#who he can trust they won't use him or betray him

[narxcisse]

★ — General yandere Jason Todd headcanons

Pairing: Yandere!Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Warning: Obsession and yandere behaviors, toxic jealousy, surveillance and control, manipulation, social isolation(?), mental health and trauma, toxic relationships

Minors DNI / English isn't my native language

Jason has a natural protective instinct that, in its yandere version, turns into an extreme need to control everything that could harm you. With his past full of trauma (death, resurrection, physical and emotional abuse), Jason is obsessed with preventing you from going through anything similar. If he perceives even the slightest threat, he will act with relentless brutality. Whether it's a stalker or a simple "friend" who is too close, Jason will not hesitate to intervene.

He doesn't follow a black-and-white moral code, but instead inhabits a grey area that reflects his own values. This means that he would justify anything to keep you "safe." In his mind, killing for you is not only permissible, but a moral obligation. He sees his extreme actions as an extension of his love and the only way to protect you in a world filled with chaos.

Jason channels his anger at the world that betrayed him, but you are his exception. Though he can be explosive and violent with others, around you his tone softens, even when he's frustrated. You're his only emotional refuge and the only thing that keeps his anger in check. If you ever challenge him directly or try to walk away, though, that gentleness can turn into a dangerous mix of pleading and veiled threat.

His obsession with protecting you leads him to constantly monitor you, even when you're not together. He has no problem installing discreet cameras or trackers. While he might seem to respect your space, he actually knows more about your movements than he would ever admit. If you discover this behavior, Jason won't deny it, but he will try to justify it with a "I don't trust them, not you."

Jason is no stranger to manipulation, especially when it comes to keeping you by his side. He knows how to use his emotional wounds to appeal to your empathy – he brings up his death or how Bruce left him behind to make you feel guilty if you ever try to distance yourself. Although his love is genuine, he doesn't hesitate to use psychological tactics to make sure you don't abandon him.

Even though he tries to remain calm, Jason is quickly consumed by jealousy. If someone else tries to get too close to you, Jason may start with snide remarks or indirect criticisms about that person, but if that doesn't work, he'll take more drastic measures. He may "accidentally" scare that person or directly confront them in secret, making it clear that they shouldn't be in your life.

He's someone who shows his affection in tangible ways: gifts, acts of service, or even physically confronting your problems. However, his approach can be overwhelming. He doesn't easily accept that you don't need his constant intervention, and any rejection of his help is taken as a sign that you don't trust him. This only fuels his obsession with proving to you that he's the only one who truly cares about you.

Despite his brutality and control, Jason has moments of incredible vulnerability. He feels at peace with you, and those moments of honesty (when he admits his fears or shares his most painful memories) show that he is not just an obsessive yandere, but a deeply wounded man who fears being abandoned again. In these moments, he can be disarmingly sweet, even begging you not to leave him.

Jason doesn't want you to distance yourself from him emotionally or physically. Under the guise of protecting you, he might push you away from friends, family, or anyone he perceives as a distraction or threat to your relationship. At first it's subtle, suggesting that certain people aren't trustworthy, but over time, he can be more direct in enforcing boundaries on who you can interact with.

Jason constantly struggles with the duality of wanting to love you fully but feeling unworthy of being loved. This fuels his need to keep you close – he fears that if you notice his flaws or sins, you will leave him. This insecurity makes him act more possessive, thinking that as long as he is in control, he won’t have to face the pain of rejection.

Jason sees you as a source of redemption. He believes that caring for and protecting you is his way of making up for all the bad things he's done. This idealism can be dangerous, as it puts you on an impossible pedestal. If you ever make a mistake or contradict that perfect image he has of you, he could feel betrayed, which could trigger even more erratic behavior.

For Jason, his love for you is eternal and absolute. No matter how many barriers stand in the way or how difficult the situation, he will never stop fighting for you, even if it means taking on his allies, Bruce, or the world itself. In his mind, you are the only person worth risking it all for.

[leftoverghosts]

i am drowning

there is no sign of land.

Patrick's announcement hit you like a tennis ball to the gut. He had just gotten back from winning the junior US Open, but instead of celebrating together, he was ending things between you. The sharp sting of disappointment cut through your heart as you struggled to make sense of it all. This wasn't the end of your relationship, though.

patrick zweig x reader. patrick x tashi. mentioned tashi x art.

warnings: angst. like angst for the sake of angst. sex at the end. some curse words. not for minors. p in v sex. use of she/her for reader. no use of y/n. patrick sleeps with reader for a bed.

nori says: hiiiiiii, i've been lurking in the challengers tag and now have something to contribute. this is heavily inspired by the break up scene in whiplash. it just feels so patrick coded. also, i love tashi, it's not her fault that the boys were weird about her. send me ideas if you want to! xoxo.

word count: 4,818

2006, September. Per Se Restaurant, Manhattan.

“Also, Patrick has a girlfriend.” Art had told Tashi, and Patrick had responded with “I do not”.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“I can’t believe your dad let us use his reservations. This is the coolest thing ever! I feel so grown up,” a cheerful voice interrupts Patrick’s thoughts, pulling him back to the present moment. Sitting across from you now, celebrating his triumphant win at the Junior US Open, he can't ignore the guilt and doubts that gnaw at him. Though you were never officially a couple, there were undeniable feelings between you two and Patrick had pursued you relentlessly. He couldn't resist your sweetness, especially since you’ve been friends for so long and despite being just a teenage boy with wandering eyes fixed on tennis skirts, even he understands that you genuinely care about him.

Patrick thinks with all the agony that the thing between his legs can muster, that he’s an asshole, that he shouldn’t of fucked up this situationship only to chase after a girl who made him compete for her attention. Part of him hates himself for betraying your trust and pining after someone else, but the other part of him is drawn to Tashi in a way he can't explain. She gets him, but more importantly, she understands true tennis.

Patrick fidgets with his cup of water, tracing your name on the condensation as if it holds some sort of salvation. But deep down, he knows that no amount of apologies or excuses can change what he has done.

"Listen, I have to be honest with you," Patrick finally speaks up, his voice strained with emotion.

You pause, feeling a sense of unease settle in your stomach as you wait for him to continue.

"I can't keep pretending that this is going to work out. My dreams of becoming a professional tennis player are consuming more and more of my time and focus. And when I am with you, all I can think about is training and winning matches."

As his confession sinks in, your world tilts on its axis. The realization hits you with startling clarity - his passion for tennis surpasses everything else in his life, casting a shadow over what bloomed between you. You always knew that tennis was important to Patrick, but you never fully understood just how significant it was until now. Your mind flashes back to all the times you thought tennis was just a hobby for him, a way to cope with his parents' high expectations. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you realize that this is not how you imagined your relationship with Patrick ending. You try to hold back your emotions, but they overflow despite your best efforts.

"You'll probably start feeling like I'm ignoring you and get mad that tennis is more important to me than our relationship," he continues, regret evident in his eyes. "And if you ask me to ease up on my training, I won't be able to comply because this is my passion. It's what I was born to do."

"Where is this coming from, Pat?" you ask, your voice trembling with hurt. You had never wanted to come between Patrick and his dreams, but now it seems like there was no other option.

“It’s been building up for a while.” In the midst of shattered expectations and unspoken regrets, Patrick's gaze meets yours fleetingly before retreating, unable to withstand the weight of your hurt and disappointment. The truth hangs heavy in the air - priorities laid bare, futures diverging like roads leading into different horizons. "Because sooner or later, we will start resenting each other for not understanding our priorities. It's better to end things now before they turn toxic."

"I can't believe this, I thought we were in this together." Your palms are clammy and your heart races as you try to process everything. You had been nothing but supportive of him, rearranging your schedule whenever he came home from the academy just to spend time with him. But now he’s telling you that it wasn't enough.

"We were, but I wanna be one of the greats.” He sighs.

“And would I stand in your way?”

“Yeah.”

“You know I would, you're sure about that?” You ask, wishing this would just stop. “Yes.” He reaches out to take your hand, but you pull away, unable to bear his touch after what he's done. "I'm sorry," he mutters, his face contorted with guilt and sadness, and the knowledge that he’s a liar. That this conversation is only happening because he’s chasing greatness and Tashi Duncan.

"I'm just a naive girl to you, aren't I? Someone who will never measure up to your grand ambitions.” As the words tumbled out of your mouth, your voice quivers with hurt and disbelief. You couldn't comprehend how someone that you love could make you feel so worthless. “You'll leave me behind as you chase after greatness," you cried out, feeling utterly small and insignificant in his eyes. “You don’t understand me. You never have." His accusation is like sharp, dagger-like punctuation mark, ready to cut off any lingering hopes and pierce through the heart of your relationship.

You look at him, feeling a mix of anger and heartache. "Why did you even bother pursuing me then? If your tennis career was always going to come first?"

"I'm sorry," he finally says, his voice heavy with remorse. "I never should have said those things."

His apology hangs in the air, hollow and insufficient. The bustling restaurant fades into the background as you try to comprehend the sudden change in your reality.

