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comesatimecomesashadow · 2 months ago

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frayed synapses *ೃ༄

ׂ╰┈➤ . . . you're reading part ii.

pairing *ೃ༄ simon "ghost" riley / fem therapist reader

cw *ೃ༄ mentions of injury, depictions of social anxiety

summary *ೃ༄ with the burden of job-related stress weighing on your back, you decide to unwind at a local pub. yet instead of relaxation, you find out that your neighbor is none other than Simon RIley, a member of the military. after making the decision to clumsily ask him to have tea with you after an embarrassing first impression, you find that underneath Simon Riley's hardened, stone-cold façade, is a man who desperately seeks an end to the turmoil that plagues him.

note *ೃ༄ uploading this after sleep token's release of damocles obliterated me, enjoy ! ( comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist ! )

masterlist | series masterlist | prev . . next

You were never much of a sleeper.

Subtle blue rays of early sunlight peeked in through the blinds on the sliding doors near your bed. The mattress was comfortable but nothing could save you from the habit of rising at the crack of dawn. After staying in your bed with your eyes closed, waiting to get the motivation to fully wake up, you got up and trudged towards the balcony. The metal of the sliding doors felt icy, the mahogany floorboards felt even colder under the bare skin of your feet.

Despite this, the wind felt fresh on your face as soon as you stepped out onto the balcony and bathed in the rays of the rising sun. You stretched your arms over your head and let out a content sigh. London was full of tall buildings and while it wasn’t all lit up since it was still very early in the morning, the blue tinted scenery was still nice to look at. It was a Saturday today which meant you wouldn’t have work today, thankfully. Now that you remembered, your boss had asked you to take about two weeks off after what happened.

You should probably re-bandage your arm now that you’re thinking about it.

Anyway, you retreated inside your home and began your day. The water droplets that fell from the showerhead were more than soothing, despite that, it still stung when the water washed over the wound on your arm.

It was a stupid mistake to be blindsided by a client in that way, you should’ve known better; should’ve seen the signs.

With a heavy sigh, you made your way out of the shower and into the kitchen after getting dressed. You were going to make yourself a cup of coffee but decided instead to go to the local cafe down the street. After all, you had way more time on your hands than you knew to do with. With your keys in your pocket and your small box of toothpicks in your coat pocket, you ventured out of the door. As you locked it, your vision drifted to the door next to yours.

Your neighbor's door.

It suddenly hit you that you had made quite the impression the day before. “Should i..” you muttered to yourself, wondering if you should treat the man to a cup of coffee as a sort of apology for last night. As soon as the lock on your door clicked, you slowly walked up to his door. It felt rather intimidating but you’d already made your mind up — He’d probably end up declining anyway, you reasoned. Just as you were about to deliver a firm knock on his door, it swung open, making your hand freeze in mid-air.

You could see your neighbor’s creased eyebrows and the confused look in his eyes, the surgical mask he wore hid the rest of his face though. He was taller than he seemed last night, you guessed that maybe it was because you’d only seen him from afar that time. You stepped back from the front of the door, realizing that you’d somehow managed to make it awkward yet again. All these years and yet you still had problems with simple social interaction.

It almost made you feel pathetic. Almost.

“Good morning,” You began after clearing your throat, “-Uhm, I’m _____, I live next door. I know I probably caused you some trouble last night so.. I was wondering if you’d like to have a cup of coffee or tea — whatever you prefer — as an apology for last night?” A sheepish smile graced your lips as a silence settled between the two of you. You offered your hand for a handshake, which he returned after a few seconds. His hand was large ang calloused, definitely not the work of an office job.

The crease in between his eyebrows was gone, more relaxed from what you could tell — but he had yet to say a word. Finally, after what felt like a grueling pair of seconds, your neighbor spoke. “Simon. As for last night, you don’t need to do tha’.” His accent was thick, his response clipped.

“Are you sure?” You smiled, satisfied that you were right about him declining your offer. It was probably selfish of you but you weren’t prepared for the anxiety of going out today anyway. On top of that, what if you ended up being awkward as hell — as you usually were — in front of him? He’d probably think you were weird and then you’d never be able to show your face again.

He seemed to be considering your offer for a moment — which frankly made you a tad nervous because what if he accepted your offer? A sigh came from his lips before he replied, “I’m busy today. Wha’ about this Friday?”

Your heart stopped.

If you said ‘no’ it’d make it complicated and you’d probably look like an ass for it, but if you said ‘yes’ you’d have the displeasure of not knowing what to say to him or even how to start a conversation with him. . . The anxiety was eating you alive in those three mere seconds. “Sure. What time?” The words were rushed, you were surprised you didn’t trip over your own tongue. You tended to do that when your mind ran faster than your mouth could keep up with.

“Does 2pm work for you?”

“Yeah.” you answered with a slow nod. “That would be great.”

With that, Simon gave you a curt nod. You bid him farewell and continued on your way to the local cafe, the memory of the interaction replaying in your mind at least a hundred times until you entered the warm ambience of the cafe. The glossy floorboards and aroma of coffee beans in the air brought you a sense of comfort — which you needed after that awkward interaction. You already had a toothpick in your mouth by the time it was your turn to order.

“The usual caramel latte, Miss ______?”

“What?” You looked at the young man confusedly, as if he’d grown two heads.

The young man at the register, his name-tag read ‘Eliah’, only chuckled and offered a smile to you. “Sorry, it’s just- you always order the same thing. Sorry if that was weird..” he sheepishly apologized. Did you make him feel like that? Oh lord.

You shook your head, “Oh, it’s not weird at all, don’t worry. I was just lost in thought so it caught me off guard.”

“So.. A Caramel Latte?” Eliah smirked. Your social nervousness seemed to amuse him, not that you cared all that much. It was just something embarrassing you couldn’t fix about yourself. No amount of trying in your thirty-five years of life would fix that.

“Yeah, please.” you dug into your pocket and slipped your debit card from your wallet, fidgeting with it before swiping it through the card reader and punching in your pin number. It was only the start of the day and yet you already felt drained. Human interaction shouldn’t be this stressful — or troublesome, as you like to call it. It was almost ironic since your expertise involved reading people and analyzing them through their behavior.

But you digress.

As you went to sit at your usual table near the window, you pulled up the calendar app on your phone and made a reminder for this coming Friday. As you sat there waiting for your coffee, the interaction played in your head like a movie. Simon was a tall and built man; he was also dressed in active wear when he had opened the door. You concluded that he liked to stay fit — as most men do. The mask made you come up with the notion that he was either sick or he was hiding his face — the lower part anyway.

You relentlessly searched for anything that would give you something to talk about when you met him this Friday. If you just sat with him in silence, you swore you were going to feel like crawling into a hole and never coming out. The anxiety alone would eat you alive. You had the ability to make it seem like you were calm when you were freaking out underneath the surface — it didn’t make your social anxiety go away but it sure as hell lessened the added stress of making a situation awkward when you acted like you had no anxiety at all.

Your thoughts drifted from your neighbor to the new bandages around your arm. It would probably take about two to three weeks for it to heal properly, it still had stitches which helped but didn’t keep it from hurting. The injury would probably leave a scar. The only good thing was that it would also serve as a reminder to never underestimate the creativity of a criminal — especially one with an antisocial personality disorder.

“Caramel Latte for .. _____?”

Your train of thought derailed as soon as your name was called. You retrieved your coffee from the counter and thanked the barista before leaving.

Work was off the table these next two weeks but you had an inkling that it would still be an eventful couple of days.

taglist *ೃ༄ . . . @dwkfan . . @savannahsomething . . @thatghostlykid . .

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #jume fic #jume fics #frayed synapses #simon ghost riley cod #cod x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon cod x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost cod fluff #ghost cod #simon riley fluff

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skzartemis · 6 months ago

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𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒹 𝒟𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂

Pairing: Bang Chan x GN!reader Genre: Fantasy, romance, hurt/comfort, Idol!Chan x Fan!Reader Warning: Mention of Insomnia, stress and emotional vulnerability

Recently I have gotten a problem with falling asleep. I have tried many methods but it didn't work. I ended up going to the doctor seeking medical help, he said that i am probably stressed out but still give me sleeping pills to improve my sleeping condition. That night, i was having trouble falling asleep again, i took the sleeping pills that the doctor prescribed me while playing songs in the background. I was slowly drifting off to sleep and somehow I was in this room and there was a guy standing in front of me, I walked towards his direction and patted him on his back.

"Hello? Who are you and do you know where we are?"

The guy turns around in confusion and I recognise him immediately. Bang Chan from Stray Kids

"Oh hey! I am Chan! Or you can call me Chris!" Chan smiles brightly "I have no idea where we are too... i think i fell asleep after taking some sleeping pills and then i somehow appear here too"

"My name is Y/N and i also took some sleeping pills my doctor prescribed me and somehow ended up in this place"

"You have insomnia too?" Chan asked politely

"Yea... the doctor said I was too stressed out..." I chuckle weakly

"Ah~ I am guessing that you still haven't finished your studies?"

"I am currently in my first year of university... it's not as stressful as college but i guess i didn't rest properly during college years so it causes problems afterwards..."

"Oh... i umm-" Chan looks like he was trying to stay something but was debating should he say it or not. so i interrupted him

"You are an idol right? Bang Chan from Stray Kids."

He chuckles weakly "Yea... I guessed I was so famous that some girl I met in my dream knew me too..."

"Don't worry! I am not those crazy saesangs that are trying to bother you! We are not even in the same country!" I quickly shake my head defensively, trying to prove innocence.

"Ah~ I see. You don't mind if I ask you more about yourself?"

"It's just a dream and it wouldn't hurt talking in a dream right? It's not like he will stalk me" i thought

"Of course not! what do you want to know since i know a bit about you already..."

"Where do you live?"

"I live in Australia. Are you still in Korea right now?"

We talked for hours and hours until one of us woke up, it's probably me because I was still talking to Chan when suddenly a ray of sunlight peek through the curtain, waking me up. I blink repeatedly for several times, trying to adjust to the surroundings and the lighting.

The sunlight streaming through the curtains was warm on my face, pulling me back to reality. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. The dream still lingered vividly in my mind, almost as if it weren't a dream at all. I reached for my phone on the bedside table, the clock reading 6:43 a.m. Too early, yet I felt wide awake.

I couldn't shake the feeling that my conversation with Chan had been… real. It didn't have the usual fuzzy edges of a dream. Every word, every expression, even the warmth in his voice had felt genuine.

“Just a coincidence," I muttered to myself, brushing off the lingering unease. “Dreams are weird like that.”

Still, curiosity gnawed at me. I opened Spotify and played some Stray Kids songs while getting ready for the day. Hearing his voice brought back flashes of the dream—the room, his smile, the way he said my name like he’d known me for years.

The day dragged on. University classes felt longer than usual, and every time I caught a moment to myself, my thoughts drifted back to the dream. By the time I got home, I was exhausted. I debated skipping dinner altogether but decided against it. Eating might help me sleep better tonight.

That evening, I hesitated before taking the sleeping pill the doctor prescribed. I stared at the little white tablet in my palm, the events of last night replaying in my head. Shaking my head at myself for overthinking, I swallowed the pill with a sip of water and climbed into bed. I played soft music in the background again, hoping it would help me drift off faster.

This time, the dream came almost instantly.

I was back in the same room. It looked exactly as I remembered. And standing there, just as before, was Bang Chan.

“Y/N?” he said, his eyes widening when he saw me. “You're here again?”

“Wait… you remember me?” My voice came out shaky, disbelief flooding my system.

“Of course I do,” he said, a look of concern crossing his face. “I thought it was just a one-time thing, but here we are again. I don't know what's going on, but…” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “This doesn't feel like a normal dream, does it?”

I shook my head. “Not at all. Dreams aren't supposed to be this clear. Or… consistent.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I even tried to convince myself I imagined you last night, but now… I'm starting to think this place is real. Or at least some kind of shared dream.”

“Shared dream?” I repeated, my mind racing. “But how? Why would we…?”

“I don't know,” he admitted, his voice soft. “But maybe we’re here for a reason.” We stared at each other, the weight of his words settling between us. A reason. What could possibly connect me, an exhausted first-year university student, and him, an idol on the other side of the world?

“Have you ever experienced something like this before?” I asked.

Chan shook his head. “No, never. But I'll admit… I've been struggling to sleep lately too. The schedules, the pressure, it gets overwhelming sometimes.” He paused, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe the universe decided we both needed someone to talk to.”

I chuckled nervously. “Well, the universe has a weird sense of humor. Of all people, it paired me with a K-pop idol?”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Guess you’re stuck with me for now.” We sat down—or at least, we mimicked sitting on the nonexistent floor—and started talking again. This time, it felt even more natural, like catching up with an old friend. He shared stories about the struggles of being a leader, the sacrifices he’d made for his career, and the moments that made it all worth it. I told him about my family, my dreams of becoming a dancer, and the crippling fear of failing to live up to everyone's expectations.

Time passed differently here. Hours could've gone by, or maybe just minutes—it was impossible to tell. But eventually, Chan leaned back and sighed.

“I don't want to wake up,” he admitted. “This is… nice. Peaceful.”

“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “But we'll have to wake up eventually.” He looked at me, something unreadable in his expression. “Promise me something?”

“What?”

“If this is real—if we ever figure out what's happening—promise me we’ll meet in real life.”

I blinked, taken aback. “You'd want that?”

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “You're easy to talk to. And… I feel like we're meant to cross paths. Don't you?”

I hesitated but nodded. “Yeah. I think so too.”

Before I could say anything else, the familiar pull of waking up began. The edges of the dream blurred, and Chan's voice became distant.

“Until next time,” he called out, his voice echoing as the dream dissolved.

I woke up with a start, my heart racing. The sunlight poured through my window, the same as yesterday. But this time, I wasn't confused or disoriented.

This time, I smiled.

There will be a next time. I was sure of it.

Every night, I would take sleeping pills and go back to the same room, talking to chan every time, it felt so real but at the same time i knew it was a dream. Somehow, Chan slowly cured my insomnia, I stopped having the need to take sleeping pills in order to sleep. Until one night, i stopped going to the same room, i stopped seeing chan in my dreams. It was disappointing and hurting to know I couldn't talk to him anymore, even in another dimension. But when i was scrolling through chan's instagram posts, i saw his latest post was a picture of him in the office with the caption- "Dreams" and the usual stay hashtag, i quickly commented under the post saying "Lucid dreams?"

The notification chimed almost immediately after I posted the comment: 3,245 other users also commented. My heart sank. Of course, with millions of fans commenting on every post, my little comment—“Lucid dreams?”—would be swallowed up in the sea of STAYs.

Still, I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. What if… what if he saw it? What if he somehow recognized me, even through a simple question? The thought was absurd, but I clung to it. I refreshed the post again and again, hoping for some sign—a like, a reply, anything. Hours passed, and nothing happened. I sighed, tossing my phone onto the bed. It was silly to expect anything. It had been weeks since the dreams stopped. Maybe it was time to let go. But letting go wasn't as easy as I thought. Every night, I lay in bed, hoping to see him again, to return to that strange, serene room where time stood still, and the world outside didn’t matter. Every morning, I woke up to disappointment.

Until one evening, something strange happened.

It was a typical, uneventful day. Classes, assignments, dinner—everything blurred together in a monotonous haze. I didn’t even feel particularly tired when I climbed into bed that night. No sleeping pills, no music. Just me and the quiet hum of the world outside my window.

As my eyelids grew heavy, I felt it—that familiar pull, like being gently tugged into a dream.

My heart raced. Was it happening again?

When I opened my eyes, I was back in the room.

The sight hit me like a wave of nostalgia. The walls, the faint glow of light from nowhere, the soft hum of silence—it was exactly as I remembered.

And then I saw him.

“Chan!” I called out, my voice trembling with a mix of relief and disbelief.

He turned around, his face lighting up as soon as he saw me. “Y/N!”

I ran to him, barely resisting the urge to throw my arms around him. “You're here,” I said breathlessly.

“I thought I'd never see you again.”

He smiled, a bit sadly. “I thought the same. It's been… strange, hasn't it?”

“Strange doesn't even begin to cover it,” I admitted, laughing weakly. “Why did it stop? Why now?”

Chan hesitated, looking down at his hands. “I don't know. But I think…” He looked up, his gaze locking with mine. “I think I needed to figure some things out. And maybe… you did too.”

I frowned. “Figure out what?”

“That sometimes, even in a dream, we can find what we need to move forward.” He paused, his expression softening. “I know it hurts when the dreams stop, but I think it was the universe telling us to keep going on our own for a bit. To prove we could.”

His words sank in slowly, each one hitting me with an ache I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.

“I missed you,�� I admitted quietly.

“I missed you too,” he said, his voice low. “Every single night.”

We sat down, just like we always did, and talked for what felt like hours. He told me about the new songs he was working on, how he'd been channeling his thoughts and emotions into his music. I shared how I'd finally started finding joy in my dance classes again, even teaching a few younger students.

It felt like no time had passed at all, and yet, everything was different. As the dream began to fade, Chan reached out, taking my hand in his. “Before you go, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I saw your comment,” he said, his smile soft but knowing.

My heart stopped. “You… you did?”

