#i understand deeply myself how just because you seemingly have everything you need doesnt mean your brain cannot fuck you over regardless

[rainingincale]

.

[unicyclehippo]

Prompt idea? Jester talking to Yasha about "realizing things", as a young/newly queer person wanting advice/acceptance from an older wlw ("whats it like- having a wife?"), and maybe conflicted feelings re beau bc on one hand jes doesnt want to get between beau and yasha if they'd make each other happy but on the other hand she is jealous and isnt her own happiness worth fighting for too??

‘what’s it like - having a wife?’ jester asks. nearly immediately regrets it when the other woman jerks, eyes darting to hers, wide and surprised. ‘i’m sorry,’ she’s quick to say, shaking her head quickly, enough to make her jewellery jangle as the movement tosses them against her curling horns. ‘that’s not - it’s probably the worst thing to ask you right now, and, i mean, you look busy—‘

yasha looks down at her empty hands, around at the largely empty room, and back to jester, eyebrows raised. ‘i am not busy.’

‘oh.’

‘would you,’ yasha swallows hard. gestures toward the other piece of furniture in her room beside the bed, a solid chair. ‘do you want...to sit?’

‘um.’ jester glances behind her, down the empty hallway to the closed door of the room she shares with beau. ‘yes. sure, yes.’

‘you don’t have to if -‘

‘i want to!’

yasha seems to recoil a little at the very forceful show of what was supposed to be casual. she nods. arranges herself awkwardly as though they are about to have an interview, and jester wonders if maybe she’s afraid. just afraid would be bad enough but afraid of what jester might ask, might do because of her answers? that feels bad.

jester forces herself to relax. she closes the door and takes the seat, folds her legs criss-cross and plays for a minute with her skirts, getting the pleats to sit just so.

‘have you been sleeping better?’ jester asks, voice breaking the silence. yasha doesn’t flinch this time, but jester thinks that might be because she’s holding herself too tight and still. like a perfect alabaster statue.

‘ah. yes. caduceus came by with some tea,’ yasha says. ‘he...says some very strange things,’ she adds a little hesitantly, unsure if she’s allowed to comment on his strangeness when she—has done what she has done.

‘oh yeah, he’s great, isn’t he?’

yasha nods.

it’s a bit dizzying, actually, to be watched so intently by yasha. her gaze hasn’t fallen since jester entered the room, and she watches each small motion of jester—the way she brushes her hair behind her ears, the way her tail curls, the way she fiddles awkwardly with the rings on her fingers—but jester isn’t sure how much of it is the other woman understanding that she feels incredibly deeply nervous or, or off-kilter or strange, and how much is yasha watching out for an attack. the intensity is one thing. yasha’s dual coloured eyes are another. jester finds her own attention split between them.

‘we weren’t married for long.’ yasha jerks when jester does. ‘i’m sorry—did you, still want to know?’

‘only if you want to talk about it!’ jester insists.

‘i—don’t mind.’

‘i don’t ever want to make you do something you don’t want to do!’ jester says that forcefully, entirely on purpose. yasha needs to know, she needs to know, jester would never—

‘jester,’ yasha says, her voice low and soothing. her accent breaks jester’s name in two, each spoken with infinite fondness, gentleness. ‘everything is okay.’

for once, jester doesn’t reply to that. sometimes she denies it sadly, other times agrees fervently, but now she just sits in it. yasha is right, more or less. they got her back. killed the Hand. killed obann. things are better than they have been for a long time.

‘we were married at dawn,’ yasha tells her. ‘it was...not romantic. except that it was her, and we were getting married.’ jester can’t sit alone on her chair; she hurries across the room to sit next to yasha on the bed, brings her knees up to her chest, chin resting on them as she listens, bright eyed. ‘okay,’ yasha says, and shifts accordingly. turning her body toward jester and crossing her legs. ‘when you are married in the tribe, you, ah, you make offerings to distract evil spirits from you, so they are not watching, will not curse your union. i delivered a great sacrifice,’ yasha says, almost sounding like she’s trying to convince jester or herself of it. ‘but it mustn’t have worked.’

‘i’m sorry, yasha.’

the woman shrugs. ‘i don’t—there are some things that are missing still. from my memory. but if you have questions...’