"Sorry doesn't fix this, Patrick," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Patrick runs a hand through his curly hair, frustration etched across his face. "I know, I know. I'm messing everything up. It's just... there's so much pressure. The tennis, my parents, the academy. And now..."

He trails off, leaving the sentence unfinished. You lean forward, searching his face.

"And now what, Pat? What aren't you telling me?"

Patrick's blue eyes meet yours for a moment before darting away. "There's someone else," he admits quietly.

Your heart shatters into a million pieces, each shard piercing your chest with unbearable pain. The revelation hits you like a serve you never saw coming, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You struggle to find words, your mind reeling from the betrayal.

"Someone else?" you finally manage to choke out, your voice barely audible over the clinking of glasses and murmur of conversation around you. "Who?"

Patrick shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your gaze. "Her name is Tashi. We met at a party after the tournament. She's... she understands tennis in a way that—"

The name strikes a chord of recognition. Tashi Duncan. You've heard whispers about her – the rising star in the tennis world, known for her fierce determination and unmatched skill on the court. Suddenly, everything clicks into place. The late-night phone calls, the distracted looks, the growing distance between you and Patrick

"That I never could," you finish for him, bitter understanding washing over you. Of course. Of course it would be someone from his world, someone who could match his ambition step for step.

"I think she could make me really happy," Patrick says, his voice pleading for you to just get it.

“You know, I really do hope that you make it. I hope you get to be number one or whatever,” You let out a wet scoff, he could have at least let you finish your meal. “But I’m glad that I’ll never understand you, Patrick.”

With those words, the conversation comes to a halt as you both sit in stunned silence. The waitress brings over your food, but neither of you have an appetite anymore. Patrick pushes his plate away, his stomach churning with guilt and regret. He realizes now that breaking things off like this is a mistake, he’s a coward, he shouldn’t have met up with you in person.

2019, August. Parking lot of a Roadside motel, New Rochelle.

Patrick slams his fist against the side of his beat-up Volkswagen Tiguan in frustration, feeling the sting of anger and disappointment course through him. His phone remains pressed to his ear, waiting for you to pick up, but it rings on with no answer. He begins and deletes a desperate text to you, twice, before finally you're calling back and he answers on the first ring. “Hey! Got a weird favor to ask you. Your new place is near Westchester, right?” His voice trembles with nervousness as he taps his fingers anxiously against the car door.

“A whole year, that’s a new record for you. Run out of money already?”

“Shit,” he swears under his breath, trying to use some charm or magic to convince you. “You know how the tour goes. I’ve been struggling to stay afloat. But uh, how’ve you been?” He forces a smile through the grimace as he thinks about his current financial state - a checking account with only $70 left. It’s a far cry from the greatness he once promised he was leaving you to pursue.

“Go to hell, Patrick.” The line goes dead and he pulls the phone away from his face, staring at it in disbelief as if willing you to call back. He knows you, so he waits anxiously until a notification with your name appears again on the screen, accompanied by a new address.

Same day. Private residence, Bronxville.

Everyone knows that Patrick's parents have stopped providing financial support for him, and even though your own father would be furious if he knew you were aiding this deadbeat, you can't bring yourself to let him go without. It's only the occasional bit of cash for gas or food, but Patrick always finds a way to repay you in ways that you didn’t even know you needed. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of you that hangs heavily in the air.

Despite everything, you can't turn him away completely, even knowing he will never truly change. Tennis is his first, great love and with the Donaldsons in town, you can't help but think Tashi might still be his second. And you, you are nothing more than a temporary lifeline – a benefactor to someone who will never truly appreciate your sacrifices.

His heart races with guilt and desperation as he parks his car and approaches your door. He knows he doesn't deserve your help, but the familiarity of these meetings brings a sense of safety.

You watch from your living room window as Patrick's battered Volkswagen pulls into your driveway. The sight of him emerging from the car, all scruffy charm and desperate energy, sends a familiar pang through your chest. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the encounter to come.

As Patrick approaches, you open the door before he can knock. He stands there, looking simultaneously sheepish and hopeful, his eyes searching your face.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft. "Thanks for... you know."

You scoff at his attempt at gratitude, your bitterness cutting through the air like a knife. "Is that supposed to be a thank you? I didn't know you knew how to use manners," you retort, your tone dripping with resentment. It's not like you to be so angry, but Patrick always has a way of bringing out the worst in you.

You step aside, allowing him to enter and close the door after him. Patrick's eyes dart around your new place, taking in the tasteful decor and the obvious signs of your success.

"Nice place," he comments, his voice tinged with a hint of envy.

You shrug, maintaining your emotional distance. "It serves its purpose."

Patrick nods, fidgeting with the hem of his worn t-shirt. The silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words and shared history.

At thirty-two years old, in the final stages of your cardiology fellowship, your father still treats you like a child who is expected to become an astronaut neurosurgeon, or some other fantastical career straight out of a Barbie movie. Meanwhile, your mother constantly laments about not having any grandchildren to spoil, as if that is the sole purpose of your existence. You often snap back with sarcastic remarks, such as suggesting that your cat could use a new diamond-encrusted bowl, a sharp retort that only serves to deepen the tension between you. The truth is, you yearn for an escape just like Patrick did. If you had any talent for tennis, you would have run away long ago.

Patrick clears his throat, breaking the heavy silence. "I, uh... I really appreciate you helping me out. I know I don't deserve it, after everything."

You let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms over your chest. "You're right. You don't deserve it. But here we are."

He takes a step closer, his gaze intense and pleading. "I never meant to hurt you. Everything just got so complicated, with tennis and Art and Tashi and—"

"Don't." You hold up a hand, cutting him off. "I don't want to hear about her. Or about tennis. I’m not sixteen drooling over you anymore. I don’t need to pretend that I care. That's your world, Patrick. It always has been."

He looks down, shame and regret etched across his handsome features. "I know. I fucked up. I fuck everything up."

Despite your anger and resentment, a part of you softens at his vulnerability. You've known Patrick for so long, seen him at his best and his worst. And even after all the heartbreak, there's still a connection between you that refuses to die.

"Why do you keep coming back here, Pat?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why me?"

Patrick lifts his gaze to meet yours, and for a moment, you're transported back to that fateful dinner at Per Se, when your world first began to crumble.

"Because you're the only one who really knows me," he admits, his voice raw with emotion. "The only one who sees past the bullshit and the bravado. Even when I don't deserve it."

Your heart clenches at his words, the irony in them isn’t lost on you.

“I still hate you.” You say as you step forward and wrap your arms around him, feeling the solid warmth of his body against yours. Patrick stiffens for a moment before melting into the embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "For everything."

You close your eyes, allowing yourself this moment of vulnerability, of connection. Tomorrow, you'll go back to your separate lives - you to your fellowship and the weight of your parents' expectations, Patrick to his endless pursuit of tennis glory and the shadow of Art Donaldson. But tonight, in the quiet of your home, you can pretend that things are different, that the choices you've made haven't led you down such divergent paths.

As the embrace lingers, the air between you shifts, charged with a familiar tension. Patrick pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, asking a silent question. Your breath catches in your throat as his gaze drops to your lips, and you know what comes next.

It's a dance you've done before, a temporary escape from the harsh realities of your lives. And as Patrick leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, you let yourself surrender to the moment, pushing aside the hurt and resentment that has festered for so long. His hands roam your body with a desperate urgency, as if trying to memorize every curve and contour before this fleeting connection inevitably fades away.

You melt into his touch, your own hands tangling in his curly black hair, pulling him closer. The kiss deepens, a clash of tongues and teeth. Patrick's fingers find the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the soft skin of your waist.

A moan escapes your lips as his touch ignites a fire within you, a burning desire that consumes rational thought. You tug at his clothes, needing to feel his skin against yours, to lose yourself in the physicality of the moment.

Patrick responds in kind, his lips trailing hot kisses down your neck as you head towards the bedroom. You stumble together, a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothing, until you fall onto the bed in a heap.

For a moment, you stare at each other, chests heaving, eyes dark with want. His lips trail scorching kisses down your neck, his stubble rasping against your sensitive skin.

"Pat," you gasp, arching into his touch as his hands touch wherever they can reach.

He pauses, hovering above you, his eyes dark with desire and something more, something akin to regret. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice strained. "Tell me you don't want this."

But you can't. Because despite everything, the hurt and the anger and the years of distance, you do want this. You want him, even if it's just for tonight, even if it's a mistake you'll regret come morning.

"Don't stop," you breathe, pulling him back down to you.

Your shirt is discarded, followed by your bra, as Patrick's hands and mouth map the newly exposed skin. He lavishes attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling around each nipple until they peak into hardened buds. You writhe beneath him, your nails digging into his broad shoulders as the pleasure builds.

Patrick's lips trail lower, blazing a path down your stomach, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans. He pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes, silently seeking permission. You lift your hips in response, and he tugs the denim down your legs, taking your panties with them.

