#incredibly ironic that in the process of figuring out ''if i do this'' i meet the criteria for another ''symptom'': ''LITERAL THINKING''

[syrinq]

me when ''needing things to be in a specific state so i can engage with it properly and without any mild annoyances to mind-numbing distress'' falls under the ''strict adherence to routine'' symptoms from ye olde dsm list for disorder #43294032 a la "you're a burden on society and you should be dead" style. instead of ''routines'' exclusively meaning doing things in a specific order. aka what the word ''routine'' actually fucking means

[shxtodxroki]

𝚂𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚍

Summary: Keigo nearly meets his end thanks to a recently freed petty criminal with a revenge streak. Thankfully, you’re there to catch him when he can’t save himself.

Flufftober Day 1 Prompt: “I’ve Got You”

Warnings: Mentions of death/Keigo nearly dies, SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA (specifically chapter 385 I believe), reader flies but it’s not specified whether it’s from their quirk or just from support gear

Pairing: Hawks (Keigo Takami) x Gender Neutral! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Check out my full Flufftober masterlist here!

This is it. Keigo Takami, former number two pro hero in all of Japan, is going to die, and he’s going to die in the most pathetic way possible.

It had been about a month since he had lost his quirk. A month since the world’s greatest, most feared supervillain snatched his fierce wings from him, barely allowing him to escape with his life. The emotional fall-out that followed the incident was conflicting, but Keigo trucked on out of necessity more than anything else, attempting to figure out what to do with his hero agency now that he couldn’t realistically do any of what made him the number two hero in the first place. He felt useless when he was at the agency, in all honesty, but he also felt free. The weight of the world had been taken off of his shoulders, and for once he felt like he could just be Keigo, live as normal of a life as he could in this world, and come home to you every evening. The light of his life. Despite the sadness, he felt freer than ever before.

He supposed that was ironic now, as he fell through the air to his certain death below. His freedom stripped in a second by a low-level villain with a grudge, a grudge with fatal consequences. 

He hadn’t even recognized the man’s face at first. Keigo rarely remembered the villains he took down, simply thankful that they no longer had the ability to cause more harm to the innocent people of Japan once he had locked them behind bars. But when this man came crashing through the top-story window of his agency right where his office was located with his own set of wings, screaming about how Hawks had gotten him arrested years ago over an attempted robbery turned hostage situation, he was forced to realize just how vulnerable he was now. He had a target on his back from the many recently freed villains who he had once locked up, and no quirk to help him escape or fight back at all. And so, before he could even process what was happening, Keigo was thrown out of the window by the villain and sent flying full-speed to his death, forced to accept his mortality for the second time in only a month. 

There isn’t even time for his life to flash before his eyes. Not that Keigo particularly wanted to remember much of his life in the firdt place, but still. There’s truly only one thing he really cares about, one person he'll miss more than anything when he crashes onto the street and loses his life, one person he wishes he could at least see one last time.

Your face floods Keigo’s mind as he hurdles towards the unforgiving ground at incredible speeds, and that, at least, he’s thankful for. If he’s going to die, then at least he’ll die with the person he loved as the last image in his mind, a beautiful send-off into whatever afterlife lays waiting for him on the other side of death. It truly feels like he can feel your warmth surrounding him as he nears the cold, harsh pavement below, like he can hear your voice calling out his name, pleading with him to come home alive. The thought brings tears to his eyes, wishing he could come home to you, but he’s thankful that you’ll be the last thought on his mind before he meets his end.

Just as Keigo begins to close his eyes, accepting his fate and realizing that he's truly met his end this time and couldn’t escape death after all, your voice suddenly sounds much closer to him, much more real. A harsh gust of wind and the prominent feeling of something wrapping around his body causes Keigo’s eyes to shoot open, and when he sees your face staring back at him, eyes wide with unshed tears as you stare at him with a gaze of pure fear and clutch him tightly in your arms, he can’t tell if he’s already passed on or if somehow, he’s truly seeing you in front of him right now.

“Please Keigo, I need you to look at me. I’ve got you, you’re safe, so please just say something.” He hears your wobbly voice begging, pleading with him. It doesn’t sound far away, doesn’t sound muffled or fuzzy or any other indicator that this isn’t real. It sounds anxious and shaky and real, and finally, Keigo manages to understand that he’s no longer flying to his death, instead safely cradled in your arms as you charge towards the safety of the ground with him. 

Oh.

You saved him. 

Keigo’s mind feels eerily quiet, as if nothing around him was processing in any way, but he can see across your face just how terrified you were, how scared you were that you’d somehow already lost him. Even when he felt lost, you were the one thing he always knew, the one person he could read like the back of his hand. So he pushes himself out of his mind fog just enough to soothe you, just enough to show you that you had saved him and had brought him back from the brink of death.

“Hi, baby. Fancy seeing you here.” He coughs out, his voice a little weak as he attempts to put on the same teasing tone he always uses when trying to ease your mind.

He can see that you want to cry, that you want to yell and chastise him for being so nonchalant about this, for the fact that you could have lost him without a chance to see him even one last time. But he also knows that you can see straight through him as well, that you know how terrified he felt as he was falling, and that you were the only thought on his mind as he was forced to accept his death.

So you let it go for now, opting to comfort him and discuss this matter more seriously in the privacy of your own home later. “You’re just lucky I was here and saw what happened in time to grab you.” You mumble as your feet touch the ground, and the moment you set him down his arms are wrapped around you and his head is buried in your neck. Your fingers quickly entangle themselves in his messy, windswept hair, pressing him closer to you to ease both of your minds, to ground you and show both of you that he’s alive and well and will be coming home with you tonight.

“Thank you for always being here to catch me.” He keeps his tone light but you can feel the relief in his words. You’ve always, always been there to catch him when he’s down, and he couldn’t possibly be more thankful that you managed to be there for him even now, in his absolute worst moment when he truly needed you the most.

“Don’t worry about it.” is all you whisper in response, holding him close for another moment before pulling away enough to look him in the eyes as your hands gently squeeze his arms. “I knew something was wrong the second I saw someone go flying into your agency’s building, so I called in for backup. They should already have the guy who did this taken care of by now.”

Those words ease the last of the worries in Keigo’s mind, now knowing that the man who nearly ended his life is once again in the custody of the heroes, unable to harm any of the other employees at his agency. He quickly decides to allow himself the relief of taking the rest of today off, knowing he couldn't possibly get any work done anyways, so he lets you lead him along the sidewalk with his hand linked in yours.

“Come on, let's get you home. You’ve had a rough day.” You smile softly at him, and though his mind still feels foggy and his stomach still feels scrambled from the fear and adrenaline, you manage to put him at ease for just a moment as he nods and smiles back at you, thankful he has someone who will always be watching over him even when he can’t watch over himself.

Request - Anonymous said: hello! for flufftober, please consider writing something for gojou (jjk), saeyoung (mysme) or keigo (bnha) ):

Anonymous said: hi ~ hope you're doing okay! i saw your flufftober thing and i wanted to request something for keigo, pretty please??? 

A/N: Hi everyone, welcome to Flufftober 2023! :D I’m super excited to kick this event off, fluff has always been my specialty so I’m stoked for this! Honestly I’m just a little worried about the writing I’ve done for this event, since I usually write in bullet-point style but decided to go for a more traditional one-shot style when writing in this event, and I hope it doesn’t sound too awkward or clunky as the month goes on since I’m not used to writing like this! Honestly I’m pretty happy with how this one came out, and I promise most pieces this month won’t start off this sad lol it’s just what came to mind when I read this prompt! My requests are also open right now, so if you have any requests please feel free to send them into my inbox! :D

Taglist: @applepie-macaroon @babaukulele @swiftbyul @shinsosmatcha @tsukkisukkii @awkwardaardvarkforever @shotos-angelic-whore @flufftober

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

[citrusfield]

( continued. ) ♡ @hcrdknocklife

"how do you know that i’m out of his league if you’ve never met him?” there’s still a small smile on her lips regardless of the finer details because even after all this time, it’s reassuring to hear from people who couldn’t disagree with her ex’s words more; especially when it’s a person she respects so much. the sad truth is that if someone spends enough time telling you that you’re not very smart, you’ll eventually start to believe it, and there are some tougher days at work where riley will start to fall back into that pattern. she swears she’s trying, but learning how to deal with failure without shouldering the full blame has never come naturally for her. “you say you don’t have much experience with it and that might be true, but whatever articles you’ve read seem to be pretty accurate. i can barely remember what not being anxious feels like.” when was the last time they were genuinely entirely carefree, with no nagging thoughts at the back of their mind or something lurking beneath that causes their stomach to twist itself into nervous knots? it must have been around their early school years, back before anybody had managed to figure out just how advanced her little brain could be in comparison to her classmates. once they did, it was all downhill from there. if she asked for assistance with something, what if the adults were disappointed? she was the clever one, after all. surely she shouldn’t need to be talked through the process like everyone else. sadly, she knows not everyone thinks the same way hayes does. not everyone is so willing to help.

“yeah, i know… although i’m starting to think there might be such a thing as caring too much.” imagine how much easier life would be if they could just shut off the limbic system in their brain for a little while and coast through the day without getting caught up on every minor mistake or overthinking every conversation hours after they've already ended. what a dream that would be. “that’s probably the smarter choice in the long run. but for what it's worth, i think you deserve all that praise you don't listen to.” it seems like feeling undeserving of flattery is just another thing they have in common. "i suppose if it was easy, anybody could do it, right? but you're the one in that position for a reason. you said you're doing the best you can and if everyone can already see that when you've barely just begun, i'd take that as a sign that you're moving in the right direction. so don't worry, i don't think you'll disappoint me either." realistically, they aren't even the one he should be afraid of letting down — what does their personal opinion really matter in the long run? "oh, ouch… are you trying to tell me to get a life right now?" being so directly called out would be woefully embarrassing if the initial surprise hadn’t made her laugh. is she that predictable? it's not like she never sees the light of day and spends the time in between shifts at home, staring blankly at the wall until it's time to leave again; she just tends not to do stuff that most people would deem as particularly adventurous or exciting. it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone to learn that she's not much of an extrovert. “hey, if you don't have confidence in your love life, someone has to. whatever form it ends up taking, yes, i'm willing to bet that you’ll get there. is that so hard to believe?" riley of all people giving out any kind of relationship advice is incredibly ironic, but she has a feeling about this one. he's so stereotypically perfect, it's close to frustrating. "yeah, that's what i thought… but then again, how else do you plan on meeting someone if you're exhausting all your other options?" at the mention of dating essentially getting in the way of work however, a knowing smile settles on their lips. ah, that sounds familiar. “i'm sorry, what was that you were saying earlier about me needing to work on my work-life balance? i'm afraid you might need to start taking your own advice." at this point, it should probably be considered a miracle that they aren't both still at the hospital right now.

“oh, i see… i suppose i didn’t think about that part.” she hadn't even thought that a member of staff would be an option for him, but it makes sense in hindsight; it's where he spends most of his time after all. the downside to this information is that now, their mind is running at a rapid pace trying to figure out who exactly has managed to capture his attention. they’re not one to gossip — especially not while at work — but they’d be lying if they said their curiosity wasn’t piqued. “as long as it’s consensual though, i’m sure there’s a way to work around the rules somehow, right? it may technically be frowned upon, but it’s not like you’d be breaking the law… i doubt you’re the first person to ever develop feelings for an employee.” aren’t there hundreds of cliche romance books out there about dating your boss? it must be a pretty common line of thinking for some people. as soon as it becomes clear that he's finally going to tell her why they're really here, riley's spine straightens and she tries not to lean forward in anticipation. she hadn’t the faintest idea what she was actually expecting him to say, but it wasn’t… that. her mouth opens the second the words leave his lips, but no sound comes out yet and she has to quickly shut it again. is he positive he hasn’t gotten her mixed up with someone else? “um, the clinic sounds like a great idea,” she begins, trying to find the best way to voice her confusion. this day has taken so many unexpected turns, she's shocked she's not dizzy. “but… why would you want me? you have plenty of other doctors who are far more experienced and capable than i am. giving me that responsibility... it feels like a risk.” 

[mizata]

The final profession of love

Dear you,

It's been a great 2 and a half years and i know it's been chock full of ups and downs, but that's life innit?

I can confidently say with 98.9% confidence that there've been more ups than downs, but this is the culmination of every moment we've been together.

I've seen you at your lowest, and i've seen you at your best, and there's so much to love about you, no matter what state you're in.

From improving communication skills with friends and family, to stepping out of your comfort zones to meet new people or challenge yourself career-wise. There has been so much objective growth and it's amazing.

There are so many qualities about you that i admire, be it the discipline to wake up everyday despite mental heaviness, or cultivating healthy habits for food or exercise. This was always something that i lacked myself and i was hoping to one day achieve that same level of self-discipline.

I've learnt so much about other necessary life skills like managing money, maintaining some semblance of cleanliness in the room, and traveling pointers. These are things that i never handled personally and i am eternally grateful for the opportunity to learn this through my time with you.

As i type this my eyes are welling up (for the 15th time today) and i may end up ugly crying and yelling into the very blanket that we iron out every day, but i know that this was necessary because it would not be fair to you (and to extent, us) if i let this continue.

I want to hold on to my principle of never having to lie to you. Not just because it's wrong morally and it's not the way mama raised me, but because lying here is the blade that causes the most hurt. And you've been hurt like that one too many times. You've been through so many struggles (most of which you had to deal with on your own), and i do not wish to be another person who disrespects you as a person with very real feelings and emotion.

You are incredibly precious and i wish i could take that night back, but i cant.

I cannot claim to understand how you're feeling now, or how you will be feeling in time to come, but i know that it'll get better in time. I too am still figuring out how to move forward with all this and i can only pen this down and process this carefully. This would be the first time i've had let someone so close to me go under such circumstances.

As i sieve through memories and memorabilia, i am yeeted back to the time where life was a lot simpler. We were both in hospitals, we were both excited to learn about each other and bringing the best out of each other. I will always cherish the little moments of weekend mornings, the times we danced to various genres of music, the times either of us stood at the doorway when the other had to leave for work, the moments that made my heart flutter, and the constant expressions of affection towards one another.

We made many plans and discussed the future in so many ways, and i've tried to be the better man for you. Of all the times i have failed you, this would definitely be my greatest failure. The last thing i wanted to do was make you feel any less than what you are, but i know that had happened regardless. Nothing i say now will change that fixed moment in time.  

There are so many things i wish i could say irl.

I wish i could say all of this (and more) to your face as you (probably) start to tear up (and so will i) because i want you to know how special you are to me.

I don't know if i should send this to you or just leave this here for you to chance upon for fear of hindering your healing, so i'll err on the side of caution and just leave this be.

I hope we can be allowed to still be friends (despite the opinion of some that we should stay separate), but if fate decides otherwise, then i have to accept it too.

You've taught me to live a little more, love a little harder, and be a better person overall.

Thank you. For letting me love you.

May you always have minimal pee and maximul rest bbkeks.

[6okuto]

If I may add on to the post where the MC genuinely wants to return home: what if they managed to travel between worlds seamlessly after some more practice?

As in, the M3+Rime literally just said good bye to their love, turn their backs on the spot where they disappeared, wiping their eyes from tears threatening to spill...

