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thyme-in-a-bubble · 8 months

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the brie

buttercup, chapter two

a/n: i was originally gonna go into more detail and dive into and actually write the traumatic moments, but i decided to go a little bit more easy on myself, just focus mostly on the healing part and regaining the good.

summary: “well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

warnings: matt murdock x baker!reader, neighbours to lovers, rape recovery, ptsd, wingman foggy, reference to croissant theft, alcohol consumption, drunk munching on cheese, kissing, crying, retelling of trauma (if it gets too much for you, then please feel free to just skip the last part of this chapter)

word count: 4978

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Scooping one divided lump of dough closer with the bench scraper in your grasp, you put it down before first folding the bottom of the blob over itself, then the sides and then stretched the top down as well before you rolled it all up to create that much more tension in the loaf. As you plopped the soft mass into one of the nearby dusted bannetons, nippily pinching the seam and giving it a few stitches, the ingrained dance only kept on as your fingers moved on to shape the next loaf of sourdough.

To your left, not at the central table where you worked, stood your uncle Howard, a piping bag of vanilla-flaked cream in his grasp as his rotund frame bent over rows and rows of delicate, flaky little pastries, filling the sunken centre up before he could top them off with little chunks of crimson berries.

“Are you alright, cupcake?” you glanced up to see Walter leaning against the doorframe that led directly behind the counter, “you look like you’re about to nosedive into the dough and use it as a pillow.”

“I’m alright, just didn’t sleep much last night,” you blinked back down at your work, noting how your weary eyes stung slightly from the lack of rest, “I had a nightmare that was really, really not fun, and immediately when I woke up I started crying and shaking, like instant panic attack, so I couldn’t really fall asleep again after that,” you glanced back up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“I just don’t get why it has to feel so real,” you let your hands halt their waltz as you shared, Howard too glancing over in your direction, “why my body needs to remember it so vividly when I fall asleep. It hasn’t forgotten it while I’m awake, so I don’t feel like I need the reminders… sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s–…” instead of uttering the painful truth, Walter instead let a heavy sigh flow and offered, “…do you want me to make you a cup of coffee? Maybe that could be nice, just a little bit?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, “thanks,” before clapping the worst of the flour off your hands, briefly wiping them against the chocolate brown apron that partially covered your t-shirt and jeans, and wandered around the table, shadowing Walter as he fiddled with the espresso machine, making it hum and puff, till he handed you a steaming mug that had a little heart in the frothy foam floating on the top.

“Here you go.”

Bringing it up to your lips, you offered him a genuine smile, “thank you, Walt.”

Staying behind the counter as Walter disappeared into the back, the chime of the small bell above the door brought your attention to the pair that then strolled in. Setting down your latte and expecting it to be just any other customer, your eyes instead went wide as you saw who it was.

“Heya, neighbour!”

“Y/n, hi,” Matthew smiled as both he and the floppy-haired man beside him came to a stop on the other side of the stocked display case, “uh, Y/n, this is my friend Foggy Nelson,” he gestured to the friendly looking fellow, “Foggy, this is my new neighbour Y/n.”

“The pastry goddess!” Foggy exclaimed excitedly, “I bow to the.”

“Goddess?” you giggled, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks as you glanced over at Matt, secretly in hopes that he’d gotten that nickname from him, “oh, I don’t know about that. My uncle’s the one who oversees most of the pastries. He studied in Paris back in the 70’s, so in other words he’s a bit of a control freak. But, he is getting better! Slowly letting me take care of more things that I’m more than capable of doing… I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?” you sucked in a sharp breath as you noticed

your rambling, “I’ll shut up. The point was just that he is the one who makes most of the pastries here, not me. He’s the goddess.”

“Well, I tasted one of your croissants the other day–”

“Actually,” Matt raised a hand and interrupted his friend, “you stole it.”

“I did not–”

“You came over and I turned away for two seconds and the next thing I knew you’d obliterated the entire bag.”

“That sounds more like your problem,” Foggy joked, managing to keep a straight face as Matt chuckled, “you’ve known me how many years now? You should know not to trust me with baked goods unless you mean for me to enjoy them,” turning his attention back to you, he leaned his folded arms against the tall section of the counter, “anyways, Y/n, that croissant was properly one of the best things I’ve ever tasted.”

“Really?” your face lit up with a bright grin.

“Yes, it was so buttery and flaky and urgh!”

“Well, if you liked that, you might like today’s special…” your feet began to carry you further to the left to the very far side of the counter.

“Oh, please do tell me,” he followed along like a magnet.

Pointing down to the pastry row on the other side of the glass, you explained, “it is this rhubarb danish that also has a little base of pastry cream at the bottom to balance out the tart compote.”

“Oh… my… god…” Foggy nearly salivated, his hypnotised gaze never straying from the treat, “you gotta be some angel sent from above.”

Busting out a laugh, you grabbed a brown paper bag, “should I take that as confirmation?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded as you plucked one up with a set of tongs.

“Will that be all?”

“I don’t know if it ever can be all, but slowly but surely I’ll get through your spread, and that is a promise,” Foggy accepted the bag into his waiting fingers, “but for now, yeah.”

“Matt, do you want anything?” you asked, feeling the flutter of butterflies wake up within your stomach as you returned your attention to him, “do you want me to describe the options for you?”

“No, I’ll just have the same as Foggy, as well as–, do you sell coffee?”

“Oh,” the scent wafting off your half-empty mug probably caught his attention, “yes, we do.”

“Then I’ll have a cup as well.”

“Oh, one for me too,” Foggy interjected. When you’d packed up another pastry and filled up two to-go cups, the shaggy-haired man pipped up as they were paying, “hey, what are you doing later tonight?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Properly just head home and rewatch some series for the billionth time,” you said, putting the cash they’d handed you away in the register, “why?”

“Well, we’re going out to our usual watering hole, or it’s not just us, Karen, who works with us, is also tagging along. Would you wanna join? Might be fun… might tear the city up, dance all night and watch the sunrise or whatever kids do these days.”

A laugh then rumbled within Matt’s chest, “we’re not gonna go dancing, Foggy.”

“You never know,” Foggy sang, “I’ve got moves like you wouldn’t believe!” he snuck a small sip of his steaming coffee before meeting your eye, “so, Y/n! Please tell me you’re coming?”

“…and then Karen was like what’s that? Turns out a giant piece of glass had stabbed my side,” Foggy clutched onto his drink as he told his dramatic tale, “I nearly died.”

Cutting her sip of beer short, the golden-haired woman sitting beside him at the round bar table objected, “you did not nearly die.”

“Oh yeah?” Foggy squinted light-heartedly back at Karen, “says the person who barely got a scratch. I single handily rescued both you and Mrs. C from that building and got a sick ass scar to prove it.”

