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tzimiscequeen-blog · 2 months ago

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In the Heart of the Flames Chapter 12

Synopsis: You wake up one morning a few days before the log pose resets to one of the worst days of your life. This leads to Wire and Heat seeing a darker side of you that you had hoped would never come out.

Additional Tags: AFABReader, She/Her Pronouns, mdni, 18+ only, dismemberment, death, allusion to torture

WC: 3300+

Available on AO3 (can't get it to link)

The next day Bea sent a response to your letter with the returning watch. She was so happy for you and understood if you couldn’t say good bye in person before you left. She mentioned that she had heard from Henry shortly after you had reached out to him, but nothing since then. She wasn’t worried though, with Oswald around he must have been taking extra precautions.

You figured out a game plan to clear out your stashes and the less known crew began to retrieve the items. You discussed bunk arrangements, but ultimately decided that you would stay in Heat’s room. All of your pre-Kid Pirates clothes could fit in a drawer of Heat’s dresser along with all of your new and old undergarments. There was a small alcove next to Heat’s bathroom that Killer easily added two rods to and you now had a closet to hang your new clothes.

You learned that Kid and Wire left the ship and returned with information on how you and Heat were drugged. Anne, the bartender was given the vials, then Oswald’s thugs threatened her family if she warned you or Heat. They were too dumb to tell her not to talk after the fact. She was still nervous to give up the information but her guilt got to her and gave in. They didn’t say what they did to her, but assured you she was still alive.

Over the next week and a half your stash got transferred to the Punk. You received a lot of “SMALL fortune my ass” when the majority of it was cataloged. They were able to get some of the furniture pieces sold to accommodate the actual supplies that they were also getting loaded. There were 2 empty smaller bunk rooms that had to be used for overflow.

_________________________________________________________________________

You awoke one morning a few days before the log pose was to reset to a lot of commotion on the deck of the ship. Heat was gone from the bed and you could hear Kid yelling orders at someone.

“You four, go get them and bring them here…did I fuckin stutter? They better be unharmed when you bring them aboard. GO!” he bellowed.

You had on your favorite unripped t-shirt of Heat’s and yawned as you headed barefoot towards the commotion.

“Captain, what the hell are you yelling about! Some people are still fucking sleeping,” you said playfully.

“Hey, songbird…I was gonna come get ya,” he looked down at you with a tense and almost sad look on his face. Your heart sank and you felt a pit in your stomach, immediately looking around for Heat and saw him on the other side of the deck with Wire next to him. You let out an audible sigh and choked back the tears that were about to flow. The two tall men were looking at something on one of the storage crates on the deck. Killer approached the two of you and addressed Kid.

“No one saw anything. We’ll have to figure out how they got on board,” Kil said.

“Guys, what’s going on. You’re scaring me,” you said as you headed towards Heat.

“Fuck…shit…Songb…” Kid got out before Heat noticed him talking and turned. All that could be heard after that was your ear piercing scream as you collapsed to your knees halfway across the deck.

Heat cleared the distance and wrapped you in his arms, as he ignored the pain his wounds gave him. He tried to shield you from what he had been looking at, but it was too late. Wire visibly winced at the sound of your pained bellows. Kid sat behind you and wrapped his coat around your shoulders. He was not good at emotions and comforted you the only way he knew how at the current moment since you were already in Heat’s arms.

On the crate were the severed heads of Henry and Toran, along with something else but you couldn’t see from your angle. Heat turned you away from looking at them and just held you while you screamed and sobbed into his chest. Wire took them along with the other things down to the brig. Killer and Papas began to bring the night crew to the med bay to get them tested for chemicals.

Both men waited until you calmed before they spoke.

“I assume the dark haired one was Henry,” Kid said quietly. You had never heard his voice so soft. You could tell there was something simmering beneath but he kept his rage barely under control.

“Yeah…” you confirmed as you turned out of Heat’s chest and looked to your captain.

“I sent crew to go check on Bea and the kids. Kil, Reck, Papas and I are gonna leave shortly to go meet them there in case they need the extra back up. I’m gonna move them to the ship so we can keep a more direct eye on them,” Kid explained as he stroked your cheek, wiping some of the tears away.

“We need to leave the island as soon as the log pose resets and get them to an island he has no control on,” you begged through tears.

“Don’t worry, love. We’ll make sure they are safe and Oswald pays for hurting you,” Heat said. His voice had a twinge of darkness you had never heard before.

“Let’s get you inside. I’ll be back with your family, safe and sound,” Kid said as he kissed your forehead. The three of you stood and Heat wrapped his good arm around you to support you.

“If you find any of his fucking lacky’s, make sure one is left alive…or mostly alive,” Heat’s tone was almost primal and not in a sexy way.

Kid and him touched foreheads before your love handed the red-head his coat back and brought you back to your shared room while Kid left to get Kil and Papas.

You felt like you were in a fog. You could see where you were but your body didn’t move like you wanted it. Your oldest friends were dead, because of you. You thought about the last time you’d seen both men. Toran, just a few short weeks prior. But Henry…you couldn’t remember the last time you saw Henry in person. Bea had seen him, but not you. You felt tears run down your cheeks but you didn’t make a sound. Your eyes finally moved to Heat instead of the crack in the wall you had focused on.

“They’re dead because of me,” you croaked out. Your throat was scratched from your wailing.

“They are dead because Oswald is a fucking coward. From what you’ve said of Henry, he wouldn’t have gone down without a fight. And Toran, though I only met him once, I know he was a force to be reckoned with, he would not have gone quietly. They both loved you and I know they gave their lives to keep you, Bea, and those kids safe,” Heat said as he wiped the tears from your face.

“Thank you baby. I love you more than you know,” you said as you leaned into him.

“I love you too. We’ll get you through this,” he said.

He helped you change and you brushed your teeth. The numbness crept in as you tried not to focus on Bea and the kids. If Oswald had them, he would have made it known but you couldn’t relax until you knew they were safe on the Victoria Punk.

He sat on the edge of the bed as he just held you close, no words. He knew no matter how much he felt like he should say something, there are no words to help with this type of grief. He remembered that Kid was in a similar state after they avenged Victoria’s death.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, just that Heat moved the both of you to sit up in bed. You laid opposite his still healing stab wounds when you heard voices on the ship.

“Wow! It’s so big!” one little voice said.

“It’s kinda smelly,” a different little voice said.

“Girls, remember your manners,” you distinctly heard Bea’s voice and you ran as fast as you could to the deck, Heat followed at a normal pace behind you.

You hugged the older woman so tightly she squeaked. Lyla was riding on Killer’s back while Kid had Margie on his and Reck had Rylie. Sid had Bea’s daughter and Papas had her son on their backs. The other crew members had bags of belongings.

“Bea, I’m so glad you are safe,” you cried to the woman.

“Dear, I told you we would be fine. Though I’m not sure why we are here,” she said as she patted you on the back.

“Come on kiddos lets show you where you’re staying,” Kid said and led the crew with the kids to the bunk rooms.

The Captain whispered to Heat, “Wire’s got a present for you in the brig.”

Once the children were out of earshot you sat on a crate and looked at the woman who had been your mother most of your life. She could see the sadness verging on despair in your eyes and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“What did Oswald do dearie?” She knew he was the only one to cause you this much pain and have you so worried.

“He killed Henry and Toran. He was somehow able to deliver their heads to the ship. They’re dead, Bea. They died protecting me, protecting us,” you gestured to you and her. The tears began again on their own.

“I understand now, honey. Everything will be alright. The kids and I will be safe on the ship and you have people who love you so much here. You don’t need to fight him alone anymore,” the old woman said.

“You’re absolutely right Bea. You have a whole crew of us to fight with you, fight for you. We will battle heaven and hell for our crew and I’d destroy the world for you,” Heat said as he wiped your tears then leaned down to give you a soft kiss.

“When the log pose resets, we’re gonna relocate you to an island he doesn’t have control over,” you said to Bea.

She placed her hand on your arm, “Oswald is a ripe piece of shite. You do what you need to.”

You hugged her again when Quincy made her way over, “Do you want me to show you where you’re staying Ms. Bea?”

“Of course dear. Then you can show me the kitchen. I need to know what I’m working with,” she said.

“I’m sure Kil would love the extra hands,” you said as they headed to the bunks.

You looked to Heat and took a deep breath. He gave you a sweet smile and fixed your hair.

“Can I go see them?” you asked as you finished wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, love. I don’t want you to be more distressed than you already are,” he gave you a sad look.

“I’m sure. I need to apologize and say good bye,” you replied.

“Whatever you want,” he gave you a chaste smile and held your hand as he walked you to the brig that you had only seen during your initial tour of the ship.

Wire sat in a chair against the wall while he kept an eye on the man chained in one of the two cells. Wire stood, wrapped his long arms around you and kissed the top of your head.

“You don’t need to be here sweetheart,” he said as you looked up at him.

“Yes…I do Wire. Where are they? I need the closure.”

He quietly nodded and led you to the second cell. There were two boxes next to each other. Heat stood next to you, his hand linked with yours as Wire stood a few steps behind. Each box held the head of your friends along with what you couldn’t see before; their cocks. You refrained from gagging at seeing the gruesome sight. It’s one thing seeing it from a distance and entirely different seeing it up close.

“I’m so sorry, both of you. Neither of you deserved this fate. Know that your deaths will be avenged and Oswald will pay for what he did to you. I will see you again when its my turn to leave this world. I will not let your sacrifices be in vain. I will live my life to the fullest with no regrets and lots of love. Goodbye my friends,” you said between tears.

The prisoner began to laugh.

“Isn’t that sweet,” he spit a mouthful of blood onto the floor, “the murderous whore wants to get revenge,” he coughed, “you know…I took their cocks first. They were still alive and their screams were delightful.”

The man spit out a tooth and began to laugh.

“Oswald always gets what he wants. He’ll kill your family and everyone on this filthy ship to get to you. He’ll find another like me to come after them. You think they’re safe here?”

The rage began to build in you. The pain was subsiding and all you saw was red. You made your way to his cell and tried to open the door.

“Jinjer?” Heat asked hesitantly.

“Wire, open it,” your voice was cold, like steel.

“Sweetheart, that’s not a good idea,” he cautioned and glanced at Heat.

You turned and looked to the man who was almost twice your height.

“Open. The. Fucking. Door. Wire,” you practically growled.

He hooked a long finger under your chin and searched your eyes.

“There’s no going back once you go in there. You will have to live with whatever happens,” he calmly advised. He wasn’t trying to talk you out of whatever you intended, just wanted to make sure you were rational enough to understand the gravity of the situation.

You pulled his hand from your chin and kissed his fingertips, “I told you what I did to my father and that hasn’t haunted me a day since. This piece of garbage actually murdered and dismembered dear friends of mine…don’t worry, I’ll leave him alive so you and Heat can interrogate him,” you said as you stared him straight in the eyes.

“Love…” Heat tried to say as you shot a look to him that said you were not backing down. He stopped and held his hands up in surrender.

“Go ahead, let the whore in here. Maybe I’ll be able to get my rocks off before you two freaks kill me. But know you’re next on his list. He’s gonna...”

Cough.

“Cut both heads off anyone she defiled herself with on this…”

Cough.

“Fucking ship. What Oswald wants, he gets. I know I’m not leaving this cesspool alive anyway.”

Cough.

Wire noticed Heat began to take deep breaths and heard the slight rumbling of the fire building in his chest. He reached out and placed a calming hand on his friends shoulder, trying to ground him. Heat’s wrathful eyes shot to Wire who then placed his other hand in the center of Heat’s chest.

“The brig is not fireproof,” he calmly said to the fire-breather.

You noticed your love’s rage brewing and took his hand and kissed his knuckles, ‘I’ve got this baby. You can have him when I’m done.”

Heat’s eyes moved to you and lightened slightly.

“I’ll be here if you need me,” he replied.

Wire turned and sneered at the man, “You better start praying to whatever gods you pray to. You’re right, you won’t make it off this ship alive, but you will be in the worst agony of your pitiful existence for as long as possible.”

He unlocked and opened the cell. The man was on his knees with his hands shackled in the chains against the wall. You grabbed the stiletto knife that sat on the table Wire was originally at and headed into the cell. Wire kept the door open as both he and Heat stepped in and took up position on either side of the doorway.

You kicked the prisoner hard enough in the torso to knock him backwards on to his ass. You knelt down and grabbed his leg just above his knee and stabbed the knife right through. You shoved the bottom of his blood stained shirt into his mouth to stifle his screams.

You spoke firmly and absolutely, “You’re going to give these two all the information they require. If you don’t, I will request they set you free. You’ll still be able to move with one leg, it’ll make your escape more believable. I’ll then use the contacts I have left to spread around that YOU defiled me. Then Oswald will take both of your heads just like my friends. You’ll be tortured until they kill you here, but they’ll at least keep you intact before you die.”

“You don’t have the balls,” he spat blood onto you.

“My vengeance will be brutal, bloody, and absolute. You can die with some dignity or stay loyal to a man who doesn’t even care to remember your name.” you sneered at him before you stood and pulled the stiletto out.

“I’ll send Papas down to make sure he doesn’t bleed out,” you said to the men at the door.

“No need. We know how to staunch the bleeding until we’re done,” Wire replied.

You left the cell and Heat followed while Wire closed himself in the cell with the prisoner. As Heat led you to the top of the stairs you heard whimpering and the sounds of chains being moved.

Heat laced his fingers with yours as the two of you headed to your shared room.

Once you were in a safe environment you rushed to the bathroom and relieved your stomach of what was left of dinner from the night before.

Heat rubbed your back and pulled your hair back before he grabbed an extra change of clothes for you.

“Thanks baby. I had hoped you never saw that side of me. It only comes out when those I care about are threatened or have been harmed,” you gave him a weak smile.

“Oh, love. You don’t need to apologize. I’m actually surprised he’s still alive. I was having a hard time keeping myself under control,” he said.

“I know you need to get information from him, otherwise I would have gutted him,” you said.

“Well I’ll remember to NEVER piss you off,” he chuckled as he tried to lighten the mood.

“You’re my family Heat. The whole crew is. Remember, any enemy of the Kid Pirates deserve whatever brutal and bloody fate they have coming to them,” you reminded him.

“Not that I didn’t believe you before, but fuck was that proof,” he said with a smile.

“I told you I had a dark side,” you said as you pulled your joined hands up and kissed his knuckles. He kissed yours when you were done.

“I almost feel pity for our enemies,” he added.

You brushed your teeth and Heat sat with you until you felt grounded enough to be out of that dark headspace.

Wire knocked on the frame of the open door.

“You alright sweetheart?” he asked as he stepped into your room. You moved from Heat and have Wire a hug.

“Yeah. My stomach wasn’t too happy, but I think I’m OK. Thanks,” you have him a small smile.

“Good. You had me worried. That can be a dangerous mental state to stay in for long,” he said as he cupped your cheek in his large hand.

“Thank you for keeping both of us grounded,” you said as you kissed his wrist and removed his hand from your face.

“You’re welcome,” he turned to Heat, “Reck is keeping an eye on the prisoner. We should head back.”

Heat nodded and turned to you as he stood.

“I love you,” he said as he pushed some hair behind your ear.

“I love you too baby,” you said as you gave him a kiss which he deepened before he released it and left with Wire.

#op heat #one piece #eustass kid #kid pirates #massacre soldier killer #heat #heat x reader #heat one piece #op wire #one piece wire #wire one piece #one piece fanfiction #kid one piece #captain kid #eustass captain kid

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count-alucard-tepes · 3 years ago

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First impressions of My Hero Academia Part 2

Part 1

Season 4

1. Mirio...he was the chosen one! Why All Might?!

2. Night eye is a fanboy and I love it.

3. We could definitely tell Night eye was the brains behind All Might...no brainers there🤣

4. I think Night eye was in love with All Might...you can't change my mind.

5. Alright...maybe All Might and Night eye were in love...the break up was too emotional.

6. Fat Gum...holy shit...more like Sexy Gum. I need to see Sexy Gum more often😍

7. My man Twice is back...he's so funny.

8. Damn Mirio lost his quirk!? Goddammit just because Deku is the main character...they had to do something to this guy.

9. Oh no...sir Night eye...don't die....whyyyy he's so cool.

10. All Might finally coming to see his lover on his death bed...kind of fucked up but okay it's not about All Might right now.

11. I'm not crying..you are!?

12. Finally IcyHot and Lord Explosion murder have their PH licenses.

13. Present Mic probably makes All Might's ears hurt but he's too polite to say it.

14. Oh shit...Endeavor wants to throw hands with Small Might.

15. SHHOUTOOOOO!

16. Bakugo on the drums was everything! This violent kid.

17. Ectoplasm is so cool.

18. Hound Dog is the best boy ever....guidance councilor...not too sure about that😅

19. Oh hell no...Endeavor is the number 1 hero...why?!

20. Hawks definitely smokes weed.

21. Endeavor is definitely a fanboy of All Might...the phrase...the pose...admit it, Flame daddy.

Season 5

1. Mirio is such a cutie...I hope he gets his quirk back...also...this was the opportunity, All Might...to make him your successor?! But no...had to be fucking Deku.

2. Mirko is the hottest female hero! Love her!

3. Fucking Hawks is the traitor!

4. Or maybe not...my bad.

5. Vlad king and 1B are back! Yessss!

6. That biased commentary though...shit, Aizawa say something!

7. By the way...we all know 1A is gonna win because...all the main characters are there and everyone favours this fucking class.

8. All Might looks so hot in his black suit! I'm really feeling Small Might more these days!😍😍😍

9. Midnight, girl...you could have made All Might feel better and say you guys might have been dating...shit...kick a brother down why don't you.

10. Shinso is so cool...definitely not idolizing someone *Cough* Aizawa fanboy.

11. Damn...these kids are really affected by All Might's retirement...its heartbreaking.

12. IcyHot and Bakugo saved All Might and some fill ins...they're officially on my awesome list.

13. Oh lord, they're gonna intern for Endeavor...this...should go well...or in flames 🔥

14. If Hawks fucking hurts the fabulous Best Jeanist...I'm about to throw hands!

15. Also...Endeavor x Hawks forever.

16. SHOUTO!!! Him wanting to be a hero just like All Might must be such a slap in the face for his dad...and I love it🤣

17. Selkie is so cute! I agree with Froppy!

18. Alright...the Todoroki siblings are so cute! They have a lot of family drama...but don't we all.

19. Honestly though, Endeavor just needs to get the fuck away from his sweet kids and his amazing wife...and let them live in peace.

