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bluediamonder · 5 years ago

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it was a lot more than a hug: an (unintentional) short essay on mental health & steven worm

I LOVED THE HUG OKAY.

I’ve seen a lot of people saying things like “uGh thE eNdiNG sUcKEd geTtiNg a hUG doEsN’T sOLvE aLL yOuR pRoBLeMs”. but in my opinion, that’s exactly the point.

All throughout the second half of SUF, they’re trying to show us that there is no one way to feel immediately better and have all of your problems solved. He goes to pretty much every source he can. The gems aren’t necessarily seeing what he’s going through, Connie isn’t going to solve this for him, his Dad is helping in an unhelpful way, so he goes to Jasper and that went haywire, so he goes to the diamonds and they just make it worse. And then what is he supposed to do?

Every single time Steven goes to a person to “help” him, he’s going to them seeking help in order to fix it. and there’s a big difference between the two.

I have anxiety, depression, and OCD, and often when I’m panicking or having moments of high anxiety, I do what Steven did: I seek out people not to help me, but to fix it for me. I then react the same way Steven did - with anger - when people try to help instead of just fixing it.

Anxiety, depression, panic, none of those things can be completely and magically cured and rid of in the snap of a finger. But in the moment, for people like me, for a person like Steven, the thought of that feeling not being entirely solveable is petrifying.

It’s like if someone is drowning and splashing around: you can’t get the life ring around them because of how much movement and commotion they’re creating. But they’re drowning, so you can’t just tell them “Hey, stop moving so I can help you!” From your perspective, you’re trying to help them by encouraging them to do something that will in turn allow you to help them. But to that person, if they stop flailing, they’re going to sink even further, and that is terrifying, so much so that they can’t even consider that you might be wanting to help them. All they can process is that you told them to stop doing the one thing that they don’t want to do: sink. Even if they’re sinking just for a moment, before you save them, that doesn’t matter. That feeling of sinking is terrifying, so they end up splashing around more.

When Steven seems to be babbling on, almost comedically, in “Everything is Fine”, trying to convince himself he’s fine, he’s gotten to a stage that I was in for a while, a sort of mania, where he is not only attempting to convince everyone around him that he’s fine, he has convinced himself that he is fine. This is a huge red flag for people with bipolar disorder or manic depression (NOT diagnosing Steven, I am not a professional, I’ve just experienced many of these things and been surrounded by people experiencing these things and professionals explaining them to me. Like I said, I was in the hospital for this, so). Everyone around him starts to see that he is, in fact, not fine, as they’ve already surmised. But the physical consequences of them not doing anything, not doing enough, are starting to manifest.

When he morphs into the Steven Worm, he has lost his sense of self. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, he can’t exist within himself with the world he’s created. He didn’t tell the Gems about the hospital, he didn’t tell his dad he was angry, he didn’t actually tell Connie he needed her he just proposed. He doesn’t know what to DO with all of this. So it explodes around him.

He can’t control his feelings, himself anymore. He feels he’s lost control. For me, a human, this morphs into a panic attack. But for him, he’s a gem, he turns into Steven Worm.

Not even the diamonds, the most powerful beings in the entire Gem universe, are incapable of changing him. His emotions bring White Diamond to her knees. But what they’re doing wrong here is they’re trying to fix him!

When Connie bolts in on Lion and is making her (iconic) rallying cry, she never says they need to fix Steven or heal him; she says they need to help him. Because that’s the only way he can get better.

When you go to the psychiatric hospital, you don’t go to get fixed. You’re in an environment where you’re made so you’re not a physical danger to yourself, and then you do a shit ton of work. You have therapy multiple times a day, every day, all week. You do work, they don’t just fix it for you. And this is the solution that we need to see portrayed. This is the solution they did portray in SUF.

Mental health disorders can’t be fixed. And Steven’s problems weren’t solved with a hug.

But we needed to see the hug. Because Steven needed to see the hug.

The hug wasn’t just about hugging him. It was about literally forcing him to come face-to-face with the love and support he had been inadvertenly, and then intentionally, pushing away. It forced him to say, “Okay, this is who I am right now. And these people love me.”

I had to have the people in my life tell me over and over that they loved me when I went to the hospital. I had to have my doctors tell me that they cared for me, my therapist tell me that I wasn’t talking too much, because I didn’t believe them. I had convinced myself I wasn’t worthy, I was a fraud, just like Steven. Sometimes you need that love in your face, surrounding you so that it is the only thing you can see, for you to be able to let it in.

The hug didn’t fix everything! That’s the big thing. The hug was a pure, beautiful moment, but I don’t believe it was meant to be a plot device to try to fix everything. Everyone was still emotional, he still destroyed things, he scared people, he scared himself. That wasn’t all magically fixed because of the hug. But his resolve to do the work, get help, and accept what happened to him - that is what made him go from Worm Steven to Boy Steven.

And afterward, we seen Steven has grown. He hasn’t morphed, his hair hasn’t changed, he’s not pink. But he’s grown mentally. He’s communicating more making plans, his disposition has changed.

Previously on this post, I said" I don’t like that they called what he had a meltdown (again, I vouch that it was a gem version of a panic attack)" However, I learned that this is actually a really good term to describe what Steven experienced, and as a person in my ask box (@a2Ieep) noted, could be relevant to the headcanon/idea that Steven is autistic, or at least autistic-coded, as well as his PTSD or cPTSD. None of us can diagnose Steven but that also means I shouldn't just pass off terminology like that! I realized it gave people who self-identify as autistic, the same feelings it gave me as I struggle with panic and anxiety. While we surmise different meanings from the meltdown, it was a meltdown. We all feel so touched by it, and Steven's meltdown felf like a panic attack to me, that doesn't mean it isn't a meltdown, and that it can't be meaningful to someone else with autism or PTSD. Steven's meltdown is just as meaningful to someone who has autism or PTSD, as it is to me with panic attacks. Erasure of someone else's feelings on my part was not okay, regardless of my intent or my own strength of different feelings. Plus, it was his choice to use that term. I just want to make it clear that at first I didn't like the term, but it is actually a really important term to use. I didn't expect the post to blow up like this, so I wanted to make this edit known and seen as it's a really important of this post. Thank you to everyone for understanding! And thank you to @tentacrocacles @transtistic @satoshigekk0uga @mercurialmeditator @possumpiebruh and @a2leep for sharing their feelings ans thoughts with me, which helped me to realize this and investigate and alter my own sentiments!

but YALL STEVEN HAS A THERAPIST NOW! He’s is not only getting the help that he needs, he is showing that he is going to continue needing this help, and that’s okay! He’s making plans to visit people, to go see the world, on his own terms!

He’s scared and sad of leaving the gems, and it’s also time to leave the gems. It’s time to move on, and be a new Steven.

We’ve seen a lot of Stevens the past few weeks. But Steven driving off past the Big Donut into the night was my favorite Steven. That was vulnerable Steven. That was Steven doing the work to be himself, to exist with his feelings and the ways he had acted, and the things he had gone through. That was my boy. Steven Universe.

When I saw my mom for the first time while I was in the hospital, the first thing she did was give me a big hug (I was a blubbering mess, of course). But it wasn’t just that my mom was giving me a hug. She was telling me she was there for me, she loved me, she was telling me she would stay up on the phone with me as long as the doctors would let me, she would drive 3 1/2 hours from our home in Michigan to the hospital in Ohio at a moments notice (I went to school in Ohio and went to the hospital there too before coming home). That hug was her forcing me to see that she was there for me, even if I didn’t believe it, or didn’t want to believe it.

So yeah, Steven got a hug. But it was a lot more than a hug, okay? Take my word for it

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syndxlla · 4 years ago

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More To Love

Part two of the More to Love series

Summary: As you start adapting to Mandalorian culture and life in the palace, you have to start thinking whether or not you’ve made the right decision.

Word Count: 6.2k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: Non-Consensual kiss, mentions of loss of pregnancy

Author’s Note: Wow wow wow, the support I’ve gotten for this fic already has been so awesome thank you so much especially to the people who have direct messaged me you’re all so kind I love you guys!!!!

Part One here

“Good-morning, Your Highness.” A Handmaiden said as she pulled open the heavy curtains, letting the bright morning light shine into your elegant room. You softly moan as the sun hits your eyes, and roll onto your side to try and sleep more. “Today you will be having brunch with Her Majesty the Queen and a few members of her court and we have set aside a bit of time for you and The Prince to get to each other this evening before dinner in the library.” Her accent was thick like the Prince’s. You sigh and roll around onto your back, letting your limp hand rest by your face. “I trust you slept well?” She asked as she walked towards your bed, in her hands was a golden tray with a teapot on it.

“Not enough sleep.” You groan, trying not to sound annoyed but failing.

“Would you like to sleep longer, Highness?” She asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You sigh before scooting to sit up in your bed, and she places the tray on the table by the mattress.

“I wasn’t sure what type of tea you liked, so I brought a chamomile, do you have a preference?”

You stop to think for a moment, “Chamomile is fine for today, but do you have any hsuaberry tea?” Hsuberries are native to Corellia, and you could use a little taste of home.

“I’m not sure, but I will check for tomorrow?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” You nod.

“I’ll return in a half-hour with the other maiden’s to prepare you for the day then?”

“Alright… Miss?” You stop her as she turns to leave. “Do you have a name? What can I call you?”

“Oh… of course, Lady Soniee would be fine.” She smiles. “Thank you for asking.”

“It’s my pleasure.” You smile in return. “Lady Soniee, is my guard outside?” You ask.

“Yes, he returned to his post with my arrival, in the night we have the night guards patrolling so our individual day guards get some time off.” She explains.

“Would you… Would you send him in, please?” You ask.

“Yes, Highness. Is there anything else you would like?” Soniee asks.

“No, that’s all, thank you, dismissed.” You released her from her duty and she turned to leave the room. As her back was turned to you, you rub a bit of the sleep out of your eyes and run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to tame your bed head. You wanted to look presentable for the knight. Truthfully, you haven’t quit thinking about him since last night’s endeavor. You fell asleep picturing what he looked like under his armor, and brainstorming what his name might be. You even wondered if you dreamed about him, but it’s all gotten hazy now. You knew this was inappropriate, and that you were here for your wedding with another man, but something about the secret relationship the two of you were forming was exciting, you were addicted to it. You sigh deeply as she closes the door behind her and then quickly looks down at your nightgown, proceeding to pull the cap sleeves down your shoulders a bit to show more skin and more of your collar. You laugh slightly to yourself, “You are ridiculous.” You mumble, chuckling. Before you could consider anything else, however, he walked in, his stature at attention.

“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?” He asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up in his presence, “I just wanted to thank you again for last night.” You tried not to gush as you spoke.

“Oh… Yes, anything for you, your Highness.” He nodded in response. Your chest filled with warmth as you looked at him.

“You’ll be accompanying me today, correct?” You ask.

“Of Course, Your Highness.” He nodded once again, you really wanted him to call you princess again.

“Wonderful, I hope you slept well last night.”

“I did, Princess, did you?” You smiled a little too wide at the title, and tried to cool your cheeks, not wanting to look like an absolute child in front of him.

“Yes, I did, thank you once again, I’ll see you later.” You sigh in response. “Dismissed.” That word felt like poison to you, you didn’t really want him to leave but didn’t know how to keep him around longer. This was an accident waiting to happen, and you had the power to stop it in its tracks, the only problem is that you didn’t want to.

—

The Gardens were even more beautiful in the daylight, the sun shone spectacularly off the fountains and the various statues scattered throughout the estate contrasted lovely with the bright flowers. You sat at a round table ornately decorated with various different pastries, teas and sandwiches on it. Around the table was the Queen, the women of her royal court, yourself and of course the Elf. You really wanted to speak to the elf, unfortunately, you asat across from her, and was forced to mostly converse with The Duchess Wren and another woman you had never spoken to before. The Queen introduced her to you last night but you were having a hard time remembering her name. The women weren’t in such heavy gowns this time, and none of them wore the jeweled headpieces they had on the night before except for the queen. You wore a light beige and white dress which ruffled at the sleeves and had a scooping boat neckline. It was very beautiful, however the corset back didn’t go nearly as high this time as the last dress did, which meant you couldn’t use it as an excuse to spend more time alone with the silent knight. He stood a few feet behind you away from the table, watching over the event. Every now and then you would turn to glance at him, ceiling every time you laid eyes on his armor.

The tea was fine, not as good as the winter teas you had back home, they were far more bitter. Mandalorians clearly enjoyed more bitter-tasting food as you noticed the longer you’re here. Once again, you were being mostly ignored as the Women who knew each other talked about drama within the Mandalorian Royalty. It was all much more conspicuous than anything you would talk about at home, and you found yourself quietly listening in on the various conversations instead of applying yourself to them. The women most likely thought you were some sort of strange claude, not social enough and far too boring for their culture. Again, you tried convincing yourself that you were overthinking, but you had a hard time believing yourself.

“And what about you, Your Highness?” The Elf spoke up, interrupting your deep and self-centered thoughts.

“Huh?” You were not listening.

“What do you think about the conduct to come out of Coruscant?” One of the fatter women sitting by the queen asked.

“Oh… I think they’ve rather lost their integrity since the assassination of their Emperor…” You clear your throat. You were just saying what you remember hearing your father say, attempting to fit into the conversation and hopefully gain some affection, knowing how much Mandalore despised Coruscant (you were rather indifferent, however).

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” The Queen smiled, “I believe you will be well suited for the politics of Mandalore.”

“Oh yes,” you began, “I had been preparing to be Queen of Corellia my whole life, I find politics rather exciting.” You admitted.

“Hm, I prefer to leave the politics to the men.” The fat woman scoffed and sipped her tea.

“I nearly forgot, you’re the only hair to the throne of Corellia, aren’t you?” The elven queen asks.

“Yes, I am.” You nod in response.

“Ah yes, your mother got sick and lost a baby-” The fat woman laughed. Your face dropped and went pale.

“Excuse you-” You began.

“Lady Aryn, have you no respect?” The Queen frowned.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, just a rumor I heard.” She shrugged, not seeming to care that she offended you or The Queen.

“Well it’s not a rumor.” You swallowed thickly, wanting to put her in per place for such an inappropriate comment, “My mother lost a baby when I was all but five and you have the audacity to bring it up like there’s nothing rude about it.” You spit out.

“Well who is to take the throne once you marry the Prince?” The fat woman asked as she sipped her tea. Many of the other women involved stayed quiet, timidly watching the drama play out.

“I don’t believe that is any of your business.” You chuckle out of frustration.

“It is my business, whomever rules Corellia during the impending war will directly affect how Mandalore responds to it. Considering my husband is the Grand General of the Mandalorian Army, it is very much my business.” Lady Aryn raised an eyebrow and dread washed over your body as she finished.

“I believe that your Cousin will be taking the throne?” The Elf Queen vouched for you and you were thankful she did, but still found the entire situation rude and out of hand.

“It should be me, but I’m being married off and getting my title stripped away from me.” You blurted out and immediately regretted what you said. You looked around at the faces of the women at the table. Each one showing a different expression of shock or betrayal, everyone but the Queen. The Queen’s face was stern, her lips dangerously straight and thin and her eyes dark as the two of you made eye contact. You had offended the Queen of Mandalore, you had offended the most powerful and wealthy monarch in the world. You sighed, and closed your eyes for a moment. “May I be excused, Your Majesty?” You asked with your eyes closed, waiting to open them until you finished speaking. You looked up at her through furrowed eyebrows, awaiting her response. The air was deathly thick, the tension grew as the court looked around at the scene. Your anger was justified, the remark on your unborn sibling was out of turn and incredibly rude, and after feeling ignored and unwanted for twenty-four hours by the very people set up to be your family, you snapped.

“You are excused.” The Queen said quietly, almost too quiet to hear, and you slowly stood from your chair before turning to leave. You looked to your knight as you did, and he followed. After you made distance between yourself and the other Mandalorian women, you could hear faint whispers. That went so much worse than you could have ever imagined. You want to disappear, you want to go home. You swallow a tear and sigh of relief when you get back into the Palace, strolling the halls until you found an empty sitting room. You sit down on one of the blue sofas and bring your fist up to your mouth. The Knight waited at the door, watching your every move. You felt ridiculous, and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of the only person who’s shown you any decency since you arrived in Mandalore. You look over to him with dewey eyes before clearing your throat.

“I apologize for my conduct, I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You shakily sigh out. He didn’t reply, and you laugh once, “I suppose you have your code to uphold here.” You look down as you place your hands in your lap.

“No, I’ve sworn to protect you, that comes before the code of arms.” He takes a step forward and you were almost startled at his voice, you weren’t expecting him to speak up, but you were incredibly happy he did. You look up to see him a little closer, and smile just slightly at his gesture. “I didn’t protect you out there, I’m sorry.” He nodded his head.

“There’s no way you could have known,” You shrug, you didn’t want him to blame himself for your mistake, “Besides, I wasn’t in any danger.”

“Maybe you weren’t in any physical danger, but.. I really shouldn’t say this but that was out of hand. You’re family with the Queen now, she should have defended you.” He continued to step closer to you. “I deeply apologize for being so careless and allowing you to be hurt.” He bowed after saying this, and you smiled.

“Your apology is accepted, Sir Knight.” You slightly teased. “Thank you.” Your chest and stomach was filled with that warm and welcoming feeling again, and the negative endeavor from outside was forgotten even for just a moment. You knew you would have to face it eventually, and formally apologize to the Queen for offending her, but until then, you would allow yourself to feel okay for now. “You’ve been the kindest to me since I arrived.” You tilt your head, “You have no idea what it’s meant to me.”

“As I said, I vowed to be there for you, I will honor that vow.” He said, you didn’t want to feel like he was only being nice to you because he had to. You suck your lips in for a quick second as you absorb his response, unsure of how to respond. “But-” he interrupted your thinking, “It has truly been a pleasure to serve you, and I would be happy to undress you when you ask.”

Your eyes widened, “Excuse me?” It’s not that you didn’t like what you said, you just weren’t expecting it so casually.

“That- came out wrong, forgive me.” He corrected himself. “I mean, I’m happy to help you with anything you like.” He clears his throat and you smile, blushing at his sheepish correction.

“I understand.” You look down at the floor again. “I’m sorry they only give you the nights off.” You switched the topic, not wanting to linger on the last one in case someone was walking by or overheard anything.

“That’s fine, I... enjoy my time with you.” He stopped mid-sentence to consider what he was saying. You smile and laugh a little again.

“It must be tiring, wearing the armor all day, standing at attention, only getting a handful of breaks every few hours…” You think out loud.

“I’m used to it,” He shifts to his weight on one leg, lightly poppin his hip out as he speaks to you. “It’s not so bad, anymore.”

“Is the armor heavy?” You ask, trying to distract yourself.

“Yes, but that’s another thing we get used to. Our bodies adapt to it.”

“So… are you saying you’re strong under all that metal.” You raise and eyebrow, flirting just a little. You could hear a light chuckle come through the helmet when you said this.

“I guess you could say that.” It was like you could hear his smile.

“I’ve found that all Mandalorians are very attractive, do you fall under that assumption?” You knew very well you were playing with fire, that this was uncharted territory and everything was screaming at you to stop before you got too far but you couldn’t. Everything about him was so intriguing to you.

“I’m.. I’m not from Mandalore, actually…” He slowly responded.