Their voices faded away like grown-ups in a Saturday morning cartoon as you glanced back down at your drink and let the radiating heat of the man next to you seep into your bones. As your fingers brushed down the sides of the glass and played with the condensation, Matt suddenly reached out for his own, though in his search for the stout glass that stood ever so close to your own, his touch briefly grazed against your skin. But if that wasn’t enough to spike your heart rate, when his long fingers enveloped his short glass, the back of his hand pressed up against yours at the proximity.

You weren’t sure how long it persisted before he raised his dark drink up to his lips, but it didn’t seem like he was in a rush to let the contact fade. Your breath managed to grow ragged in the chunk of time you got to stare down at his hand, it looking so massive up against yours. Though the light in the dingy bar was low, you could still manage to make out the dizzying pattern of prominent veins that cascaded off the back of his hand like a calm rainfall rolling down a windowpane.

For a moment there, assisted by the few drinks in your system, you let yourself dream, just for a little while, just until Foggy’s voice cut through your haze and stirred you from your fantasy.

“… I mean, am I right? I’m right. Come on, Y/n, back me up here!”

“Huh? I’m sorry, uhm…” you blinked, in some ways feeling more drunk than you had a minute ago, “wha–what did you say?”

As Foggy then began to explain what you’d missed, Matt leaned down close to your ear and whispered, his hot breath tickling your skin and causing goosebumps to erupt.

“You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed fuzzily.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” you glanced down and noticed how rapidly your chest was rising and falling.

“Do you wanna go home? I can walk with you if you want,” he offered quietly.

“Uhm…” you blinked up at him before uttering, “sure, but I don’t wanna end your night before you want to.”

“No, you’re not,” he reassured you, “I’m ready to go home myself.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before Matt turned to the others.

“Guys, we’re gonna head home.”

“No!” Foggy boomed, “really?”

Throwing her hands up, Karen added, “but we haven’t even gone dancing yet!”

“Sorry,” Matt got up from his tall stool, “another night.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you tugged your jacket back on, “I had a lot of fun.”

To your surprise, they both got up and hugged you in return.

“Thank you for coming!” Karen gave you a tight squeeze before Foggy took over.

“And we’ll be seeing you for the next one, right?”

“Uh, sure,” you gave his back a light pat, “if I have time and stuff the day that it happens, then I’d love to tag along.”

Casting his glance upon the other lawyer, “bye, Matt,” Foggy then yanked him into an embrace, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Matt chuckled, clapping his friend’s spine, “I know, buddy.”

“You love me too, right?” Foggy pulled back, though still kept his hands fast on Matt’s broad shoulders, “don’t leave me hanging, it’s bad for a man’s health.”

“Foggy, I started a firm with you. Of course, I love you,” Matt smiled back at his sloshed pal, “good night.”

“Night, night,” Foggy patted his scruffy cheek before letting him out of his gasp, though adding as you turned to exit the bar, “night, Y/n! I love you too! I just met you today, but I love you!”

Soft giggles bubbled out of you as the door slammed shut behind you.

“So, those are your friends...” you smiled into the night, “I like them. They’re nice.”

“Yeah,” the corners of Matt’s lips turned further up till dimples bloomed, “they’re good eggs.”

As the two of you began to move along, the silence didn’t last very long at all.

“This is really nice of you, walking me home like this,” you uttered, “I know it’s just because we’re neighbours and headed in the same direction, but–”

“It’s not.”

“What?” your eyes found him.

“It’s not because we’re neighbours. It’s just, you know, the decent thing to do.”

“Right,” you exhaled, casting your glance back down onto the sidewalk as you momentarily got your hopes up.

“And you know how this city can be,” Matt went on, “it’s not smart for anyone to walk alone at night.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, trying to keep your tone nonchalant, “of course.”

When a street then appeared before you, slicing the path you journeyed on, and even though there wasn’t any traffic in sight, your hand still instinctively shot down to grasp Matt’s forearm before the two of you could cross.

Realising what you’d done, you quietly muttered, “sorry,” though couldn’t find the strength to withdraw your touch just yet.

“It’s okay,” his low voice slid from his lips like silk.

“I just didn’t want you to walk straight out into ongoing traffic...” you tore your gaze away from him and forced yourself to look at the road before you, “but there aren’t any right now, so we can cross the street…”

Guiding his palm up to the curve of your elbow, he accepted the gentle aid as you began to cross the lane.

Once you’d reached the other side and his grasp slowly began to drift back down. When his palm reached the height of your own, you softly caught it before timidly testing, “…do you mind if we–…”

“Hold hands?” with a gentle smile, he filled in before you might wonder if he could even sense your shy touch at all.

“Yeah…”

“No,” you felt him weave his fingers with your own, “not at all.”

His touch somehow felt even better than you’d imagined. Though surprisingly gruff, with harsh calluses all throughout, he cradled your palm with such care, like he’d held it a thousand times before, occasionally swiping his broad thumb over your knuckles, presumably just a subconscious gesture from his end that still caused shivers to trickle down your spine every time he did so.

You wanted the latter part of your walk home to last forever, engulfed in the comfortable silence of endless possibilities. But alas, when you did reach your building’s front door and then climbed the steps all the way up to your respective apartments, you couldn’t get yourself to let go just yet.

“Are you hungry? Because I kinda am,” you weren’t really, but anything to just stretch the night a little longer, “or maybe it’s just my subconscious taking care of me and lessening my hangover by giving me a sudden craving for cheese.”

“I don’t think I have any cheese.”

“I do,” you said maybe a bit too fast, “do you want some?”

Exhaling lowly, a soft smile twitched at his lips as he then uttered, “sure.”

As you unlocked your door, you finally let go of his hand, “make yourself at home!” you placed your keys down on the slender entry table before kicking your shoes off and peeling off your coat, hanging it up on the row of hooks, “oh, do you want me to, uh, describe the layout for you? Or just plant your down on the couch?”

“Just tell me the direction and I think I’ll be fine.”

Facing him, you haphazardly explained, “alright, the hallway goes on for a few steps and then it’s to your right–, no, wait, my right, that’s your left. It’s to your left.”

Whirling around, you delved deeper into your home till you reached the kitchen. Ripping open the fridge, you snatched up a block of half-eaten cheese before seizing a clean butter knife from the dishrack and a roll of seedy crackers from a cupboard.

Matt was already comfortable on your sage couch as you laid the humble spread out on the coffee table and joined him.

“I hope you like brie because that’s what I got. Unless you want a single slice of american cheese, then this is all the cheese I have to offer.”

“Brie it is then,” he relaxed into the cushions as you unwrapped the snack.