He nodded. “I didn't reply because… I didn't know if it was really you. But I felt it. I knew it was. And I think… Maybe this isn’t the end. Maybe we're supposed to meet in the real world.” I could barely breathe. “How?”

“Keep dancing,” he said, his voice steady. “Keep following your dreams. And I'll keep making music. If we're meant to meet, it'll happen.”

The dream dissolved before I could say another word.

I woke up to the sound of my alarm, the faint traces of his voice still lingering in my ears. This time, I didn't feel the crushing sadness of his absence.

Instead, I felt hope.

Weeks turned into months, and life went on. I threw myself into my studies and dancing, finding comfort in the rhythm of my routines. But I never stopped thinking about Chan, about his words, about the possibility that our paths might cross again.

And then, one day, it happened.

I had just finished performing at a small dance showcase in Sydney. It was nothing big—just a local event—but I was proud of myself for putting my heart into it. As I was packing up my things, a commotion near the entrance caught my attention.

When I turned around, my heart nearly stopped.

There he was. Bang Chan, standing in the doorway, wearing a casual hoodie and cap, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, the world around us fading into nothing.

Then he smiled, the same warm, genuine smile I’d seen so many times in my dreams.

“Told you we'd meet,” he said softly, his voice carrying across the room.

And just like that, everything fell into place.

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #bang chan imagines #skz bang chan #christopher bang #chris bang #channie

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chronicoverthinker · 1 year ago

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I think nobody pointed it out yet but in yesterday’s chapter we can see that “Hikaru” was reading some interesting books. Two of them were “the little mermaid” and “Frankenstein”

Now of course we all know that in the little mermaid , she wishes to become a human to be with the man she loves. In the Disney version she is able to live the rest of her life happily ever after WHILE in the original tale the little mermaid ends up turning into sea foam because her love isn’t corresponded.

I know you guys could say “but wait , how do we know we should take into consideration the original version of the tale?” And the answers is because of the second story.

Frankenstein seems to perfectly parallel what’s been going on in the story so far and let me tell you , that is not good.

In the story a doctor is able to sew together parts of dead bodies to bring it back to life, much like the great brainsnatcher was able to put back Hikaru’s body after his fatal fall and bring it back to life.

The monster is actually a very gentle creature , much like “Hikaru” seems to see the world with childlike wonder and innocence , but at the same time both of them get shunned away for different reason.

The monster doesn’t understand that it’s appearance is frightful to humans , and once it tries to mix in with them they run away terrified. While with “Hikaru” he’s unable to understand the concept of human life and this doing actions that scare others (Yoshiki) even tho his intentions are somehow good (to carry out Hikaru’s dying wish of protecting Yoshiki and making him happy in his place)

The problem is that the monster from the original story , with no love left for humanity , asks to his creator one last wish before completely departing to live in solitude (much like “Hikaru” keeps talking about how he should go back to the mountain). He asks for the doctor to make him a female counterpart , a lover , to share his life with. And doesn’t that sound just like what both Yoshiki and “Hikaru” have been saying? With “Hikaru” purposely reminding the viewer that even if he doesn’t express it , Yoshiki is his. He belongs to him , and as long as he doesn’t have to give up this borrowed humanity of his then he won’t have to bring him back to the mountain with him.

While Yoshiki is ready to give up his everything if it means that “Hikaru” can find a place to live as he pleases.

We could also add in the fact that in the manga it’s been said many times that Yoshiki is mixed with “Hikaru”, starting to become the same as him.

In the story the monster’s counterpart gets killed by the doctor himself , thus making the monster decide to seek revenge by hunting its creator. The story ends with the monster killing it’s creator and then committing suicide.

Let me know what you think cuties 😘

#the summer hikaru died #hikaru ga shinda natsu #hgsn #yoshiki my son fr #it’s not looking good #we’re actually done for #toxic yaoi at its finest I fear 😔

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kiwiwinjindouche · 1 year ago

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Nightmares From the Void: a horror Dishonored AU

(unless this title is already taken by something else or idk sfwjdwmfjdj i've not found anything? but let me know if it does)

I've talked about it a little some time ago, and even if I have to figure out more things (this is really getting out of hands), I have some bits to share!

Putting all this under a 'read more' cuz this is going to be a huge post.

I'd love to have your thoughts about it, if you feel like it!! <3

Quick description:

This may be a Horror!AU, but it’s definitely not just “OOOO JUMPSCARES AND GORE”. Horror isn’t just that, you know? And the best part about this is looking for references and more information because this is so interesting and so much better than just blood and viscera everywhere. I really wanted them to have their own little vibe, despite everything, and playing with the different kinds of horrors and fears. This all needs a bit more thinking yet, I’m sure, but I really like it so far.

There’re uh, changes, and maybe I’m thinking this too much like a third person game? I don’t know, maybe in first person it’d still look great.

This is just about Dishonored 2 (for now, at least?), and I mostly though about the main villains, to be honest. But as time goes by (and as I’m writing this post), I want to explore the other areas too.

I find some of the ideas a bit too obvious, somehow, but eeehhh :fingerguns: My mindset was kinda 'how could we go further, and into the horror genre, than this?"

After the ritual to bring back Delilah, in 1849, powers from the Void started to spread into Aramis’ mansion, crawling into the veins of those who were here. They slowly turned them into more monstrous versions of themselves. The closer to the ritual you were, the bigger the impact the Void had on you. Some of the guards got infected as well, but way less than the main crew. Memories of alternative lives flashed through them too.

Differences for the coup crew:

Mission 1: A Long Day in Dunwall

Enemies: /

Description: Something feels off, as a puppet-ish Luca arrives. Then, Delilah appears, and the crowd is horrified by her look and all the vines and flowers.

Additional notes: Delilah can flee with Alexi’s corpse, so the player must fight her later as an undead.

Boss battle: Ramsey is not affected by the Void, so nothing changes.

Mission 3: The Good Doctor

Type of horror: Kind of slasher, ‘virus’, body horror

Enemies: The guards are infected with bloodflies and mushrooms (? Virus?). They technically are undead and immortal, but weak. They can be killed for good with fire. Guards + Bloodflies.

Description: The player tries to escape Grim Alex’s grip. They can carry a torch to keep her away.

Additional notes: There are a torch, blueprints and upgrades regarding fire equipment in Vasco’s belongings.

Boss battle: First, the player must find the main nest of the bloodflies and burn it. Grim Alex follows the player, and she can control the bloodflies. If the player tries to kill her, her body gets infested with bloodflies and she charges back. She is afraid of fire. Her fight only has one phase, and the player either helps her with the serum or kills her for good.

Why this? Because Alexandria is already kind of infected by something, and I think she should be a bit more unhinged when you face her. I decided to go with a wendigo/rake vibe for her. She follows you everywhere you go, and you can’t really get rid of her if you don’t have fire. Everything feels more organic yet dead at the same time. There should be a spark of hope somewhere, though.

Inspirations: RE / TLOU / Redead / Scorn / Outlast / Bloodborne

Mission 4: The Clockwork Mansion

Type of horror: Psychological

Enemies: Cyborgs and clockworks. The guards are a bit weaker than the original soldiers, but they can share some capabilities. Guards + Clockworks.

Description: A kind of Hide and Seek in the mansion. The player gets knock out at the beginning and must find their stuff.

Additional notes: Sokolov is saved after the fight. They are eyes on the wall.

Boss battle: The player fights Kirin in his laboratory. He is waiting for them and jumps on his greatest clockwork (a huge one). First, the player fights the robot. Phase two, the fight is taking place beneath the laboratory, in the basement, room of the generator. The player can tear Kirin’s artificial arms/legs apart. The final move is pushing him against the generator and watching him getting electroshocked. Either it kills him or not is up to the player, depending on the power of the shock (player can get to the room before the battle).

Why this? I was thinking about more clockworks and mechanical things. In fact, the starting point of all this was for Kirin to build cyborgs too. Then, the idea of him having bugs features came to me, as a reference to him tearing their legs and such. But then, and as much as I wanted to avoid the spider thing, Kirin playing with you, as you try to escape his mansion (his web) sounded more fitting.

Inspirations: Lies of P / Shining / Bacterial Contamination / BG3 (Malus) / Mimic / Nosk / DrOctopus

Mission 5: The Royal Conservatory

Type of horror: Paranormal and jump scares

Enemies: Zombies and stuffed animals. The guards are slower but hit harder. Guards + Witches + Animals.

Description:

Additional notes: Lots of illusions. Aggressive skulls. Moving around through mirrors.

Boss battle: The player has the option to fight a big cursed plush to get the defective lens. With each hit the doll takes, it loses a member part (leg, arm…) and the player must destroy them too before they go back to the doll. Then, mirror labyrinth to get to Breanna, while the player is followed by zombies. Breanna’s fight takes place in a room surrounded by mirrors too. If the player goes behind the scenes before phase two, they can use the defective lens and remove Breanna’s powers, leading them to the non-lethal ending. Phase two, she is mostly stronger than before, but also helped by the doll if the player didn’t destroy it earlier.

Why this? I had the idea of zombies for Breanna for a long time. Again, just thinking about “how could we go further?” But zombies weren’t enough. And then I thought ‘well, there’re also a ton of dead animals there’. I also wanted to find something revolving around the lenses, or rather, glasses, hence the mirrors, and the illusions. As for the cursed plush, we already know witches have some voodoo plushies they use from time to time, so I thought it was a good reference to this too.

Inspirations: Twilight Princess (Blizzeta) / Collector (Hollow Knight)

Mission 7: A Crack in the Slab

Type of horror: Liminal spaces and gothic horror

Enemies: Ghosts. The guards don’t attack the player unless player attacks them first. They have 1 hp and respawn at each time switch. Guards.

Description: The player travels through Aramis’ mind. They must find all the broken memory pieces to restore Aramis’ health and spirit. The player starts with a 45 minutes chrono. After 15 minutes, the level starts to fall apart. The player can use clocks and hourglasses to slow or speed time.

Additional notes: The level falls apart, much like Aramis’ mind. Clocks, hourglasses. Maybe some enigmas. The player still can’t use their powers.

Boss battle: Race against time. The player must travel through past and present to stop the boss – who is TBD still (a strange chimera? And echo of Luca?). To help Aramis fully recover, the player must defeat it. Else, they can either decide to kill him or let him stay insane.

Why this? What better than liminal spaces and fear of the nothing for Aramis? His mind is falling apart, and so is the level. You must be a bit quick into this labyrinth. As I’m writing this, this needs some more thinking, but maybe thanks to a new power (or simply, a better ‘Possession’) you can go to Aramis’ mind instead of just wondering around his mansion. The idea stays the same, but still.

Inspirations: Backrooms / Crys Tales / Poes

Mission 8: The Grand Palace

Type of horror: Survival…?

Enemies: Puppets. The guards are more agile, dodge more the attacks. Guards.

Description:

Additional notes: Show off. The player must repair the false duke and the pieces are all around the palace. Inspired by the royalty and the Game. Some puppets and guards wear masks. There are music boxes in the palace (around the ballroom). Puppet and some bits of flesh.

Boss battle: Luca waits for the player in his ballroom, where they find multiple false dukes dancing with the ‘guests’. They must find the right one and defeat him. They can also be helped by a dysfunctional puppet they must repair first – Armando. Then, Luca twisted and turns into a giant puppet with wacky movements.

Why this? So, this might be the less ‘horror’ one, somehow. Depends on if you are fine with getting surrounded by puppets or not. But why puppets? Because Luca longs for control. He is creating himself a perfect little world where everyone will obey him. And yet, he is one of them, because Delilah is already using him. I had in mind a ballroom, more excessive and unnecessary shows off. He is rich, he is powerful, he doesn’t care about the others.

Inspirations: Little Nightmares / Steelrising (ambient) / Skull kid puppets / Nutcracker

Mission 9: Death to the Empress

Type of horror: Analog horror and strange imagery, a bit of dark fantasy but tiny bit

Enemies: A bit of everything and living paintings. The guards are moving when the player is not watching. The paintings can catch and block the player, attack them or simply scare them. Guards + Witches + Clockworks + Paintings.

Description:

Additional notes:

Boss battle: First, the player fights her outside, but there are other living paintings that attack them. Every weakness moment of Delilah, the player can reunite her with her soul. Then, she runs into her perfect world, the player shall follow her, but instead they find a crying Jessamine. They have a small chat together, until the player realizes it’s Delilah using her powers to stab where it hurts. The player then fights Delilah, but with Jessamine’s appearance. Lastly, Delilah charges a final blow, and statues are attacking the player. They must survive a certain amount of time. Then, the final blow explodes and both her and the player are thrown out of the painting. The player wakes up before she does, and either they decide to kill her or not by messing with the ritual.

Why this? Well, I know analog horror is also about found footage and doesn’t suit Dishonored, but the weird imagery looks just fine for a painter. Also, what about moving statues? Surely this is not new, and not all of them would move obviously.

Inspirations: Mandela Catalogue / A Hat in Time / Layers of fear / Canvas Curse (Drawcia)

And that's ... almost it? Wait, could this be... what's up there???

Epilogue: Secret Meeting

Type of horror: Cosmic horror

Description: If the player found all the runes and bonecharms throughout the game, after the credits they appear in the Void. The Outsider comes to them to talk about their run, their choices, and asks them if they wish to see his true form. Then, the player can decide to fight him.

Why this? Because I wanted to add cosmic horror to the list! And the Outsider is already kind of that, the Void is a space beyond true comprehension and such. I still have to figure out his ‘true form’ as a powerful being.

Inspirations: Lovecraft

AND NOW, that's about it so far! As you can see, some things still need a good thinking and such, to be worked on. I've also started to think about a playlist, but I'm not sure about it yet and this is going to be for later. There'll definitely be more to it, I just don't know when lol.

THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU'VE READ IT ALL, it means a lot!!!! 💗💗💗

#dishonored 2 #dagyne_scribbles #dagyne_rambles #horror!au #nightmares from the void #alexandria hypatia #kirin jindosh #breanna ashworth #aramis stilton #luca abele #delilah copperspoon #tw body horror #featured

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danganronpa-21 · 1 year ago

Text

Rating: Mature Audiences

General Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sex

Fandoms: Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak Academy

Relationships: Makoto Naegi/Kyoko Kirigiri

Additional Tags: Post-Danganronpa 3: Hope Arc, Embarrassing Moments, Making Out, Teasing & Flirting, Kyoko Kirigiri being a lil sass pot, Just a heads up that this is a little saucier than what I usually write but it’s still pretty tame

Word Count: 4,075 words

Story Summary: Kyoko decides to take advantage of her boyfriend's free time at work. Byakuya, unfortunately, gets caught in the cross fire of this incident.

[Read it on AO3.]

Kyoko has a keen awareness of her boyfriend’s current… free time.

Well, if you asked him, he would tell you that the time wasn’t really all that free. Just because he wasn’t in a meeting or handling student issues didn’t mean that he had all the time in the world. There was still plenty to do as the headmaster of a school like Hope’s Peak, one that had a myriad of talented but trouble-seeking students. Somehow, even with the end of the Tragedy and the abolishment of the Reserve Course/Main Course system, that little thing never seemed to change. She knows Makoto doesn’t mind it. He never would. After all, the kids who attend Hope’s Peak now probably had to grow up much faster than they should have because of what they had seen. The least he could do was let them be creative, wild, and fun – even if that ultimately was more paperwork for him.

Paperwork. That was usually his something, the thing that would make him insist that he had no free time – not even for his beautiful, beloved girlfriend.

It isn’t as if Kyoko is utterly deprived by her boyfriend, nor does she have an appetite for him so insatiable that she just never seems to have had enough of him. No, neither of those things are the problem. It’s just that, for whatever reason, the danger of wanting to be with him here at work is so much more. She likes that even the casual showing of affection between the two of them is forbidden. She’s never been so scandalous as to go past anything but a kiss, but even that, she is not permitted to take. Both she and her boyfriend are responsible for engaging in the utmost professionalism while Hope’s Peak is in their care, and while Kyoko completely understands why, she finds that it doesn’t stop her from this wanting.

The fact that she cannot control the wanting, no matter how hard she may try, is why she is headed to Makoto’s office now.

Improper it may be, but sometimes, a woman just needs to kiss her boyfriend and not care who is watching.

This is the thought she keeps in mind as she struts towards her boyfriend’s office. What can she say? She loves the thrill. Life has become so quaint since they opened Hope’s Peak, and although she won’t take it for granted given everything they’ve been through… She can’t help but want to add a bit of zest to their lives. Nothing that will hurt, but just… something that will make both their hearts beat a little faster. The thought almost makes her giggle like a meek schoolgirl.

The halls of Hope’s Peak are eerily quiet, save for the sound of her high-heeled boots clacking against the tiled floors and the faint voices of teachers instructing their students just beyond the hallway’s walls. The school is not yet populous enough to be filled with a great deal of noise, but there is some, and Kyoko cannot help but enjoy what she can hear as she makes her way down the hall. The students may in theory be keeping her from her boyfriend, but the joy of them having a future is enough to make her forgive them for that. Besides, it’s not like at this point she is open to being deterred from what she wants.