“Oh?” You tilted your head, “I thought you had to be in order to be a part of the guard?”

“Well, in a way, you do. You have to be either born in or taken in as a foundling, and that’s what happened to me.” He shrugged.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” You blinked, “Where are you from? Or can you not tell me…”

“The Nevarro frontier.” He responded, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” He groaned. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his rough voice groaning in such a way. You swallow your thoughts.

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I guess you could say that.” You smile at him again after he says this before turning and looking behind you, taking in the room. This was a larger sitting room, and there was a baby-grand piano in one of the corners. Outside of the windows you could see a courtyard, not the same courtyard that the garden is placed in, but one that was stoned and had a large tree in the center of it. There was so much of the palace you hadn’t seen yet, it was far larger than the Corellian one. You stood up to walk over to the piano, feeling a bit better now, and sitting at it. “Can you play?” He asked.

“Yes, I learned at a very young age.” You bring your hands up to keys and begin playing a song, one you have memorized. It was your mother’s favorite song. You played it with such emotion that the Knight was drawn into it, relaxing from his attentive stature and enjoying the sound.

“You’re... very talented.” He nodded.

“Thank you.” You said, looking up at him from the instrument. “I’m a bit rusty I must admit.” You shrug.

“I know someone who would really love it, no matter how rusty you say it is.” He explained.

“Who?” You ask as you stop playing, wondering who he may be talking about.

“I-I shouldn’t say, I’ve already broken the code so much-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I fully understand.” You interrupt, “But just know that anything you say is safe with me, If you vowed to protect me from both physical and emotional harm, the least I can do is keep your secrets.” You nod. He sighs, you can’t hear it but you see it in the armor.

“My.. Uh, my son.”

—

“Soniee, do you know if any guards are fathers?” You ask as the handmaiden tightens the corset on a different dress, tying it to your body. You were preparing for some time alone (chaperoned) with the Prince. You knew you promised the Knight you would keep his secret, and you would do everything in your power to uphold that secrecy, but you figured there was no harm in asking a few questions here and there. As far as anyone is concerned, you’re just curious about the customs and traditions of your new kingdom.

“Well many of the Knights have families of their own, some have illegitimate children as well.” She said behind you.

“So, they don’t have an oath of celibacy?” You ask, hoping it didn’t sound too strange or specific.

“What? No,” She laughed as she said ‘no’, “No, marriage and families are incredibly important to Mandalorian society, the only thing stronger than power or war is love and family. Blood before anything else.” She explained, she had clearly said those words before.

“Maybe that’s why everyone is so cold towards me.” You sigh.

“Maybe.” Soniee confirmed, “But I also believe any new member of house Kyrze is going to be given a hard welcome.”

“And why is that?” You ask, wincing afterwards due to a tight pull of the corset.

“Well it’s taught in every Mandalorian history class: House Kyrze is the royal bloodline, but it wasn’t always that way…”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a civil war some years ago almost immediately after the assassination of Queen Satine. A bad man came in and tried to overthrow Queen Bo-Katan. He was successful in his endeavors for a while, and that's why the Elves and the Queen are so close-” The handmaiden explained.

“I never knew about a Mandalorian war that happened among themselves?”

“It’s shielded from the outside world, we fear that if it gets out, people will stop coming to us for their wars out of speculation that we are not strong enough to fight them if we can’t control each other.” She finished the corset and took a step back, admiring the beautiful dress. “Many Mandalorian’s blame Queen Bo-Katan for the civil war even though she gave up everything she believed in to protect the royal family. You see, she used to be on the side of the Bad Man, but switched after her sister’s death. Many see her unfit for the crown, including members of her own Court.” You didn’t need any more explanation from Soniee to assume who that might be. Considering your previous endeavor this morning, the fat woman probably did not approve of the queen.

“That is why it’s essential that this marriage happens. The people love Korkie, they always have. He is the true heir and the pride of his mother, who was revered and loved throughout all of the kingdoms. When he is back on the throne, not only will anyone who disapproves of Bo be silenced, but they will also see it as one of her many successes. Having to raise and prepare a child who isn’t even yours is not easy.” Soniee concluded.

Great, another weight to be placed on your shoulder based on your ability to fall in love.

“I had no Idea any of that happened.” Your eyebrows furrowed together.

“Personally, I believe that is why you’ve received such a harsh welcome, Korkie is the golden boy of Mandalore, and many will not see you fit for his wife.” You sighed, your belly filling with stress.

“Highness, the Prince is waiting for you in the library.” Your Royal Guard interrupts the conversation, and you smile at him.

“Thank you, Lady Soniee, you’ve been incredibly kind and helpful.”

“Of course, Princess. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She curtsied and you walked out of a your suite into the hallway.

This dress was simpler than the last, a soft pink with embroidered flowers running up and down the smooth tulle and puffy sleeves. It was very beautiful, one you brought from Corellia that was gifted to you a few years ago. You wore pearls from Naboo, and had a soft look to your ensemble. You wanted to be perceived in a specific way by your fiancé, pure of heart, and genuine.

You open the doors to the hallway, and your guard is standing at attention.

“Would you escort me to the library?” You ask, smiling with your lips afterwards. He nods and holds his arm out for you to take, looping your own arms round his and walking down the hallway.

“You look very beautiful, your highness.” He said quietly through the metal, quiet enough that you were the only one who would hear it if anyone would be listening in. You got the lightest touch of goosebumps at his deep and gruff whisper in your ear.

“Thank you, do you think The Prince will like it?” You ask, looking up at his helmet with beady eyes.

“He would be a fool if he didn’t.” The Knight responded, and your stomach filled with butterflies. You blushed as you experienced the addictive feeling of his presence, and pulled him just a bit closer to you. The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the journey to the beautiful library. This was a part of the palace that you had never been to before, and it was just as stunning as the rest of the castle. Books from all over the world in countless languages sat upon towering bookshelves that reached the tall ceiling. There was a large fireplace and in front of it was a number of red velvet armchairs and sofas. As you entered the quiet room, your eyes immediately found the Prince, who sat in one of the chairs reading a book, his head resting against his fist. You and the Knight walk towards him, and as you pull to unhook your harm, you feel him stretch his hand out to feel you for as long as possible before the contact breaks.

“Prince Korkie.” You curtsie, interrupting his reading. He looked up from the book and smiled, standing and bowing to kiss your hand once again.

“Your Highness, You look lovely.” After he compliments you, you turn to look at the guard, smiling.

“I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.” You as he takes your hand and guides you to sit on a sofa.

“Not at all.” He reassured, “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Vaughn, he will be chaperoning us today.” He gestured to a man sitting across from you.

“My pleasure, Princess.” He stood from his seat to bow.

“The library is beautiful, as is everything else in the palace.” You compliment.

“It’s less beautiful when it’s been your classroom growing up.” The Prince teased and you chuckle. “If you would like, please feel free to take any books at any time.” He nodded.

“Thank you, but I’ve never been very into reading.” You admit. “I much prefer music.”

“Ah yes, I play the viola, my mother taught me when I was a boy-“ Somehow he always made it about himself you noticed. You didn’t think he tried to, but conversations are rather boring when you’re just listening. He talked for nearly a half-hour about playing for the Queen of Naboo as a twelve year-old and being revered as a child prodigy for the early part of his life. You sat quietly as he bragged, telling the story to both you and the chaperone instead of keeping his focus on you. You even caught your mind wandering every now and then, glancing over to your knight to make a little face of boredom in an attempt to make him smile. You know you wouldn’t be able to see him if he had smiled, but the thought of it was enough to keep you occupied. After the Prince bragged about his viola skills for close to an hour, he finally asked what you played.

“Piano, actually. It’s my muse, if you will.” You smile, happy to have finally been included, although it was short lived. The prince then continued to talk about how the Queen could play piano but got sick of it after her sister died and hasn’t played in a very long time. He went on and on about it, and you were starting to wish you had picked up a book on your way in to pass the time.

“Allow me to show you to my favorite section of the library.” The Prince said, forcing you to snap out of your little trance as he held your hand out. You clearly hadn’t been listening for a while because you had no recollection of the previous situation, his voice was very tune-out-able. “I’ve asked the Chaperone and Knight to stay here while I do.” He smiled, and you take his hand, standing from the chair.

“Is that appropriate?” You ask.

“I’m the Prince, I can do what I want.” He shrugs and then proceeds to walk you towards a corner in the library. You look over your shoulder to the Knight one last time before you’re pulled around the corner. “This hall is where I would go when I was mad, isn’t it beautiful?” He asked.

“Yes, it is.” It had mostly desks and only a few bookshelves, but was covered in mirrors on both sides of the walls, showing an endless reflection of thousands of copies of yourself.

“I wanted to give you this, as an engagement present.” He held out a small box wrapped with a blue bow.

“Thank you…” You take the gift out of his hand.

“It was my mother’s.” He said as you untied the bow and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace of a sapphire stone with a gold halo.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You held up the necklace to your eyes, watching how it sparkled in the light.

“May I put it on you?” He asked. You nod and hand him the jewelry. Turning around and pulling your hair to the side, you feel him hook the necklace, letting the heavy gem sit against your collarbone. You looked down at it.

“It’s incredibly beautiful, Prince Korkie.” You turn around and smile.

“Please, just Korkie.” He said before forcing a kiss on you, pushing his lips into yours forcefully and holding you in place. It startled you, you hadn’t expected this from him, especially considering how kind he had been before. This was your first kiss and was less than pleasant. You push him off you, and look at him in disbelief. You didn’t want to offend him, but couldn’t mask the look of shock and beytrayal from your face. Your stomach filled with regret, it was customary to not kiss one another until your wedding day, why had he broken that tradition? You felt as though it was your fault he forced himself onto you, and you swallowed back the feeling of anger and distrust. If anyone found out you had kissed him before the wedding, they would all blame you, regardless of who initiated the kiss. You both knew this.

“Excuse me…” You huff passed him, returning to the main room of the library and walked towards the door, you heard your Knight follow you close after, and in a fit of confusion and flusterment, you storm as fast as you can towards your room.

When you two got to a more private part of the palace, closer to the suite, you heard him speak up, “Princess, princess what’s wrong?” You hear your knight say, and before you can ignore him, you feel him grab your hand. It isn’t forceful and it doesn’t hurt, but he’s strong, he wouldn’t be letting you go unless he had to. You turn around to show a tear running down your cheek. “What did he do?” The Guard asked. You swallow thickly and try to look away, darting your eyes behind him, “Look at me.” He said.

“I can’t see your eyes.” You sniffle.

“Please, did he hurt you?” He took a step closer to you, your bodies almost flush against one another.

“We can’t do this here-“

“Did he hurt you?” The knight repeats himself, sterner this time.

You look at his helmet and sigh, “No.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” You were embarrassed, and pull your hand away before walking away, trying to get to your room before bursting into tears. You heard him pick up his pace to catch up and then suddenly he was cutting you off with his body, firmly grabbing your shoulders.

“As your Royal Guard, it does concern me. I told you just this morning that I promised to protect you, and now you’ve gotten hurt twice because of my mistakes.” He said, startling you just a bit. No one had ever spoken to you this way, no one had ever shown that they care this much.

“It’s not your fault, really.” You reassure.

“But it is. What did he do to you?”

“It’s… I’m embarrassed. It’s silly and I’ll-“

“Nothing you say could ever be ‘silly’ to me.” He said, his voice hushing as he did, giving you those little goosebumps again.

You sigh, looking up at him and trying to get out your next sentence, “He-he kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it and he broke tradition and it was all so… so forced.” You admit, feeling as though he would blame you for the kiss.

“He what?”

“You’re really going to make me repeat myself?” You scoff and push passed him, you were almost to your room, if you could make it just a little further-

“He kissed you?” The knight asked.

“Yes. I told you it’s ridiculous but-“

“It’s… not. Ridiculous, that is. It’s not ridiculous. Did he ask if he could?”

“No…” You reply, “I didn’t think he had to.” You raise an eyebrow. “I just wasn't expecting such a stark betrayal of tradition and it startled me and if anyone else find out, they’ll all blame me-“

“He has no right to lay a single finger on you without your permission. He hurt you, and therefore I’ve failed at my job.” He interrupted you.

“Oh-“ You mutter, finally arriving at your door. He had done that without your consent, he had hurt you. The knight was right all along and you were stupid to not accept his help right away. You wipe a tear away from your cheek and open the door. You take a step in, and hold the door open for him to join you. “I have over an hour before dinner… I’ll have to see him again.” You swallow before closing the door.

“I’ll be there by your side, I won’t leave you again. I won’t let him hurt you like that ever again, I promise.” He was firm and confident with his words, giving you a little wave of relief as he spake them.

“Thank you.” You whipser. You take a deep breath and look at him, “You said he can’t do anything without my permission?”

“Yes. That’s how you protect yourself. Don’t give him power he doesn’t deserve.” The Knight explains.

You exhale sharply, “I had never been kissed before.” You admit, looking down at the floor. “It wasn’t what I expected, to say the least.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t… kisses are special, sacred.” He sounded pained as he said them, like it was hard for him to get the words out.

“Have you kissed anyone?” You ask, considering he had a son, you assumed he had, but never really know unless you ask.

“Yes, once, a long time ago.”

“So you haven’t had that helmet on since birth?” You lighten the mood just a little. You hear him chuckle and your stomach is filled with warmth at the noise.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Can you ever take it off?” You ask, walking over to sit on your bed, listening intently, he takes a step in that direction, too.

“Yes, I take it off to eat and bathe and sleep and sometimes I take it off to talk to my son…” He sighs, “But at work, in the palace, in the eyes of other people, it stays on. Always.This is the way.”

“I still don’t understand why.” You tilt your head.

“It… protects us, it keeps our knighthood separate from our manhood, an it’s an ancient tradition practiced by Mandalorians, we do it to respect the culture.” He nods as he speaks.

“Hm, I half expected you to say it was just because you were ugly.” You giggle, and he shakes his head. This time, you knew he was smiling under all that metal.

“Compared to you, I am nothing.” You could hear his smile in his words. You blush and the butterflies in your stomach only grow. You pause for a moment, carefully considering what you were going to say next.

“Will you… will you kiss me?” You ask, looking up at him, he goes still.

“What?”

“Will you kiss me?” You repeat yourself. He doesn’t respond at first, and for a moment, you fear you’ve made a terrible mistake. You wanted him to, you wanted to know what he meant by “kisses are sacred”. He had plagued your mind ever since you first spoke to him and you already have far more affection in your heart for the Knight than for the Prince. You wanted to kiss him.

He sighs in response, and nods once, “Close your eyes, and keep them closed.” You blushed at his agreement.

“Okay.” You say, slowly closing your eyelids and patiently awaiting his next move, feeling triumphant that he agreed. Your body fills with adrenaline as you wait, trying to slow your heart rate with deep breaths.

“Promise to keep them closed?”

“I promise.” You whisper and a few seconds after, you hear the sound of metal hitting metal, and the hollow echo of his helmet being placed on the mattress by where you sit. It took everything in you not to open your eyes, you wanted to look at him, wanted to see his eyes. But you made a promise, you had made promises to each other and had to keep those promises.

Then, ever-so-gently, you feel his warm and forgiving lips against yours.

They’re soft and light, like he didn’t want to hurt you. You melted into his touch, and against your soft skin you felt his stubble run against it. It was rough in the most satisfying and loving sensation possible. He was much kinder than the Prince, so gentle, so true. It wasn’t a very long kiss, but it was more than a peck, and held more passion and intimacy in it than any of the hours you spent with your fiancé combined. He moved just slightly against you, and you felt his bare hand come up to hold your jaw in place as he deepened it for a split second before pulling away. As your lips parted from his, your breath was taken right with them, and you had to consciously remind yourself not to open your eyes.

“Keep them closed, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, trying to remember the feel of his kiss. “Thank you.” Your voice was broken, and you wanted another, but before you could ask, you felt the helmet lift off the bed and the sound of gloves being pulled onto hands.

“Open.” He said after a moment, and your eyes fluttered open to see the knighted figure in front of you. “You’re welcome.”

Part three here

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thefanficmonster · 3 years ago

Text

Know No Better

Streamer Gang & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, HUMOR, Crack, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A game of Among Us with this gang can never go without a halt for some spit-fire accusations and bickering, but throw their mutual friend Y/N in the mix and the chaos flares up twice as intensely.

Requested by my dear friend @thelittleplantlover Hi darling! Thank you so much for being such a loyal reader and never shying away from giving me your full honest feedback. You are an amazing person, a lovely friend and a mutual I’m glad I gained on my Tumblr journey. Love you with all my heart, Vy 💕

“Yo, sorry I’m....late“ Charlie’s eyebrow raises as soon as he enters the Discord call, almost half an hour after the scheduled time due to difficulties with his wi-fi connection. However, neither his presence nor his apology are acknowledged, seeing as how he wasn’t even heard over all the shouting going on in the call. “Um, what’s going on here?“ He asks no one in particular, aware that he probably won’t get an answer.

Surprisingly, though, someone does answer him - Sykkuno. “Hey Charlie, welcome. You missed a whole round and a whole debacle between...” The yelling voices give a clear idea of who this debacle is happening between: Rae, Corpse and Y/N. “Yeah, you can probably tell between who.”

“Yo, is that Y/N? Dude, I haven’t heard from you in so long where’ve you been?“ Charlie exclaims, eyebrows raising in delighted surprise, “What are you arguing about? Imma argue with you.“

“You don’t even know what we’re arguing about!“ Rae snaps, scaring the ever-loving daylight out of the newcomer that all but shrinks a bit in his seat, “These are matters the three of us have to deal with!“

You see, Charlie’s not one to press his luck - definitely not when the sweetheart Rae lashes out like that, reminding him that the impossible can be possible if you’re a strong enough believer - but right now, seeing as how he isn’t playing yet, he’s thirsty for some amusement even if it comes with the price of being verbally beat and battered by the currently bickering trio.

“God bless the day you three actually manage to deal with something by yourselves.“ He snickers, half-hoping Rae wouldn’t hear him. Actually, it’s more one third hoping she wouldn’t the other two suggesting otherwise. Adding gasoline to the fire - it’s basically in his resume at this point.

The reply he receives is not even oriented around his statement and it doesn’t come from Rae - whether that be a blessing or a curse - but rather from Y/N. “Charlie, help! Corpse and I are being wrongfully accused over here!“

“There’s nothing wrong about my accusations! I heard you bribing Corpse into vouching for you, you impostor!“ Rae spits out the word as though this argument is a real deal and not just them throwing a collective tantrum as they usually tend to do.

“He asked me for immunity in exchange for keeping his mouth shut! I never offered it to him!“ Y/N argues back, “Not my fault he’s a corrupt crewmate!“

“You were about to accept the offer though! Who does that?!“ Rae’s not giving up her ground either.

“Anyone! All of you know you would’ve accepted the offer had you been the one to be proposed it!“ Y/N whines, reminding themself and everyone else that they are not a very argumentative or confrontational. The only time they can be caught butting heads with people is as a joke, among this very group of people and over something as small as a bribery in Among Us. “And why is no one going off at Corpse for this? Why am I the villain here? Um, hello?! I’m an impostor, I’m supposed to be evil. One of your own betrayed you, and I’M your biggest problem?!”