“Here, let me make you a bite,” slicing off bits of soft cheese, you spread it both on a cracker for him and one for you. Gently picking up his hand to place his snack in his palm, you then popped your own in your mouth and nearly melted into the couch next to him, “yep… that’s the spot…” you grinned hazily out the tall windows at the night sky as you chewed, “there’s just something about eating cheese when the moon is out that’s just so right in a way I can’t describe…”

Your murmuring conjured a light chuckle to rumble within Matt, one that swayed your gaze to train on him. Resting your head against the back of the couch, you watched as the moonlight reflected in his tinted glasses.

When the silence stretched on, Matt eventually cocked his head, “…what?”

Not tearing your eyes off of him, you breathed, “nothing…”

“You’re quiet,” his dark brows furrowed gently, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you repeated, feeling almost like you were floating in a calm sea.

“You tired? Do you want me to go so that you can go to bed?”

“No, please don’t, I–…” you reached out and grazed his arm, “could–… do you want to go?”

Letting his body relax once more, he breathed, “not particularly…”

Gazing up at him, your bottom lip snuck its way in between your teeth, “Matt…”

“Yeah?”

“You–… you’re–… I–…” your pulse pounded in your ears.

“Mhm?”

“I really, really wanna kiss you right now…” you uttered thickly before you had the chance to chicken out. Like a wave crashing a shore, you didn’t even think as you let yourself dive in and press your lips to his. The kiss however didn’t last too long as you swiftly drew back as soon as your brain turned back on and you realised what you’d done, an apology hastily rushing out of your lungs, “Oh my god… I am so sorry.”

“Y/n,” hearing your name on his silky tongue did not help matters.

“I didn’t mean to just–”

“Y/n,” he repeated, trying to cut through your fog.

“We can just forget any of that ever happened, I totally get it if you don’t–”

As he brought his hands up to cradle the sides of your face, your nervous ramble fell short. When he ghosted his thumb across your cheekbone, you swore that you stopped breathing entirely.

“…can I kiss you?” he slowly asked, leaving you utterly dazed.

“W-what?”

Drawing in a breath, he repeated for you, “can I kiss you, Y/n?”

Blinking back at him, you hazily hummed, “mhm,” before he leaned in and brushed his lips against your own. The kiss was soft, just as your shoddy attempt had been, but it made your limbs feel like they morphed into jelly. When the pecks soon departed, you filled your lungs with a shaky breath as you gazed back at him in total awe, “holy shit…” only staying there a moment before you had to have another taste.

Slowly growing more confident, the intoxicating kiss gradually grew more hungry. When his fingers then weaved into your hair, you realised that up till now he’d been holding himself back, gatekeeping a kiss that caused your frame to crawl into his lap, starving for more. Your little whimpers vibrated against his tongue as he danced it against yours, growing dizzy as you melted into the heart-stopping sensation.

But suddenly a tormenting flash stabbed your being, and you abruptly tilted your lips away from his, breathlessly uttering, “wait, wait, there’s-, there’s-, uh…”

“What,” he breathed thickly, nose grazing yours before you retracted further, “are you okay?”

“I’m…” carefully crawling off his lap, you kept going till you were a safe distance away on your own side of the couch, “Matt, there’s something I need to–, uhm, tell you…”

Staying silent, he patiently waited as you gathered up the courage needed to jump off the cliff and tell him.

Casting your gaze up to the tall and dark ceilings above, you felt your limbs begin to tremble, “okay, alright… I have no idea how to, uh, say this, so I’m just gonna do it,” and like a band-aid, you uttered, “I-, I was raped,” your eyes squeezed shut, not daring to risk glancing at his reaction, “a little over a year ago… and I haven’t–, uhm, done or tried anything with anyone since… so yeah, I just thought that was a good thing for you to know since even though I hope for there not to be any problems, I just don’t know, I don’t know what it will be like for me, if my body will suddenly freak out, but I just wanted to tell you so that in case something does happens, that you know not to automatically take it personally...” drawing in a shaky breath, you fluttered your gaze open and waited for his response, “Matt?”

“Yeah?” he answered carefully.

“Please don’t say that I’m scaring you away right now…” you shifted your position, turning to face him once more.

“You’re not, you’re not,” his head softly shook from side to side, “I just–… I really, really sorry.”

“Yeah…” you exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting the corners of your eyes, “me too…” staring at him a moment, you then bared your all and uttered, “I really like you, Matt,” a faint smile accompanied the declaration, “I think you might be the only guy in all of New York that I’m not scared of,” every other man you could think of had all had at least a second, a little flicker, of something that over the past year had terrified you, “and I don’t want you to think that I’m made of glass, that’s not what I want, that’s not why I’m telling you this. Please trust me when I say that I want to, I wanna do–…” a weighty exhale flowed from your lungs as your lips remembered his taste, “I wanna do everything with you… if–, if that’s something you’d like as well… but if we do, even though I really, really want to, I think it’s probably smartest to go slow, no pressure, you know, just in case, so that my body doesn’t freak out. Also, I’d really appreciate it if I at any point indicate for you to stop or even just pause a moment, that you’ll do that, that you’ll listen to me,” you briefly glanced down at your fiddling fingers, “and you know, I’m not saying let’s only do PG things, there are so, so many wonderful steps on the way that we can have fun with… I just–, I wanted to let you know now, before, so that we wouldn’t potentially have this conversation when something did happen.”

Only parting his lips when he was sure you were done, he uttered, “thank you for telling me. Are you–… are you okay? Was what happened before too much?”

“No…” you shook your head gently, “no, it wasn’t,” taking his hand in yours, you shared, “and I’m okay, I think… I mean, some days it still feels like it just happened, and others I notice something, something small, that I’ve gotten back, that I’ve regained…” absentmindedly tracing the lines of his palm with your thumb, you asked, “do you–… do you have any questions? Is there anything you wanna know?”

“No, I–… I just want you to tell me however much or little you feel comfortable with sharing.”

