#He was said to be a real quite and reserved child compared to how he is now

[yanderes-galore]

Anon couldn't be here for the request period so I reserved two requests for them, this is their second one

Anon Said: "With “Dittophobia” generating renewed interest in FNAF 4, how about we revisit the nightmare animatronics a bit? Could we get some rivalry headcanons between Nightmare Bonnie and Nightmare Chica? I want to see some nightmares throwing hands (or claws in this case)."

A/N: Sure! This is based off the small behavior talk I did a long time ago! Been awhile since I've written for the Nightmares and I'm excited for this!

Yandere! Nightmare Bonnie vs Yandere! Nightmare Chica

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Biting, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Blood, Cannibalism mentioned, Stalking, Violence, Kidnapping implied, Supernatural forces, Mentions of death.

When it comes to the Nightmares I'm pulling from other works I've done.

Both Bonnie and Chica, they're cruel, sadistic, and crave attention.

You need to pay attention to their presence or you could get hurt, right?

Plus, I'd write these two similarly to how I wrote Nightmare Fredbear and Freddy in the past.

How I tend to write the Nightmares is they're demons.

Which would mean you have strange anthropomorphic mechanical animals haunting you.

I've said in the past they take a twisted form based on things from their target's past.

This would imply you've been to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza at least once in your lifetime.

It would only be better if you were fond of Bonnie and Chica as a young child.

When you could have first encountered these demons can vary.

Maybe similar to the Fredbear fic I've done in the past they were masquerading as your imaginary friends?

Since you were young and you came home from Freddy Fazbear's, you were always greeted by a large bunny and chicken.

Maybe when you were younger you never saw them as demons.

With your childish mind you only ever saw your friends from Freddy's.

Perhaps here they play nice, although often argue about your attention.

Play more with the bunny and the chicken appears jealous that you care more for the bunny's songs.

Play more with the chicken or eat her food she made for you and the bunny appears irritable.

It's then you meet them again as an adult.

Only to learn they aren't quite imaginary.

It's this or you meet them as an adult with no prior knowledge about them as a child.

However I feel them originally being your imaginary friends is the best case scenario.

Unless you want something similar to the Nightmare Freddy fic I did where you're babysitting a kid they are haunting.

Either way, this Bonnie and Chica are much different from their usual counterparts.

Not only in appearance either.

Bonnie still wants attention, especially from his favorite human...

He just hopes you don't mind his games getting a little violent or his music haunting your ears.

Chica also wants your attention, to the point she craves it like a meal.

The demonic chicken even still makes, she just hopes you don't mind if she puts a bit of blood in her cakes.

Maybe it could even be yours, she bets it will taste amazing.

As expected, both of them like the idea of biting you to get a taste of you.

Chica seems a bit too fixated on it.

They're demons, demonic creatures that happen to be haunting your home.

In the corner of your eyes at night you'll see them slink back into the shadows.

Maybe you'll even see the small cupcake Chica sends to watch you.

Both of them would be possessive as they're territorial.

They wants to be your tormentors but they want to do it alone.

Since they've known you it's always been one or the other.

Bonnie tries to lure you in with songs written just for you, a twisted form of mimicry compared to the real Bonnie.

Meanwhile Chica tries to lure you to her with meals she mysteriously prepared in your kitchen.

Everything from pizza to cakes, the smell wafts through rooms and into your nose.

Yet it's all strangely metallic smelling when you look past the tasty smells.

Don't be fooled, when either of them get you close, they'll dig their claws into your flesh and claim you as theirs.

They yearn to bond to you, lapping at your wounds to devour you like prey.

They're monsters, way worse than just nightmares.

Unlike nightmares... you can't escape their terror by waking up.

This is reality.

The haunting songs and smells don't stop.

You can't do anything but hide in your room as the two fight.

They pounce at each other, clawing and growling like wild animals when not trying to lure you to them.

The smell of brimstone pierces your nose as mechanical clicks and clangs rings through your ears.

Being demons, they're immortal.

However, you are not, you are merely mortal.

One of them will take you and your soul by force if they have to.

Sure, hold them off as long as you can.

Soon you'll give into one of them

The question is which one?

Will you follow the bunny's songs and be lured in like a siren?

Or will you follow the scent of food the chicken made like a rat to a trap?

The two could battle it out for seemingly forever...

But you'll fall victim to them at any moment in your life, as they'll follow you and fight until the day you rot just to take you away.

Only then could their quarreling simmer down... and that isn't even guaranteed.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 4 #yandere nightmare animatronics #yandere nightmare bonnie #yandere nightmare chica

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

[Sensitive] Let's Talk RP and Mental Illness

//Hello hello, Saru-mun here to post a lil disclaimer that I felt to be due on my blog for quite some time now.

Let me preface all this by saying that yours truly has past and present long-lived experiences with mental illness, as someone affected directly by it and even indirectly when co-existing with others affected by it. Nothing in this post comes from a place of ignorance, intolerance, or even indifference to it.

I've always been a reserved person when it comes to my personal mental health. Oversharing and "trauma-dumping" have put a stigma on being overly open about these things, and I for one loathe the idea of being labeled as the person "playing the victim card". That said, I'm happy to find that this personal choice of mine does not reflect in my writing and roleplay. I like to write on these topics and explore their intricate and deep thematics like most other people here.

With THAT said as well however, I am also someone who puts a priority on realism before all else.

We live in a very lucky time for mental health awareness. Psychology studies have made leaps and bounds and uncovered, identified and explained many aspects of mental illness that I still remember being completely misunderstood and unheard of when I was a child. I think it is great and am thankful for this progress.

This however is due to the world we live in and the many advancements research has made over the years. This is a factor that I am never unaware of and that I am unwilling to cheapen by pretending it's to be given for granted.

What does it mean exactly? It means that when writing in settings that do not match our present-day progress, I will keep that in mind and have my muses match the emotional intelligence and knowledge that I would expect to be average in the world and universe they live in.

You probably should not expect Cyno the desert-dweller with a degree in elemental studies to know much about things like autism, PTSD, identity disorders or depression. The world he belongs to simply does not reflect that degree of awareness towards these conditions and as such, characters that belong in it should not be expected to understand them like we do in real life.

What should you expect? Ignorance and the mistakes born from it. Expect him to think your muse with executive dysfunction is lazy. To point out smell and filth if they are not able to keep up with their hygiene. Expect him to be confused by things like panic attacks, or to not understand one's deep-rooted anxieties.

In fact, Cyno himself has some degree of mental health problems that he is completely unaware of. And I've made him this way on purpose, because I remember the way I behaved about my own mental illness when I lived in a time where it was poorly understood. I downplayed it to personal flaws of mine that I should overcome.

You should expect this from any of my muses who live in a universe that is not as advanced as our real lifetime. My Mystic Messenger characters for example are more likely to be aware of these issues compared to, say, my Japanese feudal era demon lord character.

Why have I decided to go this route? Because I think mental health is important, and so is its history. I do not like the idea of pretending that the problems surrounding it and our understanding of mental illness never existed. These are stories that truly happened, and I want my readers to remember this, because it is by its mistakes that humankind has learned to be better. I want the ignorance of my muses to be a lesson, and a warning.

With that out of the way, I am making this post because the last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable. If you think something like a negative or indifferent reaction to your muse's mental illness might be something too insensitive for you to handle, then please, please please refrain from bringing these topics to the table with my muses.

You can talk to me OOCly if you're unsure how my muses would respond to these topics as well. I don't like breaking character (or what I perceive to be in-character for my muse anyway), but I am open to discussion and compromise on the language used in my responses if it will help you be comfortable with my portrayal more. A solution can almost always be found.

This turned stupid long already, so I'll be back to draft mountain now. You be good and stay off my soda.

Saru-mun\\

#00a || saru-mun is still alive! [ooc] #cw: mental illness mention

[vivvyinvienna]

Dad!Draco admiring you with the baby and toddler

baby, baby (draco malfoy)

A/N: heyo! Back again w Dad!Draco, who i am an absolute sucker for. I had to google “how to play with a baby” before writing bc i don’t rly understand children. To the nonny who requested, i hope you enjoy xoxo

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Dad!Draco has to take a couple of sick days from work but that also means he gets to spend more time with his beloved family. Fluff :))

Warnings: unedited, baby scorp cuteness, mentions of pregnancy, stomach flu?

----------

When Draco started rousing from his nap, it was already late in the afternoon. His body’s natural inclination to turn towards his wife took over despite his still dozing mind. After being married to Y/N for seven years and sleeping in the same bed for even longer, every time he woke up Draco felt this physical yearning for the warmth and intimacy that only being intertwined with her could provide. But today, he was disappointed. The cold sheets to his left brought him fully out of his sleep-induced haze.

Once Draco was fully awake, he used the bearing magic that was embedded into the intricate blood wards of their family home to locate his wife and child. It only took a second before he knew that Y/N and Scorpius were in the living room. Normally he wasn’t one to nap for hours while making his wife be solely responsible for their son, but Draco was still recovering from an exceptionally brutal stomach flu. He had stayed home from work for the last three days, trading his job at Malfoy Inc for saltine crackers, stomach cramps, heating pads, and an overzealous number of bathroom trips.

He stood up from the bed and padded out of the room in search of his family. When he neared the entrance of the rosy-tinted living room, he was graced by the sound of his child giggling and his wife idly talking. Standing in the doorway, he breathed in the sight of the two people who he loved with every inch of his battered heart. The floor-length French windows were slightly ajar, letting in the breeze of summer and the scent of peaches. The sunset coming in painted the room with the blush of a rose petal and the bloom of sedation. 

You were sitting on the creme-colored couch, bouncing Scorpius on your knees. He had just turned one-year-old a couple of weeks ago, and already he was starting to lose some of his chunky baby fat which you and Draco both adored. But he was still the cutest baby in your eyes, with or without his chubby baby legs. With his cherub cheeks, bright eyes, and wispy tufts of the distinct Malfoy hair, no other baby could compare. You sat with your back facing the doorway, so you didn’t notice Draco until Scorpius started squirming away from you and let out a very enthusiastic “Da! Dada!” 

Draco let out a jovial laugh when he saw the big toothy grin on his son’s face. He immediately held out his arms to steal Scorp from his mother. 

“Hey buddy!” Draco responded to him with the same amount of energy. “What have you been up to today?” He talked to Scorp like an adult, treating his noises as real answers. 

Scorpius babbled. 

“Oh really? You know, I took a pretty good nap too today.”

More babbling. 

“Well, why don’t we go to the pond tomorrow?”

Scorpius continued.

“Of course buddy, it’ll be warm out tomorrow.”

He moved to sit down next to you, giving you a pillowy kiss and wrapping the arm that wasn’t holding a toddler around you. Draco couldn’t help but stare. The fading sunshine glowed upon you with romantic affection. You were ethereal to him. He looked at you the way every girl dreamed of being looked at. And the depth of his eyes held promises. Promises that there was no one in the world he would rather see and be with than you. 

“Hey mama,” his soft words reverberated with the utmost tenderness.

This time you leaned over to kiss him. As your lips touched his, he felt a murmur of enchantment somewhere in his body. It felt a bit like healing and a bit like elation, but he was too peaceful to bother pinpointing. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart? Is your stomach still hurting?” you were still concerned over his health despite him looking much better than before he went to nap. 

“I feel better, I think it’s run its course,” he answered matter-a-factly. 

Your conversation remained brief because Scorpius let out a whine. Probably because neither of his parents was giving him attention.

You turned your attention to your son. You danced your fingers on his cheeks, making him let out a precious giggle. As Draco watched, he felt the bells of sunshine ring in his heart, a feeling only explicable by the child in his arms and wife at his side. 

The two of you moved to the floor of the couch and continued to play with Scorp. It wasn’t before long though when he decided that his favorite ferret stuffed animal was more entertaining than his parents and crawled away to play with it. With Scorp occupied, Draco decided this was the perfect time to talk to you about something he’d been ruminating over.

“I have something to talk to you about,” he started. 

You took in an over-exaggerated gasp, “Are you breaking up with me?” you said with no real distress. 

He went along with you, “That’s actually the second thing I want to talk to you about.”

“Ok well, what’s the first?”

He took in a deep breath, as if slightly nervous. “I think I want to step down from Malfoy Inc for a little while and spend more time at home with you two.” 

You turned to fully face him. You were elated at the possibility but a bit hesitant in case he hadn’t fully thought it through yet.

“I’d love to have you home more, I’m sure Scorp does too,” you paused, “but you love your job.”

“But I love you guys more. A lot more actually,” there was no wavering in his affirmation. 

“You won’t get bored being at home all day?” you pushed a bit more. 

“I was planning on picking up some of my old alchemy projects. And you remember all the notebooks Severus left me?” 

You did.

“I think it’d be good to finish some of his potions research.”

You agreed. 

“I’ve honestly been thinking about stepping down for a while and being at home these last three days just really reminded me of how much I miss every day. He’s growing up so fast. And I miss being home with you and Scorp.”

“I miss having you home too, I miss you all the time.” You almost laughed at how clingy you sounded. “So if you want to step down, I won’t be the one to stop you.”

He gave you that smile, the one that was reserved only for you. “I guess I’m quitting my job,” he sounded nonchalant but the excitement was obvious in the smile lines of his eyes. 

“One stomach flu and you’re ready to quit your job. I’d hate to see what a migraine does to you,” you teased.