Her walk down the hallway is quick and simple, not interfered with. Perhaps it’s her intimidating gaze or the strength of her gait, but even those who do cross her path don’t seem particularly interested in stopping her for a conversation or even sparing her a glance of acknowledgement. Their heads dip down and they just keep walking, and for a moment, she wonders if they think she must be on her way to scold the headmaster for something. Though he is higher up in the scholastic food chain by a mile, given that she is only part-timing to focus on detective work, the students all seem to get the impression that she completely dominates him. It’s not something she is unused to people assuming, mind you, considering her serious personality and his gentle, cheerful one. Every once in a while, she even hears rumours that it’s truly she who is calling the shots, and Makoto is just the nice man making everything happen.

If only they knew that I call the shots behind closed doors, too, she thinks with a smirk.

She tries not to let her amusement show too greatly as she makes her way down the hall. That would surely ruin her strict, serious image. Besides, to capture Makoto at his best moment, she has to have a particular demeanour about it – anything else would tamper with her plans. She keeps her face straight and her eyes locked forward, marching confidently towards her mission. As she comes upon the doors to the Headmaster’s Office, she finds that she doesn’t even bother knocking before prying them open. As soon as she can see through even the slightest crack, she catches a glimpse of Makoto and notices how he immediately perks up. How cute. His face only seems to light up in further interest when he realizes who it is coming to keep him company. She has to fight not to giggle as she slips into the room with ease, closing the door tightly behind her. Nobody needs to know that she is disturbing the headmaster’s peace. This little moment, it can stay private between the two of them.

“Kyoko?” Makoto says, staring at her from across the way with this innocently curious expression on his face that honestly kind of makes her heart melt. Once upon a time, it would have horrified her to turn into pudding over a man, but now, she’s a little more comfortable embracing her affections. After all, Makoto isn’t just any man. “I’m surprised to see you here. Is everything okay?”

It’s all Kyoko can do to keep a neutral face when she stops dead, staring him right in the eyes. “Take off your clothes.”

Makoto’s flesh turns fifteen different shades of crimson in a matter of four seconds. That has to be some kind of world record, she thinks amusedly to herself.

“W-What?!” He sputters, slack-jawed, unable to believe what his partner has just said to him.

There might have been more, had she the self-control to keep it going, but the sight of his rose-red face is too funny to bear. She can’t help but snicker at the sight, her lips cracking into a warm smile. Makoto is just so much fun to tease – and, thankfully, he’s a good sport about it, too. As soon as he realizes that she’s played a joke on him, he starts laughing along, too. The relief on his face is instant as he wipes his brow with the back of his arm.

“You’re… rotten, Kyoko Kirigiri,” he half-snickers, dropping his pen on the desk, “You really had me there.”

“I’m sorry,” she replies, not sounding nor feeling sorry at all, “I couldn’t help myself. You really are an open book.”

Makoto shrugs, leaning forward on the desk. His face is still pinkish in places, but the embarrassment is fading, and even with that in place, he is still unbearably charming to her. He’s adorable when he’s flustered, but still so sweet on the eyes in his natural state, too. How is she supposed to maintain a professional decorum around this man when he’s just so delightful to be around?

It sounds silly, she supposes, when you put it like that – but it’s just the truth, as far as she’s concerned. She feels like a smitten schoolgirl somedays. It’s embarrassing and electrifying all at the same time.

Makoto seems to only shake his head at her teasing, heaving a sigh as if to ask what he’s going to do with her. It is not the first time the two of them have gone on like this, not by a long shot, and Kyoko can’t help but love how familiar it all feels. Their relationship is still young, but it makes it feel like they’ve been together for years.

“Is there a reason you want to come see me, Kirigiri-san?”

Kyoko raises her eyebrows in mock-surprise. “Kirigiri-san?” she parrots, folding her arms across her chest. Just a minute ago it was the much more familiar Kyoko, and now…? Oh, he can try and make this business-like all he pleases, but she came here on a much different kind of business. Makoto must notice the hint of coyness in her voice, because his smile begins to melt and turn a bit sheepish.

“W-Well, it’s… this is a school, and nobody really knows about us yet,” he laughs, “If anyone heard us acting too close, they might get the wrong idea.”

She quirks a brow. “And who do you think is eavesdropping on us?” she looks around the room, a small part of her – a more paranoid part – almost wondering if he has a point. Cameras loved them once. Who's to say that they wouldn’t again? “There is no one here but us. The things that go on behind closed doors are our business.”

Feeling her heart skip a beat, she takes this opportunity to move closer to her partner. Her walk is meant to be sultry as she struts to his side, but her lacking experience in the area of seduction just makes her feel a bit stupid. Thankfully, she is Makoto’s only experience with a woman intending to pursue him, so he turns into a bit of a puddle for her anyway. His face warms as she approaches, and when she places a hand on the back of his office chair, leaning over him so her long lavender hair hangs down over top of him, she can actually hear his breath hitch. She loves it. His eyes are clouded with a mixture of excitement and worry, and she knows that he must get butterflies in his stomach when she opens her mouth to speak once more.

“There is no one here but you and I, Makoto. This free time that you have, it’s just for us.”

Makoto actually gulps. She swears she sees his eyes flick to the door briefly, like he’s worried that someone is going to barge in. “F-For us?”

She nods. “You’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I never see you.” she struts herself right in front of him, and for a moment, she contemplates plopping herself right down on his lap… but something about that just feels a bit too scandalous. She opts to hop right up on his desk instead, not really thinking about the fact that that might not be much better. She tilts her head teasingly at him. “Surely you can make some time for your significant other, can’t you?”

The sweat must be beading on Makoto’s skin now. He pushes himself to his feet, although he doesn’t seem exactly sure why he does it. For a moment, just a flicker of a moment, it looks as if he might want to protest – push her away, remind her that she’s supposed to be the more responsible one of the two of them – but it dies. Instead, his eyes can do nothing but fall to her lips, looking dazed and confused.

“I… I thought…?”

“You thought what?”

“You’re not, like, propositioning me right now, right?”

“For what?”

“For…” his face reddens again. “I thought we talked about not being ready for that right now.”

Kyoko scrunches up her nose, almost as if disgusted by the prospect. “I’m not propositioning you for that, no.”

The worry fades just a bit, and she notices him start to nibble on his lip ever so slightly. He doesn’t know what’s going to come out of her mouth next – she can tell. She wonders if he’s enjoying the uncertainty. “B-But for something, yeah?”

She sighs and shakes her head, gesturing him over to her. “Just hold your tongue for a minute and kiss me.”

Makoto’s eyes widen for a second, processing the information. The moment he does, however, he follows her instructions with ease. Rushing over, he is now just about at her level, his hand slipping along the underside of her jaw, tilting her head towards him a bit for better access to her lips. She tips her head up a bit to help, and tries not to smile to herself at how grateful he seems for the assistance. Makoto is a pleasant but inexperienced kisser. He likes to try extra hard to make his kisses good.

When he connects their lips, she’s almost surprised by how warm they are. In the midst of a chilly winter, the presence of his warmth is more than a little welcome. It pairs well with the taste – caramel and espresso, perhaps even a hint of whipped cream, although she recognizes that she could be imagining that part. Makoto is the only man she’s met who is so comfortable with ordering a caramel macchiato, but tasting it here on his lips, she finds she can understand what he’s talking about when he says it truly is the best coffee drink. Sweet, and warm… just like him. Soft, too. Soft like his smile, soft like his heart, are his lips. She used to think boys would have unkempt lips, cracked and unpleasant… but Makoto’s were always soft to the point of being almost silken. At times, kissing him felt so perfect that it was almost like it was unreal. Why else would she put herself at the mercy of being caught if she didn’t love it this much?

Her heart swells with affection as his fingers tangle in her hair, tucking some of the silvery-purple strands behind her ear as he deepens their kiss. She hums appreciatively. He’s taken the tips she’s given him. She can’t help but smile against him. She never used to think she would be able to feel such happiness, yet now, the two of them are infinitely together, infinitely connected… In this context, the two of them kissing would be considered so improper, but if it’s really that big of a deal, why does it feel so right? This is all Kyoko can think about, all she can dream of, as she parts her lips to allow Makoto’s tongue to slip into her mouth. Everything about this moment is too perfect, and she could stay in it forever if fate would allow her to. This is all she wanted today – just a flawless moment with her boyfriend, the one man who had destroyed her preconceptions of love. If fate could allow her that, then that was all she needed.

Unfortunately, however, fate finds a disciple in Byakuya Togami.

The door swings open in the blink of an eye. Neither Makoto nor Kyoko has a chance to react or resist as it does. It swings open large and wide, with no discretion or thought given to it, the perfect embodiment of Byakuya and his callous nature. At any other time, she might leap up to break apart from Makoto, but the realization hits her so slowly she doesn’t have the time. Kyoko would swear on her grandfather’s life that she didn’t hear Byakuya’s footsteps coming down the hall, nor did she know that he would have business with Makoto at this hour. She had no idea about him also sharing the gap in his schedule. Her main focus, and quite frankly her only concern, was that Makoto had this free time.

It's what makes it all the more aggravating that Byakuya reacts in loud, disapproving disgust.

“Ugh!”

Makoto breaks off the kiss the second he hears Byakuya’s voice, his face flushing bright red once more. At this point, she’s wondering if he may end up staying like that permanently. Out of the corner of her eye, Kyoko can see her plum-coloured lipstick smudged on Makoto’s mouth. Were the situation less compromising, she might have laughed, yet with Byakuya’s eyes boring into them…

“Of all the-! What is the matter with you two?!” He stomps his foot on the ground like a child, or an employer infuriated with his insubordinate employees. He probably sees them as the latter, if she had to guess. Still, even with this thought in her head, she notices that he seems unable to hide his own embarrassment. The tips of his ears, much like Makoto’s entire face, are tinged pink, and he seems to be darting his eyes around everywhere but their faces. Much as he might dislike admitting it, they are his friends. Even for him, this must stir some odd feelings. It’s no secret to her that many of their companions don’t think of them as sexual beings. They do like to make jokes about their current absence of a sex life. “This is extremely unprofessional!”

Kyoko’s lips press into a flat line. In the back of her mind, she knows that some part of Byakuya is right. There really is a lot to be said about employees, particularly two educators, who seem utterly incapable of keeping their hands off each other. That being said, he is the one who rudely shoved the door open without so much as a single knock. He just assumed Makoto should have this time available to him because he thought that it was free on his schedule. She contemplates laying into him for that in an effort to save face. Truth be told, she doesn’t care much that they’ve been caught, considering it was only by Byakuya, but she knows it will bother Makoto. That is the only reason she even considers trying to reason with their friend.

“It’s… um…” Makoto stammers, reminding her of an anime character just bulleting with sweat, “Well, I… I can… explain…?”

The nervous chuckle he lets out, combined with the scratching at his cheek, makes Kyoko think that that would be unlikely. He looks like he could sweat right through his suit. She could see him fitting in in a sauna right about now.

“Explain what, exactly?” Byakuya snaps. “There is no good reason for you two to… to… To be so brazenly sucking face in the middle of your work day! Have you no shame?”

“That’s quite enough, Togami-kun,” Kyoko scolds, long before she can actually consider whether or not she wants to let him keep going. Without interrupting, they’ll get by easier, but at the same time, she dislikes the way he’s speaking to them. They most definitely were not kissing hard enough to qualify as “sucking face”. Tongue-kissing? Maybe, but there was no face-eating involved, and she intends to make that very clear to him. “Perhaps you have learned your lesson now about knocking before you go opening doors?”

Byakuya clutches his chest in offence. “Me?! You were the ones who-”

Kyoko folds her arms across her chest, sliding off Makoto’s desk to stand and fully face her accuser. This is not the first time that the two of them have engaged in a battle of wits, nor will it be the last, but she knows that in order to win this one, she must look him straight in the eye. Then, and only then, will he start to falter. It is crucial that she make that signature Kirigiri glare work for her once more.

“Who were having a private moment of passion which you so rudely interrupted by bursting through the door.”

Makoto looks like he wants to speak, to add something of substance to the conversation that they are having, but he seems to know well enough to keep his mouth shut. With his level of humiliation, he is in no condition to help Kyoko against Byakuya, nor cut down what Byakuya is saying about him and Kyoko. He is best to just sit and watch, look and listen. Like a good boy, he understands that.

“Certainly you must understand the importance of privacy, Togami-kun. I don’t imagine Mr. Pennyworth came bursting through your door anytime he pleased. You must extend the same courtesy to Makoto and myself. We certainly wouldn’t go bursting through your door.”

Byakuya grits his teeth. “You’re deflecting, you vile little minx.”

Minx, Kyoko thinks. That is new. He has never called me that before. She is not offended. Byakuya’s insults scarcely mean much of anything. They just fly out of his mouth as easily as air goes in.

“Deflecting from what, exactly? Your lack of manners?” She taps her chin. “I think we should be able to forgive you for your transgression, but I surely think we will struggle more if you refuse to let bygones be bygones.”

Byakuya releases a low growl from somewhere in his throat. It reminds her a bit of an animal, but it is not vicious enough to tell her anything other than he is preparing to back down.

“Come now, Togami-kun. You’re embarrassing Makoto.” She shakes her head. “I just wanted a moment alone with my boyfriend. Are you really going to shame us for that? You must understand how important it is for a couple to be together.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He huffs, folding his own arms across his chest. “Utterly ridiculous. Fix your conduct, next time, instead of trying to use that silver tongue of yours on me.”

Kyoko chuckles softly, brushing some hair out of her face. “But I thought you believed me to be using my silver tongue on Makoto?”

She feels her boyfriend lightly jab her in the ribs for that comment. She doesn’t care. The way Byakuya’s face lights up like a firecracker is too amusing for her to just shove away. The shock of the statement strikes him so badly that he actually has to turn away. Makoto will forgive her for it later.

“Naegi-kun, please inform me when Kirigiri-san departs. I have important matters to discuss with you.” Kyoko wants to laugh at how Byakuya won’t even direct his attention at her anymore. He is too busy looking as red as a tomato, shuffling around the papers he is carrying in her arms. If it were anyone else, Kyoko might have felt a bit sorry about this – but given his conduct as of late, it made for a bit of nice revenge. “Until then, I advise both of you – keep your clothes on.”

It is clear on Makoto’s face that he wants to protest the clothes comment, but Byakuya is spinning on his heel and rushing out the door before they know it. As he leaves, Kyoko contemplates calling after him a reminder to knock on the door next time, but decides against it. She’s probably gotten the poor man enough as it is. Instead, she turns her focus back to Makoto, who looks to be a cross between frustrated and sheepish.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he mutters, his shoulders slumping, “You shouldn’t have antagonized him like that.”

Kyoko shrugs. “Ideally, I wouldn’t have had to, but you know he’s not above making a scene. You’ve only just become headmaster here… It wouldn’t do for you to be dismissed in your first few months for something that wasn’t your idea.”

Makoto weighs her words in his head, seeming to understand what she is driving at. Still, that sheepish look remains on his face, like he just can’t let everything about it go. “Still… we probably shouldn’t have been making out at work.”

“Not with the door unlocked, anyway.” She finds herself staring back at that door, hand to her chin as she loses herself in thought. “I could have sworn I locked it.”

He shrugs. “Maybe the lock’s broken?”

“Maybe… That won’t do, though.”

“Hm?” Makoto quirks a brow. “Why not?”

“Well…” she turns back to him, draping her arms over his shoulders and leaning in close. She brushes her nose against his, able to feel the heat radiating off him as she places herself in front of him. “I don’t think this will be the end of our little moments of stolen free time.”

Makoto gulps loudly. “B-But we just got caught…”

Kyoko smiles a devilish smile. They are still early on in their relationship, still so early on that they both struggle to think of things in a particular context, but… “Maybe that’s part of the thrill of it.”

She swears those words could have made Makoto faint.

#Happy Valentine’s Day y’all! Here’s a little fic treat from me.#danganronpa #makoto naegi #kyoko kirigiri #naegiri #kyouko kirigiri #danganronpa 3 hope arc #danganronpa 3 future arc #makoto x Kyoko #byakuya Togami

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deathlooksgoodonyou-if · 1 year ago

Note

I love the potential for angst this IF has. I simply know I will have to play it many times just based on the potential routes.

Now, as a gay man, I'll probably won't play many of the female romances (which pains me, because Jessica's route can be so toxic, angsty and interesting, I'm almost willing to concede). But, fortunately, most of the routes I wanted to try are still available to me.

Jules just feels like a route that it's better if there is homoeroticism. Well, most romantic relationships improve with homoeroticism, but that's my opinion. And their route is just so tragic, but it also can make MC go to such different character arcs. From someone who can't move on, to someone who accepts Jules is gone and begins to heal. I'm just so intrigued by Jules romance. Even if it's doomed from the start. What does this say about me? I'm not sure. Just, perhaps, that I have some things in common with MC, as Jules seems to also fascinate me.

Choi Warren is also an interesting route for me. Because it has the usual angst friends to lovers often has. But it's intensified because MC seems to be aware already of how Warren feels, but is unable as of yet to feel the same love back. Because the ghost of Jules remains. Which makes this relationship intriguing to me, it's that it technically it doesn't have any ties to Jules. Yet, he remains ever present. But there is also this aspect in which MC could just decide to settle for Warren. After all, Warren is their friend, and already loves them. And that's just so angsty.