20. Damn Aizawa and Present Mic had a trio going on...I hate seeing Aizawa cry.

21. Nana Shimura was amazing...such a strong woman to let her kid go.

22. Damn Gran Torino was hot af...total daddy! Literally Gran Torino reading this:

23. Season 6 come on!

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genshin-impacted · 4 years ago

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campfire stories // Childe x Reader (sfw)

Word Count: 2.3k

Notes: gender neutral reader, reader pov, (implied mutual pining), takes place in 1.2, hints to Childe’s Story Quest, but no direct spoilers, a LOT of bantering

an indulgent fic combo w/ character analysis of Childe and the reader’s inner turmoil in regards to their (developing) feelings for him

Summary: You walk on this tightrope, balancing the tension that exists on being on opposite sides and the comfort that comes with easy conversation and undemanding company. So you let yourself worry about Childe. How could you not when you look at Childe and see someone with an easy attitude, carefree laughter despite his guarded eyes?

For when you talk to him, you are reminded of home-- for better or for worse.

Here is the accompaniment/sequel fic: Letters to Home!

As a wanted person, there were few places you could safely invite yourself into. It is strange being received in such a manner when you were so welcomed back in Mondstadt, but you understand why, as a foreigner, you would pose the most threat to Liyue considering the recent death of the geo archon.

(The fact you keep getting dragged into political turmoil is concerning, to say the least, though you have a feeling your path is going to continue to be full of trouble.

You try not thinking of brown tousled hair and blue eyes and fail. Childe is, after all, the epitome of trouble.)

Luckily, you are used to camping out in the wilderness. Despite Paimon’s whines, she is also at ease surrounded by nature, with easy access to food and fresh air. Though both of you still wish you were able to sleep in an actual bed as you did at Wangshuu Inn, considering how close to the harbor you actually were.

When the moon fully rises above the two of you, Paimon is fast asleep within the tent while you tend to the flickering embers of the campfire, basking in the silence that solitude brings you. Though your moments to be alone are soon interrupted when you hear the crunching of grass underneath the footsteps of another, and you turn, alert, to see who approaches.

"Oh, what a surprise,” Childe says, coming down from the darkness of the hills. You can hear as much as you can see the amusement on his visage that you have become accustomed to seeing often. “Fancy meeting you here.”

"It really isn’t,” you reply back dryly, looking at the measly tent, the small campfire, and two logs that you placed in front of them as temporary seats. You try to not be embarrassed as Childe looks around with too much care. “You got something to say about my lovely campsite?” You ask, knowing full well you played into his hands when he laughs and waves a flippant hand. You roll your eyes, a small smile lifting your lips as you watch him patter around your set-up, only for you to notice a gash on his wrist-- maroon in color. And once you see that, you begin to notice other wounds scattered along his body like red paint splashes on a grey canvas.

He’s hurt, you think, and worry bubbles in your chest before you can tell yourself it’s a bad idea.

You shouldn’t be concerned, knowing who he is and who he works for. The last time you met up with a Fatui Harbinger (other than Childe, that is), she almost killed you and Paimon after stealing something that didn’t belong to her. You think you’re allowed to associate the Fatui with cold smiles and brutal actions.

But Childe is different. You find yourself relaxing in his presence before you remember who you’re talking to, but you wish you didn’t have to put your guard up for unsavory ulterior motives in the first place. It’s not as if you don’t see how Childe’s amiable smile can so easily turn icy or that his proclivity for violence is something dangerous in and of itself, but you wish these things were something you didn’t have to worry about.

There is a constant strain in your friendship, if you can call it that-- for no matter how many times you banter easily in a way that has you almost forgetting you’re on opposite sides, you remember Venti, and the suspicion wedges itself in between the two of you. You walk on this tightrope, balancing the tension that exists on being on opposite sides and the comfort that comes with easy conversation and undemanding company.

So you let yourself worry about Childe. How could you not when you look at Childe and see someone with an easy attitude, carefree laughter despite his guarded eyes?

(You never thought you would ever be involved with someone in such a complicated and convoluted way, but you can't help but crave the way you and Childe clash so casually, reminiscent of your friends back in your world.

You talk to him and are reminded of home, for better or for worse.

And if you think his smile is charming or that his eyes remind you of the ocean, you try not to.)

“Hey,” you start, gesturing toward him nonchalantly, “why are you so beat up?”

Childe chuckles, rubbing the back of his head, and you can see dried blood sticking to the tips of his hair. "Stumbled into a few ruin guards," he tells you, and you immediately translate that to ‘I picked a fight with them.’ As if knowing your train of thought, he quickly changes the subject. “You know, it shouldn’t be that bad trying to find an inn to take you in.” He grins, despite the look you threw at him. “You could just… provide the owners with extra incentive to let you under their roof.”

“Does it look like I’m made of money to you?” You retort, “Also, I can’t believe you’re trying to brush off the fact that you willingly walked into the ruins to fight them.”

Despite your snappy tone, Childe only laughs, and you can't help but be pleased that the conversation between the two of you is quick and smooth-- natural. “You know me so well already,” he says. “Have you been paying a little extra attention to me lately?”

“Can't help it," you reply sarcastically, "you're a walking disaster, can't keep my eyes off of you." You smile when he laughs. “Anyway, come over here,” you say, rummaging through your backpack to find the medical tape. “You look like you’re one flesh wound away from dying.”

You savor the moment of silence as Childe blinks at you in confusion.

“...ah, are you going to dress my wounds? Worried for me, are you? How kind of you.” You can hear the teasing tone in his voice, but it is gentler in a way you did not anticipate. He looks at you with a softened gaze, and you can feel your face warm for reasons other than the campfire, so you roughly pat the log next to you, ignoring his grin.

“No, this is actually my diabolical plan to end you once and for all,” you tell him, waiting as he takes off his top to bear his back to you.

He glances back and you must have been too slow to train your expression to a more neutral one because he winks at you. “Be gentle, alright?”

"I'm going to be the opposite just because you said that," you say, snickering as you sweep off the caked blood where the scratches have healed over. You think briefly that joking aside, it was strange that Childe would trust you to not stab him in the back, but it passes as soon as it comes when you finally see how many scars he actually has littered all over his body.

“Admiring my battle scars? Shall I let you take a look at every one of them?” You hear him say, and you bluster in silence as he laughs. “No need for ointment,” Childe says, when he hears you twist open an herbal soother. “I’ll be fine.”

Without warning, you slather a healthy amount of antibiotic cream onto his wounds. He yelps at the coldness of the balm, and you can’t help the laugh that bursts from your lips when he turns to you with a pout.

It's ridiculous to think that this man whose lower lip was protruding because of your mischievous administration was the 11th Harbinger, but you're starting to think part of the appeal is because this side of him is so unexpected to see.

“I never said that I'd be gentle,” you reply teasingly with a fondness that so easily comes through. (You think Diluc would disapprove of how trusting you seem to be, and how Amber would have a heart attack knowing how much you hang around Childe-- but neither of them are here with you, and you are not in Mondstadt.) You find yourself sweeping your fingers over his wounds more lightly, and if he notices that your hands are more gentle, only a momentary glance behind him is telling.

He hums. “Hm, I hope you don’t treat every patient you meet like this,” he says with a lilt of playfulness.

“Of course not.” The campfire flickers in the corner of your eyes, comfortably keeping you warm as you press your hand onto his shoulder to wrap it with gauze. “You’re a special case,” you remark dryly. “Aren’t you glad?”

“You really know how to make a guy feel warm inside,” Childe tells you, and you can hear rather than see the smile on his face.

For once, the two of you sit in silence. It’s a rare occasion, and you start to think that perhaps the two of you fill in the quiet with witty retorts in order to avoid the looming tension between the two of you. But with the soft flicker of fire and the gentle rise and fall of Childe’s shoulders with his breathing, you find yourself more comfortable in his presence than you’ve ever been.

You wish you could stay like this forever, and so you set out to make it so.

You tell him what you have wanted to be if you had not come to Teyvat and become an adventurer. You avoid the more personal feelings that come with it, the yearning to go back home, how lost you felt when you were alone, and tell him briefly about who you are beyond what he knows of you as Mondstadt’s Honorary Knight.

Childe listens to you without interruption, but you know his attention is on you from the way his shoulder shakes in laughter when you tell him about the antics your friends got into or the way he shifts when you talk about your dad.

“Do you miss your family?” He asks you suddenly when you take a brief pause to tie the tape around his shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply honestly. “I try not to, but I get homesick a lot.” You pause, your hand feeling the warmth that emanates from his skin. “You?" You try, "Do you get homesick?”

“If I give myself a moment to think about my family, I do,” he tells you, just as honestly. “I haven’t been back to Snezhnaya in, hm, quite some time, I think.”

You trace your finger along the middle of his back where a long, white gash of scar tissue lay, and Childe does not even flinch. “Do your family know you’re Fatui?” You ask quietly, and you see your hand leave his back when he leans forward, away from your touch, to pull his shirt over his head.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize, he glances back at you and gives you a smile that makes your heart clench. “Not the young ones.”

“Oh.”

Childe laughs, and you feel your face warm again at the lack of tact in your response. “I’m kind of a ‘bad guy,’ as you already know. I’d rather have my youngest sibling still think of the world of me for as long as I can, you know?” He slips his hands through his grey jacket, continuing almost superfluously, “Defend their childhood dreams and what not.”

Instead of a response, you hum, glancing down at the red scarf that still lay pooled on the grass. You reach out for it the same time he does, and you look up to see eyes dark and blue as the ocean deep.

“Do you think I should quit?” He asks you abruptly, or so it seems to you, as you tug the scarf instinctively. You look into his eyes, wondering why they reminded you of the abyss.

The campfire ambers flicker at the corner of your eyes.

You falter when you think you should have not; isn’t the answer clear to you? Haven’t you thought Childe was better off without the Fatui? But something about the way Childe told you about his family, about his given role as defender of childhood dreams makes you think that there is more than what he has shown you.

The fire seems unbearably hot now, but you think it might have something to do with the fact your body is close enough to Childe’s to feel how warm he is (and you wonder why you even took note of that).

“Does it really matter what I think?” You ask instead, lifting a hand to pinch at his cheek, feeling yourself smile when he lets you do it with only a tiny wince. “Whether you quit or not-- isn’t that up to whether you think what you’re doing is still worth it?” You let go of his cheek and scarf, grinning up at him as he rubs his cheek and stares at you thoughtfully.

“Ah, well…” Childe responds after a moment of silence where you could only hear the crackling of the wood. He pulls his scarf across his shoulder and smiles at you. “Who knows?”

You roll your eyes. “What do you mean ‘who knows’? Didn’t you ask me because you care about what I think of you?” You gasp dramatically. “Childe… am I… a special case?”

Much to your surprise, you watch as Childe’s expression morphs into something akin to embarrassment. “Ah, well, you know,” he stammers, “you’re certainly the only Honorary Knight that I know of.”

“If you really think I’m dumb enough to believe that--”

“I never said that!”

The two of you banter until the stars are high and the moon moves across the sky. You continue to share stories with him, eagerly stretching out the time where the two of you are not Fatui and Honorary Knight. Childe carefully listens to you, learning more of where you came from and the circumstances that brought you here. In return, he shares stories about his family, about his viewpoint on battles and of snow. (“You and your obsession with blood,” you retort, and he only laughs, inching closer, but never touching you, underneath the blanket you swept over the two of you for warmth when the fire dies out.)

If your relationship with him changes that night, you cannot tell. But sometimes you think his glances linger on you longer when the two of you pass by, and you wonder if he wants to share more campfire stories, knowing how much it brings you closer to each other-- no matter how much the two of you pretend that it isn’t the case.

#childe #tartaglia #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin childe #i kept editing it over n over so i shall now release it #i will write childe's pov next bc nothings better than mutual pining

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fanfoolishness · 4 years ago

Text

The Lullaby (The Mandalorian)

(Din tries to help the Child get to sleep, while needing to sleep himself. PTSD, childhood memories, family feels, no romance. Thanks to the anon who sent me an ask saying “Bruh, Din must be EXHAUSTED” in regards from planet to planet. Set between chapter 8 and 9. 1880 words.)

***

Maybe it would be different this time.

He floated, gauzily, through the old house. Sunlight slanted through transparisteel windows, lining the little things, the ordinary things, with a rich and reddish gold. The breakfast table was a glory. His father’s wooden flutes glimmered. His toys, little silver droids he pulled on strings or pushed on wheels, glowed beautifully as he played. He made silly little noises to himself, whole stories and conversations about the battles they would fight at each other’s side.

But the sounds struck, faint at first, then throbbing in the near distance. Boom, boom. The whine of blaster fire.

Din flinched. It was always like this. Always. He shivered, sinking into himself, wrapping his arms around his middle.

His mother’s arms flailed, frantic as she crossed the living space. His father’s face was pale. They scooped him up into their strong, safe arms, and he wept with confusion, with fear. The toy droids rattled across the floor.

They ran.

***

Din started, breathing hard, and sat up straight in the pilot’s seat. Hell, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. They were still in too close of an orbit to the last place they’d fled, and he didn’t intend for them to be captured somewhere this backwater. He took a deep breath, trying to center himself, but the exhaustion clung heavy on him.

He’d been tired before, of course. There’d been times as a young man he’d run himself near to death, chasing bounties, getting in over his head, seeking out yet another fight. But there’d been a nihilistic purity to it back then, the promise of a glorious death should things go badly, a battle worthy of the Way. It had been a clean ache, and an empty one.

Now, though, he found himself tired in ways he’d never even thought about.

He battled differently with the child around, always sensitive to the danger the fight posed to the little one; it led to taking different risks, making new assessments, sometimes taking hits that never would have landed had it been him alone. His body groaned with the effort some days, burdened with bruises, pulled muscles, burns from the rare blaster bolts that nearly made it past the beskar. He didn’t mind, patching himself up with bacta and painkillers at the end of each night. It was the Way.

But the exhaustion lingered, not always due to physical causes. Some nights the kid wouldn’t fall asleep, tossing and turning and fussing so that Din never did really rest either Sometimes just the mental calculations of fleeing, hiding, running, searching, were more exhausting than a physical fight.

He thought now that he understood the Creed in a different way than ever before. Battle faded into the background, the warrior’s death a long distant fate. He ached in a way that had nothing to do with physical wounds but that laid him bare all the same, a feeling deeper than mere blood and bone. He thought of foundlings, of care, of sacrifice.

He thought of the kid.

The kid. Where had the little womp rat gotten to? Din craned his head to the side, scanning for the kid through the visor of his helmet, and let out a sigh of relief. The little one was still buckled into his seat, though he looked just as wiped out as Din felt. His ears drooped all the way down to his shoulders, and his large eyes were half-lidded, little hands coming up to rub sleepily at his face.

“Hey there,” said Din. “We’d better get some rest, huh, buddy?”

The child’s face crinkled, his big eyes narrowing. Oh, so he was going to be fussy tonight. The kid let out an annoyed little grunt as his hands curled into tiny fists.

“None of that,” said Din, a mild sternness creeping into his voice. “You need to lay down.” At the kid’s glower, he hastily amended, “We both need to get some rest. Come on, I’ll come to bed with you. Just let me bring the Crest into a better orbit.”

The kid made some nonsense noises that he suspected were an affirmation. Din smiled faintly beneath his helmet. Those little sounds were becoming so familiar, he almost thought he could tell what they meant.

He brought the ship out of orbit, scrolling through options in the navicomputer. His eyelids felt so heavy, though. He took a deep breath through his nose, slowly letting it out through his mouth. Training in his youth came back to him, ways to ask ever more of the body in order to fulfill the Creed. Just a bit further. He breathed deep, struggling to keep himself alert.

He stared hard at the small screen, at his gloved fingertips hovering over its surface. They blurred slightly. He selected a path that would take them into a secluded orbit, far from satellites or prying eyes, and relaxed as he directed the ship along the planned path. He blinked. His vision slid from slightly blurred to doubled.

He was so tired.

His head slipped forward, helmet weighing it down, until his chin rested on his chest. He jerked himself back, shaking his head sharply and trying to clear it. Dank farrik, he needed to sleep.

“Just a little longer, kid,” he muttered. His hands felt faint on the controls, but he straightened up again. Breathe deeply. Bring fire into the very center of your being. Direct the energy outward into a killing strike. Though in this case, the killing strike was just the successful maneuvering of the ship into a new, hidden orbit, and nearly as difficult as any battle technique. At last, though, the navicomputer flashed at him, advising him he’d been successful.

His hands loosened and he yawned, getting wearily to his feet. His hand was sure on the child’s restraints, freeing him from the seat belt. He scooped the kid into his arms, his weight sure and familiar.

“Come on, little guy,” he murmured. The kid fussed in his arms, burrowing his head into the woven cloth of Din’s cloak, a favorite place for him to nap. Din leaned his head to the side, helmet resting against the kid’s cheek, just for a moment.

He took the ladder carefully, keeping the kid pressed tight to his chest, and headed straight to his narrow cot. He sat down on it heavily, making sure to cradle the kid’s head as he did so.

“What do you think, pal?” he asked. “You want your bed tonight? Or do you want to stay here?”

It was about fifty-fifty, which option the kid chose. Sometimes he was happy to go curl up in the new pram Din had found for him, after the one that Kuiil had fixed up was burned on Nevarro. Din had gotten him several different blankets over the past several weeks, and sometimes the kid got real cozy under them, happy as anything.

Other times, more unsettled nights like tonight, the child made it quite clear he wanted to stay with Din, holding onto him tightly with those small arms. Tonight he kept his face pressed against Din’s cloak, and Din sighed, laying down and resting a hand on the child’s back. He rubbed it through the thick robe, small circles lazily round and round, something he faintly remembered his mother doing.

“How are you, buddy?” he asked softly.

The kid’s hand reached up, claw-tipped fingers curling into the cowl of Din’s undershirt, at the spot where neck met shoulder. Scared, then. Din had come to realize that when the kid was this clingy, he really felt anxious about something. Through the tiredness, his chest ached. He wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to him before Din had found him.

“Hey, it’s all right, I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Do you want a story?”

The kid’s ears flicked, twitching upwards. A yes.

Shit. It was so hard to remember any kind of story with his mind mushy and tired like this. He’d gotten pretty okay at stories, to his own surprise; sometimes he would simply tell the kid all about their adventures that day, but sometimes he’d come up with stories he picked up from around. Silly stories he’d overheard Peli Motto or Omera tell the kid; stories of Mandalor the Great riding the Mythosaur; stories about their friends Kuiil and IG-11 who had helped them. But tonight, nothing came to mind.

His eyelids fell shut. For a moment, he saw them again -- his mother, so beautiful and frightened; his father, who’d always seemed so strong, but now looked so afraid --

He blinked, coming back to himself again. He hesitated.

“I don’t really have a story tonight, kid.”