“Shut up,” he feigned offense. “Merlin, Y/N I threw up so much I finally understand how you felt when you were pregnant.”

You gave him a questionable look. “For some reason, I doubt it.” The room filled with Draco’s laughter again. 

“Speaking of pregnancy…” he shifted closer to you, slowly gliding his large hand onto your belly. “I want to put another baby in here.”

“You are just full of ideas today.” He was about to open his mouth to persuade you further, when you continued, “But I can’t say that’s a bad one.”

A boyish grin took his face. 

Then, taking you both by surprise, a loud grumble came from Draco’s midsection. You both stilled and looked at each other for a couple of seconds before he groaned and started whining. Pulling his hand away from your belly, he moved to cradle his own. And you laughed, you laughed an absurd, charming little laugh because you couldn’t get over how Draco’s whining sounded exactly like Scorpius’.

#draco x you #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fluff #draco fluff #dad!draco #draco x y/n #draco x reader #hogwarts #scorpius #malfoy #harry potter #draco smut #draco malfoy headcanon #draco imagine

[illumilu]

“there’s only one bed” - chrollo lucilfer x reader

a/n: a very stereotypical cliche for fanfics, but, yk what? cringe is heavily underappreciated. so here, have my drabbling of what would happen if you were to spend an unwanted night in the same hotel bed as the adultrio. for the last part, we’re taking a look at chrollo lucilfer! also! this may suck!

summary: you arrive at the hotel with chrollo, your childhood friend and colleague, but to your horror (wink wink), there’s only one bed. this is part three of a three-part series, with the adultrio. hisoka and illumi are already written so i suppose that concludes the series!

warnings: no particular trigger warnings, lowercase intended, a lot of fluff! and cuddling! chrollo being his usual self, charming but kinda dead ,,, except this time he’s not using you (cough neon nostrade) ... no nsfw :)

chrollo lucilfer:

- chrollo lucilfer was an undeniably enticing man.

- you two had just exited the train station, and were now walking to your hotel. 

- why had this trip been planned? well, chrollo had bought reservations, claiming he “had something private to say” one night. honestly, he made you nervous sometimes. just what you expected from the leader of an internationally renowned murder gang.

- the refreshing cold air chilled your face, as you walked along the damp pavement. the large, multistory hotel loomed in the distance, like an upright torch in a sea of gray. you turned to look at chrollo. 

- “it’s cold, isn’t it?” 

- “astounding observation.” he smiled audaciously.

- growing up alongside them hadn’t been easy for you; after all, meteor city was dilapidated. after leaving the place, you had found the estimated population to be around 8 million people. funnily enough, it had never felt like that many.

- you still remembered the day chrollo had formed the phantom troupe. you had watched as he set out the rules standing proudly on the trash-pile; as he described the metaphorical spider and its immortality. 

- personally, you hated spiders. too many legs.

- either way, you stayed there, listening, observing - you had seen them running around the city before, laughing and playing together. how could people be so happy in such an obscure place? 

- meteor city; it was almost... suffocating. the fact that no one acknowledged the residents, even as a collective percentage, chilled you to your core. you wanted to be known. you guessed that was why you were still alongside chrollo today.

- you supposed the only way to get through the maddening sense of compression was with friendship. alas, you didn’t really have many friends. it was always hard to find them. therefore, you would check to see what chrollo’s group were doing together, but would never join unless invited.

- that fateful night, the ignition of the troupe; truly a day to remember. 

- as soon as you had turned around from behind some abandoned trash, chrollo had slowly turned to look at you. you had been listening as he mused about the phantom troupe’s intentions. he had personally seen you around the junkyard many times. always watching. waiting for something? no, just observing. here you were, eyes on him, yet again.

- a pause. you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. but it wasn’t humiliating; it was exhilarating. 

- you still remembered the way you had cursed yourself for thinking like that. why had you come out from your hiding place? you didn’t want anything to do with this group; killing people, stealing things, wandering astray from the path of morality... what was this?

- “did you hear everything?” he had asked.

- “yes.” you whispered.

- your eyes lifted to meet his. you knew almost nothing of where that day would eventually lead you. you shared a long stare that night, almost childish, waiting for him to say something. you could swear his eyes were boring into your soul.

- “you don’t want to join, do you?”

- you gulped and looked at the dirt beneath you.

- “no.”

- things had changed since then.

- you had never did end up joining the phantom troupe. it was too chaotic for you. but, you did end up sticking around and, somehow, you came to know each of the troupe members extremely well.

- whenever they’d rendezvous and cause destruction, you’d always be there, observing from the sidelines. chrollo liked to call it your “unofficial bond”. having spent a lot of your time with the interchanging 13, you knew their likes and dislikes, and often helped them out when they couldn’t get information. for some reason, you felt as if chrollo trusted you with this greatly. 

- rarely, you got to spend time with him alone. you two were undoubtedly closer than any other pairs from the troupe, yet it was more of an unspoken connection than a full-blown one. compared to, let’s say, nobunaga and uvogin, and no one would have even speculated chrollo and you being as close.

- nevertheless, you loved when you got to spend time with him; whenever he loosened his idiotic “i’m the leader and we’re going to kill hundreds of people now!” demeanor, he was actually quite the gentleman. 

- back to the present, you scoffed and continued walking; each breath made a little cloud in front of you, making you grin a little. when you were younger, you had always pretended to smoke whenever it was cold enough for it to happen.

- “you’re such a child.” chrollo said, adjusting his beige headband. you often wondered why he decided to get a tattoo on his forehead. troupe matters, you supposed. finally reaching the grand entrance to the hotel, chrollo pushed the gold revolving door, with an ironic “after you” look. you went through hastily, raising an eyebrow at him on the way in.

- the lobby was truly extravagant, full of grandeur that you had never seen before. you could only begin to fathom how much money the troupe got from stealing. 

- honestly, you really felt like smacking chrollo. what right did he have to take you to such a huge place? with his own laundered money? that he probably earned from making someone else’s life hell? you opened your mouth to protest. he promptly interrupted you.

- “be quiet, y/n. you know have money to spend, so why shouldn’t i spend it on you? just this once?”

- that was a lie. he knew he would definitely do something like this again.

- your mouth closed, knowing the same thing. you sighed momentarily and went off to sit on a weirdly smooth velvet couch in the lobby.

- while absentmindedly checking in, chrollo began thinking about what exactly he was going to say to you. truthfully, there was no real reason for him bringing you here, to the hotel. it was just, lately, he had been feeling strangely drawn to you. you had a certain warm magnetism that contrasted his philosophical coldness. whenever you sat together, he felt some sort of strange exaltation, just by looking at you. whenever you smiled, he couldn’t help but smile back. he had also become considerably happier.

- “wow, boss~ you seem jokier these days~”

- the thought of hisoka made him wince, driving him back to the clerk in front of him. 

- as he stared back at you, who was currently trying to figure out whether you could take the hotel magazines for free, he closed his eyes and let out a light breath. 

- you jolted as chrollo stood before you, tapping you on the shoulder. loosening your grip on the cheap magazine, you glared at him. 

- “keys.” he said, dangling them above you.

- “chrollo. don’t tell anyone. but i think have a plan.” 

- “what? y/n, y-”

- you grinned, grabbed the keys and started towards the stair doors, yanking chrollo’s sleeve along with you. he ran behind you, making quite the commotion as you two thundered up the switchback stairs, shoes scuffing along the floor. through ragged breaths and giggles, he asked you why in god’s name you were going so fast.

- stopping abruptly to catch your breath, you told him to look at your hands, with an impish look on your face.

- the hotel magazine, crumpled in your hands.

- he furrowed his brow at you, laughing confusedly at your antics. you often helped him unwind with your spontaneous, stupid acts, and he was grateful for it. chrollo was someone who didn’t recognize how much they needed a break until they got one. he truly enjoyed how you just treated him as a normal person. since you weren’t part of the troupe, he wasn’t your “boss”. he supposed he was your... friend.

- you slowly made your way up to the room with him. despite him being unnervingly annoying sometimes, you enjoyed every moment with chrollo. every look you shared with him, every joke you had made.

-  even when he was being serious you couldn’t help but admire his twisted resolve. often, you’d brush hands and sparks of ecstasy would rush to your heart. you guessed that was what happened when people were close. but what was “close”? you often found yourself mulling over the classifications of love, even if it wasn’t specifically about him. of course, you could love someone as a friend; what was romance, anyways?

- if there was one thing you had in common with chrollo, it was your interest in human emotion.

- chrollo had always been fascinated by the human psyche; so much so that it seemed like he knew what people were about to say before they even uttered a word. he too found himself musing over love; occasionally, you two would sit together and debate where each emotion stemmed from.

- however, no matter how equal you were, chrollo could always predict what you were about to say, never vice versa. he chalked it down to knowledge and experience, yet he found it ironic that emotions were his interest. he speculated the reason for it, and once, very wisely, said that “humans are always interested in what they do not have.”

- you reached the room fairly quickly, roused from the race up the stairs. half of you had already forgotten about what chrollo “wanted to tell you”; he opened the door and walked in first.

- “hey, wait out here for a second, i have a surprise.” he said, closing the door so it was only jarred open a little.

- nodding, you turned around, waiting in the lit hallway.

- chrollo turned to look at the room.

- wait.

- shit.

- a singular queen-sized bed stood in the middle of the room. 

- chrollo blinked.

- he could have sworn he asked for two twin beds. blinking a few more times, beginning to sweat a little, he jolted as your voice came from the door; “chrollo, is it ready?”

- “no, not yet, stay there!” he shouted, pacing towards the hotel phone, frantically dialling room service.

- “hello?”

- “good evening. how may we help you?”

- “yeah, uh, so you see, i’m in room 444 and i definitely, most certainly booked two beds, not one - would you mind checking?”

- “no problem! it says here that you booked one queen sized bed, with two reservations. are you sure you didn’t misclick? perhaps the room was booked by someone else?”

- suddenly, chrollo remembered; shalnark did all his computer work. that bloody, meddling... no, he shouldn’t say that. he had nothing but gratitude for all the troupe members. some were very, very, very difficult to like, however.

- “are there any spare rooms around?”

- “yes, of course! but moving will cost around-”

- “chrollo?” you interrupted, peeking around the doorframe. 

- you blinked. 

- the bed was... larger... and more... singular than expected.

- “y/n! there’s been a mistake... just; bear with me, okay? everything will be fine. i just need to pay a-”

- darting to where he was, you grabbed the phone and slammed it back onto the receiver. you grabbed chrollo by the shoulders, shaking him violently (rather dramatically, too).

- “what do you think you’re doing? i tell you to stop spending money on me, and here you are, spending the money you got from murdering people?” 

- you did not like the idea of sleeping in the same bed as chrollo one bit. however, you hated the idea of having him use his dark money on you way more. here he was, about to spend it on a simple matter. the persistent bastard.

- “whatever you say.” he murmured.

- “look, just think of it as a fun sleepover. no need for things to be awkward.”

- you were right. nothing would happen. childish as you were together, both of you knew boundaries. despite the recent appeal you had to him, he knew that your comfort was more important than anything.

- both agreeing to get some sleep, you changed into more comfy clothes and met back at the bed. 

- something you often overlooked was how pretty chrollo was. grayish-brown pupils that, to the gullible eye, seemed neutral and boring, but to you seemed like a world of wonder and speculation. his eyelashes seemed almost delicate, unaware of how beautiful they were. his lips always looked cold, with a reddish tinge, yet somehow fit harmoniously with the rest of his features. it was no secret that his muscles were extremely defined, as you had seen whenever he wore his coat. somehow, his skin was smooth and pale all over, not comparable to porcelain, but better; it had the duality to glow with pride or to appear a solemn gray. his hands were almost never without a book, yet when they were occupied with something else, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his elegant fingers. his hair, admittedly odd when slicked back, wisped across his face, fluffy as always. your eyes riveted on his.

- “what did you want to tell me?”

- shit. in the heat of all the issues, he had forgotten to think of something.

- what did he want to tell you? everything about himself, honestly. who he was, what he wished to do, his own personality, his philosophies. the dilemma was, he did not know himself. 

- who am i?

- the pressing question that bugged him so, that tugged at his sleeve like a child he wished he could ignore. the word that fit chrollo best was, “enigma”. he truly wanted to find himself, but what did that even mean? he spent his life growing from nothing, becoming nothing and, despite having the largest reputation in the world, still feeling like nothing. yet, it was something that was locked within you that opened him. the buzz of emotion he had felt from you; that had been something. pride and happiness were good, all in all, but you defined him. you gave him something to live for. of course, chrollo still stood by death as if it was an old companion, but some tiny part of him would feel remorse if he ever died. remorse for leaving you behind. that had never happened with anyone else. the closer he became to you, the more he had a meaning. he contemplated; were you his meaning? two souls meant to be intertwined? 

- “y/n.”

- “hm?”

- “love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; and therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. do you know who wrote this?”

- a silence met the air.

- “it was william shakespeare. a midsummer night’s dream.” he continued. “yet i wonder, what would one do if they had no mind? if love looks with the mind, yet had nowhere to look from, how would it see?”

- somewhere within you, you sensed he was talking about something very relevant. 

- love would find a way. it would shoot from every outlet it could, from one soul to another; love would find a way to reach someone. conscienceless or aware, love would perpetuate through every single molecule left in someone’s resolve. two ribbons that were meant to find each other would undoubtedly find each other if they their love was strong enough. that is what you thought as you sat there with him, mutually mulling over the question.