And not even a minute later the MC jumps through a portal and launches themselves at their LI. Moving between worlds has become natural to them - no need for heartache or long periods of time without one another again 💕

(this is my first submission, i hope y'all enjoy :))

— when mc can move between earth and astraea

note: YEAH. real real real no more angst . we're going to ignore the time warping with sage we are Ignoring it because we choose Happiness

anisa

being—acting strong was one of anisa's many talents. but right now she's standing alone, and the only thing she can hear is mc's "i love you" before they left

she has an iron grip on her sword's hilt as she clenches her jaw. trying to compose herself, she takes a deep breath and blinks the tears away before finally walking away

but she stops in her tracks when a noise and wind come from behind her. anisa thinks she's never whipped around faster, and she's sure that she's never felt her heart pounding harder than when she sees mc appear from the portal that forms

they look around until they make eye contact with her, seemingly shocked to see her standing there, "anisa?"

"mc," she breathes out. she takes a step towards them, speeding up when they start running towards her with a grin on their face

the both of them collide and wrap their arms around each other, and anisa lets out a sound between a laugh and a sob

"what—what are you doing here? how did you...?" "the astrolabe, it brought me back, i—i've...figured out my powers?"

anisa pulls away and brushes her thumbs over their face, taking a deep breath as if to reassure herself that they were really here. "you've always had a knack for pulling off incredible feats, haven't you?"

mc grins but yelps a little when anisa suddenly kisses them, and they think of the first kiss they shared all that time ago. when the both of them pull away, they continue to look at each other smiling. that is, until anisa's slowly vanishes, replaced with an unsure, but maybe excited expression. "do you think..." anisa trails off. mc furrows their brows, "hm?"

"...do you think you could travel...with another person?"

felix

mc was gone. felix reaches for his face that they were holding only a few moments ago, wiping away the tears that fell from his eyes

he knows he couldn't stand there forever, the others were waiting for him, and mc wasn't going to appear out of thin air. so even though he struggles, he finally wills himself to move.

but as he walks away, he hears a familiar sound and turns back

he thinks he can hear his heart about to beat out of his chest when he sees a portal growing. danger be damned, he trips over his feet running back when he sees a figure coming through. he's back where he stood, panting, when the figure becomes clearer,

"...mc?" "felix!" he stumbles backwards when they leap onto him, wrapping their arms around his neck. he only takes a second before he's holding them, tears threatening to fall again.

"i—i figured out how to come back! the astrolabe, i just, i—" they stumble over their words before pulling away to look at him. "i figured out my powers, i think."

"you...you? i—" he stares at them, processing their words and reeling from them even being here. then he breathes out a laugh before smiling sincerely and cupping their cheek, "of course you'd be able to figure that out."

mc leans into his palm and smiles back. they decide to lighten the mood, "i suppose i did have quite a talented teacher." felix blinks before snorting, "really? i'd love to meet him, then."

"mm, maybe. don't tell him i have a crush on him, though." "oh? a crush? not to worry, i'll be sure to keep your secret," he muses.

they both look at each other before leaning in to kiss and felix's heart might burst at this point. his hand continues to cup their face while the other rests their waist—he's never been so happy.

sage

he stares at the spot mc was standing when they said goodbye. the others decided to give him space, knowing he needed it more than anyone. finally, he irons himself and turns to walk away

but he...hears something, senses something? his ears twitch and he whips back around and watches as a portal forms again

he thinks he might be imagining things when he sees mc suddenly standing in front of him

"are you fake this time?" sage's voice cracks and he thinks he might cry despite his attempt at being lighthearted.

but then mc jumps into his arms and he's burying his face into their hair, clutching onto them like they had been gone for longer than a few minutes. "you'll be glad to know i'm just as real as always."

and sage cries this time. he's not sure why this was what broke him, but it is. mc panics and pulls away to hold his face, "sage?"

his hands hold onto theirs while he looks at them, "i thought i lost you." mc pouts and bring his forehead to rest against theirs, "you'd never lose me, i promise."

"why are you here? how are you here?" "i got back and, i don't know, it felt...wrong? so i did what i did the first time and asked the astrolabe for help and here i am. with you."

sage wasn't exactly a cheesy romance lovey-dovey kind of guy, but his chest felt warm and light and really, the only explanation at this point was love, wasn't it?

"couldn't get enough of me, huh?" he smiles. but it turns into a grin when he hears mc laugh, a sound he thought he'd never hear again, "yeah, i missed my big scary cat mercenary."

"well, what do you want to do now?" "..." "sage, i swear." "listen,"

rime

everyone had left a while ago. but rime stayed at the place where mc first formed the portal, sitting on a ledge while he stared off and remembered the smile they gave him before vanishing

something bubbles inside him and he runs his hands over his face and through his hair, letting out a loud groan of frustration before leaning his head back and closing his eyes

they shoot open again when he senses something in front of him and he stands up to look around. but then he realizes something was forming and he stops breathing for a second—it was a portal. a portal that mc stumbles out of before it closes behind them

he watches as they grin to themself before they turn and see him, "rime?" but rime still can't seem to breathe properly so he just...stares.

"what...? what are—what are you..." he feels stuck in place. mc cocks their head and can't stop themself from smiling a little, seeing him so lost for once, "this is a very warm welcome back." they decide to walk to him instead, gently hugging him and burying their face into his chest.

"i figured out my powers." "you what?" "i mean, i just, i wanted to see you again. so i did what we practiced and asked the astrolabe and...here i am."

they look up and smile, "happy to see me?" something clicks in rime's head when he sees them smiling and finally he pulls them back into the hug, earning a yelp from how tightly he holds them

it isn't often that he's vulnerable or quiet like this, so mc decides to just hug him back, using one hand to run their fingers through his hair. there was time for everyone and everything else later.

"what? did you doubt i'd figure out how to get back here?" they tease. but rime only scoffs, "when i've watched you turn felix's hair blue?" "oh come on, it was for like, 30 minutes. he didn't even look that bad." "it's not good to lie, you know."

[theladyofdeath]

The Viscount Who Loved Me {Eight}

TVWLM Masterlist

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction, inspired by the first 2 seasons of Bridgerton.

Written alongside @snelbz

Ships: Nesta x Cassian x Elain (I said what I said) Feyre x Rhysand Elain x Azriel x Gwyn

Summary:

As the season begins, a new Diamond is named. She catches the eye of a prince whose feelings remain unrequited. However, the man who catches the eye of the Diamond remains off the market, refusing to get married as a jab to his late father.   Meanwhile, the Diamond of the Season’s sisters have found themselves in a bit of a quandary. The elder is pushing the younger to get married to help her move on from the horrid disaster that happened last season, but in the process, the elder catches the eye of the younger’s match, even though she is considered to be an old maid and far past her time to be wed at the age of six and twenty. As they say, all is fair in love and war. 

A/N: Sorry it's been a minute since we've updated this one! I was out of town for a few weeks. Let us know what you think! Your thoughts, likes, and shares are always so appreciated.

Tag list is at the end. If you’d like to be added, please comment below or submit an ask. :)

It was just after breakfast when Cassian found Nesta sitting on the patio, reading a book. She seemed to be enjoying it immensely. Her brows were furrowed, her lips pursed as she flipped the page. Cassian had been looking for a moment to get her alone, to speak with her about pressing matters, and he figured this was as good a time as any. 

“Miss Archeron,” he said as he approached.

She jumped slightly, as if she had been fully involved in the world of her book, unaware that reality still existed outside the pages. 

She looked at him with a frown as she slowly set it down. “Lord Cassian.”

“I was hoping to speak with you,” he said, gesturing to the seat across the white, cast iron table. “May I?”

“It is your home,” she replied, simply. “You do not need my permission.”

Cassian couldn’t help the chuckle of pure disbelief that radiated out of him. Nonetheless, he sat and cleared his throat. “Have you enjoyed your visit?”

“You have a lovely home,” she replied, simply, looking out at the vast landscape instead of meeting his eye. “And, I must admit, my lord, you have been a gracious host. My sisters have enjoyed their stay immensely.”

Cassian noticed that she did that often - spoke on her sisters’ behalf but never on her own. “And you?” He pushed.

Nesta’s lips formed a straight line but she soon said, “The silence has been nice. I enjoy the country for that reason.”

Cassian understood. The city, although he loved the energy of it, could be loud and distracting. Perhaps that’s why he loved it. He never had to spend too much time inside of his own head. 

“Perhaps your sister and I will live here, then, and you may visit whenever you’d like,” Cassian said, and Nesta’s back straightened. “If, of course, Miss Archeron, I have your blessing to ask for Elain’s hand.”

Nesta did not, would not look at him. Her eyes remained staring at the green, rolling hills. Cassian waited patiently. He figured that Nesta Archeron was not a woman to be pushed.

Once the wait was over, however, he was only disappointed.

“No,” Nesta said.

“My intentions are—”

“I do not doubt your intentions, my lord,” she interrupted, her eyes still locked on the land in front of her. “But the season has just barely begun and I do not want my sister rushing into a marriage.”

“I would be a good match for Miss Elain,” he argued, sitting forward in his chair, resting his knees on his elbows. “I can give her everything she wants.”

“Do you love her?”

Cassian stared at her and Nesta finally turned to meet his gaze. “My sister will marry because it’s what my father wishes her to do, but the one thing she’s always wanted is to marry for love.” The words hung between them. “So forgive me if you claim you can give my sister what she wants when you do not even know what that is.”

Cassian was typically incredibly sure of himself and quick on his feet, but even he hesitated. Nesta was not a woman to be trifled with. She stood her ground and spoke without a second thought if it was what she thought should be said.

“I have spent hours with your sister,” Cassian said, calmly. “She has shared with me the life she sees for herself. I can give her that life. I will treat her kindly and I will respect her.”

Nesta scoffed and Cassian’s anger took root inside his gut. “Do you truly wish me to believe that you will respect my sister?” She said, shaking her head. “I know of you, my lord, and with all due respect, I have heard of your reputation. You like women. You have seen your fair share of beds and, pardon my frankness, if you do not even love my sister how will you put aside such…such…” Nesta was getting frustrated. He could see it, and that frustration only grew as she said, “desires! You may think you want a wife, my lord, but I have known men like you. And, if you are not marrying for love, I know I cannot count on a faithful marriage, a respectful marriage. Forgive me, but I will not place my sister in such a position, not when she deserves better.”

This woman.

This insufferable woman.

She was almost enough to make him wish he’d never entered the marriage market.

“So unless I am in love with your sister, you will not give me your blessing?” Cassian asked, voice quiet.

“No, Lord Nazari,” Nesta said, picking up her book and clutching it to her chest. “I will not give you my blessing until I feel that you are worthy of it.”

With that, she turned, re-entering the house and leaving Cassian behind with her unfinished tea on the table.

He fought down the urge to cry out in anger, to tug at his hair and drag her back here and make her listen to all the reasons he’d be the best husband Elain Archeron could have. Most of all his loyalty. He could be faithful, he had no doubt. He’d never had a reason to be, had the opportunity to dally on the side and took it, with little thought.

But if his allegiance lay with one woman?

He would never betray the trust and loyalty she’d be putting in him.

His track record didn’t look stellar though, and he knew it.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian reached for the teapot and poured a cup with the remaining dregs inside. After splashing in some milk, he took a drink and looked out at the sunny day.

He would prove to Nesta Archeron that he could be a good husband, if it was the last thing he did.

<.>

Feyre did not sleep for even a minute. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. And every time she saw him behind closed eyes, their encounter did not end when it did.

Her cheeks heated, even as she walked alone through the gardens. How could she have been so careless? The whole situation had been inappropriate. If someone were to have seen them, were to have walked in on them, their evening would have had an entirely different outcome. 

She had been irresponsible.

She had been careless.

Now, she was embarrassed. 

For the entirety of breakfast and lunch, Feyre had eaten with her eyes staring into her plate. She only spoke when asked a question which happened far more likely than she had cared for.

The worst part of it all was that she had liked it.

She had liked seeing Rhysand like that. She had liked getting close with him. She had liked feeling the warmth of his breath on her mouth, of imagining what it would have been like to taste him.

Even now, walking in the gardens, Feyre could not catch her breath. Her skin was on fire and she had to stop, close her eyes, breathe until thoughts of his fingers grazing her skin no longer occurred.

“Are you alright, Miss Feyre?”

Feyre’s eyes snapped open at that voice, knowing the face she would behold. Rhysand had just come around the corner of the shrubbery and was looking at her half in amusement, half in worry.

Clearing her throat, she curtsied and continued on, nodding once. “Yes, my lord, now if you’ll excuse me—”

She was almost around the corner when his voice reached her. “I didn’t mean to offend you last night.”

Halting, she turned back and met his dark eyes. Eyes that seemed impossibly darker in the daylight. “You didn’t, my lord, but it was highly inappropriate—”

He shrugged. “We happened to be in the same place at the same time after neither of us could sleep.”

“If you would let me finish a thought, sir,” she said, snapping her fan shut and advancing on him. “You were going to kiss me.”

His eyebrows raised, clearly not expecting her to be so blunt. “I had considered it.” The warm feeling his words evoked was forgotten as he spoke again. “But then I realized it would be the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Hurt flashed across her face, her cheeks reddening. Her eyes found the ground as she turned and headed for the house again. “Good day, my lord.”

A string hand wrapped around her wrist. “That…came out wrong.” She froze again, didn’t pull her hand from his grip, but didn’t look back at him. “If I were to kiss you, Miss Feyre, and someone were to find out, we would be forced to wed.”

Forced.

The words clanged through Feyre like a knell.

“And that would be the worst thing, wouldn’t it?” She asked, before she could help herself, meeting his gaze. “To be wed?” 

To me, were the words she refused to add, but flashed through her mind. 

He knew it, too, could tell by the way his body tensed. His fingers were still wrapped around her wrist. She still made no move to escape. 

“Would you have liked me to kiss you, Feyre?” He asked, quietly.

She was at a loss for words, swallowing harshly instead. He tracked the bob of her throat and then his eyes met hers again.

“You don’t want to marry the prince.” It wasn’t a question. It was a blatant statement, one he had no right to make.

But he was right. She didn’t. The thought of marrying Prince Tamlin, of being shipped off to Spring and likely end up locked in his castle to breed little heirs, title or no…

She shook her head.

Rhysand was watching her intently. There seemed to be a war raging inside him and she swore she could see the exact moment one side won out.

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Feyre,” he said, closing the distance between them. She held her head high, looking up into his face. “You seem to need a believable out from your courtship with His Highness. I am in need of a shield to protect me from the wolves of the ton.”

Feyre’s eyebrows bunched. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“The mamas, Feyre, darling,” he sighed, taking both of her hands in his. “I need a reprieve from their constant and incessant badgering. But you,” he stepped closer again. “You could be my saving grace, Feyre.”

Feyre blinked, registering his words all at once but not at all, all at the same time. “I’m not certain I know what you’re suggesting.”

His jaw ticked. “We will create a facade, a courtship that seems realistic in the eyes of the ton but remains nothing more than mere friendship. We will dance, we will promenade, and all the while I am not getting attacked by ladies and you are not getting attacked by the prince. It’s a simple solution to both of our problems.”

Feyre stared at him for a moment before barking a laugh, snatching her hands from his. “That’s absurd.”

Rhysand was not offended. He simply lifted a dark brow. “How so?”

“There is a flaw in your plan, my lord,” Feyre went on, and now she was pacing between the shrubbery. “If I were to accept this madness, I, the Diamond, would not be ending the season with a husband, now would I?”

The Viscount actually rolled his eyes, dramatically and with humor. “As you say, you are the Diamond. Of course you’ll get a proposal. Multiple proposals, I have no doubt. As the season comes to a close, I will step back and make way for the offers to roll in. My plan simply gives you a little breathing room until then.”

A little breathing room. Such a thought was lovely. There was a second fault in his plan, however. “Except I will be spending that spare time with you, my lord, and you do annoy me so.”