The little one murmured crankily, little hand tightening into a fist, ears falling back down near his collar. Din rubbed his back soothingly, a circle here, a pat of his palm there.

“Uh…’” He swallowed. “Maybe a song?”

The baby stilled, large ears swiveling slightly, the better to hear. Din glanced down at him, saw those big eyes wide in anticipation.

“I’m not much of a singer,” he cautioned. He cleared his throat, closing his eyes, and remembered what his mother used to sing.

The song, halting at first, grew slowly in his mouth and throat. It had been so long since he’d sang, so long since he’d engaged with music. The Tribe had had no music; the noise was too dangerous, too risky, and the little metal they had was all reserved for armor and weapons, not musical instruments. But this was something older than his life as a Mandalorian, something soft and far away and secret.

He didn’t remember all the words. They weren’t in Basic, and he wasn’t sure of all of their meaning, having lost his parents’ language long ago. The melody cracked a little, here and there, his throat rusty when it came to notes higher than his voice could carry. But he knew it was a comfort-song, a happy song, a sleeping-song; it was a song of moons and stars and inky night, and he sang brokenly to the child, his voice small amidst the hum of the Crest.

The last chorus of the little song faded into the ship’s background sounds, and Din felt a curious unloosening in his chest, a weight lifting.

“You know...” he mumbled. Sleep seemed so close. “My mother used to sing that to me, when I was a child. It’s about the stars and moons going to sleep. I used to sing along with her.” He smiled drowsily, trying to remember. “And my father would leave the curtain open in my room, so I could see the moons and stars as they passed overhead.”

He brushed his hand over the child’s ears, gentle strokes. “Don’t forget, kid. You’re not alone out here. ‘S you and me, here amongst the stars,” he said, echoing the song’s refrain. He let out a sigh, more breath than voice. “This is the Way.”

The baby curled against him, his small hand slackening, relaxing. Quietly, he began to snore, and beneath him, Din fell into a deep sleep of his own..

He dreamed not of blaster fire, or fear, or smoke in the streets.

He dreamed of stars of white against a blue-flung sky, of golden moons rising brilliant in the night; and he dreamed of a child’s hand, held safely in his own.

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #noromo mando #din djarin #grogu #din djarin's parents #ptsd #my Mando fic

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lils-writes-stuff · 5 years ago

Text

A Family Affair

spencer reid x reader

Best Years Part 5 | part 4 | part 3 | part 2 | part 1

Summary: as a case from atlanta dwells, the readers past make more advances.

Warnings: normal criminal minds things

A/N: based on season seven episode 16

“You can’t hide forever Y/N,” the voice spoke.

Y/N’s eyes darted around the room she was in. She sat in a chair but she wasn’t able to get up from it. The smell of the damp room overwhelmed her as tears began to roll down her cheeks,

“No,” she spoke with a trembling voice.

“Nothing lasts forever Y/N, you know that,” The voice said before revealing itself. Caroline walked out from the shadows of the room, gun in her hand and a evil look on her face. “All the things you love will be gone soon and you know it.”

As the words left her mouth, lights flickered on beside her and she saw her team sitting there tied up to chairs.

She made eye contact with Spencer, who than mouthed that it was okay.

“No, no- do not touch them, hurt me- take me, do whatever you want to me!” Y/N tried to plead to her tormentor, but Caroline just shook her head.

“Too late.”

Y/N sat up in a cold sweat, clutching her chest as she hyperventilated. She reached and wiped the small tears that were on her cheeks.

“It was just a dream,” she tried to reassure herself. “Just a dream.”

Y/N pulled herself out of her bed, pulling Spencer’s sweater that sat on the edge of the bed over her bare arms and pulling the ends of it over her torso that adorned a grey tank. Her feet shuffled as she walked to the bathroom to quickly brush her teeth then through her small living room into the kitchen where a fully dressed Spencer stood, ready to start the day.

“Good morning,” he said looking up from the book he had in his hand.

“Hi,” Y/N responded, voice full of sleep still. She brought herself over to the coffee machine, completely avoiding Spencer who was awaiting attention.

“No love?” he asked with a small pout on his lips.

“Coffee,” she said softly as she poured herself a cup.

“Uh-huh,” Spencer said as he walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Usually, when they shared their mornings together and he did this, she would always lean back and lay in his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just had a bad dream, spooked me a bit that’s all,” she said reassuring him. That wasn’t a lie, it was just a dream, she thought trying to reassure herself also.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yes, bub, I am sure,” she said, using his nickname she gave him a little after they started dating. She placed her mug on the counter and turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Spencer pulled her closer to him and connected their lips. Y/N loved when he was in a needy mood, it meant cuddles and kisses and all the attention she could give to him or vice versa.

The slow morning kiss tasted like coffee and toothpaste. Spencer held her closely as he pecked her lips multiple times diligently, making Y/N’s heart soar.

The moment was short-lived as both of their phones rang meaning Hotch needed them there in the office sooner than planned.

“No,” Y/N said, dragging out the ‘o’ in sadness.

“Go get dressed I’ll make you a coffee to go,” Spencer told Y/N.

She sighed in defeat. She grabbed Spencer’s arm as she walked away, her sliding down to his and then finally letting go and walking to her room to get ready.

--------

Emily, Y/n, and Penelope laughed at the story Penelope was telling as they entered the round table room. As they walked in they saw JJ take a shot of Five-hour energy.

“Whoa you’re not messing around,” Y/N said with a chuckle as she sat down in a chair at the table.

“Mm, Will’s away all week, so I am pulling double duty with Henry,” JJ said as she finished the shot.

“Please tell me we are still on for Saturday night because I have had it circled in my calendar for the last 23 and a half days, which apparently, from the look of you you did not,” Penelope said rushed while she looked at JJ. She set her mug down and took a seat in her chair.

“Ooh, Garcia paid good money for those salsa lessons,” Emily said, tucking a piece of hair behind her hair. Y/N nodded her head in agreement.

Spencer and Morgan walked into the room and took their seats hearing the tail end of the conversation.

“I’ll get a sitter,” JJ said, feeling guilty for not remembering the plans that they had made.

“Let’s get started,” Hotch said walking into the room with Rossi, the two taking their seats at the table.

“Okay, Atlanta Field office has a serial on their hands,” Penelope said as she opened her tablet. “Two prostitutes stabbed and staged in the last two weeks.”

“Atlanta’s crime rate has skyrocketed over the last few years, especially the proliferation of solicited sex and drug use in the downtown district,” Spencer said.

“Maybe this guy thinks he’s cleaning up the city,” Emily said looking up from her tablet.

“It’s rare for an unsub who targets prostitutes to pose the bodies,” Y/N said, eyes trained on the pictures of the bodies.

“The means of disposal usually reflects how the person feels towards them,” JJ said.

“It looks like he didn’t think poorly of his victims, even kept them dressed,” Rossi said eyes going towards the screen.

“He could be filled with remorse. The arms are folded, the bodies laid to rest in a quiet park outside the city,” Derek said while he pointed at the pictures with a pen.

“Maybe he knew them?” Y/N asked as she looked up from her tablet.

“It could be personal, there’s a lot of rage in these kills, multiple stab wounds,” Emily said.

“What about sexual violations?” Rossi asked looking at Hotch.

“No, the M.E.’s report says there’s no evidence of sexual activity before death,” Hotch says in response.

“So what’s he doing with them?” Penelope asked.

“That’s what we need to find out, wheels up in 20,” Hotch said.

---------

“Yes, Mom-- I know I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the last time I was coming down,” Y/N said to her mother on the phone. “Well, to be honest, it wasn’t the first thing on my mind to stop by and say hi since I was trying to catch a serial killer not too far from my home.”

The team listened as she paused and a look of horror filled her face.

“No ma’am I didn’t mean that in a smart ass way you know that, I’m sorry, I’ll come by if I can-- I will love you bye,” She hung up the phone grabbing her coffee from the bar before heading back to her seat next to Spencer.

The team looked at her with amusement after hearing the conversation between her and her mom.

“What? Don’t act like your Mom still doesn’t strike fear in you when she has that tone,” she said, mostly looking at Derek who she knew was about to say something to her. He opted to just raise his hands, knowing she was right.

“Okay, so both of the victims had 250 dollars on them when they were found, why wouldn’t the unsub take that?” Emily asked, changing the topic back to the case.

“It’s a lot to pass up, money must not be on his mind,” Rossi said.

“Dumping the bodies certainly is,” JJ said while opening the file that laid on the table. “He chose two different parks outside of Atlanta.”

“The parks are 15 miles apart and 40 minutes from the city, speaks to his comfort zone,” Spencer said.

“Or he didn’t want to return to the same location and risk getting recognized,” Derek countered.

“Hey guys, I hate to be the messenger of sad things,” Penelope said through the speaker of the laptop. “But yet another body has been discovered by some joggers at yet another park. Her name’s Rebecca Moore and, get this, a missing person report was filed on her.”

“How long was she missing?” Y/N asked.

“36 hours.”

“Who filed it?” Emily asked.

“Her friend, Allyson Parker,” Penelope answered.

“Prentiss, you, Y/N, and JJ find out from Allyson if she has any insight on why Rebecca was targeted. Morgan and Reid, go to the disposal site, Dave and I will set up at the field office,” Hotch said telling everyone where to go.

---------

JJ, Emily, and Y/N pulled off the street as they arrived at the spot where Allyson told them to meet her.

“Allyson Moore?” Y/N asked as the approached a Brunette who stood on the corner.

“Yeah that’s me,” she responded.

“Hi, I’m Agent Y/L/N, this is Agent Prentiss-” she pointed to Emily on her left and then pointed to her right- “and this is Agent Jareau.”

“Nice to meet you,” Allyson responded.

“We’re very sorry for your loss,” JJ said.

“How long were you and Rebecca friends?” Emily asked.

“3 years,” Allyson responded getting choked up.

“You two had each other’s backs, that’s why you filed the report, right?” Y/N said looking at the girl.

“It was almost two days, I thought she was at the police station. Getting locked up is better than disappearing with one of them,” Allyson explained.

“So what made you think something was wrong?” JJ asked.

“She always came back,” Allyson said. “Bad as it was, this place was home, you know?”

“Did she have any regular customers?” JJ continued with her questions.

“We all do.”

“Rebecca had over 250 dollars on her,” Y/N said,

“She did?” Allyson said, less a question more of a statement of disbelief.

“What would that kind of money get a customer?” Emily asked.

“A lot,” responded Allyson.

“Like, all night or….,” JJ trailed off wanting Allyson to finish her thought.

“Nowadays? Yeah,” Allyson responded.

“We need to take you back to the last time you saw Rebecca,” Emily explained, setting Allyson up for what they were about to do.

“Where were you standing?” Y/N asked watching as Allyson transported herself to that night.

“Facing which way?” Emily asked.

“Street-” she nodded towards the road- “A truck pulled up. He was one of my regulars. I was talking to him through the window when Rebecca pulled up in a silver beamer.”

“Did you recognize the car?” Y/N asked Allyson.

“No, it must have been a new customer,” Allyson explained.

“What did she do after that?” Emily asked.

“She looked back at me and then started walking down the block, that was the last time I saw her,” Allyson said, but then she stopped. “Wait a second, there was an older gray van. I’ve seen it around here before, it was parked there a long time.”

“A van? Where?” JJ asked as Allyson came back to where she was.

“It parks right there,” Allyson said pointing to a spot by a couple of trash cans.

The three women turned their heads to look at the spot.

“Could you make out the license plate?” Emily asked.

“No it was dark,” Allyson responded to their dismay.

“How long was it there?” Y/N asked turning her head to look at Allyson.

“A few hours probably, why?” Allyson asked.

“It’s a loading zone, permit parking only,” Y/N explained.

The three women thanked her before they headed back to the SUV.

---------------

“Allyson remembered seeing a van parked on the street the night that Rebecca disappeared,” Emily said as her, Y/N, and JJ walked into the conference room.

“And she’s seen it before, but get this, it was parked in a loading zone for hours,” Y/N added.

“Well, why don’t we check any recent tickets?” The Atlanta field office agent, Agent Brooks, said.

“Our analyst already did that, nothing,” Emily said.

“It’s not a residential area, so a vendor maybe, Garcia pulling permits now,” JJ said.

“He’s done this three times before,” Rossi began. “Each victim is left with 250. That’s a 750 dollar investment, he didn’t have to make.”

“He has every chance to take that money back, but he buries it with them instead,” Derek said while he looked at the crime scene photos in his hands.

“It could be an expression or a manifestation of his guilt,” Emily said.

“Everything that happened postmortem- keeping them dressed, crossing their arms, laying them to rest- it’s all very nurturing,” JJ said.

“But the kills are the exact opposite, incredibly violent and angry.” Y/N said countering JJ’s argument.

“Multiple personalities?” Emily asked.

“Or multiple unsubs,” Hotch answered. “The violent one submits there dominance and the submissive one if left to clean up the mess.”

The team sat in silence as they thought and looked over the case file. Everyone’s attention soon turned to Agent Brooks as her phone rang.

“Brooks,” she said answering the phone. “Okay, we’ll be right there. There’s been another body.”

“Damn,” Y/N said. “These guys are moving fast.”

“They are, Morgan and Y/N go to the latest crime scene with Agent Brooks, the rest of us will stay here,” Hotch said looking between Y/N and Derek.

The two Agents nodded and followed Brooks out of the office.

It was a ten-minute drive to the crime scene, the three hoping out of the vehicle, and following an Atlanta Police Officer to the body. Brooks walked away from the scene as she answered her phone than talked to one of the responding officers and came back a minute later. Y/N and Derek looking over the body as she approached.

“Her name was Julie Harmon, lives in a loft downtown,” Brooks spoke looking at the body. “Envelope of cash was in her bag, wrapped in plastic.”

“That’s new,” Y/N said as she inspected the outfit Julie was wearing. “It looks like she’s prepped for burial.”

“This woman doesn’t fit his victimology,” Derek said while he crouched down next to the body to look closer.

“Yeah, look at her nails,” Y/N said pointing to the fresh manicure that Julie had.

“The ways she’s dressed, her shoes haven’t hit the pavement,” Derek said in agreement to Y/N’s observations.

“Maybe she’s a high-class call girl,” Brooks said.

“Who fought back and got punished for it,” Derek said.

Y/N inspected the body some more before she spoke. “Blunt-force trauma and the same bruising on the thighs, this one is the most violent yet,” she said.

“And the shortest time between kills,” Derek added to which Y/N hummed in agreement.

“Feel’s like he’s trying to break some kind of record,” Brooks said.

“This team has a complicated dynamic. Ultimately, they trust one another,” Derek said looking between Y/N and Brooks.

“They’re still codependent too, enabling each other,” Y/N added. She thought of all the different kinds of relationships that could have this dynamic.

“It sounds like any dysfunctional relationship, how do we narrow that down?” Brooks asked.

“Through her-” Derek pointed at Julie- “The more we can learn about Julie, the better we can understand why they’re doing this.”

------------

After the Derek and Y/N returned to the office, the team began to piece together a profile on who they believed their unsubs were. Y/N stared at the pictures of the bruising on the leg’s of the victim’s, not sure what it was but it felt monachopsis.

“What are you thinking?” Spencer asked Y/N, noticing her staring at the board.

“The bruising, it doesn’t look like any form of torture we’ve seen, it almost doesn’t seem like it is torture,” Y/N explained turning to Spencer.

“Maybe it isn’t, but what else could it be?” He questioned looking at her.

“I don’t know,” Y/N responded with a shrug.

“Guys, we’re ready,” JJ told the two in the room prompting them to follow her to the rest of the team.

“We’re looking for a pair of white males in their late 20s to early 30s, who’ve developed a pattern of overkill followed by remorse,” Hotch explained to the Agents that were scattered throughout the office.

“This usually points to a dominant/submissive partnership,” Y/N said.

“The submissive follows the rules, knows the dominants type. Obtains the victims, and disposes of the body once the dominant has completed his killing ritual,” Spencer explained.

“What is the ritual?” Brooks asked.

“It most likely involves some form of bondage,” Emily began her explanation. “All the victims have identical bruises on their thighs, but we’re not sure if it’s done during capture or kills.”

“There’s no sexual assault, which tells us the dominant is likely impotent or is experimenting with other forms of sexual release,” Rossi said.

“We often refer to this as a ‘thrill kill’,” Derek explained. “The dominant is inducing pain and creating terror without a sexual element.”

“This often provides him some stimulation and excitement, kind of like an adrenaline rush. The thrill of the murder is only a temporary fix,” Y/N said.

“Like any narcotic, the violence satisfies his senses for a time, but then it fades. This is why his cooling-off period is nonexistent,” Derek added.

“Despite a public investigation, the unsubs have continued killing. The risk of getting caught does not trump their need to kill,” JJ said as she looked around at the Agents.

“Thank you,” Hotch said dismissing everyone back to what they were doing.

-----------------

“Julie Harmon was a sexual surrogate,” Derek said walking into the room after talking to Penelope.

“Whoa, sounds like somebody felt like a little progressive prescription might fix everything,” Emily said twirling her pen in the left hand.

“Well, they were wrong,” JJ added.

“That’s not just going from high- to low-risk victims. A sexual surrogate’s a very specific type,” Hotch said.

“It seems like they were trying to fix something, I mean why else would you call a therapist?” Y/N asked.

“They do treat patients with all types of disabilities, whether it’s developmental, physical, or emotional,” Emily explained looking at Y/N.

“My guess is this guy had all three,” Derek began. “I mean, let’s look at physical: he’s got the upper body strength to kill, but the victims bruising tells us that he was using restraints.”

“Only they’re not on the wrists or ankles where restraints usually are, they’re tramline bruises around the thighs,” Rossi said pointing to the bruises on the photo.

“It’s as if the victims are straddling a chair,” Spencer said.

At this Y/N had a click, “What if it’s a wheelchair?”

Spencer turned his head to look at Y/N as they had the same click. “Physical infirmities, with strong arms. That does make sense.”

“That would also explain the van parked in the loading zone, handicap permits grant access all over the city,” JJ said agreeing with the two.

“I’ll call Penelope,” Y/N said stepping out of the room with her phone. She walked down the three steps that led up the room they were in and pressed Penelope’s contact name for her work phone.

“Hiya sugar what can I do for you?” Penelope asked answering the phone.

“Hey Penelope, I need you to look for handicap permits of those in the comfort zone for me, please,” Y/N requested to the woman over the phone.

“Sure thing, also I have to tell you something that’s a little suspicious,” Penelope said making Y/N’s heart beat faster.

“What is it?” She asked with nervousness.

“Caroline Roberts, I put a flag on her in case something suspicious or odd happened to alert me, anyways she hasn’t shown up for work in two weeks,” Penelope explained.