Exposed and vulnerable, you fight the urge to cover yourself, to hide from the intensity of his gaze. But Patrick looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, his eyes filled with a reverence that steals your breath.

"You're perfect," he murmurs, his hands skimming up your thighs, spreading them wider. "I never deserved you."

Before you can respond, his mouth is on you, his tongue delving into your folds, lapping at your most sensitive spots. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as he works you with expert precision, stoking the fire that burns within you.

Patrick slips a finger inside you, then two, curling them just so as his tongue continues its relentless assault on your clit. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you feel yourself hurtling towards the edge, your body tensing in anticipation.

"Pat, I'm going to—" you gasp, your words cut off by a moan as he redoubles his efforts, determined to unravel you completely.

And then you're shattering, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of blinding ecstasy. Patrick works you through it, his fingers and tongue gentling as you come down from the high, your body trembling with aftershocks.

He crawls back up your body, pressing tender kisses to your skin as he goes. When he reaches your lips, you taste yourself on his tongue, a heady reminder of the intimacy you've just shared.

"I need you," you whisper against his mouth, your hands fumbling with the button of his jeans. "Please, Patrick."

He helps you undress him, kicking off his jeans and boxers until he's as bare as you are. His erection springs free, hard and heavy against his stomach, and you reach out to wrap your fingers around him, reveling in the velvety softness of his skin.

Patrick groans at your touch, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. "Condom," he grits out, reaching for his discarded basketball shorts.

You wait impatiently as he rolls the latex over his length, your body thrumming with anticipation. When he settles between your thighs again, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance, teasing you with the promise of fullness. Your breath hitches as he slowly pushes forward, stretching you deliciously as he fills you inch by inch. A low moan escapes your lips at the exquisite sensation of him inside you, his thick length pulsing with need.

Patrick stills for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his forehead pressed against yours as he struggles to maintain control. "God, you feel incredible," he rasps, his voice strained with desire. "I've missed this. Missed you."

The confession tugs at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of the connection you once shared, the love that never quite died despite the pain and the years apart. You cling to him, your legs wrapping around his waist, urging him deeper.

He begins to move then, his hips rocking against yours in a steady rhythm that builds in intensity with each thrust. You meet him stroke for stroke, your bodies moving in perfect sync, as if no time has passed at all. The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the mingled gasps and moans, the whispered words of encouragement and praise.

Patrick's mouth finds yours again, his kisses deep and demanding, as if he's trying to pour all of his unspoken emotions into the press of his lips. Your fingers tangle in his curly black hair, tugging lightly as the pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter within you.

He shifts the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot deep inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. You cry out, your nails raking down his back, leaving crescent-shaped marks in their wake. Patrick hisses at the sting, but it only seems to spur him on, his movements becoming more frantic, more forceful.

"Touch yourself," he commands, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you come around me."

Obediently, you slip a hand between your bodies, feeling the heat and sweat radiating off of Patrick's skin. Your fingers glide lazily over his chest and down towards the area of need. However, unsatisfied with your own rhythm, Patrick's fingers boldly enter your mouth, collecting the saliva and making you involuntarily gag. Without hesitating, his fingers make their way back down to their intended destination, gently nudging yours out of the way. His thumb finds your clit, tracing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. The added stimulation sends electric shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, causing your inner walls to flutter around his throbbing cock.

You arch into his touch, your hands now exploring the hard planes of his chest, tracing the lines of his happy trail.

As Patrick moves within you, his eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, you can almost pretend that this means something more than a temporary escape, a fleeting connection in the midst of your fractured lives. But deep down, you know the truth.

This is all you can ever have with Patrick - stolen moments of passion, brief respites from the weight of your respective burdens. Tomorrow, you'll go back to being strangers, two people whose paths diverged long ago, held together only by the tenuous threads of history and desire.

With each deep thrust, Patrick stokes the fire building within you, pushing you closer to the brink of release. The fingers of his other hand dig into the soft flesh of your hips as he drives into you with increasing urgency, chasing his own climax.

"I'm close," he pants, his breath hot and ragged. "Give me another one. Come with me, baby. I’ve got you."

The endearment slips out unbidden, a echo of the past, of the tender moments you once shared. It's enough to send you tumbling over the edge, your walls clenching around him as euphoria floods your senses. Patrick follows a heartbeat later, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he spills himself inside you, his hips jerking erratically with the force of his release.

As your breathing slows and reality seeps back in, the weight of your history, of all the unspoken words and unresolved hurt, settles heavily in the room. Patrick rolls off of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing onto the mattress and pulling you to him.

For a long moment, you lie tangled together, chests heaving, hearts racing in sync. Patrick's weight is a comforting presence, his face buried in the crook of your neck as the aftershocks of pleasure gradually subside.

But as the haze of desire dissipates, reality begins to seep in, cold and unforgiving. You feel Patrick tense against you, his body growing rigid as the magnitude of what you've done settles over him. He moves away from you, tugging on his boxers in swift, mechanical movements.

The silence that stretches between you is heavy with unspoken regrets, with the bitter knowledge that this changes nothing. You pull the sheet up to cover your nakedness, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable in the harsh light of aftermath.

You turn your head to look at him, taking in the familiar lines of his profile, the curl of his lashes against his cheek. "What are we doing, Pat?" you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "I don't know," he admits, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "I just... I needed this. Needed you."

Your heart clenches at his words, a bittersweet mix of longing and resignation. You know you should put a stop to this, to the cycle of hurt and temporary solace that keeps bringing you back together. But the pull between you is too strong, the history too deep.

"I can't keep being your escape, Patrick," you say, your voice trembling slightly. "I can't keep pretending that this means something more than it does."

He turns to face you then, his lake blue eyes searching yours, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable in their depths. "What if it could?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "What if we could make it mean something more?"

For a moment, you allow yourself to imagine it - a life where you and Patrick find a way to bridge the gap between your worlds, to build something real and lasting. But the dream fades as quickly as it forms, the harsh realities of your lives intruding once more.

"I wish things could be different," Patrick murmurs, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. "I wish I could be the man you deserve."

Your eyes search his face for a glimmer of the boy you once knew, the one who stole your heart with his reckless charm and unbridled ambition. "We both made our choices, Pat," you whisper, your fingers reaching over to brush a stray curl from his forehead. "We can't go back.”

Patrick moves to sit on the edge of the bed, his back to you, shoulders hunched with the weight of his thoughts. You watch him, your heart aching with a familiar longing, a desperate wish for things to be different.

“I don’t even know what you really want from me. I doubt you do either. You’re just latching onto me because I’m something steady to grab a hold of.” Your voice is soft, tentative. “Look at me, Pat.”

He flinches at the sound of his name, as if the mere utterance is a painful reminder of the intimacy you've just shared. "Don't," he says, his tone flat, emotionless. "Please, just… don't."

You swallow back the words that threaten to spill out, the confessions and pleas that will only fall on deaf ears. Because you know, deep down, that Patrick will never be yours, not in the way you want him to be. His heart belongs to the court, to the thrill of the game, to the relentless pursuit of greatness that has consumed him for as long as you've known him. And the more it alludes him, the more desperate he is to obtain it.

And you? You're just a temporary port in the storm, a fleeting respite from the chaos of his life. A reminder of the girl he left behind, the love he sacrificed on the altar of his ambition.

Patrick stands abruptly, reaching for his discarded clothes. He dresses quickly, efficiently, his movements sharp and purposeful. You watch him in silence, a lump forming in your throat as the weight of the moment settles over you.

“Will you stop?” You sit up, pulling the blanket around you. “Just sleep here for tonight, Pat. You’re being difficult for no reason.”

Patrick's steps falter as he turns to you, his grip tight on the fabric of his shirt. His face is a mix of anger and frustration, but then it transforms into a vulnerable expression that catches you off guard. He runs a hand through his hair before letting out a heavy sigh. "I know I shouldn't ask after what happened between us...but will you come watch me play tomorrow?"

[hunsa-jars]

Maybe Shaun should just kiss someone finally, that would probs fix him

[dutybcrne]

Think abt Huffman & Kaeya having a Jean-Mikasa moment when they first met

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.

Long post ahead...

Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.

"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“...thank you.”

Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.

And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.

Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.

But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.

The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.

“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”

“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”

She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.

The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.

And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.

"I am sorry." He whispers.

"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."

Silence.

And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.

"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.

Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.

"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.

"Not always true," Solas shoots back.

So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.

Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.

I wish it could, vhenan.

And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.

And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.

And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.

He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.

He kills a friend.

He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.

But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.

"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).

The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.

Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.

“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.

"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.

Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.

It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.

There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.

"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.

I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."

But that isn't quite right, is it?

Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.

[eudaimaniacs]

quite an animal (logan howlett x female reader)

warning/s: dead dove do not eat, noncon, implied earlier noncon, mentions of kidnapping, etc. please proceed with caution.

