’re talking about - as they stutter and stumble when confronted with him, though, his eyes burn fire. An easy laugh turns quickly into a hand against a throat - “Don’t you dare ever say something like that again,” he hisses, grip tightening, “the only scum here is you.” Later on, he pulls his s/o into him and presses kisses along their cheeks. “I’m sorry that people like that exist, amore,” he murmurs, “you just need to know how much more than them you’re worth.”

Jolyne’s very easy to anger. She adores her s/o beyond all reason, and she wouldn’t be able to let anything being said about them just roll over her head - even if her s/o goes to cling her arm and mumble, “Don’t, Jojo, leave it, they’re not worth it–”, she’s going to be shouting back at them, face twisted in anger, throwing cusses and the finger at them no matter how hard or frightening they may look. If they retaliate, she’ll gladly fight for her s/o’s honour - later, as her s/o is fussing over her bloody nose, she says “Yeah, but babe! Did you see what a state everyone fucking else was in?” Softening, she touches her s/o’s arm. “None of it’s true, y’know? You’re an angel. I love you.”

Rohan thinks everything about his s/o is beautiful - the way colours look against their skin, the curves of their body, the colour of their hair and eyes … and he does not take kindly to his tastes being criticised. He’s not as quick to jump to violence as some of the others, but he’s quick to jump to using his acid tongue to whip them into shape. Anything that’s said about his s/o’s physical looks is returned with cutting retorts about their personality, their family, their clothes. Rohan is petty, but he doesn’t’ stoop to the same lows. His sharp tongue is more than enough to reduce people to tears. When he takes his s/o home, he shows them an album of photographs he’s taken, sincerity in his eyes; “You’re beautiful. Look at you. You trust me, don’t you?”

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo headcanons #racism for ts #leone abbacchio #vinegar doppio #diavolo #diego brando #dio brando #gyro zeppeli #jolyne cujoh #rohan kishibe

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moiraineswife · 7 years ago

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can you pls make a post abt your autistic nesta headcanon :o

Suuuure friend. It’s kinda personal in the sense that, like, this isn’t an argument for canon it’s just…where I see autistic things in Nesta/things that I’ve chosen to interpret/headcanon as autistic things. So this isn’t an attempt to “convince” anyone that she’s autistic it’s more just…An interesting way of twisting the canon a little bit for the sake of some headcanoned autistic rep. (But like I do love this hc so much, u can pry it from my cold, dead hands, I will talk about it endlessly, it’s great.)

Okay this is literally just going to be like…a list of things Nesta does that are so much more interesting to me when viewed through an autistic lens SO, onwards and upwards. This is long btw, and pretty messy?? Things are roughly sectioned out but also not really. #ITried.

-Poor at readingpeople’s intentions/non-verbal communication:

See: the argument with Feyre at the beginning of ACOTAR.Feyre is being practical and factual when she tells Nesta why she won’t be ableto marry Tomas Mandras as she wants to because his family can’t afford it. Nestadoesn’t see what she’s actually projecting/intending and assumes that she’strying to hurt her/hit her where it hurts the most (Nesta feeling like a burden to those around her, which is a massive insecurity of hers) so she snaps back. She takesin the content of Feyre’s words and nothing else, slapping her owninterpretation over them and responding in a way she thinks is appropriate.

Also:

Teasing my sister,poking fun at her … I snatched a seat at Nesta’s side and murmured, “They meanwell.”

This bit I enjoy for two reasons a)- more proof Nesta doesn’tunderstand people’s intentions (which explains so much more why she goes on thedefensive about everything – she doesn’t get tone or body language orintention, she just goes purely on the content of what people are saying to herand if it sounds bad she takes it that way and assumes they’re trying to hurther, regardless of how it’s actually meant)

b)- the relationshipdevelopment between Feyre and Nesta. Feyre now understands Nesta better andknows how she tends to respond to things like this and so she quietly explainswhat Nesta can’t pick up on herself and reassures her that the Circle aren’treally mocking her, they’re more…including her? But it takes Feyre explainingthat for her to get it.

-0 concept of socialprotocols/rules. Like literally fucking none.