“And you frustrate me to no end,” he replied, “so it’s a good thing we have no intention of actually marrying at the end of the season.”

Feyre paused, actually thinking this charade through. She chewed on her bottom lip, looking up to find him watching the movement. “You truly think this could work?”

“As long as we play our parts well, which I have no doubts we will, I don’t see how it could fail.” He gestured around at the beautiful gardens. “You visited my best friend’s country home and spent time with me. No one would doubt that I charmed you while we relaxed, and it gives you a reason to reject that pompous princeling’s proposal.”

Feyre walked away a few steps, stepping out of the shade the two of them had been hiding in. She let the sun grace her face and turned up to bask in it. Finally, she turned back to him. “At least three dances at every ball, for the rest of the season.”

His dark brows rose. “Two,” he negotiated.

“Three,” she replied, opening her fan and fluttering it just beneath her chin. “All of the eligible bachelors must see me in your arms, my lord. That includes those that arrive early, those that arrive late, and those who are there the entire time.”

Pursing his lips, he nodded. “Fine, but one promenade week and one social visit.”

Feyre barked a laugh. “That’s just pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Rhys replied, face incredulous.

“Pathetic.” Pointing to the house and its owner within its walls, Feyre went on, “Lord Nazari visits our home almost every day and they promenade at least three times a week.”

Rhysand, to her utter delight, hesitated. “Fine. I’ll move it to two. But don’t expect me to stay too long for the social visits.”

Feyre, in a very unlady manner, rolled her eyes. “Fine.”

“Fine.” He held out his hand.

Feyre’s brows shot up. “Shaking like gentlemen, are we?”

“You’re a menace,” Rhysand muttered, and Feyre grinned as she shook his hand.

The deal was done.

<.>

“Azriel.”

Elain’s sweet voice floated from behind him as he sat in the sitting room, sketching. It was the first time she came outright and used his given name, which pleased him considering he had asked her to call him only Azriel at least a hundred times.

“Lady Elain,” he said, setting down his charcoal and wiping his hands off on his trousers, which he realized just after was not very proper. 

Her smile was radiant. “If I am to call you Azriel, you must call me Elain.”

As she sat on the couch across from him, he couldn’t help but notice how the rays of sun lit her hair up, how her eyes were molten in the early afternoon light.

He cleared his throat, but sat up and crossed an ankle over a knee. “Very well, Elain.”

He said her name as if it were a secret and it thrilled her. She was realizing she enjoyed spending time with Azriel, enjoyed how easy it was to be around him. He didn’t expect anything from her, didn’t push her to talk about things that, truthfully, she found quite trivial.

“What are you doing up here, all by yourself?” She asked, though it was clear he’d been absorbed in his art before she came in.

Cheeks heating, Azriel flipped his sketchbook shut. A metallic silver and grey thumbprint was smeared across the top, his hands still covered in charcoal. “Sketching,” he admitted. “It settles me when…” He froze realizing what he’d almost revealed. “When nothing else can settle me.”

She looked at him like she caught the misstep, like she wanted to ask what was wrong, if he was alright. But instead, she surprised him when she asked, “Can I see?”

Azriel looked down at his sketchbook before looking back up at her hopeful, curious expression. The second he handed it to her, she had it open.

“They’re not that great,” Azriel said as she flipped through page after page after page. “Although, I did just get accepted to the summer program at the art academy.” That felt like bragging. “Not…that that’s a big deal.”

It was.

Still, she said nothing as she studied each drawing she came across. 

“So,” Azriel continued, having nothing to say after that, but fearing the silence.

“These are beautiful,” she said, at last, looking at a messy sketch of Cassian and Rhysand sitting on the couch, sipping their magical tea.  “The day I met you, you got charcoal on my dress,” Elain said, laughing quietly, although she was not specifically speaking to him, just aloud. 

“I apologize, yet again,” Azriel said, his voice light.

That quiet laughter returned, and it was a lovely sound. “No need. I did not mind.”

He smiled, but she didn’t see it. She turned to the next page where she found a portrait of a woman.

Elain tilted her head to the side. “She’s beautiful.”

“Miryam,” he explained. “She works for Rhys. We’ve known her our entire lives. Grew up together. I feel it easier to sketch those I know. I can feel their personality as I draw. I feel it helps guide me.”

Elain nodded thoughtfully before asking, “Could you draw me?”

Azriel started, surprised by the question, and Elain must have seen it as hesitation because her cheeks turned pink.

“Not that-“

“It would be an honor to draw you, Miss-.” He caught himself, and Elain laughed, loud and bright. “Elain.”

Her laughter died but it lingered in her deep, brown eyes. She handed him back his sketchbook. “When shall we do this?”

“I have time if you have time,” Azriel said, opening his book to a blank page.

“I have time,” she said, voice growing quiet. “Where would you like me?”

“Right where you are is perfect,” he assured her, but then thought again. “If you could just move your hands…maybe so they’re not…”

Elain looked down at her clasped hands and laughed, unclasping them and holding them out, palms up. “Where would you like my hands?”

He set down his sketchbook and leaned across the space between them. “May I?”

Elain nodded, smile growing soft as Azriel took her hands and put one palm down atop her skirts, then placed the other one just on top. He took her chin in his fingers and Elain’s breath hitched as he turned her face, just slightly until the light hit her just right.

“Now you’re perfect,” he breathed, his fingers still on her skin.

She blinked at him, knowing she shouldn’t move now that he’d placed her how he wanted her. Realizing what he’d said and how close they were, Azriel cleared his throat, jumping back. “Forgive me, sometimes I get so focused on a piece coming together that I can forget to heed acceptable social niceties. Act undignified and all that.”

Elain’s eyes softened and her smile was demure and pretty. “If that was undignified, I think I may prefer you like that.”

Azriel’s eyes left her face as he flipped his sketchbook open again and found a blank page. Her cheeks heated as his gaze looked over her entire body, but it was not done in a leering way. He was taking all of her in, memorizing her form, and then his hand was moving across the page.

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither of them speaking. His eyes would move between his book and Elain, sometimes getting caught in her own gaze, while his hand flew. Twice, he retrieved a fresh piece of charcoal, needing the thinnest edge possible to focus on a tiny, but important detail. His thumb was shiny and metallic from where he’d used it to soften edges and fade the lines he deftly drew.

“I’ve never really been one to fit into the ton.”

His words were so unexpected, so quiet, that Elain jumped slightly when he spoke.

With his eyes cast on his sketchbook, she took the chance to really look at Azriel. She’d, of course, noticed he was handsome before, but now, she gave herself a moment to appreciate his hazel eyes, the green a little stronger than the brown today, and his full mouth. His lips looked soft, where they were parted slightly in his concentration. His cheekbones were high and his jaw was strong. Those sparkling hazel eyes looked up and met with hers.

And Elain realized she was staring.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “Why is that, my lord?”

His eyes narrowed, but he ignored her. “Because I was never supposed to have my title.”

Azriel had been the illegitimate heir to the Draeven line, a placeholder of sorts until his wife gave him a son. The child the household laundress had bore him after he’d forced himself on her was never meant to lead the house and rule the land, but his wife never conceived. Likely due to the same beatings and bruises he and his mother received from him.

And then the man had died before Azriel had even turned four, just a few months after his mother had been unable to recover from a beating so horrible that Azriel could still hear her screams. His horrible step-mother remarried, bearing twin boys less than a year after his father’s death. As he got older, he would have thought it a fitting punishment for the piece of shit who sired him, had his half-brother’s not made his life a living hell every chance they took. Had his step-mother not squandered their money away, claiming she and her new husband were acting as Azriel’s stewards until he reached maturity.

All the while, Azriel waited, knowing there had to be some other member of the Draeven line who would take the title. Into his teen years, he’d heard his step-mother talking about this cousin or that cousin who could be coming any day to oust them from their home and take the title, and Azriel almost prayed someone would.

But no one ever did.

He would not tell Elain that. No one truly knew every little detail but Rhysand and Cassian, so when Elain asked, “How so?” Azriel casually answered, “Complicated family history.”

Elain wasn’t fond of that answer, he could tell she wanted to push, but like the lady she was, she didn’t. Instead, she said, “I am glad for your title. It means that you and I may spend time with one another.”

Azriel watched as she repositioned herself, a small smile on her lips. For the first time, Azriel thought that he may not mind his title either, if only for that reason. 

<.>

Nesta knew she shouldn’t be out on her own at such an hour, but she had to get away. Supper had been excruciating, Cassian looking up at her with his stupid, cocky grins for the entirety of it. It made her skin crawl, how he thought it was all just a game.

She didn’t give him her blessing, and she wouldn’t.

She could not have such a rake as a brother-in-law. 

She fled down the steps and into the garden, only to find a stone bench to fall on.

Once seated, she closed her eyes and took one deep breath, then another.

Listening to the breeze rustling through the shrubbery around her, she waited a moment, before opening her eyes. When it was clear no one had seen her flee her rooms, Nesta reached into the pockets of her robes and produced a small metal case, which she flipped open. A strike and a flush of light and Nesta was inhaling deeply from the clove cigarette between her lips.

Cassian, with his pretentious attitude and constant smirking. She scoffed as she exhaled and it almost sounded like a growl.

He was handsome, Nesta could not deny that, but a pretty face and a title wasn’t enough to win her over for either of her sisters.

Thank the Cauldron, Feyre was smart enough to align herself with the Prince. Nesta needn’t worry about his honor.

But Baron Cassian Nazari?

Over her dead body would he marry a member of the Archeron family.

The thought was haunting her and she suddenly had a new loathing for her father. 

She had always loathed her father, had never gotten along with the man she had hailed from, but now, giving her this responsibility instead of taking it on his own…

Nesta loathed him.

She loved her sisters, but this was not her job. In her father’s defense, she didn’t know what her job was, she supposed. Not anymore. 

She had forgotten what her job was a long time ago, when she refused to marry and became the mocking center of the ton.

Nesta took a long drag and closed her eyes.

She had no idea who she was.

All she knew is she couldn’t get Cassian Nazari out of her head.

It seemed that rather than prove his worth to Nesta, he’d decided to spend the rest of their visit getting under her skin. He infuriated her to the point of no return, having consumed her every thought while she lay in bed.

She wondered if he knew he wore every emotion and thought on that handsome face. How his jaw ticked when he was frustrated, his eyes would trail down and to the left when he was deep in thought. She didn’t want to think about the fact that his hazel eyes lit up when the two of them spoke. Not every time, but often, and when they did, he looked so…alive.

But that was not the point.

Even thoughts such as those were highly inappropriate. 

Infuriating.

Nesta heard a crunch and just as she jumped to her feet, a figure came around the corner, emanating puffs of smoke. 

Lord Azriel froze, looked at Nesta, looked down at the cigarette between her fingers, then cleared his throat. “Apologies, wasn’t aware this bench was already occupied.” Nesta must have had a look of pure panic written across her features, because he continued with, “No need to worry. Everyone else has gone to bed and your secret is safe with me.”

Azriel did not threaten her in the slightest, but still, being alone with a man in the middle of a garden at night felt wrong. 

Once again, highly inappropriate. 

Better Lord Azriel than Lord Cassian, though.

“Please,” he went on, when she said nothing, gesturing to the bench. “Do not let me interrupt.”

Nesta slowly sat back down and gestured to the opposite end of the bench. “Feel free to join, if you wish. It seems this is your smoking bench, after all.”

Azriel chuckled as he sat, a couple feet away. “Perhaps it is. I love my brothers, but some days I need to come out here and…breathe. Without them.”

Nesta snorted. “That seems fair, my lord.” A moment of silence passed before she said, “You call each other brothers. Are you related by blood?”

She hadn’t thought so, but she didn’t want to assume. 

“No, though my mother and Rhysand’s were close friends growing up, so we met young. And Cassian?” Azriel chuckled, affectionately. “We met him in finishing school and the three of us were pretty much inseparable after that.”

Nesta had to resist the urge to snort. “Finishing school? Lord Cassian attended finishing school?”

He chuckled, the tip of his cigarette lighting up as took a long drag. “He may be a lot to take in, but do not mistake his fervor for life as disregard for his honor and respect.”

Nesta was quiet for a moment and Azriel feared he may have said something wrong. “You probably think I’m a hateful woman,” she said, quietly. “I don’t withhold my blessing out of spite.”

“You want what’s best for your sisters,” Azriel replied. “No one can fault you for that.”

Nesta wasn’t sure what she had been expecting Azriel to say, but that was not it. They did not know each other; yet, he seemed to understand more than anyone else.

“We are all each other have,” Nesta said, simply, before putting the cigarette between her lips. “After this season…” her words trailed off as she shook her head. “After this season, our lives will be forever changed. We have been through enough change in our lifetime, enough scandal. If our lives are to change, then I want it to be for the best. They deserve that. Both of them.”

Azriel blew a puff of smoke into the cool, night air and watched it fade away into nothingness before he said, “Contrary to popular belief, Miss Archeron, you are a good woman. A good sister.”

“That is very kind of you to say,” Nesta said, quietly. “You may be the only one in the ton who believes such a thing.”

“Yes, well,” Azriel began, snorting, “the ton does not think fondly of me, either, so do not let it upset you. You and I will be much happier in the remainder of our lives than most of them will ever be.”

Nesta looked over at the young lord, and found him smiling softly at her. He took another drag of his cigarette, before saying, “Like I said, Miss Archeron, your secret is safe with me.”

__________________________________________________________

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[mediocre-writerr]

history has it eyes on you [jennifer jareau]

jennifer jareau x fem reader

requested by anon: Love your JJ fics ❤️❤️ I was hoping could you do another one where the reader is somewhat new to the BAU and is either dating or has a thing with JJ. But the reader is known for doing these heroic and kinda reckless acts that ends up saving the victims. And while everyone in the bureau thinks that she's an absolute badass and incredible at her job JJ can't help but love and hate it. She loves it as she's amazing at her job and always ends up saving them but she hates how she always seems to be in the line of fire and in danger. After one too many close calls JJ kinda loses it on the reader.

*not my gif*

You were nineteen when you joined the academy. However, once you got the job you were longing for you were still a bright young prospect at twenty two. The youngest on the team, even younger than boy genius. 

You always had dreams of dying like a martyr. The bravest thing you thought that anyone could do was sacrifice themself for the ones they love the most. Sure, that’s not the healthiest thing in the entire world, but it was everything to you. 

“Have you guys heard that we’re getting a new member?” Garcia asked as her, Prentiss, and JJ walked into the bureau with their coffees in hand.

Prentiss nodded, “Heard they were a part of the Navy Seals for awhile. They were known as the youngest on that squad and they’re even younger than Reid,” 

“Really?” JJ asked, slightly shocked that someone is younger than Reid. 

Hotch walked out of his office as the rest of the team gathered by their desks, you walked right behind him, his taller figuring covering you from the view of the rest of the team.

Hotch cleared his throat before looking at all of them, “I’d like to formally introduce you guys to the newest member of the team, Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” 

You emerged from behind Hotch and you gave all of them an awkward wave. Until your eyes fell onto a pair of familiar blue ones. Her face was calm and collected, but you could tell by her eyes that she was internally freaking out.

You tried to fight off a smile that was forming on your face at the sight of your old flame back in the days of Afghanistan. But by the look on her face, you knew no one else really knew of her Afghanistan days.

Afghanistan wasn’t all bad. Sure you were put there to try and take down Bin Laden, but the city that was surrounded by war was absolutely beautiful. All of the architecture and the culture, even the people. 

This was one of the days where you completely forgot that you were in the middle of a war. JJ was standing on the balcony in the city of Kabul, the capitol of Afghanistan. The sun was setting behind her as you handed her a glass of wine.