You don't know how long you have been running away from him. Logan. The crazed man who took you a month ago, promising he would take care of you. If taking care means getting constantly hit by beer bottles, almost killed by his claws, and servicing him, then you're well taken care of.

You've had enough of Logan's abusive grip on you. So, you waited for the perfect time to escape this place you deemed hell. Logan would go out to buy some groceries by himself since he doesn't trust you going with him. You didn't attempt to escape before since you wanted to catch him off guard. You packed the little things Logan hadn't destroyed when he brought you to the cabin. You stole some money he had hidden and waited for your kidnapper to be far away.

The freedom you had wished for ever since greeted you when you opened the door. When you took your first step, you have never felt this happy. With your bag at the side, you began walking through the vast forest to escape this demented place.

After treading for about seven minutes, you finally saw the road. You smiled and thanked whatever divine being blessed you with this opportunity. You were free. You didn't have to suffer Logan's tight grip on you anymore. A few more miles and you could taste the sweet-

"Princess, what are you doing?"

Your body shook at the deep voice calling your attention. The universe had betrayed you, like a blunt knife getting sharp at the last minute and stabbing you in the heart. You didn't dare to face Logan. You didn't want to see his face or feel his presence.

"I asked you something, princess. What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" The grumpy man continued to question and make you more vulnerable.

You don't know if it's instinct or the desire to escape Logan, but you start running. You felt your eyes building up water as the reality dawned on you. Logan was keeping you here no matter what. He's going to use every method to cage you here forever.

The forest seems enormous now that you're in a life-or-death situation. The trees were never-ending, and there was no sign that you would get out anytime soon. You heard the heavy footprints of Logan chasing you. You didn't look back and see the furious, animalistic look he had. He didn't scream your name or command you to do anything.

He was catching up to your slow, almost tired running. You didn't bother to hold a weapon near you since defeating Logan was nearly impossible. Your legs were burning from the endless running. You wanted to give up, but the price of your freedom relied on it.

Your curiosity kills you as you dare to look at Logan behind you. He was fuming. His claws were out, and he discarded the flannel he wore earlier. Logan was determined to get you back. He looked like a predator hungry for prey.

As you focus on the path before you, a large rock suddenly makes you lose balance. You yelped at the force tripping you to the ground. You tried getting back up but felt Logan's foot stomping your back. You cried at the reality of not escaping this hell hole anytime soon.

"L-Logan, please, I'm s-s-sorry!" You pleaded to the feral man above you. He growled and turned you to face him. You went wide-eyed as you heard him huffing and threatening you with his metal claws.

Logan grunted and scolded you, "You escaped, [Y/N]. I won't show you any mercy even when we're in the middle of the forest." Before you can beg for forgiveness again, his claws rip the sheer dress that offered you little protection. You cried out and tried stopping Logan from doing this to you.

He hungrily bit and kissed your neck as he unbuckled his pants. The angry penis aroused by your attempt to escape him. You shook your head and promised that you wouldn't do that again. Your endless whines annoyed Logan, so he grabbed your neck to shut you up.

Without warning, his large member entered you, making you scratch his arm to fight him with little effect. Your voice was weakening as you pleaded and begged him to stop. However, Logan was an animal and chased his pleasure at the expense of hurting you. Your body betrayed you more as you felt your pussy hugging him tighter.

"You can't deny me, princess. Your wet pussy is so fucking tight. It's a perfect match for me," Logan groaned as he quickened his pace. You close your eyes, hoping you'll wake up from this nightmare. A monster taking advantage of you in the forest he held you captive in. You prayed to the gods to rescue you from this hell.

You felt your stomach twisting, indicating that you were close. Logan smirked as he saw the imprint of his cock on your stomach. You let out a weak moan that you didn't bother to suppress. After all, Logan won over your body even if your mind tried to disagree.

His thrusts falter as your orgasm crashes over you. You want to sleep and try to forget everything when you wake up. You knew you were returning to the cabin where you would live with an animal for the rest of your life. Logan retracted his claws and stayed inside of you, making sure that every drop of his cum painted your walls.

Like a switch, Logan suddenly became warm and softly whispered, "I'm going to clean you up, princess. Let's cuddle and eat something at the cabin." He kissed your forehead and carried you. Like a predator bringing his prey back to his cave, you surrendered and embraced Logan's sweetness. You weakly hold his chest, seeking comfort at the man who had and will always violate you.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[distort-opia]

Actually I also can't stop thinking about Erik's muttered "It's not that I don't trust you," to Charles, right before he puts on the helmet and shuts Charles out in First Class. Because with Days of Future Past in mind, it rings true. It's not that Erik doesn't trust Charles, it's more that he knows him.

In DOFP, when Raven takes away Erik's helmet and Charles controls him-- to remove the wreckage from himself, to stop him from killing more people-- Erik doesn't get mad. He doesn't even seem surprised. All he does is remind Charles that if he leaves him to be captured by the humans, he's as good as dead. And then Charles lets him go, without doing anything else.

Erik considers Charles using his powers in combat as fair play. He knows Charles can't allow people to die, won't condone murder. He's very aware what Charles' line is, and most of the time what he does is work with it or around it. "I'm going to kill Shaw, do you have it in you to allow that?" And Charles never gives a definitive yes or no. So Erik takes away the possibility of Charles saving Shaw-- without access to Erik's mind, Charles can only either let Shaw die or release him, risking Erik's life. If anything, Erik trusts Charles to choose him, and it's the same in DOFP. Charles still chooses not to put Erik in danger by letting him get captured, no matter what Erik might do afterwards. Even when Erik pulls the gun on Raven, breaking Charles' heart all over again, he coldly says "He can't," when Raven pleads with Charles to control Erik and stop him. He wouldn't have attempted the murder if Charles had been capable of interfering, knowing for sure he would've done it.

In the end, I feel like Erik does trust Charles. With his life, with his autonomy. To the extent of using it as a certainty in his manipulations. But he doesn't trust Charles to betray his beliefs for him, much like he wouldn't betray his own for Charles. The flippant jokes about how Charles could make him do anything when the helmet's off, to me always seemed like ways to test Charles and reassert this trust-- this boundary between who they are as leaders in a fight for the freedom of mutants, and who they are to each other as people. Professor X gets to stop Magneto in a fight... but Charles doesn't get to force Erik to change.

[awearywritersworld]

the man who embraced wickedness and the woman he used to know

sukuna x reader summary: sukuna is reunited with the only person who ever showed him kindness w/c: 1.25k tags/warnings: heian era!sukuna. angst to fluff. fem!reader. me trying my best to channel an 1800s romance novelist a/n: part 2 to the boy spurned as evil and the girl of his youth. i am once again asking that people check out the artwork by @demonzaemon that inspired these two fics. they also made some artwork inspired by part one, which makes me scream and cry and yell bc it's so wonderful. masterlist

it isn't until nearly two decades after your last encounter that sukuna finally musters the courage to return to the riverside. as he listens to the rush of the water, he hates the way it makes him feel— like the scared, powerless boy he once was.

he won't get too close. instead he stands at the edge of the forest, as if he can hide from his past among the trees.

he decides he must be dreaming when he spots a woman approaching the river, because even though he can see little more than her silhouette, he has no doubt that it's you.

he'd know you anywhere, in this life and the next.

he has no idea how long he stands watching you before he finally gathers the nerve to take a step in your direction.

you look over your shoulder and meet his eye once he's only a few yards away.

the expression that crosses your features is not unlike the one you wore when you first saw him— an earnest sort of wonder.

"it's you," you state as if you've been waiting on him to appear.

"you... remember me?"

"how could i forget?"

you approach him without fear or apprehension, and having you so close after all this time makes his heart race uncomfortably in his chest.

"are you well?" he questions, his eyes trailing down your body before flicking back up to yours. "you look it."

a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully. you rock on the heels of your feet before answering.

"i am well enough... and what of you?"

he's not sure that he's being entirely truthful when he replies, "i can say the same, i suppose."

"it pleases me to hear that you have not been suffering all this time. i must admit, i find that my thoughts still wander to you with remarkable frequency."

you laugh lightly at your own confession, fearing he may regard you as strange for it. on the other hand, he's thinking about how the sound of your laughter is the most beautiful thing he's heard since... well, since he last heard it.

"it is not rare for you to occupy the space of my own mind," he returns honestly.

you grab one of his hands, turning his palm up and running your thumb over the faint scar you find there. he hates the way it makes your face fall.

"i am sorry about that night, for what my father did to you. it was my fault for falling asleep—"

"don't," he stops you. "the fault lies only with me. i shouldn't have let him steal you away. i shouldn't have been so utterly weak—"

it's your turn to interrupt him and you press the pads of your fingers to his mouth to keep him from saying anything more.