But there is also this angst that will always be present if you don't romance Warren. Sure, he is already pining. Yet how devastating is to see the person you love not move on from their crush with you but with someone else?

Dylan's romance is probably the one I'm looking forward the most. Simply because I know it will be the most angsty there will be. Because my MC will be someone who was deeply in love with Jules. So Dylan and him (as my MC is male) will begin in a very bad place. Yet, there something so cute and cathartic about them finding love with each other when Jules, the person they both loved, was unable to give them the love they needed and sought? At the same time, there will always be this doubt about what tied them together. Is Jules still, somehow, a shadow that is with them, although he has died and should be completely gone?

Aiden intrigues me as well. Simply because I don't have a reason to romance him yet, but I like this archetype. Perhaps I just love the idea of finding consolation and happiness in someone who you just never expected to love nor trust. And isn't there such a beautiful thing about being able to trust and be dear to someone who cannot be open with anyone else but you?

As of now, I think I'll romance Dylan, Warren and Aiden in that order. But also having Jules as an ever present ghost. I'm not sure yet if I'll romance Jules alone. Since I tend to play MC's who are nice people, I just cannot condemn them to such fates.

I'm very excited about this story, as of yet mainly because of the relationships and their potential. So I'll wait for when you have more to share, as I know I want to explore what the characters have to offer. As well as see how my MC will develop.

Well, most romantic relationships improve with homoeroticism, but that's my opinion.

I feel like my anons and I share the same braincells lmao. I have added more flavour text if both the mc and Jules are of the same sex. I love the angst homosexual relationships offer in fiction.

But it's intensified because MC seems to be aware already of how Warren feels, but is unable as of yet to feel the same love back.

Haha, yes! I like childhood friends to lovers trope in IFs but the ones I have read involved the mc seeking out to be more than friends with the ro. I wanted things to be different here. How about the ro being the one seeking out mc's affection but the mc is just too fixated on someone else to notice the ro?

Because the ghost of Jules remains. Which makes this relationship intriguing to me, it's that it technically it doesn't have any ties to Jules. Yet, he remains ever present. But there is also this aspect in which MC could just decide to settle for Warren. After all, Warren is their friend, and already loves them. And that's just so angsty.

Yes! As for people whose mcs are aromantic or not into men...they can have a serious conversation about this with warren. You can choose a gentle or harsh approach. Whichever one you see fit.

Or you can continue doing what you have been doing so far. Avoiding and pretending.

Oh the endless suffering Warren has to face simply for being in love. First, comfort your bestie whenever things with Jules don't go well, then when Jules is finally out of the picture and he thinks that, maybe, maybe just maybe the mc will look his way this time.....someone snatches them away once again. Lol. It would really hurt him less to know that the mc is just unable to feel that kind of attraction towards him due to their sexual orientation than this.

Yet, there something so cute and cathartic about them finding love with each other when Jules, the person they both loved, was unable to give them the love they needed and sought?

Yes! Just two people who have been hurt by the same person coming together and finding a safe space in one another. (Although there is a route where you can be just as horrible as Jules to Dylan. Maybe even worse.)

But also having Jules as an ever present ghost. I'm not sure yet if I'll romance Jules alone. Since I tend to play MC's who are nice people, I just cannot condemn them to such fates.

A route i myself would have gone for, haha. But I do want people to do a complete Jules playthrough. It won't be pleasant but that is the point.

Thank you! I loved your insights! Will be looking forward to hearing your thoughts on episode one when it's released.

#ro : dylan jeane #ro : jules hawkins #ro : aiden hamilton #ro : warren chae

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keepingupwiththecullensblog · 10 months ago

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🌟🐺 Welcome back to "Keeping Up with the Cullens," or should I say, "Keeping Up with Bella and Her Emotional Support Wolf"! 😂🐺 Yep, you read that right. Today, we’re diving into the wild, somewhat questionable choices of Bella Swan as she navigates life post-Edward. And by "navigates," I mean she's pretty much using poor Jacob Black as her personal emotional support wolf. The twist? Jake doesn’t even know he’s a shapeshifter yet! Talk about a surprise coming-of-age moment. 🐺😅

So here’s the tea: Bella, still reeling from the "OMG my vampire boyfriend dumped me" blues, somehow convinces herself that hanging out with a 16-year-old kid is the solution to all her problems. Never mind the fact that she's 18 and technically supposed to be the "responsible" one. 🙄 Instead, Bella’s like, "Hey, Jake! Wanna fix these death traps—oops, I mean, motorcycles—with me?" 😏 And Jacob, being the sweet, puppy-eyed guy he is, is all in, thinking he’s just helping his crush out with a cool project. 🚲💥 It’s like Bella’s version of therapy, except instead of a licensed professional, she’s got a lovestruck teenager with a toolbox. 🧰❤️

Now, let’s pause for a second. What would Charlie (or Edward, if he wasn’t off in vampire brooding land) think about Bella suddenly getting into motorcycles? 🚔😱 They’d freak out! But Bella? She doesn’t care. She’s like, "Rules? Who needs them?" And there she goes, dragging poor Jake into her rebellion. It's almost like she’s using Jake as a stand-in for her lost thrill-seeking with Edward. I mean, nothing screams "I’m okay, really" like convincing a kid to fix motorcycles you know your dad would lose his mind over. 😂🤦‍♀️

As soon as Bella starts hanging out with Jake, it’s like magic—she unzombifies! 🧟‍♀️✨ Suddenly, she’s reacting to life again, as if the fog has lifted and she remembers how to smile. It’s like she’s got her own personal mood ring, and Jake is permanently stuck on "happy." 😄 Charlie’s delighted to see Bella living life again, but if he knew what was actually going on… yikes! 😬 Meanwhile, Mike and Angela are all like, "OMG, Bella’s back!" 😃🎉 But Jessica and Lauren? They’re just annoyed, probably thinking, "Great, now we have to deal with this again." 🙄 Seriously, it’s like watching someone who’s been in a coma wake up and immediately decide to run a marathon. 🏃‍♀️

But here’s where it gets even more ridiculous. Bella’s not just hanging with Jake for the company. Oh no, she’s using him as a human (or should I say wolf?) bandaid for her shattered heart. 💔🐺 Poor Jake doesn’t even realize he’s being friend-zoned harder than anyone in the history of crushes. 😩💔 He’s just trying to be a good friend, and Bella’s like, "Yeah, yeah, that’s nice. Now, fix this motorcycle so I can break my promise to him." 🚲💨 At least they decide to do homework together twice a week—of course, because they still have to pretend to be normal teens, right? 😂📚 Nothing says "teenage rebellion" like calculus homework after a day of fixing motorcycles. 📝��️

And just when you think Bella might be turning a corner—BOOM! 💥 She sees "Sam’s cult" jumping off cliffs and immediately thinks, "OMG, someone call an ambulance!" 🚑 But Jake’s all chill, explaining that it’s just cliff diving for fun. And Bella? Of course, she wants to try it! Because why not? What could go wrong with adding "potentially fatal leaps off cliffs" to her growing list of questionable life choices? 😂🤦‍♀️ Honestly, this girl definitely needs professional help. 🛋️ Maybe she’s got a bucket list we don’t know about that just says "Give Charlie a heart attack" in bold letters. 😂📋

Even though Jacob’s magically helping her reconnect with life, Bella’s still having nightmares. 🌙😱 She wakes up screaming almost every night, missing her sleep bodyguard. Maybe she should ask Jake to sleep over since Edward isn’t around to protect her dreams. I mean, what could be more comforting than having your emotional support wolf on standby? 🐺😴 But honestly, can you imagine Jake’s face if Bella did ask him to sleep over? He’d probably turn into a wolf just out of sheer awkwardness! 😂

Jake, bless his heart, has no idea what he’s in for. He’s just trying to help his friend, but little does he know, he’s being used as a one-stop-shop for all of Bella’s mental health needs. 😳 And the worst part? He’s not even aware that he’s about to become a literal wolf, which is a whole other can of supernatural drama that’s just waiting to explode. 🐺💥 It’s like he signed up to be in a buddy comedy and accidentally walked into a horror movie instead. 🎬😱

It’s like Bella’s got her own personal therapy wolf, except she’s not exactly paying him in kibble or belly rubs. Instead, she’s paying him in emotional whiplash and unintentional manipulation. Seriously, Bella, maybe a shrink would have been a better idea? 🛋️😅

So, what’s next for Bella? More reckless behavior? More using Jake for his fixing skills and emotional support? Probably. Let’s just hope she doesn’t drag him into something even crazier—though with Bella, that’s almost a guarantee. Stay tuned for more wild antics from Forks’ most melodramatic human! 😂🌲

#twilight saga #bella swan #jacob black #emotional support wolf #vampire problems #forks high drama #dazzle alert #new moon #keeping up with the cullens #reckless bella #motorcycle madness #cliff diving insanity #Bella needs help #poor Jake #summer reading

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erabundus · 2 years ago

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@curiouskinetic &&. said... It's been a normal, rather uneventful (and frankly kind of boring) day, but one Sora was still content to spend with a friend. Life didn't have to be all big adventures after all, some quiet time hanging out and reading books was nice too. Though she'd finished her book earlier than expected, and found herself at a loss for what to do afterwards. Flopping down at Ren's side she let out a little huff, trying to decide whether or not she should just go to sleep. Until a scent caught her attention, and she found herself leaning towards him and giving him a little sniff. ".... hey, Ren? What's that other scent that's like... always on you?" Hm. That probably sounded a little odd. She should clarify. "Uhm, I mean, it's from a person I'm pretty sure-- someone you hang out with a lot?" Not that she had a burning need to know about all of his other friends, but she couldn't help being curious about one that seemed so important... if only judging by the fact their scent was constantly on him.

he's fully preoccupied with his own book — to such a degree that the wanderer doesn't even look up when sora flops down by his side. perhaps it stands as subconscious testament to what extent he actually trusts her; ren is oft prone to erring on the side of caution, even with those he's known for quite some time. it takes a concerted effort to win even the barest shreds of FAITH — for though his understanding of the BETRAYALS that have haunted him for so many years has changed, force of habit still has its claws sunk deep nonetheless. it makes these small moments of contentment all the more precious, if only for their rarity. such comfort is ordinarily found in total SOLITUDE, when he isolates himself somewhere far too deep in the forests of sumeru for another soul to find him.

❝ ... huh? ❞ predictably, he's so distracted that he barely notices the question. paper rustles as he turns the page — only for the wanderer to FREEZE as understanding crashes into him like a massive wave. once again, his expressive face stabs him in the back; a myriad of emotions flickering across delicate countenance at speeds nearly too fast to register. confusion. shock. suspicion. embarrassment. the last one is particularly NOTABLE, for ren tends to carry himself as if he's above the concept of SHAME — not out of a lack of self respect, but rather with the confidence of one too stubborn to spare what others think so much as a thought. yet now, a dusting of a distinctly rosy hue paints his cheekbones and he stares at sora with eyes gone impossibly wide. he has a sneaking suspicion he knows precisely who she's referring to; there is only one person who ren spends so much time around — and in fact, actively seeks out his company at every available opportunity.

it's just a bit awkward to explain. ( his scent? )

❝ uh. ❞ the wanderer turns away, pretending to fake a cough. as if that alone is somehow enough to smooth over the MORTIFYING display. ❝ that person is probably ... ❞ words trail off just as quickly as they begin. he drums painted nails against the cover of his long-forgotten book, trying to think of a way to respond as succinctly as possible. when nothing comes to mind, lavender gaze flicks to his hands. nose wrinkles in thought. after a few seconds of contemplation, ren merely settles for raising one for sora to see — purposefully trying to draw attention to the ENGAGEMENT RING he wears upon his finger. a bit messy, but with his tongue evidently taking the opportunity to rebel against him, it seems like the most painless way to answer her question.

#curiouskinetic #momijiba #( popcorn popping sfx but it's the interior of ren's brain VSKJV )

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toxship-toxy · 1 year ago

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A new term: "Toxship"

First, here's how you say it: "tox" is as in "toxic", "ship" is pronounced the usual way. It's a combination of "toxic" and "relationship", and thus it's said that way! Someone who supports or ships toxships might call themself a "toxshipper", if they so choose.

"But what is a toxship?"

It is exactly what it sounds like: A ship (character relationship) that could be read as "toxic". This may include...

abusive ships

ships with age gaps

interspecies ships

ships that contain graphic or heavy content

But that is not all that a toxship may be, and not all that it implies! Please, continue to read, lest you miss the point utterly...

"Isn't this covered by 'comship' already?"

It is not! I was actually inspired by "comship" to make an alternative term that better suits me. You can read about comship from some of its coiners here: 1, 2. Notice in particular these quotes from those carrds: "all ships are valid and reasonable to enjoy" and "don't like, don't look". These are crucial to comship, and are to welcome in stealth proshippers to the term. These ideals are not inherent to being toxship.

"So toxshippers can be ship haters?!"

That's correct!! A toxshipper is allowed to vent their frustrations with ships they dislike and be choosy in what they support. Think of it like a real middle-ground between proship and anti. Everyone always says ships are valid, but what about squicks and NOTPs? Have your cake and eat it, too!!

Some expansion on what toxshipping espouses:

A toxship need not necessarily be "romanticized", it can just be an abusive dynamic you enjoy exploring.

Shipping discourse is stupid, but complain if you must.

Toxship art should be tagged and flagged appropriately so it can be avoided by those who might complain, or else otherwise somehow made harder to find without intentionally seeking it out. A toxshipper who puts themself out in the open should prepare for whatever ire they may draw.

Toxship leans 18+, unlike comship. Exclude minors, even if the toxship in question is "worksafe".

Toxship does not hold the same ideals as proship, like comship does. It is not meant to be "unknown/stealth" for "ease of mind" of anyone, toxship knows exactly what it is and how upsetting it might be, and it is content with this. It is simply for those who spend their time exploring unhealthy dynamics in fiction, people who are mature enough to think about such things critically but still have some kind of fun picking it apart.

"Does toxship necessarily include incest, underage, zoophilia, etc.?"

I'd say no, because I dislike these themes and think people should try harder to make their darkfics disturbing before pulling out the big guns in gruesome detail, even if they are under the "abuse" umbrella. But I can't physically stop you if you do try and include them, can I?

"Is there a flag for toxship I can use?"

Not yet! I want to make one eventually, though. Hopefully one that's not just some stripes with an emoji slapped on.

"Is there an emoji combination for toxship that I can sneak into my bio?"

Not yet! I think it'd be fun to have symbols for it, but I haven't decided on any at this moment.

Now go forth... and write the toxfic of your dreams!

#toxship #comship #anti shipping #proship #fandom terminology #shipping discourse #🥀☁️

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cattatonically · 25 days ago

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What You Are Looking For Is in The Library - Michiko Aoyama

Synopsis

For fans of The Midnight Library and Before the Coffee Gets Cold, this charming Japanese novel shows how the perfect book recommendation can change a reader’s life.

What are you looking for?

This is the famous question routinely asked by Tokyo’s most enigmatic librarian, Sayuri Komachi. Like most librarians, Komachi has read every book lining her shelves—but she also has the unique ability to read the souls of her library guests. For anyone who walks through her door, Komachi can sense exactly what they’re looking for in life and provide just the book recommendation they never knew they needed to help them find it.

Each visitor comes to her library from a different juncture in their careers and dreams, from the restless sales attendant who feels stuck at her job to the struggling working mother who longs to be a magazine editor. The conversation that they have with Sayuri Komachi—and the surprise book she lends each of them—will have life-altering consequences.

With heartwarming charm and wisdom, What You Are Looking For Is in the Library is a paean to the magic of libraries, friendship and community, perfect for anyone who has ever found themselves at an impasse in their life and in need of a little inspiration.

My Thoughts

Over the last couple of years, I’ve definitely noticed an uptick in westerners reading what my Kobo app referred as Japanese cozies. And of course, I was intrigued – as I am with most books that seem to catch my interest. So I decided to give What You Are Looking For Is In The Library a go, and I was not disappointed.

Each story in this book features a person who’s a little lost in life for various reasons. They’re looking for something – they may not always know what it is, but they’re searching. And their search brings each one of them to the library.

Once there, they encounter Ms. Sayuri Komachi. Ms. Komachi has the uncanny ability to see her patrons exactly where they are in life. She can somehow get to the depths of what they’re looking for, and offer a list of book suggestions. It’s through this list that the patrons usually find themselves intrigued – one of these books is usually not quite like the others. And yet, it is exactly what they’re looking for.

But what I found most charming about this book was the sense of community that grew from it. Somehow, every story interconnected with the others. Somehow, everyone had interacted with each other. And somehow, they had each changed the others’ lives in some way.

And this really brought home to me the importance of community – of connecting with people, and finding connections in maybe not-so-obvious places. This is something I’ve found difficult in my adulthood, especially considering some previous experiences and trauma.

But this book has inspired me to seek it out, to try to find what it is that I’m really looking for. And I think I know exactly where I should start.

#Book thoughts #What You Are Looking For Is in The Library #Michiko Aoyama #Catt reads #Catt's life in books

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ittybxttykxttytxtty · 2 years ago

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oh boyo, based on the comments i've seen...i am nervous 😄

Eventually he’d finally decided that he would seek your forgiveness for how awful he’d treated you, wanting to prove just how serious he was about being there for the both of you. And he was not going to give up until he’d somehow managed it. Until he proved himself to you.