It’s illegal to drink there, but as long as no one saw you called it a win. You stood behind her and wrapped her arms around her waist. You hooked your chin onto her shoulder as you kissed her rosy cheeks. 

“This is nice,” she mumbled and you hummed in response.

“I agree. You make this whole mission so much more bearable,” you whispered.

Penelope ran over to you and gave you a big hug, “Hi! I’m Penelope Garcia, the best tech out there!” 

You laughed softly, hugging her back, “Hi!” 

Once you pulled away, you were introduced one by one to each of the team members. Until you eventually were stopped at the beautiful blonde you’ve known worlds ago. 

You extended your hand out to her, meeting her bright blue eyes. You raised your eyebrows up at her, “Y/N Y/L/N,” you formally introduced.

She hesitated before grabbing your hand, the familiar spark electrocuting your body and you could tell that she felt it too, “Jennifer Jareau,”

“I like your eyes, they’re very blue, did you know that?” you told her, recalling your first ever conversation.

JJ just gave a tight lipped smile before nodding, “Yeah, well, I kind of had them my whole life so I think I know that they’re blue,” 

“Right,” 

You were suited up in your gear as your commander walked you over to the representative from the state department. You climbed high in the rankings with all of your hard work and selflessness, you became a lieutenant commander. 

“Lieutenant commander Y/L/N, this is our state department liaison Jennifer Jareau. She will be helping assist us in communication with some of the hostages,” your commander introduced the two of you and you nodded.

You stuck out your hand and smiled at her softly, “Y/N Y/L/N,” 

She grabbed your hand, smiling back, “Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ for short,” 

“Well JJ, I like your eyes. They’re very blue, did you know that?” you asked, awkwardly. You mentally face palmed yourself, realizing that you were getting nervous around the beautiful blonde.

JJ laughed at your awkwardness before nodding, “Yeah, well, I kind of had them my whole life so I think I know that they’re blue,” 

“Right,” you drew out, mentally face palming yourself harder than before. 

You let out a soft chuckle before finally dropping her hand. You knew in a room full of profilers that they would notice if a friendly handshake lasted too long, no matter how hard you didn’t want to lose her touch. 

That was the only interaction the two of you had the entire case. Most of the time you were partnered up with Prentiss. She had more experience than JJ as a profiler since JJ was a liaison first. 

For your first case, you impressed them all with how selfless you were. You would push yourself in front of the rest of the team when confronting an unsub. You would always be the one talking them down as their gun was pointed right at you. 

“Jimmy Barnes, put the gun down,” you ordered, as he held the girl by gun point, “I said, put it down!” 

He shook his head, “No! She needs to die! I need to finish what I started!” he yelled.

Jimmy Barnes, your first ever unsub was ironically going after girls who matched your description. He became so obsessed with a video game that he altered it with reality. The villain in the game looking surprisingly like you.

“Then kill me instead, you’ll win the game if you let her go and kill me,” you offered.

You could feel JJ’s eyes on you and the rest of the team gave you a quick glance before going to look back at Jimmy. For a split second you weren’t sure, what he was gonna do until he eventually threw the hostage towards Rossi, before grabbing you in the process.

He thought he had a good grip on you, but you were a Navy Seal, you know how to get out of a hold or two. Before he could pull the trigger, you elbowed his groin and threw him onto the floor. 

Jimmy landed on his stomach with a hard thump, you straddled his back before  putting him in handcuffs, “Jimmy Barnes, you are under arrest for the murders of Nicole Watkins, Macy Martin, and Leah Butler,” you told him, listing all of his rights. 

Once you got back on the jet, your eyes drifted over to JJ who was staring out of the window. You just kept staring, trying to profile her from afar. You noticed that there was no ring on her finger yet, so that was a plus. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t dating anyone.

Morgan snapped you out of your trance, “That was a brave thing you did out there. He could’ve easily just shot you dead before you could even make a move,” 

“Yeah, but it saved the girl didn’t it?” you fired back and from the corner of your eye you could see JJ let out a sigh, shaking her head. 

“It did, you’re gonna be a great part of this team!” Morgan patted your shoulder before taking a seat next to Reid. 

You took this as an opportunity to get some shut eye on the flight back to Quantico. And your slumber seemed to drift back to you and JJ. 

The two of you were tangled in the sheets of the hard mattress. The hot air of Afghanistan causing your already sweating bodies to become more sticky. JJ was playing with your hair as her head rested on your chest. 

“This is very unprofessional,” she whispered.

You chuckled softly before nodding, “Well no one has to know what we do,” you whispered back, “But if anyone were to walk into my tent they’d see your clothes all over the floor,” 

She lifted her head slightly before seeing your clothes scattered all over it. She let out a content sight before putting her head back down.

“If I'm being honest, I don’t think I’d care,” she said, kissing your jawline. 

You exaggerated a gasp, “Did the Jennifer Jareau just say she wouldn’t care if someone caught us breaking the rules?!” 

“I wouldn’t care because I’m in love with you,” 

Your ears perked up at those five words, “I’m in love with you too,” you whispered, leaning down to attach your lips together.

The more you went on cases with the team, the more reckless (well you’d like to call it heroic) you’ve become. You would run into a hostage situation with an aggressive unsub without a bulletproof vest or weapon. 

You thought that you would get a talking to from Hotch about being so reckless, but he never did. The others rarely thought anything of it and just thought you were an absolute badass. Well, everyone but JJ, you could tell your need to constantly be the hero was getting under her skin a little. 

You just didn’t think she’d care anymore. She barely interacted with you and when you did they were short professional conversations. Even when you went out with the team, she wouldn’t interact with you.

“So, what’s going on with JJ?” Morgan asked you as you and the team were flying out to Tacoma, Washington. 

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Nothing,” 

He hummed, “Well you’re staring at JJ like you’re in a romcom and just lost the love of your life. So what’s going on? You know you can talk to me,” 

Morgan had become like an older brother figure to you. He was the closest person to you on the team and you knew he could trust him with anything.

“Well, JJ and I knew each other awhile ago. We had a thing and it was really good, but you know, nothing lasts forever,” you confined in him and he nodded.

“That’s why she’s avoiding you like the plague?” he asked.

You shrugged, “I don’t know. It was a long time ago and she broke things off with me. So, I don’t understand why she’s avoiding me. If anything it should be the other way around,” 

“I would just try to talk to her. Obviously, something’s still bugging her if she’s avoiding you this much. Just talk to her,” he suggested and you nodded. 

You wanted to talk to JJ the entire case, but the unsub shortened his kill time and struck back to back. So, you were working twice as hard and twice as fast to stop them. 

And when you did find them let’s just say, you had to act quick. The unsub set his own house on fire with him and the hostage family inside of it. Hotch had called the fire department, but they wouldn’t get there for another ten minutes.

There was no way that the family would survive that. The smoke inhalation. The fire spreading quickly. Before any of the team could even react, you were off and running in to a burning building. 

“Y/N!” you heard JJ shout, but it was too late you were already in the building. 

The unsub was standing there with a sinister smirk on your face and just as he was about to attack you, you sent a bullet through his shoulder. He fell onto the floor in pain. 

The family of three were coughing up a storm. You could feel the smoke already start to fill your lungs. You gestured for the family to start running out of the house. 

“My daughter is stuck under there! You need to get her out of here!” the father yelled and you nodded.

“I’ll save her, you guys need to leave now!” you screamed. 

“I’m not leaving-” the mom begins to protest, but you cut her off.

“I promise I’ll get her out of here, but if you don’t leave she’s not going to have anyone there to take care of her!” you exclaimed. Without another word they run out of the building. You looked at the little girl who was stuck behind a piece of broken ceiling. 

You smiled at the girl who just seemed numb and you grabbed her arm, “Hi kiddo,” you finally got out between coughs, “My name’s Y/N and I’m here to save you okay? You’re safe now. No one can hurt you. Do you mind if I touch you and help you out?” 

She nodded without another word. You started coughing uncontrollably before you finally held her in your arms. 

JJ was pacing back and forth from outside. Her thoughts spinning as she just watched you run into a burning building. Two figures started rushing out of the building. JJ and Morgan ran towards the couple, leading them towards the ambulance.

“Where’s the agent who went in to help you?” JJ asked, frantically. 

“She’s still in there. She’s helping our daughter, she was stuck. She promised that she’d save her,” the mother told JJ.

Right as she finished her sentence, there was huge crash. Everyone’s head turned back to the house to see the roof caved in and the building was falling apart. 

“Y/N,” JJ whispered before raising her voice, screaming out your name uncontrollably, “Y/N!”

Her mind flashed back to Afghanistan, when the good thing the two of you had going turned sour. 

It was dark out and you, JJ, and some of trying to search an abandoned compound that you assumed the Talibans were using to help create bombs. You sensed a slight tension against your shin. 

It felt like what would happen if you rubbed your shin against a bush. But there was no shrubbery around the group, only grass and dirt. At the same time there was a pinning noise and that was the only thing you could hear. 

You had walked into a tripwire, looking down you saw the primed grenade, “Grenade! Take cover!” you yelled to the rest of your team.

You don’t know why you did what you did. Maybe it was because you felt responsible for what was about to happen. You pushed JJ towards the rest of the group as one of your fellow soldiers pulled her behind the concrete building.

You threw off your backpack and jammed it into the grenade, before lying next to it in fetal position to block the explosion from expanding towards them. You were just counting down, waiting for the consequences. 

5, 4, 3, 2,1, you counted and your whole body relaxed as the thought that maybe the bomb was a dud crossed your mind. But just as you relaxed it blew up in front of you. 

“Y/N!” JJ screamed. 

The orange sparks and the smoke cleared, but you knew you were still alive. You were so disoriented, so disoriented to the point where you didn’t even notice that you were blasted so much further away from where you originally laid. 

JJ and the patrol medic ran over to you. She put her hands on my face and noticed how disoriented you were. JJ noticed the blood pouring down your nose and ears. 

“Y/N, I need you to stay with me,” JJ told you, drawing figures on your bloody cheeks, “The doctor’s checking you out, I need you to stay awake, okay? Please, for me,” her voice cracked. 

No matter how hard you tried, your eyes just seemed to shut and you couldn’t open them again.

“No!” JJ screamed as she continued to watch the house burn down in flames. 

Tears were flowing down her cheeks. The trauma of Afghanistan and the thought of losing you flooded her mind. She always wondered why her relationships with people after you never worked. 

She made excuses for herself. The idea that her job as a profiler took up too much of her time. Or the guys or girls she dated were just bad seeds. But that wasn’t the idea. It was the idea that she was still so in love with you, maybe even waiting for the day she’ll get you back. 

JJ looked around the rest of your team. Reid was trying his best to fight off tears, but you could hear him sniffling. He always thought of you as one of his best friends. You related to him more than anyone because of how young you were. 

Morgan and Prentiss stood up tall and were staying strong. But JJ could tell from a mile away that it was getting harder every second that was going by. Prentiss thought of you as a little prodigy, you reminded her of a young Prentiss, and all she wanted to do was protect you even though she knew you didn’t need it. 

Then there was Hotch who stood there emotionless, but he was just trying to actually stay strong for the team. Hotch knew that you were the reckless type, it didn’t take a profiler to notice that. 

The last thing he said to you before he introduced you to the team was, “I see that you want to fight, you’ve got this hunger. I was just like you when I was younger, head full of fantasies of dying like a martyr. Just remember, dying is easy, living is harder.” 

But then they saw a figure emerge from the smoke. The little girl you were carrying was unconscious in your arms. You were coughing up a storm as you crashed onto the lawn. 

The team and paramedics ran towards you. JJ cupped your cheeks as your eyes fluttered open and closed. The smoke that was filling your lungs, making it hard to breathe. The paramedics through an oxygen mask on your face as they tried to help you breathe.

You pulled it off really quick, “Y/N! Put the oxygen mask back on!” JJ scolded you.

You were coughing up a storm as you finally got out what you said between your coughs, “I’m still in love with you,” you told her.

She was about to respond when you started seizing on the ground. Hotch pushed the team out of the way so the paramedics could do their job.

JJ’s mine still drifted back to Afghanistan as she watched them drag you to the hospital. It reminded her of when they brought you back to the med camp after the explosion. The fear settling into her bones that she might not ever see you again.

When you were finally more stable to understand what was going on around you, you were in the med tent of the camp. JJ was sitting next to you with her hands intertwined with yours.

You moved slightly and her head shot up to look at you, “How bad is it?” 

“Your eardrums are perforated, but there’s suspected to be no lasting damage.Your backpack and body armor absorbed most of the damage. You know the doctors say you’re lucky, but I just say you’re stupid,” she told you and you looked at her with furrow brows. 

“That was a little harsh,” you muttered.

She rolled her eyes, “What you did was stupid! It was stupid and reckless! I almost lost you today because of how stupid you were being!” 

“It was heroic!” you screamed. It didn't matter to you that your head was still pounding and your ears were ringing from the explosion, but you were being attacked after you just woke up.

“You don’t see the point! I almost lost you! There are people who care about you! I care about you and if I lost you today I don’t know what I would’ve done!” she screamed, “So I need you to promise me that this isn’t going to happen again. That you’ll start being more careful and thinking more without doing,” 

You sat there in silence unsure of what to say, “I can’t promise that,” you whispered after so many minutes. 

She bit her lip, removing her hand from yours. JJ stood up and started packing up the things that she had in the tent, “Then I can’t do this. If you’re not going to even respect a simple decision as to being less reckless for your own safety, then I can’t do this. I don’t think that what I’m asking is too hard, but I guess it is,” 

“JJ,” you whispered, but it was too late she was already gone.

She didn't come to visit you after that. As you sat there in your own silence, you realized that you made a mistake. You wanted to talk to her, but every time you asked someone to grab her she would always be busy or she’d just never come. 

Once you were finally well enough to be discharged from med tent and back to your own, it was too late. There was a little note left on the hard mattress the two of you once shared.

“Y/N, I’ve decided to leave. Another state department liaison is coming to replace me. I just can’t stay and watch you throw your life on the line anymore. Maybe in another world, but just not this one- JJ,” the note read and you let out a groan of frustration before falling onto the mattress.

You woke up from your seizure to see JJ sitting the corner of the room. She was curled up in the faux leather seat as she was sleeping peacefully. Your mouth felt dry as you reached over to grab the water that sat on the bedside table. 

All your stirring around caused JJ to wake up, her head shooting over to you to make sure you were okay. You looked at her softly and smiled, “How’s the little girl?”

“Safe and recovering,” she answered shortly.

“Where’s everyone else?” you asked.

“They’re in the waiting room. I tried to get them to go home, but they insisted on staying,” she mentioned and you smiled softly.

You could tell she was holding back from what she was going to say, so you let out a sigh, “Whatever you’re holding back, just get it out,” 

“That was stupid of you,” she said sternly, reminding you of your very last conversation before you met her again, “You almost died again! And I had to be there to witness it again!”

“I saved a family’s life today,” you told her, your voice dry, but just as stern. 

“But at what cost? Risking your own?!” she exclaimed and you pinched the bridge of your nose, putting your head down, “It was stupid!”

“Can you stop saying that?! It was brave and heroic! Why can’t you just be accepting about it like everyone else?!” you yelled back.

“There it is again! With your heroic bullshit!” she threw her hands up in frustration, walking closer to your bed, “What’s the big deal about it?” 

“I need to be remembered! I need to have my name in books and you know sacrificing yourself and saving as many people as possible gets you there! My family’s legacy is shot, I need to make a legacy of mine and if this is the way to do it then so be it! I need to be a hero, so I can be loved since my parents never did!” you finally exploded, telling her all the reasons why you are the way you are.