“Oh maybe she just went on vacation or something,” Y/N said trying to reassure herself it was probably nothing.

“Sugar, it wouldn’t have alerted me if that was the case, but don’t you freight because right before she left she bought a ticket to head over to London, now I don’t know what that means, but it does tell me she’s out of reach from here for a while.”

“Okay thanks, Penelope, hit us back with that list?” Y/N asked.

“Faster than you can say my name, I bid you a-do.”

Y/N hung up her phone and entered back into the room with the rest of the team.

----------

Y/N sat with Spencer, JJ, Derek, and Emily in the small conference room. Her eyes were trained on the board looking at all the victims, all different ideas running through her head while the team talked. She wasn’t really listening though, only hearing parts of what they were saying.

“Maybe the caretaker is a woman, by nature, women prefer cleaner disposal methods,” JJ said peaking Y/N to listen to what was being said.

“I don’t know. I mean, that terrain was something serious,” Derek said referring to the dumpsite he went to with Spencer. “No offense, ladies, but Reid and I hiked up that ridge, and there’s no way a woman physically fit or not, could carry dead-weight all that way.”

“And we profiled that the partners in a wheelchair, so that would make it impossible for him to help with disposal,” Emily added in agreement.

Y/N stood up from her seat and walked over to the board to look at the pictures closer. Words scattered between the pictures of the crime scene from them trying to form the profile more.

“So there’s a third person involved, that rarely works there’s usually two against one, ” Derek said.

Y/N trailed back into her thoughts as her eyes darted between the pictures.

“They’d have to trust each other completely, so what kind of relationship involves that dynamic?” Spencer asked.

Y/N’s mind then thought back to something her mother always used to tell her: No matter what we will always protect you Y/N, through hell or high water, because we are your parents.

“What if it’s parents protecting their child?” Y/N asked, turning around quickly from the board to the four sittings. “My parents always told me growing up that they would protect and help me no matter what. So what if this is like that.”

“They raise them, they root for them,” JJ said with realization.

“They would share the same genes,” Emily added.

“Apples don’t fall from the tree,” Y/N agreed.

“A parent would hold themselves accountable for the child being injured, that explains the guilt,” Spencer said.

“Yeah, but what kind of sick family pulls this off?” Derek asked.

“One that’s done it before,” Y/N answered.

“I’ll get Hotch and Rossi,” JJ said standing up to exit the room. The rest of the nodded and waited for her to come back with the.

The five than explained why it was probably a family to Hotch and Rossi. The family probably only had one child because a sibling would be less than likely to participate. If the child was hurt in an accident and the parents felt responsible they would do anything to make them happy.

“Murder probably wasn’t something they planned though, it came as an extreme side effect of the son’s condition,” Y/N explained to Hotch.

“If there was orbital cortex damage from the accident, it would help to explain why killing is his release,” Emily added.

“If the mother has psychopathic tendencies, she could have passed it down through her X chromosome,” Spencer explained.

“Garcia’s looking up accidents now that have the parents at fault,” JJ said.

“That list has to be long,” Rossi spoke as he raised an eyebrow.

“Uh- it is, So she is also looking for unsolved cases in the state,” JJ added.

“There’s a good chance this isn’t the first time the son has acted out,” Y/N explained.

As Y/N finished her statement, JJ’s phone rang.

“Hey, Garcia, you’re on speaker,” she said to her over the phone.

“Okay, the only thing I can find that’s remotely similar to this is from five years ago. A coed at Georgia state was stabbed and left in a park,” Penelope said.

“Did she have bruises on her inner thighs?” Rossi asked.

“Uh, M.E. says…” Penelope paused as she looked for the answer. “Yes, she did.”

“All right, Garcia, check student enrollment for that year for students with campus handicap permits,” Hotch said to the woman on the phone.

“I got a bushel of matches, let’s narrow this down.”

“Look for in-state residents. If the unsub was injured there’s a good chance he stayed close to home,” JJ said.

“Oh, they’re all locals,” Penelope responded.

“The parents would have covered it up, and they would have pulled their son out of school after the murder,” Emily explained.

“Eureka, Jeffery Collins,” Penelope said as she found a match. “He dropped out of school weeks after the murder and have since lived with his parents.”

“What’s his story?” Y/N asked.

“Sending it to you right now, he’s an only child of Linda and Donald Collins. He was a local athlete who became paralyzed in a car accident when he was fifteen.”

“It says here the mother was driving, but the injuries weren’t consistent with being behind the wheel,” Derek said while he looked up from he tablet.

“But the fathers were look-” Spencer pointed to a part of the report on the tablet that Y/N held in her hand- “Broken ribs, ruptured spleen, minor concussion.”

“He’s obviously the one who hit the steering wheel,” Y/N said in agreement.

“Let me guess, the father was drunk,” Rossi said looking over to Y/N.

“Yeah, twice the legal limit,” Penelope answered over the phone.

“Sounds like they switched places and she covered for him,” Y/N said.

“But helping your husband avoid a DUI is far different than helping your son dispose of bodies,” Spencer said as he looked between those around.

“Not necessarily,” Hotch countered. “The mother fixes things, she could have manipulated the husband into making up for his failure.”

“Garcia, you got an address?” Derek asked Penelope over the phone.

“Sending it to you now,” she quickly responded.

------------

“Hotchner,” Hotch said answering his phone. “Okay, we’ll be right there,” he hung up and turned the car around.

“What is it?” Y/N asked as she leaned forward in her seat to adjust her vest.

“Agent Brooks, they just found Donald Collins car wrapped around a telephone pole,” Hotch responded as they headed towards the accident, a mere two minutes from where they already were. The SUV came to a halt as they reached the accident and Hotch, Spencer, Emily, and Y/N piled out of the car.

“Hey guys thanks for getting here so quick,” Brooks said as she approached the four.

“We were on our way to the Collins home when we received the call,” Spencer said as they continued over to the car.

“Donald Collins was behind the wheel, died on impact. We found this in his coat pocket,” Brooks explained handing Emily the letter that was sealed in an evidence bag.

“Let me guess, it’s his confession to all the murders,” Y/N said before she looked at the letter in Emily’s hand.

Agent Brooks nodded her head in response.

“Even in death, he’s still covering for his son,” Emily said showing Hotch and Spencer the letter.

“No one else in the car?” Hotch asked.

“No,” Brooks answered.

“No skid marks, he probably hit the pole going about 65 miles-per-hour,” Spencer said inspecting the asphalt behind the car.

“He committed suicide,” Y/N said while she shook her head in disbelief.

“It looks like he was trying to replicate the accident that made Jeff a paraplegic, this was his ultimate penance,” Emily said.

“Is this their endgame?” Hotch asked.

“If he was trying to replicate the accident, Jeff and Linda would have both been in the car,” Spencer answered, turning to the three on his right.

“So where are they?” Y/N asked.

“Probably still at the house, maybe even with their next victim,” Spencer said.

-----------

“Mom, Mom listen, I promise you the next time I am home I will try to come to visit you I swear-, Y/N said as she brought her mug and Spencer’s over to their seats on the jet.

Spencer mouthed a ‘thank you’ to Y/N as she handed him the mug, which she responded back with a nod as she sat down in her seat.

“No it’s not that I don’t think visiting you isn’t important. You know you’re starting to sound like grandma,” Y/N laughed as she looked at Spencer next to her and then Emily across. “All right will do, love you too, bye.”

It was the next day, the team had arrested Jeffery Collins and were now on their way back home.

“That sounded fun,” Emily said as she looked at Y/N.

“You have no idea,” Y/N laughed. “She told me if she doesn’t get to meet Spencer, or any of the rest of you guys really, sometime soon, she’s going to through a fit.”

The three laughed but they halted as they saw JJ walk up and sit down next to Emily, a look of defeat on her face.

“Still no sitter?” Emily asked the blonde.

“My sitter is not available,” JJ explained. “Apparently I have a better chance at winning the lottery than getting a sitter for a Saturday night.”

“What’s going on tonight?” Spencer asked.

“Ladies Night,” Y/N said as she looked over at Spencer next to her. His eyes trained on a book in his lap.

“It was but, I forgot to book a sitter,” JJ said.

“I’ll do it,” Spencer said.

The three women turned their heads to look at him. All having the same questioning and unsure look on their faces.

“Spence,” JJ said trying to protest.

“What? I’ve seen an episode of ‘Mr. Belvedere’,” Spencer said trying to prove he could do it.

“I don’t know if that would help, bub,” Y/N said patting his arm sweetly. The nickname just slipping out but no one questioned it.

“And you’ve never babysat by yourself before,” JJ added.

“You know- uh- he could do a couple of hours,” Emily said looking between Y/N and JJ.

“What could possibly go wrong?” Spencer asked.

“Well now that you said that, something definitely will,” Y/N said, her superstitious side showing.

“Alright fine,” JJ caved.

“Whooo!” Spencer cheered obnoxiously loud as they stood gate side of Hotch’s triathlon. “Couple hours, Couple hours! You guys didn’t even come home till sunrise,” he said looking at the four very hungover women.

Their eyes were covered with their sunglasses as they leaned against the gate, heads pounding from the cheers and alcohol.

“Why are yelling,” JJ said as she looked up then away from Spencer.

“Make him stop,” Emily said looking down to Y/N who stood beside Spencer.

“With pleasure,” Y/N said, getting up from her position of leaning against the gate to than grabbing Spencer’s face. “Spencer, I really don’t want to slap that pretty little face of yours I adore so much-” Spencer blushed at Y/N’s words- “but if you do not stop yelling I will.”

He nodded his head as she let go of his face and laid her head on his arm.

“Okay, hey Jack earmuffs for a minute, earmuffs,” Derek said tapping Hotch’s son that sat on his shoulders. “What did you guys drink last night?”

“The green fairy, you’re in the FBI, can you make the crowd stop cheering?” Penelope pleaded to Derek next to her.

“By my estimates, Hotch will be finishing any minute now,” Spencer said looking at his watch, making Y/N lift her head as his arm moved.

“Do you see him, Uncle Dave?” Jack asked as he looked down at Rossi from Derek’s shoulders.

“I think I do kiddo, right there!” Rossi said as he pointed to Hotch running down the course.

Y/N clapped along with JJ and Emily and winced at Spencer’s loud cheering but let it slide since it was for Hotch. Hotch smiled as he saw the team cheering for him as he crossed the finish line. When he crossed, the team walked over to the table he was getting his water and medal from, Jack beating them all there as he was so excited to congratulate his dad.

“Did you see my sign?” Jack asked, jumping excitedly.

“I did, that’s for you, buddy,” Hotch said placing a medal around Jack’s next he was given.

“Look at you, how do you feel?” Rossi asked.

“I think I’m gonna live,” responded Hotch as he took another sip of his water.

“Pretty impressive, I had money on the swim killing you,” Emily laughed.

“My bet was the bike ride,” Y/N added, grabbing Spencer’s hand and then laying her head on his arm again.

“I practiced,” Hotch said still trying to regain his breath.

“And it paid off, good job,” Derek said congratulating Hotch.

“Thank you.”

“Hey, you guys want to go get something to eat?” Spencer asked the team.

“Yeah, something greasy,” JJ said pushing her sunglasses up her nose.

“Oh yeah,” Emily agreed.

“Please,” Y/N added.

“Hotchner!” A voice of a woman was heard making the team turn their heads.

“Beth! Jack, there’s somebody I want you to meet,” Hotch said guiding his son over to, the now identified, Beth.

“Awe,” Y/N said at the cute moment they were watching.

The team laughed at Y/N’s audible feelings and began to walk as they saw Hotch lead Beth and Jack towards their group.

--------------

Y/N and Spencer walked into Y/N’s apartment together after eating lunch with the rest of the team. Spencer came with her to grab some of the things he left from the other night staying there.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom real quick,” Y/N told Spencer who nodded back with a tight-lipped smile.

After Spencer grabbed his things he placed them on the round table that was to the left of Y/N’s kitchen. His eyes became drawn to the white envelope with a wax seal with a bird imprint on it. Curiosity getting the better of him, he picked it up inspecting it. Before he could open it though, Y/N walked back into the room.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” She asked as she approached Spencer.

He turned around to face her, showing her the letter in his hand. Her face grew white with horror, she hadn’t received a letter in 3 weeks.

“Where- where was that?” She asked, walking over and grabbing it out of Spencer’s hand, beginning to open it frantically.

“On the table,” he responded pointing to where it laid on the table previously.

“Oh god,” Y/N said, knowing that meant she had gotten into her apartment somehow this time.

“Y/N, what’s wrong, what is it?” Spencer asked trying to get answers from her.

“Agh,” Y/N said softly as she cut herself on the paper from the envelope.

“Hey, hey, slow down,” Spencer told her, grabbing the envelope from her hand.

“Will you please just open it and read to me what it says,” she said sitting in the chair she pulled out from the table, placing her head in her hands.

“Yeah-yeah, sure,” he responded opening the letter. “ ‘Nothing lasts forever Y/N’ from C.R., what is this, who’s C.R.?”

Y/N thought back to the dream she had a couple of nights ago before they left.

“Nothing lasts forever Y/N, you know that.”

The voice echoed in her head. She lifted her head up from her hands looking at Spencer who had kneeled himself in front of her.

“Caroline Roberts,” she told him. “Spencer I need to tell you something.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!!):

@throughparisallthroughrome @word-scribbless @nintendumbfuck @confused-and-really-hungry @justine-en @andiebeaword @itsarayofsunshine @baby-i-am-fireproof @abitofeverythinggg

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #derek morgan #derek morgan imagine #criminal minds meme

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superblizzardfire · 4 years ago

Text

The Surprise Gift (Bruce & Kamala)

(AO3 Link)

Kamala wasn’t expecting any presents for her seventeenth birthday. But the universe gave her a surprise one anyway…

‘Food poisoning,’ she gasped, shaking as she knelt over the toilet. ‘Figures.’

‘I suspect the pre-packaged egg mayonnaise sandwiches were to blame, Miss Khan,’ said JARVIS.

‘Yeah, I thought they tasted funny.’ She’d woken up feeling nauseous, taken one sip of water and immediately dashed to the bathroom to throw up. Now she gripped the cold metal of the bowl and unleashed a second wave, the burning in her throat bringing tears to her eyes. It was her own fault. But supply runs were inconsistent, and they had to eat when they could.

On the plus side, at least she was throwing up in a bathroom on the Chimera, the iconic helicarrier that was once home to the Avengers (and now housed only one).

‘Shall I inform Doctor Banner?’ asked JARVIS.

‘No! God no, I don’t want him to see me like this!’ Sweat-soaked hair and vomit-stained Captain America pyjamas. Not a good look, and she’d already embarrassed herself in front of one of her childhood heroes this week. She’d been singing along to Cheap Thrills in her room, not realising that she was broadcasting herself through the whole ship. She hadn’t been able to meet Bruce's eye for the rest of the day.

For the last three weeks, they’d been searching for Tony Stark. JARVIS kept bringing up false leads, so they travelled from country to country, flying out in the Quinjet for supply runs and reconnaissance missions. It sounded like something from Kamala’s most self-indulgent fanfics: a secret mission where she and Doctor Banner set out to reassemble the Avengers, five years after they were split apart. It was literally the coolest thing that had ever happened to her… except it wasn’t turning out to be as fun as she’d hoped.

When she’d vomited up what felt like everything she had, Kamala clambered up and flushed away the eggy mess before rinsing out her mouth. The Chimera wasn’t fully operational yet: no hot water, and everything was filmed with dust. She stared at herself in the mirror, panting. Yup, she looked like an absolute mess. On her birthday. This sucked.

‘Uh, hey Kamala? Are you up?’ Bruce's voice echoed through the room.

Crap. ‘Morning, Bruce!’ she said brightly, then shut her eyes tightly as the room seemed to spin around her. ‘What’s up?’

‘I’m just running a few tests on those energy weapons we found. I could use a hand, if you’ve got a minute?’ Bruce always seemed to think he was being a bother. He could make “pass the salt” sound like he was asking a huge favour. ‘Only if you’re not busy.’

‘Sure thing,’ she gasped. ‘I’ll be right – oh god – ‘ She lurched back to the toilet as another wave of nausea swept over her. With nothing left to bring up, her stomach clenched painfully.

‘Are you okay? Kamala?’

But she couldn’t reply. Her breath came in harsh sobs through gritted teeth. She was trying so hard to do her job here, to help Bruce find the Avengers and to hold her own in the fighting. But she didn’t feel like an adult. She felt like a scared kid in disguise. And now she felt like death, it was difficult to maintain that charade.

The beep of the door unlocking was the only warning she got before Bruce ran into the room. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, it’s just food poisoning. I’ll be down in a minute, I promise.’ She squinted up at him. Bruce wore his usual purple shirt and pants (Hulk had ruined at least five of those shirts, how many did he have?) with his glasses perched on the end of his nose. His arms were folded as he stared down at her in concern.

He sighed. ‘I told you not to eat the egg sandwiches.’

‘You ate them just fine.’

‘Well, I’m immune to food poisoning. You’re not. And you’re not coming down to the lab, okay? You need to rest.’ He spoke gently, but she still felt she’d let him down somehow. ‘Take the day off.’

They couldn’t afford to take days off. They needed to find Tony. Now because of her they’d be behind. Black Widow would have been stronger than this. Anyone other than Kamala would be stronger than this. But she felt so awful that she just said in a small voice, ‘Okay.’

‘Okay,’ Bruce echoed. Then he started backing out of the door. ‘I’m just gonna go… do some things. Can I um, get you anything? Bring you anything?’

Kamala burst into tears.

‘Hey, it’s gonna be okay.’ Bruce crossed the room and knelt beside her, all awkwardness momentarily forgotten.

‘I’m sorry, it’s just – so hard sometimes,’ she sobbed. ‘I want to go home and see my family and just have a normal life, and I know I can’t because we have a job to do and – ‘

‘You’re allowed to want those things. You’re only human.’

Except she wasn’t, was she? Not quite. She was a human with superpowers, and that meant she had a responsibility to protect others. But right now she wasn’t sure she could even protect herself. The tears kept coming, and her chest shuddered with uneven breaths. She wanted to curl up on the cold bathroom floor and pass out.

She swayed, and Bruce held her shoulder to steady her. ‘You’re going to burn yourself out. No one can be on top form all the time. I’m pretty useless for days after Hulking out, and you don’t judge me for it. I think you’re allowed to have a bad day.’

Kamala leaned forward and hid her face in his shoulder. He stiffened in surprise, then hesitantly wrapped his arms around her in a hug. ‘It’s my birthday,’ she sniffled.

‘Today? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Didn’t want it to be a big deal. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.’ She closed her eyes, knowing that her forehead would feel hot against his shoulder.