“I’d like it if you didn’t get me involved...“ Corpse inquires shyly, as though fearing he too is in for an outburst from Rae if he dares oppose hers and Y/N’s statements.

Unfortunately for him, he’s attacked by their joined forces with a: “YOU STARTED THIS!” Shouted at him in unison. Just like Charlie, he too shrinks in his seat.

“Hey Toast.“ Charlie nudges one of his friends, one he hasn’t heard from for the entirety of his short time in the Discord call, “You there?“

“Sup man?“ Toast answers, unmuting his mic for the first time after approximately ten minutes of silence on his end due to this heated debate going on.

“Ten bucks says this goes on for another ten minutes.“ Charlie says nonchalantly, already planning the cheap dinner he’s gonna order with those ten bucks.

“Nah man, fifteen for fifteen minutes. These two have no chill.“ Toast says, taking a sip of his soda.

“You’re both wrong.“ Sykkuno interferes, “I’m putting in twenty for twenty and I’m starting a timer.“

“WHAT?!“

The three men sit there paralyzed now that the two sides of the battlefield have temporarily united once again to end them. Lord knows when Y/N and Rae unite, nothing good is in store for those who they’re up against.

“N-nothing...I was just announcing that...“ Charlie starts off, strategically reaching for the plug for his router, “...my wi-fi’s gonna disconnect in three, two...“

“DON’T YOU DARE!“

And WHOOP he’s gone. And so are Toast, Sykkuno and Corpse.

“I really can’t believe them sometimes.“ Rae grumbles under her breath finding the miserable number of remaining players once again gathered in the cafeteria after no one got voted out despite everyone knowing it’s Y/N.

“And here I thought Charlie would back me up.“ Y/N sighs disappointedly, shooting a brief look at their chat, “Hell if I ever trust him again.“

“Look at the bright side though!“ their friend, moments ago opponent, hurries to comfort them as though their argument never happened. Technically, it really didn’t. “He’s at least not gonna get those ten bucks he sounded so confident in getting.“

Knowing Charlie, losing a bet will most likely leave him feeling torn, but hey, much to his comfort, he was the closest in guessing the duration of the arguing. You win some and you lose some, this time he’s done neither. But he will get an earful from Y/N at the first given chance they get, which he’s grown used to over the years, being the one knowing them the longest. What he’s still trying to get used to is how much they’ve clicked with his friend group. Never did he imagine his socially awkward and shy friend would steal all his friends and literally wrap them around their little finger. Truth be told, amazement aside, he’s quite proud of them for it.

Yes, of course he’s gonna try bringing this up when they open fire on him as an attempt to calm them down. Yes, he knows it probably won’t work. But also: yes, he knows what will. Cause that’s what best friends do - they know. However, they should also know better than to bet on their friends.

But come on, it’s Charlie and Y/N we’re talking about over here - neither of them know any better. Hell, no one in this gang knows better. That’s what makes them so uniquely and wonderfully chaotic.

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leftonraed · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met - Episode 5

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.9k summary — You and Taehyung get closer which isn’t to his manager’s liking. Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

You walk along the corridor, looking after Taehyung and Hina. You find them in the room assigned to her the duration of the small vacation.

You stop at the doorstep, bringing your arms to your chest as you cross them. They’re both seated around a small coffee table along three of her soft toys gathered to have tea.

“He’e, biscuits. Hey!” Hina chirps handing a plate with plastic cookies to him.

“Sorry, I was busy listening to miss Maggie’s hot tea.”

He offers a happy smile and effortlessly takes all of them in a handful which has her staring at him in a judgemental way. “Not all, siwy!”

You can’t help the smile etching on your face.

“Tuffy wants some too. He’re you go.” She continues putting one biscuits in front of her pale blue elephant.

“My bad Tuffy,” Taehyung is prompt to apologize looking at the soft toy while his niece proceeds to fill their cups for the second time. “I didn’t eat well earlier.”

She seats down and stretches her hand to hand him another cookie.

He shakes his hand, “don’t worry about me. You should eat yours as well Princess Hina.”

“No, mine’s he’e. It’s Snowball’s.”

“Are you sure he won’t mind?” He inquires, looking embarrassed at the tilted turtle next to her, seconds away from falling down his chair.

“Yes,” she assures, sipping from her cup. “He told me.”

He repositions the toy. “That’s very kind of you Snowball. I’ll make sure to remember it next time we have tea together.”

You surely took him for the type to play along children’s games but never would’ve imagined him doing his bit this seriously. When Hina complained about not having her doll’s tea set brought along and he promised to get her a new one, you figured he didn’t do it because he could afford it, getting her one meant opportunities to share even more moments together because he cherished her that much.

The sound of plastic dishes toppling snaps you out of your head. Hina has tripped over dress in her attempt to stand up, bringing half of the table content with her in her fall.

“Do you need help Princess?” Taehyung inquires, stifling a laugh, still clinging to his cup and cookie. He cocks his head to the side when he hears her let out a tiny whimper. “Hina?”

Worryness frowns his face a little and he nimbly gets her back on her feet, holding her to him massaging her leg she complains about.

You feel warmth spreading in your chest the longer you stare them, at him around her. They belong together.

You’re not aware of it but you must have made a sound because they’re both looking at you. It’s your face that is now heating.

You straighten your back. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I’ve come to inform you the car is ready my lady.”

You make eye contact with Taehyung and feel your body giving up on you and you’re positive he’s noticing your blush. He smiles.

**********************************************

“You should buy it if you like it.” You hear Taehyung say to you a few feet away from where you.

“Huh?” You jerk your body in surprise, not expecting him to see you browsing clothes. You watch him walk closer and take the dress you’re holding from you to give it a closer look.

“So this is how you’d dress...” He observes to himself.

You find yourself staring longer than needed at his mouth when he slowly drags his bottom lip between his teeth and you feel yourself rising in temperature. “I- I- I don’t-, I’m not-”

He looks down at you, smiling softly at your sudden stuttering. Why is she suddenly acting cute, he thinks. “Take it. Let me buy it as a gift.”

You breath, getting a grip on yourself and refusing to meet his eyes. “No.”

“It’s okay.”

“This is... not appropriate…” You trail in a small voice.

“Pff, what are you mumbling? Come on, I really want to. You’d look pretty in it.”

You gaze up at the compliment but he doesn’t seem embarrassed. Taehyung can’t help to find amusing the quick change in roles. He knows you’d look more than pretty but you seem flustered enough.

“I really don’t want it.”

“You’re lying…” He smiles. “I’ll take it off your pay if that’s what you want.”

“Hmm,” you pout, eyes drawn back to the dress as he takes it off the rod. “I’ll make sure you do.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sings walking away.

“Where is Hina anyway? I thought you were looking after her.” You scold, following and face still flaming.

***************************************

Taehyung has just finished cleaning up Hina’s mess from her eating dinner and turned on the stove to cook the one he’s made for you two when his phone is heard ringing. He takes it to identify the caller.

“I’ll shower her.” You quickly say before he gets to say anything, allowing him to get some respite.

“You sure?” He looks back and sees you already walking away with Hina in your arms smiling and waving at him.

He smiles to himself and sits down on the couch, only now realizing how much he’s needing it. He lets out a sigh and answers the call.

“Hey, mom.” —

“No, not this one,” Hina slurs, knuckling one eye as you pick out several pajamas.

You fold back the cloth after her rejection. “What about this one?”

You look down at her. She’s barely holding herself up as she squeezes her eyes and eventually nods her head. You chuckle to yourself and quickly dress her up before she catches a cold.

Hina lifts her arms out of habit and you straighten yourself up, gently swaying her as you softly hum your favorite lullaby to her.

You walk in the living-room at the same time Taehyung’s getting the fuming dish out. Plates, glasses and cutlery are already ready so you directly go take a seat in front of his while he places the meal between you.

You look up at him and immediately grasp something bothering him. You take in a big breath.

“This looks actually really good. I kinda expected not to eat anything tonight.” You trail in a sarcastic tone.

You manage to pull a half-hearted lopsided smile.

“Did everything go well with Hina?”

You hum an approval taking a first bite of the home-cooked meal. “Think I broke my record. Three minutes and I could've sworn hearing snore.” You’re sure it’s not entirely coming from your empty stomach and can’t help the short pleasant moan you let out as you start chewing.

You catch Taehyung giving you a relieved and thankful look.

“Not eating?”

He nods and moves his hand to hold his fork but you feel he may have lost his appetite.

You try not to stare too much and every time he’s not looking back. You’ve never seen him looking this down as far as you can recollect. He’s had his collected and isolated moments but you know this right now is not one of them. He’s changed mood so abruptly.

You’re so lost in your thoughts, his sudden speaking has you almost jumping in your seat. “I might actually believe you. This isn’t too bad.”

Taehyung finds it curious the way you're gazing back silently. He smiles shyly and looks back down at his plate. He hates it how he’s not able to enjoy this quiet and intimate moment with you.

You put down your fork to reach for your glass of water. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “You seem to be the only one thinking that.”

“Not true.” You peak his interest. “I know a little snoring cutiekins that can vouch for it.”

His fork makes a sudden noise when it slips his grasp. He frowns a little.

“What happened Tae? Who called you?”

“My parents.” He pauses. “They’re still thinking I’m not fit to raise her.”

“Why?” You’re frowning too. “They didn’t seem convinced enough last time we visited. Your father was really supportive. I don’t understand.”

“I think the thing they’re reassessing is… not me but my job.”

You sit up and look away, “so I’m the one who didn’t convince them?”

He gazes up at you with confused eyes. “No, I don’t think you’re the problem. No, it’s- It’s just… I mean, you’re planning to look after us your whole life. I mean work for me.”

“Of course not.” You trail softly looking back. “But you’re going to better yourself. You’ve barely got acquainted with each other.”

“They say Hina starting preschool this year is bad timing.”

“I… I don’t mean to be rude but how would they know?”

“Well, they’ve already had an idea about how hectic my schedule can get.”

You cross your arms on your chest. “But you’re planning to adapt it, right?”

“Of course, I just... “

“Need to adopt her officially and make it public.” You continue for him. “How do you feel about you looking after her?”

“I feel good about it. I mean it feels right and I don’t want it another way.”

“So get yourself heard.” Taehyung looks down in surprise at your hand grabbing his. “You’re not a child taking care of one. You know what you want. Stop letting others think and speak for you. If you don’t fight for Hina you’ll come to regret it.”

You go silent and become aware of your gesture when he doesn’t say anything back. You slowly remove your hand and freeze when he suddenly grabs it hurriedly. You only then notice the tears in his thankful eyes.

*******************************************

It’s been a couple of months since Hina started her first preschool year and you and Taehyung have fondly been watching her blooming weeks after weeks in her new environment. There hasn’t been a day, she hasn’t had plenty of anecdotes to tell.

As much as you’re taking pleasure in witnessing her go through her learning, you feel as much contentment from seeing Taehyung discover that new side of rearing.

“Hello!” Hina bursts her way inside the penthouse as usual, excited to find Taehyung after a long day spent apart.

“Hey sugarplum,” he grins just as delighted.

You close the door behind you bringing Hina’s tiny backpack along with the couple of errands you ran for him. You don’t have to look at Taehyung to notice just how exhausted he must be. It’s been a week since his latest comeback and getting back to a busy schedule, which still has had some changes to it, isn’t as easy as he’d expected it.

You haven’t talked about the issue his parents raised ever since that night and didn’t want to seem intrusive but you just hoped he’d grin and bear it the time needed.

“_______ will also be there.”

You perk at the sound of your name looking at them from the kitchen where you’re storing things away.

You see Hina’s eyes brighten at the news you’re unaware of. “Weally?”

She joggs towards you and looks up with hopeful eyes as her tiny fists clutch your pants.

“Pwomise?”

“Promise what?” You frown confused as you look between Taehyung and her.

“Come see her end of year show,” he explains stretching an arm on the couch. “She’ll be singing songs.”

“Say yes.” She hops still clinging around your knees.

You feel your chest get overwhelmed with a familiar surge of warmth, binding you tightly from within and it makes your face all tingly. “If you invite, I’ll c-”

“Yes, yes, yes. I invite you.” She bounces happily.

You reach to pat her head, smiling at her shyly. “Yes, I’ll come.”

Taehyung grins effortlessly at the two of you and thinks that moments like this are worth all the effort in the world.

Hina joins him again and you hear them making sure she doesn’t reveal to you the song she’ll be performing and how she has to train seriously because he might assess her singing. You’re convinced he doesn’t need you or your words, he’ll be doing just fine.

********************************************

Taehyung involuntarily puts an end to your happy mood when he reveals he’s had you do the groceries because Hwiin is expected later tonight to share dinner. You don’t ask him but he tells you to stay in case you’d be thinking of leaving. The thought makes you smile but it doesn’t last when you think about the time you’ll have to go through in her company.

The doorbell rings unpleasantly and you let Taehyung welcome her while you remain in the kitchen finishing preparing everything you’ll be needing.

You shortly greet her when she comes in, waving at her with a knife in your hand and noticing the surprise on her face she sees you.

“We’re just getting started with dinner so you can wait here with Hina,” Taehyung explains as he helps her with her coat and bag.

“Alright.” She speaks in a high-pitched tone as she gets closer to Hina sitting on the carpet and playing with her toys. “Hello Hina.”

The little girl replies quietly.

Hwiin still struggles to find the right words or gestures when it comes to her but she comforts herself as she can acknowledging the fact she’s not making her cry anymore.

She tries not to be too invasive and settles for switching between her phone and watching T.V.

She’s surprised by Taehyung’s sudden appearance when he brings Hina some grapes.

“You want some too?” He smiles politely.

“No I’m good, thank you.” If you looked at her, you'd find her racking her brain to quickly find a way to start a conversation with him but he’s back giving you instruction on the use of ingredients.

She resigns herself a moment until something worth saying eventually comes to her mind but when she looks his way, she finds him bent down, your arms framing his neck and your faces close, very close.

Are they- Right in front of me? She tenses.

She freezes at the sight and doesn’t immediately see that you’re actually tying the front part of his hair to keep from falling in his eyes.

She promptly looks away as if it physically hurt her and stared in space. She hears his laugh and it tugs at his heart. She can’t overlook the bonds you’ve forged, they exist and helped make his house home-like.

Her eyes are dragged yet again where you are and she watches quietly as you manoeuvre Hina on your hip to give her a peek at what you’re cooking. She feels in the way and it hurts.

You’re in charge of feeding Hina while Taehyung focuses on finding conversation topics, sparing you the small talk. Although the little has all your attention, you notice Hwiin strange silence.

She’d usually take the opportunity to be all over him, monopolizing him to herself claiming her behavior was justified by professional reasons.

“Let me take care of it,” he interjects when she stands up to help clear up the table.

“Thank you,” she smiles half-heartedly. “I have to make a quick phone call, I’ll be right back.”

She grabs her phone from the couch where she’s left it and looks back as she heads for the bathroom down the corridor. She sees Hina grabbing onto you to lead you to the ice cream she’s struggling to open on her own.

She finally opts for Hina’s bedroom and leaves the door barely ajar after checking one more time the coast is clear.

She thumbs a number and waits for an answer.

“Hello? Mrs Hiroshi? I’m Hwiin, do you remember me?” She asks in a hushed voice. “I’m doing good thank you. Listen, I don’t have plenty of time.”

She turns away from the door and walks away a little.

“I called to tell you I’ve been thinking about the suggestion we’ve come up with a couple of weeks ago. Yes, the social worker one.” She nods to herself. “I think it could work out.”

Hwiin looks over her shoulder when she thinks she’s heard a noise. “Let me take care of it. I’ll contact them myself. Yes, don’t worry. I’ll keep you in touch.”

She can see a shadow right on the other side of the door and hurries to finish her call. “I have to hang up. We’ll talk again later.”

She walks to the door warily, directing a frowning gaze where the shadow remains still and stretches her arm. She yanks the door open violently and sees nothing behind it.

She holds back a scream when Hina runs in at full speed.

“Hina, you scared me.” She laughs uneasily watching her plop on her bed.

She looks up at her, her big eyes hidden behind her long fringe. “What you doing in my woom?”

“Me? Nothing,” Hwiin dismisses with her hands on her knees. This doesn’t feel natural at all, she thinks. “I just wanted to see it. You have such a beautiful room.”

Hina stares up at the smile Hwiin gives her. She decides to walk out first, followed closely by. Her heart is still thumping hard and loudly in her ears as she joins you and Taehyung in the living-room where you’re sitting nearby each other.

She grins at him, sitting on his other side just as closely and makes sure to avoid your eyes.

/////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback is much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

#taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts angst #taehyung angst #bts fluff #taehyung fluff #bts imagines #taehyung x reader #taehyung x oc #bts reactions

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alwaysachorusgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Playing Matchmaker

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Female Reader

Word Count: 2,028

Square: Blind Date

TW: none

Tagging: @thatesqcrush

A/N: Well, it took a massive re-write, but it’s done. This isn’t the story I originally started writing, but I’m okay with that. I like this version better. I like that it became more of an ensemble piece. And then there’s Janice. She’s named after Janice from the Muppets, and her personality is a combination of a few people that I know. She’s that friend who really cares and means well, but doesn’t always understand boundaries. And once I started writing her, it was hard to stop.

“Janice, can you please just knock it off already?”

You swallowed two ibuprofen tablets with a swig of your white chocolate mocha and rubbed your temples. As an SVU detective it was rare for you to have a Saturday off. You had agreed to meet your friend and neighbor Janice for coffee and breakfast. Everything had been fine until she had started sticking her nose into your love life, or lack thereof, and now you had a headache.

“But Y/N, Valentine’s Day is a few days away, and once again, you don’t have any plans. Come on, just let me set you up with someone. One more blind date isn’t going to kill you.”

“No, but I might kill you, “you shot back, glaring at your friend. “Look, I’m sorry, I know you mean well, it never works.”

“It might, if you ever gave one of them a chance,” She countered. “You’re the one who always bails after one drink.”

“I’m a detective, Janice, and a good judge of character. I can tell pretty quickly if a guy isn’t going to meet my standards. And besides, I hate Valentine’s Day. It’s not a real holiday, and it’s not worth me wasting my time and energy.”

“Damn, Y/N,” remarked Janice, “You’re too young to be that jaded and cynical.”

“I’m merely stating a fact, “you said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s not my fault if you can’t handle it.”

“What about your partner, that Italian guy? He’s cute.”

“Sonny?” You nearly spat out your drink. “He’s like my big brother. I think I’m technically an adopted Carisi sister, at this point.”

“Okay, so that’s a “no”. You mind if I ask him out?”

“Janice, no; he’s a good Catholic boy and I will not have you corrupting him.”

“Okay, okay, chill,” said Janice, sitting back and putting her hands up in defeat. “Oh! Wait! I know! What about that ADA you always hang out with? What’s his name…Raymond?”

“His name is Rafael, and he’s also a “no”. I don’t think he feels the same way about me, as I do him.”

“Aha! So, you do have your eye on someone!”

“Janice, please, just drop it already. I have a headache and I don’t want to talk about this right now. Can we please order food? I’m starving.”