MY BOY IS LEARNING. HE IS LEARNING. I LOVE HOW THIS IS THE INTRO. YES, IM IGNORING THE GRUMPY BROODING MOOD HE IS IN. WHAT MATTERS MOST IS HE KNOWS HE DONE FUCKED UP 😭😭😭 I AM SO PROUD.

But yet somehow as he stepped into the office and heard both Karen and Foggy working at their desks, he couldn’t stop that bit of bitter anger that suddenly burned white hot in his stomach.

okay, i was wrong. he's back on his bullshit again

And yet neither of them had said a thing.

because they have their priorities straight, matthew. we all cant be irresponsible like you. 🙄

This wasn't on Foggy or Karen, he reminded himself.

okay, thats an improvement. this is good. keep that in mind.

Of course he knew they had a point, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, but that didn’t stop him from being angry that he’d been walking around this office entirely oblivious while both of them knew what was really going on.

oh no! its the consequences of his own actions! 😮 i wonder why they knew and you didnt. i wonder why it took so long. really, i do. sarcasm

“I mean,” Karen began cautiously, “can you blame her?”

a queen is about to start spitting facts 😌✨ go ahead, baby. i'll hold your earrings for you 😌✨

IM NOT GONNA PUT WHAT KAREN SAID HERE BECAUSE ITS LIKE BEATING A DEAD HORSE, I HAVE NOTHING TO ADD. SHE SAID WHAT I'VE BEEN THINKING SINCE DAY ONE. WHAT SHE SAID IS FACTS, TRUTHS, AND GOSPEL. SO, INSTEAD HERE'S MY FAVE PICTURE(s) OF MS. KAREN PAGE.

i had to do it to em, bois #kastle 5ever

“I would never . And I will do everything in my power to get her to understand that.”

thats a start, das good. please keep moving forward. i want the three of you to be happy 🥺💕 i want lil devil to have a mama and a papa that loves them very much (imagine if it turned out to be twins or smt tho 😂...unless 👀)

"Cause I think you've got some work to do, buddy."

the weather and the truth, coming to you live from Foggy Nelson 😌✨

But after the past couple of nights, stopping by your apartment was all he ever seemed compelled to do.

thats right, buddy. time to go learn and yearn 😌

He'd listened to that fluttering heartbeat for quite a long while, having to eventually tear himself away from it only when he overheard someone screaming for help in the city.

this is nyc, it'll be fine. if they die, just press f to pay respect 💀

Too little, too late , the bitter words of the Devil reminded him.

omg, wtf is wrong with you. dont you dare call Jojo the devil

It was almost too much for Matt to bear.

okay okay oh no, its hurting again. 😭😭😭

Because of his own mistakes, his inability to prioritize the different parts of his lives. Because he should have just listened to you when you’d asked him to stay.

i mean, its the truth. it hurts but im having fun reading matt's self made problems...i think 🥲

im not, it hurts to see him cry...i cant

He honestly didn’t think he could handle hearing you tell him yet again that he wasn’t wanted. That he had nothing to offer. That there was nothing here for him.

omfg, no. dont put words into my mouth put something else in it. wtf. no. oh no oh no oh no 😭😭😭 YOU ARE WANTED. YOU ARE LOVED. ITS YOU WHO CANT SEE THAT. WE'RE ALL JUST WAITING. PLEASE.

It wasn’t until he heard a few droplets land on the roof beside his fist that he realized he’d been crying.

omg omg omg, bella i cannot cry i already did my night time routine. castar oil and everything. omg.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,”

agsgsgsh 😭😭😭😭 bella...

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Talked to you like that. And I–I certainly shouldn’t have left you when you’d needed me.”

beLLAaaaa 😭😭😭😭

“I should’ve been better. You deserved better. But I’ll fix it. I swear to you, I will fix it.”

BELLLLLLLLLLLAAAA 😭😭😭😭😭

“Hopefully you get your father’s intelligence,” you continued on. “He’s a smart man, even if he’s stubborn and makes absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.”

To be welcomed back into your life, even just a little bit, so that he could prove himself.

you'll prove yourself, matthew. you're an idiot but your our no. 1 idiot...with a heart. 😭😭💕 i believe in you.

A blue plush narwhal with a gold horn sat smiling back at you. One that hadn’t been there earlier.

agfsfsggsg, HE BOUGHT A NARWHAL PLUSHIE. IDFC, HOW. i actually do care, please include how he bought one in the next chapter. id give you a nickel, a napkin, and a chip

Matt must have been nearby, eavesdropping on the conversation you were having.

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

It may not have been a grand gesture, but it was a gesture that clearly meant something. But what exactly still remained to be seen.

he'll redeem himself, you'll see 🥺 i might bully matthew all the time when commenting but i do love him and ik that he'll make this right. 🥺 i believe in him 🥺💕 this is the only time i'll say this tho, i have a reputation to uphold. 😭😭

After thots:

- will never read this after doing my night time routine. i learned my lesson, i thought i was strong. i wasnt.

- matt is learning, very slowly...but its progress and i am proud. ik its too early to say that all is beginning to heal, so i'll celebrate in the final chapter instead. 🥲

- karen and nelson is still working overtime, please pay them their dues. name the child and future children after them, please and thank you 💕

- istg, the rooftop scene just about killed me. i couldnt. straight up wanted to record myself screaming and post it here instead of my comments

- the whole chapter is a healing fic after the fight from the last chapter....and i love that for us all 🥹

i can now sleep, peacefully 🥲 thank you for the bedtime story 💕

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Six]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: Another angsty and sad installment, but hey there's finally an update for this fic! There's also some POV switches in this one but it should be obvious. Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt hadn’t meant to show up at the office in such a foul mood that Friday morning. That wasn’t his intention. He’d gone through a multitude of emotions last night, barely getting any sleep after he’d stopped by your apartment and found out that you were pregnant. Eventually he’d finally decided that he would seek your forgiveness for how awful he’d treated you, wanting to prove just how serious he was about being there for the both of you. And he was not going to give up until he’d somehow managed it. Until he proved himself to you. With a focused calm after that silent vow, he’d put back his apartment after the destructive mess he’d made of it in his self-loathing fury.

But yet somehow as he stepped into the office and heard both Karen and Foggy working at their desks, he couldn’t stop that bit of bitter anger that suddenly burned white hot in his stomach. Because they both had to have known that you were pregnant this whole time. He knew Karen had been spending time with you, and he figured Foggy’s rage at him back on Monday morning had to have been due to him finding out the truth, too. And yet neither of them had said a thing.

Feeling irrationally angry, Matt slammed the door harshly behind himself before roughly storming his way to his office. He heard the way both Foggy and Karen had glanced up from their desks at his loud entrance, probably exchanging a look with each other about his bad mood.

Dropping his briefcase onto his desk in his frustration, Matt folded up his cane before he also slammed that onto his desk. Closing his eyes, he blew out a rough breath, his hands aggravatedly readjusting his tie.

This wasn't on Foggy or Karen, he reminded himself. This was between the two of you. What had happened was due to his actions. You were allowed to be friends with them still, allowed to have confided in them. Even if it hurt him to be the last to know.

But as much as Matt tried hard to calm himself down and not lash out, ultimately his anger won out.

Swiftly turning on his heel, Matt stormed back out of his office, his teeth grinding together. Hands rising to roughly grip his hips, he couldn’t fight the near growl in his voice when he spoke.

“Both of you knew, didn’t you?” he called out into the office. “That she was pregnant? With my child?”

He heard Foggy sigh, gradually sliding his chair back and making his way around his desk before exiting his office. Karen hesitated for a moment, running her fingers through her hair before she slowly rose from her desk, too. Both of them entered the main room of the office a moment later, focusing on Matt.

“So you finally spoke with her?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah,” Matt snapped. “I did. Turns out she’s pregnant. But you both knew that, didn’t you? Before I even did?”

“Yes,” Karen replied. “Wasn’t exactly my place to tell you that, though.”

“She was planning to tell you herself, Matt,” Foggy added. “That was her place to do so, not ours. I know you know that.”

Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation. Of course he knew they had a point, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, but that didn’t stop him from being angry that he’d been walking around this office entirely oblivious while both of them knew what was really going on. While both of them knew he was going to be a father.

“I…take it the talk didn’t go so well?” Foggy asked carefully.

Matt’s eyes narrowed back at him behind his lenses. “No, Fog, it didn’t,” he answered. “She told me to leave. Told me she was raising our child by herself, even after I practically begged her to let me be a part of things with her.”

“I mean,” Karen began cautiously, “can you blame her?”

Matt’s head darted in the direction of Karen’s voice. He heard the way she crossed her arms over her chest and leant up against the doorframe of her office. His eyes narrowed even further at her words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply.

“It means that you’ve been throwing yourself out there as Daredevil for so long now, Matt,” Karen explained. “You don’t even think about the consequences of it anymore. You were supposed to be in a committed relationship with her. And things had been going well between you both, but in the entirety of your relationship, nothing crazy had been happening in Hell’s Kitchen until just recently. And then you prioritized that over her,” Karen continued. “So can you blame her for not wanting you around for this? For not wanting the added stress of wondering if you’re actually going to show up for her when you say you will? For not wanting to wonder if she even matters to you? If you’re even going to be any help to her when she needs it?”

“Well, I–”

“Because you have absolutely no idea what she’s been going through for the past few weeks,” Karen barreled over Matt. “The fear and the loneliness she’s been feeling. Struggling with uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms while trying to take care of herself all on her own. She’s been in this alone for weeks now, Matt. Because you couldn’t have just put her first for a single damn minute and listen to her the other week when she begged you .”

Matt stood there dumbfounded when Karen finally finished, his mouth falling open as his hands dropped from his hips, coming to hang loosely at his sides. In all his anger at himself since finding out that you were pregnant last night, he admittedly hadn’t thought too much about what you’d been going through alone. Sure, he figured you were scared, he’d certainly thought about that last night–cried over it repeatedly–but he hadn’t thought about what you must be feeling from pregnancy on top of all of that. The memory of you having been sick last night surfaced in his mind and guilt burned through him, dissipating the anger within him immediately.

“She thinks you wouldn’t want to be a father,” Foggy added softly. “That you’d care more about the city and Daredevil than raising a child.”

Matt shook his head firmly, a pain hitting him hard in the chest at Foggy’s words. You’d said that to him last night, too, but it still hurt to hear.

“That’s not true,” he breathed out, still shaking his head. “Nothing could ever be more important to me than my own family. Nothing . Especially because I never–” the words caught in his throat, his eyes closing sharply, “–I never really had one. And I wouldn’t–wouldn’t do the same to my own child. Wouldn’t have them growing up feeling like I ever abandoned them. Because I wouldn’t ,” he nearly snarled out. “I would never . And I will do everything in my power to get her to understand that.”

"I believe you," Foggy said.

The words caught Matt off guard, his head tilting to the side as he heard the truth in Foggy’s heartbeat.

"I know you, man," Foggy continued. "I know how difficult it was for you not having your family once your dad passed. We talked about it often at Columbia. So I believe you."

Matt felt his throat closing up with emotion at his friend’s words. Tears were brimming in his eyes behind his glasses and he blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of Foggy and Karen.

"For what it's worth, I do, too," Karen added gently. "And we have both told her that. But honestly? You do have some changes to make, Matt. You need to learn balance if you're ever going to make things work. Because it's not Foggy and I that you need to convince."

"You're right," Matt readily agreed, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You're right, I do. And I will prove to her that she can depend on me. That I want to be in this with her."

"Good," Foggy firmly replied. "Cause I think you've got some work to do, buddy."

Matt kneeled down on the roof of your building, hunching over and turning an ear towards your apartment below so he could listen in better. He'd passed by here earlier when he'd first gone out tonight as Daredevil, which was something he had been avoiding ever since the breakup. He hadn't wanted to catch so much as a single beat of your heart, afraid the sound alone would shatter him to pieces, only reminding himself how much he missed you. But after the past couple of nights, stopping by your apartment was all he ever seemed compelled to do.

Earlier when he stopped by you'd been curled up on your couch, quietly watching some of those shows he knew you liked. He'd noticed you were tired, close to drifting out of consciousness as you lay there focused on the television. He could hear the exhaustion in your body and the countless times you'd yawned. He'd been itching to hop down onto your fire escape and slip through the window as he listened, desperate to peel off his suit and hold you on the couch like he used to. To let you drift to sleep in his arms while he buried his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

He'd focused on the baby, too. He'd listened to that fluttering heartbeat for quite a long while, having to eventually tear himself away from it only when he overheard someone screaming for help in the city. He hadn't wanted to go, deluding himself into feeling like he was there with you both if he focused hard enough. But ultimately you both were safe inside that apartment and somewhere in the city someone else needed his help.

But he'd come back one last time before he planned to head home for the night and try to sleep because he'd heard you up and about in your apartment. He knew it was early in the morning and he'd been curious, wondering if you were alright. Because you should have been asleep at this point.

So he had settled on the roof, and now he heard you rummaging around your kitchen. A loud rumble of hunger from your stomach met his ears and he understood immediately why you were awake–you were hungry. Making something to eat in the middle of the night.

His shoulders sagged as he placed a gloved hand to the floor of the roof as if that would somehow bring him closer to you. He'd have made you anything you asked. Would have ordered you whatever you wanted, any time of the night.

He'd have done anything for you.

Too little, too late , the bitter words of the Devil reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, I'm going as fast as I can," he heard you say. "Don't forget you're the one who woke me from a dead sleep at two in the morning wanting a grilled cheese. So you'll just need to be patient cause I am not awake, and that weird hunger-nausea is not helping.”

A smile slowly pulled Matt’s lips upwards under the mask as he listened in. You were talking to the baby, your tone a mix of tired, affectionate, and frustrated. He wondered how often you did that. This was the first time he’d stopped by and overheard you.

"Would be a lot easier if you craved things like an apple," you continued, heating the pan. "You know how much work it takes to prep an apple? None, my little devil."

Matt's hand curled into a fist at those three words you'd spoken so lovingly from your lips. My little devil . You used to call him that when he'd make his way back to you at night, running your fingers so delicately across cheek, just beneath his mask, as you inspected him for injuries.

Now you were calling the baby that? It was almost too much for Matt to bear. Sitting on the roof, bent in half over his knees, he became very aware of how much he wasn't quite a part of any of this with you. How separate he felt from you and his own child growing within you. Because of his own mistakes, his inability to prioritize the different parts of his lives. Because he should have just listened to you when you’d asked him to stay.

The burn of tears unexpectedly hit him fast and hard, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to slip through your window right now and pull you into a kiss, to wrap you in his arms and just hold you. He’d love nothing more than to settle you on the couch and make you the best damn grilled cheese you’d ever had. Afterwards, he'd happily clean up the kitchen and take you back to your bed, curling himself around you and falling asleep. You'd always fit so perfectly in his arms.

But you’d probably have yelled at him if he tried to step foot into your apartment again to help. He honestly didn’t think he could handle hearing you tell him yet again that he wasn’t wanted. That he had nothing to offer. That there was nothing here for him. Because that part wasn’t remotely true–you and that unborn child meant more to him than you clearly knew.

“I don’t understand how this smells like the best thing in the world right now,” you said to your belly, Matt’s ears picking up on the way you were rubbing a hand across it. “Yet coffee makes me want to throw up. I have never been a grilled cheese person. Your dad can attest to that.”

It wasn’t until he heard a few droplets land on the roof beside his fist that he realized he’d been crying. His tears had somehow managed to slide out beneath his mask as he’d been listening in to you making your late night snack. His throat had felt like it was closing up the second you’d mentioned him. And the emotions that stirred awake inside of him when you’d referred to him as dad were strong and foreign to him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he croaked out between his tears. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Talked to you like that. And I–I certainly shouldn’t have left you when you’d needed me.” He slammed his fist against the roof, grimacing at the force as his knuckles stung beneath his gloves. “I should’ve been better. You deserved better. But I’ll fix it. I swear to you, I will fix it.”

“Wonder who you’ll take after more,” you mused softly, entirely oblivious to Matt sitting on the roof of your apartment building listening in. “Me or your dad.”

Raising a gloved hand to his mouth, a muffled sob slipped out of Matt and into it. As much as hearing this was further twisting his heart in his chest, he couldn’t tear himself away. He couldn’t stop listening, wishing he could be part of the conversation with you.

“Hopefully you get your father’s intelligence,” you continued on. “He’s a smart man, even if he’s stubborn and makes absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.”

A humorless laugh fell out of Matt next, still muffled against the palm of his glove. More wet tears trailed down his cheeks, the brisk night air biting unforgivingly against his damp skin. You weren’t wrong on that.

“I wonder what your favorite animal will be, too,” you said, turning off the stovetop. “Dogs? Cats? Koala bears?”

He heard you hum in thought as you plated your grilled cheese, walking your way over to the small table in your kitchen. The same table he’d sat at with you for many dinners, flirting with you over a meal he’d helped you cook or one you’d both ordered out. The same table you both eventually crawled out of bed in the mornings together to have coffee at, with Matt often pulling you down to cuddle in his lap while he slowly woke up.