“…can I tell you? About it?” you asked slowly and he swiftly offered you a soft nod. Drawing in a deep breath, you began, “It, um, it was a Saturday night… I’d just gotten back from the bakery super late, maybe close to midnight… and when I was getting ready for bed, my roommate came home, he’d been out drinking as he usually spent his weekends. I remember we stayed up a while, just talking about the mundane stuff we always did. It was like any other Saturday, really. That was until I got too tired and went to go to bed, but he didn’t wanna stop talking, so he followed along into my room while I got ready and stuff,” averting your gaze, your bottom lip began to tremble, “we were just talking, it wasn’t anything special and then the next thing I knew, he was kissing me. It just–… it happened so fast… his hands were all over me… I remember he pushed me up against my closet so hard that my back was bruised the next day, and I don’t bruise that easily. He was just so wasted that I don’t think he realised or maybe even cared what he was doing. I tried to say something, tried to make him stop, but he didn’t listen to me. If he heard me, then I don’t think he understood what it was that I was saying… I would have pushed him away, slapped and hit him, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t move my body, not even a little, I just froze…”

“I can still feel what he felt like… like my skin won’t let go of the memory…” tears rolled down your cheeks as you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to ignore how your palm tingled with recollection, “how he forced me to touch him and held his hand over mine, making it move as if he just thought I didn’t know what to do… he was my friend, you know? He wasn’t just some stranger who dragged me into an alley and held a knife to my throat. He was my friend. He would always make offhand jokes about seeing me as just a little sister and how he wasn’t attracted to you at all. Made such a big deal of it that I never thought he’d try anything… I have no idea how long it actually went on… I don’t even remember when it was that I landed on the bed, if it was before or after he–… after he–… did stuff, t-touched me… I just remember I was laying there when it happened. The masked man, the devil of hell’s kitchen, he ripped him off of me…”

“He’d somehow heard… I think maybe if I hadn’t opened the window that night to air out the room, he wouldn’t have saved me… he beat him up... knocked him out… he told me to call the police, but I couldn’t, so I instead asked my uncle to come get me… my body’s never shaked the way it did that night… I remember I was so confused because I wasn’t cold, didn’t get it till the masked man said I was in shock… it didn’t stop till the next night… when he was about to leave, I asked what if Mi–,” you couldn’t get yourself to utter Michael’s name out loud without feeling as if your whole world would crumble around you, “what if he woke up before Howard arrived, and so he just stayed there with me, right till he somehow heard my uncle walking up the stairs and then he slipped out the way he came in, right before I heard the front door unlock.”

Letting out a long and unsteady breath, you raised a trembling palm up to wipe your cheeks.

For a while, the silence got to encompass the space completely, your left hand still shaking in Matt’s as you eventually heard him ask.

“Did you ever go to the police?”

“No. In the small window that I had to do one of those kits, I was just way too overwhelmed and confused and I just couldn’t think straight, I couldn’t do anything but relive that moment over and over again, so I didn’t do anything in time. But the longer time that passes and the more it sinks in what he did and the ways that I’m still paying for it, the things he ruined inside of me that I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back, the more I wish that I had gone to the police. But it’s too late now.”

“No, it’s not,” his fingers squeezed slightly around yours, “I could help you, I’m a lawyer after all.”

“No, Matt,” you said firmly, “it is. I don’t wanna sit there and hear them go oh, it’s your word against his, sorry, and have them think that not enough happened technically for them to take it seriously. Enough happened, trust me. I’m eternally grateful that Daredevil saved me from whatever else he could have done to me that night, but enough happened. Just because he didn’t stick it in me doesn’t mean nothing happened. That is the kind of belief that only belongs to people who think that the only sexual act that counts as sex is when a penis is in a vagina, and that is just so incredibly wrong,” an enraged laugh tumbled out of you as you fumed, “they are the kind of people who think that someone queer, disabled or just someone who isn’t into that sexual act isn’t actually having sex when they are. Sex is about connection, it’s about pleasure and there are endless amounts of things that can give a person pleasure,” clenching your jaw, you let out a heavy sigh, “I wish it could be different, I wish many things, I wish it hadn’t had happened at all, but it did, and I hope that at the very least he learned something from it, that he changed, that he wouldn’t do it again to someone else.”

#lea’s writing #buttercup series #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #matthew murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #matt murdock series #matthew murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #matt murdock hurt/comfort

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luveline · 11 months

Note

Hi Jade, I’m thinking about soulmate prince Steve again. Can I request something (any length) with reader starting to feel like she fits in and finding something she enjoys doing around the palace (lending a hand in the library? Working in the garden? Helping in the kitchen?) and someone makes a comment about it and she stands up for herself?

Basically I think it’d be nice to see how her relationship with Steve getting stronger helps her feel more confident in her position

prince steve au ♡ fem

You find that with proper instruction, time, and resources, you love to cook. It's an odd thing to discover in your twenties, perhaps; any of your peers who liked to cook were already learning by the time you left school, dipping into restaurants in the wealthier north city, or training for prestigious positions in the Palace kitchens.

Steve sneaks in to see you every now and then. You're pushing the brunt of your palm into a soft dough when you feel his touch, a quick stroke of the knuckle against your lower back before his hand comes up, cupping your shoulder.

"What's this?" he asks. "It looks good, smells good. You're smiling."

"Yes, I'm smiling, I'm happy. And you've come to see me."

"That's why you're smiling?" he asks.

A strand of hair has fallen into his eyes, and a second chunk follows as he leans in. Not to kiss you, though you'd probably welcome it, but to make sure you can see his smile too.

"Where's your crown?" you ask.

"I'm striking. How ridiculous it is they expect me to wear it in my own home, I don't care if there are deputies visiting."

"Can I take off my finery?" You've been dressed in very nice clothes considering they're now covered in flour, but the weight of the jewellery is the real annoyance. "It's too much, Steve."

Steve's gaze dips down to the mass of jewels held against your collarbone. "Too much," he agrees, reaching around you. His fingers brush the back of your neck, eliciting a tiny metal clink as he unclasps your necklace and pulls it free. "Much better. You don't need any of this to look fine." He pockets it.

You stroke the loose hairs from his face.

"Oh, sorry." You wipe at the smudge of flour you've left behind. "Sorry. I'm making it worse. Good thing you're so pale."

"Alright." He looks like he might giggle. "So mean to me. I'll go do some fencing in the sunshine and maybe you'll grow to love me." He does giggle, then, at his own joke no less.

He expresses that your loaf of bread should please god end up on his plate first, and then he kisses your cheek and tells you he'll see you at dinner. It's a very nice farewell that gives an extra aura of happiness to your bread-making.

"You won't actually give the Prince your bread, will?" one of the cooks asks.

It's innocuous, but it pisses you off. Steve is a Prince, yes, but he's your boyfriend, your soulmate (scream), he's your equal in partnership even if he's a royal, and isn't his treatment enough proof? Why would he come down to the kitchens to dote on you? Why would he ask to try your bread first?

"I don't appreciate the idea that it isn't worth his time. I'm making something and he likes me enough to want to try it. Why wouldn't I give it to him?" you ask, not angry, exactly, no icy cold zing. Just irritated and honest about it. "It might not be perfect, but if he wanted perfect he could ask for it."

"Who says you aren't perfect?" Steve asks.

You flush with heat. He grins at you and the cook who'd spoken, as well as the other assistants and apprentices who stop to stare. "Forgot to give you this." He presses a small pouch into your hand. "Dinner," he promises.

"See you," you promise back.

You let him leave before you turn from the counter to open his gifted pouch against your abdomen. Inside is a generous handful of sugar pear drops, the kind you ate together on your first stolen date a few weeks ago, and a note.

To tide you over.