See: “Nesta only said,“Why do your eyes glow?” Little curiosity—just a blunt need for explanation.’

[…]

“They neverdared ask me that, either.”“Why.”“Because it is not polite to ask—and they are afraid.”

Never in all her days has anyone asked Amren that becausea)- it’s not polite and b)- they can pick up on the Do Not Do This vibe Amrengives off. Nesta gets none of that. She has a question. She asks it. No frills,no mess, no fuss. The autistic way. Lucien is literally having a heart attackin the background, Feyre and Rhys aren’t breathing but Nesta isjust…Completely chilled because she genuinely doesn’t get why this might be abig deal.

(And the fact that she actually asks why no-one in the who knows how many years Amren has beenalive also implies this lack of social knowledge and understanding. Not onlydoes she blurt out the question in the first place without thought but she hasto ask why no-one else has ever thought to probe Amren on this because she still hasn’t picked up on the atmosphereof ‘girl pls stop ur going to get murdered’ that’s going around the room. She doesn’t understand that she’s crossed a line here and is being impolite, genuinely. She was curious. She asked a question - one that no-one’s ever asked before, which baffles her because, as far as she’s concerned, it’s a pretty practical/intuitive question like come on people why is no-one asking this?)

And:

“What do you want?” I felt the blow like a punch to my gut.“At least immortality hasn’t changed some things about you.” Nesta’s look was nothing short of icy. “Is there a purpose to this visit, ormay I return to my book?”

You can read this asher being mean or deliberately pushing Feyre away but based on previously citedevidence this is just…Nesta, to me? There’s this constant focus on pragmatismand purpose with her and this is just…Kinda like the Amren thing, a bluntattempt at understanding something she doesn’t –ie why her sister has come tosee her/if she needs/wants anything.

It’s practical, like her questioning Amren. The “emotional aspect”(for lack of a better phrase) the curiosity/the cruelty is missing. All there isis a blunt need for explanation. I don’t think she’s trying to hurt Feyre Ithink she’s just blunt and has no concept of social rules and why this Isn’tThe Done Thing. There are a lot of social niceties required here and Nestadoesn’t get/do any of them.

She’s reading, Feyreinterrupts, she assumes there’s a reason for this and she wants to know if sheneeds anything and if not if she can go back to her book. This comes across ashurtful to Feyre because she doesn’t get the way Nesta processes interactions. ToNesta this isn’t rude or cruel it’s just…Practical. It’s a fairly simple Aleads to B leads to C type pattern of thinking that misses out the socialfrills and expectations that most people have to…Hide the A leads to B leadsto C pattern of their own interactions because simply saying exactly what you feel/think in situations like this can come across as rude or cold.

-Difficulty socialising/interactingwith people:

-The bluntness is an aspect of this but Nesta isn’t exactlythe world’s biggest people person. She only really has Elain (likely becauseshe understands her and has learned to read her/understand her so she’s comfywith her – Elain gets Nesta in a way I don’t think anyone else truly does – noteven Feyre, (see: the way that Elain goes to Nesta after her and Feyre’sargument in ACOTAR. Fandom condemns her for “siding” with Nesta over Feyre, but Ithink it’s because Elain understands that Nesta was deeply hurt, which was why shelashed out, something that Feyre does not notice) so Nesta is more comfortablearound her)

-Nesta also seems to have trouble making and keeping friends. She’sconstantly shown as being isolated and alone in ACOTAR. When Feyre returns tothe manor it’s clear that Elain has slotted back into the noble social circles again but Nestahasn’t. She’s withdrawn from their friends, the staff, from everyone, really, and Elain comments:

“She hardlytalks to anyone, and I feel wretched when my friends pay a visit, because shemakes them so uncomfortable when she stares at them in that way of hers …”

Part of this has to do with Tomas’ recent assault and herdeliberately distancing herself from other people. But Nesta making peopleuncomfortable and ‘staring in that way of hers’ are totally autistic things,especially the staring. Autistic people can have some issues with eye contact; either making too much or too little. Nesta is on the ‘too much’ side of things(this is something she does quite a lot, too, it’s not a one-off thing, as implied by ‘that way of hers’ and the fact we see her do things like this several times in canon).