******************

After breakfast, you bundled up and headed out into the February air. You knew that Janice was just trying to help, but sometimes she just didn’t understand the concept of boundaries. Your love life had been non-existent since you had caught your last boyfriend cheating red-handed. That had been two years ago. Rafael Barba had offered you his shoulder to cry on, knowing all too well the kind of pain and humiliation that you had been feeling. He’d gone from work colleague to one of your best friends after that, and at some point, you had developed romantic feelings for the handsome, Cuban ADA. But for the sake of your friendship and working relationship, you intended to keep that to yourself. It wasn’t worth taking the risk of losing him or making things weird between the two of you.

Your feelings for Rafael were also why all the blind dates never went anywhere. Some of your dates had been nice, others total douchebags, but they weren’t Rafael, and therefore, there was no point in the stringing them along. As long as you were comparing them up against the standard that was Rafael Barba, they could never measure up. You were fine with that.

**************************

Janice walked into the SVU squad room on Monday and breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t see you. She wasn’t there to see you anyway. Instead she looked around and tried to find someone who looked like they worked with you.

“Excuse me, miss? You look a little lost. I’m Detective Amanda Rollins, Can I help you with something?”

Janice turned and smile at the blond woman with the Southern accent. She recognized the name right away.

“I think you can. I’m Janice Wilson. I’m a friend of Detective Y/F/N Y/L/N?”

“Oh, Y/N’s not here right now. I think she’ll back in about a half an hour?” Amanda paused. “What a minute…did you say Janice? Janice the Matchmaker?!”

“She’s mentioned me?” Janice’s eyes went wide.

“Oh honey,” said Amanda, “we know all about you. You’re kind of famous around here. Hey! Carisi! Finn! Get off your butts and get over here!”

“What?” Sonny called back from his desk, his mouth full of food. “It’s lunchtime, Rollins, I’m eating over here!”

“Yeah, Rollins, what’s the fuss?” Asked Finn, rising from his chair.

Amanda walked Janice a little further into the squad room.

“Guys, this is Janice, the Janice! You know, Y/N’s friend?”

“Wait, seriously? Janice the Matchmaker? Nice to finally put a face to the name,” said Finn, coming over and shaking Janice’s hand.

“Hey, we’ve met before. It was that one time at Y/N’s apartment, “said Sonny, finally putting down his sandwich and standing up. “You live down the hall. So, what brings you to SVU?”

Janice quickly filled them in the conversation from the coffee shop.

“So, the thing is, I’ve been getting it all wrong. If I had had known sooner about the ADA, I would have tried setting her up with him. I feel bad and I need to make this right with her. The problem is, I think she’s a little pissed at me, and she’s not going to listen to me. That’s where you guys come in. I have an idea, but I need your help.”

“Count me in, “said Amanda. “If anyone needs to get together, it’s Y/N and Barba.”

“I don’t know, Rollins, “said Sonny. “Isn’t this kind of going behind her back?”

“Carisi, have you seen the way they look at each other? Have you ever noticed how he’s less cranky when she’s around?”

“Yes, Rollins, I know, we all know! But she’s still my partner, and I gotta look out for her.” He looked at Janice. “If I agree to this, what exactly would I have to do?”

Janice motioned for everyone to come closer.

“Bring it in, folks, here’s the plan.”

*********************

When you came back from picking up warrants and getting lunch, everything appeared to be normal. Amanda and Finn were working at their desks. Sonny was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t exactly unusual. Any one of you could be called out on a case at any time. You took off your coat and sat down at your desk. You were just starting to dig into your lunch when Amanda got up and came over.

“Hey, you, just the person I wanted to see.” She flashed her best smile, and you immediately suspicious.

“Hi Amanda, what’s up?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you had any plans for Valentine’s Day…”

“Amanda, you know that I don’t. What’s really going on?”

“Okay, so I know this guy. He also doesn’t have any plans for Valentine’s Day, and I think he might be a good fit for you.”

“Oh, dear God, are you seriously trying to set me up on a blind date?”

“Yes, I am. Look, I vouch for this guy. I wouldn’t try to set you up with someone that

I couldn’t vouch for, and he’s a nice guy. I think you’ll like him.”

“Fine,” you sighed, hanging your head in defeat. “But if this guy sets off even one red flag, I’m bailing.”

“That is totally fair,” agreed Amanda. “You would be disappointed, I promise.”

********************

Sonny walked into Rafael Barba’s office at 1 Hogan Place and hoped that he wouldn’t screw this up. He still couldn’t believe that he’s agreed to this, but Janice and Amanda had been so sure that this would work. He heard his phone ping in his coat pocket. He checked it and saw it was a text from Amanda. She had succeeded in getting you to agree to the blind date. Now he had to do his part. Rafael’s assistant, Carmen, was sitting at her desk.

“Hey, Carmen, he in?”

“Yes, but he’s prepping for court, so he’s in a mood. Don’t take up too much of his time, okay?”

“No problem, hopefully this won’t take long.” Sonny knocked the door and waited until he heard “Enter!”, before going in.

Rafael looked up and wasn’t thrilled to see the detective striding into his office.

“What do you want Carisi? I’m busy, and Y/N already came by earlier to pick up those warrants for Liv.”

“I’m actually here to ask you a question. What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?”

“The same thing I do every year, working,” replied Rafael, rolling his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“I ask because I have this friend, and she is into you. I really think you’d like her, and she doesn’t have any plans for Valentine’s Day. So, I’m just trying to be a good friend and help her out…”

“You’re trying to set me up on a blind date with your friend? Are you kidding me right now?”

“No, no I most certainly am not. Come on, Barba, it’s one date. Trust me, you’re going to like her. She’s worth it.”

“Does this friend have a name?” asked Rafael, suddenly realizing that the detective wasn’t backing down without a fight.

“I can’t tell you that because it will ruin the surprise, but come on, what have you got to lose?”

**********************

And so, on Valentine’s Day, Rafael Barba found himself walking into a little French Bistro a few blocks away from Hogan Place. He still didn’t know his date’s name. All he had been told by Sonny was what she’d be wearing, that she was beautiful, and that he’d know her when he saw her. It was all a bit too vague for his tastes, but Sonny had insisted. So, the ADA had chosen the restaurant and made a reservation. He looked around, hoping to see someone that fit the description he’d been given. Instead, he saw you, sitting at the bar and nursing a glass of red wine. He made his way over to the bar, secretly wishing that he was meeting you instead of his date.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Rafael!” You said, looking up in surprise. You got up and hugged your friend. He was warm and it felt so good to be wrapped up in his arms. He smelled of coffee and his cologne and it was nothing short of intoxicating. You probably held onto to him for a bit too long, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Believe it or not, Amanda set me up on a blind date,” you told him, finally pulling away and sitting back down.

“Really? This is going to sound weird, but Carisi set me up on a blind date.”

“He did what? He didn’t tell me about that. Is it just me, or does it feel like something’s up?”

“Yes,” Rafael nodded, “Something is definitely up. Y/N, what color would you say your dress is?”

You looked down at your dress, and then back up at Rafael, thoroughly confused.

“I like to think of it as a cranberry wine,” you replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Carisi said my date would be wearing a cranberry wine-colored wrap dress, is beautiful, and that I’d know her when I saw her.”

Your eyes went wide as your thought back to what Amanda had told you about your date.

“Amanda told me that my date has green eyes, dark hair, is well-dressed, and that I’d know him when I saw him…” You trailed off, gazing into Rafael’s eyes, realization dawning on you. “It’s you. I’m so glad it’s you.”

“I’m glad it’s you, too,” said Rafael, taking your hand in his. “So, want to you say to having dinner with me?”

“I say ‘Yes’, nothing would make me happier. Just let me text Amanda real quick.”

Y/N: I’m going to kill you!

A. Rollins: Lol, that’s fine. Just make sure you say ‘thank you’ to Janice. She’s the brains of the operation. We couldn’t have done it without her.

#thatesqcrush vday bingo #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #svu #svu fanfiction #rafael barba imagines #fan fiction #raul esparza

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dessarious · 4 years ago

Text

The Angel of Death Pt42

Inspired by this Story Starter by @someone-ev

AO3 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

“We’re screwed.” Tris could only sigh. She was watching the Miraculous users get tossed around by the Blake boys while their sister commented from a tablet. She couldn’t disagree with the assessment.

“They can’t be harmed by normal weapons so at least they won’t get hurt easily. It’s not something I want to do but if Talia’s not alone they’ll be good as distractions.” The oldest Blake threw Chloe into Luka while the other sent Adrien into a wall while fending off Kagami. She was the only one who could hold her own at all. She hoped they’d never get near Talia or any of the League, but she couldn’t chance them being unprepared.

“I know you don’t want to involve anyone else but it might be helpful to bring in an expert. The person who trained us is great with beginners, gets them trained fast, and is very discrete. None of us have the experience to help them properly.” As much as she agreed with the last part, too many people already knew about the Miraculous. “I can get a hold of her if you want, or you may actually have heard of her. Gina Dupain.”

“No.” Tris could practically feel her blood pressure rising. She wasn’t about to bring her Nonna back into this after she’d managed to get her out of the line of fire. It was bad enough that her error in judgement in staying in Paris had put the others in danger. The youngest Blake let out a sigh from the screen.

“I get it. I also have some possibly good news. Well, good for you anyway.” That sounded somewhat ominous.

“Good for me how?”

“Given the timeline, it’s possible Talia’s coming here for her son, not you. As far as we can tell she was still tracking you by your jobs and only changed course when the mini al Ghul hit Paris.” Tris wasn’t sure what to think of that. Yes it meant that they were safe but given the string between Talia and Damian he was in mortal danger. She shouldn’t care about that.

“Have you told him that yet?” He and his father hadn’t been able to track her reliably before, there was no reason to think they’d managed it now.

“I did. He’s refusing to leave, even after I told him that it would help us figure out which one of you she was after. That boy seems to think he’s the only one who can save you.” Tris couldn’t stop the eyeroll. Even after she’d pinned him he still thought she needed his help.

“He’s being irrational. It would be easier to come up with a strategy if I knew her target and if she knows I’m here.” He really had gone soft, if anyone needed protected it was him.

“Males tend to get protective over someone they see as their responsibility. I don’t know exactly what your relationship is or was but he seems to be under the impression that this is his fault.”

“He’s right.” Tris let out a groan as all four Miraculous users were tied together with one bola. This was nothing but a disaster. “Which is why he needs to keep his head and do what’s necessary instead of make my life harder, again.” She needed a new plan. Maybe she really did need to send them all elsewhere until this was over.

“That’s a lot of hostility Baby Death, want to talk about it?”

“You want to talk about why you hate Talia so much?” Tris winced as soon as the words came out. She really needed to get a hold of herself. This was another reason she stayed away from people. “Sorry.”

“Nah, I deserved that. Your business is your business and I’ve already overstepped.” Tris looked back in time to see the younger Blake brother tie Adrien up with his own tail. This was just pathetic. She was out of options.

“Call Gina and set up a time for me to meet her privately to explain things. Do not tell her what it’s about or that I’m the client.” Worst case scenario she could send them off with her Nonna to protect them. Tris just had to figure out how to keep Gina from learning that Talia was involved. Yeah, she was screwed and this just kept getting more complicated. She never should have stayed in Paris.

“I can try but she’s pretty picky about her clients. Hopefully she’ll just let me vouch for you.” Tris didn’t respond. She had a feeling that just mentioning Paris would bring the woman running. She just hoped she didn’t bring reinforcements. They watched as the Blakes incapacitated all the Miraculous users, again. “I’ll be as persuasive as possible, but you might want to be coming up with contingency plans. Damian is at least trained.” Tris felt her eye twitch.

“I always have contingency plans, but he will never be a part of them.” Her eyes went to the string that led to Damian. It was still pulsing and that worried her. All of this was still too new and she had no idea what most of it meant. She couldn’t afford to have unknowns right now and that string felt… off. She was going to have to deal with it sooner rather than later no matter how much she didn’t want to go near him.

“We’re done for the night.” Tris’s announcement brought relief from everyone. “Go home and get some rest.”

“What about you?” Chloe’s voice was half concerned and half demanding.

“I have a problem to deal with.”

AO3 Prologue Beginning Previous Next

Ko-Fi

Tag List

@kceedraws @theatreandcomicfreak @krispydefendorpolice @magic-miraculous @chocolatecatstheron @mooshoon @northernbluetongue @interobanginyourmom @rebecarojas07 @dast218 @abrx2002 @damianette-is-life @yin-390 @fontegagrilledcheese @bigpicklebananatree @tbehartoo @nobodyw8s4evr @linim2503 @ladybug-182 @marinettepotterandplagg @daminett4life @thethirdwheelfriend @corabeth11 @emotionalsupportginger @shizukiryuu @toodaloo-kangaroo @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @hauntedfreakdeputyhero @sassakitty @my-name-is-michell @multplelifes @sassydepression @danielslilangel @winter-gardenflower @animegirlweeb @romanoff-queen @nanakeid @paradoxal-occurance @theg0ddesspersephone @hinata3487 @irontimetravelflower @the-real-gingakid @heaven428 @peachedpocky @justafanwarrior @gentlemanoftimetravel @18-fandoms-unite-08 @kittycatwowmeow @pale-lady-dreamer @i-is-mysterious @captainartsypants @write-for-your-life2 @queengeorgiaaa @schrodingers25 @thecaptainthunder @elspethshadow @stela-likes-drawing @loysydark @lozzybowe @renscorpio @elmokingkong @the-fusionist @tis-i-beanbandit @smolplantmum @iwantwhirlledpeasandlotsatrees @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @chocolateherringtacofan @how-to-fuction-properly

#maribat #assassin mari #marinette dupain cheng #original characters

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, noahreidhours!

For @noahreidhours. You wanted angst, have some angst (and some fluff, I guess)

*****

It starts like an avalanche, a small, defined moment that coalesces into something much bigger. Derek can’t pinpoint the exact moment everything clicked into place and the snow started, metaphorically, tumbling down the mountain, but once it started, it didn’t slow, didn’t stop, and couldn’t be avoided.

Derek has been convinced for so long that good things didn’t happen to him, that when things start looking up, he tries to quash it away as best as he can, in the only way he knows how; he bares his claws and snaps his fangs.

He doesn’t know when it stopped working on Stiles.

— — — — — —

It must be a day that ends in Y, because Stiles goes missing a few days after the pack discovers something hinky going on out in the preserve. Boyd and Erica have both found evidence of some sort of magical presence - fire pits that stink of non-native herbs, a spool of twine, a silver coin, several rocks and tree trunks painted with strange runes that even have Deaton scratching his head - and not even Derek is able to catch a scent.

Things really go ass over tea kettle when, one day later, Alison goes missing, too.

Chris Argent calls in every favor owed to him to aid in the search. Chris vouches for every hunter that comes to town, swears that they keep to the code, but Derek trusts them about as far as he can spit.

Derek delegates that Chris and his hunters can search one half of the preserve, while he and his wolves check the other half. Boyd and Erica make up one group, Scott and Isaac the other. Jackson and Lydia are holding down the fort, so to speak; Danny’s hacked into the database that stores the video for traffic cams across town, and the three of them are going through it in hopes they can find something. Thus, Derek searches alone. After all, he’s the strongest, he’s the alpha.

It’s more coincidence and dumb luck than expert tracking that Derek finds them at all.

The moon is high, and he pauses by the stream that runs through the preserve, scenting the air. He smells nothing but the forest around him, crisp and clear and just a little damp from the afternoon rain.

That’s when he hears it, a strange sound that has him freezing in place. It sounds muffled, like hearing a TV or radio in another part of a house, softly faded but just loud enough that, if you listen closely, you can make out a word or two every now and then.

Derek hears the sound again, but this time he’s ready for it, and he leaps off his vantage point and tears through the underbrush, teeth gnashing, eyes red.

He skids to a halt when he enters a small clearing. A length of red twine connects seven trees until it comes back on itself, making a lumpy circle of sorts. Off each length of twine, between one tree and the next, hang small wooden tokens, square in shape, twine threaded through a hole near one of the corners. Derek thinks there might be writing or runes on them, but he’s too focused on what’s inside the circle to investigate further. On two slabs, floating several feet off the ground, are both Stiles and Alison, tied up with what looks like the same twine that surrounds them. He can’t make out Stiles’ upper body due to a tree blocking his line of sight, but he’d recognize those lanky legs and scuffed-up high-tops anywhere. He sees Alison’s profile, and, unfortunately, she doesn’t look too great. There’s a length of cloth tied around her head acting as a gag, and her face is sporting more than a few bruises and cuts.

That’s not all, though, because of course it isn’t. Good things don’t happen to Derek Hale, remember?

Not one, not two, but three hulking, vaguely human-shaped figures stand within the circle, along with a single hooded figure.

What’s more is that Derek can’t smell any of them.

When he sees one of the mammoth figures move a bit, he realizes that he can’t hear them, either.

The figure that had started moving comes to a stop next to the slap Stiles is tied up on. It raises a gigantic, meaty fist and-

Derek is moving before his brain can catch up with his feet. He tears out of the foliage, and as he passes into the circle, a strange feeling ripples through him, sends a shiver down his spine.

Witchcraft.

The hooded figure takes one look at Derek and then flees like his ass is on fire. Derek moves to give chase, but narrowly misses the haymaker one of the lumbering figures throws at him. He flips backward to dodge it, and with it his shoulder catches a length of twine, his body weight snapping it easily.

A little more hell breaks loose after that, because why not, right? In for a penny, in for a pound. As soon as the twine snaps, the two slabs holding Stiles and Alison fall to the ground with a tremendous sound that makes Derek wince.

The three figures don’t pause in their assault, however. They move fast for their size, and when Derek executes a move that would take off the arm of a normal being, he almost twists his spine in two trying to dodge the creature’s countermove.

“Derek!” he hears Alison yell.

“Little busy!” Derek shouts back, snaking behind a tree.

“No, Derek, they’re golems! There’s a word carved into their foreheads! If you erase the first letter, they’ll stop moving!”

It takes some fancy footwork on Derek’s part to manage to get high enough to reach the creature’s forehead, but one well-placed claw swipe has the golem crumbling into dirt. The next golem goes down as easy as the first, but the third gets in a good punch. It sends Derek flying back, but he easily rights himself. As he moves back to his full height, he bites his teeth and pops his shoulder back into the socket. For one moment, he feels a searing pin-point of white-hot pain, but it’s over in the blink of an eye, and Derek’s back to being fight-ready.

He snarls, then charges the creature, his dense muscles knocking the thing off balance. Another swipe to a forehead and the golem crumbles under him.

Derek jumps back to his feet quick as he can, rushing back to where Stiles and Alison still are. Alison’s managed to free herself, and Derek dashes to her side, using the claw of his index finger to cut loose the twine that binds Stiles’ hands together. After that, he cuts the gag free from the boy’s face.

Stiles doesn’t thank him, because Stiles is out cold, and a little more than a little worse for the weather. He’s got a black eye and a fat lip, and there’s a dark, ugly bruise peeking out from the dip of his t-shirt.

“Can you-” Alison starts to ask, but Derek’s already scooping Stiles’ unconscious body into his arms.

“Are you alright to walk?” he asks Alison.

“I’ll be fine if we go slow.”

It takes almost an hour to get back to where Derek had parked the Camaro. Derek has Alison reach into his pocket to grab his phone and call the others, then, when that’s done, she tells him the story of what had happened since she’d been taken.

Stiles wakes up right as Derek is able to see the road.

“Am I being carried like a damsel in distress?” Stiles slurs.