- “i think it would find a way, wouldn’t it?” you said.

- “probably so.”

- “that was random, chrollo?” you questioned after a few still moments.

- “i suppose so... i miss times where we talked about the philosophies of the mind.”

- you nodded. you missed them too, even though they were frequent. you yawned tiredly; it was getting late. chrollo advised you to get some rest, which you quickly heeded. slowly, you headed to the left side of the bed. he took the right.

- “do you mind if i turn off the light?”

- “i think i’ll read for a while.” he smiled. typical.

- you turned to your side, dreams of the awaiting night already outstretching their comforting arms. eventually, you slipped into a peaceful sleep.

- chrollo cocked his head to the side to look at you. he watched your chest rise and fall for a few seconds, before promptly returning to his book. 1984 by george orwell. his eyes skimmed over the page, blurred names and metaphors flying indifferently past his eyes; he wished to find the quote that resonated with him every time he had previously read it.

- bingo. 

- “if you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love.”

- chrollo had everything to give to you; yet you did not enjoy any of it. he found that you seemed happiest when you just sat together with him, ruminating, or joking or just sitting there in silence. perhaps the only thing he hadn’t tried was the simplest; the most human. maybe the answer to his infatuation with you was right in front of him.

- a few minutes later, he thought it would be best to sleep. closing the lights, he lay there quietly, falling into a passage of thoughts that soon turned sleepy and incoherent.

- the night passed.

- when morning came, things, once again, were different. 

- chrollo was the first to wake up; fluttering his eyelashes, he soon became fully aware of his situation.

- he was on the other side of the bed.

- something was clinging to him.

- chrollo was clinging back.

- oh my god. he felt your arm wrapped low around his waist, with his doing the exact same around yours. almost like... you were mirroring each other. it was like you were hugging, except, when he looked down, you were still fast asleep. 

- shit. this was weird.

- what did he do? he couldn’t just wake you up and cause a commotion; it was him who had thought “nothing would happen”.

- so much for a goddamned “sleepover”.

- your head was buried in the crook of his chin, so you were cuddling into his chest; the bed had been long enough for you to shuffle down and start hugging him? not to mention, somewhere in the night, you had entirely switched places.

- he couldn’t exactly get up to roll you away, either.

- what a conundrum. silently and rather awkwardly, he waited, still embracing you. this definitely made things exponentially more complicated than they needed to be. 

- after around 10 minutes of waiting, you began to stir a little. 

- blinking a few times to clear your vision, you murmured something unintelligible.

- chrollo, about to pull the biggest bastard move of the century, shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.

- what a jackass.

- pushing away from his body, you stared at him, taking a few moments to register the situation.

- and so, your internal panic monologue began, rapid as ever.

- why the SHIT were you in chrollo’s arms not less than 5 seconds ago? and why had it felt undeniably cosy??? did you hug him? did he hug you? of course he was still sleeping. maybe he wouldn’t get to know. why were you on the other side of the bed? did anything happen? no, you would have remembered. you couldn’t roll him over, either. what the shit. 

- chrollo inconspicuously pretended to wake up, theatrical fake blinking and all. 

- “oh.” he stated blankly.

- you scrunched your face; that was the only thing he could say? meanwhile your soul was rapidly disintegrating?

- “chrollo, i have no idea how that-”

- “certainly interesting.” he interrupted.

- the best decision was to leave it. right?

- “huh? what? looooook... i think i’m going to go change...” you said, suppressing your fluctuating heartbeat. 

- chrollo sat up, nodding.

- as you left, you began speculating what to do; because you definitely couldn’t ignore this. when you woke up, you had felt safer, more comfortable. why was that? as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t drop the feeling that chrollo and you were something more than friends.

- chrollo, still on the bed, mulled over the various quotes and lines he had picked up. he ruminated over fond memories with you, and that buzzing feeling from earlier. he noticed it had skyrocketed. he felt... meaningful. bottling up his feelings wouldn’t do any good, would it? he had to say something. but it was dangerous. getting into matters like this may get in the way of the troupe. was it worth it? somewhere, he felt as if he already knew. this matter wasn’t exactly trivial. so, would he do it or not?

- subconsciously reaching for 1984 once more, he flicked past the cover and turned to a well-loved page of his. 

- “at the sight of the words, “i love you”, the desire to stay alive had welled up in him, and the taking of minor risks suddenly seemed stupid.”

- as people usually do at urgent times such as these, he realized what had to be done.

- let’s just say; chrollo’s library began to harbor a lot more romance.

dear reader, i sincerely sincerely apologize if ur here rn. i wrote a wholeass 3554 words and i dont want people wasting their time LMFAO, this was so dumb?? i am SO SO sorry for being inactive for weeks, i’ve had exams, but i kind of felt obligated to finish off this series. which once again. i am so sorry for. this one felt even MORE tedious than the illumi one. i feel like the characterization was poor, even though i tried  ,,, but i guess we all take Ls. i’m gonna just let this one be chalked down to my sleep deprivation and hopefully(?) continue writing. thx <3  

either way, likes or reblogs or whatever are super appreciated, but don’t feel forced to or anything! either way, i feel like no one’s gonna see this with my reach LMAOO but anyways thank you for reading, if you made it here! feedback and tips for writing on here are always helpful :)

#hxh #hunterxhunter #hunter x hunter #hxh 2011 #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #fanfiction #anime #shounen #chrollo headcanons #drabble #hxh hcs #fanfics #chrollo hcs #hunter x hunter headcanons #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter 2011 #chrollo lucilfer x reader #fluff #anime fanfictions #hxh oneshots #hunter x hunter oneshots #anime oneshots #illumi #hisoka #i am so sorry it's all over now #if you're reading this #hey #how you doing

[xjoonchildx]

guilty | knj x reader | chapter two: incheon mall tube tops

summary: as the man at the top, kim namjoon has almost everything he wants. almost. could a familiar face from the past change his future?

pairing: namjoon x reader

genre: mafia AU, pining, eventual smut

rating: 18+

word count: 4.5K

notes: i really hope you guys are enjoying namjoon’s story! i think there will only be one more chapter after this.  and like a true unfocused writer i started daydreaming about a yoongi one-shot to go with it? gah, nevermind.  i really hope you guys like this and i’d love to hear how you feel one way or another.  a huge thanks to my amazing beta @hobi-gif​ who does a hell of a lot more than just find typos.  and all of my love has to go out to @ladyartemesia​ @ppersonna​ @taetaewonderland​ because all three of you are so much more than tumblr friends.

this fic is a continuation of the Guarded Series but can be read as a standalone piece.

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | Epilogue

**********************

It didn’t matter how hard you tried to hide your sadness, Namjoon saw it.

It didn’t matter how many hushed calls you tried to sneak, or how many smiles you tried to force -- Namjoon saw right through your act from the very beginning.  He’d seen enough to know that you were facing some kind of personal battle. He understood enough about you to know that you were far too private to bring it up or ask for help.

He should have asked.

The question sat heavy on the tip of his tongue for weeks.  He should have asked on the days he would spot you at your desk, fingers pressed to your temples in frustration.  Or on the days when he would catch you staring out the window, mind a million miles away.

He didn’t.

Instead, he let himself be driven to distraction by the way your blouses fit perfectly against the lines of your body. The way your pencil skirts hugged the curve of your hips. How soft your hair looked pulled into the low, loose knot you favored.

He found himself stumbling over his words when you’d quietly slip into meetings to deliver an urgent message or he’d drift off in the middle of conversations just because he’d caught sight of you outside his office door.

So it wasn’t long before what started as a preoccupation turned into a full-blown fixation.

You’d turn up at his request, poised and professional as always -- and he’d be lost in thought, defiling you a thousand different ways in his head.  Fantasizing about getting his hands on you, his mouth on you, his teeth on you.

You didn’t deserve that.

That’s why Namjoon kept his mouth shut -- stuck in a maddening cycle of wanting to help you, wanting to know you, just wanting you.

All of it made him feel guilty as hell.

*********************

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

Namjoon has yet to figure out how she manages to be underfoot at the most inconvenient times and simultaneously nowhere to be found when she’s needed.  She misplaces files and misses calls and forgets assigned tasks altogether. He’s lost track of the number of times he’s passed her desk to find her taking pictures of herself; lips pouted, angle skewed.

Two weeks ago, she was probably selling tube tops at Incheon Mall and now she’s playing gatekeeper to one of the most powerful men in Seoul.  So it’s not her fault that she’s woefully unprepared for this job.

And it’s not her fault that she’s not you.

Namjoon has spent the better part of the morning debating the call he’s about to make, picking up the phone and setting it back down at least half a dozen times.  But he’s at the end of his rope, running out of patience and options.

So he swallows his pride and picks up the phone just one more time.  

You answer on the first ring.

“Mister Kim.”

God, he’s missed the sound of your voice.  

“Good morning,” he starts carefully, clearing his throat. “I’m certain you have a lot on your plate but I was wondering if you could come sit with the new girl for a few minutes.  She’s struggling a bit.”  

The line is quiet for a moment and Namjoon can practically hear your thoughts on the other end of the line.  The ones that say well that’s what you get for replacing your perfectly competent assistant with a child.

“I left notes,” is the quiet reply that comes instead.

“You did.”

“Detailed notes. Written, detailed notes.”

“Yes,” Namjoon agrees, rubbing his fingers across his mouth.  “I’m certain they were quite detailed.  It’s just that she’s having trouble following those notes because --”  

“Because she can’t read?”

Namjoon cringes.  Any small hope he had that you weren’t taking your reassignment personally dies with the abrupt delivery of that statement.

“Apparently not,” he admits lamely.

He hears the quiet sigh you take in before answering.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

*************************

There’s a moment -- just after Seokjin has walked through his office door -- when Namjoon catches a glimpse of you.

You are leaned over the new girl’s desk, lips pursed, pointing something out on the computer screen.  Namjoon freezes when you look up and lock eyes with him just as the door swings shut.

Christ, is he ever going to be able to look at you without feeling like he’s had the wind knocked out of him?

He turns to find Seokjin staring at him, one brow raised.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon exhales, shoving a hand through his hair as he walks back to his desk.  “I’m fine. You said you wanted to talk about something?”

“I do,” Seokjin starts, helping himself to a seat. “Two things, actually. Both pertaining to the amazing new assistant you so generously gifted me.”

Namjoon’s nails dig into the palm of his hand.

“Go on.”

“Apparently she’s some kind of whiz with numbers,” Seokjin continues, unbothered by his strained response.  “I gave her a few of the books to look over and she already found a couple of our guys in the Songpa district skimming off the top. I’ll bet there’s even more where that came from and she’ll find it.  She’s got a good eye.”

Namjoon feels pride stir in his chest.  Yet again, you exceed expectations.  

“Send Yoongi and Hoseok to Songpa tonight,” he murmurs.  “I’ll be curious to hear what kind of explanation our friends come up with for their lapses in accounting.”

Seokjin nods.

“Will do.  So the other thing --” he pauses for a beat, like he’s trying to figure out how to carefully deliver what he has to say next.  “I know you asked me to try and figure out what’s going on with her and I think I have.  You’re right, she’s struggling with some personal issues.”

Namjoon leans forward in his chair, body rigid.

“Let me hear it.”

*************************

YOU

The new girl is a fucking disaster.

You have yet to figure out why she can’t work the printers or can’t read a simple spreadsheet when you know for fact she knows how to beam her selfies all the way to the goddamned moon.

It’s infuriating.

Just like it’s infuriating to see her seated at what should be your desk, doing what should be your job, working for the man who should be your boss.  

Figure shit out, you’d love to tell her.  Sink or swim, that’s how the real world works.  

The idea of letting her fail so dismally that Namjoon has no choice but to beg for you back is tempting.  But then he’d picked up the phone to personally ask you to help.

And apparently you are incapable of denying that man anything.

You’ve stayed late every day this week to review the spreadsheets Seokjin has given you to audit because of the extra time you’ve had to put aside to help the new girl navigate foreign concepts like filing and scheduling.

The numbers tell an interesting story.

The rumors about Kim Namjoon’s skill as a businessman don’t give him enough credit.  Money is pouring into the Gajog, hand over fist, from every major district in the city.  Billions of won flow into the organization from legitimate and not as legitimate revenue streams alike.  Combine the numbers and Kim Namjoon controls an empire worth trillions.

You stare at the sums and your mind flips back to your unexpected pay raise. It’s no wonder Namjoon can afford to be so generous.

It’s no wonder so many of the street-level men who work for him seem to be helping themselves to more than their fair share.  

It took you a few days to identify the patterns, comparing the new intake sheets to the old ones, but once you did the missing money practically jumped off the page.  Just a few audits in and you’d already been able to find at least 119 million won unaccounted for.

The Kim Namjoon you know is reserved and unflappable -- but this is information that’s bound to piss even him off.  

What is a man like him like when he’s angry?

You shudder at the thought.

Before long, the night sky stares back at you from the window across from your desk and you decide it’s well past time you went home.  You sort everything into neat piles and leave yourself organized notes before packing up to leave.

***************************

There’s no answer from your mother when you call to her from the hallway.  

You frown as you make your way to her bedroom, worry melting away when you find her asleep in her chair.  Her head is bent at a sharp angle, and you immediately move to help her prop her up.

Her eyes open to slits, unfocused from sleep and medication.