“Or will you like narwhals maybe?” you murmured, breaking through the memories playing through his mind. "What do you think, my little devil?"

Matt forced himself to stop listening in to that one-sided conversation when he heard you take a bite of your food, shaking his head roughly as he rose to his feet. His heart ached far too much, the tears continuing to drip down his chin and land on the cement roof with an echoing plop each time. He wiped the sleeve of his suit across his face below the mask, trying to dry the tears even though they still kept coming.

He didn’t think he could sit up on your rooftop any longer. It wasn’t the same as actually being there with you. Touching you. Smelling you. Holding you. He needed to find a way to do more than this. To be welcomed back into your life, even just a little bit, so that he could prove himself. He couldn’t just sit here pathetically crying on your apartment building’s rooftop while he eavesdropped.

With a frustrated growl, Matt threw himself over to the next rooftop, heading back out into the night.

Groaning, you woke up to that familiar, unpleasant dizziness as your alarm rang out on the nightstand beside you. Pulling a hand up from out of the sheets, you turned off your alarm before running your hand across your forehead, keeping your eyes closed and waiting for the sensation to pass. It was a few minutes before it finally did, and you slowly began to toss the sheets off of yourself.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you reached over and grabbed the half-full tumbler of water from your nightstand. You had been keeping one there every night lately, noticing that the cool water sometimes helped ease the nausea that woke you from a dead sleep.

Bringing the tumbler up to your parched lips, you slowly drank a few sips down. Your stomach immediately grumbled, churning once the water reached it. Groaning again, you stopped drinking, not wanting to push your luck and end up hunched over your toilet again. Apparently you still had a few more weeks before the morning sickness generally wore off for most women in pregnancy, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t counting down the days. You’d celebrate with a cup of coffee–assuming the scent of it didn’t still deter you.

Rising up onto your feet, you groggily trudged your way out of the bedroom and across the hall to your bathroom. You flipped on the light, setting your tumbler down on the bathroom counter so you could relieve your very full bladder. You’d woken up a handful of times to pee in the middle of the night, but yet somehow there always seemed to be more to empty.

When you’d finished in the bathroom, you shuffled your way down the hallway, throwing a hand over your mouth as you yawned. If only you could have crawled back into bed and taken the day off of work. It was the last thing you felt like doing today. But as you made your way past your couch in the living room, something had caught your eye and you paused.

Doubling back you stopped at the armrest of the couch, staring down at what was positioned in the middle of it. A blue plush narwhal with a gold horn sat smiling back at you. One that hadn’t been there earlier.

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at it, confusion washing over you. Until you remembered how you’d gotten hungry in the middle of the night last night and made yourself a grilled cheese. And you’d been talking to your baby bump aloud, musing what they may or may not be like in the future.

You gasped when realization dawned on you, your hand flying back up to your mouth. Matt must have been nearby, eavesdropping on the conversation you were having. He must’ve heard you mention narwhals last night, and then apparently decided to run out and buy one–and the thought of him doing that dressed as Daredevil was admittedly amusing–before slipping into your apartment and leaving it here for you to find. For the baby.

As you trudged your way over to the couch, setting your tumbler down onto the coffee table and collapsing into the couch cushions, you didn’t know what to make of that. Picking up the stuffed narwhal, you hugged it to your chest, your eyes closing. Half of you wanted to be pissed that he’d been listening in without your knowledge, wondering if he’d been doing that often, but the other half of you was touched. It may not have been a grand gesture, but it was a gesture that clearly meant something. But what exactly still remained to be seen.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71 @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon

The tags aren't working for some and I'm not entirely sure why (could be a settings issue or just tumblr being annoying, I'm sorry!)

#matt murdock x reader #reread

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dawnscall · 2 years ago

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A letter arrives at Dawn Winery, a bit crumpled at the edges and worn but bearing a familiar script despite the lack of quality parchment or familiar perfume it's sender's letters usually held. Most alarmingly the corner seemed to be embossed with the name of a notorious prison from abroad, or maybe it wasn't all that alarming at all given who had definitely written whatever was inside.

Diluc,

You're probably not going to want to hear this but I'm currently being held in Fontaine's Fortress of Meropide for a crime I most definitely didn't commit! I know you may feel a bit skeptical about that fact, and you probably have that adorable little furrow in your brow you get when you're trying to decide if you believe me or not, but I swear on my honor as a warrior that I couldn't have possibly kidnapped all of these young women when I would've been even younger than Teucer when this all started!

Anyway, I suppose I won't be able to keep my promise to visit again soon to get away from this boring assignment because I have no idea how long it'll take for me to get out of here unless I break myself out by force. ( Mr. Warden if you're reading this, which I'm sure you are, I thank you for allowing the opportunity to write this letter but this is a serious threat and I hope you'll give me an exhilarating fight when it happens. ) Please wait for me while I attempt to get back at this so-called system of justice in this so-called nation of justice.

I hope all's been well with you. Things have been a little complicated lately for me in more ways than one but it's nothing I can't handle! Looking forward to a good spar since nobody here seems to want to take me on seriously, so don't do anything I'd do- or do and tell me all about it once I get to see you again!

Yours Always, Tartaglia.

@inanthesis + ( 1 ) unruly yet beloved harbinger

to say that upon receiving the letter, a previously unforeseen migraine would follow soon after reading it would be a devastating understatement. of course childe would get himself into trouble some way, some how while he was in fontaine. he possessed a rare talent unlike anything he'd ever encountered before— one where everywhere he went, trouble would soon follow, and this was no exception. if there was one thing in all of his letter that childe was most correct about, it was that his brow was indeed furrowed, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as the initial stress of the news of his detainment had yet to ebb away.

as for the matter of what poor master diluc is expected to do knowing his rambunctious and thoroughly incorrigible beau was being held in the fortress of meropide... he could only shake his head. his letter didn't inspire any confidence that he wouldn't continue to look for more trouble, either— no. in fact, he was surprised, given that childe chose to pick a fight with the warden within his letter, that it even somehow managed to reach him at all. there truly was something to be said about the amount of sheer dumb luck this man possessed. all that was left to do to settle his nerves was write back to him, and pray that he didn't manage to make things worse in the meantime, as was well within his capabilities.

Tartaglia, Despite how I find it hard to believe you weren't looking for trouble and seeking out the champions within Fontaine for a good fight... I actually do believe this is a crime that you could not have committed. Still, I expect that while you've had ample time to think about how you might retaliate, you should probably lay low and wait to see how things shake out. Leave it to you to find trouble wherever you go. Please do not pick fights with the wardens... the more annoyed with you they become, the more difficult it will be when you eventually will stand trial once more. Pick your battles carefully, and maybe you won't have such a hard time. Truthfully, everything here has been rather quiet lately. I, however, was a bit disappointed that you never came to follow through on the plans we made. I suppose I cannot hang that over your head, given the circumstances, but I do expect that upon your successful and hopefully unaggravated release, that you'll find your way back to me. In the meantime, I suppose you'll have to make due with the thought that I've fought quite a number of powerful enemies in your absence, so if you'd like me to tell you all about them, you'll have to hurry back. I'll be waiting for you. With my love, Diluc

#˚ · . ( ask ) ✧ answered.#inanthesis #i can't believe he stood diluc up ):

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lliminall · 2 years ago

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libera me, dies irae, requiem aeternam | pt. 2

[yandere!giorno x reader x yandere!GER]

word count: 2.5k

tags: gn reader, yandere, very brief implied nsfw, still ignoring GER’s canon limits, jjba but make it eldritch horror

It’s a wonder that you can still find ways to get yourself hurt despite the many safeguards your captor has put into place. No razors in the bathroom, no glass in your room, no knives at the table unless he is with you.

Tonight Giorno has joined you for dinner, and the knife you’ve been allowed to cut your food with proves itself to be a weapon in your sleep deprived hands. The blade only slips for a second, but it’s long enough slice deep into the meat of your finger, and you hiss as stinging pain races up your hand.

Giorno’s hands are on top of yours before you can even think to ask for help.

“It’s all right,” he soothes. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of it.”

His hand covers your bleeding finger and something in the air around you seems to shift. A change in the energy, intense and disorienting, and somehow familiar. A creeping sensation begins to overtake you, frigid like ice water dripping down your spine. You’ve felt this energy before.

It retreats only a moment later, leaving you swimming back to your senses in the quiet of the dining room. Giorno unfolds his hands and your fingers rest in his palm, perfect and unmarred except for the smear of blood on your skin. Your head spins.

“What…?” is all you can manage in response.

Giorno looks at you contemplatively, choosing his words carefully as he thumbs over the skin of your fingers for as long as you’ll let him hold them.

“It’s an ability I’ve had for most of my life,” he says. “I understand this must be disorienting for you.”

You want to ask him to explain what just happened, where you’ve felt this before, and why this feeling of dread settled under your skin the moment he showed it to you. But Giorno stands and lifts you up with him by your newly healed hand.

“I should have noticed how exhausted you are,” he says. “I apologize. You must want to lay down.”

He begins leading you to your shared bedroom, and there’s a finality in his tone that tells you he won’t be explaining what that was just yet. He leaves you in your bed with a final brush over your hand, and turns the light off behind him.

—

It’s late when you finally decide to forgo your attempts to sleep. The clock on your bedside reads “12:45 AM” in faint glowing numbers, and Giorno has yet to join you in bed. You have a feeling that you know where to find him.

Padding softly to the door of his office and knocking twice, he calls for you to enter.

It’s clear that he wasn’t expecting to see you at all, much less clad only in the thin fabric of your night shirt. It brushes against the tops of your thighs and you tug the hem down as you step into his office.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him.

“I understand,” he says. “I’m sure you’re confused about what happened earlier.”

You take a seat in the chair across from his desk.

“I do have a lot of questions,” you tell him. “I get that you didn’t really want to talk about it, but it’s keeping me up. And kind of, uh, freaking me out a little bit.”

Giorno takes a deep breath. “It’s…difficult to explain,” he begins. “I suppose it was inevitable that you would learn about it eventually, but I don’t know if it will bring you any comfort to hear an explanation.”

“Giorno,” you nearly whine, and his expression brightens at the sound of his name on your lips. It isn’t something he’s had the pleasure of hearing often. It isn’t often that you seek him out willingly for a conversation, either.

“I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it. Can you just tell me what happened? Please?”

He looks at you with a torn expression and says nothing. You know he doesn’t like denying you anything, but his desire to please you is second only to his need to keep you under his careful control.

“I won’t bother you about it again,” you add. “I just—I really need you to help me make sense of this.”

You need him, you said. You know that you’ve won when his shoulders slump the tiniest bit, and he lets out a long breath. Giorno takes a pen from his desk and holds it up for you see. That energy permeates the air again, the one that you know but can’t quite place, and before your eyes the pen begins to warp and twist into something else. A stem pinched between his fingers, a pale pink bud growing and unfurling into petals at the top. He places it into your hand. It’s a flower. Delicate and beautiful where only moments ago it was mechanical steel.

Giorno smiles at your awestruck expression.

“This is my ability. I can create any living thing out of inanimate objects.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “You can make anything?”

“Nearly anything,” he says, pleased at your rare lightheartedness. “Do you have any requests?”

You hum quietly in thought, still thumbing absentmindedly at the flower between your fingers.

“What about…a frog?” you ask, your expression open and hopeful.

It occurs to you that this is one of the only positive interactions you’ve had with him yet. Giorno is basking in this moment before you, clearly trying to mask how pleased he is with his usual composed demeanor. He plucks another pen from his desk and that same energy permeates the air again. It cuts through your mood like a knife, shocking you back into focus. You remember why you came here. There’s something wrong with all of this, and you’re going to find out why.

The pen becomes a frog in Giorno’s palm, and he motions for you to give him your hand. You swallow hard and hold it out to him, schooling your face into an expression that’s as relaxed as you can manage. You want him in a good mood. You want him answering your questions.

He places the frog gently in your waiting palm, where it settles into the warmth of your skin. It’s real, but your appreciation for the moment has been soured by the reminder of what you have to find out.

“It’s cute,” you say, and Giorno smiles at your praise.

“You made an excellent choice,” Giorno says. “I’m partial to frogs myself.”

You don’t know if you’ve seen him looking so hopeful in all the time you’ve been here.

“How do you do it?” you ask. “Is it like…magic?”

Giorno laughs quietly and you feel almost like a child for saying it.

“It’s not quite magic,” he says. “Although you’re not that far off. It’s more like—well, it comes from my soul.”

“Your soul?” you ask, not quite following him.

“Yes,” he nods. “It’s my spirit, you could say. The manifestation of my will. It has the ability to create life, and if there’s ever anything you want to see, you’re welcome to ask me for it.”

Giorno poses it as an offer to you, but you hear it for what it is. A request. Please come to me. Please talk to me. Please smile and laugh with me again. What a breathe of fresh of air this would have been, a break from the boredom and anxiety of your days, if you hadn’t just begun to put the pieces together. Giorno’s spirit has powers.

“So, if your spirit does all this, is it kind of like a ghost?” you ask.

“You could say it’s something like that,” Giorno says. “You can’t see it, but it’s been here each time I’ve used it for you.”

A spirit that you can’t see. A spirit with magical powers. You remember every night that you’ve been here, every night that you’ve felt haunted in the space of your own dreams, that lingering, otherworldly, familiar feeling following you into your waking hours.

You remember a voice like Giorno’s and piercing eyes standing over you. A spirit. Giorno’s spirit.

You must look like you’ve well and truly seen a ghost, and you suppose you have. Giorno’s expression falls as he senses the change in your mood. He calls your name softly.

“Is something wrong?”

You can’t be near him anymore. You place the frog on the table and stand, the flower falling somewhere at your feet.

“Sorry. I’m going back to bed,” you say, and as you whisk yourself away you hear his dim voice calling out to you in confusion.

You can’t go back to the bedroom. Can’t lay down and sleep where you’ve been watched—stalked—night after night by this thing that has haunted you ever since you were brought here. Your legs bring you to a guest room, sterile and unlived in, and you drop to the floor against the pristinely made bed. Knees to your chest, bare thighs prickling in the cool air.

This is a nightmare. A waking, living nightmare. You can’t let yourself fall asleep again, where that thing will be there, waiting for you as always. You imagine opening your eyes and finding yourself back in the void, with nothing but the presence of a monster you now know is real. You cannot. You will not. You have to stay awake.

You sit in the dark room until your exhausted body begins to betray you. How long has it been since you slept? Really slept? You sit until you begin to nod off and then you stand, and pace, and crouch with your head in your hands. Anything to stay awake.

You feel, for a moment, that oppressive energy filling the room again, but there is nothing there. You wait, and it fades, and you don’t know if your sleep deprived mind has finally begun to unravel or if that thing has finally begun following you outside of your dreams.

—

Giorno isn’t surprised when, by the time he finally retires for the night, he doesn’t see you in bed. Normally he insists on you sharing his room, for your own safety, of course. He can’t risk leaving you unattended all night. Tonight, however…his gut tells him it would not be wise to search you out. No matter how much he wants to take you by your shoulders and have you explain what that was all about.

He folds himself under the blankets and falls into a fitful sleep.

He dreams about you. Or rather, he sees you and himself, living your lives together, as if watching a film play out before him. There’s a tug on his soul. What is his stand up to?

He sees you walking with him in his gardens. Chatting to him about the flowers you pass and the care you’d done for them that morning. You look happy. Not in the way you were before—before he brought you here—but in a way that approaches it.

Like a sixth sense, Giorno is suddenly aware of his stand’s presence somewhere near him. The scene fades away from him like a tape being rewound, and then it rebuilds itself around him, different now.

He sees you crying in the bedroom, storming into the bathroom and shutting the door behind you. It doesn’t have a lock, but he knows you would be flicking it if it did.

“I’m doing this for your safety,” Giorno watches himself tell you through the door. Does he always look this tired? “I promise you, everything I’ve done is for your benefit.”

You sob quietly behind the door, and the world breaks down and rebuilds again.

He sees you and himself seated at a table in a restaurant. A public venue, where you shift nervously in your seat. Giorno places his hand over yours and you don’t pull away.

“Are you all right?” he asks quietly. “We can always go home if this is too much for you, carina.”

You shake your head and fluster. “No! No, it’s ok. I think I need to—I mean, I just have to get used to it. Being out here again.”

Giorno watches himself nearly flinch, and feels the same pang in his own chest at the understanding that he’s made you so afraid of something so normal. A restaurant with people in it. People who aren’t him. You curl your fingers into his and give him a shy smile.

“And I want to be here with you,” you say.

The world breaks down, the world builds up. Giorno catches sight of his stand over his shoulder, and calls out to it in the chaos.

“Why are you showing me this?”

His stand meets his eyes for a moment, and then the world is rebuilt.

He sees you sitting across from him at the dinner table, pointedly looking anywhere but at his face. Looking like you could start crying in a second.

“I’m sorry,” he tells you. “I’ll take you outside as soon as I have the time, but you know I can’t allow you out alone when you’re acting like this.”

You don’t answer.

Breaking down, building up.

He sees you sipping mocha from a mug he raises to your lips. You, cursing at him and declaring your hatred of him. You, sweaty and flushed beneath him. You, turning your back on him.

You. Bloody and broken.