“I could have thrown you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes,” Derek answers. He’s at least a little pleased Stiles feels good enough to be sarcastic. Though, to be fair, there’s never really a time Stiles isn’t sarcastic. Even in life-or-death situations, he can’t keep his mouth shut.

“Oh, man, don’t talk about food. I haven’t eaten in three days.”

Derek growls at that, displeased. He thought it had been a trick of the moonlight, but Stiles’ cheeks and eyes looked sallow and thin when Derek had picked him up.

Alison reaches into his other pocket and frees his keys and helps Derek gently heft Stiles into the passenger’s seat, the back of the chair laid as far back as it can go. Once safely seat-belted in, Derek lets Alison climb into the back.

The trip back to town is quiet. It’s a little disconcerting, considering what a motormouth Stiles usually is. Derek can tell he’s not sleeping from the patterns of his breathing and heartbeat, but he keeps his eyes closed and his body still all the same.

Everyone is already gathered back at Stiles’ house, and Derek is more than relieved for the lack of police cruiser in the driveway.

Scott crowds around Alison, helping her out of the back seat of the Camaro, and Chris’ face scrunches up like he’s just caught a bad smell.

Derek doesn’t really bother with anyone else, though Erica is the one who opens the front door for him. He carefully navigates up the stairs and brings Stiles into the bathroom that’s across the hall from his room, carefully seating him atop the closed lid of the toilet. He rids the boy of his shoes first, then his shirt, while allowing the sink faucet to run until the water turns warm. He wets a washcloth and rings it dry, handing it to Stiles as he fishes for the first aid-kit under the sink.

“Wait, you get the golems?” Stiles asks, scrubbing at his face.

“All three that were there. It was eerie, the way they didn’t give off a scent.”

“Golems are made out of clay or dirt. If they were made out of stuff from the preserve, of course you wouldn’t be able to sniff ‘em out. They’d just - ah, hey, careful!”

“Quit whining, it’s just peroxide. There’s a few cuts next to your black eye. And they’d just what?”

“They’d just smell like the rest of the forest.”

Derek nods, feeling a little relieved over the idea that his inability to scent the monsters hadn’t been due to some inadequacy on his part. Still, if the witch decided to make more, he’d have the same problem…

Once Stiles is patched up, Derek helps him into his bedroom and gets him to sit on the bed, grabbing him a change of clothing.

“How did you find us, anyway?” he asks.

Derek furrows his brows. He can no longer hear anyone outside of the Stilinski home, and finds himself inexplicably annoyed over the fact that no one else had come to check on Stiles after Derek had brought him into the house.

“I heard something. I don’t know what it was, but it was loud enough to get my attention.”

Stiles’ grin is blinding. “Knew it!”

Derek raises an eyebrow, trying to appear unimpressed.

“The twine wrapped around the trees and the runes on the square pieces of wood made up a silencing spell. I managed to snag a handful of gravel, and had spent the next, like, hour throwing it outside of the barrier, piece by piece.”

Derek blinks, taken off guard. Stiles’ thrown-together-on-a-hunch plan had literally been what helped Derek find them. “Smart,” he says, as close to a compliment as he’s willing to give.

Stiles grins wider in response, and something inside Derek twists a little.

“Well, I mean, it’s what got me clocked upside the head,” Stiles says as he gestures to his rather beat-up face. “And, hey, thanks for patching me up, man.”

Derek nods. “Get dressed, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Down in the kitchen, Derek makes two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, then fills a glass with water, since he figures if Stiles is hungry, he’s likely a little dehydrated, too. When he’s back inside Stiles’ room, Stiles has changed his clothes, though the boy is now laying half on the bed, his knees bent and feet flat on the floor.

Derek puts the food on the bedside table.

“Get some rest,” he tells Stiles and he heads for the window.

“Derek,” Stiles calls.

Derek stops, and then turns his head over his shoulder.

“I mean it.” Stiles’ voice is softer, and Derek can hear the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks for the rescue and the Florence Nightingale treatment. And thanks for, you know, the whole golem-slaying thing. Though I am a little disappointed I didn’t get to see them go down. You’ll have to give me a play-by-play so I can add it to the bestiary.”

“Get some rest, Stiles,” Derek reiterates, avoiding saying anything else by means of jumping out the window.

He knows what that pang had been, there, in his chest, behind his heart.

After all, he’d felt it twice before.

And each time had ended in utter ruination for him.

So Derek does what he’s taught himself to do in order to keep himself safe.

He ignores it.

— — — — — —

Three weeks later and the door to the loft swings open, and Stiles, in a flurry of over-gesticulation and an almost-incomprehensible string of words, storms inside. He smells like anger and hurt, and makes a b-line for the musty, second-hand couch.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest and doing his best to glower.

But Stiles is already unloading his laptop from his backpack, his face screwed up in frustration. “I just need, like, an hour, okay?”

“For what?” Derek snaps back.

Stiles doesn’t even seem to notice how angry Derek had made himself sound.

“Dad’s up my ass about why I looked like I went ten rounds with Muhammad Ali the other week. I hate lying to him, but I’m not about to spill the proverbial beans about Beacon Hill’s propensity for the supernatural, so I didn’t have a choice. He’s not listening to it, which, hey, I get, but I can still get mad about it when he accuses me of being in a gang.”

Derek sits in his favorite armchair. It’s the one with the least amount of foreign scents.

Stiles turns to look at him. “Me. In a gang. I’m hardly a buck forty soaking wet.”

He can’t help it, Derek lets out a soft wuff of a laugh.

Stiles blinks at him a little in surprise and a little in awe, and Derek doesn��t miss the sudden uptick in the boy’s heartbeat. He quickly schools his features back into a scowl. “So you need an hour because your dad thinks your extracurricular activities are of a more nefarious nature?”

The spell is broken and Stiles rolls his eyes. “I need an hour because I’m really good at being an asshole when I’m mad and blurting stupid things out.”

“No, you do that on a pretty continual basis, angry or not.”

Stiles glares. “Yeah, ha ha, sassy-wolf. Laugh it up. I need an hour to do my homework in peace before he leaves for his shift, and this was the only place I could think of with a couch and outlet where I didn’t have to buy a menu item every half hour to occupy.”

Derek leans back, reaching for his unfinished book on the coffee table. “If you take anything from the kitchen, I’m charging you.”

“Love you too, big bad,” Stiles says, eyes focused on the start-up screen of his computer.

And while the boy does well to hide his tone with layers of sarcasm, Derek almost drops his book when he doesn’t hear the tell-tale skip of a lie in Stiles’ heartbeat.

He swallows, breaths out through his nose, then pushes it out of his mind. It doesn’t matter, it will never matter. Derek Hale doesn’t get nice things. No, that’s not entirely true - when Derek Hale gets nice things, the world around him crashes and burns. Sometimes literally.

— — — — — —

Isaac gets launched backward, and Derek hears him hit the wall. The concrete indents slightly where Isaac had landed, but he’s back on his feet in a heartbeat, looking more than a little pissed.

“Once I’m in charge of the territory,” the beastly intruder growls, “I’ll kill everyone that ever associated with you.” The creature laughs. “And then, I’ll turn everyone else!”

Derek’s ready for the creature to charge at him. He’s the alpha, and the beast - Derek’s weary to call it a werewolf, given how different it looks in comparison, but Stiles had been adamant - wants that alpha spark.

But even as Derek braces for impact, the blow never comes because in the next second, moving with a speed Derek didn’t know he was capable of, Stiles runs and leaps at the beast. Above his head, ready to be swung downward and clutched tightly in both hands, is, of all things. A baseball bat.

But Stiles never does things in halves, oh no. It’s not in his nature.

The baseball bat connects with the back of the beast, an awful, meaty sound echoes throughout the room. The creature stills, then falls to his knees.

“Wh-wh-wh-”

Derek notices that Stiles’ hands are empty and the bat is somehow stuck to the back of the creature.

“I carved that from a branch of mountain ash, and drove nails coated with a liquid wolfsbane mixture.”

In complete and utter awe, Derek blinks at Stiles.

The boy doesn’t notice. He’s still staring at the incapacitated creature as it sways on its knees, then falls on its side.

“The nails make sure it stays niiice and stuck in you, and the mountain ash is a great paralytic when used like this.”

“Holy shit,” Derek hears Scott whisper.

“Now, because the wolfsbane is a mixture, there’s no way for you to naturally find what’s in it before it kills you. I have the antidote.”

True to his word, Stiles pulls out a small vial from his pocket.

“I’m giving you two options. You can lay here and die, and hey, that solves all of my problems. Or I can take the bat out, give you the antidote, and you’ll never hurt anyone again.”

The beast growls from his position on the floor. “Wh- what’s to st-st-stop me from going b-b-back on my w-word?”

Stiles smiles. “Because Alison Argent’s archery skills rival Hawkeye, and I made her entire cache of arrows the same way I made the bat stuck in your back.”

“Okay, I s-s-swear.”

It’s hard to miss the fear in the beast’s eyes.

Stiles, without any soft of gentleness, puts his foot on the side of the beast, then uses it as leverage to pull what Derek now knows to be a nail bat from his flesh. It’s a sickening sound, and a few of the nails drip with fur and blood, but as soon as it’s free, the beast takes in a shuddering gasp of air. Stiles tosses the vial on the floor next to the creature, then digs out a lighter from his pocket.

“You have until sunrise to get out of the county.”

Stiles doesn’t look back as he walks toward the door, and everyone follows suit, including Derek.

Outside, as they near their cars, Derek watches as Stiles gestures for Isaac to come near. Careful to stay a fair distance away, Derek watches as Stiles looks over Isaac like a doting mother hen might.

“I’m fine. The broken ribs already healed,” he hears Isaac say.

Stiles nods, then pats Isaac on the shoulder. As Isaac walks away, Stiles looks around and makes eye-contact with Derek. The boy gestures him over, then turns around and starts digging in the back seat of his Jeep, where he’d stashed his ridiculous weapon.

“What?” Derek asks as he nears.

Stiles doesn’t even turn around, just hands him a bundle of stuff. When Derek takes it, he sees it’s a pack of baby-wipes and a new shirt.

Derek’s lack of movement is likely what tipped Stiles off, because it’s not a moment later when he speaks. “I know how much you hate getting crap in your car. Figured this would come in handy eventually.”

Staring at the shirt and package of wipes in his hands, Derek’s mind races. Stiles had kept an extra shirt in his car. But not an extra shirt for him, no. Because as Derek holds up the shirt, he can see that it’s not in Stiles’ size; it’s in his.

His mouth goes dry as he turns away and heads toward his Camaro.

— — — — — —

It never gets any easier, the anniversary of when his family had…

But he hasn’t visited his mother’s grave since he and Laura left, and as much as it hurts, he knows he should. Maybe it’ll finally give him a little closure, or maybe Derek just likes inflicting all manner of pain upon himself; it could go either way.

What surprises him, however, is the fresh bouquet of flowers already decorating his mother’s headstone. He blinks in surprise, then furrows his brow. It’s been years since his family had died. Who would bring them flowers after all this time?

The cemetery is mostly dark. It’s just before sundown, and the tall trees that pepper the pristine-grass and well-kept headstones make long shadows. But who is Derek kidding, he’d recognize that stupid red hoodie anywhere.

Part of him is mad, and he doesn’t quite understand why. Misplaced anger, maybe, or something more deeply rooted. As he nears Stiles’ sitting form, ready to verbally tear into the kid, he stops short.

“And, like, you should have seen it! The whole kitchen was a mess!” Stiles laughs, then the sound tapers out into a sigh. “He misses you. I mean, I miss you, too. But I know it’s different for dad. When you lose someone you love the way dad loves you, it’s like you’ve lost a piece of yourself.”

Derek swallows.

Stiles sighs again, then rubs a palm over his face. “And I know I’m not making it any easier on him. But you understand why I can’t say anything, right? He’d blow his top, never let me leave the house. Sometimes I wish I could tell him. And maybe someday I might, or I might be forced to. But I have to protect my friends before I can protect his feelings.”

There’s a long, sad silence that follows. Eventually, Stiles moves to stand and Derek maneuvers to hide himself behind a tree. “Thanks for listening, mom. And thanks for sharing your flowers.”

When Derek gets home, he showers, then eats a bowl of cereal just to get something into his system. He lays in bed, staring at the exposed pipes and beams of the ceiling. Sleep doesn’t steal him away for some time.

— — — — — —

Things stay quiet for a time, which suits Derek just fine. It means he doesn’t have to deal with people; he holes up in his loft and marathons shitty TV shows on the streaming service Stiles had insisted be set up. When he can’t stand to look at the TV any longer, he reads. And, when he runs out of books, he finally leaves the warmth and solitude of his flat to venture out to the grocery store. He stocks up on what he knows he’s out of, without any sort of meal-plan in mind, then scours the pathetic section of books he finds in the same aisle as the greeting cards. Most of them have ridiculous covers and names - bodice-rippers, uncle Peter used to call them - but he finds a few that at least look somewhat promising before he heads to the checkout.

He’s almost completely done putting away the groceries when he hears Stiles let himself in. How the little shit had managed to get a key made or copied in the first place is outside the realms of Derek’s imagination.

When he turns around, it’s to see Stiles, holding out two small, wrapped gifts.

Derek furrows his brow.

One present is wrapped in Star Wars Christmas paper - R2D2 is sporting a rather stylish Santa hat - and the other, much to Derek’s surprise, is wrapped in what appears to be birthday-themed paper.

He looks up and is met with Stiles’ soft smile. “One’s for Christmas, one’s for your birthday,” Stiles tells him, like this kind of interaction is completely normal for the two of them.

When Derek doesn’t move to take them, Stile rolls his eyes and just puts them on the table. “Open ‘em or don’t, Scrooge-wolf. I’m not trying to put pressure on you or anything.”

Even though Stiles has told him there’s no pressure, Derek’s pretty sure the amount of pressure he currently feels rivals that of the deepest part of the ocean. After a moment, he musters up his, what? Courage? Fortitude? Doesn’t matter. He takes a deep breath, and reaches first for the Christmas present first. Red and green light-sabers and Princess Leia with reindeer antlers peel away to reveal a box. Inside the box is a little tissue, and when Derek finally gets what he supposes is the actual gift free of the packaging, he stills. The mug is plain white, but on the side are printed letters.

What do you call a wolf that

has his shit figured out?…

Aware-wolf!

Derek shoots Stiles a look of disdain, but it doesn’t seem to deter the boy. He’s grinning like an idiot. “I got one for Isaac that says ‘What do you call a beta wolf? A sub-woofer.’”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he lets his lips curl up into a slight smile. Terrible as the Stiles’ jokes may be, it’s not hard to see that they are never meant to be harmful.

The birthday present is next, and Stiles seems excited about this one. He leans forward a little as Derek tears open the paper. It’s another box, but it’s much smaller, and when Derek opens this one, he’s confused for a moment.

It’s a ring. But it looks like some kind of wood and epoxy mixture, with the wood making the ring portion of it and the epoxy forming an almost rectangular shape on one side. He takes it out of the box carefully and looks it over. The wood inlay looks splintered, and the transparent epoxy holds… a little moon?

“I don’t expect you to wear it or anything,” Stiles says. “It’s, uh, it’s a piece of wood from your old house. And I made the moon out of clay, because I thought, well, with the whole werewolf thing and-”

“Get out.” Derek’s voice is low and cold.

Stiles freezes. “I’m sorry, I thought you’d-”

“Get. Out.” When Stiles doesn’t move, Derek growls and lunges forward, taking a handful of Stiles’ shirt and pulling him toward the door. He shoves Stiles through and into the hallway, then slams the door before he can catch a glimpse of Stiles’ expression. He locks the door, then leans on it, the ring still clutched in one hand.

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Stiles says.

Derek doesn’t move, hardly breathes. He stays pressed against the door as he hears Stiles walk away. He remains there longer still, far past when he can hear the Jeep start and Stiles drive away.

He peels off his clothes and climbs into bed, despite it being four in the afternoon. He pulls the covers over his head like he used to when he was little, when his mom would turn out the light after tucking him in.

For a long time now, Derek’s mastered the art of trying to not care. The walls around his heart are made of solid steel, layers upon layers.

But now there’s a hole somewhere in that barrier.

He doesn’t cry. To be honest, he doesn’t think he can. He’d cried himself stupid after the fire, had sobbed almost every night for the six months following, and then he just… closed up. He’d shut the door and locked the deadbolt, because kindness and sincerity and just a dash of naivety had been the perfect mix to allow for someone to manipulate him. What had he left now? Every one he’d ever allowed himself to love were dead and gone.

And Derek couldn’t do that to Stiles, couldn’t put the burden of the curse of his heart, of him vulnerable, on Stiles’ shoulders.

— — — — — —

“Stiles, hey - hey, keep your eyes open!”

Derek’s voice is frantic. He cups Stiles’ head in his broad palms, a protective barrier between the back of the boy’s head and the cement below.

Stiles blinks one eye open - the other is already swollen shut.

They’d found the witch with a penchant for creating golems, the one that had kidnapped Stiles and Alison months ago. But this time, instead of three, the damn bastard had made an army of the fuckers, giant, lumbering automatons that swung their ham-sized fists without restraint.

The fight was dirty and tiresome, and even Derek, who’s been a wolf since birth, is tired and nearly out of breath.

Stiles’ good hand, the one not resting in an unnatural manner, rises up and tugs on something that’s dangling from around Derek’s neck. His blood-splattered lips curl up into a smile, or as much as he can make of one, considering the awful state he’s in.

“Scott’s already called Malissa; there’s an ambulance on the way. Just stay awake for me, just-”

“Sourwolf, you kept it.”

Derek pauses, then looks to see what Stiles holds.

It’s the ring made with the wood of his house and the little moon sculpted by Stiles’ own fingers.

“Thought you hated me after I gave this to you.”

Unsure of what to say, Derek just shakes his head.

Stiles coughs, and Derek can hear the strain. It’s a wet sound, and Stiles is slow to take air back in. One of his lungs has likely either been punctured, or has already collapsed.

Derek’s hands are shaking.

“I need a favor, big bad.”

Stiles cuts Derek off before he has time to protest.

“If I don’t make it, keep my dad safe, alright? Make sure he’s… make sure he’s okay.”

“You’re going to be fine, Stiles.”

Stiles just smiles, blinking slowly.

“And you.”

“Me? Derek breathes.

“Allow yourself to have something nice, damnit. You deserve nice things. I know that shit’s been really bad for you for a long time, but you shouldn’t let the hurt that might come outweigh any good that comes before.”

It feels like someone has Derek’s heart in a vice-grip. He swallows, licks his lips, then does just that.

Derek Hale allows himself to have something nice.

He kisses Stiles square on the mouth.

— — — — — —

There’s no other choice to make.

They tell the sheriff what happened. Exactly what happened. Scott fumbles through a lot in his attempt at an explanation, but Derek backs him up, and is the one to shift when the sheriff threatens to have them all arrested unless they tell him the actual truth.

How could they not? His son, his only living blood, looks like he’d been in a one-on-one match with a woodchipper. The hospital did well to keep Stiles alive, but he’d flat-lined on the operation table twice, and Derek had nearly cracked his teeth from clenching so hard. Once stable, Stiles had been set up in a private room, though he hadn’t woken up yet.

Derek’s been at his side for three straight days.