P.s if I didn't make myself say it, you look super pretty today and I can't wait to see you tonight

–Steve

You put one of the sugar pear drops under your tongue and hide the note safe inside your jacket pocket, schooling your features into impassiveness as your soulmark glows a gauzy cerulean.

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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gay-victorian-astronomer · 1 year

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well, to celebrate my first Easter as a not-really-Catholic-anymore, and my first Easter with my own kitchen, I have made a Bread Jesus a la @gallusrostromegalus

(I meant to post this yesterday but it ended up sitting in my drafts oops)

he began life as a basic Italian bread dough, and proofed for somewhere between two and two and a half hours while my housemates and I watched Dracula (the original Bela Lugosi version)

he got shaped into a loaf and left alone while I told my housemates the tale of the Easter Mass incident (by way of explanation as to why I was doing this in the first place)

puffed, egg washed, and ready to go in the oven

he also got top surgery scars because I believe in trans Jesus supremacy, and then he was baked at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 28 minutes

he is risen, alleluia

(and also some of the best bread I have made to date)

(he is quite tasty and developed a very nice crust thanks to the egg wash)

bread of God, indeed.

#bread jesus #happy easter #greatest hits #my notes are a nightmare thanks guys

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Chrollo tells you a story from his childhood centered around bread.

(Warnings for religious mentions and canon typical depictions of his hometown, Meteor City)

“Hm… how uncanny is that.”

Knowing that he’ll continue speaking cryptic phrases until you express an interest you most certainly don’t have, you sigh, and rest your cheek on your fist.

“What’s uncanny?”

Please don’t mean the bread, please don’t mean the bread, please don’t mean the bread—

“This bread loaf,” he inclines his head toward it, as if you couldn’t spot the table’s lone occupant, “It’s bringing up some memories.”

He’s really going to talk to you about bread. Fuck.

“Meteor City, destitute as it is, was an attractive prospect for missionaries. My friends cared little for the religious doctrine they’d expound, but I always found the teachings fascinating. It wasn’t uncommon to go days without eating, so they’d come along with me on the sole condition that food was being provided. The priest, knowing this, had me relay the message that at his next teaching, there’d be fresh bread. Children overflowed from the tent that normally only I would occupy. He preached his sermon.”

There’s a nostalgic air to him as he continues. “By the end, he presented us with a challenge: whoever capable of best verbally expressing their devotion to God could have the bread. Each child present wanted to be the victor. There was a great deal of murmuring and thinking. He had us form a line, where one by one, we’d give what we hoped to be the winning response. My friend Phinks was first. ‘If I’d been there, I’da stomped the shit out of that snake,’ is what he went with. As you can imagine, the priest kept going down the line.

Eventually, he got to me. I’d been closely monitoring his body language and facial expressions. From what I could tell, no answer so far had even come close. I decided to take a different approach. From his theology, I could tell he was of the Roman Catholic persuasion. And so I suggested that to best prove our love, we should have mass. I thought that by focusing on the collective rather than oneself, I’d meet his unspoken criteria. He intended to keep the results to himself until everyone had spoken their piece, but no sooner as the words left my mouth did I know that wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

After everyone had their turn, he brought the bread out for all to see. While we were all excitedly wondering who the lucky individual would be, he raised his voice and began admonishing us. He quoted Matthew, ‘It is written: Man must not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God’. With that, he left us there, so that we could ‘think about what we’ve learned’.”

Your jaw practically hits the floor.

“I intended to counter his points later that night to see if I could win the community the bread they were promised. While I was preparing, a few children happened by, eating the bread that was pulled from under our noses. I asked where they got it from — they said Uvogin. Apparently, he learned what had happened and was incensed. I went to go see him so I could ask how he convinced the priest to give him the bread. I didn’t find Uvo at the place he normally hung out at, but I did see the priest.

He was… shall we say, arranged in a way that’s strenuous on the body. All the while he kept chanting, ‘Pater, aphes autois, ou gar oidasin ti poiousin’, though he lay dying. It left a strong impression on me. Especially because his pronunciation was slightly off… but more than that, I thought it interesting he held firm to the belief which landed him in this position. A belief he didn’t even understand properly. He passed with a content expression. He must’ve fancied himself a martyr. It later became a popular joke that in the end, he did prove that you can’t live on bread alone, since it didn’t seem to do him much good.”

“How… how old were you?”

“Seven or eight, I believe.”

You get up from the table. You can feel his eyes following your every movement, from the suite’s dining room to the living space it's connected to. The suitcase you’ve yet to unpack sits patiently as you rummage through its contents. Grabbing what you need, you return to the table, where Chrollo regards you with a curious countenance.

Your antidepressants rattle inside a small orange container as you put it before him. How he gets the medication, you haven’t the slightest clue. It’s more convenient to receive them from your enigmatic kidnapper than an uninsured trip to the psychiatrist. He’s got one thing going in his favor, at least.

“Do you already need a refill?”

You shake your head.

“Just… after hearing that story… I think you might want to consider getting some of these for yourself. High dose.”

#fun story time with chrollo (?)#yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo brainrot #my stuff

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luvfy0dor · 11 months

Note

Good day! How are you doing? I'm back with a small request. A reader keeps three kitties at home, but no one knows about it. What would happen if Chuya or Fedor stopped by to visit for the first time and three different big fluffy cats met them on the doorstep? Thank you for your artwork. They really are so awesome.

I hope I've made the right request. Have a great day!

“Guess I'll Just Stumble on Home to my Cats !! ♡” - Chuuya Nakahara x Gn!Reader ੈ✩‧₊˚

Warnings; i like describing really enormous cats, which is made obvious, some swearing, it's pretty silly

Description; Chuuya interacting with cats.

A/n; Bro I love cats sm I was so excited to do this request my bsf and I have matching cats theyre both orange and named garfield, but I'm gonna do a second part with fyodor! I just wrote a whole lot for Chuuya so I thought I'd separate it : ] OH ALSO TYSM FOR THE COMPLIMEBTS FJEJSJDJ ❤️❤️💖💖

• Chuuya is definitely more of a dog person, but that doesn't mean you'll never find him lying on your couch, hat over his face and a cat or two (or three) loafed on his chest.

ೃ⁀➷

You decided to invite Chuuya over for dinner in celebration of receiving a promotion at your job. You liked being able to share such an exciting moment with the people you loved, and Chuuya was absolutely one of them.

Chuuya had yet to venture to your house, not because he didn't want to, but because it was really hard to find time for anything recently. He had been very busy with work, and the distance from your place to his work or his house was rather inconveniencing. But, he wanted to join you for dinner, so that was just what he was gonna do.

So, there he stood, a small flower bouquet in hand and dressed in his usual classy clothing. He almost hesitated to ring the doorbell, but he pushed his pointless worries aside. There was nothing to be nervous about, after all. It was dinner with his lover, how scary could it be?