Giorno has seen enough.

He wakes drenched in sweat. Sheets stick to his skin as he hauls himself up to sit on the bed, and he turns to face the window where his stand is illuminated by the pale moonlight.

“What was that?” he asks, nearly out of breath. It does not respond.

“What was all of that? Why would you show me this?”

The stand does not reply. It knows, and Giorno knows, that he already has the answer. That these are just a fraction of the countless outcomes of your lives together, his deepest desires, his greatest fears, and somewhere in between, the choices that lead him there. His stand watches him. Quiet.

“I know,” Giorno says. “I already know what’s at stake. I’m going to fix all of this, I just need time.”

The stand watches him. It doesn’t need to speak—it doesn’t ever speak to him—but Giorno knows in his soul what’s being communicated between the two of them.

Don’t fuck this up for either of us.

Giorno throws the blankets from his body and takes a hair tie from your nightstand, imbuing it with the form of a butterfly and following it out the door. He leaves his stand in the room behind him. He needs to find you, now.

Everything he wants and everything he fears has been laid out before him, as vivid as anything else he has lived and breathed through.

One of these outcomes is destined for truth, and Giorno has never failed to reach a goal once set in front of him.

The butterfly comes to rest on the door to a guest room down the hall.

Giorno takes a long, steadying breath, and knocks.

#said I would keep the requests to under 1k and look at me now #clown shoes tied and ready to go #giorno x reader #giorno giovanna x reader #yandere giorno #giorno #giorno giovanna #yandere giorno x reader #jjba x reader #yandere jjba x reader #my works.ll #giorno.ll #jjba.ll

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supraveng · 2 years ago

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Princess of Asgardia

Summary: You are Thor & Loki’s younger sister, unfortunately you are forced to find a husband...royalty AU

Warnings: language

Pairings: Reader x James Bucky Barnes, Reader x Clint Barton, Reader x John Walker

Square Filled: Unrequited Love

Word Count: 6237 Main Masterlist

A/N: @avengersbingo my first and long over due entry to Avengers Bingo Rd 4

Sneaking out was always easier than sneaking back in, you tried your best to make it home before sunrise and today you almost made it. Of course, luck wasn’t on your side and you knew the staff would be around so you had to decide whether to trek back through the hidden passageways or tiptoe through the main rooms of the castle without being found out. At this time of day, neither was a great choice, but you quietly took off your shoes as you slipped through the main entrance to the palace and held your head high, as a princess should, as you passed the guards.

No one said a word to you, most likely knowing that tattling on the princess of Asgardia at this time of day would only become more of an issue for them, putting Odin or Frigga in a bad mood first thing in the morning would be no good for anyone. You began to relax, turning down the final hallway to your room, only to be greeted by your mother and your personal security, Brunnhilde, waiting for you.

“Mother, what a pleasant surprise first thing in the morning” you were trying your best to avoid any questioning on your whereabouts.

“Well, my dear, I wouldn’t be here if you were here when I came to you last night” she raised an eyebrow challenging me “and before you start formulating some plot in your head, I also asked the guards to notify me of your return. And yet all night, not a single person in the palace knew where you were.”

You knew you were caught, she knew you were caught and yet, you couldn’t find it in your heart to concede, “well then, it seems that I am once again the Hide & Seek victor.” Turning and entering your room, knowing the conversation wasn’t over, but you were too tired to argue with anyone right now.

“Before you even think about sleeping, Nebula will be here momentarily to prepare your bath, and I expect you to look presentable for breakfast with your father” you looked at your mother stunned, it’s as if she could read your mind.

“Why would father want to have breakfast with me when he has your beautiful face to admire?” Unfortunately that didn’t work as you had hoped, your mother just laughed as she walked out of the room with Brunnhilde, reminding you that your flattery will get you nowhere.

You took your time getting ready before heading to breakfast with your family, normally you wouldn't want to disappoint your parents but you had been up all night and there was little you could do to make yourself move any faster. Somehow you managed to make it to the dining hall just before your father, so you take that as a win, even if you hadn’t been able to sit before rising to greet him.

“Well, isn’t it nice to have the whole family together, it’s been so long” Odin looked around the table and seemed happy to have you all gathered together. You were immediately suspicious and looked to your brothers, trying to figure out what was going on.

Loki appeared to be as concerned as you were, but Thor seemed to have his normal idiot smile on his face and seemed more interested in the food being served than anyone at the table, typical. Rolling your eyes, you immediately grabbed your coffee mug, needing caffeine to make it through the morning in one piece.

“Since we are all here, why don’t you tell our children about the exciting news” your mother smiled around the table before picking up her tea. Loki immediately looked at you, you both knew something was going on and not liking it one bit.

“Right, of course my dear. We are hosting a gala, inviting all the surrounding kingdoms. Oh and my darling daughter, you will have a new security detail, he will be starting this afternoon after he is finished with Quill. And I know I don't need to remind you to be on your best behavior” your father eyed you with a small smirk, knowing that a suggestion to behave was pointless for him to make but decided to do so anyway.

You were doing your best to hide your emotions that were triggered by his statement, but watching Loki smirk in your direction while he ate only angered you more. “Thank you father, but Brunnhilde is excellent and I’ve grown quite fond of her. So, really, there’s no need for someone new” you smiled at your parents, holding your breath that your attempt would work, and hearing Loki snicker at you didn’t help your nerves.

“Be that as it may, the Valkyrie have important training and she is needed there. Don’t worry, it’s already done, you will be well taken care of and not cause any problems" with that, your father rose from his seat, all of you following suit and heading out of the dining hall.

You needed a few hours of sleep before worrying about your new security detail and how to get out of the palace by yourself. After your nap you decided a ride on your horse, Chocolate, was the best way to enjoy the day, so you were dressed and heading to the stables. Riding around the back pasture behind the palace was not your ideal choice, but if your parents found out you were out again without security, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

The ride helped to clear your head a little, maybe a change in your security detail wouldn’t be so bad, you adored Brunnhilde, but would much rather have her as a friend to celebrate with rather than a watchdog, always on duty, never having fun. Taking your time to make it back to the palace, you notice your brother approaching and roll your eyes as you try to walk past.

“First day with new security and you decide to hide, tsk tsk sister”.

Rolling your eyes at him trying to irritate you more than you already were, “really Lokes, you of all people should be helping me here, not making matters worse!” You were toe to toe with him, and even if he still was several inches taller than you, you weren’t intimidated by him in the least.

He merrily scoffed at you “how am I making anything worse? I’m simply pointing out the error of your ways, I’m trying to help, unlike Thor” the last part muttered under his breath and made you freeze.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough” and just like that he had disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

You were debating if you should take the time to bathe Chocolate yourself or allow someone at the stables to handle it, now that you heard Thor was being himself more than usual, you didn’t have a choice and left the stables to investigate on what could have happened in the few hours you were away.

Making your way back into the palace, you headed for the kitchen first, just a small snack needed to tide you over until dinner. The staff was never surprised by your arrival, even if they did feel the need to bow, you always felt more like one of them than your royal lineage. Maybe that’s why all these changes were making you irritated, you knew what was expected of you, but you still hoped that your requests would be considered, marrying for love rather than obligation or convenience, it shouldn’t be too hard to ask for.

Heading back toward the throne room, you were stopped by Peter Quill, your father’s personal secretary. “Your Highness, I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You have a new security detail that you need to meet. Will you please follow me?”.

Deciding to get this encounter out of the way as quickly as possible you followed Peter to the throne room where you found your parents chatting with a rather handsome man.

"Ah, there she is, come daughter, you need to get acquainted with your new security detail. And remember, you are to be by her side at all times'' your father stated as you approached.

"This is Clint Barton, he will be your personal security going forward" Peter tells you as you smile at the new face.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Sir Barton, and father don't scare the man, he didn't mean at all times, just outside of the palace" you smile trying to make the encounter a bit more lighthearted.

"I know what I meant child, until you can prove that you won't be sneaking out unaccompanied at all hours of the day, then Clint will be with you at all times" his tone left no room for argument, but you were about to try and plead your case only for Peter to whisk the king away for something or other, you weren't really listening.

Sighing, you tried to give a genuine smile but felt too embarrassed to put any effort into it. Before you could decide what to do next you heard Thor's booming voice from the doorway, "and there is my beautiful sister, we've been searching for you".

As he approached, you noticed a man trailing behind him, he wasn't as tall as Thor but had the same arrogant demeanor about him and you could only hope he had nothing to do with what Loki had mentioned.

"This is my dear friend, John Walker" Thor patted the man on his shoulder as he pushed him closer to you.

"It's actually Duke John Walker" he immediately corrected but pretended to be humble to the title.

You were instantly irritated and wanted to run and hide but instead you smiled politely "Sir Walker".

At this point, the nicest thing you could do was to simply acknowledge the man, since it's not his fault your idiot brother dragged him around looking for you.

"Why don't the two of you go to the sitting room and I'll have the staff bring you tea" at that point you might actually ring Thor's neck if he opened his mouth again.

"Wonderful idea, Princess, shall we?" John held out his arm and you thought the day couldn't get any worse until you remembered your new, and very attractive, security that began to follow behind you towards John.

Instead of saying anything, you took his arm and lead him out of the room and down the hall. He immediately started commenting on the decor and how it differed from his estate, was this guy serious? But of course you could only smile, knowing speaking your mind would only cause a problem for you.

As you turned to the sitting room, John finally noticed Clint following the two of you and spoke up. "Thanks for the escort, but the princess and I will be spending tea alone" his arrogant and entitled tone rubbed you the wrong way but you were curious as to how Clint would react.

"As her personal security, she will not leave my sight" Clint told him as he made his way to the corner of the room with no intention of leaving. Realizing this could very quickly escalate into something ugly, you decided to intervene

"Sir Barton is very dedicated to his craft, so why do we sit and chat, I doubt we will even notice his presence" you motioned to the sofas and chairs in the center of the room.

Opting for a chair in order to leave as much space as possible between you and your brothers friend, you sat and waited for him to choose his seat.

"Of course, anything for you princess" he smiled at you and it nearly made you ill. You were raised to know exactly what to expect from people and what they expected from you, but moments like this, you had hoped you could just freely speak your mind and put entitled diplomats in their place.

John immediately got comfortable on the sofa next to you and began telling you all about himself. What a surprise. He drones on for what felt like hours. You were only slightly relieved when Anya arrived with a tray of tea and cakes.

"Thank you, it looks wonderful. Can we get another serving set for Sir Barton?" you motioned to Clint in the the corner as Anya nodded before slipping out of the room.

Stirring your tea you heard John scoff and looked at him questioningly. "Is something amiss?" trying your best to remain calm, you could guess what caused his reaction by the few minutes you had been around him so far today.

"Why are you thanking one servant and offering tea to the other?" You nearly laughed at his utter disrespect to another human solely for the reason he had a title and they didn't.

"Well, first of all, they are staff not servants and secondly, they are human beings. Everyone deserves kindness". You are looking at Clint when you make the final statement and see the slightest hint of a smile.

"Oh princess, how naïve you are" John chuckles and you immediately tense up as you watch him mock you.

At this point the smart thing to do would be to stay quiet and remove yourself before you threw a punch, but today was not that day. Glaring at the Duke, you decide to unpack everything on him, why the hell not?

"Tell me Duke, do you know my name?" That instantly caused him to quiet down before scoffing,

"of course I do".

"Just wondering, since you haven't used it since we met. It seems that you only have used my title" taking a bite of the cake on your plate, anxiously awaiting his response.

He didn't respond right away, presumably trying to recall your name but apparently came up blank. "Your position is power, princess. I acknowledge and respect that about you" he seems smug, as if he had just given you a compliment. Was he expecting you to thank him, boy was he going to be disappointed.

"My position seems to be more important to you than it is to me" you knew challenging him wasn't the best idea but you were hoping for him to get frustrated and storm out. "So tell me John, what is my name? Just wondering if you actually remembered it".

He looked shocked and you decided to push him further, you just wanted to get him to leave.

"Do you usually have trouble remembering names? What's the name of your mistress?" this time you waited for him to respond while sipping your tea.

"I beg your pardon? What sort of question is that?".

"Which one? You haven't answered a single one of my inquiries". Holding his eye contact was not nearly as difficult as you thought it might be.

"Why would you ask if I have a mistress?"

You shake your head "I asked her name, or do you frequent brothels?"

At this point he was turning red and completely flustered. "I have never been so insulted in all my days. Please give Thor my regards" as he stood, gave a pathetic excuse of a bow and stormed out of the room.

Humming happily you continued drinking your tea before turning to Clint, "you are welcome to sit and finish your tea. The chamomile tastes nice with the lavender shortbread"

Clint simply nodded before sitting in the middle of the sofa, rather than closest to you as John had. You weren't sure if striking up a conversation with him was the best approach but we're relieved by Anya returning to check on the tea.

She smirked at you the moment she entered the room, "scared him away did you, your highness?" Anya had been like an aunt to you since you could remember and knew you better than most,

"it seems I have, he was much more fragile than I expected. The tea is wonderful as always, it's a shame he missed the opportunity to enjoy it properly" you did your best to remain calm but a giggle escaped and Anya simply rolled her eyes.

Turning to Clint she whispered, making sure to be loud enough for you to hear "was she awful or did he deserve it?"

You held your breath, not sure how Clint had taken your encounter with John, you had yet to have a conversation with him and wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Walker's disrespect shouldn’t have allowed him into the palace, let alone a private meeting with Princess Y/N”

Relief came over you by his response, not only did he agree with Walker's attitude, but he used her given name. Wondering if it was just his nature or if he was actually agreeing with your reaction to Walker’s behavior, you weren’t sure, but you felt at ease with your new security, more than you had anticipated was possible in such a short amount of time.

“Well, I am going to try and get a nap in before dinner, thank you for everything Anya” smiling, you turned toward Clint. “Please feel free to stay and finish, I can assure you, I will be in my quarters until dinner”

He stood almost immediately, making you believe he didn’t trust you at all, until he spoke “I’d like to make sure you make it safely, seeing as Walker may be lurking about” then he opened the door for you with a smile.

Making your way back to your room seemed to take longer than usual but maybe because you were enjoying Clint’s company. He didn’t say much, and neither did you, but the quiet between you was comfortable and you decided that maybe the new security detail was a better idea than you had initially thought.

Once you were well rested, you dressed for dinner and were surprised to find that Clint was just outside your door when you opened it. The sight immediately put a smile on your face and he offered his arm to escort you to the dining room.

“I hope you weren’t waiting here all this time, that must have been quite boring” He simply smiled,

“I will do whatever is needed to keep you safe”. The simple comment made your heart skip a beat. You had never met someone so genuinely kind and handsome at the same time. Reaching the dining hall seemed to happen faster than you wished, but you entered the room, seeing you were the first to arrive, you wanted to prolong your time alone with Clint.

“So tell me, is you being assigned to me a punishment for improper behavior?” you smirked. Clint merely chuckled under his breath, and made his way to stand at his post during the meal, as you made your way to the table and immediately enjoyed your first glass of wine with a smile on your face.

Dinner nearly passed as any other until your father asked about your visitor.

“Oh yes, my dear friend John, how did that go? Will you be seeing him again?” Thor responded with a large grin on his face.

You simply stared at your brother, curious as to how he could lead an army into battle, and yet not see the true nature of the people he was closest to.

“The visit was fine, father. And no Thor, I won’t be seeing him. I would appreciate it if you kept your mind on your strengths on the battlefield and not match making. Your dear friend John, is nothing more than a title chasing misogynist, and I only hope his blatant depravity does not corrupt you as well” trying your best to seem unbiased while leaving no room to question your distrust of the man you were forced to have tea with against your will.

The gasp your mother had made gave you the relief you needed in that moment. Her simple expression of shock let you know that John Walker would not be welcomed back.

Thor on the other hand seemed confused, “did you not find him handsome?” Looking at Loki for some clarity as to what that had to do with the situation only made you ask for more wine in order to endure the rest of the meal.

Thankfully your mother and father took over the conversation with Thor and what sort of man you should be introduced to, allowing you to somewhat enjoy your meal. Not really paying attention to much of the rest of the conversation, you waited as patiently as you could for the dinner to end.

Once your father rose from the table, you were dismissed and made your way to the back gardens, with Clint’s accompaniment of course. Knowing you were to find your future spouse in the next few weeks was the only thing consuming your mind. If all of your suitor options were as dreadful as John Walker, you were certain to rather die a spinster than commit to anyone.

The following days were filled with your mother fussing over the details of the gala, the invitations and food preparations as well as you needing a gown. Thankfully, Clint was a better companion than you had anticipated and helped make the dreadful tasks so much better. Small talk came easily and you felt as though your life had been missing Clint this whole time and was now, finally, how things should be.

The night of the ball was no different, Clint by your side, making you feel secure and protected from anything and everything around you. Once your entrance was announced, something you utterly detested, you slowly made you way around greeting guests.

When you spotted John Walker, you took a deep breath before heading in his direction, Clint immediately stopped you. Without saying a word, but giving a pointed look, it was as if you were reading each other's minds.

Raising your head high you turned and were immediately approached by Lord Barnes, bringing a smile to your face.

"Princess Y/N, would you do me the honor of a dance" his smile nearly took your breath away.