Isaac brings him a change of clothes and something to sleep in, saying that even the nurses were starting to complain.

Sheriff Stilinski doesn’t seem to know what to make of the twenty-something-year-old young man that never leaves his son’s side longer than it takes for him to use the shower or restroom. But, well, he can guess. He’s not really happy with it, of course not. All things considered, however, his son is still alive, isn’t some kind of creature of the night of myth or legend, and has what likely constitutes to be as close to a superhero as you can get at his son’s back; things could have gone a lot worse.

He’ll give Stiles a week before he’s grounded until he’s eighty.

— — — — — —

Derek slides the window open. He sees Stiles partially sprawled out on his bed, laptop balanced precariously on top of a pillow.

“Hey, sourwolf,” he greets. His eyes look less sunken in, though he still hasn’t gained back all of the weight he’d lost.

Clothing the window, Derek toes his shoes off and comes to rest on the other side of Stiles’ bed. It’s small, more than a little cramped, but they make it work.

He gets comfortable, and, as soon as he’s settled, Stiles hooks a leg over his, then reaches out and laces their fingers together, all the while never moving his eyes from the screen.

It’s slow-going, this thing between them, partially because Stiles is still very much on the mend, and partially because Derek still has a hard time with intimacy, especially showing affection.

If it bothers Stiles at all, Derek would never know because it’s never been brought up. Stiles is perceptive, can obviously guess why Derek sometimes still stiffens when they touch, but he doesn’t push. It’s sweet, he thinks, the way they are slow-dancing around one another. They hold hands and watch movies, with legs or heads in laps. They press their shoulders against one another when they go out to eat and take up a single side of the booth.

They kiss.

That’s something new to Derek, the slow press of lips without the promise of something in the distance, kissing just to kiss, tasting one another for the sheer thrill of it, and then backing off slowly, with no one’s feelings hurt.

Stiles falls asleep, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder.

The avalanche has passed.

#noahreidhours #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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pastpatientlywaitingforimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Andromeda | Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 1865

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 03x05 AND THE SECOND HALF OF SEASON 12, prison Reid, mentions of trauma/anxiety/therapy.

A/N: Remember this post? I was talking about this fic. Anyways, the concept of both Spencer and Reader being groomed for the BAU was one that intrigued me so I wrote this. One day I’ll get tired of writing for this universe but today is not that day. Enjoy!

GALAXY MASTERLIST (not needed to understand the plot but there’s similar content here if you liked this fic!)

You had seen a lot of bad things in your life, but hands down the worst thing you had ever seen was Spencer Reid sitting on the other side of the partition in the prison visiting room. As always your proximity to the doctor cleared your head and relaxed you in a way you hadn’t felt in weeks, but due to the circumstances you knew it was only because he was alive.

“I don’t like this,” you wasted no time making your feelings known.

“I know, me neither,” even though he was alive, you could tell your friend was in rough shape, “how are you doing?”

You breathed a laugh, “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m the same as I was when Garcia visited last week, and we both know she called you as soon as she left here.”

He was right, Penelope had filled you in on everything he had said when she had gone for her visit the week prior.

“Have you gone back to work yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m still not allowed in the field. My therapist keeps telling Emily I’m compromised,” you rolled your eyes, “I think being back in the field would help me compartmentalize better than doing paperwork in Penelope’s office.”

“What have you been doing outside of work?”

“Has my therapist talked to you too? Yeesh,” you rolled your eyes again, causing Spencer to crack a smile, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Luke, he reminds me of some of the guys from my Platoon. He lets me watch Roxy when the team is traveling, and we go to a veteran’s support group every Tuesday. I don’t think he actually needs the support but he definitely knows I don’t go if he’s not there.”

Spencer sighed, “support groups are good, is it helping?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I already did the work to cope with my time in the military years ago. The problem isn’t my military trauma, the problem is that my best friend is in prison and the constant anxiety is dredging up old wounds.”

Your eyes narrowed, aware that he was definitely doing a light psych eval of you in that brain of his. You half expected him to start spouting exactly what was happening in your brain that was causing the increased frequency of your episodes, but it never came.

“Will you keep going, for me?”

“Sure, but only because you asked. And if Luke says anything about it you can’t tell him I don’t think it’s working.”

“Deal,” the light banter was the most normal thing that had happened to you since bringing Spencer home from Mexico.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“I know you’re a super genius and everything, but do you ever feel like you weren’t cut out for the BAU even though you were groomed for it?”

“Yeah, I had to get waived on every physical part of training and failed my gun certification an embarrassing number of times even after I was hired. I wouldn’t have gotten the job if Gideon didn’t do some serious vouching for me. Do you… do you feel like that?” You thought it was ironic that Spencer was concerned for you when he was the one in jail.

“Out of everyone in my class at the Academy, Rossi and Hotch picked me. There were at least four other agents that were better at profiling than I was, I was not the obvious choice. My entire career has been defined by joining the BAU and yet I still get hit with some serious imposter syndrome, especially since you’ve been gone. Sometimes I wonder where I would have ended up if I hadn’t been picked, what kind of agent I’d be.”

“You would have ended up with the Hostage Rescue Team,” you knew Spencer was a know-it-all, but you were surprised at his confidence and quick response.

“How do you figure?” you questioned, watching the tips of his ears turn red as he blushed.

“Garcia and I overheard Hotch and Rossi talking about you when they came back from recruiting. We did some… ‘spelunking’ and found your file.”

“Anything juicy in there?” you teased, thoroughly amused at the image of Spencer and Penelope huddled around her desk investigating you.

“No. It said you were ex-military and had been psychologically discharged. We didn’t dig deeper into that, but I could see signs of anxiety the first time I met you so it wasn’t really going to be a secret anyways.”

“Fair, so how did you know about Hostage Rescue?”

“There was a note from their unit chief that they wanted you. It makes sense, you passed the field tests in the Academy with flying colors and you’re exceptional in the field. You would do really well on a tactical team.”

“In theory, until I have a panic attack and get thirty people killed,” you joked, “they probably asked Hotch to take me because I’d have the smallest chance of being a liability in the BAU.”

“Actually, Hotch said he liked how you had approached the exercise they had given you.”

You remembered that day like it was yesterday, Hotch and Rossi had come into your class with the bare bones of a case: an abducted child in a mall a week following a prior abduction of a similar nature. As a collective you had to solve the case, asking the right questions to get the information you needed from the two Supervisory Special Agents.

Your previously mentioned classmates that had a knack for profiling were quick to build a few theories and get a bit more information, including a glimpse of the girl on a security camera, but there were still a lot of missing pieces. Something about the whole thing felt off to you, so you finally spoke up.

“What if it was someone in her family?” Your classmates looked at you in confusion, a few of them jumping up to reiterate the evidence against your suggestion. “I see your point, and I’ll support the group if you still think I’m wrong, but hear me out. There’s evidence of the abduction being personal. I don’t think it’s related to the prior case at all.”

“The family has been with us the whole time,” one of your classmates argued.

“The father?” someone else suggested.

“No, not him,” your brain was working hard, “I think it was the aunt, Susan.”

“Well done, Agent,” you heard Agent Hotchner over the clamor of the room at your suggestion.

“Do you want to back up your theory?” Rossi asked once your classmates had settled down.

“Her husband shows signs of grooming Katie: he knows more about his niece than he does his own kid. If his wife noticed, she might be trying to protect her family. She was probably ashamed that her husband was a pedophile, her son had a record, and her marriage was falling apart. Susan already said she worked retail in a mall, even if she didn’t work at this mall she’d at least have knowledge of how malls work and where she could hide a body. The abduction from the previous week would have given her something to pin Katie’s disappearance on, and Katie would have trusted her enough to go somewhere without an obvious struggle.”

“Bingo, Agent…?” Rossi looked at you for your name.

“(y/l/n),” you offered.

“Susan took her own pain out on Katie. Our agents were able to recover Katie’s body and resuscitate her, and both Susan and her husband were brought into custody.”

Later, as class was dismissed, you were approached by the two men.

“What was it that made you look deeper into the family as suspects?” Hotch had asked.

“I just had a feeling, sir,” you told him honestly.

“What kind of feeling?” Rossi seemed genuinely interested in what you were saying.

“A gut feeling. I know we’re supposed to use the facts, and all the facts were presenting themselves as becoming a serial abduction, but it just didn’t feel right to me. When I started exploring other possibilities the relevant evidence jumped right out.”

“Sometimes we get cases with barely enough information to make decisions from. Following instincts can lead to breakthroughs that solve the whole case. Keep up the good work,” Hotch shook your hand before walking away with Rossi right behind him.

“Yeah, I went out on a limb with that one. I’ll tell you about it later,” you shook your head, knowing you didn’t have enough time to tell Spencer the whole story. He was quiet for a minute, glancing around the room before he spoke again.

“If I can’t get out of here, I think you should look into transferring to Hostage Rescue.”

“You’re not serious, are you? You’re getting out of here. I’m seeing to it personally,” you said it like it was a fact. His face told you he wasn’t kidding.

“Let me ask you this- if I’m found guilty at my trial, how are you going to take it?”

You wanted to tell him you would be fine and continue to fight for his freedom, but you both knew there was a reason your therapist wasn’t clearing you for field work that would only get worse if your best friend had to serve upwards of 25 years in jail.

The BAU without Spencer Reid just wouldn’t be the same BAU you fell in love with when Hotch and Rossi had hired you all those years ago.

“Do you really think the brass would approve a transfer to an anti-terrorism tactical unit when I can’t even get cleared for field work now?” you countered.

“I do. Your coping mechanisms are well developed. If you separate yourself from the BAU… and me… I think you could pass their psych eval just fine. And everyone knows your tactical skills are off the charts, even after you’ve taken time off.”

“You’re not a very good genius if you think you can get rid of me that easily,” you were quick to point out, “even if I did transfer, I’d still be here as much as possible. Penelope wouldn’t let me cut myself off that easily from the rest of the team either.”

“Just think about it, please.”

You sighed, “I’ll think about it, but I’m still holding out that we’re proving your innocence and you and I will be back to our shenanigans in no time.”

“I’m looking forward to it. How’s my mom doing?”

“She’s been ok, I visit every day and JJ usually comes with me. Cassie’s been really great for her,” you told him.

“Good, will you tell her I-“

“Prisoners line up!” a guard yelled.

“Will you tell her I love her?” Spencer said quickly as he stood. You nodded, watching as he lined up with the other inmates and walked away.

As you left the prison you told yourself you were never getting used to this, and you were going to start working double time on proving Spencer’s innocence. There was no family like your BAU family, and whoever had framed Spencer was not going to destroy that so easily.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #platonic soulmates #platonic imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Kikimora and King Parallels?

All right, so some discussions I’ve had with @50shades-of-blue have got me further thinking with the idea of Kikimora being King’s parallel. Honestly, I could just be projecting my speculation onto her… But with the smug way she passive-aggressively talks to Lilith in front of those kids, and how quick she is to cave into Luz’s threats while otherwise trying to be proper…

…She lowkey gives me vibes of King, if he like. Had access to ACTUAL power and authority, like he rode on the coattails of Luz or Eda as they ascended, and he KNOWS he’s above everybody else as a result of this! And he’s proud and smug of it, like, “Look at my friend, they’re so cool and powerful! And I’m THEIR friend, what’re you gonna do about it!?” There’s that subtle energy of being a little shit and a gremlin beneath it all… And Kiki comes across as more ‘mature’ because she’s had more experience, access to lessons on ‘proper manners and dignity’, and isn’t constantly frustrated by a lowly position in society and is thus less prone to temper tantrums, but.

By the end of the day, she’s still a gremlin, and like King, she can get in over her head; So at the first sight of a legitimate issue, she caves into Luz’s threats (though this could just be blamed on runtime issues), just as King quickly defaults to getting the help of someone like Hooty, or running from Half-Cursed Eda! But maybe like King (or not these characters are also contrasts as well), Kikimora is someone who WILL lay her life down whenever her friends are directly threatened… Hence her genuine concern at seeing what Luz did to Belos, and insisting she avenge him afterwards.

Then, there’s what @50shades-of-blue suggested about Kikimora having been with Belos since the very beginning… Like, the concept of her having been a lowly grifter/scavenger like King, a petty thief down-on-her-luck and with a napoleon complex because of how helpless she was… But she takes to Belos, and acts as a bad-idea friend and lowkey enabler, sort of like King with Luz… But there IS some tenderness and genuine sweetness, perhaps! Like maybe Kikimora DOES care for Belos as an actual friend and not just a vehicle for power (not to say she doesn’t enjoy those benefits either)…

And you know how King is an author and talks big of himself? If Kikimora is his parallel, then what if she was someone who helped Belos write propaganda and speeches, helped persuade the Boiling Isles to how GREAT this dude was, wrote history in his favor and basically acted as his hype-woman? Sort of like King, but he’s directing his hype-talk towards his friends, which is also something he’d totally do!

Alternatively, perhaps her relationship with Belos is a lot less warm… Again, as a contrast to Luz and King amidst the parallels, and like how Lilith and Amity are a lot colder and more professional towards one another! Perhaps as a dark reflection of Luz and King’s friendship, Belos and Kikimora only really value one another for what the other can provide; Belos lets Kiki around because she acts as his public face, hyping him up to young generations and spreading his lies to the news outlets. While Kiki supports Belos, because this means power and authority- Almost commensalistic, but Kikimora still has her own things to provide!

Maybe Kikimora’s relationship with Belos is like King, where she gets away with stuff because she can basically ‘hide behind Belos’ for protection, even if she’s also capable of magic as well! Can you imagine a younger Kiki acting like King, getting a younger Belos roped into her ludicrous schemes to get power or money or whatever, and like Luz, Belos goes along with it… But because he’s not exactly Luz, Belos keeps doing things without really considering the consequences? And he rises as Kikimora’s ‘top minion’ but eventually seizes control for himself… But at the same time he still keeps Kikimora around as a friend and a subordinate, you know?

And so it’s this idea of Kikimora having lowkey raised him/assisted in his rise to power, kind of like King was a reliable friend to Luz and treats her like as his ‘top minion’, but also as a real friend and makes sure to give her emotional support and love himself! And just as Luz is shaping up to be a powerful witch and likes to humor King’s fantasies, Kikimora helped Belos ‘ascend’ from common thief, as he began to take initiative and control once he got used to how things worked! Just as Luz makes the decision to challenge Belos in Eda’s absence, while King happily follows, even if he also sees himself as having to take care of and protect Luz, regardless of the fact that it’s likely to be the other way around!

Imagine Belos and Kiki having been like Luz and King, except there’s no Eda to keep them in line… Perhaps their relationship was also a bit more toxic, with Kikimora treating Belos more like an underling at times, but either way some fondness still existed, so when Belos DID rise and ‘overthrow’ Kiki, he still kept her around as a subordinate… Maybe in part to flex the reversal of roles, and because she has genuine use as his hype-woman and not somebody who’s a walking, melting body horror of a flesh-puppet.

But still; Imagine Dark Luz and King, except they’re just very selfish and enabling towards one another without stopping for self-reflection! Perhaps some issues will come into play about Kiki wanting Belos for himself or something alone those lines, or Belos forgetting about his friend in favor of other connections… Who knows? If Belos is Luz if she never learned her lessons, then perhaps Kikimora could be King sans character development!

What if when Belos and Kiki first met, she also threatened to eat him or whatever like King joked about, and for a while Belos was legit afraid of this… But he also still hung around her because she provided companionship and guidance! Like Luz and King, troublemakers with hearts of gold, but those hearts are only directed towards one another, mostly, and otherwise they do NOT care about how others are harmed! Basically just utter children by this point.

For all we know, Kiki’s own past immaturity (a mirror to King’s) lowkey influenced Belos into becoming the horrific, genocidal dictator he is today, a man with no regards for the lives of others he doesn’t care about or who don’t ‘fit in’ with this ideals! Like, perhaps like King during Really Small Problems, Kikimora didn’t want to lose Belos and was possessive of him…

But instead of maturing, Kikimora opted to isolate Belos from any other friends and positive influences, which contributed to Belos becoming so terrible! And if Belos realizes this, or does… Would he care? Would he care on the principle of how reliable Kiki is to him, or have they reached a point where she’d never betray him regardless because of what SHE has to lose? Not to mention how Belos may see his current path in life as the ‘proper’ one, so perhaps Kiki isolating him was for the best….

Maybe it’ll directly parallel King’s antics with the Trash Slug, or Sergeant New Guy; Maybe Kiki was even deliberately harsh towards Belos to keep her sense of power and control, but also to keep him dependent upon her… But in the end, Belos became stronger and rebelled! But at the same time, he still kept Kikimora around… Perhaps because there was still some fondness there? Because they still had uses for one another? Maybe Kikimora still has some level of control and manipulation over Belos, at least enough to convince him to keep her around, even if she’s no longer in charge like she used to be…

And just as Belos may be codependent and even parasitic to the Titan, perhaps Kikimora is the same to him as well? Or at the very least it’s a lot better… Could you imagine if Belos ‘realizes’ Kikimora’s power/manipulation over him? And Belos decides that he’s had enough of her ‘parasitically’ riding on his coattails, but not providing him anything that couldn’t easily be replaced… So he cuts ties by firing Kikimora and replacing her? And alone and dejected, Kiki has nowhere else to gobesides the Owl House?

Alternatively, Kikimora acts as the only person Belos will listen to that can actively act as a buffer between him and going completely all-out with no reservations or brakes… But then Belos decides to ‘discard’ her because he thinks Kikimora is limiting him, when in reality he’s actually keeping Belos from going too far? Maybe she’ll act as his Voice of Reason, as the only person Belos will listen to when it comes to criticisms and reconsidering his actions…

Only for that to abruptly end as the Day of Unity nears and Belos becomes more anxious? As Belos’ public face, Kikimora could function as someone who reins the Emperor in. because she’s most familiar with/concerned about the Emperor’s Coven appearing palatable to Belos’ subjects, given how that’s her entire job? So she’ll sometimes advise Belos NOT to utterly eradicate this small community off the face (not the actual skull) of the Boiling Isles, just beat them into submission?

Not out of a genuine concern for these people, mostly just to be pragmatic, and/or she IS concerned about Belos getting a little too nuts… Then again, we also see Kikimora suggest attacking the Owl House in retaliation for Belos’ damage, and it’s Belos who makes the decision on his own to ‘sate’ the public by pretending to spare Eda’s life, and doesn’t bother trying to actively arrest/suppress them –even if they’re in the middle of the Conformatorium- because that’s just not necessary, and he has better things to do?

So perhaps instead, Kikimora will operate from an inferiority complex and be the hotheaded one, like King, vouching for Belos to utterly annihilate his opponents, just as King tells Luz to ‘beat up the man and steal his things’, while Belos/Luz offer a more calm, pragmatic approach that doesn’t require violence because they’re more practical like that? Or alternatively…

It’s BOTH options, just like how King will sometimes encourage Luz to decimate their opponents, but when the time calls for it, he can act as a voice of reason and tell Luz NOT to challenge the Emperor himself! Sometimes Belos wants to commit genocide and Kiki has to rein him in, because what of his reputation…? And sometimes Kikimora will want to go for the nuclear option while Belos calmly suggests just reasoning with people and keeping them satisfied!