-The only time we ever see Nesta fully relaxed is when she’sbeen on her own, reading in the library in the House of Wind. She’s not aroundother people and she doesn’t have to try and figure out protocols and shit, shecan just be. (There’s an argument to be made here for sensory things too –librariesare typically quiet, comfortable places that don’t have many things in the wayof uncomfortable sensory things that can overwhelm, they’re safe spaces for autistics in that regard. But more on that later) Assoon as people reappear, she instantly and visibly tenses up again.

Also this line like just…speaks to me:

“You don’t mind fixingthe wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is whereyou draw your line?”

Because…Yup. What Feyre is asking Nesta to do,essentially, is be at the centre of social attention, which is obviouslysomething she’s not super comfortable with. Nesta doesn’t like feeling out ofcontrol of herself and in a situation like the one Feyre is suggesting, whenshe’s poor at communicating with people and reading them, this automatically puts her on her offfoot, which she doesn’t like. It also puts her in a new place in a room full of strangers she has never met before and is in no way comfortable with, which is yet another autistic related thing that would put her off this kind of thing.

(putting in a cut for length, more of the same below)

Black and whitethinking

-This describes Nesta’s attitude towards…Pretty mucheverything but it’s a fairly common autistic trait too? Seeing things in veryblack or white/right or wrong type standards and struggling with abstracts. Autistics tend to have their own sets of Rules and it crosses over into that idea as well. Italso applies to the way she is with Feyre in ACOTAR. It’s all very pragmaticand very stark and clear-cut as far as she’s concerned:

“But I knew—with asudden, uncoiling clarity—that Nesta would buy Elain time to run. Not myfather, whom she resented with her entire steely heart. Not me, because Nestahad always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, andthat I could fight my own battles. But Elain, the flower-grower, the gentleheart … Nesta would go down swinging for her.”

There’s a lot of stuff in here I’ll pick through bit by bit inthis context.

First that pragmatism, that black and whiteness, in Nestaknowing that Feyre doesn’t need her and is capable of fighting her own battles (not just in this instance).Nesta doesn’t waste time making a show of things or pretending. It’s quitesimple. Elain needs her; Feyre does not – Elain is where she directs her focusand attention. Nesta dedicates herself fully to one thing, the thing sheactually needs to do, rather than tearing her attention between two differentthings when one isn’t necessary in apractical sense.

This also ties in a bit with the socialniceties/expectations thing because the kind of socially acceptable thing herewith regards to Feyre hunting/looking after herself is to fluff things up and‘oh Feyre, shall I help you?’ and offer even if she knows it’s going to berejected – which it would be, because Feyre doesn’t need her help and wouldtell her that. (Incidentally, that rejection would also reinforcing the fact that Nesta is of no real use around the house/in terms of keeping them alive).

Nesta is perfectly aware of this and doesn’t see the pointin wasting time/words asking when she already knows the answer (and has done for like…five solid years at this point) – even though it’d bemore ‘polite’ of her to do so and be refused because then it shows she cares.

Social rules are what dictates this way of showing you care, however. To Nesta this is just an entirely empty and pointless gesture. Black and whitelogic dictates that Feyre can take care of herself so Nesta dutifully turns herattentions elsewhere to where she’s actually needed – in this case it’sprotecting Elain.

When Feyre does need her, however, such as when she’s beentaken by Tamlin, but Elain is comfortable and safe, Nesta moves heaven andearth for Feyre while leaving Elain to her own devices – this is not anElain-exclusive attitude; it’s just the way she is. The same way that she protects Cassian at the end of ACOWAR, and the way she agrees to put herself in a situation she was deeply uncomfortable with (sharing her story with the High Lords) and becoming the human’s emissary because she did not want them to be forgotten. Nesta, like Cassian just fuelled by wildly different motives, protects those who cannot protect themselves; and leaves those that can to do so.

-Then there’s the other aspect to this black and whitenessin the way Nesta views the world and those in it – for example how she sees herfather. Her morality/sense of good and bad is shaped a lot by this kind of thinking too. There isn’t anything tempering her resentment or her hatred of her father in her eyes. Hedid bad; he’s a bad person, she rejects him, it’s as simple as that. He let hermother die, he lets them starve, he doesn’t even try. Line crossed. Caseclosed. She hates him, fully and completely without any mitigation, end ofstory. (And her feelings here are entirely valid, I am in no way saying thatthis is the ‘wrong’ way of viewing things, it’s just Nesta’s way, and she’scompletely and utterly entitled to it.)