‘i don’t know,’ jester admits. maybe she should have written some down. maybe she should figure out why she’s so interested in the first place. probably because if she knows how marriage is supposed to work, why it works, why it is good, she can get the gentleman and her mama back together and they can live happily ever after. or maybe—

‘is this—‘ yasha looks like she has bitten her tongue but she continues very carefully, very quietly. ‘about beau?’

jester plays it very very cool. ‘what? no? why would - did she - why would this be about beau? that’s totally ridiculous and not at all something i am thinking about.’ as she rambles, super convincingly, she starts to wonder herself if maybe she isn’t being entirely...truthful. ‘is it?’

‘i don’t know,’ yasha shrugs. ‘is it?’

jester frowns down at the blanket on yasha’s bed. plucks at It where it is frayed and works for a few minutes at mending those small rips. ‘she—‘ nearly died, jester thinks but doesn’t say, because that, despite the mind control, that was yasha. jester wants to cry all of a sudden. when had things become so difficult? when had she started to think seven steps ahead in a conversation to make sure she didn’t upset, didn’t offend, didn’t hurt her friends? it feels like a cage pressing in around her and she sucks in a shaky breath.

‘jester?’

‘i’m okay.’

‘no.’ yasha—so carefully that jester wonders if the woman thinks she is fragile, about to crack into shards at a too-heavy touch—sets her hand on jester’s. the little mending magic fizzles out with the jolt of surprise, fibres and threads of blanket untwisting and snapping apart once more. ‘you can talk to me, jester. i am—not weak.’ there’s a charge that flickers, over her fingers and behind yasha’s eyes. ‘you are my friend. whatever you say, we can...figure it out.’

it isn’t a question but it almost feels like one. like with the gesture yasha has reached out on two levels, both with hands extended, and is asking for her trust. and jester’s trust is small now and bruised and scratched but she hands it over regardless.

‘she died,’ jester says, flat and pained. ‘or nearly did. and i was so scared.’

yasha nods. ‘you are scared when any of them—us,’ she corrects after a moment, ‘falls. is she...different?’

‘yes,’ jester says, no need to think. ‘she’s my best, my first best friend.’

yasha hums. her expression is blank of judgement but there is a faint air to her like she remains...unconvinced.

jester falters. ‘she’s my best friend, isn’t she?’

‘yes.’ yasha squeezes her hand. ‘tell me, jester, do you think of her first in the morning?’

‘well...yeah. we’re roommates, she’s the first person i see.’

yasha shakes her head. ‘before that. before you even open your eyes.’

jester frowns. yasha seems to be hinting at something, the meaning of which slides sneakily away each time jester tries to grasp it, to find what it looks like, what it feels like, what it is.

‘she snores, so i hear her.’

yasha nods. ‘okay. well. when you are doing, mm, fun things like—‘ she blanks for a moment and then says, hesitantly, ‘dancing?’

‘i love to dance!’

‘okay, when you are dancing, who do you want to be dancing with you?’

jester squints suspiciously. yasha seems to be hinting that she thinks jester’s answer will be beau. and the thing is, of course it is beau! beau would make an amazing dance partner? that’s just natural? she’s taller than jester and strong and lean, with the build of a dancer and when she fights she has the grace of one too. she’s also great at leading and not leading, so that wouldn’t be a problem if jester got carried away and jumped into lead when maybe she shouldn’t. jester explains all of this very matter of factly to yasha, who just nods again.

‘and when you are bored?’

‘nott is very funny,’ jester is quick to point out. ‘and fjord has the best stories of sailing, and caduceus knows so much about so much, and you of course,’ she adds, just to see yasha smile.

it works. yasha smiles very fondly down at her and says, ‘and beau?’

‘beau, no, she isn’t good for boredom.’

‘why not?’

‘because she—‘ because i’m not bored with her, jester thinks. and just shrugs instead. if she thinks the small concession will halt the questions yasha asks, these big seemingly easy but oddly confusing questions, she is wrong.

‘what is your favourite colour? what do you give beau when she is hurt? does she make you laugh? do you want to make her laugh? has sh ever given you a gift? who do you want to be with when you are sad?’

‘that’s too much!’ jester cuts her off, oddly anxious. she jumps off the bed, hurries to put a few yards between them.

yasha doesn’t move to follow, but she watches jester go with a soft expression jester doesn’t recognise.