“Ttal,” she whispers, grimacing as she straightens out the crick in her neck.

“Eomma,” you whisper in a hushed rebuke. “We’ve talked about this.  You can’t fall asleep in this chair, it’s terrible for you.”

She nods slowly, pointing to a glass of water on her nightstand.  You hand it to her, but it wobbles in her weak grip and you take hold of it to help her drink before setting it aside.

“I’m hurting tonight,” she admits.  

“I know,” you sigh, heart breaking. “Come, let me help you into bed.”

The process is painstaking.  You help hoist her frail frame out of the chair and over to the side of the bed then work carefully to help her lie back.  There’s no meat on her anymore, just skin and bones, so you tuck her blankets carefully around her legs and arms until you’re certain she’s not shivering anymore.

You know this isn’t working.  

It doesn’t matter how many calls you make over the course of a day to check in, or how many well-meaning neighbors drop in to help, leaving your mother alone for hours in this state is a dangerous gamble.  

You fight back tears of frustration.  You grew up without siblings and your father has been gone for years. Being alone is something you’ve had a long time to get used to.  

But you’ve still never felt as alone as you do right now.

You think in the quiet for a while, stroking your fingers across your mother’s upturned palm, unsure of what to say, unsure of what to do.  

Unsure of what comes next.

“Kim Namjoon grew up to be such a handsome man,” your mother rasps.

The steady stroke of your fingers comes to an abrupt halt as the fine hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end.

“Excuse me?”

Your mother doesn’t repeat herself.

“Eomma,” you urge, nudging her hand with yours.  “What is this talk of Kim Namjoon?”

Her lips quirk when she closes her eyes like she’s recalling a pleasant memory.

“His mother was beautiful,” she breathes quietly. “God smiled on that boy. He looks nothing like his father.”

The dull panic that’s already started to pulse in your chest sharpens to a point.

She has to be hallucinating.  

She has to be taking too much medicine because nothing she’s saying makes any sense.  You fumble for the bottles on her nightstand, pulling off the caps and pouring the pills out onto the tabletop.  You count them over and over until you’re satisfied your mother hasn’t taken a dangerous amount of drugs.

“Eomma, why are you talking about Kim Namjoon?” you plead. “Help me understand.”

But when you look back to your mother, you realize your words are already falling on deaf ears. She’s slipped back into a sleep state once again.

If only it were that easy for you.

When you finally get to crawl into bed a short while later, you toss and turn all night.  

Somewhere in the haze between asleep and awake you dream of Kim Namjoon.

*************************

Your mother’s mental clarity is always better in the morning.  

After she’s had a night of rest -- and whatever medicine she’s taken has had some time to wear off -- she’s much more alert, much more like her old self.  But you still weren’t able to get anything by way of answers out of her as you made breakfast this morning.

You’d made her favorite cold cucumber soup before carefully broaching the subject of last night’s strange conversation.  You’d waited patiently for some kind of explanation about why she mentioned a man she hasn’t spoken of in years.

It didn’t come.

There was something odd about the way your mother went completely quiet at your mention of Namjoon.  Something odd about how adamant she was about not having any memory of the conversation at all.

That odd look on her face is the one thought on your mind as you make your way to work in a complete fog.  You slip into an open elevator and hit the button for your floor on autopilot.

You don’t even realize that you’re not alone until a soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

“I remember you.”

Your eyes flick up from their unseeing stare at your shoes to a young woman standing against the elevator’s back wall.  

“Miss Kim,” you breathe, brushing an errant hair out of your face.  Your cheeks are still stinging from the cold. “Good morning.”

Namjoon’s sister is a beautiful woman, without a doubt — but until this moment, you hadn’t realized how much she resembles her brother.  They have the same striking features, the same smooth skin and high cheekbones and full lips.  

They share the same dark, kind eyes.

“I remember you now,” she repeats, mouth curving into a smile.  “I knew I recognized you, but it wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I finally connected the dots.”

“Well, I wasn’t around a lot when we were kids,” you admit shyly. “So that’s certainly understandable.”

“That’s true,” she agrees.  “And I try not to think back to those times a lot but you made an impression on me.  You were always so sweet.”

Your cold cheeks seem to warm at her compliment.

“Thank you.”

The elevator stops at her floor but she seems reluctant to end the conversation.  She leans against the door to prop it open.

“My brother,” she asks carefully, “Is he treating you well?  Is he a fair boss?”

You clear your throat, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

“Well, he’s not my boss anymore,” you admit.  “He replaced me not long ago.  But yes, he was very fair when I worked for him.”

Her lips part in a soft gesture of surprise when you deliver that news.  

She’s quiet until the elevator blares a loud reminder that it’s time to close the doors.  She smiles at you on her way out the door, opting not to comment on the quality of her brother’s staffing decisions.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmurs. “But I’m still really glad you’re here.”

****************************

An inviting scent is the first thing you notice when you get home that night.  

The second thing you notice are the voices.

You make your way down the long hallway with careful steps, trying to place the sound of the voice coming from your mother’s bedroom.  It doesn’t sound like Mrs. Sim -- in fact, it doesn’t sound like anyone you know.

You stop short at the sight that greets you when you round the corner.

A woman -- a complete stranger is in your mother’s room.

You stand frozen in shock as you watch the stranger read to your mother from her seated position in the chair next to the bed.  She looks up from the page when she realizes you’re there, giving you a better look at her pleasant, aged face.

“Aish,” she startles, clapping a hand over her chest.  “Here I was, worried about scaring you and instead you’re the one giving me a fright.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice.

“Forgive me,” you start weakly, “But who are you?  And how did you get into this house?”

The woman stands to adjust the pillow under your mother’s head before meeting you in the doorway.  “She’s resting now,” she says, nodding at your mother’s still form on the bed.  “Why don’t we talk in the kitchen?”

Should you be screaming right now? Calling the police?  

There’s no good explanation for why you do neither and decide instead to follow this complete stranger into your kitchen instead.  She walks to the stove to stir whatever she has cooking in the pot.

“Get off those feet,” she admonishes kindly. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Again you comply, inexplicably following orders.  

“I made Budae Jjigae,” she explains, ladling some of the stew into a bowl.  She sets it down in front of you, and you stare back at her like an idiot.  The stew smells amazing, and you’re immediately hit with a well-timed hunger pang.

“Who are you?” you ask again.

“My name is Jinjoo,” she replies sweetly, handing you a spoon.  “And I work for you now.”

“You work for me,” you repeat slowly.

“I do,” Jinjoo nods.  “Mister Kim hired me.”

The spoon clatters loudly against the lip of the bowl when you drop it.  For a moment, it’s hard to breathe. You have to wait for the strange sensation that snakes up your spine to subside before you speak again.

“Mister Kim.”  You echo her again, dumbly.

Jinjoo takes a seat next to you at the table, radiating a patient kindness that makes you want to give into the urge to trust her.  She smiles reassuringly at you, voice soothing when she speaks again.

“Yes. He said you needed help with your mother, and I can understand why.  I nursed in hospitals for decades, dear.  I can see your mother is in a bad way.”

You blink back at Jinjoo in stunned silence.

“I assure you, I’ll give your mother the best quality care,” she vows, patting one of your hands with her own.  “And Mister Kim has already paid me well in advance, so don’t even think about trying to get rid of me.”

That statement almost makes you laugh.  

You don’t want to get rid of Jinjoo at all.  Ten minutes ago you had no idea she existed and in the span of one conversation she’s become one of the most important people you know.  Tears well in your eyes as you stare into your bowl of stew, at a total loss for words.  

Jinjoo seems to sense how overwhelmed you are.  She gives you some space to process what’s going on, stroking one soft hand over your shoulder when she stands to leave.

“Eat something, dear.  I’m gonna go sit with your mother for a while.”

You look up at her with watery eyes and nod, reaching for the spoon.

“This smells really good,” you say softly.

“Well, I’m a great cook.  You’ll see,” she promises.

“Jinjoo -- “ you call out after her as she walks away.  “Thank you,” you manage, voice thick with emotion.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

The corners of her eyes crinkle when her mouth curves into a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

**********************

Jinjoo’s stew was delicious -- not that you had the chance to fully appreciate it.  

You’d sat in that kitchen alone for some time, eating slowly while you tried to process yet another bombshell in what seemed to be a series of them.  Everything that’s happened to you since Namjoon reassigned you has been a whirlwind; from the sudden pay raise to the sudden arrival of Jinjoo.

You eat the last of the stew with your stomach in knots.

Namjoon knows your mother is sick.  And you don’t know how to feel about it.

A part of you feels exposed when you think about him uncovering the sad details of your mother’s health battle. But knowing that he stepped in to help you fight it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in years.  

Cared for.

The sound of laughter from your mother’s bedroom echoes down the hall and you stand to follow it.  

Her favorite variety show is playing on the small TV in front of her bed, and it appears Jinjoo is a fan, too.  You lean in the doorway and watch the women giggle at the silly skit.  It’s been a long time since you’ve heard the sound of your mother’s laugh.  

It makes you smile.

“Jinjoo, could you give us a moment, please?”

You almost hate to interrupt the instant camaraderie between the two women but you recognize that your mother is in the midst of a rare moment of clarity.  You have to strike while the iron is hot.

“Of course,” she agrees, standing.

You wait until the sound of her footsteps fades away before taking her place in the worn chair next to your mother’s bed.  Your mother smiles at you, taking one of your hands into her own.  

You squeeze her fingers gently.

“Eomma, no more secrets,” you murmur.  “Tell me the truth.  Did Kim Namjoon come here?”

Your mother swallows thickly before nodding.

“He asked me not to tell you,” she admits.  “He said he didn’t want you to refuse his help.”

You shut your eyes and imagine Namjoon in your home, in this room. Speaking to your mother.  Making plans to send Jinjoo.  Your chest squeezes so tight that for a moment it’s hard to breathe.

“Okay,” you concede quietly.  You maintain the appearance of careful calm because you don’t want to make your mother feel worse than she already does., “It’s alright Eomma, I’m not angry, I promise.”

A peculiar look passes over her face.  Her eyes dart away from yours and that’s all it takes for you to know you don’t have the full story.  You decide to toughen your stance.

“Look at me, Eomma,” you say firmly.  “If there’s anything I don’t know, you need to tell me right now.  I need to know all of it.  Everything.”

“I -- “

“Just tell me what it is,” you repeat, patience hanging by a thread.

Your mother sighs, lifting one weak hand in the direction of her dresser.  You turn to stare at the pile of papers stacked there, realization dawning in an instant.  You move on unsteady legs to walk over and take hold of them.

Radiology, pulmonology, chemotherapy.  

You know exactly how much is owed on each of those bills because the numbers are burned into your mind. Those numbers are the reason you leave your mother for hours on end every day to go to work.  Those numbers are the reason why it’s so hard to sleep at night.

You don’t realize that your hands are shaking until you hear the papers rustling.

Every bill bears the same neat, handwritten marking.

paid -- knj

***************************

NAMJOON

Namjoon watched his sister leave early tonight with Hoseok. Seokjin is out to dinner with his wife.  And Yoongi is off doing -- well, whatever the hell Yoongi does when he’s not around.

There’s no one here tonight to tell Namjoon to go home.  No one to point out that he’s had too much to drink or that it’s happening far too often.

So he pours another scotch.

The glass sweats in his hand as he stands in front of his window, deep in thought.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about the way you struggled in silence, caring for your mother alone -- too proud to ask for help. The way you catered to Namjoon’s every need and whim without ever making mention of yours.  The way he’d let it go on for far too long, selfishly wrapped up in the way you made him feel.

“That girl is going to get you killed.”

Namjoon tells himself the sound of your voice is a figment of his imagination, an entirely predictable side-effect of too much scotch.  But it’s followed quickly by your soft footsteps against the plush carpet in his office and both sounds are too real to ignore.

He turns to assess you, quietly sipping his drink.

Fuck, you are beautiful.  

You have no right turning up here tonight -- looking like that -- testing him when he is at his weakest.  Your dark eyes flash with something like a challenge and Namjoon feels his blood warm.

“That girl is never at her desk and she has no idea who’s coming or going,” you accuse quietly.  “She’s putting you at risk.”

Namjoon concedes your point with a slow half-smirk that teases the edge of his mouth.

“Perhaps,” he admits.  “But there are different kinds of risk.  Maybe you put me at risk, too.”

He shouldn’t take pleasure from the way your eyes go wide at that statement.  Or from the way you overcompensate by standing taller, chin lifted high.

But he does.

“Mister Kim -- “ you start.

“ -- Namjoon,” he interrupts.  “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Namjoon? Haven’t we known one another since we were kids?”

“Namjoon,” you correct yourself, taking a deep breath. “I know about everything.  Jinjoo, the bills, all of it.”

Namjoon says nothing for a moment, draining his glass before setting it down on his desk with a heavy thud.

“Why?” you ask quietly.  “Why did you do this for me?”

Because I would do anything for you.  

He doesn’t voice that thought out loud.  He knows he shouldn’t.

But he also knows he shouldn’t be closing the distance between you right now, and he’s doing that anyway.  He steps closer, quietly, and you swallow hard, thrown by his silence and his advance.

“That’s not -- that’s not something you do for an employee,” you protest, slowly backing away.  You stop only when the ledge of his desk hits you on the backside.  

“The late nights and the extra hours.  Everything else you did,” Namjoon murmurs, stepping close, chest rising and falling with his deep breaths.  “Did you do that for your boss?  Or did you do that for me?”