-I’m also using this to aggressively explain away the endingof ACOWAR and the horror show that is Nesta’s conflict with regards toher father. Things are very easy for her to work out while they’re in simpleblack and white/good and bad terms. Her father continues letting them starveand never tries for them, that makes it very easy to consider him as bad andmove on with life. He never does anything to contradict that; there are noconfusing good actions blended in with the bad to swing her focus/feelings. Whenthings become more complicated she struggles with the abstracts. When herfather brings ships named after his daughters to help them and dies right infront of her supposedly defending her this muddies her previously crystal clearwaters.

She has all of this hate and resentment that she’s had forall these years and it makes it impossible to just shift gears and consider himas good because he’s done this good thing for her now. He’s a mix of good andbad now, she has good and bad ‘evidence’ for her feelings towards himand she can’t cope. There’s no easy way to quantify this and put it in a nice,neat little box of ‘good’ or ‘bad’ ‘hate’ or ‘love’ and she gets conflicted andconfused and upset as a result because she can’t work out her own feelings(also an autistic thing) because things aren’t simple stark concepts anymore. She has almost a decade of bad things, but his last act was a good one, and this makes it difficult for her in the absolute way she sees things because suddenly he isn’t an absolute any more and she can’t process it.

-Also, as I said, this is pretty much Nesta in a nutshell.She deals with things in very definite black and white extremes most of thetime. An answer is either yes or it’s no, the word ‘maybe’ does not exist inNesta’s vocabulary.

“What happened toTomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled.“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.”And for her, with that raging, unrelenting heart, it would have been a line inthe sand.

Earlier on in the book Nesta stated that she loved Tomas.Whether she did or not is debatable but she was fully ready to move out of thecottage and marry him and she pulls a complete U-turn on that because of thisone realisation – a realisation, moreover, that’s based fully on this idea ofcommitment and the black and white nature she sees the world and how she drawslines in the sand with people. This one ‘bad’ action alters her feelings towards him from being willing to marry him, to leaving him on the spot. She deals in absolutes. It’s how she sees and weighs the world and those in it.

Dislike of change:

-Nesta handles both the death of her mother and the loss oftheir fortune arguably much worse than either of her sisters. Feyre knucklesdown and lives in the moment, Elain looks forwards to a brighter future. Nestagets stuck in the past. These are two massive, massive changes and she doesn’tadapt well to either of them.

She blames and hates her father for her mother’s death andnot doing more to save her (more black and white extremes in there (though alsoa fairly typical reaction to grief/loss, but the extent Nesta takes it to andthe sheer absoluteness that she looks on it with still strikes me. She doesn’tonly condemn her father for this she hates him for it with every inch of herbeing)) and she continues to act like a noble lady even when she lives in arun-down hovel and associates with peasants as opposed to nobility, and hasdone for years. She doesn’t adapt well at all, she continues to live in andlong for the past and she refuses to properly transition into their new life.

But she can’t slot back into her old life either once shegets it back, either, because that’s another change and another upheaval. She becomesisolated, pushes people away, and can’t stomach the social niceties andsmothering rules that come with those social circles and way of life. She does not fit and she cannot adapt in the seamless way that Elain and her father do with the sudden change of their fortunes. She again remains stuck in the past (quite literally, since she fights the glamour and remembers what happened while no-one else does)

This pattern of her isolating herself when she can’t copewith changes is pretty common, too? She does the same thing after her Making. Ialso think that she projects being more okay with what happened than sheactually is. Nesta has this need to feel in control of herself and when shedoesn’t I think she projects this feeling of being in control even more thanusual in order to try and feel that. But I don’t think she adjusted as well asshe appears to have done, and I think there are hints at that but I won’t gointo all of them here, it’s too long and not relevant enough to delve into.