"that is the farthest thing from the truth. you didn't deserve that. you deserved not one bit of the cruelty the village mercilessly showed you. you were only a boy, sukuna."

when your fingers fall from his lips, he doesn't try to speak. he doesn't trust that his voice won't betray him.

he can't remember the last time he heard his name spoken so familiarly, so warmly. it makes his throat feel tight.

the silence gives you an opportunity to take in the ways in which he's changed over the years.

his kimono and haori are pristine, a far cry from the rags he used to wear.

his frame is more than double the size of your own, and you know he's no longer living on scraps.

he stands tall, his posture straight and self assured, not that of someone who is feeble and frightened.

but you're not referring to any of those things when you point out, "you're different now."

and of course you're right, he just doesn't know how to tell you that the boy you used to spend your days with is gone. that the blood on his hands is no longer his own. that the person standing before you is nothing more than the monster the villagers always claimed him to be.

so he just nods in agreement and your eyes sparkle as you regard him with curiosity.

"i loved you, you know," you tell him sincerely.

your confession is painful to hear, because it reminds him of everything he lost that night.

"i could love you now, too." you reach up and caress his cheek, trying desperately to read the expression he's wearing. "if you'll let me."

for a moment, you think he might agree to your offer, but your hope is short lived.

"this... this was a mistake."

he turns to leave, intending to retreat to the shadows of the forest, but a small hand wraps around his wrist.

"no." your tone is forceful.

if only you knew what happens to most people who dare speak that word in his presence.

he doesn't say anything, so you add, "the only mistake you've made is waiting so long to come back to me."

he's surprised upon seeing the frustrated tears that well up in your eyes.

"we are but strangers to one another." his reminder stings and it shows plainly on your face. "and that is for the best, i assure you. you don't want to know me— to know the things i've done."

"i care not what you've done!" your voice is so loud, it sends a flock of birds fleeing from a nearby tree. "i care not what horrors loneliness may have driven you toward, because when we belonged to one another you were good. you were kind. you were—"

"stop." each of your words is like a knife in his chest, and his voice cracks from the ache of it.

"i will not! if your only intention was to reject me, why come here at all?"

"i don't know—"

"precisely! you want me, just as i want you. my devotion is yours, sukuna! there is no reason for you to reject that which i willingly give—"

"enough!" he barks at you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders. you don't shy away from him, even in spite of the way his fingers dig into your flesh and his nose flares angrily.

"you believe that because you showed me a sliver of kindness when we were children that i should throw myself at your feet? your devotion means nothing to me! it does little more than inspire my disgust!"

the words taste like poison on his tongue, but he needs you to believe them.

he needs to believe them himself.

he pushes you away, and while it's not harshly enough to send your body flying to the grass, it does make you stumble backwards.

ire burns in your eyes and he thinks he's succeeded in his endeavor, but once he turns to leave, you're grabbing his wrist again and launching yourself against him.

your hands find his face and you pull his lips to yours despairingly. your bodies move together as if you've spent a lifetime in one another's arms.

then, he's pulling away from you. he's calling you a pathetic fool. he's looking at you with animosity.

but just as quickly, his lips find yours again and he grabs at the fabric of your kimono in an attempt to bring your body closer to his own.

you swear his hands tremble as they find a home on the curve of your hips.

once your lips part, he holds your gaze for what feels like an eternity.

resignation seems to dance across his features, but there's something else there too. desire? hope? longing?

you really can't say for certain.

"i am yours, and you are mine."

you're not sure if it's a question or a statement, so you offer him a slight nod of your head. "today and always."

[leviismybby]

"Your first word when you were a kid was fuck." Levi says causally sipping tea at the breakfast table, currently he was talking to his son who sat opposite him. "And whose fault is that? Because I know that mom was mad about it for like a week." His son says sipping from his mug, you listen from the kitchen, a smile spreading on your lips. It is true, his first words were fuck and you still remember vividly how it went, your son wasn't even a year old.

Levi was sitting on the floor as the baby crawled around, playing with his toys. It felt like just yesterday you had given birth to him, and now he was eight months old, crawling around and babbling. His little hand reaches for Levi's odm swords that were leaning on the wall, but he is quick to pull the baby back before he can touch them. "No. Too fucking sharp for you." You look at Levi and put your hands on your hips. "Don't use language around him, he might pick it up."

Sure was just eight months old, but babies have a neck to try and repeat random words. "He is a baby, name. He won't pick up a term like fuck." Levi says holding his son in his lap, the baby looks around and then. "Fuk." The little babble leaves your son mouth and you glare at Levi. "Oh he won't pick it up will he?" Levi sighs, his son sure had the timing. "Look on the bright side, at least we will laugh at this when we look back on it."

"And then your mother forbid me from cursing around you." Levi says at the ending to the story, his laughs before taking another bite out of his toast. "What was my second word?" He asks his father, looking at the scar that runs across his face. "If I remember correctly, it was dada." Taking a sip of his tea, Levi is still smug about that. "Hey, at least it wasn't a curse word. Mom was probably happy, right, ma?" You turn to look at your son. He grew up so fast now 16 years of age the resemblance between him and Levi uncanny. "Trust me, a curse word would've been better at the time. I spend my time trying to teach you how to say mama, and you betrayed me."

"Sorry, ma." Your son looks at the time and then quickly gets off his chair. "I have to go, I'll be late for school." Grabbing his bag, he quickly says goodbye to you and Levi and then rushes out of the door. "He has that from you, you know?" You smile at your husband knowing what he is referring to but still deciding to question it. "Has what from me?" Levi looks up at you, his lips forming into a slight smile. "Tardiness. You always used to be late for training and meetings. It got on my nerves." Chuckling, you lean in and kiss him on the cheek. "And yet you never gave me a hard time." Levi turns his head and kisses you on the lips softly. "Shit, what can I say? I still have a soft spot for you."

[deathbxnny]

hello, jing yuan, aventurine and sunday with a teen!assasin reader who was ordered by their master to kill them but couldnt and [character] took them in due to their young age and frankly them being pitiful

Another similar ask:

hiii, dr ratio aventurine and boothill with an IPC agent/assasin teen!reader?

Reader was practically forced onto assasination, is hardened and doesnt show much emotion due to their past kinda similar to bronya zaychik backstory in the azure waters manga

This post is made in combination with these two asks, so I hope you'll like this!! And thank you to the anons for their request!!<33

Content: Angst, assassination attempts, Reader is a teen assassin that has no direct origin, platonic relationships, father/older brother figures, fluff, some brainwashing on Sundays end, sfw

Characters: Sunday, Aventurine, Boothill

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not fully proofread))

》BOOTHILL

He finds your attempt at killing him rather amusing. Maybe a bit too amusing. He laughed hysterically when he finally pinned you down with ease, thinking this was all just a joke... until he realised that you were serious.

Now, Boothill was used to people trying to off him through various ways, his robotic body the perfect proof for that, but he never had a kid try him before. And he had to admit, that you would've gotten him, if he was still fully human! Truly impressive!

He won't bother asking you where you're from or what you lead him to you in the first place. Once he gets you to settle down and hears you telling him that you can't return to your master until you kill him, he just sighs and scratches his head. Well... he doesn't really want a kid to die at the hands of their abusive master... so he supposes that he'll just have to take you in until he finds a hime for you.

He isn't put off by your emotionless behavior and even understands it very well, if anything. He doubts anyone could be happy under the harsh conditions you grew up in, but that doesn't mean that he won't try and teach you how to loosen up a bit. It doesn't occur to him over time that he never really looked out for a home for you as promised. Perhaps you have found it with him already anyway.

》SUNDAY

Sunday found your attempt quite saddening, absolutely pitiful and near pathetic, if he felt cruel that day. He felt no worry or fear, knowing that whoever sent you must've been a fool to think that a child could end him of all people, and yet, he doesn't tease nor punish you for it. It wasn't your fault that you were born to be mistreated at such a young age, after all.

He takes you under his wing as a disciple or student in a way. He wants to teach you the "truth" about life and what it means to be alive in the dreamscape. Your dreams can become true here, so why not teach you how to live on after your palms have been stained red forever?

Your emotionless and apathetic behavior does little to deter or bother him. He sees you as a child he had to save before the shadows of this sinful took over you completely. His tuning ability is not spared on you either, if that's what it takes for you to get better. He eventually starts to view you as a little sibling and is delighted when you get along with Robin.

Deep down, he will, however, always feel a little... worried that you may turn around to betray him the way you betrayed your original master by leaving him, too. But he hopes that all his lessons and the home he gave you makes you stay and be grateful for all the love and mercy he had given you

》AVENTURINE

Similar to Boothill, he finds your attempt amusing at best. Pitiful at worst, as he sees a younger him in your cold gaze. He knows he shouldn't trust you after what you just tried... but he makes a deal with you anyways, after you were forced to take a seat infront of him by some IPC guards. If you beat him in a card game, he'll let you take his life and get away with it. If you lose, then you'll have to allow him to take you in as a little "assistant" of some sort. In reality, he just wants to save you from yourself, this determination even foreign to him yet welcomed bravely.

Unsurprisingly, you lose. He jokes that it must've been due to his unbeatable luck... but he really just rigged the game a little. There was no harm in it, and if anything, he just saved your life through it. Otherwise, the IPC would've just executed you for trying to attack one of their agents. Even if Aventurine doubted, they even cared that much for him... but he won't tell you that either.