He leans closer, caging your body against his desk.  Your lips part in surprise and Namjoon forces himself not to react when your tongue slips out to wet them.

“Namjoon, I -- ” your voice is barely above a whisper when you find it.  “-- I don’t understand you right now.”

“How could I have every resource at my fingertips and not help you?” he asks, reaching one hand out to cup your face.  The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lips and you shudder under his touch.  “Why didn’t you come to me when you knew I could help?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, pupils blown and cheeks flushed.

“You should have come to me,” he admonishes quietly.  You lean into the touch of his hand.  “I would have given you anything you asked for. Anything.”

“I understand that,” you say quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm.  “Because I would give you anything you asked for, too.”

Something about the way you say that snaps Namjoon back to reality.  

He looks down at you like he’s only just now realized that he’s loaded on scotch, leaning you over his desk -- and well on his way to taking advantage of this situation.  He tenses, pulling away.

“This is -- this is not --” he sputters pathetically for a moment.  “Go home,” he pleads.  “Please.”

He’s never hated himself as much as he does right now -- when you’re looking up at him with hurt and confusion in those wide, dark eyes.

“Go home before I do something I can’t take back.”

************************

tag list!

@prettyguardiansailormin​ @barbikatherine​ @55west81st​ @laabellaavitaa21​ @codeinebelle​ @jalexad​ @trynavibewhileicry​ @poohsaidhi​​ @eltrain80​​ @bluewhale52​​ @sahmfanficbts​​ @midnighttifa​​

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon mafia #bts mafia #ficswithluv #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub

[refriedweeb]

ALL THESE THINGS THAT WE WERE (HAWKS + READER FLUFF)

A/N: This is more of a Drabble than anything! Not a whole lot of action but just a lot of soft thoughts between Hawks and Y/N.

Prompt: Hawks goes to bed each night, the big spoon. Yet, he’s completely unaware of what happens in the early mornings, and Y/N is happy to keep that all to herself.

Word Count: 1,528

Keigo Takami was one of those men who didn’t know how to handle or express his emotions. The Hero Commission had warped him so terribly since he was a child to detach from his emotions, to become only known as Hawks the Pro Hero, that it was hard for him to separate what was real in his life and what was just there as filler in the background. His entire existence was surrounded by the fact that he had to do good in the world. That he wanted to do good in the world. That need, that want, hadn’t come at an easy price by any means. There’d been things that Hawks had done that he’d come to regret, though he’d hardly even realized what he’d done until lengths of time had passed. It’d created a never ending battle of whether or not he was a good person, or if he was just made out to be one. Depressed, reserved, emotionally detached from the idea of anything good ever happening in his life, Keigo hadn’t known what to do when you became a staple in his life.

A newbie hero freshly signed to an agency that his worked closely with, he hadn’t known what to make of you at first. You were so fresh, so excited to make a difference in the world. Compared to his jaded approach to heroism and the celebrity status it gave so many, you two were at best opposites. But the more he ended up spending time around you because of said heroic work, the more he realized...he hadn’t minded you. Your approach was new, the way you did things close to how he would have done them if he hadn’t had his orders from the Hero Commission. You were the type of hero that he’d longed to be when he was a kid. The hero he’d envisioned himself being when he adored Endeavor, and not the hero that he’d been twisted and manipulated by the Commission into being. 

Really, it shouldn’t have surprised Keigo that once those thoughts started, that he’d soon be in your bed.

It hadn’t happened for quite some time, if he were being honest. There was so much shit he had to work through that was his responsibility and his alone, that Keigo didn’t allow himself to act on any of the impulses he had towards you. And despite whatever the media reported on about his flirtatiousness, his boldness, it was all a part of his Hawks’ persona, and not necessarily a reflection of the person Keigo wanted to be. Though, in all fairness, the distinction between Hawks and Keigo was so slim at times, it was even hard for him to decipher who he wanted to be and who he was. 

At some point though, it couldn’t have been helped. He’d had liquid courage on his side and one night while he was walking you home from a hero event (flying you home) he’d just stopped caring about how much of a fucked up person he was mentally and that you deserved someone better than what he could offer you, and kissed you. It’d been a kiss that had subsequently changed is life and Keigo knew that he wanted to keep kissing you like that every opportunity that he had in his life. Shortly after a few casual dates, a few casual nights of losing one another between sheets, you and Keigo started dating.

Now, almost a year later, Keigo couldn’t sleep without you. Though when he did, it was a quiet relief hat he’d never express. Mostly because the singular pro of sleeping without you didn’t outweigh all the cons of not having you in his bed. The thing about Keigo and his wings, was that they were large. They took up as much room as one imagined, and just because he needed to sleep didn’t mean that issue ever went away. However, one of Keigo’s favorite forms of intimacy was being able to cuddle you. And every time you’d spend the night, it’d started off the same way. 

The two of you settled into bed, Keigo the big spoon, you the little spoon. What he’d do to accommodate for more space was the tucking of his wings as tightly as he could against his back. It was the only way that the two of you could fit comfortably in the bed without a wing being slept on, without someone waking up with a mouthful of those beautiful red feathers. He never complained about it, however. Being able to hold you, to feel the warmth of your body and to know that he had someone that he could cling to when he had nightmares through the night, was far more important to him than waking up with stiff wings. He’d never shared a bed with someone before, at least not in the sense of sleeping and cuddling. It’d been an adjustment for him to get used to, but a fast one. It was hard for him to imagine a time in his life where he’d been genuinely cared about by someone who hadn’t looked at him as a means to an end, but you had. And you never asked for anything else other than who he was. You hadn’t wanted Hawks. You’d wanted Keigo Takami. 

You slept through the night as you usually did, which always led to the morning after. It didn’t matter how, where, or through any other circumstance. You’d always wake up as Keigo nudged you onto your back, as he folded himself over your chest. You slipped your hand between the spot where his wings were settled against his skin and massage the velvety skin there. And slowly, Keigo’s wings unfurled. Slowly, because after being tucked in against his back while he held you, they were sinfully stiff. They’d flop down against the mattress, acting as another blanket for you as they stretched with a mind of their own. It’d become a bit of a ritual, waking up like that. All the while Keigo snored, a little bit of drool leaking out of his mouth and onto one of his shirts you wore to bed. 

The longer you massaged the base of his wings, the freckled skin of his back, the happier his wings seemed to grow. They rustled on their own, twitched as they loosened. Every now and again Keigo cooed, hummed a pleasant sounding tune before the snores came back. In all the time you slept over at his place (which was practically nightly now), you never told him about this little intimate time you got to have with him, his guard entirely down. Keigo wasn’t the only one who had a hard time being vulnerable, and you never once forced him to be. You had to admit though, watching his wings shift and curl around your body as Keigo nuzzled in closer to you, was nice. Another thing about Keigo that you had since come to accept since you started dating him, that the vocalizations of his love for you were seldom, years of trauma and lack of love stunting his ability to express it verbally. 

 But the ways that he showed you he loved you were endless. How when he flew you through the sky, he’d always point out your favorite constellation if it was visible. How, when he found himself in his rut season he made sure to make up the carnal need to be rough with you with gifts, aftercare, and always finding your favorite hard to find candy effortlessly. When it rained, he’d shield you with one of his wings before you even had the chance to open your umbrella. This, the way he folded himself against your skin wing and body as if you were the last good thing he had left in the world and he was desperate not to lose you. In Keigo’s defense, that was exactly how he viewed you. He hadn’t had many good things through his life. He could have probably counted them all on one hand. Yet, you were always the first good thing. The best good thing. 

Keigo never questioned why he didn’t wake with sore wings once. He knew he rolled over top of you, apologized here and again at the thought of you squished under the weight of his wings. He thought it was weird when you’d turn from him with a smile that held secrets and say that it was nothing at all. You couldn’t tell him, didn’t want to share the secret with him because it was something you know he’d blush at. Not know how to accept the genuine kindness you always wanted to show him because you loved him. Keigo Takami came in many different forms, in many different ways, and you never wanted him to second guess any part of your love for him. He had his secrets, a life he needed to keep private for a number of reasons.

And as you lazily stroked a finger up the top curve of his wing, you smiled. You didn’t think it was so bad that you kept this one to yourself. 

#keigo takami #Keigo Takami x reader #Keigo Takami x you #Keigo Takami x y/n #keigo takami fluff #hawks #hawks x reader #hawks x you #hawks x y/n #hawks mha #bnha keigo #bnha keigo takami #mha keigo takami #my hero academia x reader #my hero academia x you #my hero academia x y/n #bnha #mha #boku no hero #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero x y/n #boku no hero x you #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia headcanon #boku no hero imagine #boku no hero headcanon #Keigo Takami imagine #Keigo Takami headcanon #hawks headcanon #hawks imagine

[disgruntledspacedad]

in defense of Din’s subdued reaction to losing the kid...

gif by @quantam-widow

I know we were all thinking it. We got a 2 second reaction shot to the destruction of the Razor Crest (may she forever rest in peace), but then, Grogu gets taken, and... nothing?

What the fuck, Din? we all protest. That’s your baby on that ship! Don’t you care? Scream, curse, kick a rock, cry, make a fist, something!!

I will acknowledge that so far, the show has been excellent with giving us emotional payoff, am I right? I mean, just today we got Din laughing, twice. Twice in a row. I honestly never thought we’d see that. There have been so many excellent, precious soft!Din moments this season, and they all feel deliciously earned.

So, from a meta POV, I guess I’m saying that I have faith in the writers to get it right, and in Pedro to deliver. Duh.

In universe, though, I think it’s fair to point out the obvious - that Din is a pretty reserved guy. He’s much more of a thinker than a feeler. He’s used to keeping things bottled up, and I would even argue that his life often depends on his ability to dissociate from his emotions. Din’s entire journey so far has been about how one little baby yodito shakes his worldview to its very foundations. He’s getting there, but it’s a slow process. 

And also, consider this - we haven’t seen Din alone yet, not since Grogu was taken. For a guy who lives a guarded life literally encased in fucking armor, any display of emotion is going to be carefully protected until he’s in private.

But anyway, Din is detached, rational, a little emotionally constipated, and definitely comfortable in a stressful situation. A true ISTP if you ask me (yeah, I know you didn’t, but whatever). Often, it seems that these cool headed, logical types who have never ruffled a feather over anything in their lives are the least adept at handling genuine fear. In other words, when panic does strike, it strikes them hard. 

And guys, Din was definitely panicking during this episode. 

He’s clearly unsettled from the jump - that outburst of “dank farrik!” in the cockpit sells it, and his distress only becomes more obvious from there. Talking out loud, trying to convince himself that the best thing for Grogu is for him to be trained as a Jedi. Reminding himself of the creed. His overt caution as they approach the seeing stone. His impatience, “Are you seeing anything??”

Then there’s the effects of long term stress. Sure, a bounty hunter in the outer rim doesn’t exactly live an easy life, but Din is definitely used to the drama being on his terms. Compare Din’s body language in the opening scene of season one to when Boba confronts him in chapter fourteen. You can just feel the anxiety, the weariness, the frustration. Din has been on the run for months now, constantly looking over his shoulder, sleeping with one eye open. Notice how he even startles at Fennec’s voice? Season one Din would never have given that much away, regardless of the situation. Long term stress has clearly taken a toll on him.

So we have unsettled, stressed out Din in an emotionally charged situation. He’s exhausted, he’s scared, he’s desperate. This scenario is a recipe for even the most level-headed of adrenaline junkies to loose their cool, and that’s exactly what happens to Din. He panics, and he makes some pretty big fuckups because of it. Leaving Grogu unprotected, twice. Trying three different times to break through that “force field,” even when he knew he couldn’t. Dropping that jetpack and then just forgetting about it (I know we were all screaming about that one, or at least, I was).

So, fear is a positive feedback loop. Those neurotransmitters that do us good in a bad situation - raising heart rate, narrowing focus, shunting blood to the muscles - can also be detrimental if we get too high of a dose - tachypnea and tachycardia, inability to think critically and see the big picture, lack of blood and oxygen to the brain. Epinephrine, in particular, even inhibits the laying down of new memory pathways. In other words, stress leads to poor performance, and poor performance leads to more stress, which leads to... you get the idea.

Then, in the middle of all this chaos, they fucking blast the Razor Crest.

More epinephrine, more cortisol, more stress. 

By the end of it all, Din is a fucking shitstorm of stress hormones and pent up emotions. Notice how he seems to be on autopilot in the immediate aftermath, robotically scanning the ashes of the Crest for anything that might be left intact. Notice how empty his voice is when he says, “the child is gone.” This is a dead man walking. Din has nothing left. His whole life has just gone up in smoke, and he can do nothing about it. 

Guys, Din is holding onto his sanity by a fucking thread in this scene. “The child is gone,” he says, like he’s reminding himself, grounding himself in his shitty reality. He’s stunned. 

And helpless. There’s literally nothing he can do for Grogu. He has no ship, no credits, no resources, nothing to bargain with, nothing to offer. Din literally cannot allow himself the luxury of feelings right now. He’s just got to focus on surviving this very shitty day.

Then, Boba Fett upholds his end of the deal, and suddenly, Din has something to hold onto. An ally, a badass friend, some hope. I don’t think Boba shows Din that chain code in order to verify his claim on the armor - he’s already wearing it, for godssake. I think Boba shows him the code in order to catch Din’s attention - hey friend, I know you’re hurting, but I’m a man of my word. When I make a vow, I keep it. Let’s regroup and go find your kid.