She does isolate herself again, though. As she did in the cabin, as she did returning to the manor. She doesn’t really try andactively engage with her new life she just keeps doing what she does; same patterns, different setting. Shedoesn’t try to get to know the Circle or explore Velaris or integrate herselfinto being fae. She remains wearing her old human clothes, doing the things shewould have done as a human, like sitting alone in the library and reading. Sherefuses to train with Cassian and she refuses to acknowledge her new abilitiesor work with them because these things are new and different and overwhelming.

She clings to the past again. She continues wearing her olddresses and doesn’t change into things more appropriate to the fae world. Sheeven turns up to training and tramps around war camps in her typical dressesbecause they’re familiar and comfortable. (wearing the same clothes over andover again is also a pretty common autistic thing in itself, hence the focus on it)

The human worldalso remains at the forefront of her thoughts – she remembers to compare thefood the first time she eats with Feyre and the others and she names herself anambassador for the human realm and declares that she hasn’t forgotten them.

Prioritising actionsover words/disliking social niceties:

I’ve kind of mentioned this already but this is in aslightly different vein. Nesta is very actionorientated. She shows how she feels about people in the things that she does,not what she says. She’s very straightforward and I think one of the reasonsshe comes off so poorly is that she puts all of her efforts into doing things (see: the whole going tothe wall thing for Feyre) but she doesn’t back it up with social niceties. (I talked about this earlier; Nesta is living in a world that operates under different social rules to everyone else. Typical social rules dictate that social niceties are a way to come across well and caring - such as offering to help even when she knows it’d be rejected. Nesta doesn’t demonstrate her caring in that way, but she does demonstrate it - in her own way, in terms that she understands and responds to)

Nesta doesn’t soften herself or attempt to be somethingshe’s not; she doesn’t try and charm people with sweet, flowery words the waythat Elain can, she isn’t made that way. She comes off as cold and rude when inactual fact she just isn’t burying what she says under sixteen layers ofexhausting social protocols that she doesn’t understand.

Nesta just is. She’s just unapologetically herself(which, in the context of this hc, I adore, because so many people, girls especially, miss out ondiagnoses because they force themselves to learn to appear more socially adeptthan they feel/with what lines up with their experiences with people becauseit’s expected for girls to be soft and polite, and very well-mannered and Nestadoesn’t do that. She is unapologetically herself. She places no stock or valuein social niceties and she doesn’t bother wasting time on them or mincing herwords to try and appease those around her when she just doesn’t get it/care forit herself)

“ I never have togo back to those sycophantic fools over the wall. I get to do as I wish, sinceapparently no one here has any regard for rules or manners or ourtraditions.”

There’s a couple of things in here – one the ‘sycophanticfools’ comment which implies what I was saying about her disregard for socialniceties and that forced, excessive politeness that’s common in high societycircles. In her culture this is just the way that people are and the way theytypically communicate and behave but Nesta refers to them as ‘sycophantic fools’because she isn’t operating under the same rules as they are and just sees themas pandering and false which she dislikes. I can’t see Nesta being particularlyadept at that and I can see her accidentally offending people with the way sheis, awkward silences and shutting down of conversations and completely missing out all of the fluttery, excessive politeness that’sexpected of ladies of her station.

Also the slightly negative connotation in ‘apparently no-onehere has any regard for rules or manners or our traditions’ – implying that shedoes. Autistics tend to be quite rule orientated and routine orientated too,both of which get covered by ‘rules and traditions’ here. Even if they arearchaic and backwards and limiting due to her gender, she finds the completelack of them distasteful/negative because it means there’s no order and nostructure in this world, which doesn’t fully sit right with her.

-Empathy/Emotions:

Autistic people tend to have variations in this (notnecessarily always less than allistics) they can either be hypoempathetic (lessthan typical) or hyperempathetic (more than typical) in different ways. Thereare different types of empathy, believe it or not: cognitive empathy, which isbeing able to understand/know what someone is feeling without them telling them,usually via non-verbal communication, things like tone, body language etc(Nesta, with her poor reading of people’s intentions and body language etc would,arguably, have less than normal cognitive empathy) Same with affective empathywhich is basically, you feel the same emotion you’ve identified in someone – ifthey’re sad, you get empathetically sad too. Nesta doesn’t seem to have a hugeheaping of this either (she has a lot of intense feelings, but they don’tnecessarily mirror the people around her), so she’s hypoempathetic when itcomes to cognitive and affective empathy, as far as my headcanon goes.