He gave you a calming, stress-free life, one far away from all the hurt and death you've been surrounded with since birth. He hears your story and perhaps even shares a part of his own, as he shows you that you are the same in a way. You don't have to kill and hurt anymore under his care, he promises you that and to a younger self he was trying to heal through it.

[bohoteacher]

Navigating Betrayal: Reconciling Admiration with Disillusionment

Like many Neil Gaiman fans this month, I've been shocked and distressed by the news regarding the SA allegations. I won't go over the details, as they're readily available online. I'll start by saying that I believe the accusers, and even the most lenient interpretation of events is still troubling enough to discredit Gaiman. For a long time, I didn't know what to say. I was just shocked and, somewhat naively, felt betrayed. I don't typically idolize actors, authors, or other public figures—I'm here for the characters, they're who I love and believe in. So, how did I end up believing in this man and his rhetoric?

I only had a parasocial relationship with him, which is to say no real relationship at all. But I took his Masterclass on writing, spent hours taking notes, and learned from him. I feel betrayed by someone I saw as a beloved teacher. I know this is insignificant compared to what the women who came forward experienced, but it's a valid feeling, and I needed time to process it. My initial reaction was to throw out and discount everything he’s ever written or done—of course it was.

This isn't just about my love for Good Omens, although how can it not be? I learned so much from this man—about writing, about not being too hard on myself, about the creative process. I read his books to my middle school classes, and we all learned how to be better people from them. Today, I saw and bought Instructions, a children’s book by Neil Gaiman illustrated by Charles Vess, from the used bookstore where I volunteer. It was a used copy, so no royalties will go to him. It’s a beautifully illustrated book where the main character walks through a land that clearly symbolizes life, learning lessons like saying please and "if any creature cries to you that it hurts, if you can, ease its pain." How could someone write this and then do what he did? I asked myself. "What an evil hypocrite," was my first thought. But then I recalled a line from another author, Stephen King. In The Stand, a character is described as "awake at the lectern, but asleep at the switch," meaning they know the right thing to do and can talk about it, but in the moment of choice, they act without integrity.

I don’t know if I’m making sense, but I think it’s too easy to label Gaiman as simply evil, as if he intentionally manipulated us by saying the right things just to make us read or watch his creations. The reality is likely far more complicated. Within this man is the amazing, thought-provoking, life-affirming wisdom that many of us have tried to live by, but also the hard, thoughtless, selfish cruelty that led him to abuse young, vulnerable women. The wisdom does not justify the abuse, and the abuse does not nullify the wisdom.

I think it's too simplistic to say Gaiman is despicable and always has been, hiding it from us all along. This doesn't acknowledge the complexity of human nature—that there is potential for both good and bad within us all. As it’s said, possibly by Terry Pratchett or possibly by Neil Gaiman, “It may help to understand human affairs to be clear that most of the great triumphs and tragedies of history are caused, not by people being fundamentally good or fundamentally bad, but by people being fundamentally people.”

Gaiman is a man who has done some fundamentally good things and some fundamentally bad things. I can’t forget either one.

This is just my opinion. I know some people want to cancel him, while others want to exonerate him. You do you. As for me, I will continue to love Aziraphale and Crowley. I will continue to read and create fan-fiction. I will continue to find comfort and wisdom in books that have meant so much to me over the years. But I will also remember that they were created by a very flawed man whom I can no longer trust.

I understand that opinions on this matter vary widely. I know some people might feel that not discarding everything associated with him is wrong, but this is where I stand. I’m not looking to debate this or be told how I should react. I just needed to process my thoughts in writing and move forward in the way that feels right for me.

[toast-on-dandelioms]

So this is the continuation for this post, after @orderdchaosthings2 requested it. Sorry for the delay in writing it but I was pretty busy with school.

Hope you like it!

Bat kids reaction to you calling Clark "dad"

Dick Grayson: oh he would be so shocked as to why you would call the kryptonian 'dad'.

Ok you still don't know Bruce wants to 'adopt' you but you shouldn't call that man 'dad' when Bruce is right there.

He would feel betrayed even though you and him never even had a conversation that lasted 5 minutes when you're not with your mask on.

Plus you never even talked to him when you're Spider but he still expects you to treat him as your big brother.

So Dick would probably be delusional and think you should immediately see him as your older brother and also betrayed that you see Clark as a father figure and not Bruce.

Jason Todd: he would stay silent before realising you didn't call Bruce dad but Clark.

He would laugh for a minute at the thought of Bruce's face before realising what it meant.

Because if you see Clark as a father, it would be more difficult to kidnap you especially if you already have a father figure.

Plus, with Clark already getting to you from what he saw means the plan they had failed and would have to find another method to kidnap you.

Like, they already planned to kidnap you during this mission but because of Clark's insistence of being with you and you calling him dad made it even more difficult.

Plus he would now prepare ways to block Clark if he ever tries to stop them if Bruce isn't able to manipulate him.

He would be annoyed since he's one of the ones who's not as delusional as the rest of the Batkids.

Tim Drake: he's shocked by what you said and especially when he knew you weren't calling Bruce but Clark.

He would review every footage of you and Superman together after Bruce planted a small camera in his suit, to see what Clark had that made you trust him when you completely avoid him and the others bats.

(You never take off your mask around Clark if you're thinking about that)

He would study every video, trying to understand how Clark did that and trying to find ways to also get close to you.

He would become even more obsessed than he already was, trying to find anything to become closer to you like an obsessed fan towards a celebrity.

Plus, if we go to when you're imprisoned in the manor, he would be one of the worst people to be with by how obsessed he is and how much he knows.

Damian Wayne/Al Ghul: ok again, shocked but also extremely angry when he understands the situation.

He would be mad at Clark, even at Jon even though he didn't even meet you and just knows you by your vigilante name.

He would blame Clark for it, mad that his chances of getting praised and just be with you (in a platonic way) were slowly decreasing because of his interference.

He would hate the kryptonian even more and resent Jon for a while before calming down and starting to use Jon to make Clark meet Jon and then he can come along since he's Jon's best friend.

He would never be mad at you, just annoyed and would need a lot of reassurance from you when you get kidnapped that you love him and won't go with Clark's family and stay with him.

[multific]

Control

John Price x Reader

Summary: John was a man who liked being in control, and you were a woman who hated giving men what they wanted, so when it came to questioning you, John found himself in a rather tough spot.

"So, Miss Y/L/N... Codename... Black Cat. I have read your files." John Price put the papers down before he sat down at the table across you.

You watched him, not saying a word.

"Your Captain said that you are the best, but what it is exactly that you do?" he leaned back in his chair as you leaned forward.

Game on.

"If you read my file, you must know, so ask the questions you really want to ask, Captain Price." a small smile, just a tiny one, for a split second could be seen on his face. 

He liked you.

But again, everyone liked you.

Even if you behaved like a bitch.

"How? How do you do it? I have read about the mission in Qatar, you rescued over a hundred people. No casualties. No one saw you going in or coming out, so, how did you do it?"

"My Captain said that Taskforce 141 needed someone a little more... flexible. She said it will do me good coming here to help you, Captain Price. So, if you need my help, I suggest you refrain from asking more... stupid questions. With all due respect." your eyes never left him, you just sat there, legs crossed under the table, your hands on top of the table, resting.

"They say you are the best getting in and out. No witnesses, no death."

"Who are they?"

"I need someone who can do this job for me, I do not need an amateur egoist who won't work with my team and won't answer simple questions."

"Now, am I the best or an amateur? The two really don't work together. Also, if you continue insulting me, Sir, I might change my mind and just go back."

"How do you do it?! How can you get hundreds of people out of a building without anyone noticing?"

"I just have them focus on something else." you replied, your hand reaching for the cup in front of you. "And while they are looking elsewhere, I get what I want." you lifted your other hand and showed him the gun in your hand. His gun.

John watched you in amazement, but you could also see a hint of fear. Fear of the unknown, you were already used to that.

"I will send you the file tomorrow. Be ready at 5:00am." he stood from his seat, ready to leave after he got his gun back from you.

"So tell me John, am I an amateur or am I the best?" you asked as you turned and looked at him.

"You definitely are... something, Doll." you smirked as he walked away.

Oh, you will have a great time playing with the handsome Captain.

How sad that the Captain didn't realize that he was already in the claws of the cat.

Being played with, you will have your fun.

---

Captain Price got shot.

He walked right into a trap even though you warned him.

And now, you were hiding in a small shed with him.

He got shot in his left thigh.

"I told you not to go in there."

"I thought it was safe, they said it was clear."

"Yeah, and then betrayed us." you let out a sigh as you pushed on his wound, he groaned loudly. "Now, I will get the bullet out okay? bite down on this." you handed him a piece of wood.

John barely made a sound as you removed the bullet from his leg and treated his wound as best as you could.