“You don’t need to sacrifice yourself to be loved!” she argued.

You scoffed, “Well, apparently I do since the only time you’ve seemed to want to talk to me since I’ve joined the team is when I’m recovering from almost dying. I don’t understand why you’re so angry at me right now, you broke up with me. You left me to recover from the bomb on my own! So tell me, why do you even care?!” 

“Because I’m still in love with you!” she finally screamed and your eyes softened.

“You don’t need to sacrifice yourself to be a hero or loved because in my eyes you’re already a hero. I care because the thought of living the rest of my life without you kills me. Living my life without you the last few years was the time I felt numb. Then you came back and I wanted to give us a shot again, but I was scared,” she whispered.

“Scared about what?” you asked.

“You were still as reckless as ever. You are still so obsessed with getting your name in the history books that you don’t care who you hurt in the process. I was scared that if I got too attached that one day you’d just die,” she told you, “At least with breaking up with you, I knew you were still alive and I didn’t lose you forever,”

There was a moment of silence before she spoke up again, “You don’t understand that you risking your life out like that hurts the people who love and care about. You don’t need to have millions of people know your name, all you need are the ones who matter most to you and you don’t understand that. I love how protective and heroic you are, but I hate it more. The hate overcomes the love,” 

You reached your hand out for her to come closer. You intertwined your fingers together before placing a kiss to the top of her hand. She had tears threatening to pour down her face.

You brushed a strand of her blonde hair from behind her ear before you cupped her cheeks softly, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I didn’t know how badly my acts affected you. I wish that we talked about this when I was still stationed, maybe I could’ve knocked some sense into myself and we’d still be together,”

“But I’d really like a second chance JJ,” you whispered shyly, the fear of rejection overtaking your promise, “I’ll make that promise I should’ve made ages ago. Be less reckless, be a hero in smaller less dramatic ways. But I also understand if you don’t, I know I’m fucked in the head,” 

JJ leaned her forehead on top of yours before kissing you softly, “One more chance,” she whispered, “No more bombs, or gunmen, or fires,”

You kissed her once more, “I just hope I can be the hero that you deserve, the right kind of hero,” 

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you won’t be,” 

[dollslayer]

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

[nagirambles]

I saw your post on Gray and Erza backstory and I was wondering did you have any HCs/theories on the Rest of the cast before we found out about their past ? (I hc that Natsu had either A) abusive town that treated him cruel and that’s how he finds ingeel after he runs away , B) zeref worshipers killed his tribe and that’s how he meets Ingeel after fainting from his injuries ?) ( for the Strauss sibs I hc was that there grow up in a church ?)

The Strauss siblings, you were pretty close! Their village seems to be very superstitious on the church side, that’s for sure. I think I was more thinking about how they all used Take Over? And so I thought it’d be cool if their backstory involved being raised in very indigenous tribes that lived deep in forests and mountains, where they lived in places where beasts frequented in a sort of survival of the fittest way. I think their clothing dismissed that theory quickly for me, though. I did think of a ‘raised in a prestigious and abusively strict orphanage/school’ sort of backstory as well, with Mira turning incredibly delinquent as a shout of freedom and rebellion. 

For Natsu, I think I liked the idea of a Mowgli-type story. Child abandoned in the forest and a dangerous ancient beast picked him up... he grows up as a dragon child, so when Igneel leaves, he’s devastated, but he gets over it to some degree because he knew that dragons have such enormously long lives, it didn’t matter if Igneel was gone for a dozen. He insists he’s ‘looking forward to seeing you again’ for a very long time, because big strong dragons are patient, not crybabies that can’t leave the nest. Yes, I do think Natsu should be more feral in canon. 

Also, my thoughts on the dragons were that one day, a big huge thing happened-- a calling to the end of the world, some kind of thing that required dragons to come at once and discuss things/do some intense damage control across the world-- among the elder dragon community (lmao), and so they all left to deal with it, and it took much longer than any of them expected. Or, most them them got sealed/died in the process, which left their kids alone. Child me didn’t have a very creative imagination. 

Levy Jet and Droy, I think there was a time very long ago where I had this strange backstory thought up for them. It’s kind of AU. I always thought of Jet and Droy as more ‘fanatic elder brothers/cheerleaders’ over actual love interests, maybe because I also have two older brothers and I loved projecting... But what I came up with was that Jet and Droy aren’t human, probably something akin to fae. They’re not strong at all, but they’re kind of immortal. And then they meet Levy, a hardworking child working multiple jobs, trying to survive, and they fell right in love with how adorable she was. They definitely wanted to protect her no matter what, and they start frequenting the places she worked just to watch over her and hit away anyone looking for trouble or taking advantage of her. They’re not strong at all, which means they get beat up and end up with Levy trying to figure out how to mend their wounds. Levy was ostracised where she lived, so when she finally lost all source of income, the boys decided to take her and run off to other towns to help her earn a living. That brings them to Fairy Tail eventually, and they’re actually overjoyed that Levy is stronger than them now. 

Maybe they hated her because they thought she or her mother could commune with spirits (witch superstitions?), but she actually couldnt. Ironically the aforementioned spirits were jet and droy the whole time, and they're just watching.

I think, before the Lisanna death reveal, there was a scene where Cana said to Mirajane, “what happened with Lisanna hurt all of us. but Elfman’s trying to move on in his own way,” and in that moment I was possessed by how interesting it would be if Lisanna had betrayed Fairy Tail and gone on the run, breaking everyone’s hearts because especially with the super sweet dragon egg episode, she seemed the least likely to go down a corruption route. (And that would have made it so, so cool.)

[maxwell-grant]

You have done an (excelent) post on how to reinvent Batman as a Pulp Hero. Do you think you could do one to Superman as well? Or do you think it is impossible to do this with the progenitor of the Super Hero genre without transforming him in a totaly diferent character?

Well, you saying it as impossible only makes it seem ever more tempting of a challenge, but yes, it is a bit harder. I'm gonna link my Batman post here as a reference point.

Partially because Batman's a franchise I've thought extensively about for a long time in regards to what I like about it or how I'd like to approach if given the opportunity, which is not something I can really say for Superman until more recently the Big Blue to start orbiting my brain. I don't have years worth of redesigns or fan concepts saved on my galleries and files to comb through to pick and choose here, and my experience with Superman as a character is considerably different, in some aspects more deeply personal, and not really something I'd like to go into in this blog, at least not now.

Part of the reason why it's harder is also because Batman and Superman have very different relationships with their pulp inspirations. Batman was, ostensibly, a pulp character adapted to comics, a dime-a-dozen Shadow knock-off who picked up and played up diverging traits from other characters and gradually ran with them to gradually forge a unique identity. Superman right from the start was rooted in a much stronger conceptual underpinning: the Sci-Fi Superman and Alien Menace who, instead of being a tragic monster or a tyrannical villain, becomes a costumed adventurer and social crusader. Even the name Super-Man was taken from an early story of Siegel and Shuster about a telepathic villain who ends the story lamenting that he should have used his powers for the good of mankind instead of selfishness. I hesitate to call what Siegel and Shuster were doing “subversive” because that term's picked up a real negative connotation, and it's not like Siegel and Shuster were out to upend their influences (they were pulp aficionados themselves), but rather putting a more positive, new spin on them.

Which is why it also becomes a bit harder to do what I did with Batman and align Superman with some of his pulp-esque inspirations, like John Carter, Flash Gordon or Hugo Danner, without just making it "Superman but he's John Carter", "Superman but it's Flash Gordon", and "Iron Munro / Superman but everything sucks" respectively. It's harder to create a character that wouldn't feel reduntant and derivative at best, and actively contradictory to Superman at worst.

I guess if I had to come up with a "Pulp Hero Superman" take I liked, well first of all I'd have to take steps to distance it from the likes of Tom Strong or Al Ewing's Doc Thunder, those two are as good as it gets in regards to Pulp Supermen. I stipulated for Batman a "No Guns, No Murder, No Service" policy partially to distance my takes on Batman from all the "Pulp Batmen" that just add guns and murder and take Batman back to the barest of basics. Likewise, I'm adding a "No Depowered Science Hero" rule here, which means it's a take that's likely going to veer off a lot more into fantasy and probably enough tampering with Clark's character that it does risk becoming a different character.

Frankly I don't think I'm gonna succeed at doing these without just making it a new character entirely, because with Batman you can get away with just upending the character's aesthetic and setting and even origin and still keep it recognizably Bruce Wayne (in fact Batman does that all the time), which isn't really the case with Superman, who needs those to remain recognizably Superman as he goes through internal changes and character shifts. I guess what I'm gonna do here is more taking the building blocks of Superman/Clark Kent and see a couple new ways I can rearrange them to create a Pulp Superman

Perhaps something we can do is to scale back or recontextualize the "superhero" parts without diminishing Superman's role as a superpowered fantasy character.

One way we can start is by picking on that connection between Superman and the sci-fi supermen/alien monsters of pulps I mentioned earlier and play it up further, to create a Superman who's deeply, deeply alien in a way that no mild-mannered disguise or colorful outfit can really disguise, something so dramatically powerful and alien, that instead you could get tales about the kinds of ensuing changes and ripple effects this has on the world upon the The Super-Man's arrival. And for that I'm gonna have to quote @davidmann95's concept for Joshua Viers' absolutely stunning Superman redesign on the left side of the image above

The red, the goldish-orange and white, the alienness, the angelic, sculpted feeling, the halo, that innocently curious expression: it’s genuinely beautiful. Superman as a redeeming science-angel from beyond our understanding, as much past the uncanny valley of limited human comprehension as a Lovecraftian monster but tuned to the opposite key - you could spend an endless procession of human lifetimes trying and failing to understand this being, but all you’ll ever know for sure is that it is beyond you, and it knows you, and it loves you.

Superdoomsday from Earth 45, healed and transformed into the savior it was originally envisioned as? Some descendant of his, or a future of the man himself? An alien who picked up on a broadcast of Superman from Earth, and so inspired reshaped itself in his image to spread his ‘gospel’ to the stars?

Alternatively, to come back to Earth a little, many, many pulp characters and series were built off the antics and personalities of real people, celebrities getting their own magazines or serials or fictionalized takes on them, so perhaps one way to make a "pulp" take on Superman would be to emphasize a bit more of Superman's real-world roots, trends that inspired his creation directly or indirectly at the time. The Jewish strongman Sigmund Breibart and Shuster's interest in fitness culture, Harold Lloyd's comic persona, the rising "strongman" film genre in the early 20th century, actors Clark Gable and Kent Taylor that supposedly named his secret identity, Clark Kent being a socially-awkward journalist based of Siegel's own school experiences.

Maybe one start to an authentic Pulp Superman, who would still be Superman, would be to just ask the question "What if Superman was a real person and/or a celebrity, and they started making pulp magazines and serials dedicated to him? What would those look like?". You wouldn't even have to restrict it to just a story set in the 1930s, in fact you could even play around with the rise of new mediums over the decades.

This third one is a little closer to some plans I have for my own take on a Superman character, not necessarily what I would do with Superman proper but one of my ideas for a Superman analogue. Superman's a character I'll always associate strongly with childhood and childhood fantasy, and to tap into that I would emphasize the other end of the fiction that influenced Siegel and Shuster: comic strips, in their case specifically Little Nemo and Popeye.

In my case I would bring additional influences from some of the comic strips I personally grew up reading like Monica's Gang and Calvin and Hobbes, and I already talked a bit about Captain Fray in terms of how he’s a Superman character despite being a villain. I guess you could call this one "What if Superman was a public domain comic strip character, stripped of the importance of being the founding figure of a super popular genre or extended universe, and also was kind of ugly?".

He's not "Sloth from the Goonies" ugly, I swear I didn't actually have Sloth in mind when typing out this idea, I've never watched that film nor did I know until now that he actually spends the film in a Superman shirt. That's not really what I'm going for. Visually I was thinking of modeling my take on Superman heavily after Hugo from Street Fighter and his inspiration Andre the Giant, to really emphasize the “circus strongman / freak wrestler” aspect of Superman’s inspiration, particularly in regards to how Hugo’s SFIII version strikes a really great balance in making Hugo ugly and both comedic and fearsome in battle, as well as lovable and even a little dopey (without being outright stupid, like his IV self) in his victory animations and endings.

He's still Superman, he still goes on fantastical adventures to help people, he's still a deeply loving and compassionate soul whose face beams with joy and affection and who's got wonderful eyes and a great smile. It's just that this smile has a couple of mismatched stick-out teeth or some missing ones, and he's got a crooked smile some people take as smug or malicious, he’s got a strongman’s gut instead of a bodybuilder’s abs, his nose is a little busted (maybe he’s had too many crash landings), and his hair is a little wild or greasy, and he doesn't exactly have very good people skills because of how others usually react to him and, y'know, he doesn't get the kind of publicity Superman would get despite doing ostensibly the same things. He’s not deformed, he’s incredibly intelligent and capable, but in comparison to how superheroes are usually allowed to look, he might as well be Bizarro in the public eye.

It becomes a running gag that people tend to assume some nearby fireman or cop was the one who rescued the hundred orphans out of a burning building single-handedly, meanwhile he's getting accosted off-panel by police officers who think he set the building on fire, or think they can bully this weird man dressed funny. He goes to rescue old people in peril and occasionally they yell at him that they don't have any money. He doesn't get asked to lead superhero meetings or teams even though many in the community advocate for just how much he does for the world, he gets censored out of tv broadcasts or group shots (even his face is sometimes pixelated when they do show him), people invite him on talk shows and don't really let him talk or assume they got the wrong guy. He goes to rescue a woman dangling off a building, and then he gets attacked by like three different superhero teams who assume he must have kidnapped the poor damsel. He was the first superhero, he is the strongest of them all still, but he never really gets credit for it, it nor does he even want to. None of this at all stops him or deters him, except for some occasionally funny reactions.

This never really changes for him, he doesn't really earn people's approval nor does he have to, instead the stories, outside of the gags and adventures you’d expect from a comic strip, veer more towards others learning to be less judgmental and him learning ways to better approach people. He isn't any lesser than Superman just because he doesn't look like most people would want him to look and he doesn't have to look like Superman. Really I think we could use more superheroes that don’t look all so uniformly pretty.

Again, probably not a take that would work for Clark proper, but it’s one way I would take a shot at doing Superman with my own

I have other stuff in the works for this character but I'd like to keep them to better work on them for now, but yeah, these are three of my shots at developing a Pulp Superman.

Alternatively here's a fourth idea that's more pulp than all of these: Join up Nicholas Cage with Panos Cosmatos again, or whatever weird indie director he decides to pair up with next, and let them do whatever the hell they want with Superman. Give us Mandy Superman. Superman vs The Color Out of Space. Superman vs Five Nights at Freddy's. Superman’s quest to find THE LAST PIG OF KRYPTON. Anything goes.

[superhero--imagines]

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* I don’t know why but the only characters I see getting into arranged marriages are Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento

* Gojo is kinda obvious, he’s a part of a pretty prestigious and affluential family So it makes sense they have a more selective breeding process

* More on that later-

* But Nanami is the real curveball

* Idk something about salaryman Nanami who’s incredibly disillusioned with Japanese corporate culture and who daydreams of retiring in some low-cost country in twenty years just screams arranged marriage material to me

* Like on paper he seems perfect, makes a good salary, has a calm and collected disposition, he’s pretty handsome too

* He’s a little cold, and he doesn’t seem to talk too much

* But the aunties all assure you that’s a good thing

* Wouldn’t you rather have a calm husband than a hot-headed one?