She seems to have a fair amount of compassionate empathy,however, to the point of perhaps having too much. Compassionate empathy is,basically, the desire to help people if they’re having problems. She leapfrogsover the non-verbal understanding of what someone is feeling, and she doesn’tempathetically feel what they feel either, but the depth to which she feels theneed to help people is definitely in there. See: the scene where she begs thequeens to give up the book to Rhys and Feyre and the scene where she tellsCassian that she can’t leave him on the battlefield, and the lengths she goesto to try and help Feyre after Tamlin takes her away etc etc etc.

Nesta is said many, many times to feel things a lot moredeeply than those around her. This is, as far as I’m aware, a fairly commonautistic experience, especially because she’s very poor at showing it. In theWings and Embers short she thinks to herself:

‘She felt it all—tookeenly, too sharply. Hated and cared and loved and dreaded, more than otherpeople, she sometimes thought. Could sift between them all in a matter ofmoments, like she was trying on different sets of clothes, and no one couldtell or care.’

In addition to the depth of feeling thing, the no-onenoticing how she feels is pretty telling. Autistics struggle to read otherpeople but can also suffer from people struggling to read them in turn, whichis something I think Nesta gets a lot of since she feels these things so, sodeeply but no-one ever notices it and she gets brushed off as beingcold/withdrawn (also common to autistics) when in actual fact she’s the preciseopposite. She just doesn’t communicate it in the same was as everyone else, sounless they know her very well and/or are very socially switched on (ie Cassianand Elain) they don’t notice and don’t understand her.

-‘Learning’ bodylanguage/social rules:

-There are a few places where Nesta seems to be reasonablysocially adept – I’m thinking Wings and Embers where she correctly hits onCassian’s sore points but I don’t think this disproves this headcanon. Autistics are capable ofunderstanding and reading body language it’s just not something that’sinnate/built-in. But there’s nothing to stop them learning it. A lot ofautistics learn how to ‘pass’ as neurotypical (sometimes evenunintentionally/unconsciously, they do so to try and fit in) by activelylearning to read those around them (which is why some autistics are good withinteracting with people that they know, but struggle a lot with strangers) andlearning social rules and mimicking those around them. The way that Nestawatches Cassian and has to work to consciously gauge his reaction to her inWings and Embers is telling.

Also this scene:

‘Nesta was watching the volley of words as if it were a sporting match,eyes darting between us. She didn’t reach for any food, so I took theliberty of dumping spoonfuls of various things onto her plate.’

This is the first time that Nesta has interacted with thegroup as a whole. She doesn’t engage with them or join in their conversation(and even when she fleetingly does, she only really talks to Feyre, her sister,who she’s obviously more comfortable with) otherwise she just sits and watchesthem, figuring out how they work, how to read them, how to interact with them. It’sall this conscious process of working people out and understanding them whenthey’re in this new casual setting.

-Misc bits and bobs:

-I can make an argument for Nesta being touchaverse/sensitive. Feyre comments that she’s never been physically affectionatewith her sister. When she and Nesta quietly talk over triggers and Feyre isreassuring/comforting her she does this:

“Iknew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’llinstall something else for you.”

Feyre doesn’t attempt to physicallycomfort Nesta since she knows that won’t go down well. (As an aside, thisdoesn’t get discounted by the Nessian moments a)- Most of the time Nestainitiates their contact and b)- sensory sensitives are weird and with touch,having specific people be exceptions to the rule isn’t uncommon)

-@blogtealdeal gets credit for coming up with thissuggestion but the hc Nesta was reading the romance books that seemed souncharacteristic for her, according to Cassian, being her ‘researching’ romanceand trying to get a better handle on how to handle her relationship with Cassis my new favourite thing ever. If she were doing this it’d be a form ofscripting which is basically rehearsing an interaction before it happens. It alsospeaks to Nesta’s general ‘wtfness’ when it comes to relationships with otherpeople and her attempts at learning them through books is understandable.