"Don't trust the radio." he said, not like you didn't already know, yet you chose not to reply. You had bigger issues at hand, an injured Captain and a betrayal... "You have lovely eyes." you made you freeze as you looked at John.

His head, leaning against the wall as he watched you.

"So beautiful." he whispered. It had to be the blood loss.

You tried to convince yourself. It had to be the blood loss. What else could it be?!

"You are stunning." he continued, his voice sounding like a dream. You tried your best to focus.

Blood loss.

"So fierce and firey."

Blood loss.

"I like you very much, ya know?"

Blood loss.

"I shouldn't but I do."

"Captain." your voice sounded like a warning. A warning John was too oblivious to realize.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you." you replied immediately. And you truly didn't it was a simple attraction you felt towards him, an attraction you thought best to keep under cover. Perhaps he was the same, and with his delusion, he finally admitted them. "I do really like you John." you said as you sat down on the floor in front of him.

You knew you two were safe here in this basement.

But you weren't safe from your own feelings and his.

"But you do."

"To be fair, you were the one that interviewed me."

"I did that because I found you attractive. I couldn't believe my eyes, you were skilled, sexy and pretty at the same time!"

"I will get us out of here." you said as you tried to avoid his confessions. 

"I know you will, Doll. The question is whether I will be alive or not."

"I stopped your bleeding." he looked down at his leg and saw his bandaged up leg.

"Oh. You did." he genuinely sounded surprised. You let out a sigh, quietly, you rather not attract his attention.

"Take this." you said as you reached into your pocket and gave him a small pill. "It will help with the pain and... delusions."

"I'm not delirious. I'm only in love."

"Even worse."

"You could say that again." he let out another sigh, your eyes never left his face.

He was handsome, way too handsome for his own good.

He looked so good with a longer beard, it did things to you. You remember when you first met him his face was shaved. It was months ago, and it always felt like you two have been dancing around each other.

And now, in this unfortunate situation, you two confessed your feelings. Even if his mind was foggy due to the blood loss.

You knew his words rang with the truth. You weren't stupid, you knew exactly what was between you two, and was unsaid.

But you knew it could never be more than the looks you gave each other, the usual bantering, filled with flirting and sarcasm. 

It was good, it was unsaid, but a simple wound ruined it, and he didn't even know what he had just done.

And he didn't realize until you saved him and he was in the hospital wing.

It was a slow process, having to move him to safety and not getting caught, but you managed.

After all, you were the best.

The nurse explained to you that he was sleeping, but he wasn't.

He laid awake, recalling everything he said and did. He would have regretted it if it wasn't for you. He was ready to apologise and pretend it never happened but you reciprocated his feelings.

You told him that you liked him, you smiled at him so sweet and patched up his wound. You didn't pull away or frown, you stayed and told him that you liked him as well.

Two days passed since you last seen John.

He called you into his office the third day, needing to "have a talk in private". 

You assumed he would ask you to forget everything he said and move on.

You sat in front of him and he finally looked at you.

"I can't say my words were lies. I cannot and will not say that I don't feel a certain affection towards you. But our line of work is not made for relationships and feelings. I cannot go on a mission, worrying about you when I have three other men by my side. It wouldn't be fair."

"You wouldn't have to worry, Sir. Laswell asked me to work with her, we would work on strategies and come up with new trainings. Since I proved I know how to handle even the most extreme hostage situations, she wants my knowledge on paper. We wouldn't have to hide, John." you watched him as he processed the information. "If you want to, of course." you quickly added and he suddenly stood up, scaring you enough to jolt up as well.

You did it in defence, it was, after all, part of your training.

John rounded the table and stopped in front of you.

"Of course, I want you." the way he said it, with such desperation in his voice, made you weak.

You grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to kiss you.

Your lips collided with his and it all felt so right.

It was something you have longed for for months now.

Taglist: @castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse  @jacalineiscomingforyou @mandoloriancookie @brascaris @il0vebeingdelulu @deliciousfestsalad @groovyqueer

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE OR REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[walpu]

Hello, first of all i want to say i really like your work and your writings 💞 Can i request some sickness headcanons with Aventurine when dating reader? Preferably hcs about how he would act if he was the one sick, and if the reader was sick. Thank you!

Thank you so much 🥹

Hope you'll enjoy it!

sickness headcanons with Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes - gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no beta

I think Aven has a weak immune system due to the hardships he faced as a child. It's quite easy for him to catch a cold even if the weather is nice.

Hates it with a burning passion.

I mean it always sucks to be sick but he hates it for a bunch of other reasons as well.

It's time-consuming and he's a busy person, that's what he tells everyone.

And while it's true, the main reason is that he simply hates being so weak and vulnerable.

He has a private doctor who treats him but Aven doesn't fully trust them either.

He usually just takes his meds and tries to walk it off. Not like he can afford to take a day-off anyway.

When the two of you start dating and you notice that he doesn't feel well, he would try to brush it off. No big deal, baby. Just a bit tired. If we cuddle I'll get better <З

He trusts you, he truly does. However, it doesn't mean he wants you to see him miserable, weak and with a red stiffy nose. He doesn't like this image of himself so what if you won't like it either?

If he has a fever he will try to distance himself from you. Doesn't want you to get seek as well, he truly doesn't wish to be a cause of your discomfort.

Plus, what good can he give you when he's like that anyway? A bit off-topic but I just keep thinking about his "you can use me however you want me even betray me <З" line and his lunar new year card where he's like "yeahhh if you spend the day with me you'll be lucky for the rest of the year soooo" babygirl i promise you don't need to bribe me or be convenient just to have some company

Would never refuse your care though. Simply can't do it, he's a weak weak man. May whine a bit at the beginning, trying to convince you that this is not necessary, but as soon as you sooth him and maybe kiss his forehead he gives up completely.

Suddenly forgets all about the possibility of you getting sick if you keep being too close to him, will cling to you like a kitten.

"Your cuddles are the best medicine~" my ass.

Would follow all of your instructions even if they're questionable.

Wants to be spoon-fed too. Anddd tuck him in. And kiss his forehead. And stay by his side until he falls asleep.

He's needy okay. He never had anyone who would care for him when he's so weak so he cherishes every moment. May even get a bit upset when he's feeling better.

Would ask you to look after him for a few more days juts to make sure he's 10000% okay. Keep dotting on his tho because what if he'll get sick again because of the lack of cuddles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you're the one who's seek he'll overreact.

Like even if it's the smallest thing, he'll insist on calling his own private doctor to check on you.

You're the best thing in his life, his promised dawn. Of course he'll look after you. Even if looking after you means being a clingy mother hen.

No excuses, he'll take care of you. Even if you have seen worse. Even if you're very busy. Even if it's not that big of a deal.

The problem is. He's never looked after a sick person before.

His every attempt to nurse you back to health is overwhelming. Tries every single method he can find in the internet so please stop him if needed.

Insists on cuddling you all of the time. Generally tries to do everything you do for him when he's sick since you're literally his only example.

If you receive too many work-related phone calls from someone he would not hesitate to pick up the phone before you and say that yeah y/n is busy right now, they are sick, so the optimal solution would be for the caller to deal with their own problems, surely they are not so helpless to rely on a sick person to do everything for them :)

Just wants for you to be alright as soon as possible.

[kadwrites]

unspoken | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary; some confrontations cannot be avoided.

warnings; arranged marriage!trope, SLOW burn, tommy has trust issues, angst, typos probably.

a/n ; the next part is so good, i promise.

-

"what?" your eyes snap wide open. your heart starts beating out of your chest, not for the reason it was a moment ago

"i said , what are ya hiding from me?" he repeats, his breath fanning over your neck and ear

you pull away, both of you looking at eachother "what are ya talking about ?"

"stop lying to me" he mutters, his voice is still calm and collected and it makes the hair on your neck stand.

just like it used to do when you first met him.

"tommy" you try to speak but he cuts you off

"ya know who i am" you feel as if he's staring into your mind, reading your thoughts "there is no use lying to me, if ya won't tell me i will find out some other way."

you don't speak back this time, you try, you open your mouth and you shut it again

"i wanted ya to tell me first,"

"whatever you're thinking, it's not that."

"and what am i thinking? hm?" he tilts his head slightly

"i don't know but it's definitely not good." your brows knit together "do ya not trust me?"

"how can i trust you?"

your heart stops beating, it seems. "what?"

"how can i trust you if you're hiding things from me?"

"do ya not 'ave secrets yourself?" you feel as if your mouth is dry and a lump is lodged in your throat "can ya really say that you're completely honest with me?"

"what do ya want to know?" he asks, pulling away slightly too. "when 'ave i ever not told ya something that you've asked me about?"

"do ya think that i'm about to stab ya in the back?"

"are you?" his eyes never leave yours

"why-" why would i do that?, but you realize maybe to him, you had every reason to. or maybe , you should have a reason to "i wouldn't do that."

"then what is it you're hiding?"

you let out a bitter chuckle, your hands rubbing at your eyes. you step away.