And Din would totally latch onto that. A fighting chance? Din fucking leaps at it. There’s a job to do. A kid to save. All of those stress hormones are going to keep on stewing, because Din has never really come down from his adrenaline high. 

It’s like this in real life, too. There isn’t time to be afraid. There isn’t time to be sad, or second-guess, or say, oh how terrible, or wonder what if it doesn’t work? There’s just you and the job, and if you are the only thing standing between life and death, you will put everything else aside and do what you have to do, for as long as you have to do it.

And that’s where Din is at this moment. He’s running on the fumes of his adrenaline, all tempered focus, all strategy and no bullshit.

Emotional shock, my therapist buddy calls it. Apparently, it’s normal. Expected, even.

But guys, the fallout of this kind of crazy ass adrenaline high is insanely intense. I’m talking collapse to the floor, legs won't hold you, trembling, crying so hard you sling snot, shuddering breaths, stare dead-eyed and spent at the ceiling because you’re just too wiped out to even sleep kind of intense. 

And then, after the breakdown comes the angst. The detailed thinking. The oh god, what if this had happened, or, should I have done that instead? It seems like every emotion that gets put on the back burner in the moment comes back to bite you with twofold intensity when all is said and done. 

In other words, Din is definitely going to feels some things .A lot of very intense things. A reckoning is coming, my dudes. Trust me. It’s just not quite here yet.

That being said, here’s what I can expect from Din going forward:

Just like he’s is slow to acknowledge his growing parental feelings for Grogu, I think Din’s going to be slow at processing his grief at Grogu’s loss. In the next episode, he’s got plenty to distract him - getting together his hit team to take back the kid and coordinating an attack on the empire. 

However, I do think we’ll get a slow moment with Din, probably sometime at the beginning of next week’s episode if the pattern holds. I doubt it’s the full-blown breakdown that we’re all needing, but I’m willing to bet money that we’ll see Din grappling with the fact that his kid is gone. I also think that badass beskar murder machine Din from chapter three will resurface. Stress and desperation make us do irrational things, and anger is one of the stages of grief that Din will inevitably have to work through (I think he’s flickering between denial and bargaining for now).

But then, after Din gets Grogu back? I think that’s we’ll have our big, dearly earned emotional payoff. 

For one thing, Din won’t be able to deny his feelings anymore. He wants to keep this kid, it’s so very obvious. Losing him just forces it all to the forefront. 

And then the relief/joy/regret/guilt that Din is going to feel once he’s got Grogu back? Not to mention the physical exhaustion? All of the fear/terror/angst/grief that he ignored in favor of just going pedal to the metal, guns blazing, get the kid or die trying? That shit’s going to crash into him with all the subtly of a fucking tsunami. I guarantee you, we’re going to get some sort of confession, or adoption vow, or face revel, or other sort of profound softness from Dad!Din in the falling action of this season (At least, I hope we get it at the end this season but I wouldn’t put it past them to kick it into the premier of season three, just for pacing reasons, but then again, I obviously have trust issues).

Personally, I would love to see Din grappling with the long-term fallout of losing Grogu - night terrors, guilt, paranoia, etc. That’s probably the stuff of fanfiction - mandalorians don't have nightmares on screen, surely - but still, some lingering effects Grogu’s kidnapping would be realistic, and I would absolutely live for it.

#din djarin #dad din djarin #the mandalorian #baby yoda #grogu #mandadlorian #tm spoilers #chapter fourteen the tragedy #in defense of din djarin #basically this is a thought dump and i'm sorry #also i really need some fic of din really processing the fact that grogu is gone and din just let those fuckers jet off with his baby #no i don't blame din but din definitely blames himself and i am here for that angst #soft din gives me life #also boba fett is such a babe #i just have so many thoughts about this stupid show #i was so distracted at work today #feel free to drop into my inbox or messages and rant about metal dad and his green gremlin son #or send fic #i love fic #and headcanons #and fandom discourse

[mosaicofdreamsanddragons]

Present Smiles

Hello Monkie Kid fandom, I am back and on the Sandy is the original Sha Wujing (or at least a reincarnation that remembers being Sha Wujing) hype train.

Read on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31762732

Sandy liked to focus on the present. There was a lot he could do in the present. Right now he could focus on finding something interesting for MK, poor kid was clearly anxious about something.

Sandy suspected the spiders. It couldn’t be easy to face his fear every day like that.

Pigsy suspected Monkey king’s vacation was reopening old wounds and bringing old fears the surface again. It made Pigsy angry in a way he tried to hide, and so Sandy had lent him Mo for the day and taken the kids off to get them out of his hair.

He’d asked the kids what they wanted to do, and MK’s insistence of going to Flower Fruit Mountain coupled with Mei’s enthusiasm to see the place made it an easy choice.

His own reservations about going to Flower Fruit were unimportant compared to their delighted smiles. If MK was working so hard to face his fears, Wujing could to. And it’s not like his older brother was home anyways

And he could make the overly anxious MK happy by shuffling through the vast amount of stuff in the small house MK had led them too. Hadn’t it been bigger? Something here would surely help the kid calm down. A fun distraction would do more good than a tool right now, so he focused on showing only the most interesting knickknacks his older brother horded in his house.

Not that they did much good.

Maybe he should have taken one of Mo’s fellow therapy cats with them, one that specialized in anxiety.

At least MK had started playing a game now, even if he was approaching it with all the zeal of a lesson.

Then again, he seemed happy to play and confident enough to skip the tutorials. Sandy took out his tea and offered a cup to the bored Mei, but she turned it down in favor of watching MK skip the dialogues with disapproval.

“He’s going to regret that,” she whispered to Sandy, “I skipped the tutorials on Monkey Mash for years and totally didn’t know a basic move that made the game five times easier…”

“At least he’s having fun,” whispered back Sandy as MK entered the store and…

That gentle smile flat and lifeless on a screen, the voice mechanical and garbled not warm and real, closing his eyes when he was trying to instruct in wisdom frozen in place not moving and alive…

…that disappointed frown…

MK was right, Wukong had made this game.

Wukong’d clearly done his best but Wujing's heart ached to see their teacher so close but so so fake

Caught up in trying to mentally fix the wrongs with the stilled image he let MK’s enthusiastic reactions fade to the back of his mind. What would it take to fix the errors of the flat picture? The voice would lack the mechanical background and would take on a slightly pretentious tone when he tried to instruct them, like Tang’s did, chest lightly moving with each breath. But he couldn’t quite animate the pictures in his mind, not without it feeling oh so very wrong.

Perhaps he could start with a base? A living breathing person who he could then imagine the features of his teacher on. Tang would work, there was some resemblance there….

So wrapped up in his thoughts was he that he only barely caught Mei’s statement, “kinda looks like…”

“Tang? I know I thought the exact same thing,” he says with a grin, glad to be pulled from his memories.

“Ahhh, right” says Mei. He’d missed something here, but he didn’t let the nagging sense of some mistake bother him. Time to focus on the present.

The present was a bored Mei and an MK who grew increasingly more frustrated with the game he was playing.

Wujing was ignoring his form on the game, the anger in his 2D eyes who only existed to fight …

Why is that how everyone remembers me? Is this really how he remembers me? As that angry fighter?

Wujing wasn’t like his older brother. He didn’t hide himself away from his grief. No, Wujing got angry. So very angry, until he saw the consequences first hand for a familiar-but-not face. And he’d tried so hard to fix that, to let go of the anger, to be more than that.

Bajie, no this was Pigsy, on the ground hurt…again, no not again this was Pigsy not Bajie…and it had been his fault, his fault…and still he was so angry, so angry that this had happened. Longing to punch something, he’d turned to find a convenient tree or pole, only to catch sight of a too-familiar disappointed frown out of the corner of his eye…

…and the anger drained from him. He looked back to Pigsy. Right now, in the present, he needed to help his friend to a hospital. There would be time for anger later.

When he’d looked up again the frown and its owner had been gone, and when he’d come back to search for it all he’d found had been a cat pawing at a flyer for anger management therapy.

He shook his head and focused his attention on the present, which was entertaining Mei. For a few hours she was content to watch MK play and complain about his moves snarkily into Sandy’s ear (somethings run in the family Wujing supposed). But after that she grew restless.

Sandy proposed meditation and tea (he rather thought he’d earned it) but she was more interested in digging through the house for something to entertain herself in the piles and piles of Monkey King Merch and assorted trinkets. So he joined her, letting himself focus on the moment and her enthusiasm, her laughter at his finds, and not the past emotions burning under his skin.

“What is this!” she squealed holding aloft a plush green dragon.

“A seahorse?” he suggested. It did look a bit like a sea horse. He wondered if that was an intentional joke or if the creator had just sacrificed recognizability for cuteness.

“It’s adorable!” she said before tearing through the old chest for more. Soon adding a smiling pig with too big eyes, a Monkey whose head was all out of proportion, and a man with a red beard, mouth too big for his face.

He picked the plush version of his past up and realized the mouth had been stitched over. The difference between the smooth manufactured stitching and the later additions was painfully obvious. Two little curved lines had been added to either side of the mouth with a thread that didn’t quite match and stiches that were too large and uneven.

“Awww,” said Mei from behind him, “He’s smiling!”

“He is,” said Wujing softly, cradling the store made doll in his hand and tracing the his brother’s clumsy correction with his thumb and struggling to name the emotion that was rising inside him and stealing his ability to speak.

“Hey, um” said Mei, awkwardly patting his arm. “Would you like some tea?”

He glanced down at her blurry form, blinking himself back into the present, “That would be lovely, Mei.”

Mei did not, in fact, have a teapot to make tea from the leaves she’d found. In the time it took for her to find one (eventually he’d just left his sitting right on the table for her to “discover”), he probably should have checked what the leaves where. But he didn’t and now Mei was out like a light.

He tucked her in with the plushie version of her ancestor and glanced the other child under his watch. MK was still frantically playing away at the game battering his way through the 2D versions of the past. But as he watched he found himself more concerned with the boys own health then an anger and an old grief. Perhaps later he could convince MK to have some of the tea Mei had discovered, a nap might do him some good.

He filed that away as a plan for the future.

Right next to catching up with his older brother.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #Sandy #monkie kid Sandy #Monkie kid Sha Wujing #Monkie kid Mei #long xiaojiao #Monkie Kid MK #qi xiaotian #my fic

[redworld96]

Nakaba Suzuki's interview from “Pair Sin: King & Diane Guidebook” talking about King, Diane and Howzer. (November 2018).

1. How did King and Diane come to be a couple?

Nakaba: Unlike Meliodas and Ban, I came up with King and Diane without planning to make them a couple from the beginning. The same Diane, for example, was at first unrequitedly in love with Meliodas. Then King appeared, and I decided that let him be unrequitedly in love with Diane, because it is interesting to look at the development of the relationship between the couple "fairy and giant". Well, that's what we came up with in the end. As you can see, these two are slightly different from the couples of previous guidebooks.

2. King is the king of the fairies, but compared to Meliodas and Ban, he acts cowardly and looks rather childish.

Nakaba: In a good way, he "didn't come out of childhood." Something like the lead of the seventh-eighth class: he seems to be responsible, and strives for leadership, but still a child inside.

3.He often suffers from doubts, I must say.

Nakaba: Of all the Seven Deadly Sins, he has perhaps the finest mental organization. Take, for example, the same Meliodas: his attitude towards his beloved and the strength of his feelings for her far exceed all reasonable limits. Well, maybe the point is that the rest of the "Sins" are just too arrogant, ha-ha!

4.Why is King showed as a fat man on the wanted list?

Nakaba: Apparently he was very nervous at first when he was in the Seven Deadly Sins. (King turns into a fat man when he's nervous)

5.These transitions from the appearance of an old man to a sweet boy are also not devoid of their charm.

Nakaba: Actually, my original idea was to make the "Sins" posters completely different from their real faces. During a discussion with the editor, there was a proposal to make his second look younger, but still settled on a fat man, because the contrast was stronger.

6.What about Diane? When I first saw her, I wondered if she was too big?

Nakaba: I decided to make her so big that she looked absolutely fantastic and unreal.

7.Her size is very noticeable when there are other characters nearby. What difficulties do you have to face while drawing her?

Nakaba: Usually, the camera angles are when Diane is looking at someone from above or when someone is looking at her from below, but there is no particular difficulty. Although it happens that another character is in the frame as a whole, and only a face from Diane, ha ha! But the same angles quickly become boring, so I introduced the shrinking pills into history. Well, a serious calm giantess would look intimidating, so I purposely gave her girly features and details in the costumes.

8.She hides her mouth with her hair very cute when she is embarrassed.

Nakaba: I remember that at school girls did the same when they were embarrassed. Perhaps, somehow unconsciously, I drew Diane with such habit.

9.Initially, Diane was unrequitedly in love with Meliodas, but were you going to make her a rival for Elizabeth?

Nakaba: The rivalry would have been if Meliodas reacted (or didn't) the same to both Elizabeth and Diane. Therefore, from the very beginning, I was not going to force Diane to get in between them - this is not a love comedy. But the unrequited love Diane turned out to be so touching and really liked the readers.

10.But Meliodas is still dear to Diane, right?

Nakaba: Yes, because he was the first person to treat her like a girl, and unfeminine girls like Diane are especially happy about that. Plus, he saved her.