- ‘Teaching Nestato paint was about as pleasant as I had expected it to be […] Supplies wereeasy enough to come by, but explaining how I painted, convincing Nesta toexpress what was in her mind, her heart … At the very least, she repeated mybrushstrokes with a precise and solid hand.’

Imagining things/thinking in pictures is something some autisticscan struggle with. Nesta doesn’t actually put what’s in her mind down when shepaints, she just copies Feyre’s exact brushstrokes and does what she does. (Kindalike the whole scripting/mimicking fiction thing from her romance reading) Translatingher feelings to paintings/expressing herself in that way is something she alsoseems to struggle a lot with. Trouble pinning down feelings exactly/knowingexactly what you’re feeling is also an autistic experience, it’s called alexithmyaand it’s something I can see Nesta experiencing without too much effort (especially with the Wings and Embers quote being taken into account as well).

Finally, This:

Amren nodded, more toherself than anyone. “You did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. Thepath you were born upon and forced to walk.You tried, and yet you did not, could not, fit. And thenthe path changed.” A little nod. “I know—what it is to be that way. I rememberit, long ago as it was.”

This is just….The most autistic thing I have ever witnessedin my entire existence. That idea of not fitting, of trying to but not beingable to, of not being able to fit the expected moulds…And Nesta didn’t? Alsothe fact that Amren didn’t fit with the members of her kind because she feltthings differently to them and perceived and understood the world differentlyto them reinforces this parallel with Nesta being an autistic human whoperceived the world differently to those around her and engaged with itdifferently as well, therefore never quite fitting in.

(It’s also my headcanon (pure headcanon, as most of this is)to explain why Nesta appears to adjust much better to being Made Fae than Elaindoes. In spite of her struggling with the dramatic change, the actual Making she seems to accept better than her younger sister. She’s spent her entire life not quite fitting in and not quite belonging tothe people around her – this is not a new experience for her as it is forElain, who has always been very comfortable in herself/her interactions withothers)

I’m going to wrap this up here or I could genuinely go on forever. Like I said at the beginning of this, none of this is me trying to “””prove””” that Nesta actually is autistic/was deliberately written that way. This is just…An elaborate hc that I have and the above is like…the intricate details of said hc, I’m not trying to say this is the way she should be read/was intended to be read it’s just…An interesting way to choose to read her for the sake of some (really good) rep.

TL;DR: Nesta is my beautiful autistic daughter and this hc delights me. Enjoy.

#nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #feyre #elain archeron #acowar #acomaf #acotar #acotar series #acotar meta #nesta meta #my meta #nesta headcanons #my headcanons #autistic!nesta #autistic headcanons #answered #lauren answers #idddkkk how much i'll get into debate over this like i'm not.....really all that here for this being shot down/argued??#autistic characters/rep is SO hard to come by and like...i'm not saying you have to agree with any of this?#it's just generally considered a dick move to take away people's headcanon rep when it comes to this sort of thing ya know?#also: fun game now that i have like Exposed myself with this: how many autistic!Nesta moments has Lauren squished into fic recently #the answer is: lots. the answer is: whole fics have been written entirely surrounding this premise/emphasising aspects of it #BECAUSE I LOVE IT SO FUCKING MUCH OKAY #i'm gonna get down off my soap box now #enjoy #autstic nesta #do not get me started on this in the context of nessian because it is Too Fucking Good #and i will never stop talking #(like rlly if u keep poking me about this..stuff will keep coming out i'm obsessed i love it)

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pointedly-foolish · 6 years ago

Text

[ dσn’t run frσm mє rívєr ]

word count: 2605

pairing: upgraded connor | rk900/gender-neutral!reader

genre: hurt/comfort

so he requested to change partners. now, he really wished he didn’t.