‘i...thank you for talking to me, yasha,’

‘it was like being more than myself,’ she says before jester makes it to the door. her voice is louder, warmer, richer, and when jester glances back at her, she sees that soft expression has morphed to something...peaceful. deeply sad, but peaceful. ‘i always heard it was two halves of a soul—the man and the woman, joined together. united, a match. but when i met zuala, when we met again and again and spoke, and laughed, and danced,’ yasha’s breath catches and she begins to cry. her eyes close. ‘it was more than myself, what we had. perhaps it was two halves joining, but it never felt like that.’

‘what did it feel like?’ jester whispers when yasha is silent for a short while.

‘terrifying. wonderful.’

‘terrifyingly wonderful?’ jester suggests.

yasha opens her eyes. the tears have leaked a little, spilling down her cheeks, and her eyes—watery, washed out—are clear and bright. ‘she made me very happy, in a time where that was very difficult,’ is all yasha says, and though she doesn’t send jester away, jester can hear that she needs some time.

she steps out with a quiet ‘thank you’ and closes the door behind her. leans back against it. lets out a long, slow breath.

she is still there when beau climbs the stairs, hair slicked with sweat and skin glistening, mottled with purpling bruises. beau grins, lifts a hand.

‘hey.’ her eyes flicker to the door behind jester. ‘everything alright?’

jester stares for a moment. beau is handsome and beautiful—hot, she thinks beau would insist upon—and so much more, and some of yasha’s questions make a lot of sense all of a sudden in a big, important, kinda scary way.

‘jes?’

‘yes. yes, everything is great. just a little chat.’

beau doesn’t look convinced, but she nods anyway. ‘okay.’

[dashesofink]

Cons of Keeping Secrets

Drabble: “hi! i just got this idea for imagine and since i cant write for shit, maybe you’ll be interested in writing something like this :) so Eddie Brock x reader imagine, where they are dating and are dating for a while now, but reader is still a bit secretive and doesnt tell Eddie everything, one of these things being her terrible past abusive relationship. One night they are in a heated argument and Eddie raises his hands to put on his head and reader heavily flinches. So fluffy angst. thanks ❤️”

Pairing: Venom/Eddie Brock x Reader

Word Count: 1595

Warnings: Mentions if past abuse

Genre: Angst, fluff

You hated arguments. You hated the yelling that was involved in them, and the regret that soon followed when everything was seemingly back to normal. You had always hated them, and thankfully Eddie knew that. You felt a great load of thankfulness and relief to know of Eddie’s understanding of your likes and dislikes; however, though the two of you had sat down to talk about your reasoning behind them, the topic of your past relationships never once came up. You refused to mention the yelling that was involved in your past relationship, or the emotional and sometimes physical abuse that you endured in fear of him ridiculing you. You didn’t want to burden him with that knowledge yet, as you felt ashamed of it.

Eddie always could tell that you were holding something back from him. However again, he was understanding, and he knew that everybody had boundaries and needed some space before opening up about something. Afterall, it did take him up to a year after you had started dating before he finally told you about Venom, and how he had come to a somewhat civil agreement with the alien symbiote living inside of him. He did, however, notice a few things that seemed off about you; not in a bad way that made him want to break everything off with you, but things that puzzled him. Like you always tried your absolute hardest to avoid raising your voice at him or him at you, or how when an conversation had grew particularly heated, you would shy away from him. At first he shrugged these little ticks off, as he always did, but the longer he was with you, the more he began to wonder why you did the things that you did.

Tonight, however, the only thing that seemed to be on Eddie’s mind was sleep. Work had been ridiculously stressful and busy, which meant he was on his feet the entire day with hardly any time to eat or rest throughout the day. Because of this, Venom has become hungry and especially annoying that day, his voice constantly nagging for food or something stupid, which only added on to the weight that seemed to weigh down Eddie’s shoulders as he slammed the door behind him after he had entered your shared apartment. You immediately jumped at the raucous, the cup of hot chocolate in your hands sloshing around a bit as you tried to carefully set it onto the living room table. “You’re back a bit early.” You looked towards the clock set on the mantel as you stood to make your way towards him, a small smile on your lips as you went to embrace him. “How was work?”

You noticed right away how tense his shoulders were as you hugged him, but what really pulled your smile down was how he didn’t seem interested, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. “Fine.” Came his grumbled reply, his hands only coming to your waist to move you back a bit before he dropped them back to his side. “Just tired is all.” You noticed the deep, purple bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and the frown on your face deepened when he refused to hold your gaze. You felt as if you could’ve cut the aura of frustration around him with a hot knife if you wanted to, and almost immediately you sucked in a deep breath before taking a tiny step back in hopes of avoiding an argument. Eddie noticed this, but he brushed it off as always before he let out a long sigh.