Bruce's low, gentle voice rumbled in her ear. ‘Okay. You’re going to stay here and get some rest, doctor’s orders. JARVIS can keep an eye on you. Can you stand?’

She could, but leaned heavily on him as he helped her walk back to bed. ‘Sorry I got sick on your shirt,’ she mumbled.

‘I’ve got plenty of spares, don’t worry.’ He brought her a cup of water and an empty bucket from the pile in the corner of the room. ‘Call me if you need anything, okay?’

‘Thanks, Bruce.’ She lay down and drew the blankets over herself. Bruce lingered a few moments longer, clearly searching for something else to say, then awkwardly edged out of the room. Kamala gazed out of the window until she fell asleep.

When she woke up, it was afternoon. Her head hurt and her mouth tasted awful, but the nausea seemed to have passed. She checked her phone and found birthday messages from family and friends, which raised her spirits a little. When she reached for the water beside the bed, there was a packet of plain crackers and some ibuprofen there too. Bruce must have returned to check on her.

Then Kamala spotted the parcel at the foot of the bed.

A slow smile grew on her face as she picked it up. It was thick and rectangular, and wrapped in thin graph paper from the lab. An effort had been made to liven it up with stars drawn in blue and red ballpoint pen.

She unwrapped it slowly. It was a thick, spiralbound notebook. The edges of the paper had been coloured neon blue (presumably using a salvaged highlighter), and the front cover had been replaced with a homemade one: a printed photograph from five years ago. A smiling Kamala posed with the Avengers whilst coloured streamers fell around them. It was one of the best memories of her life, and despite the events that had occurred after it, the sight still made her smile. ‘Thanks, Bruce,’ she whispered.

When she turned to the first page, there was a message written in small, neat script:

Happy Birthday Kamala! I hope this comes in useful. You’re an amazing writer, don’t forget how far you’ve come.

Bruce

Writing had always been Kamala’s passion, although since they’d embarked on their Avengers quest she hadn’t given it much thought. She certainly hadn’t entertained any fanfiction ideas; it felt weirder to write it when you knew the characters you were writing about. Maybe she could try something new, though.

She dug out a pen from her bag. Even the simple weight of a notebook in her lap brought her a comforting familiarity. That even aboard the Chimera, far from home, she could slip away into a world of her choosing. No bad guys to fight or buildings to destroy. Just the simple act of creating something for the fun of it.

Kamala clicked her pen, snuggled down under the covers, and began to write.

#Bruce Banner #Kamala Khan #Marvel's Avengers #Avengers Game #my fic #Blizzard plays Avengers #first in the fandom tag on AO3!

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liloelsagranger · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 9: The wash (Viridian Love Story - Pokémon fanfiction)

Finally, finally a new chapter. Enjoy!

Chapter 9: The wash

Misty stared at them in disbelief. “What is the wash? Is it dangerous?” she wanted to know, even though she could already guess the answer. Jessie and James nodded in agreement, Jessie was the first to find words again and explain the facts.

“The wash is performed by Hypno. As the name suggests, he hypnotizes his victims and makes his way into their memory. All memories that could either be useful or pose a threat to Team Rocket are extracted and preserved, but the prisoners are left without any memory of their past and eke out an existence as lifeless shells, like ghosts”, she explained.

If there was still a small glimmer of hope in Misty, it had just been extinguished. She slumped down and sobbed. Ash carefully put an arm around his friend. This could not be her definite fate. Her family was perhaps still alive, but could no longer remember their own daughter?

“Is there any way to reverse the hypnosis so that the memory comes back?” Ash asked. James fussed, not wanting to give them false hope, yet he had heard of some rumors. “There are reports of people who have been hypnotized but still have occasional lucid moments and can remember their past lives. At least that is what I heard when we once accidentally barged into a conference”, he shrugged his shoulders.

“Meowth, that’s right. I can confirm that, because it was all about a planned escape attempt by a prisoner who could suddenly remember everything. Unfortunately, they were able to catch him and he is now serving an even harder sentence in the maximum security section of the prison.”

Misty had to let all the information sink in. Her head was about to explode, there was so much they had to consider if they wanted to save her parents. But she was determined to give everything and, if necessary, to put her own life on the line.

“I’d say let’s got for it! Ash, Brock, are you with me?” The guys nodded their heads. Now Misty turned to Team Rocket.

“I know we haven’t always been best friends, we have our differences, we have our strengths and weaknesses, but now is the time for a truce because this is a matter of life and death. You bring the necessary know-how; I bring the longing for my family. Only together can we face this adventure. Even though we didn’t always get along, I ask you to help me out; and believe me, this is anything but easy for me”, a faint smile flitted across Misty’s face. James returned the smile and held out his hand to her.

“We’re in! But I warn you, it will be dangerous, very dangerous! We risk our heads if they catch us, but at least one of us deserves the security of a loving family,” thus the matter was decided and they started the journey.

After several hours of hiking, it was finally time to take a break and have some dinner. Brock, who continued to hone his cooking skills, offered to prepare a meal for his friends that they would never forget. But he needed everyone’s help and support to make it a real feast. James and Meowth had volunteered to gather firewood and had only recently set out into the dark woods. The cat Pokémon noticed days ago that James had woken up on the wrong side of the planet. The guilty conscience gnawed at his teammate and almost made him despair.

“You need to talk to her!” Meowth insisted that James would finally talk turkey, but the young man was not up to the challenge yet. James heaved a deep sigh.

“You know, Meowth, sometimes I wish Hypno would cast a spell on me too and erase all memories of my messed up childhood and adolescence. By that I mean the terrible time with my parents, the bad days and weeks with Jessiebelle, the beatings, the torture, the endless hours of piano lessons, the bullying, the desperate attempts of my environment to educate me to become a gentleman.”

It was hard for James to talk about these things, but Meowth knew the answer to his problem. He made his friend pause and put a paw on his shoulder.

“Jessie can help you with all your worries. She is your safe rock, and you can always rely on her. She has never let you down, even when you ignored her feelings or stepped on them. She likes you, James, everyone can see that. You must finally dare to talk to her”, Meowth wanted to be persuasive. ”You’re right, my friend. Tonight, I will face my fears.”

The adventurers enjoyed their festive meal. Brock had outdone himself, there were mashed potatoes, rice balls, steak and sausages, chocolate pudding with fresh strawberries and a cream cake garnished with cherries. Team Rocket’s stomachs growled; they hadn’t eaten something so delicious in years. A few hours passed, during which the new acquaintances talked about old times, about every botched trap Team Rocket had ever set for the twerps, about all the funny costumes they had used to fool Ash, Misty and Brock. There was a lot of laughter and some tears were shed too.

Ash yawned heartily. “I’m going to bed. Tomorrow will be another busy day”, he pulled Misty with him and they disappeared into their three-person-tent, which they shared with Brock. Their friend followed them shortly afterwards and Meowth made himself comfortable in the thicket of trees. Only Jessie and James were left.

No one dared to take the first step, but then James finally found words. “Jessie,” he began. She looked at him with her big sapphire blue eyes. “Yes?”

James cleared his throat. He reached for her hand and stroked it vey gently, running his fingers along her delicate hand. He was already fighting tears, he wanted to stay strong, but the emotions got the better of him.

“It’s okay, James,” Jessie caressed his face, but James shook his head.

“No! Nothing’s okay,” he sobbed. “I almost lost you once, I don’t want that to happen to me again. I felt what it means not to have you by my side anymore and it hurt inhumanly. It ate at me and I could no longer grasp a clear thought. Then you came back to me and the world was all right again. I had not lost you to that doctor. And what do I do? I take advantage of you and your feelings, I hurt you and put the blame on you. I’m so sorry for everything, Jess. You’re all I’ve got! You’re my guardian angel, you saved me from Jessiebelle and I can’t be grateful enough!” Tears ran down his cheeks, James’ eyes were red from all crying.

“Will you forgive me, Jess?” There was still the faintest hope in his request. Jessie smiled gently at him and nodded. Suddenly, all the weight that threatened to crush him was blown away. He felt so free and light-hearted. He would have loved to kiss his best friend, caress her and hold her tightly in his arms, but Jessie had already sunk into a deep sleep. So he interlaced his fingers with hers until he too began to dream.

#pokemon #teamrocket #fanfiction #rocketshipping #james #jessie #ash #satoshi #musashi #kojiro #meowth #nyarth #takeshi #misty #brock #update #viridianlovestory #fanfic #chapter #new

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lihikainanea · 5 years ago

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Can we discuss Tiger acknowledging Gustaf’s sensual essence. She’s not attracted to him in a legit way, but she recognizes how he’s just a walking sexual being and Bill finds this out and is just like please no. He’s a little jealous but also insecure cause that’s his big bro who he’s closest to and that’s his rock. Bill feels all the feelings.

Look man, Gustaf’s sensual essence is just....it’s impossible to ignore. I know little to nothing about this human, and yet I feel like I know his soul. Gustaf is good people. He’s calm people. He’s kind people. And while I’m still reeling from that sweet, sweet--god SO SWEET photo of him and his grandmother that he posted awhile ago (I think it was Mother’s Day in Europe?I can’t remember) but he’s just....Gustaf is one of those dudes that you never quite get over. Even if you’ve broken up, even if it’s years down the line, somehow--you always still think about a dude like Gustaf. And you wonder. You wonder if he’s well, if he’s found someone he's happy with. You wonder what he’s up to, if he ever ended up getting that motorcycle that he could never shut up about. You wonder if he still drinks his coffee black, if he still takes a bubble bath at least once a week and listens to Enya. You just...wonder.

But like look, you know what gets me here? Is maybe tiger acknowledges his sensuality, his mystique, in a far more subtle way--which in turn, just makes Bill so much more angry.

Hear me out.

So I like to think of tiger as a little ball of absolute fucking fire--she’s bitey, snappy, sassy, angry all the time and quite loud about it. She’s just hell on wheels, and Bill is her big calm dude who is always even-keeled and mild mannered. Ever notice how big dudes tend to be the most gentle? They tend to be the calmest? It’s because they know they can win the fight. All these other little dudes have to puff their chests out like peacocks, full of machismo and male ego, trying to prove a point. Big dudes are rarely like that. They don’t gotta prove nothin’.

In any case, maybe it’s the famed Skarsgard family camping trip and tiger has been even more high strung because of work stress. Tiger is basically being insufferable to Valter, and she’s sniping at Bill but he’s taking it in stride because he loves her anger. Gustaf though, Gustaf just watches it all calmly. Gustaf plots. He observes, but then he waits.

And maybe when tiger is having tea out by the dock, he comes over with a big blanket, undoes it, places it on her lap.

“Did you know,” he starts lowly, sitting down and resting his forearms on his knees, “That your shoulders are up by your ears?”

Tiger glares.

“All that tension must hurt,” he said, “Come on, take a deep breath.”

And tiger--like any warm blooded female--tiger has a bit of a soft spot for Gustaf. He’s not one you sass. So instead she huffs a bit because she just has to voice her displeasure somehow, but then she does it--takes a big, deep inhale through her nose, and breathes it out slowly through her mouth.

“Good,” he says, “Stand up for a second.”

And the difference is, Gustaf--much like Bill--doesn’t give tiger a chance to say no. He stands, takes her mug and places it on the table, then pulls her up gently, walking behind her.

“I tend to carry all of my tension right....here,” he pokes between her shoulder blades and she’s wound so tightly that she flinches, “And it seems you do too.”

Two big hands wrap around her shoulders, and she instinctively stands a little taller.

“Deep breath again,” he says. Tiger inhales, and on the exhale, Gustaf pulls her shoulders back. She nearly sags in relief, feeling the ball of tension in her back easing.

“Again,” he says, “And this time, try to pull away from me.”

So she takes a deep breath, and as he pulls her shoulders towards him, she resists and tries to pull them forward.

“Oh my god,” she moans at the deep stretch, “Oh fuck.”

He makes her do it three more times, and at the end he just runs his hands down her arms, throws the blanket over her shoulders.

“Tomorrow morning,” he says, “Sunrise. Out here.”

“Oh, no. No no. I don’t do mornings. I sleep through sunrises.”

But he smiles gently, runs a thumb across the deep bags under one eye.

“You’re not sleeping at all these days,” he says. And without another word, he retreats into the house.

And like, look. For a solid week, tiger joins him out on that dock, and he starts introducing her to yoga. Maybe a bit of meditation. Just very, very gentle stuff--no tough poses, nothing that hurts, just focused a lot more on breathing. And tiger is....slowly becoming much more peaceful, under his tutelage. And she starts to cherish those mornings, because Gustaf is sensual but tiger doesn’t feel it in a sensual way. She kind of just...she wants to cuddle Gustaf. Just wants to be in his presence, because he’s so incredibly calming and so nurturing. Gustaf is good people, he always was. So tiger spends nearly every morning with him and she comes back refreshed, calm, positive, invigorated. And Bill isn’t really any the wiser, because he sleeps like a log with the country air and tiger is usually back before he can even wake up.

But Bill notices one rainy afternoon, when they’re all in the living room playing Mario Kart. She’s on the couch and he’s on the floor in front of her, her legs over his shoulders as he strokes idly at them, his nose in a book. But he’s keeping an eye on the screen--and this is the fifth straight round that tiger has lost spectacularly. She’s either gone flying off the rainbow road or Valter has annihilated her with a tortoise shell of death--every round--and Bill flinches a little, in anticipation of the impending storm. He waits for it, ready to catch the controller that will for sure go flying by his head en route to his brother’s, maybe he even grips her ankle a little tighter to get a better hold in case she decides to fling HERSELF at Valter’s head. He clenches his jaw, wincing already and just hoping the trail of cusswords isn’t screamed too loudly or too closely to his ear.

But instead, he hears the controller be placed gently back on the couch, and he hears tiger take in three deep breaths--calming, rhythmic, steadying. And he peers up at her curiously just in time to see her eyes reopening, her shoulders lowering back to their normal position. And he’s just about to ask her if she’s feeling alright, until it happens.

It happens.

Gustaf reaches over, and gently taps the back of his knuckles on her bicep.

“Atta girl,” he says, “Doesn’t that feel better?”

Bill’s blood runs cold.

And it’s not that he thinks Gustaf would ever do something, it’s not that he thinks TIGER would ever do something--it’s just that Gustaf’s aura is addictive, it’s undeniable, and Bill is a jealous bean when it comes to his Little Human. And this type of thing happens all the time with brothers, it’s normal. Bill isn’t threatened so much as he is just...a little irrational about it all. And he’s also pretty disturbed because he loves tiger’s fire, and he loves his role in it--tiger gets all up in ends about everything and it’s Bill’s job to smooth it out, calm her down, make her feel better. He likes being that person for her, he likes being her balm and her sense of reason with everything.

And in true Bill fashion, I’ll bet he lets it eat away at him for the entire day. Doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even squeak when Gustaf and tiger get into a really deep conversation about the powers of the psyche, the depths of the mind, ways of using emotions to control physical reactions in your body. Tantra. Bill doesn’t say a word.

But later on that night as they’re getting ready for bed, tiger pulls him down for a sweet kiss.

“I like this,” she runs her thumb over his scruff, “It’s sexy.”

“Why didn’t you yell at Valter?” he asks suddenly. Tiger looks at him, confused.

“What?”

“Valter needs to be yelled at,” Bill pulls his face from her hands and walks over to the door, opening it and jutting his chin.

“Go yell at him.”

Tiger is dumbfounded, and Bill eventually sighs heavily and slams the door shut a little too hard.

“Why are you so calm?” he demands.

“Why are you so...not calm?” she asks, “Bud, what’s going on?”

“Tiger, I like your fire. I like that you’re just....always angry. Because then I get to be the one who comes in and...helps. And I know you don’t need my help, but I like being that guy for you. I like that you get all angry and pissed off and that you snap at everything, because I like how it feels when I’m the only one who can talk you down,” he say, “Until, apparently, I’m not the only one who can talk you down.”

But tiger’s not an idiot. She knows there’s more.

“And what else?” she prompts. Bill shifts those big eyes of his, but tiger just crosses her arms.

“And you’re in love with Gustaf,” he mutters.

“There it is.”

She sighs, walks to him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Bill, I’m not in love with Gustaf,” she says, “He has good energy. He was showing me tricks to try and relax a bit more.”

“But he’s....tiger, every single female on this planet is in love with Gustaf,” he pouts, “All this energy meditative calming tantra bullshit. He’s all sensual and mysterious and--”

“Bill,” she cuts him off, “So are you. Do you ever wonder maybe where you might get that from?”

His pout deepens, but he stays silent.

“Buddy, you have the closest bond with Gustaf because you two are so much alike,” she continues, “You have good in your soul. You have kindness in your soul, god just the way you take care of me is incredible. Your calm nature, your empathy. These things can't be taught, but they can be cherished and nurtured. And I think Gustaf did that for you.”

She plunks her head on his chest, puckers her lips for a kiss and he bends slightly, lays a soft peck on her mouth.

“I’m intrigued by Gustaf. Calm people intrigue me. But I’m not in love with Gustaf. I’m not even attracted to Gustaf.” she says, “It’s you, Billy Goat. You. You you you.”

He kisses her softly again, but then he pouts.

“There’s a ‘u’ in Gustaf.”

“Bill.”

#family drama #BFF!Bill #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard drama #gustaf #I still want Gustaf to like...fuck my soul

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storyplease · 4 years ago

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So I finally watched “Rise of the Guardians” and I have some thoughts about the major themes in the film...

Anyway, so I know this is a kid’s film or whatever, and I know that this probably WAYYY too in the weeds as far as thoughts are concerned, but what is Tumblr even good for if you can’t rant about fictional characters in peace?

Potential spoilers below cut...

Anyway, so the movie centers around mythical character such as the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, etc, who can be argued are literally and figuratively “unbelievable” beings that require the faith of children (not necessarily the actual knowledge of their existence) to exist. In many ways, they play by the same rules as the American Gods in Neil Gaiman’s story of the same name. But I digress (a theme in my writing, yes?). One of the biggest themes in the movie is the idea of a “center”- each mythical entity has a an unusual “spark” of something that makes them worthy (from what appears to be upon their death) of becoming more than human.

So for example:

Santa Claus: Miracles/Wonder

Easter Bunny: Rebirth/Hope

Tooth Fairy: Remembrance/Connection

Sandy: Joy/Peace

It is established that all of the characters used to be mortal at some point or other, so the universe appears to have a deus ex machina (the Man in the Moon, who appears to run everything, but more on that later) who “decides” when someone is to be bestowed with powers...but who is also rendered intangible to the human beings they depend on for their power to grow until they prove themselves (mostly to children, because children tend to easily trust and believe in all manner of thing without a shred of evidence, and would therefore be much easier to convince to pledge their loyalty to)...somehow.