the alleyway wasn’t the cleanest of places, but it was private and quiet enough that the two could converse verbally. connor watched his younger brother, concern in his eyes, and tentatively threaded the topic of his relationship with you. nines squinted his eyes fractionally as he observed his brother, pausing before dismissing anything connor may have assumed: « i don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate. the older model raised a brow in as he doubted his younger counterpart’s words. – you’ve been scowling at them for the past few minutes. – everything is perfectly fine between me and the detective. he forced out, probably more defensive and harsh than he meant it to be, as his brother’s eyes widened slightly, flashing with something akin to recognition. there was a pause before connor spoke up. – are you… jealous? he finally asked. »

nines looked a bit more than scandalised as the thought of being jealous, face contorted to slight disgust: « that’s preposterous. he scoffed. jealous? jealous of what? connor thought back about the scene before he intervened: nines was glaring intensely at you and colin, just after you laughed at one of his quips. – well for one, of collin. how he managed to get [ ᶠᴵᴿˢᵀ ᴺᴬᴹᴱ ]’s attention. maybe you’re yearning for theirs, for their affection. his proposition has certainly made nines realise something as his eyes widened, making him look like a deer caught in the headlights. – what are you trying to say? his voice wavered in unsurety. – what i’m trying to say is tha— » he didn’t manage to finish his statement as another voice, not too dissimilar to his own cut him off, announcing how “nines had the hots” for you. connor looked slightly irked at being interrupted while nines quickly dismissed the statement before fully processing it. colin was slightly taken aback by the quick rejection, before smirked mischievously: « great! then you wouldn’t mind if i asked them out right? – colin! exclaimed his twin. »

yes, nines knew what dating was. he knew that if two individuals were to harbour romantic feelings for each other, they would come together and be “dating each other”. date1 /dāt/ verb gerund or present participle: dating 3. go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested). technically, it was fine. logically, it was fine. he didn’t own you. if you were to date his brother, then that would be your choice. but the thought of you being close and loving someone other than him felt so incredibly wrong. he wanted to leave. he needed to leave. this is all too much. he had feelings for you? he needed time to digest that statement. in his rush to get out, he accidentally bumped into another person, who made a small « oof » and an apology. he was about to apologise as well when you both realised who you were talking to.

« nines! i’ve been looking for you! can we… uh, talk? » he realised from this distance that he could smell your scent: lavender, fabric softener, and something pleasant that was unmistakably you. he nodded and followed you absentmindedly. how did you have this power to erase all thoughts from his mind, make him think of you and only you? has he really fallen for you? you both went outside, a distance away from the bar’s entrance when you finally restarted the conversation: « nines. – detective. » you bit your lips at that reply, and he realised now you looked tired, that radiant smile absent. « look, nines, i- i’m not blind, okay?... i-i know when someone’s avoiding me. – what do you mean detect— – i thought i told you that it was alright to call me by my first name… look, i… by “avoiding” i mean this. acting like you don’t know me. speaking to me as if we were just “coworkers”. acting like we aren’t friends. you sounded tired, the lilt in your voice that he has grown accustomed to sullen. – i’m not avoiding you. he lied, but he knew you were smarter than that. – nines please don’t lie… this distance… between us. i don’t understand, nines. your voice cracked. what happened? Why are you doing this? »

but maybe he should’ve taken the chance when it was presented to him, as he may never get one again.

you died. well, you almost did. his mind jumping to the worst case scenarios as anxiety filled his system. arrest gone wrong. gunshot. 9mm bullets embedded within your abdomen. what if it hit your vascular system? you were rushed into the er. he knew that in this profession, the chances for an individual to be shot rises. but he didn’t expect to grow so attached to one of them. so as the surgeons work to quickly remove all bullets from your body, he sat, rigid, as he waited for the procedure to be done. he fiddled anxiously with his coin when your partner placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. he mechanically glanced at its owner, who told him to not worry, that you’re “too much of a stubborn ass” to die from this event. he didn't acknowledge colin’s input as he continues to play with the quarter. he should’ve told you. told you when he had the chance.

« you’re awake. »

« thank you. »

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#detroit: become human #rk900 x reader #connor detroit: become human #rk900 detroit: become human #rk800-60 detroit:become human #apparently i can only successfully write fics during tired stupors #this fic is not my magnum opus but #im still p happy w it #idk nines as well as connor :p #just something softer than my last dbh fic lol #falsely writes #as always feebacks are appreciated #colin is definitely the annoying older brother #he'd tease nines mercilessly #connor is just tired lmfao #alternative title to this fic: connor: become interrupted

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