11.Now tell us how Howzer came to be.

Nakaba: His best friend Gilthunder is exemplary handsome, so I wanted to do his complete opposite and gave Howzer a pompadour hairstyle and a bully personality.

12. Howzer is quite closely related to Diane, but he does not seem to show such obvious romantic sympathies ...

Nakaba: Right. Some people misinterpret his attitude. Howzer finds Diane very sweet, but even in his thoughts he has no intention of meeting her. Sometimes, looking at the merciful King and Diane, he will think something in the spirit of “Oh, lovebirds, eh!”. But his case is not at all the same as, for example, Jericho's towards Ban.

13. Recently, Howzer's pompadour has become more pronounced, it seems to me.

Nakaba: At first I drew him a pompadour-like hairstyle, but then there was a moment when Howzer appeared after a long break, and it was clearly in my memory that he had a full-fledged pompadour, and that's how it happened. But now it has become easier to draw it.

14. Howzer is surprisingly judicious in emergencies.

Nakaba: This is also in contrast to Gilthunder, who is usually reserved, but is noticeably aroused in battle. As you can see, this trait was appreciated by Howzer, since he was promoted right up to the Great Holy Knight.

15.Which of the three is easiest for you to draw, and who is more difficult?

Nakaba: Not that difficult, but I'm especially careful when painting King because he chooses who to talk to. Even in the group of The Seven Deadly Sins, he hardly interacts with anyone other than Diane. He's quite secretive and introverted, so I make sure these traits persist.

16.And in terms of drawing?

Nakaba: King is the most difficult. It all falls on the shoulders of my wife, ha ha!

17.What do you think is the beauty of King and Diane as a couple?

Nakaba: I think it’s their inexperience in this regard. There is no feeling of "family" among fairies and giants, which makes their relationship special; and many people like it, as far as I can tell.

18.And the proof is the number of scenes with an embarrassed and blushing King!

Nakaba: Well, yes, Meliodas harasses like some kind of pervert old man, and Ban cannot be embarrassed at all. But King has a pure and innocent heart, like the hero of a love comedy. His kiss’ scenes in general would be more suitable for any schoolboy, ha ha!

19. Diane sometimes puts King in her cleavage, without even thinking, and this makes him embarrassed even more often ...

Nakaba: Diane just doesn't think about men's opinions. I drew her keeping in mind the image of a sort of athletic elementary school girl. And for King I chose an eighth-grader boy, because it is in high school that they begin to have an active interest in the opposite sex. I think this difference creates the desired effect.

20.And Diane, meanwhile, had to endure twice the loss of memory.

Nakaba: After the battle in the capital, Diane began to slowly regain her memories of the past. At this rate, she would remember her feelings for King, and they would become a happy couple. But with their school-level love story, they would have stood out unfavorably against the background of Meliodas and Ban, and I didn't want that. Fortunately, I was just thinking of using Gowther in the plot, so I made him erase Diane's memory.

21.Gowther's act surprised many then!

Nakaba: Gowther's moves on Diane are the most effective. If he tried to use them on Meliodas, not only would he break off, but he would also get change in addition, haha! Well, then, when original Gowther returned her memory, it was Diane who best suited the role of the character who said the right words to him. In spite of everything, I think after the events of Volume 27, Diane, King and Gowther have developed a strong bond.

22.So, then everything will be smooth for them?

Nakaba: Somehow it’s not very satisfying to mock them even more, so I don’t think you should worry.

23.Which chapters with King and Diane do you like the most?

Nakaba: Probably the scene from Volume 27 when their feelings became mutual. I was finally able to breathe easy and stop worrying about this couple, which I have been drawing for so long.

24.The scenes where King rescues Diane are also pretty good.

Nakaba: In such scenes, he is always late, and someone already becomes a victim ... I myself, while drawing him, I think "Yes, hurry up, nice!"

25.Fukuyama Jun-san and Yuki Aoi-san (voice of King and Diane) noted in their interviews that they liked how Diane made one of her golems look like King during the Grand Tournament.

Nakaba: I think it was a manifestation of her love for King, which still remained in her despite her lost memory. Diane is honest, therefore she expresses her sympathy directly and openly. And King, on the contrary, monitors the reaction of the interlocutor and behaves accordingly. There is a little humanly ugly side on him, hehe. But that's what I like about him. Meliodas and Ban don't have that, so it's pretty interesting to draw.

26.If King and Diane get married, what kind of family life will they have?

Nakaba: I think they will always be that way and will be the same innocent and homely warm. Nobody will try to take a leading position. King is the king of the fairies, so he won't become henpecked either and at the right time he will be able to take matters into his own hands. But both will respect and take into account each other's opinions. Well, King will sometimes show off in front of Diane.

27.I can't wait to find out what kind of children they will have!

Nakaba: Well, you'll have to wait a little longer here ...

28.Any future wishes for King, Diane and Howzer?

Nakaba: My advice to King is not to be late anymore and protect Diane properly. To Diane, she can safely rely on King in everything. Well, good luck to Howzer as Great Holy Knight, ha ha! He is popular among readers, but in the story itself he does not have much success with girls. Hopefully he can find his lover. Personally, I think Guila would be good for him ... but I don't even know. Let him take his time in this search.

29.And finally, a few words to the readers!

Nakaba: The ending is approaching, the relationship is finally stabilizing. Well, you don't have to worry about King and Diane, they will be fine!

Sources: thesevendeadlysins-boarhat .com & Nanatsu no Taizai | Семь Смертных Грехов

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #the seven deadly sins #kiane #seven deadly sins #king harlequin #diane #king nnt #howzer #pair sin guidebook #kiane guidebook

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Mod, who are your top 10 favorite characters and top 10 least favorite?

//I have actually been wanting to discuss something like this, so I’m glad someone brought it up to me.

//I’ll go through with this, but I won’t be discussing my least favorites, since I don’t want to bring any negativity, and to be honest, I enjoy writing pretty much everyone in this blog. I also fear if I share who my least favorites are in the main series, said characters won’t get as many asks, and I don’t want any unfair bias. I can definitely admit to hating Haiji though, because...well...he obviously won't be receiving any questions anymore. Besides, I doubt many people will disagree with me.

Honorable Mentions:

Makoto Naegi

Mahiru Koizumi

Kirumi Tojo

Kaede Akamatsu

Tsumugi Shirogane

Shuichi Saihara

Iroha Nijiue

Mikihiko Koyasunaga

Yoruko Kabuya

Tsurugi Kinjo

Uchui Porosen

Kibin Hatsudoki

//Though to be honest, everyone may as well be an honorable mention because I love writing every single one of these guys. Also, like I just said, don’t let this top 10 affect your asks. I love every character in this blog and I’m happy to make asks for each and every one of them. It was really hard to narrow it down to 10

#10: Tenko Chabashira

This might seem a little surprising, given that Tenko hasn't had a whole lot of screen time and story relevance so far. She's only been prominent in two arcs, Deadly Harmony and Novoselic Revolution, both of which she didn't have as much screen time as most of the other characters. However, not to spoil anything major, I have big plans for her, and what I've pulled out of her so far is something I'm proud of. My main goal is mainly to give her a bit of development, and tone down on the sexism element of her character. Not remove it entirely, mind you, because let's be real, Tenko unfortunately isn't Tenko without it, but basically to not do what the DR dev team did and make it the forefront of her character, while her other exceedingly good traits are just at the back until later on in the story.

#09: Kokichi Ouma

Kokichi is one of, if not, my favorite character in the original DR series. My main goal of him in this series is trying to grapple with his constantly changing attitude, mainly towards the DRV3 cast besides himself. At first he's glad to see them, then he turns spiteful towards Shuichi and Kaede when they try to fight him, then he straight up just abandons them and attempts to cut off contact. As he is right now, he's conflicted about how to feel about everyone. Sure, they all still hate him, but during Cabaret Kyojin's they came to his defense when he most needed it. That whole arc might've seemed pretty pointless and acted as needless filler, but my true intention of it was to flesh out the characters involved, mainly Kokichi and Kuripa. Speaking of which, that's another plot point that I'm looking forward to branching upon: the little companionship those two have going on right now.

#08: Monaca Towa

Monaca is a character I actually tend to struggle with in the grand scheme of things. The reason being that, arguably, she in canon is the second biggest antagonist in the series behind Junko. What I tried to do with Survivor though, is not make her an antagonist, but make her slowly become more and more redeemable, despite her actions. The reason why I went with this approach is mainly due to Monaca's last appearance in the series, where she states to Toko and Komaru that she's kind of just done with everything to do with Junko and Despair. I don't think it would be easy to bring her back as an antagonist because of THAT fiasco, and that is legitimately one of favorite scenes of her...which is funny because it's from DR3 and I kinda hate the anime. Her whole presence in Survivor is based around the idea of trying to seek redemption, but she doesn't outwardly want to admit this, nor does she really think she's worthy or deserving of said redemption. She's an adult now, and she grew a conscience. A guilty one that weighs her down and makes her come back to earth to basically settle things and make peace, and though it's been difficult, I love how she's turned out so far.

#07: Akira Tsuchiya

I understand many have their reservations about Akira after what he did this arc, but he's still legitimately one of my favorite villains in this blog because despite the fact that he's a psychopath who kills and ruins people all just for causing Despair, he's just kinda super relatable. He constantly lives with the attitude of just being done with everyone's shit, and I know a lot of DR fans can relate to that. He's also the kind of guy who marches to the beat of his own drum, which is obviously a very slow beat. He rarely ever does what Tsumugi tells him to do, unless the plan interests him or gives him something to do, and his character in general is based around the idea of "Shut-in NEET who just so happens to have a power complex." Overall, what makes him unique to me is just how normal he is, especially when he's compared to the chaotic sea that is the Danganronpa Villains.

#06: Mikan Tsumiki

Novoselic Revolution had the very important role in the story of mending Mikan. Without her efforts and the sacrifices she made in that arc, there's a high chance that the group would have failed to retake the kingdom from Angie and Mikihiko. It goes without saying that the screentime Mikan got in this arc was some of my absolute favorite moments on this blog from a writers perspective. A lot of people in DR dislike Mikan for her actions and character change in the third case of the second game, which I really don't think is fair. Mikan was just the character chosen to be afflicted with the Despair Disease. Nothing else would have been changed had it been a different character, so her role early on in Survivor is mainly her trying to come to terms with her actions, as well as things like making things right with Hiyoko (and Ibuki by extrension) and reevaluating whether or not she's a good person. Mikan is an emotionally and mentally broken child, and it's my full intent in my writing of her to heal her wounds like she does for so many other people.

#05: Narumi Osone

Easily my favorite Zetsubou villain in the blog. During Novoselic Revolution, I really buttered up how much I enjoyed writing Mikihiko, but in reality, I was just waiting for the Rebirth Duo (her and Akira) to burst onto the scene. She didn't make for as great a twist villain in Life and Lies of Akeru Yozora as I would've liked her to be, but even now, I still feel like she left an impact. I mean, she committed quite the number of atrocities. The main reason why I like Narumi though, is how she diverges from the rest of the Zetsubou group. While most of them are doing their evil things for reasons that constitute to causing as much Despair as possible, she does it for almost the complete opposite reason. She absolutely despises Despair, and the only reason she's with Organization Zetsubou, is so that she can patiently await and watch as the Hope that stems from the people fighting back. It's also plays into her ideal. Narumi is so obsessed with Hope that she believes that anyone and everyone who is without hope, and gives into Despair, doesn't deserve to live (and ideal that also allows her to easily hit it off with Nagito). To name the best example: The UUV. Their revenge fantasy is based around the Despair they feel post Ayumu and Marin's deaths, and not around the Hope of their goal of reforming society, even if by force. When Narumi notices this, is angers her so much she murders all of them in cold blood, believing them to be beyond redemption. As a final note, Narumi's violent nature and lust for bloodshed (and lest not forget her weird obsession with Makoto) is also made all the more tragic when you remember she's literally just a 14 year old kid with not a lot of life experience. For someone to be this far gone at such a young age is pretty depressing, but it also provides me with a lot of great writing opportunities, and god damn it she isn't a fun character to write.

#04: Mukuro Ikusaba.

I could pretty much just copy/paste the basic things I said about Monaca's personal conflict for Mukuro, but on a much more extreme level. This is something that I plan on actually branching on later down the line, but Mukuro's backstory and reason why she has a presence here is briefly mentioned by Sayaka in one post. To sum up what she said, when the Foundation were first starting to use the machines to bring back the victims of the first killing game, Makoto was the one who suggested possibly bringing Mukuro back, something that understandably, his classmates initially were against. However, at the time, Kyoko was still new to being the Foundation Chairwoman, and Makoto very much pressed the issue with her. Kyoko eventually agreed to the resurrection, but in exchange, any and all actions committed by the soldier, most notably any treacherous or bad ones, would subsequently be Makoto's responsibility. Of course, as you can imagine, Makoto accepted these terms, and Mukuro was resurrected. For a while afterwards, many were very wary of her presence, and most didn't outright accept her as a member of the Foundation, even when the Remnants of Despair officially signed up. What you have to remember is that Mukuro wasn't really brainwashed into helping Junko, at least not in the same way that the Remnants were. Most of what she did for Junko is what she did willingly, but Makoto felt that in reality, Mukuro was just another one of Junko's victims and she'd never known Hope in her life, which is why she turned out so chaotic, so his whole intention of reviving her was to redeem her honor, of which he was pretty much successful. The main trait of Mukuro's though that I tend to focus on, is arguably her most serious: her PTSD. Of all the characters who could have been hit hard with PTSD, it makes the most sense for it to be a soldier, and since the beginning of her revival, Mukuro has been cursed by the lingering ghost of her dead Despair sister. Junko's presence in her mind less drives Mukuro insane though, and simply makes her doubt herself and her presence, wondering if it was worth being revived, or whether or not she truly deserves to live. But regardless of how she feels, she's duty bound to the end, and still supports everyone unquestionably, especially towards those in her own branch being Makoto, her boss, the man who saved her, and of course her undeniable love interest, and Kuripa to whom she disciplines, but also acts as a mother/big sister figure to.