* Your first ‘date’ is a walk in the garden while your respective families talk and iron out the details

* You appear calm on the outside as you walk beside him, but I promise you’re short-circuiting on the inside

* He’s so tall!!!

* You saw on his marriage resume that he was above six feet, but you hadn’t really processed it until he was standing right beside you

* You’re pretty sure he seems even taller because of his stern face

* You try to steal a peak from the corner of your eye but all you can make out is his shoulder

* Ah Geez, even if you’re pretty tall yourself this guy is ridiculously tall

* “Careful, It’s slippery here,” he says offering you his arm.

* You wrap your hands around his arm-

* And this guy is totally ripped!

* You can feel the hard muscle as he guides you down

* He’s not even flexing!!

* With that body and his salary he could probably date anyone he wants so-

* “Why are you agreeing to an arranged marriage?” The words escape you unconsciously and your hand flies over your mouth

* Did you just say that out loud?!?!?

* It’s not the most revealing thing to say at one of these things, but the elders in your house did scold you for “just trying to make conversation” the first time you said something like that on one of these “outings”

* Nanami doesn’t seem offended though, his expression not shifting in the slightest

* “This just feels like the right time”

* You tilt your head to the side

* Nanami means that since he’s chosen to go back to be a Jujutsu sorcerer, this might be his only chance to have a ‘normal’ domestic life

* And it’s selfish, he knows that

* Any day now he could die at his new ‘job’ and leave his new spouse all alone

* But try as he might he can’t stop himself from wanting this

* From wanting to come home to someone, from wanting to have someone to enjoy whatever time he has left

* And he knows if he dies like this, full of regret and remorse, he’ll only become a curse

* So he needs this

* You think what he means though, is that he’s just reached that marriageable age

* You get it, you’re at the age yourself

* You never really met anyone it worked out with romantically

* Either it didn’t work out with you, or you didn’t like their family, or they didn’t like your family-

* It makes you feel a little better than even a total smokeshow like Nanami has trouble meeting someone at this age

* “I’m the same way” you grin at him, with a small laugh and he smiles at you, letting you hold his arm for the rest of your stroll

* You enter a “courting” period with him shortly afterward

* Which means mandatory outings every Sunday since it’s the only day you both have off

* You figure you’ll spend most of the courting dates at pretty somber places but Nanami takes you everywhere

* The aquarium, the zoo, museums, botanical gardens, anywhere that’s lively really

* “Why do you always take me to places like this?” You ask as you walk beside him in the amusement park

* Someone like Nanami doesn’t strike you as the kind of person that comes to places like this

* He holds that same neutral expression as always

* “I guess....I’ve always wanted to come here with someone” You feel his hand brush against your own, and when you look up to him you see there’s a light pink dusting across those sharp cheekbones

* Awww cute!!!!!

* Without hesitation you grab his hand in yours, earning a startled look from him for a second before it softens

* “Where else do you want to go Nanami-San?”

* “Anywhere is fine, as long as it’s with you.”

* Nanami might look strict, but he’s actually a huge softie

* Catch him leaving early from work/working longer hours during the week even when he’s got work to do just so he can make you’re regularly scheduled outings

* “Are you sure this is okay Nanami-San?” You ask, he looks pretty worn out honestly, you wouldn’t mind skipping a day, you’re not going to call off the engagement just because he canceled one date.

* “I wanted to see you”

* Welp, there goes your heart

* Racing along like it always does when you’re with this man

* You decide to change the venue from a bicycle tour of the city to watch a movie

* It’s one of those B-Rated comedies since you got tickets last minute

* Nanami actually falls asleep on your shoulder ten minutes in, you don’t have the heart to wake him though

* “Rest all you need”

* Nanami is a pretty traditional guy, I feel like he wouldn’t really make a move while you guys are “courting” outside of a kiss stolen here or there

* I bet you have a small engagement party and a nice traditional wedding ceremony

* Nanami probably (reluctantly) introduces you to Gojo who whistles low when he sees you

* “So that’s your type huh Kento? I always thought you were married to your work”

* Nanami has to restrain himself from beating Gojo

* “Pay him no mind, he’s just an idiot”

* Gojo is kind of like your adopted child tbh, catch him hanging around your house, eating your food, and teasing Nanami just to get a ride out of him for his own entertainment.

* “Oi Dad I need more money I want to go hang out with my friiiieeeends!!!”

* Cue you laughing as Nanami tries to control Gojo’s single brain cell

* Lololololol

* Nanami isn’t perfect, sometimes he has trouble communicating or making you feel validated

* But he loves you a lot, and he always makes sure to respect you

* And when you’re around him, life always feels fun, and exciting, and full

* What more could you ask for?

[ramzawrites]

IronGolem!Hybrid!Reader - Protector - Part 3

Part 1

Part 2

Male

Pairings: none

Characters included: Quackity, Fundy, Tubbo, Punz, Technoblade, Philza, Dream

Warnings: blood, character death, cursing

Series: Part of my Iron Golem request series! 💙

Summary: Y/N helped the Butcher Army to escort Techno towards his trial only for this trial to turn into a surprise execution. An execution that finally gives Y/N the chance to flee that he was so desperately looking for, all along. Even if others had to push him towards this opening.

Words count: 2684

Authors Note: Woops I thought this would be the last part but there will be a part 4 after all o7

As they begun moving Techno followed along quietly. Never pulling on the chains, just dutifully following behind Y/N. His eyes mostly trained on the horse that Quackity was now riding.

They walked back to where they left their horses and got back up on theirs. Y/N got Quackity’s horse and let Techno on it, leading that horse along as he rode his own black steed. Sometimes petting his horse, his rough hands weaving through the long black mane, more as a way to calm himself down rather than the horse.

Riding between Quackity who was at the front while both Fundy and Tubbo stayed at Techno’s side while Ranboo stayed at the end of the group. Ensuring that Techno didn’t try anything too stupid.

Throughout the whole ride Fundy and Quackity began taunting Techno, Tubbo would occasionally chime in as well while both Y/N and Ranboo stayed quiet.

It surprised Y/N a bit that Techno actually responded to some taunts with his own snide remarks that would usually shut the other party up, for a short moment at least. He certainly had his wits about him.

Y/N couldn’t help but look up to Technoblade in a sense. He himself was escorted away in a similar manner but other than Techno, he immediately gave up and just followed along with his captors. Not even saying a word against them and while Techno did follow them along as well, he still talked back, made them feel stupid about their own thoughtless comments.

And Y/N enjoyed the frustrated exclamations of the group whenever Techno made one of his targeted comments. This was not a good situation for the warrior but he kept his dignity and a part of control and power in this situation.

Technoblade was strong and Y/N was not.

No, Y/N was weak willed and naïve. He should have fought more. Tried to escape or tried to send along a message to his home, to his people. Should have asked Ranboo to maybe check up on the town, after all he seemed to be the most reasonable one of the group but he didn’t. He was too scared and just gave up. What kind of protector was he?

Then again, he couldn’t fight, and he had to work with what he can do. Sometimes staying alive was the best and even most rebellious thing someone can do. Maybe if he was just patient enough, he would find a chance to flee! Though whenever this thought crossed his mind he feared that he had missed his one chance already due to his cowardice.

It didn’t take long for them to reach L’Manberg. Getting off the horses to walk back into the town middle. Y/N still holding the chains that were keeping Techno’s wrists bound.

As they walked further into the town, they passed Philza’s home.

The winged man stood on his upper balcony, staring down with a cold expression “You actually got him.”

“Get inside! You are on house arrest!” Tubbo just yelled back as an answer but Techno turned to face his friend, pulling on the chains in the process. Y/N pulled them back again, scared with what could happen next.

“Phil! Phil! What did they do to you!”

Fundy got his axe back out and pushed the flat side against Techno side, urging him to keep on going. This unspoken threat seemed to be enough for him to ignore his old friend and instead continued to follow Y/N who in return followed Quackity and Tubbo.

Though as Y/N pulled his gaze away from Philza, he could see a fond softness in his eyes. Worry mixed with anger. It was the first time he saw genuine emotion on his face, rather than the forced smiles he portrayed usually.

“Lead him up there, keep the chains around his wrists in there and stand close by.” Tubbo ordered the Iron Golem Hybrid, pointing at what looked like a cage right beneath a strange structure that Y/N couldn’t immediately make out what it was for.

But there was a foreboding feeling in the air.

Y/N opened up the door and without a word Techno just walked inside. The gate crashed shut again.

He could finally let go off the chain that he held on to. Dropping it as soon as he could. But the feeling of disgust stayed or maybe it was guilt. Maybe a mix. The less he thought about it the better, so instead Y/N just concentrated on Tubbo who begun a speech.

What kind of trials does L’Manberg have?

This wasn’t really a trial was it?

“Hey, Y/N, right?”

Y/N didn’t respond but stared at Techno from the corners of his eyes. Why was he talking to him? How should he react? Should he even react? Would the others hurt him if he visibly reacted?

“I know of you. You were-“

Though Technoblade didn’t finish his sentence. Smoke appeared in front of the stage and a person covered in armor appeared. They wore a white hoodie with netherite armor on top. Not even waiting a beat as they begun to attack the Butcher Army with their axe and crossbow.

Tubbo pulled his shield in front of his face, barely catching the arrow that came flying directly towards his face “Pull the lever, Big Q!”

Lever? What lever?

Even Techno seemed surprised letting out a quite frankly comical confused noise.

There was no hesitation on Quackity’s side. He immediately sprinted towards the structure and pulled the lever. Y/N could see a redstone pulse running up the build.

What the hell was going on?

Technoblade pushed his hands into his pocket, pulling out a small golden figure. Y/N couldn’t see it very well, but he immediately knew what it was.

A totem of undying.

Surprised Y/N stared at Techno only to see something black falling down.

He completely tuned out the sound of the fighting and screaming, his senses concentrated on Technoblade. His eyes directed at the black anvil that was flying with incredible speed down towards the cage.

Before Y/N could properly process what was happening, or the implications of this whole ordeal, the anvil was already on his eye level.

It connected with Techno’s skull with a sickening wet crack, immediately followed by an explosion of green light. It was so bright Y/N had to shield his eyes with his arms. Surprised by the warmth that came off the magic that engulfed Technoblade and revitalized his body. Pulling him away from the land of the dead and stitching his broken body back together.

As fast as the light appeared, it was just as fast gone. Y/N removed his arms and saw Techno jumping off the anvil and over the iron bars.

The man literally, just died but he didn’t waste any time to flee once he had the chance. Was it jealousy or admiration Y/N felt? He didn’t know, either way he was impressed.

While Y/N seemed to be a bit dazed, still trying to process this, Techno used the chance in between the chaos all around them to take a look around only to spot a masked man leading his horse away.

“He has Carl!”

He then proceeded to grab Y/N’s forearm and pulled him along. Techno’s grip was strong and unrelenting. Pressing down uncomfortably on a few burns that were just beginning to heal properly hence why Y/N’s first reaction was to pull his arm away, but the Pig Hybrid was holding on. Not giving him a chance to protest.

Why did Techno do this? Why did he tug him along? He clearly knew of Y/N but how? What did he know?

So, the best option was to follow him, right into a little opening at the side of a hill. Inside there was a room, lined with chests and another opening that seemed to lead into tunnels.

But what really caught Y/N’s attention was the man that held the reigns of Carl. A white porcelain mask with a smiling face hid away his face. A cloak hiding his physique and probably weapons.

Once inside the room Techno let go off Y/N to snarl “Dream, give me Carl.”

This masked man was the infamous Dream? His green hood was pulled up, the mask looked already unsettling but with the added shadow of the hood? As he stared at Y/N it felt like he was sizing him up. As if to wager something out.

Once again Y/N felt incredibly small under someone else’s gaze.

Dream slowly got closer and gave Techno the reigns of Carl “You brought him with you? I’m surprised, Techno.”

Techno walked up to Carl and pressed his forehead against that of the horses as a greeting “I don’t think we have the time to talk about this Dream, besides weren’t you the one trying to get him out of there?”

“Yes, I suppose you are correct. We don’t have the time to talk about this though. You two better get going. There should also be some armor and potions in one of the chests. And Y/N?” Dream turned towards him now “We’ll meet again, I promise you. You will get your revenge.” With that he ran off through the opening that Techno previously pulled Y/N in.

Techno rummaged through one of the chests. Letting out a disappointed sigh as he spotted some iron armor. With trained movements he slipped surprisingly fast into the clunky armor. Fastening it around himself and hooking the potions to his belt.

Hooves clicked on the stone ground as Techno lead Carl towards the tunnels “Not to put too much pressure on you but if you want to get out of this mess you better come with me.” Techno’s eyes rested calmly on Y/N. He was serious and looked like he was calculating something but there was something genuine and almost friendly mixed in.

“I- uh, understood.”

This honestly felt unreal. Like a dream. Though Y/N hasn’t decided yet if this was just another nightmare. It felt like a trap. Too convenient but what could he do? Run back out towards the city? He can’t fight like Dream or Techno, he wouldn’t get the chance to flee. Besides they would just capture him again and he didn’t want to think about how he might be treated afterwards.

His best bet really was with Technoblade but why he would do this for him after he escorted him to his own execution, he didn’t know.

Hell, how did he even know of him?

“Now, Y/N.”

Techno just begun moving into the tunnels. Y/N made sure to stay close. A spark of hope inside his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in ages. Is it okay if he takes this spark and holds it close? Just in case it breaks out into a fire?

Almost as if to answer this question both Techno and Y/N heard a voice coming from behind them. It wasn’t Dream’s. No, Y/N knew this voice too well. It was Quackity. Quackity has found him and would bring him back.

That spark seemed to dim after all.

“What the fuck is this? What is this Techno? How the fuck did that Anvil not kill you? And now you are stealing my things? Stealing my blacksmith?”

Techno let out a cackling laugh as he made sure to stand in front of Y/N. Grasping the hilt of his netherite pickaxe in one of his hands.

“Listen here Quackity. I tried telling you that the root of the problems here was government! I fought alongside you to show you! And you used me! So, I retaliated with force, to prove my point but you still formed a government! After that I was content with getting away from it! I tried to retire! I swore off violence! You still hunted me down! You-“

He moved his head around a bit, looking at Y/N from the corner of his eyes only to snap back to Quackity “You hurt my friends!”

Quackity didn’t seem to have noticed this but Y/N did. Techno referred to Y/N as his friend? He somehow felt like he was missing some vital piece of information. Never in his life has he even talked with him before this. Maybe he really just meant the horse, it stood off to the other side but surely, he must have only meant Carl. Perhaps Philza as well? Yes, those he must have meant. No way did he group Y/N in there as well.

Not after he was the one who escorted Techno away from his peaceful life with chains around his wrists.

Quackity bit down on his lip in anger before he answered “Techno, I don’t care about that. All that I care about is that you are on my hit list.”

“Hit list? What kind of Hit list?”

“I’m building up a nation and this nation needs direction, organization and I swear no matter what it fucking takes me, I will fucking kill you.”

Once again Techno laughed “Quackity, do you really think you are enough to kill me? Even unarmored and only in iron armor?”

At this point Y/N was straight up jealous at Techno’s confidence and cockiness. He would have just cowered in fear, given up but Techno did not. He stood strong, calm. Like a boulder between turbulent waters.

That spark that seemed to dim inside of him seemed to flare up again. If he just stayed close to Techno and trusted in him, maybe he is allowed to hope. Just this once.

Obviously Quackity tried to stay calm and collected beforehand but this seemed to push him over the edge “So be it! I’ll fucking kill you right here and now!”