Kikimora suggests making petrifications hidden from the public to prevent them from turning on Belos… But then the Season Finale happens, she feels power slipping away and panics in-part because of her inferiority complex, so she suggests petrifying the ENTIRE crowd as an example! And of course, Belos calmly reminds Kikimora that this isn’t necessary, that believe it or not, people won’t rebel if they’re given what they want!

Kikimora advises revenge against the Owl House because her pride has been hurt, because she’s felt threatened and vulnerable for the first time in a LONG while, which means she has to utterly eradicate the opposition to leave no room for doubt who’s in charge, to leave no chance of more threats? But Belos is calm, and has control of the situation, he’s not as insecure as Kikimora and is thus less liable to acting rashly when he feels threatened. In essence, they both take turns sharing the brain cell… Just like Luz and King!

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house kikimora #the owl house king #the owl house belos #emperor belos #the owl house luz #luz noceda #speculation #theory

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years ago

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Out Of The Way (Part 2)

Summary: When the reader’s boyfriend ditches her on the side of the road, she ends up at an out of the way bar and roadhouse where the man behind the counter makes her an interesting offer…

Part 1

Pairing: Bartender!Dean x au!reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, slight angst

_______

“Your new bartender makes a mean manhattan,” said some guy at the bar. You were wiping down a table after a few guys had left, Dean chuckling from behind the counter.

“You just think she’s got a cuter face than mine, Jim,” said Dean.

“It’s good you got some help. You could use another pair of hands,” said Jim. You felt his gaze on you as you bent down to pick up a coaster.

“Hey,” said Dean. “This ain’t Hollow’s Point. You want that kind of service-”

“I’m just looking,” he said.

“Keep it at just looking or she’ll kick you ass,” said Dean. You smirked as you carried back the empty bottles to the kitchen area and washed them out, setting them in the recycle bin. You hummed as you walked back out front with a bottle of Jack, Dean just setting the empty one in his hand down on the bottom shelf. “Reading my mind there.”

“You worked in bars before, sweetheart?” asked Jim.

“Done a lot of things, sweetheart,” you said, spotting a hand wave from a corner table. “Excuse me.”

“I should have hired you sooner,” chuckled Dean from his office after closing as you set the cleaning supplies back in the closet there. “We got a lot more tips this week. A lot.”

“Drunk men like to look at women. Some things never change,” you said. Dean nodded and took an envelope out from a drawer in his desk. He held it out and you grabbed it. You peeked inside and looked up. “This is more than we agreed to.”

“Well it ain’t like you’re paying taxes on it. You’re good. Clean, serve, keep everyone happy. You keep tabs on inventory. You earned it,” he said. “And here is your half of the tips.”

“I can’t take half,” you said as he set half the wad of cash down in front of you.

“We pool tips here and once again, these boys aren’t tipping to look at my pretty face all night long,” he said. You grabbed the money and shoved it in the envelope, tucking it in your back pocket. “I’m heading into Southbend in the morning if you want to stop into town and pick anything up.”

“I’m okay,” you said, turning out of his office. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Morning,” said Dean as he carried in a few grocery bags.

“Morning,” you said, eating some toast at the bartop.

“You ever eat anything aside from toast and eggs?” he asked, setting the bags down.

“It’s cheap,” you said, taking another bite.

“Yeah well, happy birthday,” he said, pulling out a pink box and setting it on the bartop. You flipped it open and saw a cupcake inside. “It is your birthday today, isn’t it?”

“I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years,” you said, staring at the thing.

“Well, celebrate it. Feel free to store some actual food in the kitchen too,” he said, grabbing his bags.

“Hey, Dean?” you said when he got to the stairs to go up to his apartment. “Thank you.”

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” he said with a smile.

Fifteen minutes later he was downstairs, watching you sweep up the floor. He popped behind the bar and sat up on the counter, giving you a smile.

“It’s Sunday. Let’s do something fun,” he said.

“Fun?” you said, tucking the broom back in the corner.

“We aren’t allowed to sell alcohol on Sunday’s around here. It’s our day off. Either we can hang around here and make this place even cleaner than it already is, or we can go have some fun,” he said.

“I prefer to keep a low profile,” you said.

“Come on. I got a perfect idea.”

“You like fishing?” he asked as you sat on the end of a quiet dock.

“I haven’t been since I was little,” you said. “You?”

“Yeah. I like fishing,” he said. It was quiet a few minutes aside from him reeling every so often. “I used to go a lot with my dad and brother.”

“How long have you been pretending?” you asked.

“Five years, like you,” he said. “Too late to say I’m innocent now.”

“Yeah. I get that,” you said.

“The guy, he was your boyfriend right?” asked Dean.

“Yeah. He cheated on me with this married woman. It was her husband that did it. I know it was. But she vouched for him and gave him an alibi,” you said.

“You didn’t have one so you got the short end of it,” he said.

“My DNA was all over the apartment. It was our kitchen knife so my fingerprints were on it. I was fucked,” you said.

“Did you forgive him?” he asked.

“For the cheating, no. I didn’t wish him dead though. He didn’t deserve that,” you said.

“You’re a good person,” said Dean. You reeled in your line and set it beside you, Dean giving you a smile. “For a fugitive.”

“What about you? No alibi either?” you asked.

“I was set up by a crooked cop,” he said. “He killed a guy he was having a problem with and tried to pin it on me. This cop was selling confiscated drugs. He put the blame on me for the whole deal.”

“Why?”

“Because I was his rookie partner,” he said. You swallowed, Dean staring at you. “I ain’t been a cop in a long time. Good guys, bad guys. They’re both on both sides of the line. It don’t matter.”

“So you ran,” you said.

“Yup. Ran when my brother told me they had an airtight case. I was away for life in a shithole and as an ex-cop I’d be lucky to survive a week in a place like that. So we called our family friend and I ran to one of his hunting cabins. I hid there for awhile until he told me about a roadhouse bar he’d purchased, out in nowhere. I dyed my hair black and moved here. It’s a safe place,” he said.

“Life sucks sometimes,” you said.

“Yup,” he said. “I haven’t had an honest conversation in years. I had to cut off all ties to everyone. I’m sure you get that.”

“Yeah, I do,” you said. “If you were still a cop, would you have believed me?”

“I think so,” he said. “Gut feeling.”

“Thanks for the cupcake,” you said.

“You get me one for my birthday and we’re even,” he said. “January 24th.”

“Alright. Deal.”

Three Months Later

“Curly fries and whiskey straight,” you said, setting the items down in front of the older man at the bar, turning to the man with him. “Roadhouse nachos and tequila. You boys enjoy.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” said the first man, staring at you. You tilted your head, the other man standing up and pushing back his jacket, letting you see the Marshall’s badge on his hip. “We ain’t even working your case. Just heading home from another one when we see one of the runners serving us our drink.”

“Is there a problem here, fellas?” asked Dean as he walked over, throwing his arm over your shoulder.

“You regularly employee fugitives?” asked the one who was standing. Dean stared at him and burst out laughing. “Something funny about that boy?”

“Hallie? A criminal?” asked Dean. He looked at you and started to giggle. “This girl couldn’t even disect a frog in high school.”

“That ain’t no Hallie. It’s-”

“Uh, I think I know my best friend from school, buddy,” said Dean, narrowing his eyes. “The better question is what the hell are two cops doing trying to scare my girlfriend into leaving with them.”

“Hey. We weren’t-”

“Any fellas that try to force my girl to go with them ain’t welcome here,” said Dean.

“Listen kid-”

“Her name is Hallie,” said Dean. “I don’t know who the fuck Y/N is but I hope you two sickos don’t find her.”

“Where’s her liquor license to be serving?” asked the first one. Dean went to the wall behind the bar and grabbed a little picture frame off the shelf, shoving it on the counter.

There was a picture of you, Hallie Stormer, with a Tennessee certification.

The men looked at one another as you stood behind Dean.

“Well?” said Dean.

“Apologies. Ms. Stormer here looks an awful lot like one of our fugitives is all,” said the man. He pulled out his phone and showed over an old picture of you, Dean raising an eyebrow at it.

“Uh, not to tell you how to do your job but that don’t look like Hallie. At all. She ain’t even got the same color eyes,” said Dean. The men quickly looked at the picture and then you.

“He’s right about the eyes,” mumbled the one.

“Shit,” said the other one.

“Now you two can apologize to my girlfriend and get out,” said Dean.

“Sorry miss,” they said before they slapped some money and left. You sighed and tucked the food back behind the counter, Jim watching from down the bar.

“We got a problem, Jim?” asked Dean.

“Nope,” he said. Dean gave him the free food and drinks, Jim watching as you leaned back against the counter.

“You thought the colored contacts were dumb,” mumbled Dean.

“Is Jim gonna be a problem? He knows I’m Y/N,” you said.

“Take my car and head up to one of those hunting cabins for a few days. Lay low for awhile,” he said.

“Be careful,” you said, getting a kiss from him.

“You too, sweetheart.”

Three Days Later

“Morning,” said the minimart owner as he rang up your items. “On vacation?”

“Yeah, taking a few days to enjoy nature, get away from city life,” you said with a smile.

“That’s good. We don’t get too many young folks up here doing that sort of thing anymore,” he said. You hummed and looked at the TV in the corner, doing your best to hide your surprise when you saw Dean’s face on the screen. “Oh, you haven’t heard about that yet? Not surprising, not much cell reception up here. That boy is that killer cop they never caught from a few years back.”

“How’d they catch him?” you asked.

“Some bar or something. Some guy caught him lying or something,” he said as he handed over your change.

“Thanks,” you said, taking your things and rushing out of there. You tossed them in the passenger seat and drove until even you didn’t know where you were. Until an idea crossed your mind that was.

“Y/N?” said Dean the next day. You smiled as he was led out of the police station, giving you a hug. “How...they said my charges were dropped.”

“The other cop confessed,” you said, a pair of officers nearby standing up. “I can be convincing...also I pointed the police in the way of his bank account and it was pretty obvious from there.”

“What about you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, the officers flanking either side of you. “No such luck.”

“Y/N-”

“Hey. It was my fault they found you. I’m paying it forward. You can go home, be normal now,” you said.

“She didn’t do it,” said Dean to the officers.

“It’s alright,” you said as one put a hand on your arm to lead you in the back. “I’ll be okay, Dean.”

“Y/L/N,” said a guard a few hours later. You stood up from your bench, the door sliding open. You walked out and followed the officer, spotting a guy you didn’t recognize standing in the hall.

“You must be, Y/N. Sam Winchester,” he said. He held out his hand and you shook it.

“I thought your brother was tall,” you said, Sam smiling. “Let me guess. He put you up to this.”

“Ever hear of something called the Innocence Project?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s where lawyers work pro bono for people that were wrongly convicted,” you said.

“Well, I called up a friend of mine in the DA’s office and presented my case file from college. There’s a glaring bit of lack of DNA testing on samples that does not look good for that local department. He’s willing to let you out on bond in the meantime, with supervision,” he said.

“What’s that mean?” you asked as he waved you to follow.

“It means you’re sharing my guest room with my brother for the foreseeable future but something tells me you won’t have a problem with that.”

“This thing itches,” you said, scratching at your ankle that night as Dean set down a box of pizza in front of you. “Thanks for busting me out.”

“Anytime,” he said, Sam walking in through the front door looking very tired. “How’s it going?”

“The wife and husband from Y/N’s case are going through a nasty divorce right now. I’m going to call tomorrow, see if she’ll flip on him for immunity. That along with DNA evidence should get you in the clear. You might even get a small settlement,” said Sam.

“I really hope so. I don’t think I’ll do well in prison,” you said.

“It’ll be alright,” said Dean as he took a seat and rubbed your arm. “We’ll get through it. We always do.”

One Month Later

“Alright,” said Marshall Bradshaw. “Your 100 hours of community service are up kid.”

“I didn’t even break a law,” you said, peeling off your orange vest and chucking it in the back of his truck.

“You kind of did with the whole evading the police thing,” he chuckled. “You’re lucky that judge liked you. He could have sentenced you for running off.”

“I don’t get a record for all this?” you asked.

“Still no record. Come on, I’m sure you want to get back to that boyfriend of yours,” he said.

Two hours later you were dropped off and gave the Marshall a wave, popping into the roadhouse bar to have Dean come over and give you a hug.

“All done,” you said. “I can come home now.”

“You know, now that I actually have access to my bank account again, that family friend offered to sell me this place if I wanted to run it,” he said.

“I have one condition,” you said.

“Anything. It’s our bar,” he said.

“I want to hire a chef, have it be a restaurant too. Trust me, this is the only joint for miles and we could make a killing serving something besides bar food,” you said.

“You really want to run a bar with me?” he asked.

“Us criminals have to stick together,” you giggled.

“Yes, we do,” said Dean, watching a pair of Marshall’s walk in the door. “Gentlemen.”

“Hallie,” said one with a smirk. “We get those drinks this time around?”

“On the house,” said Dean as he took off.

“Hey,” said the other one as he waved you over. “The eyes thing, how’d you pull that off?”

“Colored contact lenses,” you said. “Not cheap but effective.”

“We’re gonna have to remember that one,” he said.

“I’ll get you guys some food too,” you said. You headed back for the kitchen, Dean whistling as he was pulling a fresh tray of ice from the freezer. “Think we could make something of this place?”

“I’m game if you are,” he said. “We could always runaway again.”

“Nah. I’m done running. This was the first place that felt like home in a long time. I want to stay.”

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

______

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #au #bartender!au #bartender!dean

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ltbroccoli · 4 years ago

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Warning: Tony/brashir is a bully.

EDIT: Tony has had the callout doc taken down twice. Please see the post linked here to access a new version of it.

Anyone who knows me knows that I despise getting myself involved in drama. However, there are times when it's necessary, and one such time is to defend a friend. This post is rather long, but I ask you to please read it in its entirety. This is a summary of a full length callout, which you can read here.

Some of you may have seen the post by Tony (brashir) calling out Serena (empathicstars) -- if you haven't, I'll link to it here. It's pretty shocking, and horrifying to read. There's just one problem: none of it is true.

Tony had a bad breakup with his fiance, Ray, back in August of 2019 (some of you may remember him as seamworn). Tony claims that Ray was abusive towards him. This is a lie. Ray has made mistakes, certainly, and their relationship was not a healthy one. But all of Tony's claims of abuse simply don't line up, and most of the evidence points to Tony as the abusive one. The same is true for Tony's other claims -- that Ray is racist, that he fakes his triggers, that he's stolen money, that he forces survivors to write r*pe with him, etc. -- all are untrue.

After their breakup, Serena chose to remain friends with both Tony and Ray. She was extremely upfront about this decision, and Tony told her repeatedly, for months, that this was fine. He did try to manipulate her into dropping Ray, but she never did so, as Ray had actually apologized for his actions and was working hard to become the best person he could be away from Tony's influence.

In regards to Tony's claim that Serena is best friends with a racist white person: this is referring to me. About a year and a half ago, someone in the Doctor Who RPC added the character Krasko, who is canonically a racially motivated mass murder, to their multimuse. Tony and others in the RPC burst into action, calling this person out and harassing them over their choice of muse. I am someone who is very open about separation of IC and OOC -- it's featured prominently in my rules that I do not believe writing something is the same as supporting it -- and felt very uncomfortable watching this go down.

I did not address the situation directly, but I did reblog a rather targeted PSA post. Ray (still together with Tony at the time) messaged me to confront me about it. I then blocked him at his request, and took the chance to cut off Tony and several others in the RPC that I had been growing more and more uncomfortable with. In hindsight, I was not as open to conversation as I could have been, and I don't think I would defend that person's writing today, not unless I actually knew them and could personally vouch for the respectfulness of their portrayal. However, I would still defend them from harassment, as that is never an appropriate response under any circumstances.

Serena and I did discuss this at the time, and she made it clear that she did not agree with my stance. However, we still remained friends. Serena was again upfront about this, and no one ever told her to drop me. The claim that Serena is ignoring BIPOC voices is untrue. The BIPOC voices he's referring to are only him and his friends, and those voices have lied to her face. Serena was told clearly, directly, and repeatedly that it was okay to be friends with Ray, that it was okay to be friends with me. Then a few months ago, Tony dug up the incident I had with Ray so he could turn on a dime and attack Serena for it, triggering her and driving her out of their friend group for good.

Additionally, since this has happened, Serena has been directly harassed and most recently doxxed. A friend still in Tony's server gave Joel (Serena's husband) a warning that Serena's phone number had been shared in the group, and that they were signing her up for spam. Since then, Serena has received various Trump and Republican propaganda texts, as well as explicit imagery and videos. The group has also evaded blocks to harass her on Tumblr. Ray has been dealing with similar forms of harassment for over a year now, and I've even had a small taste of it myself when one of Tony's group made an alt Discord account in an effort to sneak into one of my servers.

At this point, I frankly don't care what Serena or Ray supposedly did or did not do. This behavior is unacceptable. This behavior is illegal. Both Serena and Ray have tried to apologize, tried to ignore everything and move on, but Tony keeps dragging the same issues up, over and over, refusing to let anyone let it go.

And this is not motivated by racism, whatever Tony claims. If racism were the root of the problem, I would be the target, not Serena. Yet I have received almost nothing about this, while Serena has been doxxed and harassed. The root of the problem is that Serena did not cut Ray off like Tony wanted, and he lost his control over her. He's masked his anger as social justice to rally his friend group against her.

I cannot stress the following statement enough: Tony is a bully. He is a liar, an abuser, a manipulator, and so much more. This has reached the point where legal action is being seriously considered, and that is not a decision any of us have made lightly. We have also been reporting this to Discord and to Tumblr, in hopes that something will force this to come to an end; this process is ongoing.

Over the past several months, I have been working on a callout to bring all of this to light, in the hopes that others will see how bad the situation has been and hopefully take measures to protect themselves from being targeted in the way that we have. That document is now complete, and it's linked here. It's quite long, but it debunks Tony's many false claims and provides evidence for everything I've stated above. It also namedrops everyone in Tony's friend group that has been directly involved in his harassment and doxxing, for awareness.

If you feel that Serena, Ray, or I have done something unforgivable -- I understand. If you feel you must cut us off, we will miss you, but we will not fight you on it. But please, please do not trust Tony, and be extremely wary if you choose to keep him in your life.

And if you feel so inclined, please reblog this post so that others can see Tony and his friends for the bullies that they truly are. If you have any questions or concerns, please contact me or Joel directly and off-anon (he can be reached on @solitaryskies or @themekets). Serena has requested not to be contacted about this, for her own mental health; please respect this.

#computer end program ( .｡.:*☆ OOC. )#drama /#callout /#namedrop /

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acefeather2002 · 4 years ago

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The Tickle Monster Tussle (Moceit)

*This was my first requested shot on Wattpad. If you have a request, feel free to leave it in the comments, or you can "Ask" me. Keep in mind that those shots will take a while to get done though, frankly. I hope you like it. Also, the next stories that I post that include Deceit will have him named as "Dolion" (Greek origin; means "deceit" or "liar") because this was before the snek's name was revealed (and I'm too lazy to go back and change it).*

💙🐍💙🐍💙🐍💙🐍💙🐍💙🐍💙🐍💙🐍

In the Mind Palace, life is usually pretty peaceful. Sure, there's the usual banter between Virgil and Roman, but it's not like it gets terribly heated. In fact, arguments between aspects don't happen too often unless the issue is a life lesson or a reoccurring problem. Bottom line: arguments are actually seldom heard.