“Oh, well do you want me to—“

“No, no you just sit back down babe.” Eddie waved his hands dismissively as he motioned back to the couch, one of his hands rubbing his eyes tiredly as the other dropped his wallet and keys lazily on to the kitchen table. A look of confusion crossed your face before you glanced back to the living room, your toes brushing against the rug that was sat on the floor before you looked back to him. “Just don’t do anything for me alright? You relax and I’ll put myself to bed and shit.”

“Are you sure?” You had taught yourself to recognize whenever someone was on the verge of getting angry or upset, as to figure out a way to avoid the yelling that was soon to follow. But you cared deeply for Eddie, and the complete exhaustion that was showing on his face worried you. All you wanted to do was make him comfortable. “Maybe I can—“

“Just sit back down, y/n.” Eddie didn’t mean for his tone to come out snappy and loud, but he really didn’t want you to do anything for him. You seemed peaceful when he had walked in, and he didn’t want to ruin that for you by having you fuss over him. “You don’t need to do anything, so just stay there.” Once again Eddie let out another sigh when he saw your face drop a bit, and he turned his back to you so that he could walk to the room before he let out a small groan. “I just want to get in a shower and then—“

“I can start the shower for—“

“I said no y/n!” Almost immediately you backed away from Eddie was he spun back around, his eyes growing wide with frustration before narrowing at you. Your eyes too went wide as he took a few steps forward, and your feet moved seemingly by themselves as you matched his pace in moving backwards. Maybe you should’ve shut up and sat back on the couch like he had first said, you probably could’ve avoid his sudden yelling and the fear in your chest if you had just listened. “Just sit back down, now!”

“I’m sorry.” By now you had backed yourself against the back of the couch, your legs pressed tight against it as you turned your face to the ground in shame. You had learned that in these situations, it was best to just agree and apologize. Despite the urge you felt to wrap your arms around Eddie again to try and calm him down, you brought your arms tight to your chest as you looked away from him briefly, your lips turned into a deep frown. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“The only thing that’s upsetting me is.. never mind, it’s whatever.” Eddie shook his head as he squeezed his eyes shut, and he rubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes for a few moments before dropping them to his side. He eyed your slightly huddled figure for a moment before he let out a sigh, his gaze softening when he realized that he had started to yell at you, which he didn’t want to happen. “I’m sorry, y/n, I’m just really tired..” Eddie froze, however, his words disappearing from his lips when he noticed your flinching away from him as he went to rub his forehead a bit.

Slowly, he lowered his hand back to his side as he rose an eyebrow in question, his gaze going back and forth between his hand and the sudden guarded stance that you took on. It wasn’t until you slightly jerked away from him when he took a step forward that he finally put two and two together, and his heart sank. “Fuck, y/n, did you.. did you think I was gonna hit you?” His voice lowered almost to a whisper as he stopped in his place, his lips turning into a deep frown when you didn’t respond. You kept your face towards the ground as you kept your arms positioned in front of your face and body like a small shield, and it appeared to him that you were scared to move at all. “Baby, I promise I would never hurt you, I swear.”

It was then that you finally decided to look back up to Eddie, showing him the fear and unshed tears that were brimming in your eyes. Within moments Eddie had wrapped his arms around your body, his lips going to your forehead as a small kiss before he began to rub your back soothingly. “I would rather eat a platter of nails before hurting you sweetheart, shit.” Eddie’s embrace was tight yet comforting as you buried your face deep into his shoulder, his familiar scent relieving some of the fear you had coursing through your body. Of course, you knew that he would never mean to hurt you, but due to the trauma from your past relationships, you couldn’t help but think that.

“I know I’m just.. I can’t help but get scared.” You still didn’t feel like now was the right time to tell Eddie about your past, even as he pulled away from you to press another kiss to your face. He cupped your face gently before rubbing the skin of your cheek with his thumb, his lips turning up into a reassuring smile before he pulled you close to him again. “But I’m still sorry if I upset you or anything.”

“No no, you didn’t upset me sweetheart.” You felt Eddie’s arms tighten around your body as he sucked in a deep breath, his face going to the crook of your neck as he held you. “You never do anything to upset me.”

“But you—“

“I’m just tired, okay? I know that’s not an excuse but… I’m so sorry that I scared you darling, you didn’t nothing wrong at all.”