He immediately took his axe out and jumped towards Techno who confidently blocked the attack with his pickaxe. With a simple twist of his arm and body, he hooked Quackity weapon with his own and then used his whole body to pull it out of his hands.

The axe flew through the air, landing with a loud clanging on the ground in front of Y/N. He didn’t think much about it as he slowly stretched his hand out and grabbed it. Holding the weapon close to himself. Seeing how he couldn’t fight, this weapon would be useless in his hands but at least he could ensure that Quackity didn’t pick it up again.

It was the first time he rebelled against him. It was the first time he took some sort of control over this situation. He did not give up. He did something.

As he looked up he could see a shocked Quackity.

“I only have this pickaxe, Quackity, but I’ll put it through your teeth!”

There was this bloodlust to his words. A malice that Y/N expected from Techno before he met him. As his only idea of him was that what the butcher army told him.

He realized that their stories relied on a kernel of truth though in this moment he wasn’t scared of this Techno. No, he saw pain, self-preservation and conviction in his actions right now.

Quackity evaded one of Techno’s attacks only for his second to hit. Hitting his open mouth with the pickaxe and dragging it across his face. Resulting in Quackity to fall down motionless. Blood spilling to the ground as his body slowly dissolved into gold dust. He was respawning.

Technoblade just took Quackity’s first life. Just like that. It went over so fast. Like it was nothing.

Without seemingly missing a beat he turned around to look Y/N dead in the eyes, now calm again “We need to go. Now. I’ll explain everything to you once we are safe. I promise.”

He didn’t even wait for an answer and instead begun leading Carl through the tunnel again.

Y/N took a second to stare at the dissolving Quackity only for Techno to pull him back out of his thoughts “Y/N!”

“Why are you helping me. Just- Just tell me this. I’ll follow you, I promise, but I need to know.”

Techno sighed “Because how couldn’t we? How can you see injustice and not do anything?”

____

Tag: @plaguedoctorsnake

[bxckybarness]

Together

summary: you and bucky are both recovering in wakanda but haven’t spoken to each other, up until now

word count: 1400+

a/n: just a little something i came up with today; maybe i’ll keep it going if that’s what the people want :)

part two

Life has a way of consistently knocking you over and leaving you begging for one moment of stillness. You can’t remember the last time you really felt at peace. The past few years of your life had been anything but peaceful, but could you expect anything else when you lived, worked, and were friends with the Avengers? No, you couldn’t.

And it’s not to say you didn’t enjoy life because you did. You loved your co-workers, who were more like family to you now. You loved the thrill of a new mission and the adrenaline high that you would undoubtedly have for days after. You loved that you got to go to new places and meet new people. You truly loved it all but wow, were you wiped out and ready for some silence.

Wakanda was meant to be a place of rest and restoration for you. You had nowhere to go after the Iron Man vs Cap showdown. Your closest friends within the group were all going on the run or into hiding, the others silently choosing to move on with their lives. The Avengers were the only family you had and without the consistent action of everyday life with them, you weren’t sure what you would do moving forward.

King T’Challa was kind enough to offer you a place to stay in Wakanda. He understood your loss and wanted to allow you a place to call home. After all, “We’re already hosting Bucky, why not you too?”

Bucky.

A man you hadn’t met yet, at least not formally. You had fought the winter soldier once in the middle of the freeway and nearly died in the process, but hadn’t seen him since. You knew little about him beyond what Steve had told you in moments of reminiscing. From what you gathered, he was a very nice, simple man that happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, you might call him troubled. Not exactly under the direct control of HYDRA anymore, but not exactly himself either. Or at least that’s what you heard.

Bucky was intriguing to you. You knew he was in Wakanda for similar reasons to you - to rest and restore. And that was putting it lightly, after all, only one of you was undergoing an intense brainwash reversal process. You hadn’t talked to him much since your arrival in the African nation, however you had seen him quite often in passing, especially on days you helped Shuri in her lab.

You were always leaving as he showed up, looking tired and like the ghost of a man who had lived 3 lives over. In a small way, you understood his stress, certain that the events of the past few months had weighed heavy on all those involved. Some more than others, yes, but it was weight all the same. You knew little detail of what occurred during his sessions with Shuri beyond the basics, but you figured it was strenuous given the standoff-ish mood he always had in the lab. Maybe someday, you thought to yourself, you would stay a little longer and talk to him - try to understand the man behind that hardened look.

And maybe that day would end up being today.

On days you helped Shuri, most of your time was spent organizing documents and cleaning up the space from the last project or assignment. While an incredible mastermind, she didn’t enjoy the behind-the-scenes details. You didn’t mind the work - it gave you something to think about other than your stress and of course, provided a new-found friendship in the Wakandan princess.

On this particular day, time had gotten away from you. You usually managed to finish your tasks and be ready to go by the time Bucky arrived in the lab. But today when he walked through the fast-opening doors, he found you at a desk in the corner of the room intently looking over some papers in front of you. Upon hearing his boots hitting the floor, you glanced up quickly.

“Bucky, hi. Oh my gosh, what time is it?” you say in a panicked whisper, quickly moving your gaze from him to the watch on your wrist.

He chuckles softly, something unexpected by you, before speaking up, “Actually, I’m early.”

“Oh,” you respond warmly, a small smile gracing your features. “Well, Shuri should be here soon.”

He nods and takes a seat in a chair a few feet from where you were positioned. After a moment of silence, he speaks again, “Y/N, right?”

The slight bewilderment at the fact he knew your name must have been noticeable in your expression because he followed his statement with another, “Steve told me about you.”

“Makes sense, considering he told me about you, too.”

A flash of nervousness falls across his face before he nods at your words and the two of you fall back into a silence that is surprisingly comfortable. You glance back down at the papers in front of you, but can’t bring yourself to focus with the super soldier sitting in front of you. When you move your gaze back to him, he’s already looking at you, the nervous touch present in his stare only moments ago now a spark of curiosity.

“So you work with Shuri, then?” he asks.

You shuffle the papers into a stack, working clearly pointless, and move them to a drawer before responding.

“Just organizing and stuff. I’m not smart enough to do what she does,” you say with a laugh and a small gesture to the room around you.

He nods, his face remaining emotionless, his gaze now turning from you to the various gadgets and machines placed around the room. You hadn’t expected him to be so shy but his timidness calms your nerves and gives you a newfound confidence.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” you speak up softly. “You know, you. As in Bucky.”

He quickly moves his gaze to the floor. The reason he had been hesitant to speak to you before this chance run-in today was because he remembered you, just like he remembered them all. He could recall the look on your face as his metal arm wrapped around your neck that day, intention to kill. He could recall the red of your eyes, the gasping of your breath. If Steve and Natasha hadn’t been there, well, he knew what would’ve happened.

You knew too, but you didn’t blame him for it. How could you? You had heard plenty of stories about HYDRA and had dealt with them enough on your own to know they never cared about the human underneath. Whoever Bucky was then, was clearly not the man in front of you. That much was evident to you, but maybe it wasn’t so obvious to him.

“I mean it,” you whisper. "And as far as I’m concerned, first impressions aren’t always everything.”

You can see his shoulders relax only slightly at your words. But even a little bit was enough for you. Before either of you can speak again, Shuri comes strolling into the lab, right on time, as per usual. Upon noticing the two of you, she smiles and offers her greeting to you before turning to Bucky, “Come, we have lots to do.”

He stands, eyes not meeting yours and retreats to the center of the room where Shuri stands. You watch for a moment before following suit by standing and gathering your things. This wasn’t how you expected your time in the lab to go. You can’t say you ever really expected to talk to Bucky Barnes - the hidden away soldier with a gruff, seemingly unwelcome attitude. But you had, and something about him intrigued you more than you would like to admit. Maybe it was because beneath the surface, you both had your traumas and you both chose to heal them here. Maybe it was the shared connection you had with feeling lost, all friends on the run. Maybe it was more than that.

And Bucky felt it too. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes followed you as you left the lab. For some strange reason, he felt comfortable around you despite your brief interaction. It was a comfort he hadn’t felt in years - not since before HYDRA. Hell, not since before the war when he and Steve were just two random Brooklyn boys taking girls dancing on the weekends. Something drew him to you. Maybe it was because he hadn’t felt judgement dripping from your words as you spoke to him. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen the rage in your eyes at the mention of his ex-assassin exploits. Maybe it was more than that.

And maybe. Just maybe, the two of you would dive in. Open closed doors. Learn to heal.

Together.

[glassheartjukebox]

a series of fortunate events

feat. aone

“i can be your babe if you won’t let go” - cariño

a/n: part of the soulmate event! please check out the other parts here. reblogs are appreciated!

inconvenience colored your life. soulmate marks were beautiful, unpredictable, and permanent. a mark you were born with that dictated where your soulmate would first make physical contact with you.

you’d seen marks worse than your own. a hot headed friend of yours from middle school had a dark red mark adorning her knuckles; likely meaning she’d punch her soulmate when she met them. you’d seen marks just as perplexing as yours, like the coworker with a fuchsia mark around her ankle. you still hadn’t quite figured that one out.

your mark was annoying for two very distinct reasons. 1. it is incredibly visible. 2. you had no idea how you’d get this mark.

your mark was a big blotch of peach directly on your forehead. upon entering high school, you’d decided bangs might be the way to go. specifically because people didn’t make eye contact with you, but rather with the mark on your forehead.

friends and family posited many situations for your “first touch” over the years. your mother insisted that they’d kiss you on the forehead. another family member insisted your mark would be from your soulmate checking your temperature by laying their hand across your forehead. you’d given up on pondering. eventually, you’d get your answer when the mark began to shimmer.

for now, your friend yachi was dragging you to a volleyball tournament. as their new manager, she believed it was her duty to show her team’s skill off to the world. who are you to deny your sweet friend?

“yachi!” you yelled over the stands, spotting her among the spectators. turning at the sound of her name, she flashed you an excited smile and waved you over. sliding into the seat next to her, you also met saeko, an older girl and tanaka’s big sister.

the johzenji match felt never ending. despite not caring much about the sport, you were tightly gripping yachi’s hand for most of the match and praying that karasuno would come out on top. ultimately, they did.

karasuno approached the stands and thanked the crowd for supporting them. you thought yachi and saeko were going to scream themselves hoarse praising the team. you saw hinata, a familiar face in the crowd and gave him two thumbs up.

“good job hinata! nice kills!” he beamed back at you, clearly eating up the praise. the team disappeared below the stands, likely going to regroup after the game.

“come on girls! i wanna congratulate my baby brother in person.” saeko practically yelled at you guys. yachi was bouncing out of her seat in an instant. you, on the other hand, couldn’t find your phone anywhere.

“just one second- goddamnit where did i put my phone,” you grumbled, checking under the seat to no avail.

“come on y/n, we’re gonna miss them!” yachi pleaded.

“found it!” saeko piped up, handing the device to you. she took that opportunity to get a vice grip on your hand.

“let’s go girls,” she cackled, pulling you and yachi through the crowd at a fast pace.

“excuse me- i’m so sorry,” yachi squeaked out apologies while saeko recklessly dragged the two of you through the crowd. as you entered the hallways, the crowd thinned. a ways ahead of you, you spotted hinata’s orange hair rounding a corner.

“that way!” you motioned for the corner you had just passed and started to jog with saeko, grabbing yachi’s other hand. unexpectedly, you were enjoying yourself. saeko was a ball of unpredictable sass; her energy was contagious. why not be a menace?

yachi was still spewing out apologies to passers by while you had joined saeko in her maniacal laughter. the aforementioned corner was coming up fast and you rounded it at a quick pace without a second thought.

well, you tried to round it. instead, you found yourself flat on your ass with a dull pain in your forehead. you reoriented yourself quickly, finding a massive volleyball player with white hair standing in front of you, quite bewildered. Saeko was next to you in an instant, helping you up while this mountain of a man stood in front you, shell shocked.

“i’m so sorry, i should’ve been paying more attention. are you okay?” you were bowing as deep as you could, hoping you hadn’t injured the poor guy.

he stood there silently, and you were starting to get a little confused. was he that offended? it was nothing personal, you were just being a dumbass.

“uh, y/n?” yachi whispered beside you, “your forehead, it’s different.”

“wait what?” you asked rhetorically, whipping out your phone and flipping the front facing camera. rather than the stagnant, dull peachy mark that previously adorned your forehead, you found the mark has changed to an irredescent and ever moving peach glitter. the man in front of you slowly pulled his collar foreword and looked down his shirt, presumably to where your forehead had made contact with his chest.

“oh wow.” was all he said.

“that’s one way to meet your soulmate,” you smiled softly at him. his stature was both impressive and attractive. the fierce red blush adorning his cheeks made him significantly less intimidating.

“aone! come on, we’re starting warm ups now!” an unknown boy grabbed his arm, looking confused at the situation. thinking fast, you grabbed the game schedule that has been handed to you at the door, and scribbled a quick note.

“aone,

xxx-xxx-xxxx can we see each other somewhere else? i hope your second impression of me will be better than the first. regardless, i’d really like to see you again

xoxo,

your soulmate

in a moment of boldness, you grabbed his hand and slipped the note into it. you curled his hand around the small prince of paper and gave him a soft smile. aone’s face remained shocked, clearly still processing everything that just occurred.

“good luck at your game, i’ll be watching from the stands.” aone only responded with a soft smile and put his hand on top of yours, squeezing it.

yachi and saeko were on their own for the reminder of day. you were watching date tech’s infamous iron wall and wondering what those strong hands blocking the ball would feel like intertwined with yours.

©glassheartjukebox all written content belongs to this user. do not repost, modify, or copy content

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll wait and i’ll listen

word count: 2.1k

warnings: mentions of deafness/hearing loss, cursing, i think that’s it

recommended listening: new song | maggie rogers & del water gap

a/n: hi! first and foremost, i want to say that this is based off my own personal experiences with a deaf father, and it is in no way a reflection of how other people or families with hearing issues operate. this is just how we live and how my dad goes about life. with that out of the way, enjoy some soft nolan content i threw together in 45 minutes. pretty sure i made this gender neutral, but please point out any mistakes!

There’s no legitimate reason for you to be so apprehensive about Nolan meeting your parents.

He’s a great person who is all you could ever ask for in a partner. The two of you get along like peas in a pod, and honestly most of the time your relationship feels like two friends hanging out. Of course there’s a bit more romance involved – but being with Nolan is so easy you barely have to think about it. 

Your parents aren’t the issue either. They’re both incredibly supportive of your relationship, and anything else you do. If it weren’t for them, you never would have left home – they’re the ones who packed the car and drove you all the way to Philadelphia. You never would have met Nolan if they hadn’t practically forced you out of the house and into the world. 

Truthfully, both parties would probably get along great. Your mother is kind and welcoming, and your father has interests similar to Nolan’s. Your younger siblings adore him – they came to visit one weekend and you took them to an afternoon game at Wells Fargo Centre, and afterwards the four of you went out for burgers. Since then they talk to him regularly, and have been begging for you to return home with Nolan. You can tell your parents are getting antsy too – after all, you’ve been with Nolan for nearly two years. 

Yes, Nolan has a busy schedule that doesn’t allow for much travel, but there have been plenty of opportunities over the years for everyone to get together. You’re the one who always comes up with a reason for him not to meet your parents. One time you were ‘sick’, another you were too busy with work to make the trip home. It isn’t that you’re worried they won’t approve or that Nolan will resent them. You’re apprehensive about bringing Nolan around because you’re worried there will be a communication barrier. 