It's especially a TRUE rarity when one of the people involved in a somewhat heated argument is actually Morality. What's more is that he was having an argument with his boyfriend, Deceit, so a disagreement between them is really few and far between. Thankfully the topic of said argument wasn't anything to stress about. When you think about it...actually there's nothing to think about. It was one of those cute arguments over a little thing that's shared between lovers.

Dolion sat in Patton's room as they talked about random things. Somehow, the topic fell to who had the cutest laughter in the Mind Palace between all of them. Of course, Patton vouched for Logan saying how he hardly ever smiles or laughs. Plus, when he finally found a way to get him to laugh, it was as if the sun finally came from behind the clouds at the sound of his precious giggle. Dolion rooted for Virgil, however, and argued that his chuckles were like a rainbow coming out after a storm.

"Oh yeah?" Patton questioned his lover on his argument, "then what's your technique to hear it?" Dolion just chuckled cockily and answered, "Simple, I tickle him silly." Patton looked at him somewhat shocked and only replied with a "Wow!" Dolion looked at him like he was crazy and questioned, "What? It's the easiest way to get it out of that worry wart." Patton shook his head and stated, "No no no, it's not that. It's just that I do the same thing with Logan, and he's VERY ticklish."

Dolion chuckled at a recent memory as Patton explained himself. "Funny, I do remember an unfamiliar laugh coming from his room." Patton gave a small giggle at that and replied, "Yeah. That was him in a sensitive situation." With curiosity filling his mind, Dolion leaned back in his chair and asked, "So, tell me, Patton. How do you go about these tickle attacks on your victims?" Patton blushed a bit at the question but still answered, "I usually grab them and hug them so tight that they can't escape. Then with all the strength in one arm to hold them, I use the other to tickle away as their laughter waterfalls from their mouth. What do you do, Dolion?"

The side in question smirked and responded, "I'm glad you asked. I just outstretch my four other arms and hold my victim in the air. Then I just hold them in my reach and use my remaining two arms and hands to tease and torture the little cuties." While describing his technique, Dolion displayed said four other arms, picked Patton up into the air, and kept his limbs bound to show what he'd do. "Whoa!" Patton yelped in surprise, "that's really neat kiddo, but would you mind putting me down? This is kinda high for me." Of course, with Dolion being the loving boyfriend that he was, he lowered the height but to the point where Patton was a little closer than arms reach. However Patton noticed the mischievous smirk on his lover's face, and asked, "Dolion, what are you thinking?"

Dolion's mischievous smirk turned to a playfully evil grin as his last two hands rose to Patton's view with his fingers ready to strike. Patton finally realized what his intentions were and went into a panic but managed to utter a warning, "D-Dolion, if you do this,"he gulped, "then you are declaring a tickling war between us. Do you really wish to do this?" Dolion seemed to show a little bit of guilt as he lowered his hands...until he shot them back up and scribbled them all over Patton's ribs and in his underarms. All the while, Patton did nothing but squeal and giggle at the sensations.

"Aaahahahaha! Doliahahahahan! Stahahahap!" Patton squeaked out as he squirmed in his boyfriend's grasp. Dolion couldn't help but smile at the adorable sight in front of him. Unfortunately, he felt a strangely strong tug from the arm that held Patton's left arm up, so he scratched at that armpit to weaken the pull and earn an adorable snorted giggle. The same thing happened with the other arm, and the same reply was given. This continued three more times on each side until Patton snatched both arms free and spun out of Dolion's grip and landed on his feet like he was in a ninja movie.

Patton stood up straight and looked up with a gleefully sinister glimmer in his eyes. "Dolion," he started. "You have just declared WAR!" Patton shouted at his lover as he lunged and tackled him to the ground. Take a mental note reader: "Never underestimate Patton's strength. It's the reason why he always gives the best hugs." Speaking of hugs, Patton had Dolion on the beige carpeted floor in a hug stronger than any kind of bear hug in existence that held all but one of his arms hostage. All the while, Dolion squirmed in the grasp of his lover to try to get away, but he found his attempts to be fruitless. In a somewhat frightened panic, Dolion tried his begs for mercy, "No! NONONONONO! Patton, please. Don't do this. Please, I'm sorry. We can talk about this. Can't we talk about this?"

Obviously, the answer was no. Once you started a tickle war with Patton, there's no going back until both sides got even, and that was the one thing that Patton had in mind. While holding Dolion with one arm, he used to other to scratch and pinch at his ribs while kissing and blowing on his neck. Of course, Dolion was giggling up a storm from the sensations on his torso. He writhed in his boyfriend's grasp to try to escape, but he had to admit that the technique was quite effective.

He continued to squirm in Patton's hold in attempts to end the torture. His desperation increased ten-fold when Patton started his teasing and causing him to blush profusely. "So," Patton started, "tried to out tickle tickle tickle me, huh? Trying to see who-oochie coochie who was better, eh?" (I'm like blushing as I'm writing these teases...I'm horrible to myself...😅) "NOHOHOHOHO! PLEAHEAHEASE STAHAHAHAP! IHIHIHI'M SAHAHARRYHYHY" Dolion screamed out as he wasn't sure how much more he could handle until he realized the one arm that was still free. With that, he reached behind him and squeezed at Patton's side, which he called his "Squeak Spots" with his stomach.

Patton turned his body away from the touch while giving a respective squeak. Dolion felt the hold weakening and continued to squeeze and pinch the Squeak Spot until he was released fully. When he was finally freed, Dolion turned to straddle Patton and attacked his sides and belly as he squirmed and squealed from sensations. He then took one of his other four arms, held one of Patton's over his head, and scratched at his armpit while proceeding with his Squeak Spot onslaught. Patton was screaming and flailing at the tickling feelings while half-heartedly pushing at the torturing hands to end the attack, but he was reaching his limit and fell into silent laughter.

Dolion saw his boyfriend's flushed state and finally stopped his torture and got off of him. Patton curled in on himself, panting while trying to chase away the remaining giggles from his body. Dolion awed at his boyfriend's adorable state, picked him up, and carried him to the bed to cuddle with him. Once he finally calmed down, Patton spoke up, "I guess you did out tickle me, huh?" Dolion chuckled and responded, "I can't help it. Once I want to hear my precious bean's giggles, I won't hold back until I hear them." He finished his statement with cute little scratches under Patton's chin and around his neck to earn him some more of the aforementioned giggles that he adored. He stopped his scratches with a kiss to Patton's forehead while quietly saying, "I love you, Baby Bear." Patton gave an adorable baby yawn and replied, "I love you, too, Serpent King," and nodded off to sleep with Dolion following soon after.

#switch!patton #switch!deceit #lee!patton #tickle fluff #ler!deceit #wattpad #requested #moceit

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twice-the-twice-love · 4 years ago

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Whumpy ideas (manga spoilers)

Not for the most recent manga but until the anime has it animated its manga spoilers to me.

So I have had an idea that could have been an out for Jin to be alive. The what if he did get handed over to the hero commission by Hawkes. Jin would not want to fail but using the fist to the back of the skull with a haymaker punch instead of a sharp feather blade would be a knock out instead of a killing blow.

But ignoring the Dabi fight for one second so it would be Dabi more pushing his limits to keep up with Hawkes as he is carrying Jin out of the mansion. If Dabi hit Hawkes at that height it would be a fatal drop for Jin too so he stays his hand and goes to find some of the other league members.

Hawkes gets Jin out of the danger zone and out to a hero safety line and instructs some of them to get this man tied down he is knocked out but this is an S class villain. Hawkes knows he might be breaking the rules slightly but to make sure the students and other heroes don't have a sad mans parade wave or a bunch of cloned nomus he breaks Jins right hand.

He can't make a duplicate of what he made on the right if he can't clone from there right? Thats correct.

As we don't know how things calm down let's say for now this little group of heroes do manage to get Jin to the hero commission. Jin wakes up strapped down like how we saw stain or All for One. Jin just sees the basics around him with a 1 way mirror and knows hes being watched. But its only him here so he holds hope the others are alive and got out of dodge.

Later on when there is time.he is wheeled in for investigations on where the league would run. They know he cant get out so they tell him who got hurt and who is alive. They can make a plea bargain for Jin as Hawkes is going to vouch for him for a decent trial despite all the damage the League has caused.

Jin laughs at them then speaks up, "I'll tell you everything."

Shit. The mask was gone, he had more peace with his splitting but that could give everyone away if he wasn't careful. The people surprised with how he was going to accept the plea bargain wait for him to speak up. Jin freezes and clamps his mouth shut, "No! Fuck this if you think I'll be the reason everyone gets hurt for a third fucking time."

They nod and remember the split mentioned and footage from the Yakuza raid makes a bit more sense.

"If you don't take the plea bargain someone else will."

They let Jin sit for a few hours seeing if he changes his mind. But Jin doesn't move his mouth a damn muscle that split could fuck over everything. The league trusted him with information. He can't screw them now. Not ever again.

A day passes and he is brought back in, "Well Bubiagawara someone took the plea bargain. Someone you know, Nemoto Shin."

To Jin the name should have been Nemoto oh Shit. That was the guy who made him and Toga blab everything and with the commission asking direct questions he can't side step things like last time. He tried to bounce his foot im the straight jacket but that didn't help he knew he needed to shut himself up no matter the cost.

He just needed to bite his tongue and not say- bite his tongue. He moved his tongue between the molars on the right side of his jaw. He squeezed his jaws shut a bit more and he could feel the nerves protesting it already. He breathed out a swear as he heard footsteps. Now or never.

He moved his tongue to the front part of his mouth and bit as hard as he could. He drew blood and felt the piece of tongue on his bottom lip. Spitting it out to the side as tears rolled down his face involuntarily he pushed his tongue out and to the right and bit down again. The molars not making as much progress as he hopped as the tongue piece was attached to him. He tasted coppery blood in his mouth.

He quickly thrashed and that got him off of where his back was held against the restraint. He had speed and force. Pushing his tongue out as far as it would go and pushing his legs back to give him room he closed his eyes and slammed his chin into the table. Another large chunk of his tongue came out.

He tried to swear but nearly puked at the tongues open nerves touching things in his mouth. He spat out more blood as it dribbled down his chin and onto his nice gifted hero commission straight jacket.

Shin and the other agents came in to see Jin spitting out more blood. He gave them a red stained smile and then opened his mouth to reveal the stump of a tongue effectively muting himself.

He thought it would be over but he heard them calmly state, "He can still write get him to the medbay."

Jin gave a wheezed laugh as he got pushed away then heard the lingering comments to Shin, “With Trigger can you make him tell the truth in any form?”

“That I am unsure of, but to uphold my end of the bargain I am willing to try.”

They were going to try and get him to write all the locations for the league. But to do that he had to be careful of his timing, he could bite off his fingers, see if he could impede them from getting anything out of him for a bit longer, he knew they could add limb replacements like what happened with Shigaraki, But if he could slow them down that is all that mattered.

Jin was taking to the med bay and they patched up his tongue, he couldn’t do much else but pass out when it was plain cauterized by putting a hot piece of metal in his mouth. He thrashed slightly before unconsciousness took him. He woke up back in his jacket in his cell, they hadn’t changed the clothes and he felt gauze in his mouth that was stemming the bleeding as well. He tried to spit out the gauze and felt it remain on his face.

Opening an eye he looked down to see he had a face guard now. Guess if he bit off his tongue they planned ahead for him. He gave a half hearted laugh to himself, his split voice yelling at him for fucking things up this badly. But he knew he was fucked well before the league, he was fucked for a long time.

But he could still write, and while self mutilation was not something he wanted to do more of, he knew he was going to have to. He just needed to figure out how to make his hands useless without being able to bite off his fingers. Or see if he could just escape. He looked around and saw monitors behind the window if he squinted, dumbasses forgot bright lights can still almost be seen through cheap shit mirrors.

Activity monitors, he wanted to see of what he could see rhythmic lights so he started quickening his breath to spike his heart for a second, those didn’t change much a different set of lights appeared before a body moved in front so someone was watching.

“Jin don’t try to do anything, what you did to yourself will be a hindrance but we don’t want any more surprises, you can still lead a normal life if you hand over the league, we have all of your records.” The guard says over the microphone.

Jin glares at the mirror and sneers as best as he can through his new mask. He hears a snicker on the microphone. He thrashes his head back and forth for a bit he feels an air bubble and hears the tubes beside him start to add a sedative to him. His chest sears in pain as he looks at the mirror and he laughs through the pain. He’ll figure something out, its their problem if they want him to cooperate.

He can write but if he keeps any part of his hand he will make clones, he knows his measurements he can see the new tongue in the mirror even for a split second that is all he needs the image, a reflection on someone's glasses and he can get the fuck out of here. Hell he could get the rest of the vanguard squad, break out Stain. Maybe Toga and Spinner could forgive him if he brought Stain to them.

#jin bubaigawara #bubaigawara jin #manga spoilers #bnha #lov #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #dabi #toga #spinner #hawkes

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feather-dancer · 4 years ago

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Now Ghosts he left behind Chapter 3 has been out nearly a couple of weeks suppose now is an acceptable amount of time to go on about ~*themes*~ that have been cropping up in the fic so far that aren’t at all plot relevant but are still important things I want to do justice to: LGBT+ rep and mental health particularly centred around anxiety. Understandably the following will contain spoilers I can’t avoid it, sorry!

~~~

Mental health

It probably doesn’t come as too big a surprise on the latter front, after all in the second chapter of the Strickler fic I tagged for unhealthy coping mechanisms which are loosely based on my own which also happened to have a reference at the end of the second chapter in Ghost!AU showing how far he’d come since then. Now I’ve read some excellent fics on the PTSD front, a few on dysphoria regarding the change from human to half troll but in regards to anxiety many seem to fall into the trap of thinking somebody is a bit more skittish or that it just gives you a more nervous nature. As somebody who has generalised anxiety myself, I really wish it was that simple.

In this fic’s case the anxiety is being heavily tangled in the dysphoria of the change where he’s left alone to process everything while being hit with reminders of what he no longer is thus putting more fuel on the pyre as a result. In a stressful situation (Sometimes not even then!) it can get stuck in a loop of self-created belief such as here Merlin kept him away deliberately though we know this isn’t the case and will warp reality/memories to fit like how he misremembers that Merlin also said his visions are imperfect if there’s nothing to snap you out of it then those spirals often lead to panic attacks or worse a full breakdown. Here his brain is trying to make sense of the impossible, jumping to the most logical conclusion it can come up with and through bad luck has this very wrong thought process that he’s a threat to everyone else. Having been on one or two of these they really do suck! Quite often dissociation goes hand in hand whether you’re aware of it happening or not and thus far he’s had a couple bouts that he’s dubbing blackouts currently. There is also the classic ‘background’ noise variant where for no real reason your fight / flight reflex is jammed on when it feels like it though Jim as shown by the CBD techniques at the start of chapter 3 is doing his best to keep a handle on those spiking too far and Claire mentions he taught her a few to help out to show that his friends know and he is able to talk about it without feeling the need to hide in plain sight every waking moment. If you’re forced to stealth you get frighteningly good about hiding full blown panic attacks and it’s not a healthy situation to be in.

On Toby’s end he mentions a specific situation where anxiety was likely involved before Jim was diagnosed. In it when confronted with a situation option a was bad, option b was worse and there was no good outcomes because his brain got stuck on those. He also mentions being moral support helping get Jim into a position that he would be able to go home but refused to leave him alone until he was sure he was okay. It’s worth pointing out he figured the reason everything kicked off was the ‘problem’ of coming out to Barbara and her not reacting well (Which was an understandable conclusion!) and only later realised anxiety was what made the entire thing even worse and he unintentionally did the right thing to help. Barbara also mentions Jim being on medication for it, the original ones to mysteriously stop working which are implied to be while Toby was pretending to be Jim then moved onto another treatment which was brought up via Strickler’s concern about going cold turkey. As much as anxiety freaking sucks I felt it was important to show that nothing in relation to it is treated as abnormal, it is simply life with having your brain being a bit on the funky side and that sometimes makes you think illogically. It’s not your fault when it happens.

~~~

LGBT+

When I began writing this fic one thing I wanted from the get go is that characters who are LGBT+ are not forced into a scenario created by the plot to out them to the reader/someone else nor signposted in a cheap way to score points because even when you’re with friends who know you’re not saying it every two seconds and even more so when in a stressful circumstance where your son/best friend is currently missing. With this thought in mind, Jim has always been written as Trans but prior to Chapter 3 I simply had no way to bring it up because right now he’s too busy freaking out about being a half troll to notice if anything is different and on this same coin, Claire is Bi while Toby is Pan with a bonus order of trying to figure himself out. There’s others too! Sadly much like confirming Jim is also Bi I’ve not had a way to naturally bring it up as yet if I will at all but they are being written with it in mind.

Jim was a trickier one to bring up because he’s not about to vouch for himself so it was a much easier route to instead hint drop and hope one if not all of them clicked with a reader who he is without any of them being done in a way that could come across as dickish. Barbara got the first two with mentioning Jim should know better about using a given name in regards to Not!Enrique and a second one in regards to another form of medication he’s taking but because she didn’t know if Strickler knew (Incidentally he does) thus she deliberately phrased it vaguely and was ready for the possibility of upset without outing her son because she’s a good parent!! Toby is who gets the rest through a roundabout way mentioning how bad his pre-medicated anxiety could be when he came out as mentioned in the previous section and a second time where he says he didn’t care what he looked like because Jim is always Jim to him. The final important note was how he specifically said that he would not second party exactly what happened because it’s Jim’s choice if he tells her or not. We love and support good friends in this house.

Then there was the inclusion of the river troll Trisantona who is marked as non-binary by calling themselves the child of and the kids think absolutely nothing of it and are more annoyed with their attitude than anything else. Personally I see many trolls and changelings particularly very eh about gender and wanted a little implication they are far from the first troll they’ve encountered who doesn’t fit a human binary so it doesn’t even register as unusual.

In Claire’s case she had two hints, the first bring a straight joke because it might be low hanging fruit but it’s hilarious I can’t help it while the second was her commentary on Toby’s reactions to name drops because she couldn’t resist teasing him. Small but both very deliberate.

Toby in the meanwhile has been having hint drops since chapter 2 which has only continued in how he keeps comparing reactions Claire is causing to what Jim does to him then you get him openly telling Claire about how it feels like his heart is a bunch of apartments and can the world stop having so many good-looking people in it. That ties in with the two mentions of doing research for a word he hasn’t quite got yet but he’s mostly been sidetracked by everything going on right now.

Homophobia, biphobia and particularly transphobia is rife and only increasing in this country where it feels like every week it’s only getting worse. While in the grand scheme of things it’s probably inconsequential it is important to be the change you want to see in the world. Mine? Even in this mess of an angst fic I want to showcase LGBT+ peeps who are treated as they should be with love and support by friends, family and strangers alike. Being Trans, Bi or whichever label that particular character uses it is simply part of who they are and not a character trait slapped on afterwards for easy points plus if I see one more fic where a Trans character gets outted to others without their consent because the author figured that’s the only way you can do it I’ll go feral.

In a completely unrelated note Douxie is non-binary Panromatic Ace in everything I write and anybody who doesn’t like that can suck it.

#writing #Ghost!AU

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