"look" you turn to him , "if ya can't trust me to not stab ya in the back then maybe we shouldn't.... we shouldn't do this" you lick your lips, looking away

his hands grab at your jaw, turning your face to him. his touch is gentle, but his eyes make your breath hitch again "you're running away now?"

"no" you try to not let your voice crack "i just don't appreciate this, i don't appreciate ya thinking that i'm not to be trusted"

"what do ya expect me to think?" his voice is soft and low "i've already been betrayed before, i can't let it 'appen again."

"this isn't at all what ya think it is" you repeat "please just..... 'ave some faith in me."

he eyes dart between yours "do ya 'ave faith in me?"

"i do, but this is .... it's about me," you lick your lips again "it's something from my past, and it's something i 'ave to deal with myself."

"is someone trying to hurt ya?"

"no no no" you shake your head, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them again "it's nothing like that"

"mr shelby?" celest's eyes almost bulge out of her face, as her head peeks to see who was knocking at her door

"celest." he nods , taking off his hat. "may i come in?"

"oh , yes yes, please do come in." she stands back, pulling the door to let him come in. she leads him to the living room.

her children ran outside as soon as they saw him, taking rose with them.

"can i get ya anything?" she asks nervously as he sits down, she bends down to pick up the scattered toys "please excuse the mess, sir."

"it's tommy." he corrected her, he motions to the chair in front of the sofa "sit down, celest."

she sits down after putting the toys in the box. her hands clasped in her lap "how can i help ya, tommy?"

"your sister is hiding something from me" he leans back. he takes out his cigarette case, putting one in his mouth and offering one to her.

she takes one and lights it with his lighter before giving it back.

"and i 'ave a feeling ya know what it is?"

she takes a drag of the cigarette , her eyes looking away from him "what did she tell ya?"

"that's it's something from 'er past."

"i don't think.... it's my place to speak about it." she breathes out the smoke, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray "but i know that she's hiding it because she felt it was in the best interest of your... marriage." she mumbled, before taking another drag

"what did ya tell 'er?" he asks casually, crossing his legs

"i told 'er she shouldn't hide anything."

"is someone out to hurt 'er?"

she's not used to him speaking to her, let alone asking her questions such as those

"i don't think so no." she shakes her head, exhaling the smoke "she's worried it might hurt you"

"me?" he's almost amused. "why?"

she huffs a laugh "i don't know"

"well this was enlightening." he says with a small smile towards celest

"did ya expect to rat my sister out to 'er own fiancé ?"

"a little bit , yeah." he nodded

"well, i'm more loyal to 'er than ya thought"

"is she as loyal to me as i think she is?"

she stops talking , the cigarette is still between her fingers. she tilts her head, staring at him "why are ya marrying 'er if ya think so low of 'er?" her voice turns a little more serious, defensive.

"she takes after ya a lot , ya know?" he says with a small breath, "i just wanted to see something is all."

"mr shelby i understand what ya might be worrying about, maybe there are women who would do that to a man like yourself." she says with a calm voice, putting out her cigarette in the ashtray before staring him down "but my sister isn't one of them. she's as loyal as they come. the real question is , are you as loyal as she thinks ya are? are ya as good as she paints ya out to be?"

"she will not know about this, i will not tell 'er a word ya said." she gets up, looking him up and down " 'ave a good day, mr shelby."

-

taglist ; @tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator , @theshelbyslimited , @illuminwtesz , @goldensunflowe-r , @gruffle1 , @warrior-of-justice , @mgdixon , @babayaga67 , @goblinjnr , @justaproudslytherpuff , @budugu , @twlegit , @amberpanda99 , @aesthetic0cherryblossom , @capswife , @lets-turn-and-burn , @affabletimelady , @edencherries , @globetrotter28 , @eg-dr3amer3 , @sadroses98 , @fairytale07 , @hakudaru , @swordofawriter , @esposadomd , @blogforficslol ، @bearchermer, @n1c0t1n4 , @dreamy-caramel , @dragonsondragons , @charli123456789 ، @bunny24sstuff ، @butterfly-lover , @my-tin-can-mans , @powellssaturn , @vlryexsworld , @h0neylemon , @citris-runaway , @swinginmusicalfunnydragon , @babyspice6 , @oatmealisweird , @yuki254 , @ce1iat , @thelastemzy , @queenofshinigamis , @bai-wuxiangs-mask , @knmendiola ، @bethexo07 , @geeky-politics-46 , @dawnzzzz , @probablypossesedbysatan , @n0vaj3an , @oscarisdaddy69 , @nadloves

[violet-butterflies]

❥︎ yandere! Villain Headcanons

❥︎ Warnings ! ☞︎︎︎ stalking, violence, gore, angst ☞︎︎︎ A/N If you recognized this character then you probably read my work from Quotev. Or I might be wrong and my story might be more generic and/or similar to another author's work than I thought lmao. ( male yandere! oc x gn reader )

❥︎ yandere! Villain who disguises as a hero he killed earlier that week. He purposely caused a huge chaos in town where he can come in and pretend to help! After that, he can always go into the hero's circle and infiltrate the hero's defense systems and take the hero's powers all for himself!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is betrayed as a child by the very heroes that are supposed to protect him and his small village. Now, equipped with shadow powers that allow him to absorb and transform into the heroes he's killed, he is gonna hunt for the most powerful hero in town!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who meets the hero's overworked sidekick. No matter, you won't be a problem in his master plan at all.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is frustrated about how the hero barely shows up to most of the chaos he and his minions have caused. For god's sake, he made sure to cause trouble for the whole week so he could pretend to be friends with the hero and gain more intel! Why are you the one showing up to deal with all this?!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who has to change his plans due to how much the hero was not showing up. Maybe he can use you to hunt the hero down! After all you are his sidekick and, he must say, your company is not half bad!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who spends a lot of time with you to gain your trust; hoping that is he gets close enough you'd take him to the hero's hideout! But wait, why are you actually interesting?

❥︎ yandere! Villain who finds out you were betrayed by the heroes too. He can't help but sympathize with you but he just doesn't get how you still want to join forces with them. In fact, it only pushes you to protect the people even more! Not only that, he even found out that the hero barely does anything to help you if the crime is not big enough to take any significant credit! He can't help but feel a big need to protect you from people that are clearly taking advantage of you. This also makes him want to tear the hero down even more for taking advantage of your undeserved kindness.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who finds a lot of things in common with you and eventually hangs out with you for no reason on top of a building somewhere when nothing is happening. You were so sweet and kind! He wants to stop disguising himself because he feels bad fooling you. He's sure you'd fall in love care for who he really is anyways because it's his personality you've been hanging out with this whole time!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who finds out your real identity and where your family lives. Apparently, they live far away from the big city. Perfect! Now he has a way to get you out of the city for his master plan. You won't be there to help the hero. and you will be safe in case anything goes wrong.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is pretending to feel sympathy for your mom who apparently got harassed by a thug and needed to be hospitalized. Oh you needed to go home for a few weeks to take care of your mom? Don't worry about it, he'll make sure to keep the city safe! tell your mom that he's sorry for beating her up

❥︎ yandere! Villain who summons a murderous demon to massacre the city! Now that you aren't here to help the hero, he's free to let loose and do as much damage he can to draw the hero out and kill him! He doesn't even have to do a thing! All he has to do is to be a vessel for the demon and he can watch under his subconscious!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is in a panic since instead of the hero, you were the one that showed up. What were you doing here?! You're supposed to be with your mom! No no! You can't handle this yourself! Y/N GET OUT OF HERE YOU'LL DIE! PLEASE GET OUT OF HERE I DON'T WANT TO HURT THE PERSON I LOVE!

❥︎ yandere! Villain who gains back control when it is too late. Lying on the concrete streets is the broken and bruised body of his beloved sidekick. You are covered in bruises and blood. Multiple stab wounds covered your body and you were missing a whole arm. On top of that, crimson blood oozed out of you and you were losing heat quick. He doesn't even bother to hide his true identity since he wants you to see who he actually was at least once.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who is crying while he apologizes to your unconscious body. His whole body is shaking as he tries his hardest to find any solution to fix the problem he caused.

❥︎ "Please y/n wake up! I'm so sorry! Please don't leave me alone! You've barely even met me! The real me! So please open your beautiful eyes and tell me that everything is going to be ok!"

❥︎ yandere! Villain who shoots a sharp glare to the hero and lets out a string of profanities when the hero showed up late, witnessing the villain hug the body of his sidekick; he himself can't help but stare, feeling mortified and remorse.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who takes you to his hideout where he keeps you hooked up on all sorts of machines to keep your body alive until he can fully bring your soul back from the other side.

❥︎ yandere! Villain who swears on vengeance to the hero and promised himself to properly protect you from everything including himself from then on.

❥︎ "I promise y/n. I'll save you and we'll get to know each other properly this time. When the time comes, I'll let you punish me for hurting you and I'll keep you safe from everything including me."