Your dad is deaf, and Nolan doesn’t exactly enunciate his words well. His voice is also exceptionally deep, which doesn’t help much. It isn’t a secret, your father’s hearing issues, and you’ve spoken to Nolan about them numerous times. Most of the time it’s you fretting about it getting worse and he listens intently while you sob into his chest. Since the hearing loss came from years of working around loud machines, it was gradual, which was frustrating for him. You were in high school when he got hearing aides, but eventually they lost their desired effect. Now your dad relies on reading lips and other non-aural markers like hand gestures to fill in the gaps. 

“Babe, I have to meet them at some point,” Nolan says through a mouthful of pasta. “Especially since I plan on sticking around.”

Your mom had called earlier in the afternoon to ask when you were coming home next. The upcoming weekend is free in your schedule, and when you told her she insisted you bring Nolan. He’s out for the season with the migraine related issues so you couldn’t exactly lie and say he was going to be out of town. Instead, you fed her some bullshit excuse and said you’d check to see if he could move some stuff around. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I just don’t want you or my dad getting frustrated if talking doesn’t go smoothly.”

Nolan pushes his chair back from the table and walks to stand behind you. He rubs your shoulders soothingly and leans down to whisper in your ear. “There are a million and ten other ways I can communicate with him Sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”

Deep down, you know he’s right. There’s no reason the two of them can’t communicate, even if they can’t do it verbally. After discussing it more and ironing out all your doubts, you call your mom back to let her know both you and Nolan will be coming. A small weight lifts from your chest, knowing that you’ll get the first meeting over with, but dread slowly creeps in. There are so many ways it could go wrong. 

☼☼☼☼

You and Nolan stand on the doorstep of your childhood home hand in hand. As if he can sense how nervous you are, Nolan squeezes gently, reminding you of his unwavering presence. 

“Whatever happens isn’t going to change the fact that I love you,” he says, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

To steady yourself from the negative thought swirling in your brain you lean closer to Nolan. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and uses his free hand to knock on the door. Less than two seconds your sister is bounding towards the door and flinging it open. 

“Mom! Y/N and Nolan are here!”

She steps to the side and lets the pair of you in. You shrug off your jacket and hang it on the rack behind the door – Nolan copies. As soon as you’re inside the entryway your mother is wrapping you in a massive hug. 

“I’m so glad you’re home darling,” she says, arms tight around you. “Was the drive okay?”

You go to answer her question but her attention is turned to your very tall boyfriend who is standing beside you like a deer caught in the headlights. 

“You must be Nolan. It’s so nice we could finally meet. Y/N has told me a lot about you.”

Nolan clears his throat before speaking, his deep voice echoing slightly off the ceiling. “All good things I hope,” he laughs, looking to you for reassurance. 

Nodding your head, you join in his laughter. You travel farther into the house, giving your brother a fistbump when you pass him in the hall. When you moved out your parents converted your room into a sophisticated guest bedroom, so there aren’t any embarrassing posters from your teenage years on the walls for Nolan to make fun of. You quickly unpack your suitcase, wanting to get back downstairs and spend time with your family. It’s been a while since you’ve been home, and you missed them more than you thought. 

“Is your dad here?” Nolan asks, hanging the couple of sweaters you guys brought up in the closet. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, you shake your head. “He’ll be home from work just before dinner.” 

The two of you head downstairs to chill with your siblings, but not without sharing a few kisses that make your spine tingle. At your brother’s insistence the four of you head to the basement to partake in an air hockey tournament. Though Nolan can hold his own in the NHL, he’s rather miserable at this iteration of the game. Your sister eliminates him in under five minutes, and after a hard fought battle you defeat your brother. 

Nolan tries to coach you before the gold medal game but you laugh him off. “Nol, you were terrible. I think I can hold my own.”

He breathes out harshly through his nose, but you know he isn’t upset with your teasing. “Fine,” he mumbles, “See if you can win without my all-star advice.”

Your sister manages to win in a shootout. It was a close game, and you challenge her to a rematch after dinner. She accepts, insisting you’ll lose again. Nolan bets he can race her around the property, so you move outside. Your mom lets you know dinner will be ready soon, and you throw her a thumbs up. 

Though your sister is a fast runner, she’s got nothing on Nolan’s six foot frame. He passes her with ease, cheekily throwing her the finger as he rushes by. You’re the finish line and instead of stopping when he reaches you, Nolan throws you over his shoulder and continues running through the yard. 

Your laugh rings out as you kick your feet. “Put me down!” you shriek. When he makes no attempt to prove he listened to your cries, you try again. “Nol, come on, put me down. If you fall it’ll be really bad.”

Knowing you’re right, Nolan stops moving and gingerly places you on the ground. His hands move to cup your face and he plants a warm kiss on your lips. You refuse to let it get too far, but you lean into him slightly and sigh when he pulls away. 

In the distance you hear your mom calling for dinner. “Kids, it’s time to eat,” she says. “Your father just got home.”

Your heart beat rises exponentially, and your steps drag slightly as you get closer to the door. Nolan notices, but doesn’t say anything. Instead he flashes you a smile that’s reserved just for you and makes your heart melt. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure I don’t mumble.”

In the dining room, you guide Nolan to sit beside your dad. You figure it’s the spot where he has the best chance of hearing your boyfriend, and no one seems to protest. They give each other a polite nod while the rest of you rush to place everything on the table and serve the food. 

Once everyone is sitting, Nolan takes the initiative to introduce himself. “It’s nice to meet you Sir,” he says a bit slower than his normal speaking voice, making sure to clearly enunciate his words. 

There’s no response from your father, and you suck in a breath. You watched him focus on Nolan’s lips while he spoke, but you fear he still couldn’t quite understand what your boyfriend said. It takes a few more beats for him to process what was spoken, but then your dad is cracking a smile and holding his hand out for Nolan to shake. 

“Glad Y/N isn’t hiding you from us anymore. I thought the first time I’d meet you was at the engagement party.” His voice is a few decibels louder than everyone else’s, due to not being able to hear himself, but Nolan doesn’t seem to mind. 

They slip into an easy conversation about work and hunting, asking each other a million questions. There’s barely room for any one else to contribute but the rest of you don’t mind – it’s been a long time since your dad has been able to go this long without asking someone for assistance. Of course there’s a few bumps in the road – Nolan not speaking clearly or looking elsewhere while telling a story, but that was to be expected. You step in when needed, repeating phrases and recreating scenes with hand actions. Overall, the meal goes swimmingly, and the two men leave the table eagerly to swap stories. 

You spend the time catching up with your mother, and she gushes over how Nolan is handling everything. “He’s doing so well,” she exclaims. “He’s so patient with your dad, waiting to make he understood what was said before continuing, and he doesn’t have an issue repeating himself a few times. You really lucked out Y/N.”

“I know,” you say honestly. “He’s simply the best.”

It’s a few hours later that Nolan finds his way back to you. You arch your brow, wondering what he got up to, and he explains that your dad took him for a walk in the forest to show him the deer he’d been tracking the past couple of weeks. It’s heartwarming that they get along so well, and you feel a little silly for fretting over what would happen. 

☼☼☼☼

“Your dad is nice,” Nolan shrugs as you crawl into bed beside him. “I could hardly tell he was deaf most of the time.”

You tuck yourself into his side and hum. “He does a great job of not letting it define him,” you agree. “But thank you for being so patient with him.”

A small peck is placed to your shoulder blade and you sigh at the contact of Nolan’s lips on your skin. “He did grumble about how my voice is too deep,” he laughs. “Said he could barely hear me. Once I knew that I made sure to speak clearly and let him read my lips.”

You’re speechless. None of your friends or past romantic partners had made that much of an effort to treat your dad like he was a person. They got short with him for needing them to slow down or repeat themselves, and often would refuse to see him again. It’s part of the reason you were so hesitant to introduce Nolan – you wanted to protect him from another person who might treat him differently because he can’t hear.

“I really fucking love you,” you whisper into the darkness. 

You can practically hear the grin in Nolan’s voice as he speaks. “I really fucking love you too.”

The rest of your stay will go just fine, you think as you drift to sleep. There was nothing to worry about, and you can’t wait to watch a friendship blossom between your dad and boyfriend. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales @kiedhara @tortito @boqvistsbabe​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[hartrathaway]

Hii I'm interested in Hartley's story but I know literally nothing about him except that he was Wally's gay bestie in the 90s, what's his deal? Do you have any comic recs for him?

HI IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!!!!!!

Okay, so really brief, his dealio is: born to ‘incredibly rich’ parents (we never get a specified ballpark, but Hartley states that he was ‘born with two silver spoons in [his] mouth’ if that helps context wise), Hartley’s deaf!  His parents had him get cochlear implants when he was a child, which ‘medically healed him’.  (His deafness has been treated extremely ablest by writers who actually remember he’s deaf, I need to warn you of this now.)  He’s a music and sound waves guy, a former villain (it’s an on again off again relationship, but a lot of his character is defined by his time as a hero) and he’s very leftist.  Gay best friend in the AIDS crisis turned Wally West from a midwestern conservative to a leftie as well.  (Wally’s wife, Linda Park, was a major contributing factor, but we’re focusing on Hartley for this, so I’m gonna talk about him.)

I’ve got a mix of good reading from all over, so I’m gonna break this into sections, and do my best to describe which is which.  (all my screencaps are from this website right here, because i do not own all the back issues and it would have taken much, much longer to do this post, and as such, some of them are not sized or formatted correctly)  Click the read more if you’re interested!  Please note: I am not a 100% authority figure on Hartley, and I know there’s a few stories I have left out (the story with Bart Allen’s first appearance is a good one that Hartley is in), but these are the gist of who is he, what he’s been up to, and what is the family drama.

So for New Earth (otherwise known as post-Crisis on Infinite Earths), is where Hartley actually becomes Wally’s friend, and is a hero!  I’m going to focus on this section first.  Unfortunately, due to being a minor character, a lot of stuff is broken into small stories, or things that are happening behind the scenes, so there’s no real issue x - y that’s gonna help much.

The Flash Vol 2 #31, #32 Quick summary: In issue 31, supervillain here is killing homeless people, Hartley has been helping these same people get up on their feet by helping them get squatter’s rights.  They skip the fighting because a kid asks if they’re going to fight for a half hour and then team up, and go right to the team up.  They get Linda Park in, supervillain ends up backfiring his powers.  In issue 32, Wally, Hartley, and their pal Mason officially move to Keystone city.  Hartley’s folks are in trouble while the three of them are trying to freeload (off of Hartley’s parents, his and his parents’ relationship is better now than it had been, for a multitude of reasons), Wally and Hartley rescue Hartley’s parents, we also meet Jerrie, Hartley’s sister, and all is resolved there.  Yay, the family loves each other again!

(issue 31)

(issue 32)

The Flash Vol 2 #53 Special mention this is the issue where Hartley comes out and also has to inform Wally that Wally cannot tell who is a homosexual.  Also Wally’s an IRS agent here, for shame Wallace.  At least Hartley gets to cosplay Wally at the end, so that’s fun.  Content warning for this issue specifically is some casual homophobia, just so you know that going in.

(issue 53)

The Flash Vol 2 #170 In 170, Hartley’s being contacted by his father to call in ‘a favor’ that Hartley owes him.  The main plot line includes (one of) Wally’s ex(es) showing up, a former hero and teammate, Frances Kane, otherwise known as Magneta.  A person has been found murdered at Keystone Motors, and supervillain Goldface begins rallying union workers (which seems to just be a poorly timed coincidence).  The story itself (170 - 173) in and of itself is really fun, but I’m only going to talk about Hartley, or else I’ll be here all day.

(issue 170)

The Flash Vol 2 #174, #175, #178, #179 And here we get some drama! I’m grouping all of these together, since it’s all the same chunk of the story for Hartley, but since it’s the Flash, Wally’s center stage.  In 174, the people who were living with the Rathaway family aren’t exactly big fans of Hartley.  They know he’s changed his ways, he’s a hero now, but it’s just…  something feels off.  There’s loud music sounds, and bam!  Suddenly Hartley’s there and oh boy is this gonna be a hot mess.  In issue 175, we see some footage, and Hartley’s the lead suspect in his parents’ murder, considering that the footage has Hartley onscreen.  178 rolls up, and after Wally’s getting Gorilla Grodd taken care of (and that fight is a doozy), Wally gets to find out Hartley’s been arrested for the murder of his own parents, and Hartley confesses on-screen to his parents’ murder  (Also Hartley’s got a beard now, that’s how you know he’s depressed.) 179 opens with Hartley being processed.  Linda and Wally go to see him, and although Hartley confessed, he said “I think I did.”  (emphasis is mine; in the panel Hartley says “I think I did.”) Joker?  He’s got some Joker-fied people, and poor Hartley gets it too :(  Hartley straight up nearly kills Captain Boomerang (it’s okay, Wally stops him), and surprise!  Welcome back to Iron Heights Hartley.  Gonna have a fun time :)

(issue 174; this is the least messy part of the panel, but it was intended to be that way)

(issue 175)

(issue 178)

(issue 179)

The Flash: Iron Heights Brief interlude from the main comic line, we’ve got a one-shot that’s taking place in Iron Heights.  This takes place before Hartley gets arrested, presumably (since, y’know, they’re breaking in and all).  Fun one-shot honestly, keeps me on my toes the whole time.  Hartley’s a main character, and it’s less personal drama and very story driven.  You don’t need this to enjoy Hartley regardless, but I enjoy it!

(The Flash: Iron Heights, which you can read here.)

The Flash Volume 2 #189, #190 189! Now we find out how Hartley’s parents were actually murdered!  No spoilers, but we do get a prison breakout.  This is where we get some origin story! Don’t read this first though, because you’re going to be spoiling yourself the plot of his arrest.  In 190 we get more origin, including the way DC treated his deafness. (It’s ablest, and I’m still mentally grappling how you wouldn’t notice your child being deaf for two years, but okay Rachel and Osgood, you keep being bad.)  The story goes on for now, with Hartley on the run from… well, everyone.

(issue 189)

(issue 190)

This is pretty much it for New Earth Hartley up until Countdown.

I don’t like Countdown at all.  I’m much happier pretending that Countdown doesn’t exist (both because of how it treats Hartley for a multitude of reasons, and how Thad Thawne is treated leading up to Countdown).  More happens with Hartley’s storyline in Countdown, but I hate it with such a passion that I wouldn’t recommend it at all.  Countdown leads into Final Crisis, and I’m not a fan of either.  However, should you wish to read and make your own opinions, here’s Countdown and here’s Final Crisis.  Please note, Countdown’s issues are done in reverse order (so from issue 51 to 1, rather than 1 to 51)

And now I’m going to tell you the gospel truth:

I do like New 52 Hartley!  A lot. Unfortunately, he’s not as much in the n52 Flash run as I would like (but I’m biased, as obvious by my url).  What you need to know is that Hartley’s a musician now, like orchestra director, and he’s in a relationship with Barry’s boss, David Singh. (power move, honestly)  Unfortunately, we don’t get a whole lot in the main line.  Also at this point, the Wally West of New Earth hasn’t transitioned to the n52.  Wallace West of n52 is an entirely different character, and that’s a whole other issue for another discussion.  Wally West as we know him from New Earth doesn’t come back for a while.  Wally and Hartley haven’t talked since before Flashpoint, and that’s a shame. 

So read the Crimes of Passion Anthology he’s got please I’m begging you.  The only downside is that the artist gave him a haircut.

(Crimes of Passion: Secret Admirer)

I haven’t read anything DCeased related, and while I know Hartley gets his time to shine and kiss David, I can’t tell you much beyond that.  I’m pretty sure there’s other people who can tell you more, but it’s not me I’m afraid.  (This is me saying guys, please tell me about Hartley in DCeased, someone tell me about my fictional lavender marriage husband.)