"Of course, James, it would be my pleasure". You had always found Lord James Barnes handsome, a blind person would, but he was also the kindest and strongest man from the neighboring country of Brooklyn.

Dancing with James was wonderful, for such a large man, he was rather graceful on the dance floor. However, you knew a marriage between the two of you would never happen, as he was very much in love with Prince Steven. And against your better judgment you inquired on how the two were doing.

“Well, Steve is courting Duchess Margaret” James advised with a strain in his tone.

“Oh James, I had no idea, I’m incredibly regretful for mentioning him” you attempted to show your empathy, but you really had no idea what he was going through.

“Nonsense, I knew he would need to find a queen in order to take his rightful place on the throne. That is why I am here, I too am in need of a lady to carry on the Barnes lineage” James kissed your knuckles and bowed as the song ended.

Initially you were shocked by his comment, but you supposed that there were certain expectations that no one could avoid. Surprisingly, the remainder of the ball was enjoyable, you danced most of the evening. Meeting new people was a normal part of the monarchy, and although most seemed nice enough, no one captured your attention enough to allow yourself to be courted.

The next several weeks were more of the same, entertaining gentlemen from all of the surrounding kingdoms, making their intentions known to almost everyone they came across. As flattering as it was, there was not a single one you felt any sort of connection to, luckily, during this time you also had Clint to keep you company.

The two of you spent as much time outside of the castle as possible, riding horses and he occasionally provided you with lessons on archery, as it was his specialty. All too soon you were back in another family dinner centered around your possible suitors and who they would allow to court you properly.

“With all due respect father, I believe I should be the one to determine whom I allow to court me. It is, after all, my future we are discussing, my opinion should be the determining factor” smiling as best you could while trying your best to remain civil.

“Of course, we understand that, don’t we dear” your mother quickly spoke up before your father could make the situation so much worse. Odin sighed heavily, thoroughly exhausted with the situation still taking place, and did nothing to hide it.

“My dear, your future and happiness are the most important, however, I feel you may be quick to judge and I don’t want you to miss out your best option solely for the fact you think someone better might come along” your father immediately looks at your mother for confirmation on his statement, and you did not miss the small nod of approval she provided.

“Thank you father, and I promise to make a wise choice for myself and the good of the family” you responded, trying your best to appease him “however long that may take”. You smiled as politely as possible, you had no intent of choosing someone just to get it over with.

That evening your mother came to your chambers to assure you that your father only wanted what was best for you.

“My dear, remember that love, although incredibly important to a successful marriage, may not be there from the very start” the queen smiled as if that made any sense to you at all.

“How am I to marry for love if there isn’t love there?” you questioned immediately.

“Well my lovely daughter, a friendship built on trust and respect can turn into love, eventually. Look at your father and I, our marriage was arranged by our parents. We built a friendship first, it wasn’t until just before you were conceived that we truly fell in love with one another” she spoke with a smile on her face of the fondness of the marriage she had endured for all these years.

You were shocked to learn that their love story didn’t begin until after both Thor and Loki were born. When you were about to question the secrets she just revealed, she stopped you immediately.

“I know what you are thinking, my duty as queen came before all else. Our marriage was an agreement, and bringing heirs to the throne were our first priorities for the kingdom. During that time, your father showed me the man he truly was, through his respect and devotion to me and our children. Along the way, we both fell in love, and love produced you. My life has produced more happiness than I could have ever asked for, and only with your father by my side.” she kissed your head before leaving you for the night.

Presumably to sleep, but after that revelation, you were sure if you could possibly close your eyes without your brain running in every direction.

The next morning was much the same as every other day, except your mind kept reminding you, trust & respect, trust & respect. Knowing you wouldn’t be good company at the dining table, you had your meal brought to you in your room. Deciding the best way to get all the thoughts out of your head, you grabbed your journal and began to write.

By morning, you had a better idea of how to navigate your next steps with your options in courting. The day had progressed like any other, but you were definitely more astute to your interactions with Clint. You needed to know that the trust and respect was reciprocated before approaching him and your offer of marriage.

The more you spend time with him, you realized it had been much more than just trust or respect, you had begun looking forward to your time together, especially when it was only the two of you. By the end of the week, you had come to the realization that you were falling in love with Clint, and that excitement could barely be contained.

It was after a late dinner with the family, when Clint was escorting you to your chambers that you decided to address your feelings for him.

“Would you mind staying a moment, I have something I wanted to speak with you about” you motioned for Clint to follow you into the room.

He merely nodded and followed you, looking a little concerned when you began pacing the room. Taking a deep breath, you turned toward him and smiled, there was no reason to be nervous, you knew Clint and that he would be kind to you, no matter what.

“Since you’ve become my security, I’ve become rather fond of you,” you paused briefly to gauge his reaction, only to see the same stoic face you’ve grown to love.

Giggling to yourself you continue “you have become a dear friend with whom I trust and respect, but I’ve recently realized I am falling in love with you.” Seeing that his expression hadn’t changed, you decided to lay everything out to him in order to move things along as quickly as possible.

“This whole finding a proper suitor has been daunting, but it’s because I’ve been looking in the wrong place. You’ve been here, with me through all of it….and I know it’s not customary for a princess to make such a scandalous request, but I know, that if we married, we could both be very happy for the rest of our lives” you were smiling at Clint, waiting for him to break out the charming smile that he saves only for you, but his expression hadn’t changed while processing everything you had just divulged.

“Y/N….I can’t marry you” barely above a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear.

Rushing to him and grabbing his hands in yours, doing your best to reassure him “we can marry, my parents only want me happy, your status doesn’t matter”.

He looked deep in your eyes, giving you a small but sad smile, “it’s not that, I can’t marry you as I am already married”.

The anger at his blatant lie sprang up in you immediately, stepping away from him and dropping his hands as you crossed your arms over your chest. “You can just tell me the truth, you don’t need to lie to me” trying to sound strong but feeling completely defeated.

“I assure you, I wouldn’t lie to you, and especially not something this important. Laura and I have been married nearly 5 years now, and we are expecting our first child in a few months” he calmly explained but it only confused you.

“Clint, we have been friends for months, you have never once mentioned a wife or child on the way. You needn’t spare my feelings, you can just say that I’m not what you want, I can handle the truth.” Shaking your head you began pacing the room again.

“Y/N, it is true, I don’t discuss my personal life at work, but Laura expecting was what made me leave the active infantry and work in the castle.”

And that is when it hit you, this was a job for him. He didn’t even consider you a friend that he could confide in, you were just a job to him.

Your embarrassment was something you had never felt before, you couldn't even face him to ask him to leave your chambers. The only thing you could do was walk into your private bathroom, locking the door behind you, before attempting to draw your own bath.

The running water had hopefully drowned out the sound of your cries, once the sobbing had started, you weren’t sure you would be able to make it stop. You weren’t sure how long you sat there before the bathroom door was forced open and your mother came in, immediately pulling you into her arms while the maids completed getting the bath ready.

Once you had calmed down, your mother assisted you in getting in the bath and washing your hair. It had been so long since the two of you had quiet moments like this, and it was exactly what you needed while your heart was breaking. She never asked any questions, only took care of her youngest child as only a mother could, even cuddling with you in bed until you woke the next morning.

“My darling” she kissed your forehead as she stroked your back “you are the strongest woman I have ever met, you needn’t make any decisions today. We can stay here all day, take our meals here, read every book in the library, whatever you would like” her smile reassuring you that everything would turn out fine.

“Thank you mother, but I would rather be alone today, if that is alright” giving her the best smile you could muster. “Of course, whatever you need. I will have your meals sent in. I do have some things to take care of today.” Stopping her as she made her way to the door, “Mother, can you also have them bring me some paper and a quill? I have a letter I would like to write.”

As the sun was setting, your letter was written, the Asgardian seal embossed to it and ready to be delivered to its recipient. The only person who had come into your chambers today was your mother, the queen not allowing anyone near you was the most helpful in making your decision.

The next morning you exited your room, with a new determination, and a completely different outlook on your future, one that surprised even yourself. As expected, Clint was standing guard outside of your room, as you made your way toward the dining hall, but was wise enough to not say anything to you, allowing you to handle the situation you had put the two of you in.

Reaching the room seemed to take longer with no conversation, but it was for the best that you move past this with as much dignity as you could. Once he opened the door, you turned to him, he looked expectant and almost hopeful that your comradery would go back to how it had always been, but that was impossible now.

Instead you handed him the letter you had written yesterday. “Can you please have one of the palace footmen deliver this today? It is quite urgent” you gave him a small smile.

“Of course Y/N” he nodded, offering you a small smile as well.

You could have left it at that, but decided to make one final statement to him that would solidify your decision, so while he was still within earshot you replied “thank you Sir Barton”.

His shoulders immediately sagged when he realized you were putting up a barrier between the two of you that hadn’t been there since his first day in the palace. He wanted to say something, explain himself, but he knew nothing would undo the damage he caused by not being honest from the beginning and allowing you a false sense of hope, something he hadn’t intended but was nonetheless solely on his shoulders. As deemed by his position, he merely bowed at your request and made his way out of the dining hall.

The following day the castle was buzzing with excitement before you had even finished getting ready for the day. Not sure what was happening, you sent your maid to find out as much detail as you could before you even allowed her to pick out your wardrobe for the day. Once she made her way back to your chambers you demanded every last detail you could get.

“Well Princess, it seems there is a suitor here, demanding an audience with the King and Queen. We all know that only means one thing, he is bypassing courting you properly and is arranging an engagement with your parents!” she was shocked that any man would attempt such a thing, your strong willed reputation was known throughout the realms.

The smile on your face grew as she fastened your corset and you began picking up your jewelry. “As long as it’s Lord Barnes, that is not an issue” hearing her gasp at your comment made you begin to giggle.

“How do you know it’s Lord Barnes, I was saving that for the shocking reveal”

“Oh, I apologize for thwarting your plan. But Lord Barnes is here because I summoned him” you winked at her as she finished pinning your hair back.

Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor, “you summoned a suitor? Is that allowed?” whispering to make the innocent question seem scandalous.

“My dear, as Prince of Asgardia, the only way I will ever get what I want, is by taking it” you stood and made your way out of the room, not even glancing at Clint who was at his post as usual. Making your way to the throne room, you tried your best to walk at your usual pace, but today you had a mission to accomplish.

#avengers au #avengers bingo #avengers unrequited love #avengers fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #avengers reader insert #marvel reader insert #clint barton x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Thor Odinson #loki of asgard

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of-twilight-and-moonshadow · 2 years ago

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Always There - Marcel Barthel x Reader

Figured I’d get the Marcel one out of my way while I could. I’ve been having some German feels for a while (who can blame me though? )

I do apologize now for any INCORRECT translations. I do NOT know German well enough, I know about 5-6 words and that’s it. (Yes, No, Hello, Love, Ambulance and Hospital. The necessities)

Y/N = Your name

If you don’t like Ember Moon, Kacy or Kayden, feel free to think up your own NXT roommate situation for a TakeOver event. That’s where I thought this would be at -shrug-

EDITED IN: Original Tag List @starwithaheart @shedevill22 @amourseculier @regalbanshee

Tagging those who Requested Marcel! @barthelsimperium

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Letting out a deep breath, I glanced over at the digital clock next to the bed I was sharing with Ember. The red light read 3:29. Frowning, I looked at my other two roommates, Kacey and Kayden, who were also fast asleep much like Ember.

“So unfair…” I sighed.

This was now night three of no sleep. I knew I had to do something—if it kept going, Hunter was bound to realize, and not only that I could accidentally hurt someone in the ring. What could I do though?

Back home, I’d get up and make myself busy—but I didn’t want to wake up my friends.

Friends…

“Just find me, liebe. I don’t care what the time is!”

Marcel’s words came crashing into my fore-thought, causing me to purse my lips. I couldn’t actually just stroll to his room and wake him up at this ungodly hour… could I? Ember would never let me live it down, if she found out I went to his room this late at night. She’s the only one I have ever told my feelings towards. The only one who knew I loved Marcel, my impeccable German.

On screen, he was cold, cunning, methodical and egotistical. Behind the screen though? Marcel Barthel was the funniest, kindest and most considerate guy I had ever known. Our friendship had started out a bit oddly, as somehow his suitcase had ended up in the women’s locker room and I, of course, was the one to return it to him. He was clearly confused and embarrassed, but thankful all the same. I had cracked a joke that if he wanted to spend time with me all he had to do was ask—and upon hearing the chuckle from Fabian, I quickly excused myself in embarrassment, barely hearing Marcel speak to Fabian as I left.

“Lach nicht uber sie!” ((ts: Don’t laugh at them))

Later that night, Marcel had found me backstage, quickly taking a seat beside me and leaning back slightly.

“You said if I wanted to spend time, all I need to do was ask,” he explained, causing me to go red from embarrassment.

“I-it was a joke… You don’t have to—”

“You may have been joking, but I’m not, Kleiner.” ((ts: little one))

“I…. have no idea what that means.”

He only laughed in response, shaking his head slightly, promising me,” I’ll teach you some words.”

I smiled at the memory, before glancing a risk at the clock once more.

3:36

Fuck it, I decided. Carefully as I could, I pushed back the covers and climbed out of the warm cocoon I had made. Grabbing my wallet on the way by the tv stand, I tiptoed to the door and as quietly as I could, opened the door and snuck out, closing it with a soft click behind me. Gnawing on my bottom lip as I walked up the steps to the floor above, I thought about how close Marcel was to me—how close in my heart he always was.

Holidays, bright and early (even despite time zone differences) we’d be the first to wish one another a happy holiday; happy birthday—new years. When we’d both be at an event, we’d seek the other one out.

Marcel hadn’t taught me the translation for liebe yet, but since he was always calling me it, I had decided to ask Fabian one night, when Marcel was off getting something to drink.

“Heh, I don’t think I should be the one to tell you, Principessa.” ((ts: Princess))

“Oh, come on—please? If you don’t I’ll just look it up online. C’mon Fabian, please?”

“Alright, alright—love,” Fabian answered, his eyes going over my shoulder for a second, before his voice lowered,” Liebe means love.”

Love.

Did it mean Marcel loved me the same way I did him? Probably not.

But it still made me feel happy, like I mattered to at least someone. Coming to a stop at room 329, I took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door.

Five seconds.

Ten seconds.

Twenty-five seconds.

Nothing.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and fighting the urge to just go back downstairs to my own room, I tentatively knocked once again, two short, soft bumps on the door.

Five seconds.

Ten—

The door opened slowly, catching me by surprise as I looked up from the floor. There before me stood a hooded-eyed, bed-headed Marcel, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. When he realized who it was, he seemed to wake up a bit.

“Liebe? Is everything In Ordnung?” ((ts: alright))

“Uh, yeah. No. It’s fine…. Uh… I just… you said to…” Everything I said was coming out jumbled, and I could see Marcel trying to make sense of it all,” Sorry I bothered you this late—I’ll just—sorry, go back to sleep—” I turned to walk away, but stopped short when I heard his voice call my name.

“Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, please, just—go back—”

“Hör auf, dich zu entschuldigen!” I heard Marcel snap, before his voice softened,” Komm schon, come.” ((ts: Stop apologizing / come on))

With uncertain steps, I slowly walked back over to his open door, shivers running down my spine when I felt his hand gently rest on my back, ushering me in at my own pace.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Marcel asked as he closed the door behind us.

I shook my head, unsure if he could even see it in the darkness of the room,” Sorry, I just—”

“Liebe—stop saying sorry.”

Without needing to see him, I knew there was a frown on his face.

“Sor–…..”

In the darkness, I heard him give a small sigh, before suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around me and pull me close to him,” I told you, you can come to me at times like this. There’s no need to apologize for it.”

“It’s just… it’s so late—or… early—I didn’t want to wake you up…”

“Don’t worry about that, okay? Come, make yourself comfortable.”

I felt his hand gently take my own and lead me towards the bed.

“W—what about Fabian? Will he—”

“Don’t worry about him, liebe,” Marcel gave a soft chuckle,” He’s a deep sleeper.” His hand left mine, and I could hear him get back into his bed.

Do I?

Don’t I?

“You won’t have a chance to get any sleep standing there, come on.” I heard him pat the space beside him and I was beyond grateful for the darkness in the room- otherwise he would be able to see how red my face was right now. Slowly, I peeled back the covers on the empty side and slid underneath, careful to not touch Marcel in anyway- which he must have noticed.

“I don’t bite, liebe.”

“Why do you call me that?” I blurted out before I could stop myself. I had to know—needed to know. Marcel grew quiet for a few moments and I feared he wouldn’t answer me, until I felt his hand gently creep over mine once more and slowly pull me towards him. Wordlessly, I felt him softly pull me as close to his body as possible, laying right beside him, my head on his bare chest.

“Because… Du bedeute mir die Welt…I love you…” I could hear the uncertainty and the hope in his statement, and I couldn’t help the smile the slowly grew on my face,” We’ll talk more tomorrow, liebe. For now… get some sleep.” ((ts: You mean the world to me))

Slowly nodding my head, I let my body relax into his embrace and before I knew it my eyes got heavy—and as I drifted off to sleep, I felt him press a gentle kiss to my forehead.

No more sleepless nights, no more uncertainty.

I was loved.

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