"It's unlocked!" You shout from the kitchen, cleaning everything up and plating the food. He twists the door nob and pushes it open, walking in before tripping. He caught himself, but he looked down, wondering what you could have possibly left on the floor right next to the door. Instead of finding a shoe or clothing item, he saw a fluffy black mass peeking up at him through it's furry coat. It meowed at him, skittering away into the kitchen. He was very confused as to where you had gotten a cat, you've never told him about this! He chalked it up to cat sitting before following in the cats footsteps and heading into the kitchen. He found you shooing the cat away very politely, waving it off towards to other room; and much to his surprise, it obeyed.

Chuuya had not once seen a cat so obedient, he always thought of cats as careless and independent animals, but apparently they listened just as well as dogs if trained right. Your eyes lit up when they landed on your boyfriend, then on the flowers, making your heart melt. "Aw, Chuuya! You're too sweet to me, you didn't have to bring me flowers!" You say, approaching him, he sighs and puts an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. "I know, but it's the least I could do for you, I mean you're making me dinner." He says, kissing your forehead and handing you the flowers.

"Still though. Thank you, Chuuya." You say excitedly, walking towards the cabinets and grabbing a vase, filling it up about a fourth of the way with water. "Yeah, it's no problem, doll. Hey, uhm, you never told me you had a cat around." He says with a slight laugh. You turned to him, furrowing your eyebrows before a look of realization came over your face. "Oh! I'm sorry, yeah, I have three cats." You gave him a grin, which widened when you saw his surprised face.

"Do you not like cats? I'm sorry, I should have told you." You say, straightening out your shirt. "No! No, it's alright, darlin', it just caught me by surprise, you know? I'm more of a dog guy..." He murmurs, hugging you and looking over your shoulder at the food. "That looks really good though." He compliments, gently cupping your cheek. You thank him and guide him aside with your hand on his waist in order to bring the vase to the dining room table. He jumps upon feeling something furry rub up against his pant leg, looking down to see an entirely different cat. He stares at the furry animal before hesitantly squatting down to pet it.

Running his fingers across the felines head, he smiled a bit, scratching it behind the ears before standing up to wash his hands. The cat, however, did not take no more for an answer. It butted it's head against Chuuyas calf, purring as it did so. Chuuya rolled his eyes and looked at it again, resisting the urge to pet it and have to wash his hands all over again. You return to the kitchen to grab the plates, setting them at the dinner table with a smile. Chuuya follows you out, the cat following him, like a train. Chuuya sits across from your seat and watches you situate yourself, a sort of love struck expression on his face. You notice and blush, a small and breathy laugh escaping your lips.

Chuuya is snapped from his adoring gaze by what feels like a trillion pounds of bricks being dropped into his lap, causing him to let out a loud "oomph." You look at him with confusion and concern and Chuuya looks down at his lap, seeing a massive and utterly colossal, prodigious, party-sized ass cat loafing in his lap. How it even jumped up onto him was entirely out of his scope of knowledge. You peered under the table and saw your largest cat on your boyfriends lap, making you frown.

"I'm sorry about him, he's on a weight loss journey, I promise." You apologetically say, getting up to remove the stupendously sized cat from Chuuyas thighs, gently plopping him down on the floor. He nods in response, putting his hands up defensively. "It's not a big deal, I promise. He looks like he's got the spirit to get to that goal." He says, remote enthusiasm in his voice. You nod with a smile. "He definitely does. I think you'll get along with all three of them well, I think they already really like you, especially (cat #3's name)." He smiles a bit and nods, taking a bite of his food, humming in satisfaction. "You're such a great chef, doll. Did you have the cats pick fresh herbs and spices or somethin'?" He playfully says, making you scoff.

"I wish those cats could help out. They're wonderful for moral support and occasional obstacles, though." You sarcastically reply. He smiles. "Do they actually knock stuff off of tables? I've heard a lot of cats like to do things like that, or sitting on keyboards?" You nod, taking another bite of your food. "Yeah, they've done it a couple times, they knocked pepper all over the place once and when they hopped down on the floor none of them could stop sneezing. I felt so bad for them." You say, reminiscing on all the times your animals inconvenienced both you and themselves with their antics.

Chuuya laughs a little, resting his head against his knuckles. "What poor little things they are, huh?" He laughs, looking at the three cats that were now sprawled out on the couch. You nod. "Maybe they just need another parental figure." You say, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He looks over at you, his cheeks slightly red and his lips parted. "What, do you want me to be their second/father?" You nod with a grin. "If you'll accept the offer." You smile, sipping on some water.

Chuuya smirks, leaning back in his chair and adjusting the sleeves of his shirt. "Obviously I'm going to, I would never deny you." He says, his pearly white teeth flashing as he speaks. Everything about him really was perfect to you, especially his willingness to be included in your little cat family. "Great, hopefully they'll learn to be a gentleman just like you." You say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and leaning into him.

A/n; dawg I'm posting this from a movie theater this movie is kinda boring and I gotta be here for 2 ½ more hours send help. Also if I flop again I'm crying tbh (Edit) WALKED OUT THAT BITCH LAST NIGHT W OLD ERAS TOUR MOVIE MERCH BECAUSE I WASNT ABLE TO GO SEE IT ORIGINALLY AND GET IT SO ALL IS WELL

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weirdmarioenemies · 3 months

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Name: Dr. Freezegood

Debut: Super Mario World 2: Yoshi's Island

Dr. Freezegood is a snowman on skis, and is very cute! It would be a very generic snowman (which is still a lovely and cute thing to be) without the skis. And I think there's a reason you don't usually see snowmen on skis... their poor snow private parts grinding against the ground! This is why snowmen ride SNOWBOARDS!

But Dr. Freezegood doesn't care! It says "As a doctor, I am smarter than most snowmen, and I know that snowmen do not have genitals in the first place. If I do lose any of my snow body mass while skiing, it can be easily replaced, and being made of snow, I cannot feel pain." Oh! Yeah, it was weird of me to mention snow private parts, wasn't it? "Yes, it kind of was." Thank you for your honesty. But if you know all this about how your body works, do you know how you are alive in the first place? How you have eyes? "Yes! Magic and whimsy." Oh! Of course! I was a fool.

Dr Freezegood does not ONLY ski. It's not like some meddlesome old woman who does nothing but ski. Indeed, it is not a Ski Biddy. Anyway, you cannot ski without taking the Ski Lift, of course. It waits politely and excitedly for its turn to have winter fun! Going down a slope at high speeds is fun no matter how you do it, usually, assuming you are not, for example, in the basket of a shopping cart careening toward a busy street. But that's not something humans do! That's something a loaf of bread or a carrot or a store-cooked rotisserie chicken does.