One of the big parts of Jack Frost’s story arc is that he doesn’t have any memories of who he was before he awoke with his abilities. He doesn’t remember his family or have the ability to have connections with mortals directly, and yet some people do mention his name without seeing him, so it appears that he is able to scrape power here and there. It is also worth mentioning that all of the Guardians appear to be aware of and can interact with Jack, but that they have chosen not to for over 400 years other than a few times where Jack has tried to playfully interact only to be shut down or retaliated against.

When he finally finds his memories, everyone acts really surprised, but it seems odd that this would never have come up before, especially since the Tooth Fairy appears to swoon/love his teeth and might have brought it up (but we shall forgive her a bit as she appears to be absurdly busy running the tooth empire to end all tooth empires).

But the most important part of this revelation is that a lot of Jack Frost’s negative character traits are specifically because he is lonely and has nobody else. He spends his life interacting with a world that cannot see or touch him. Therefore, his center (fun/mischief) becomes twisted and he causes trouble.

When he realizes his past and is able to connect with both mortal children and the other Guardians, his character blossoms! He becomes confident, protective, fun and wisecracking but without malice or bitterness.

He comes into his own, and his power increases.

Which brings me to...you guessed it...the main antagonist of the film.

The character of Pitch is obviously the bad guy. He’s dark, scary, looks kinda like he’s never brushed his teeth unless the toothpaste was made of coal, and is in general menacing and terrifying. He harms the characters, terrifies the children and generally drives the plot for his own selfish ends. After all, he’s known as the “boogeyman.”

His main traits appear to be a penchant for darkness (creating it and hiding in shadow) and causing fear. His lair appears to be in a hole underground that is situated under an old and rotting bed frame. Now there’s a lot of this that could just be taken on the nose. After all, there’s a reason that “there’s a monster under your bed” is a semi-universal kid’s fear.

There’s even a terrible pun about Pitch having a great time in the “Dark Ages.”

The thing is, darkness can mean a lot of things. And so can fear.

Let me back up a bit so I can explain what I’m getting at:

Awhile back, I read an amazingly insightful book called The Gift Of Fear. It has a lot of very good advice on recognizing and using the fear response to protect your safety and your life. Fear is often overlooked as a silly, primal thing, especially when we talk about children and things that go bump in the night, but there is a very good reasons why humans feel a variety of kinds of fear, and many of them are actively useful in preserving your life.

Darkness is essential to life. The day ends, and night falls. Shadows follow our moves and do as we do. Even the human eye cannot bear blue light at night, and artificial lighting has been touted as all kinds of unhealthy by experts and doctors alike.

None of these things are actively evil or wrong, to be sure.

But Pitch has something in common with Jack Frost. And what is that? Why, he is ignored. Nobody believes in him (which I find silly to be honest because I know plenty of kids afraid of the dark or who have nightmares and such).

The whole thing- the theatrical posing, the big scary Villain speech...in the end, Pitch was doing just the same thing that Jack did when he antagonized the Easter Bunny by ruining the egg hunt with frost. He wanted people to pay attention to him, to like him. And because nobody would do so, he decided that negative attention was still attention.

This is backed up by the fact that none of the children are harmed by his nightmare horses when faced with him (they turn into golden sand when touched). They even say, even with thousands of scary black nightmares bearing down on them, that they aren’t scared of him and will protect the Guardians.

I feel like Pitch is overlooking a couple of things when he is trying his ridiculous plan to rule the world in darkness.

First off, he’s backed himself into a corner- he plays the bad guy, of course he isn’t going to win against the heroes. And to some extent, it’s pretty obvious that he knows it. For all his posturing, he often pulls his punches, and even when he destroys Jack’s staff, he still throws it down on the ground and does not take it with him because he is trying to get Jack to see beyond his limitations just as he himself has learned to harness the sand with his darkness.

Secondly, just because kids love Santa and Easter and gifts from tooth fairies, not all kids have perfect upper-middle-class lives like the children in this movie. There is a reason why there are a surprisingly large number of hand-drawn comics that deal with a child making friends with the monster under the bed or even being protected by said monster against an abusive parent or family member.

My feeling here is that Pitch hasn’t truly realized what his purpose is, and that he is actually being held back because....

Pitch’s center is fear.

There’s a reason he’s portrayed as having a lair under a shabby, rotting bed, in darkness. When he was human, his life must have been hellish. I can imagine him hiding in the shadows of his room, crouched under the bed in darkness because the fear of what his father or mother might do to him was eating him alive. In fact, he may have died in that manner, terrified out of his mind and knowing only the darkness to hide him. If this is what the Man in the Moon deemed worthy to change him into his post-mortal form, then is any of this truly his fault?

I might say...no. Being awoken from a hellish world where you are in constant fear to a world in which fear and darkness are the only thing that strengthen you would be its own sort of hell.

We don’t get to see Pitch’s past, but ostensibly the Tooth Fairy has it and knows of it. A tooth is knocked out at the end, so ostensibly it will go in Pitch’s box, or the box of whoever he was when he was mortal.

But furthermore, what if Pitch were able to change the way he thinks about his power and his strength? What if he uses his darkness to conceal children who are in danger, or helps those who are imprisoned to escape? What if he guides children away from danger by using their fear to guide them? What I am saying is that “playing the villain” seems to be the most obvious thing when you’ve only ever known an existence in which you are hated and told you are wrong and bad.

However, if we really sit down and think about it, colored eggs and toys are no more “good” than shielding the weak and vulnerable with your shadows and putting the fear of...something that bumps in the night in the hearts of predators while guiding the fear of the young from forks in outlets and jumps from high places.

In the end, locking a being like Pitch away is a foolish idea because in his loneliness in the darkness, his fear and terror will only grow, driving him into madness in his isolation. Pitch not only has to learn to conquer his own fears (fear or being rejected, fear of being hated) but to also realize that he can be more than a flat villainous character if he wishes to thrive.

He just has to get past the fear.

#rise of the guardians #meta #jack frost #pitch #on fear #on lonliness #tw for light descriptions of abusive behavior

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sohin-ace · 5 years ago

Text

Josuke - Ghost

This is cross-posted from Wattpad and available on AO3.

Enjoy~

Ghost! Fem! reader x Josuke

There was something wrong with Josuke these days and he knew it. Ever since the beginning of that summer it felt like all the weirdest events kept happening.

As if having a serial killer on the loose in town wasn't enough, he started to see someone. It happened very suddenly, he was alone in his bedroom when he heard a faint and feminine voice.

It was like she was calling for help, but when she finally appeared in front of him, he was close to shitting his pants, fainting and having a heart attack, all at the same time.

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!"

When he saw the spirit, his first thought was that you were a Stand, and he immediately called his own, ready to beat the crap out of you.

By some miracle, you managed to calm him down and explain to him that you weren't a Stand at all. That would explain why you were sentient and could form actual coherent sentences.

Josuke kept on seeing that ghost in his house every other day. At first he was obviously freaked out and wanted to call an exorcist or more conveniently, Jotaro to help him get rid of her.

But at the end of the day, she was very sweet and he took a liking to her. He didn't mind the compagny and she made him get his mind off things. Call him crazy, but at this point in his life, nothing could get any weirder.

"Hey, did you always live here or did you suddenly found yourself in my house?" He asked after being accustomed to your frequent visits.

"I roamed into the endless void until I felt something connecting me to this place, that's why I'm here."

He shuddered. What a morbid choice of words. "Well you sure know how to spook people..."

You chuckled. "I still wonder why I suddenly latched on this house. I didn't mean to haunt you."

He shivered again as he rolled to the side of his bed. Why was the room so cold? He got up to put something on his back and warm himself up.

"Are you making the temperature drop or something with your ghostliness? It's summer but I'm freezing!"

"Hmm, maybe it's my voice." It was true that your soft voice held a distant resonnance to it that made you sound quite litteraly out of this world. This always intrigued him, but he was charmed by it.

"Or maybe it's because I'm..."

"Don't do it." He warned, only expecting a bad ghost pun from you, but you only smiled a big grin and striked an impossible pose.

"...Drop dead gorgeous?"

"GET OUTTA HERE!"

You both laughed at your goofiness and had a great time. Despite you being a ghost, Josuke couldn't help but be enamored with you. You were pretty cute and funny and you seemed attentive to even the smallest details about him.

"You know... y-you would have been my t-type of girl..."

He trailed off and turned his face away from you to hide his furious blush, embarassed to admit it. You chuckled at his cute behavior.

"If I was still alive..." Your expression softened with a hint of melancholy. "Please don't love me. I don't want to induce more pain to others..."

"..."

That was how you two would hang out from time to time, when you appeared in his house. He couldn't talk about this with anyone else, not even Okuyasu. But he didn't mind, in fact, he kind of liked that you were his little secret.

"Heeyyy ghooost girl! I'm boreeed!" Josuke lazily called out, hoping that you would come out without having him making some Ouija rituals or anything.

"Hey! That's rude, I have a name!" You poked your head through one of the walls and floated over him, who was laying on his bed.

"Well you never told me it!" He deadpanned as you hovered over him, inching towards his face.

"Well you never asked!" you bickered back.

"Well what's your name, ghost girl?"

You backed away from him and put yourself in a sitting position on his bed as you looked at him. "My name is Y/N Zeppeli. And I already know your name, Josuke Higashikata."

He shot up in his bed and stared at you wide eyed "Wait! Y/N that's your name? It's so cute! It fits you way better than ghost girl!"

Even without a body of flesh and blood, you swore you felt your face blushing profusely right now.

"O-of course it does! Why did you even start calling me that!" You pouted and he laughed at you.

More days passed together and he shared all of his stories with you. He would talk about his day and you were quite fascinated by how passionate he was towards his friends. Especially that Okuyasu guy, he sounded like a lot of fun.

"Oh, Y/N I always wanted to ask you something." His tone and expression turned serious suddenly and you nodded at him, gesturing him to go on.

He scooted over to you, getting all close and personnal as he stared into your eyes, a little bit hesitant to ask.

"Do you... Remember how you died...?"

You flinched at his question and he gasped, sensing your distress and instantly regretting his words.

"Y-you don't have to answer if it's too painful! I can't even imagine what it'd be like to remember your own death..." He fretted, feeling like an idiot for even bringing that up.

You looked down, a sad smile gracing your lips.

"Josuke." You breathed and his heart skipped a beat at the way you pronounced his name, sending shivers down his spine.

"Y-yes?" He was blushing red. Why did he feel so affected suddenly.

"You are... A descendant of the Joestar bloodline, right?"

"Joestar...?" Now he was curious. "Yes, how did you know?"

"There are other Joestars in this very house, right?" He gulped as you splurted truths after truths and he started to get very uncomfortable.

"Y/N you're scaring the shit out of me..." As you didn't answer and didn't move a single inch he continued. "Y-yeah, there's more of my family here... Why?"

You suddenly floated away from your seated position in front of him, and did something very unexpected.

You came closer to him, way closer than you've ever been before, and glided your hands under the strap of his sleeveless shirt. The proximity and the contact flustering him to no end.

"W-w-what are you doing...?!" He stuttered shakily, his face and ears burning as your bodiless form came in contact with the skin of his back and shoulders.

It felt weird, you didn't have skin to touch him, but what he felt of you was a cold but comforting breeze, tickling and grazing his skin ever so slightly, raising every single hair on his arms and back of his neck with goosebumps.

It wasn't unpleasant, in fact, it was quite pleasurable. But the shock he was left in didn't let room for his mind to drift off towards any undesired thoughts. He glanced at you and your beautiful yet dulled features from the corner of his eyes.

He couldn't help but think that you must have been so incredibly pretty when you were alive. That you must have held the most delicious of warmths and ministrated the sweetest of caresses.

But you were gone. So young too. He felt blessed to have met you, but cursed that it would be in such circumstances.

You carefully moved his strap from his back to stare at the star that was deeply imprinted into his skin. You sighed in understanding as your doubts were confirmed.

You slowly backed away from his shoulder and stopped right in front of his face. "Josuke Joestar..."

His whole body tensed up again, he gulped loudly and his heart was beating anxiously fast at the name you just called him.

"The reason I'm latched onto this home is because the Joestars dwell here." You spoke honestly as you were slowly putting the pieces together.

"What?" He gasped at the sudden confession.

You were linked to his family line? But why? He was so confused and had so many questions. As if you had read his mind, you continued.

"The Zeppeli bloodline has been linked to the Joestars for centuries." You paused and looked down again, trying to find the right words.

Josuke was staring at you, speechless as he listened to your story. He had always found you so mysterious and intriguing, but now that he was starting to know the truth, he felt like it was something that should have been left unknown.

He felt like he was digging into something he shouldn't, that the outcome would leave one of you heartbroken.

But somewhat this was fate. Whatever would happen was bound to happen. You clenched your fists over your lap before continuing.

"Our sole purpose.... is to die for you." You breathed, not quite daring to look at him in the eye just yet.

His whole body shook and his mouth fell agape. He tried to form words, but he was so overwhelmed by all the informations, he couldn't believe what he was hearing from you.

How come he didn't know something like that? Did Jotaro know? Did Joseph know? He had so many questions, he didn't know where to start.

"Th-that means..." He started, his voice stuck in his throat. "That... You... You-"

"I died for my Joestar." You continued for him, a melancholic smile reaching your lips and eyes.

"W-who was it...?" He faintly managed to utter, barely over a whisper, not wanting the question to leave his mouth, and terrified of the answer.

Untangible tears prickled in your eyes and you finally looked up at him.

"I'm so happy that you are alive, Josuke." Your voice cracked into a sob as heavy tears spilled down your face.

Josuke felt his throat tighten painfully, he couldn't breathe. "No..." He denied, not wanting to accept what he was understanding. "No way... No...no...no..."

You nodded slowly, confirming his doubts and placed your cold hands upon his cheeks.

You admired the depth of his blue eyes in completely fondness. He was so beautiful, and he looked healthy. You were glad, so glad.

"You became such a wonderful person. If I had a second chance, I would not hesitate to give my life for you again."

"Y/N DON'T SAY THAT!!!" He snapped completely as he processed the revelation, his voice cracking. "THERE'S NO FUCKING WAY, YOU'RE JOKING!! TELL ME YOU'RE LYING TO ME!!!"

You leaned in and pressed your forehead against his and the boy couldn't contain his tears anymore as he sobbed heavily.

You had died for him. You sacrificed yourself so he could live, and he didn't even have the chance to know you, to cherish you.

He would have never known what you did for him if it wasn't for your sudden paranormal appearance in his house, and now he couldn't even return the favor.

With these thoughts in mind, he cried harder, like a lost little boy, but he didn't care anymore. You ran your thumbs over his tears in a desperate and vain attempt to wipe them.

"Don't cry Josuke." You reassured softly, "It makes me happy that you lived to be such a lovely and caring man."

"B-but... Y/N... I didn't even know you! I couldn't even save you! Now I can't even thank you!" He cried heavily, speaking his pain through his loud sobs.

You shook your head. "You being happy and in good health is enough for me. It means that my death had meaning."

"O-of course! I won't waste your sacrifice, trust me! I will live my life to the fullest and cherish every single day! I will make your death meaningful and worth it."

You leaned back just a slight bit to look into his soaking eyes. The gaze you wore was so full of love, his heart ached like needles pierced through it.

"You are priceless, Josuke. Thank you for being alive."

"Thank you for saving my life, Y/N." He finished awfully calm, dejected at his own helplessness.

You hugged him close to you and craddled him in an inexistant hold, but he still felt your warmth, somehow. He put his hands around your back, craving the feel of your body, something that he will never have.

After staying still, enjoying each other's presence one last time, you asked him permission with an airy voice that soothed him.

"Josuke, may I pass on...?"

"... You may."

And just like that, you faded away, towards the other side. Where you would finally meet with your ancestors, where all the Joestars and the Zeppelis were bound to meet again. Where he would hopefully join you one day.

Left alone in the silence of his room, he had finally accepted your fate and his.

Dressed in a black suit, Josuke walked the streets of Morioh, one hand holding a bouquet of flowers, and the other tucked in his pocket.

He couldn't care less of the fawns and whispers of the girls passing by him, complimenting how handsome he looked and how lucky the girl they assumed he was seeing must be.

He directed himself towards his dreaded destination. Contrary to what you see in fictions, the cemetary didn't hold a morose or scary ambiance at all.

It was comfortably silent. The air felt fresher here than in any other place in town. The only sound heard was his dress shoes hitting the gravel.

He walked slowly by the isles, eyes scanning the names and dates on the tombstones. Memorial of loved ones. Place of rest. It was relaxing.

After walking and searching for 10 more minutes, his eyes finally found the name he was looking for. It took all his self control to not run towards it.

'Here lies Y/N Zeppeli'

He sighed and sat down in front of the name. What-if scenarios kept on running through his mind. What if he had met you when you were alive? What if he had saved you?

"At the end of the day... You didn't even tell me how you died. How will I avenge you if I don't know who killed you?" He uttered as he gently laid the flowers on the grave.

A gust of icy cold wind suddenly washed over him, carressing his face. Strange, it was supposed to be a fairly warm day and the wind hasn't been blowing all day. He scoffed, which soon turned into a chuckle.

"Oh I see how it is. It's a sign, isn't it?" He paused and looked up at the clear yellow sky. "It's probably better if I don't know..." He whispered quietly to himself.

He felt like he needed a break from his bizarre adventure, and now was just the perfect moment.

He looked intently at your tombstone and how your name was neatly engraved in the mineral until he noticed a little crack on the upper side.

He gasped and scrambled to his knees to get a closer look at it. What the hell? Who dared damage your last home?

He glided his fingers along the lines of the crack and clicked his tongue. He then leaned in, and gently pressed his lips on it, using Crazy Diamond to fix it back.

He smiled at his handiwork, the stone looking brand new again. You deserved at least that.

"That's the least I could do for you."

Bonus:

One day as you were hanging out with Josuke, you looked around his room curiously. He then laid back lazily on his bed and looked up at you as you stopped to inspect one of his posters. His eyes suddenly widened, focusing on one particular thing.

"Hey! When you float over me like that I can see under your skirt!"

You gasped in disbelief. "What?! No way!"

You looked down at him and tensed up, flustered. He perked up in a sitting position to get a better view.

"OOOHOOH GHOST UNDIES!! NICE!!!" He roared in victory and you tried desperately to slap him, your hands flying right through him as he snickered.

"JOSUKE YOU BIG PERV!!! I'll give you sleep paralysis tonight!!" You threatened and he stopped, his expression shifting to panick.

"W-w-whoa hey you're not serious!! You can actually do that??"