There is sadly no standard official art of Dr. Freezegood, but there are a few drawn on an official Yoshi's Island jigsaw puzzle! Those things are so weirdly common! Choose a random Yoshi's Island enemy, and there is a good chance its gallery will include an appearance on a jigsaw puzzle. It's nice, really! I like jigsaw puzzles. One day I will be immortalized on one surrounded by funny critters... oh yeah, these Freezegoods have interesting colors! Instead of a red bucket and a green scarf, one has both red, and one has both green! Like Those Two Guys... it also appears that rather than skis, these ones are on toboggans. I think those are better for a snowman!

Dr. Feelgood is such a Yoshi's Island localization name. You just KNOW that's some kind of musical reference. And it is! It's the alias of a blues musician, the name of a pub band, the name of an album, and more! What a potent reference that is. With a name like that, Dr. Freezegood must be really good at freezing Yoshi! Well when it touches Yoshi he just bounces off a bit. Bye

#dr. freezegood #dr freezegood #yoshis island #super mario world 2: yoshi's island #yoshi #yoshi enemies #mario #mario enemies #mod chikako

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cinnaminsvga · 8 months

Text

🥀 | yoongi

the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired

→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!

When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.

He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.

Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.

It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.

For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.

You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.

You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.

You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.

When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.

Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.

“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.

Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.

“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.

Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.

Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.

Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.

Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.

So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.

That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.

Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.

Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.

Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”

Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.

Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.

“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.

Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”

Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”

“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.

(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)

“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.

Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?

“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”

“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”

If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.

“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.

“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.

As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.

“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.

“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”

“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”

“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”

Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”

You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.

(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)

“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.

“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.

“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.

“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.

Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.

You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.

To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?

Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”

Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.

Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.

“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.

Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.

You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”

But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.

“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.

“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.

When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…

“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.

Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.

Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.

Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.

“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.

In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.

Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”

#yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagines #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts x reader #min yoongi #the sleep deprived series #this has been IN MY DRAFTS for months now....#god i am so stuck in my monster phase #i want to write more... MORE...#is this what it feels like to be inspired #idk who i think i am but man... love this guy #kinda obsessed with this au tee bee aych

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ilikepjo24 · 26 days

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Lol another dumb take on reddit

https://www.reddit.com/r/CharacterRant/s/ER8SmBToSm

WOW! There are so many things to unpack here...

"Iroh, the most-" Iroh!? IROH!? THE Iroh!? The "redeemed" warlord that only gave a fuck about being a warlord after it affected him personally? That Iroh? The Iroh that left a child to bare the weight of a nation just bc he, the mature responsible adult, wanted to sit on his ass instead of being mature and responsible? THAT Iroh? It seems awful like both those actions appear to be those of a selfish and unempathetic person. And let's not forget that even after his "redemption" he assaulted June. So how exactly is he the most understanding and kind person in the show, exactly?

Would you like to know who actually is the most understanding and kind person in the show? AANG.

The boy who found it in himself to forgive and learn to have affection for the dude that chased him around the world and almost hurt/killed him and his friends multiple times. The boy who found it in himself to forgive the nation that genocided his people enough to want to help them, teach them their old ways and bring them back to the light. The boy that found it in himself to spare Ozai, a sadistic, manipulative, abusive warlord that wanted to watch the world burn in an attempt to satisfy his narcissism. And may the record note that Iroh did not extended his own brother the same mercy. He believed Ozai needed to die, when Aang didn't. So Aang is more empathetic, understanding and kind that Iroh.

And do you know what Aang has to say about Azula?

That he believes in her ability to do good and be good. That he trusts her to do so. He could have had her executed. He didn't. He could have taken away her bending. He didn't. He could have said she's born evil and a bad egg. He didn't. He put in a good word for her. He said she did something good. That can be good. THAT'S what the actual most understanding and kind person in the whole franchise has to say about Azula.

"She smiles when-" So did everyone else and so does everyone ever alive when justice is served. Because for the audience, the event was unfair and traumatizing. But for the people of the Fire Nation it was justice. And it's only normal for people to be happy when justice is served. When a groomer goes to jail you don't think "oh, that poor groomer", you think "good, this piece of shit definitely deserved it". Similarly, in the Fire Nation, an imperialistic dictatorship, when someone disrespects their Firelord, which they worship as almost a god (if not more, bc we see them worship their Firelord more often than Agni), and that person gets punished they don't think "oh, that like boy", they think "good, this piece of shit definitely deserved it". That's not called "being a bad egg", that's called propaganda and borderline mass brainwashing.

"She mocks-" She's repeating what she heard from adults in her life. That's not being a bad egg, that's bad parenting.

"She tortures-" Not cannon in any way. We've heard that she threw bread at them. Not only was that told from Zuko's pov, who's known to be a biased narrator when it comes to Azula, but it's also not even that freaking bad. It's bread, when it hits the water it becomes soft. No one ever died because they got hit by a loaf of bread. And she doesn't burn them with.

"Her mother's comments-" Oh, you mean the "what is wrong with that child"? That comment? That comment that was thrown at a child after doing a very normal childlike thing? I used to to play execution with my Barbie dolls and beheading them by pulling off their heads and my least favourites would always be the ones that got executed. Kids break toys they don't value and/or like. Azula is not obligated to like or value a gift that wasn't for her. The doll was a gift for every little girl. It wasn't personal. It wasn't hers. She doesn't have to like or value it. She doesn't have to not break it. The only reason that she chose fire instead of execution is because she had fire handy. That comment Ursa made was absolutely not justified.

"She's never given an excuse-" Not only is this take proof that media literacy is dead, it's flat out anti-intellectualism. We see that Fire Nation schools brainwash kids by shoving propaganda in their faces and we know Azula went in a Fire Nation school. All that's left to do is put 2 and 2 together. It's 4. It's fucking 4. Azula was brainwashed in the Fire Nation school that she went to that brainwashes Fire Nation kids. Canon fact. Use your brain.

"Her vision of what she wants is twisted-" What, exactly, is twisted about wanting to be acknowledged by your family that is proud of you, being loved by your family that is supposed to love you anyway, and completing the mission you've been brainwashed into thinking is the right thing all your life? What is twisted about reaching expectations and having a happy family? I'll wait.

"We're supposed to sympathize with the spi- No, we're not. The spirit is very obviously a liar and a manipulator as we've seen throughout the whole damn comic. And it wants to eat her. The spirit is the villain of the story that has been continuously twisting reality to weaken Azula's ambition and will to fight back, so that it could kill her. By the end of the comic we're supposed to know that the spirit is a full of shit and we shouldn't trust what it says, since all it has said throughout the whole comic is lies. Not sympathize with it.