Long as fuck. I didn't mean to make it heartbreaking, but shit happens.

Could crazy Diamond fix that fanfic?

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #diamond is unbreakable #josuke #josuke higashikata #writing #x reader #reader insert #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo part 4 #part 4 #josuke x reader #josuke higashikata x reader #ghost au #ghost reader

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kaleidescope-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Heart of Audrilluria- Chapter IV; Tipsy Intel

Modern Fairytale AU

Prince!Tom Hiddleston x Theif!Reader

A few sun rays peaked through the curtains made of expensive materials. The room was lit in a soft orange glow. There was a moment of peaceful silence in the room, only partly filled by the distant chirping of birds. Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, taking in the bronze designs that littered the cream ceiling of the fairytale room she found herself in. It was peaceful.

Peaceful until the high pitched ringing of the vintage telephone filled the air. She groans, turning to her left and reaching for the phone. “Hello,” her voice groggy. “Good Morning sunshine,” Edmundo greeted with a voice too cheerful for this early in the morning. “I hope you are well rested. For today, you have breakfast at the castle with the royals and nobility. After that, you have five hours of recreational time before you have to get ready for the Welcoming Ball. I’ll have both of your dresses in your room and a hair and makeup team ready for your return later this afternoon.”

Y/N sat up against the bed frame, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “Do we have a say in what we wear?” she asked, hoping there would be an option. “Sadly, all your ball-wear has been pre-picked in order for you to fit in at the events.” She sighed, “What time does the breakfast start?” “In an hour,” came the response, “You have thirty minutes to get ready, no more. I’ll see you then.” with that, he hung up. Y/N took in the room from this new angle, appreciating all its fascinating details. Unfortunately, she had to cut her admiration of the room short and get up to start yet another day in the modern fairytale island.

She jumped off the bed, going towards her suitcase to pick out an outfit for the day. Placing it on the bed, she opened it and began to look over her options. After a few minutes of deliberation, she settled on a black, fitted blazer with a sky blue blouse and navy leggings. Tying her hair up in a bun she left a loose strand on either side of her face. Something simple yet classy for the first breakfast meeting.

“Good Morning, sunshine!” Amelie greeted as she entered the room. Already dressed and ready, she looked to the vanity her sister was using to get ready. Leaning against the door-frame, she smirked at her sister in a teasing manner. “You too?” Y/N, questioned with a small groan. Amelie chuckled, “I know you’ve never been a morning person, but we can’t be late! So hurry it up!” With that, she stood up straight and left the room as suddenly as she entered.”Y/N sighs deeply, the dread of starting the day this early consuming her thoughts once more. No she’s not a morning person, but whatever was left of the jet lag she felt made it worse.

Y/N looked in the mirror one last time, before deciding she was satisfied with her look. Putting back the contents of her suitcase, she grabbed some essentials; her minaudiere, phone, wallet with the information of her alias, earphones, external charger and wire, and a digital voice recorder with discrete microphone. She put the items in her purse and headed to the main room. Amelie looked up from her seat as Y/N entered the room in a confident stride. “Let’s do this.”

~~~~~

Thomas looked over his appearance once more in the mirror. Satisfied with his look, he turned and made his way towards the door. Turning the doorknob and opening it slightly, he prepared to walk out into the hall, only to be stopped mid step by a familiar face preparing to knock on his door.

He took a moment to process the situation before speaking, “You’re not the person that normally bothers me this early.” Augustus lowers his hand down slowly, an expression of confusion gracing his features. “I suppose I’m not?” Thomas smiled at his old friend and chuckled internally at his confusion. “ Well I guess I should explain myself,” Augustus started, “ I’m here to say good morning. So good morning. And to ask you for advice.” Thomas changed his position, stepping out to the side and closing his door as he listened to Augustus talk. “It seems a bit early to have messed up enough to ask me of all people for advice,” Thomas teased, “And if we must do this, we have to walk towards the breakfast hall.”

Augustus began walking down the hall with Thomas by his side. “It’s not that I made a mistake recently. It’s advice to avoid future mistakes.” Thomas chuckled, shaking his head, “Once again, I wonder what compels you to ask the king-to-be for help.” Augustus turned to his cousin, rubbing his neck with his left hand while continuing to walk. “Your advice hasn’t led me wrong yet,” Augustus said, “And besides, it was you or the person this concerns.”

Thomas’s steps faltered slightly, realizing what type of advice Augustus was going to ask for. Dawning a teasing smirk, Thomas turned to his friend, “OH, so you are finally going to assert your feelings for a certain relative of mine?” Augustus stopped walking suddenly. He knew? Of course he knew, it was obvious. Especially for someone as intuitive as Thomas Hiddleston. Thomas stopped walking as well, turning to look at him expectantly with the same teasing expression on his face. Breaking the silence between them, Augustus cleared his throat. “So you know?” he asked shakily, slowly continuing his stride down the long hallway.

He knew the answer long before he asked. Still, a small, simple-minded part of him wanted to confirm the obvious. “Of course I do!” Thomas asserted, genuinely smiling, “I’ve known you for as long as I can walk. I’ve known for a while. I figured you liked him since secondary school.” Augustus smiled sheepishly as both men continued down the hall at a slower pace. “I suppose we can skip over the awkward confession and hope you won’t want to kill me for it, then,” He laughed cautiously, “I’ll get right to it. How would-- or rather, should-- I go about asking him if he feels the same?” Thomas’s face shifted to a grave expression, “You have to fight another potential partner to death in the dungeon deep beneath the castle in order to prove your worth for courtship.”

Augustus looked to his best friend worriedly for a moment before catching on to his joke. “Why do I bother with you sometimes?” He asked, letting out an oddly anxious breath. Thomas cracked a smile, putting his arm around Augustus's shoulder. “All jokes aside, I’ll help you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The breakfast gathering consisted mostly of nobles discussing diplomatic actions they’ve taken in recent times and how that has improved their country’s politics. Every once in a while, the attention of the crowd was diverted to the prince and other members of the royal council, but the nobles would go back to mingling with each other as soon as they’d said their peace. Y/N and Amelie juggled between answering the questions of the ever interested nobles--using the false and true information they were given respectively--and asking for information themselves. All the while, the recorder in the minaudiere stored every word spoken to use later when they put their intel together.

For the most part, every person in attendance would evenly distribute their attention, but there were some--namely Charles and Augustus--that would notice Thomas sneaking looks at a certain daughter of the Spanish Marquess.

The breakfast ended and the guests continued to mingle in the castle grounds. Y/N and Amelie seemingly attracted as much attention as the prince himself. Despite this, however, they had little conversation with his highness--mainly due to Y/N’s subtle refusal to do so. Having little direct contact with him decreased the chance of being found out, she reasoned.

Meanwhile, Augustus tried to work his way into a confession using Thomas’s advice. Approaching Charles with new found confidence, he inserted himself into the present conversation. “I believe I speak for all of us when I say that our job is never easy, but it is truly an honor to be in our positions,” Augustus commented, standing right next to Charles. Charles turned to look at him with playful confusion, “I wouldn’t expect that from the man who does little more than smile and pose for the press.” The group of nobles laughed while Augustus sheepishly rocked on his feet. “To be fair,” a Count interjected, “He has a pretty face.” The group laughed some more. “In fact I wouldn’t mind welcoming him into my family,” he continued, “If only I had a daughter amongst my three sons to present to you.” Augustus shifted his feet slightly. “These are progressive times. Does it matter whether or not a nobleman marries someone of the opposite gender?” He asked, looking at each noble hopefully while keeping Charles in his peripheral vision. Another noble scoffed, “It’s a policy as old as time. Noblemen should marry noblewomen. It’s tradition! We can’t throw it away simply because changes around us occur. Our stability would be thrown out the door.” The others nodded in agreement, some whispering a confirmation of their standing. Augustus turned to look at Charles, a small hint of hope still remaining in his eyes. “When you put it like that, I can’t argue with you,”Charles said simply.

Augustus felt his stomach drop to his knees. He nearly lost his footing as the ground beneath him felt like it shook. Keeping a soft, counterfeit smile, he fixed his foot-stance and looked down momentarily. All he wanted at that moment was for the earth to swallow him whole.

It was time for everyone to go their own way and prepare for the ball. Y/N had mixed emotions, but it was part of the job. The upside to this was that the ball was the perfect opportunity for the false-bond to be formed. Finding the ‘fall-guy’ would be the most crucial part of the night. They had their plan, now they had to put it into motion.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ballroom was absolutely marvelous. The ornate walls were lit brightly, making every golden glow, spreading an indescribable feeling to every inhabitant of the room. Once more, the sisters were reminded of a fairytale. Their feeling was stronger this time, considering their expensive gowns. Both gowns were elegantly decorated and made them look like true royalty--or so Edmundo said. They fit in perfectly with the crowd of expensive formal wear and jewelry fit for, well, royalty. Soft, classical music filled the ambiance, making everything seem like a pleasant dream. It was magical. But there was work to be done.

“We have to focus. Let’s get over the glitz and glamour and get to work. This is an important night,” Y/N commanded, pulling her sister to a small, isolated corner of the room. Amelie snapped out of her awe and became focused on the objective at hand. “Ok, we’ve talked to every noble at breakfast, but none of them seem like a good ‘fall-guy’, Any ideas on how we proceed?” Amelie asserted, “Any ideas on how we proceed?” Y/N looked around the room, scanning the face of every noble and connecting it to a name. “Every noble we’ve spoken to knows very little that can help us. The only thing we can do is get close to someone in the royal council, but that’s too risky. We have to find someone close enough to the crown for information but not close enough to be a risk,” Y/N recounted.

“Let’s split up,”Amelie suggested, “It’ll be easier to find someone matching that description that way.” Y/N turned to her sister, a confident smile gracing her features. “Report back with each other at the end of the night. No leading anyone on.” she declared. Turning on her heel, she was preparing to take a step away from Amelie before she heard “And don’t get attached.” Y/N smiled, walking away as she spoke in a confident tone, “I never do.”

Picking a spot in the room in which everyone was easily visible, Y/N began her search. Looking for someone that matched what she was looking for would be challenging, but in order to proceed with the plan, she had to find the perfect mark. Looking around the room full of mingling nobles, Y/N tried to find someone suitable to form the false bond with. Every duke, earl, duchess, baron, and viscount she saw had already been deemed inadequate for the job. This was going to be difficult. She was close to giving up her search in the main room and move on to the balcony area. Her search stopped when her eyes came to look upon a familiar face, one she’d recognize from their welcoming arrival. He was helplessly leaning against the bar area, already drowning himself with his choice of poison. Y/N’s face lit up, realizing this was her ticket to get close to the target. She began her stride towards the man, meticulously planning her approach as she made her way through the well-dressed crowd.

~~~~~

The party was in full swing. Everyone in the room seemed to be enjoying the moment. All except one. Augustus looked aimlessly around the room, subconsciously searching for the one person that could make everything feel better. He didn’t notice when Thomas walked up to him until his solemn silence was broken by his best friend’s voice; “What happened? I expected you to be happily dancing around the room by now?” Augustus sighed, still looking out to the harsh critiques that discouraged him, “I didn’t even try. It’s hard to confess when you’re surrounded by nobles who all agree that a policy as old as time shouldn't be broken, even for love.” Thomas put his hand on Augustus’s shoulder, a look of sympathy etched into his features. “I’m sorry Gus. I--” “Please, spare me your pity,” Augustus interrupted, “I don’t need that from you.” Thomas nodded, standing in front of him and placing both hands on his shoulders to provide a distraction from the people that wounded him. “Tell me what you need and I will gladly comply.” he proposed. Augustus removed both of Thomas’s hands from his shoulders, eyes fixing on the bar across the room. “I need a drink. Don’t worry about me, worry about the party. All these people are here for you.” With that, he made his way to the bar, ready to drown out his sorrows with a bottle.

As soon as he reached the bar, he asked for his favorite drink, hoping it would help him feel better even slightly. The bartender handed him the drink and his mind began to race.

Leaning against the bar, he drank his whiskey on the rocks. Reflecting on what happened earlier that day, he kept his head down and focused on nothing but his glass every time he put it down after taking a sip. Things could’ve gone better, but of course, they didn’t. How did he think it was going to go? It was destined to end in disaster, why was he hopeful? Traditions can’t be broken, especially not when defended by old, close minded men. It was hopeless. He sighed heavily, downing the rest of his drink. Before he was able to ask for another, he noticed someone approach him on his left side.

“Getting a head start?” a female voice asked. Augustus rolled his eyes, putting his glass aside. “Don’t. I’m not the type of person you think I am,” he said, already rejecting whatever intentions she had. Y/N shifted in her seat slightly, “I didn’t say you were. I’m not here to try and start something with you.” To this he sighed finally turning to face her; “Then why are you here?” “I know this might sound cliche, but I know the look of a broken heart. You don’t need a drink, you need someone who’ll listen,” she said, “That, and I’ve pretty much met everyone else here and none of them are interesting enough to be around for longer than a few minutes.”

Augustus chuckled, turning in his seat to face her and leaned his head in his hand. “You think you’re the friend I need?” Y/N scoffed playfully, “Look, it’s either me, someone too busy to deal with your problems, or a bunch of old-fashioned nobles that love to brag about how great of a job they’re doing.” Augustus laughed, preparing to argue with her before he realized she was right. “So, who was the asshole that broke your heart?” she asked, ordering a drink for herself as well as a refill of his. “It wasn’t an asshole, it was a situation,” he clarified, “I could never call him an asshole.” Y/N takes a sip, raising her eyebrow and nodding slightly, “So I was right. This is about a broken heart.”

Augustus sighed, looking down at his feet as he nodded. “Yes, I suffer from a broken heart. He wasn’t the only cause.The other noblemen started the conversation. He just gave the final blow.” Putting her glass down, Y/N looked attentively at the sorrowful man in front of her. She took his left hand in hers, softly keeping it near him in case he wanted to pull away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think those uninteresting individuals were capable of saying something that didn’t make them seem self-righteous.” Augustus huffed, not removing his hand from her hold, “Yes, well, you never really know until something brings it up.” For a moment, both of them sat in a comfortable silence. Thinking about what to do next, Y/N downed the rest of her drink and looked briefly out into the ballroom.

“I know how to help you forget about this for a while,” she said, finally breaking the silence. Augustus looked up at her expectantly, silently hoping it would help. Y/N stood up, bringing Augustus with her. “It’s a party. People are dancing and having the time of their lives. Let’s join them.” Augustus tried to sit back down shaking his head as he pulled his hand away slightly, “No, no. I’m a terrible dancer.” Y/N smiled, laughing lightly at him, “So am I! C’mon, it’ll be fun.” Augustus didn’t budge, she had to try harder to get him to agree. “Forget about your broken heart just for tonight. Let’s show your lost love what he’s missing out on. No judgement.” Augustus smiled up at her. Unable to refuse any longer, he gave in and let her drag him to the dance floor. This was going to be one hell of a night.

~~~~~

“Where’s your head, Thomas?” Charles asked, turning away from the foreign duke he was talking to earlier. Thomas had his eyes fixed on the owner of a sky blue dress with golden adornments littering the fabric. “Among the crowd,” he replied. He didn’t turn away from the woman dancing near his best friend. He couldn’t look away. She was beautiful and seeing her dance around made her care-free spirit light up the room. Y/N was all he could see.

Charles followed his line of sight, only to be met with the pair. He knew Thomas was looking at her, it was obvious. The way his feet were pointed in her direction. The way he leaned towards her slightly when it looked as if she was going to slip. Every part of him was there with her. It made Charles chuckle, finally earning the attention of Thomas. “What is it?” Thomas inquired confused as to why he found it humorous.

Charles looked directly into his eyes, smiling from ear to ear. “You, my friend, are absolutely smitten!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: FINALLY!!! To make up for lost time, I will post one chapter everyday starting with this one. Thank you guys so much for your patience! I’ll try to do a better job to get on top of things! Thanks Again, I love you all and I hope all is well in these trying times. What do you guys think about the dress? As always, feel free to give me feedback, like, I seriously want to know what you think!! Let me know if I missed anyone in the taglist and I’ll see you tomorrow with chapter 5!!

Taglist is OPEN

@ladyblablabla @tvdplusriverdale @pipolaki @myraiswack @shockwavee @harringtonb-blog @cynic-spirit @ochizokulevy @swifitiedaylight @little-moonbeam-666

#tom hiddelson #tom hiddelston imagine #thomas william hiddleston #loki (marvel)#loki x oc #marvel imagine #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #loki fanfic #tom hiddelston x reader #tom hiddleston #tom hiddles #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston x reader

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disneysholland · 4 years ago

Text

A Holly Jolly Hoax: Part 2 - t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Continuation of Part 1...

Part: 2/x

Word Count: 2k

A/N: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything but I just wanted to get this part up so there may be some typos. Hopefully part 3 will be up sooner than this one:)

A few hours and a few glasses of wine later, Tom and I had gotten to decorating the living room along with one of my aunts and a few of my cousins.

Luckily, there was complete radio silence from Tara and the rest of her family. Every time they would enter the room with me, they would leave almost immediately.

The rest of the family, on the other hand, were completely charmed by Tom. The ladies had all gathered around, hanging on his every word when he talked about his roles and living in England.

Overall, it was going great, much better than I could have imagined. They were falling for our ruse and they were also getting off my back for not living the life they had imagined I would.

While Tom was telling a story about meeting Robert Downey Jr. for the first time, I took the chance to slip off to the kitchen and grab a couple cookies.

My mom and grandma had spent the afternoon baking our family recipe of sugar cookies and my mouth had been watering ever since smelling them for the first time. In the kitchen, I found my grandma sitting at the table, frosting away.

“Hi Grandma, I’m coming to swipe some cookies,” I smiled, coming to stand next to her.

She gasped, “But I’m not done yet!”

“It’s okay. I just want two, one for me and one for Tom,” I placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Alright, honey. Go right ahead. Take one of these ones though, they don’t look as pretty.”

I giggled, picking up a cookie.

“Have you talked to Tara yet?” she asked, knowingly.

“Not yet...She keeps avoiding me. Not that I’m complaining...”

“You girls were so close when you were little. Seeing you play together has always been a favorite memory of mine,” she sounded a bit sad.

“Mine too, but things have changed. The situation’s changed,” I shrugged, my eyes trained on the floor.

“That boy of yours seems to make you really happy,” she smiled, sending me a wink.

A smile came to my face, “Yeah, he does. He’s kind of everything I ever wanted in a guy.”

All true. Not a hint of a lie.

“You remind me of me and your grandfather when we were your age. Young and wildly in love. Nothing could keep us from each other.”

She had a longing look in her eyes. My grandfather had passed away a few years ago, leaving a hole in all of our hearts, but especially my grandmother’s. Every time we mentioned him she’d get this sad look in her eyes and kind of disappear for a minute.

“I miss him too,” I reached out, taking her hand in mine.

“Don’t let him go. Tom. He’s yours, I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. Don’t let that boy go.”

I felt the tears rise in my eyes, knowing that he never really would be mine.

“I won’t,” I whispered.

In that moment I realized what I really felt for Tom. It wasn’t just friendship, it wasn’t just a crush...it was love. Real, true love looking me right in the eye and I hadn’t even seen it. How could I be so blind?

Could he feel the same? Is that why he was so quick to say yes to this crazy idea?

“I...should get back to the living room, Tom’ll kill me if I leave him alone for too long,” I let out a fake laugh and quickly turned away, “Thanks for the talk, Grandma.”

Back in the living room, Tom had taken to playing a game with the kids. The sight was enough to fill me with both longing and dread. Why does he have to be so damn perfect? That would make this whole realizing-my-feelings thing so much easier.

“Quick! It’s MJ! You must save her!” My cousin’s son, James, shouted as I walked in the room.

Tom was perched on the edge of the couch in his signature Spider-Man pose.

“I’m coming MJ! Stay right there!” he warned and suddenly jumped off the couch, pretending to swing from buildings.

“I got you MJ!” he said as he reached my side, scooping me up into his arms.

“Oh, Spider-Man. Thank you for saving me,” I said in my best Princess-That-Needs-Saving voice.

“You’re welcome darling, you’re still not safe though, Thanos is still coming!” He then re-positioned me, letting me wrap my legs around his waist.

He then ran across the room, imitating how he would swing through the air. I let out a giggle, hiding my face in his neck.

Then, he sat me down on the couch and turned back towards Maddie, my other cousin’s daughter, who wore a Thanos mask.

“Not this time Thanos!”

Tom pretended to shoot webs out at her and then she finally crumpled to the ground, feigning death.

“Yay! You did it! Spider-Man beat Thanos!”

“Now Spider-Man needs to kiss MJ!” Sarah, another girl said, making kissing motions.

“Ewww,” Maddie groaned.

“You know what, I think Spider-Man should give MJ a kiss,” Tom turned towards me with a wild grin.

Oh God, no. I buried my face in my hands hiding from him.

“Come on, love! It’s just one kiss,” I felt him come closer to me, trying to tug my arms away from my face. This can’t be happening...

"No! Not in front of everyone!”

I put up a good fight but he finally won out and my arms were at my sides. It all happened so fast that I could barely process when his hands came to either side of my face and he placed his lips on mine for the first time.

My arms came up to rest around his neck, almost on instinct, as we eased into the kiss. It was euphoric, the feeling of his lips on mine, even if it only lasted for a few seconds. Though I’d never admit it out loud, this is what I had been dreaming of for a long time.

As soon as we broke away, my eyes met his and I felt something shift between us. All I could do was hope that it wasn’t for the worse. My eyes drifted across his face, trying to read what he was thinking but for once, I couldn’t tell. Did he hate it and absolutely want to run away or the opposite? Did he realize what I had just realized moments before?

"Aww, well aren’t you guys adorable,” my aunt Michelle said as she walked into the living room.

Tom quickly jumped back, moving a few feet away from me and my attention shifted to Michelle.

“Grandma! Tom is Spider-Man so y/n is MJ! He rescued her from Thanos!” Sarah yelled when she noticed her presence.

“Wow! That’s awesome!”

Suddenly, all the kids had engulfed Michelle and were showing her their cool costumes and toys. At that moment, Tom sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

He then leaned back in, his lips coming dangerously close to my ear.

“It’s just acting, darling,” he whispered, sending chills up my spine.

Yeah, right. Acting. All I could do was nod when I glanced towards him.

“Alright, alright kids. Enough playing around,” Michelle said, laughing and turned back towards us, “I was coming to let you guys know that the food’s here, so lets eat!”

---

“I think that was the most aggravating dinner I’ve ever had in my life,” I sighed, leaning against the back of the bedroom door as I closed it.

“Well, you survived it, so that was a plus,” Tom said as he sat down on the bed.

The entire dinner was spent avoiding the judging gaze of my aunt Barb, Tara, and Carly; and of course dodging the incessant questioning of Tom and I’s relationship. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about, especially with Tom playing it exceptionally well that he was in love with me.

Of course I didn’t have to fake it when I told them of how I first knew I was in love with him or how he made me happier than anyone ever has... Somehow this wonderful plan I had was majorly backfiring on me in the worst way possible.

“I desperately need a shower, don’t watch anything good without me,” I pointed a finger at Tom who had already picked up the TV remote and was flicking the channels around.

He held up his hands in defense and let out a laugh.

I rolled my eyes and made my way into the bathroom, ready to relieve my stress with a warm, comforting shower.

Fifteen minutes later, I exited the warmth of the bathroom into the cold bedroom. In the time I was gone, Tom had taken it upon his self to make a bed in the floor.

“Tom, I can’t let you sleep on the floor. I invited you, you take the bed.”

He leaned back from his spot on the floor to look at me.

“No, no, no. You should be comfy, I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor.”

I sighed, taking a minute to think before the following words came out of my mouth.

“Well, then you’re sleeping in the bed with me,” I turned away and started pulling the sheets back.

“Are you sure?” he said softly, still laying on the ground.

I nodded, “I mean, yeah. We’ve slept on couches together before. I trust you.”

“Fine, I guess I can’t fight that,” he said as I was climbing in the bed, “But for the record, the floor was surprisingly comfortable.”

I giggled and rolled my eyes.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

A smirk grew across his lips as he picked up the blankets of the ground and joined me in the bed. His shoulder was nearly touching mine, but before I could let myself freak out about it, he turned away, reaching out for the lamp on his bedside table.

“Goodnight, love.”

“Night,” I squeaked out and immediately turned the other way.

It’s definitely going to be an interesting night. How am I supposed to sleep with him right there? It feels awkward and weird even though we’re usually way closer than this.

After a little while of my mind racing, I worked up the courage to flip back over.

“Tom?” I whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I can’t sleep,” I mumbled.

He sighed and turned over to face me. “Is it about dinner?”

I shrugged, “I guess a little bit. It’s just being in a house with all of these people, it’s wearing me out already. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, waiting for the other foot to drop. It’s kind of exhausting.”

“Darling, come here,” he said, holding his arms open for me to slide in. I did as he asked and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face

“I’ve told you this before and I’ll tell you it again. You are not the opinion of anyone who doesn’t matter. Don’t beat yourself up so much over trying to make them happy. You’re you and you’re amazing the way you are. You’re smart, you’re funny....beautiful and you light up every room you walk in. If they’re too blind to see it then that’s their problem.”

I nodded from the comfort of his chest, not wanting him to see the blush that was growing on my cheeks. I had spent my whole life thinking that no one cared about me or even liked me and here Tom is, telling me the sweetest words.

“Hey, look at me. Okay?” he said, pulling back slightly.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “Thank you for always knowing the right thing to say.”

He gave me a soft smile back and I tucked myself back into his embrace. For a while we just stayed like that, him rubbing my back and my eyes beginning to flutter closed. It felt nice and all of the awkwardness from earlier had dissipated.

“Tomorrow will be better okay?” he mumbled, continuing the rub comforting circles on my back.

All I could do at that point was nod before I fell off into dreamland.

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction

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sassy-headcanons · 5 years ago

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Hartwin Headcanons

Who hogs the duvet

I want to say that Eggsy is the one that steals blankets, but really I know it’s Harry. He would absolutely roll over in the middle of the night with a death grip on the comforter and leave poor Eggsy to shiver.

Who texts/rings to check how their day is going

I feel like it would be Harry because he wants to 1. Keep up on his “dear boy” and 2. Because he’s a little worried about Eggsy and dating a man half his age.

Who’s the most creative when it comes to gifts

Probably both. Harry would buy his gifts, he puts a lot of time and effort into finding the perfect gift for somebody. Sometimes they’re very expensive and Eggsy has a hard time accepting them, and others it’s just something small that made Harry go “Wow, that reminds me of Eggsy” and buys it. Eggsy 100% handmakes gifts. He puts his heart and soul into whatever he makes for the people he loves.

Who gets up first in the morning

I am so on board with the headcanon that Harry is not a morning person and is nearly chronically late to anything and everything. Eggsy I feel like is a morning person to the max. Early morning jog with JB (he’s not dead fight me), shower, shave, attempt to coax Harry out of bed, eat, dress, attempt to coax Harry out of bed for the second time, and head to work. Ain't no way he’s gonna be late for work and face Merlin’s wrath just because Harry Hart won’t get out of bed.

Who suggests new things in bed

Eggsy for sure. Harry is experienced when it comes to sex and every time Eggsy suggests something he’s like “Yeah, I’ll try that again” or “Nope, hard pass, tried that and hated it. Next.”

Who cries at movies

Both. Harry doesn’t care about Eggsy seeing him cry and Eggsy has such a large heart he can’t keep it in.

What are they like when they’re sick

Harry: Merlin calls him a “Whiny little bitch” when he’s sick and that about sums it up.

Eggsy: He’s a power through it kinda guy. He will not admit he is sick until it starts to interfere with his Kingsman duties. Eggsy may be stubborn but he does know when to quit.

Who gets jealous easiest

Harry Hart. He has so many self-esteem issues when it comes to dating Eggsy because of their age difference. He worries about Eggsy running off with someone younger than himself. Not that Eggsy would he loves Harry too much to ever think of being with anyone else.

Who collects something unusual

So it’s canon that Harry loves butterflies and has some pinned behind glass in his home… I personally don’t think that weird, it’s hella cool to me. I honestly don’t know.

Who takes the longest to get ready

Harry is very precise about how he looks and must be presentable at all times. He blames his tardiness on this, but the fact is that he doesn’t get out of bed until ten minutes after he was supposed to arrive.

Who is the tidiest and organized

I think it’s a draw. They’re both equally tidy.

Who gets most excited about the holidays

Eggsy, but only because of his little sister, he constantly wants to make up for the shitty years with Dean.

Who is the big spoon/little spoon

Little spoon Harry for the win!

Who gets the most competitive when playing games and/or sports

Oh my god, that is so Eggsy! Can you imagine them playing Super Smash Bros? Eggsy would be so pissed if he lost to Harry

Who starts the most arguments

I feel like they argue and both start an equal amount of them but they don’t seem like the kind of couple to stay mad at each other or break up over a stupid fight.

Who suggests that they buy a pet

I mean… they already have small dogs, but I feel like Eggsy would beg Harry to adopt a giant, small horse more like it, dog.

What couple traditions they have

Every night before they go to sleep, Eggsy kisses the scars around Harry’s eye.

What tv shows they watch together

I don’t know any UK tv shows :/ … Doctor Who?

Another couple they hang out with

They for sure make Merlin third wheel a lot. Maybe they hang out with whoever Roxy is dating or other agents and their significant others.

How they spend time together as a couple

Missions, fucking like rabbits, dinner dates at fancy restaurants, awkward lunches with Eggsy’s mother and little sister, and even more awkward holiday dinners with Harry’s family.

Who made the first move

Eggsy because Harry refused, having convinced himself he was too old and boring for Eggsy to love.

Who brings flowers home

Harry because he is a gentleman.

“Chivalry is not dead, thank you very much”

- Harry Hart muttering to himself as Eggsy laughs at him in the living room.

Who is the best cook

Harry Hart is an amazing chef and Eggsy is secretly very jealous.

Who snores

Both, but at differing levels. Eggsy is a chainsaw posing as a superspy and Harry is a gentle wheezing sound.

#kingsman headcanon #harry hart x eggsy #eggsy x harry #hartwin #hartwin headcanon

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budugaapologist · 5 years ago

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when you are reading this rant take full offense its 2am here and im mad as hell

fair warning this post is long as fuck and has several arguments pertaining to specific peeves i need to rant about before i go crazy. if you're not interested just keep scrolling it's not hard it's literally the core of social media navigation

you know what? ima say it.

black flag is the best ac game and deserves more recognition than just pirate drinking jokes because:

nearly every named character (sorry burgess and cockram) has development and personalities. cant say that for that many others in other games.

not too much fucking shit to do in it (unlike uhhhhhhhh every fucking other game in the franchise. stop it. i dont need 500 treasure chests in arno's game he already has an excellent revenue with the cafe. i dont need a ton of side quests. i dont need 30+ chests per london burough. i dont need a million question marks on my map. i dont need all of egypt or greece to be littered with shit to do. fuck this.).

unlocking shit is so much easier. edward knows where every treasure chest is and doesnt pay for treasure maps. and literally unlocking shit is so much easier.

base is slept on. its fucking cool. its fucking fun. its fucking useful as shit. its fucking pretty as all hell. fuck you.

good story, fun story, great dlc, relatable story (unless youre some bootlicking cowardly rich cunt) emotional story but not depressing (unity im looking at your ending. origins stop killing children.), satisfying end.

i can do the combat with one hand. you know what that means? i can eat and drink without pausing. i can reply to text messages without pausing. i can pet my dogs and cats while playing.

main character actually has changed by the end of the game a vast amount. motherfucker, edward changed more in his antó mission than ezio did in his trilogy.

if you dont complete all objectives you still have a passing score on the mission. do you know what its like to be raised to only get good grades on stuff and see yourself getting a 60% on a thing thats supposed to be a pass time just because you forgot something.

the naval combat isnt hard you just need practice. also i know the hunter ship sucks in the first mission you encounter but literally drop your sails but hold the wheel. once its in view let go. swim to it. take out the crew. swim back. bada bing bada boom go oneshot the crew. incredible, you're safe now.

legendary ship battles are really fucking cool and my mom doesnt yell at me for killing a giant beast for next to nothing.

the sea shanties and tavern songs slap.

farm animal petting simulator. not forced to kill dogs (ac3, odyssey).

obviously its good if the other games are just gonna copy paste it.

ed's tattoos are sick.

edward is literally the first canon bisexual. he literally says so in game. he literally fucking flirts with blackbeard. he literally was a pirate. why the fuck do you think birate is such an accurate pun.

diving outfit.

thicc.

the female characters dont have titties all over the place. even anne's boobs arent that big, which is good considering she is underage. the same cannot be said for many of the women in ezio's games.

guess who has a solid, interesting, and realistic personality. not kassandra or alexios thats for sure.

he is NOT moved by man pain (ezio, connor, bayek) to carry out his missions. he didn't want to be poor, he wanted to be able to provide for his family. he is just carrying out his dream to sail a ship. when he starts being "good", he is doing it out of guilt and shame on his past self (what, self reflection? someone, teach jacob this term), not because "wahh my girlfriend/mom/child/family died :'(", he wanted to make it up to his lost friends by making them proud and doing what they wished he had done. his regrets are in not being a better friend while mary was alive, not seeking out her killers (guards at fort). thatch's death crushed him, but he didn't thrust his anger on seeking revenge. and the characters that did die? they had personalities and development and were interesting and memorable. i cant tell you shit about cristina.

he is very respecting of women, especially for a white guy from the 1600s. he, as a teenager (under 17 i believe), attempted to save a woman he did not know and had no intentions of wooing (hey um ezio? you literally only were able to save cristina from being raped because you stalked her because you thought she was attractive. like thanks for saving her but uhh am i the only one that finds that creepy?) even though the odds of winning against three older men were stacked against him and he knew they could (and almost did) beat him to death. fuck if caroline wasnt there he would've been killed.

the modern day stuff is an excellent way to separate intense scenes and the little mini hacking games are fun puzzles. oh boohoo desmond isn't there? yes he was, half the things you hack literally give you desmond content.

rebecca's outfit fucking slaps.

from experience, its fun to play even if you dont know shit about the other ac games. pirates are cool and the story is easy to follow, just be prepared to find some of the other endings big letdowns or lots of the other games' missions boring.

is that fanservice that goes both ways but doesnt oversexualize any gender? why yes, it is!

stop reducing black flag to alcoholism jokes like yall constantly fucking do, it has so many other talking points and if you wanna make fun of something maybe choose something that isnt addiction. literally i make fun of edward constantly without pointing out his alcoholism it isnt that hard. if you're gonna make fun of edward for drinking rum when water in the 1700s often wasnt safe and making fun of him when he was depressed (he has multiple other intended self harming behaviors shown in game so no, he wasnt just drinking because its fun), why don't i see the same "wHy is aLL tHe WiNE gONe?" posts for arno? he was an alcoholic too. in fact arno and edward have a lot of the same forms of depression but oh, arno's a more serious character personality wise and isn't a pirate so his grieving isn't as funny.

and like, there are plenty of other things to make fun of with edward that might not make light of alcoholism because no, edward's drinking in the main story was not written to be a joke. here, a list of things i regularly make fun of him for:

this highwaisted man's got feminine hips

there is no reason for him to be that thicc

his bangs are a mess

his hair???? glows???? okay rapunzel.

his tatts that are just lines

actually you know what his tatts in general what do they mean ubisoft what even language are the words on his body in

how this whore opens the bottled messages on the beach. "ah yes, let me put this mysterious item in my mouth. i have no idea where its been. i could very well open it to read a note that says "i pissed on this""

"woman i just met... must respect her.. man i just met... im either going to give you a death threat, tease you, or flirt... sometimes multiple choices will be done......"

i mean he had the full right to be a bastard to walpole on the beach since he did try to be friendly but walpole was being to bitchy and needy. and like them being stranded wasnt edward's fault but walpole was still gonna make him build a ship and there is no reason for edward to trust walpole since after they get to havana he can easily just be like "thats a pirate, hang him." but like. the way he just immediately decides to steal his identity. legend.

why does he just blindly follow older men's orders like that

he trims his beard to a very odd location. i know it isn't a flattering pose but like. look at the underside of his jaw.

"how many references to dog behavior can we put in one character"

phobia of sleeping in a bed

"you saved my life i am eternally grateful."

edward are you seriously arguing with your eight year old daughter about the difference between a boat and a ship

where are your tanlines

how did he not die of skin cancer first

edward probably doesnt have any body hair because ubisoft didnt want his legs to glow in the dark too

look at his marooned outfit. bitch what the fuck is on your shirt. and where are your hair ties.

his dramatic beauty guru smokey eyes

he held that sword by the blade in the single madman quest. wh

anyway, the long run of this is, if you're gonna reblog an edward post from me specifically to make fun of an overused joke, go fuck yourself.

#edward #ac4 #i talk #assassins creed #im tired #and im tired of it!#im not saying to make fun of arno's alcoholism btw #just... just because edward tends to behave a little happier doesnt mean he is #both these men are depressed but like fuck mental disorders i guess

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