"Rationalizations of her behavior are believe yet unprovable and based on subtext." It's almost like she's not the main character. The show isn't going to take time diving into her background. They are going to only give us subtext and we have to use our critical thinking skills and come to a believable conclusion, as we do. Zuko loving Ursa isn't outright stated at the show at any point, but we know it's a fact because we see it in the way they interact. We know his mother matters to him because he thinks of her and misses her. That's subtext. And we know Azula is not to blame for the person she was bought up to be because Fire Nation schools canonically brainwash their students. That's subtext. You can't selectively decide that this subtext is enough to prove this point, but that subtext doesn't prove that point because it's not outright stated. That's called double standards.

"The show portrays her as being inherently evi-" The show? You mean the same show that didn't even portray the genocider, treacherous dictator (Sozin) and the abusive, manipulative dictator (Ozai) as inherently evil went out of its way to portray the manipulated, abused, brainwashed child as a bad egg? ...Sure. That's what happened.

"Mai and Ty Lee do the same stuff but are portrayed differ-" No, they are not. Mai is portrayed as somebody who abused the power they have over others, since she views ordering servants around as a fun activity, and as somebody who has no empathy towards their family, as she didn't hesitate to agree that her brother has less worth than a king. Ty Lee is portrayed as sadistic, since she's animated to smirk and sneer while taking down soldiers defending their homes. I think she even goes as far as to mock them at sons point, but take that with a pinch of salt. They are portrayed to be classist, sadistic, unempathetic people that only give a fuck about the select few and mystery everybody else. Y'all just refuse to see it because Ty Lee is cute and is constantly infantilized because of it and because Mai protected your lord and savior, Zuko, right after she was done being classist and unempathetic. They are not portrayed as better, you just go out of your way to portray Azula as worst.

"Even in LoK-" Azula is given Freudian Excuse. You just refuse to see it because, as opposed to Legend of Korra, the creators do not chew your food up and spit it in your mouth for you to swallow. You have to put the pieces of the puzzle together and make realization. Which can understandably be hard for people that have a brain the size of a peanut, like yourself.

"It feels weird for a show like Avatar to imply somebody was evil from birt-" It feels weird because it is weird and it is weird because it's something they would never do which is why they didn't do it. You literally just created this narrative inside of your head while understanding that it goes completely against the philosophy of the show. And now it's weird to you that it doesn't align with the show? Make it make sense.

This isn't asking for an Azula redemption arc (although "this fourteen-year-old who was acting under orders of a tyrannical fire lord can't be redeemed" seems incredibly harsh), this is just me wondering why the writers consistently, across mediums, refuse to suggest that she's even the slightest bit a product of her environment? But Zuko gets a pass for pretty much everything more or less? Alright then lol.

This is close to being the smartest thing you have said during this post. Unfortunately it is easy to notice that some of the creators just don't like Azula. That's it. That's the reason why. They don't like her and they don't want her to have a happy ending. So it's good that somebody else is riding this show now. Faith Erin Hicks, as we see from her comic, is not afraid to treat Azula as the victim she is, and is not afraid to lay the blame on the adults that failed her. As opposed to previous creators, she seems to be willing to apply the general philosophy of the show in Azula's character as well. Which is something she's able to do because Azula is not, in fact, inherently evil. She's a victim of abuse and a manipulated child that has done some very fucked up things but has all her life ahead of her to grow up and be better.

Give us a scene of Ozai molding her into the cruel person she is

Supporting and praising bad behavior is enabling it. A good parent would say "I understand that you were upset at feeling as though you were underestimated when you got efficient results, but it's important to keep your cool and respect your instructors since they have more experience than you. If you feel as though the inability of this instructor to stray from traditional paterns is holding you back, communicate that problem with me, and I'll find you a new teacher if it's necessary." Does Ozai do that? No. What does he do? Praise her. What will Azula do in response? Repeat the same behavior to receive praise again. What is that called? Nursing cruel/bad behavior.

Give us a scene of Azula being at least a normal child at some point.

Stealing sweets at a sleepover and recreating scenes from a movie/play with your sibling? I recall doing both those things as a child. We're talking about universal normal child experiences.

Don't vindicate her mother being cruel.

The narrative itself is not excusing Ursa. Azula herself goes to lengths to hold her accountable, actually. The only ones excusing Ursa's actions are Zuko, who's looking at her through rose colored glasses, because she's one of the first people to show him love, and he wants to sing the best of her, and the fandom, for the same exact reason.

Have Iroh say something slightly more insightful than "she's a crazy bitch leave her alone"

Personally, I don't value Iroh's opinion at all. I think he has to work through the issues that he obviously has with himself, instead of projecting those issues onto Azula, which is what he's doing. But since you care about his opinion so much, here's him saying Azula has the capability to find peace.

Here's an easy one: instead of smiling when Zuko got burnt, Azula looks visually horrified. That tiny, tiny change would've made her far more nuanced! It wouldn't be much, but not only would it make the fire lord's actions seem even worse, it shows us that deep down, she does--or at least, did--care! This is more in line with the show's themes and far more interesting than "she's just gonna be super evil hehe".

Here's the thing. Azula doesn't smile because she's just so "evil hehe". She's smiling because Zuko is receiving a just punishment for his actions. At least as far as she's concerned.

Think about it, in the Fire Nation they treat their King as a god. They pray/say an anthem/swear loyalty to the Firelord and the crown every single day. It should be needless to point out that nobody would question the actions of the Firelord. They would just assume that this is the correct course of action because this is what the Firelord is doing.

Azula not only is a subject of that Firelord but she is the daughter of her father. She was 11 when the Agni Kai. At that age, kids do not question their parents. The think things are right because the parents do it. If Dad is upset with Zuko, then Zuko must have done something wrong, because Dad can't be wrong, he's Dad, he's never wrong.

So both as his daughter and as his subject, Azula has been conditioned from the day she was born to think that he's always right. So when he decides to punish Zuko, that's just another instance where he's right. So why would Azula be upset with him for being right? Especially considering that if she were upset with him, it's possible that you would also receive a punishment for disagreeing with his methods.

So imagine you are Azula. You see your dad, who is always right, and is also your king, who is also always right do something. Anything. Do you think to yourself "Why would he do that? That's bad!" or do you think "He's right for doing what he does because he's always right."? She's under the impression that he's a just ruler and father, so why wouldn't she be satisfied at the sight of him rendering justice to the foolish subject that disobeyed? Especially when having a different opinion can result to being in danger?

Do we get anything from the answer to her personality being "bad egg"?

No, we don't. Which is why this isn't what they did. You just have a false idea of pretty much everything regarding Azula's character and how it was handled.

Thus proven.

#atla #azula #avatar the last airbender #asks #azula meta #azula analysis #character analysis #iroh critical #iroh #ursa #ursa critical #ozai #anti ozai #zuko #zuko critical #reddit #bad take #atla meta #anon

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