#03: Hajime Hinata.

It might just be me, but I feel like Hajime in particular is the fan fav in this blog. I feel he's shown up in more posts than any other character, which is fine by me given he's also one of my personal favorite characters, and is probably my favorite protagonist (it really changes depending on my mood, honestly, I think they're all as great as each other). The remnants of Despair's conflict is an obvious one that you commonly see in post-game fics such as this one, and in Survivor, and my personal opinion, Hajime is undoubtedly the one who has it the hardest. However, out of all of the characters in the series who HAVE trauma (and let's be real, that's undoubtedly a LOT of characters in both DR canon, and this blog) he's also undoubtedly the one who handles it the best. However, there is a limit to how much pressure he can take, and that causes him to lash out (like he did with Mahiru during Misfortune's Revenge, which I know we don't like to talk about but its the most notable example). He's been through a whole load of shit and the pressure is constantly crushing him like a gigantic boulder, yet he still forces himself to carry it. Outside of my own writing, Hajime has so many conflicting thoughts and trauma in other fics, and in Survivor, I don't intend to flat out copy them, but I do desire to live up to them. The reason why Hajime has so many burdens placed upon him, and as of Misfortune's Revenge now has double as many, yet is still able to keep going strong, is because he's no longer allowing himself to be weighed down by events that are in the past and out of his control. What makes his ideal unique, is that he has power, almost limitless amounts of it, but instead of focusing on what he can do with it, he's more conflicted and focused on what he CAN'T do, and changing the past is one thing he can't, and as of such doesn't focus on it. He only ever focuses on the present, and the future, and worries about that. And you've got to hand it to the guy, while it's definitely been better, his life is actually super good right now. He has at least 15 really great friends/found family members, a home on an island resort, an AI companion in his phone who will always help him out and support him, a smoking-hot red-haired girlfriend, a pretty good job and a lot more. For him, it's not simply a matter of abiding by the Foundation and fixing the chaos that he indirectly caused. It's also about the fear of losing what he has, and wanting to protect it.

#02: Ayumu Fujimori.

I've said this one or two times before, but I think Ayumu turned out spectacular, and when I eventually had to kill him off, I felt really bad about doing so. The main reason why I removed him, and why I currently don't have any plans to bring him back, is due to my future plans, having him around would make little to no sense. He serves mainly as a catalyst for the new phase of the story, a much darker one, and with his death, we enter that phase. I know many people are worried about it, but it's not just Ayumu's reason for being in the story that makes him great. While it isn't obvious right away, the main character that I was trying to portray with him, is that he's basically the darker side of Hajime. The two of them share very similar traits in character, personality and backstory. Some notable points would be

Both of them are incredibly self-doubtful, and that self-doubt caused them to become Ultimate Hopes.

Both of them once held huge admiration for a powerful group of people. For Hajime it was Hope's Peak and for Ayumu it was the Japanese Government

Said power called them useless, which led to their transformation

Both have pretty sad backstories, which involve two different types of cruel parents and family's.

They both have a best friend who likes to sleep.

Said best friend ended up dying horribly right in front of them, with them both unable to do anything about it, which eventually leads them both to go insane and make some bad decisions.

Though their methods differ, ultimately, they both want the same thing: a brighter future for their friends and the people they love

Ayumu might be a threat, and an antagonist, but he doesn't really count as a "villain" per se. At the core, he's basically just a misguided young man, who the world treated like shit, so he just wants to get back at it. He's also an influential figure, pulling many people into his fight, and gaining many supporters outside of his friends in the UUV. For the short time he was on the blog, he was an absolute BLAST to write, and you can damn sure bet I'm going to miss him.

#01: Kuripa Kurafto.

This is undoubtedly the riskiest part of this list, especially since we're talking about an OC here, but I also think a lot of you guys saw this coming. I can understand why some of you might disagree with me on this placement, but I'll tell you now, if you're unimpressed, trust me, I am barely scratching the surface of Kuripa's character. As of such, I have to go on this based off of what's already known about him. His whole character I feel comes full circle at the end of the Ultra Despair Gang arc, in which the first monumental event in the blog actually happens: him killing Haiji Towa by stabbing him in the gut and sending him falling to his death. This is then followed by a speech to Makoto, Komaru, Toko and Byakuya, which basically lays out the key part of Kuripa's character, being his ideals. Every protagonist in Danganronpa goes by a certain ideal that contrasts that of their enemies. For Makoto, it's Hope, for Hajime, it's Future, and for Shuichi it's truth. Kuripa is the complete reverse, being a protagonist that represents Despair. He's not outright a villain, or even a generally bad guy, but he definitely has some apparent darkness to him, and is also incredibly violent when at the peak of rage. Of course, it all stems from a huge event in his life, the murder of his little sister Kotoko by the hands of Matta Gyalusetsu, which has led to his over-arcing conflict: his desire to find Matta and kill him as revenge. I tend to hate characters in stories who have the "My Sister is Dead" archetype or trope, but the main reason is because most characters who have that JUST have that, and for Kuripa that's something I'm trying to avoid. One of the most important parts of Kuripa's character is the contrast between his dark, almost psychopathic side that believes murder is a suitable way to indefinitely solve a problem, and his regular self, who to put simply, is a complete and total clown. He's like a walking meme, and makes a total fool out of himself, either through just being a mindless tomfool, a playful perv, or a loveable idiotic otaku. Still, his presence is indeed important to everyone around him, especially seen through his interactions with Makoto, Kibin, Mukuro, Uchui, Kokichi, The Kyojin's and the High Roller staff. This is another thing in regards to Kuripa's conflict that is quite saddening to. Similar to Hajime, as things currently stand, Kuripa has an excellent life. He's a successful animator who makes a lot of money from his work, he enjoys his time at the Future Foundation and really looks up to both Makoto and Mukuro who both treat him with a reciprocated amount of respect, he gets to work in tangent with his best friend, he has many pals, some of which are part of an anime club, and on top of it all, he has a cute girlfriend who playfully flirts back and forth with him all the time. He has everything a guy could possibly ever want, but due to his one track mind, he can never be satisfied knowing Kotoko's killer is still out there, and he will do whatever it takes to avenge her...even if he needs to cut a few people down to get it...

//Doing this kind of self-reflective character analysis is pretty refreshing and fun to be honest, although, doing it makes it sound like I have a big head, and am complementary of my own writing where I know many might disagree with my techniques and opinions. You're free to, believe me, but please keep any criticism constructive.

-Mod

#tenko chabashira #kokichi ouma #monaca towa #akira tsuchiya #mikan tsumiki #narumi osone #mukuro ikusaba #hajime hinata #ayumu fujimori #kuripa kurafto #self reflection

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 3

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki battles with new thoughts and feelings as time goes on. While trying to convince himself to leave, he does his best to stop his growing connection to you and Matt. Chapter Warnings: some angst, but also fluff A/N: Third chapter done! For anyone wondering about James, there’s some more information on him in this chapter. And for anyone who saw that other post, this isn’t the super long chapter yet, sorry! Updates every Friday. As always, hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

One week later, Loki was ready to leave. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He’d done his best to keep his distance, and yet he kept getting roped into conversations with you. Surely, though, that was wholly due to your persistence and in no part because he was drawn to you. And this family breakfast he was at yet again? Simply because he was addicted to pancakes. It had nothing to do with you, or your family, or your kind eyes. Okay, maybe it had the tiniest bit to do with your kind eyes. The way you looked at him was like nothing he’d ever known before. Frigga had always done it with a gentle love, but it was always reserved and hidden behind a queenly mask. With you, he could see every thought that passed through your mind reflected in your eyes. He shouldn’t have enjoyed being seen as a bird with a broken wing, but the care you gave him was something he quite liked.

“Hey,” you whispered, nudging him in the side as the rest of the table laughed at something. “You ok?”

“Yes. Just lost in thought I suppose.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Mama curtly interjected, “but whispering at the table ain’t polite.”

Ah, now if Loki was looking for a reason to leave, he could certainly find one in Mama. Though you’d been the one to start the hushed conversation, she was looking pointedly at Loki as if he was the instigator. Then again, she acted like every bad thing that happened since his arrival was his fault, even things he had no control over. Maybe spiting her by staying was reason enough for his delayed departure.

“Sorry,” you said before he could deliver a withering insult. “It’s my fault.”

Mama just made a little humming noise in reply that obviously showed she neither blamed you nor appreciated you taking the fall. In the time that Loki had been at your farm, she either avoided him like the plague or dealt thinly veiled insults his way. It was grating on his nerves, but there wasn’t much he could do bar revealing himself as an all-powerful god. Or leaving. That was always an option, he reminded himself.

“Son, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Papa started, ignoring the tension like always, “I’ve misplaced that dang camera again. I’ll find it again soon though, don’t you worry.”

Little did he know, that camera’s disappearing act was entirely due to Loki’s magic. He’d hidden it around the house a number of times, never anywhere too outrageous as to avoid suspicion. Perhaps this time he’d just keep it in a dimensional pocket. Or let Taffy knock it over. Maybe if it was broken, you’d give up on the missing person ad idea. He’d worried that you would just use your phone cameras instead, but Papa was convinced that the quality would not be good enough.

“It is quite alright, sir. Your hospitality is more than enough. In fact, I really ought to be on my way soon,” he finished, throwing a glance at you to gauge your reaction, feeling an odd spark of happiness when you sank down in your seat.

“No!” Matt cried. “I don’t want you to.”

He crossed his arms as if that solved everything. It did, however, soften Loki a little. As it turns out, he was very fond of the little guy. On Asgard he’d never had much time to spend with children, but it seemed like he had inherited his mother’s natural ability to be good with them. Inherited is the wrong word, actually, he bitterly thought to himself. She’s not your real mother, after all.

“Matt, if he wants to leave, we really should let him,” Mama scolded, with an almost hopeful expression.

“Actually, I do not see why I shouldn’t stay a bit longer,” Loki said, flashing a false grin at the woman. “There really is no rush, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she muttered. “No rush.”

“Well, Loki, since Matt has taken to you so well, maybe you’d like to watch him this afternoon?” Ana asked, pretending she didn’t hear Mama’s latest remark.

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded, surprised by the sincerity of that statement.

The family had still been avoiding giving Loki strenuous tasks, believing that he was just incredibly good at hiding his ailments. To keep up appearances, he pretended to have a particularly bad ache or pain every once in a while. Whenever he did, you’d instantly appear at his side and usher him to a seat. He’d try to get up, but you would tell him to stay put in your best stern tone, which he found rather adorable, though he’d never admit it. Then you’d fetch him a glass of water and watch over him for the next hour, or until you decided he was well enough to get up again.

Fifteen minutes later, it was time to start the day and everyone helped clear the table. Your family had made the process as efficient as possible. Mama and John would bring the dishes to Papa in the kitchen, who would hand them to you to put in the dishwasher after rinsing them off. Ana and Matt would put away all the leftovers and toppings from whatever had just been on the menu. Loki helped out where he could, but most days everyone besides Mama insisted he should take it easy, that he could help when he was fully healed. It was odd, he realized, that you were all planning on him being around that long. He felt that familiar, nagging, guilty feeling he’d been getting ever since he arrived. He was not a fan.

By the time Ana and John were ready to leave, Loki had already collected the eggs, the only daily chore he was given, and was ready to watch Matt. It was only as the boy was hugging his parents goodbye that Loki realized he wasn’t really sure what to do with the child for the next few hours. He was thankful that you seemed like you were planning on sticking around, too. It did make sense, he supposed, that they hadn’t completely trusted the boy with a near stranger.

“Aren’t you healthy, mommy?” Matt asked, clinging to Ana’s leg as she tried to get away. “Why do you have to go to the doctor?”

“Because you’re going to have a little brother or sister soon,” Ana explained in a sweet tone as she gently pried her son away. “Mommy and Daddy have to go to the doctor to make sure the baby is healthy.”

Loki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He had not yet realized that Ana was pregnant. She must not have been very far along because she wasn’t showing much yet. Though, now that he knew to look, the god could see a small baby bump. Based on Matt’s reaction, he was already aware that he’d have a sibling soon, but he still couldn’t quite grasp the concept of everything that went along with that.

“Will you be back soon?” Matt questioned, finally giving up his efforts to keep his parents where they were.

“In the blink of an eye, small fry,” John said, placing a kiss on his head.

That seemed to satisfy Matt, who wandered over to Loki and put his arms up, clearly looking to be picked up. He hesitated for a second before scooping up the boy. It wasn’t that he was afraid of dropping him, in fact he was sure he wouldn’t, but he’d never held a child before. Up until a few days ago, he wasn’t sure he even had the slightest inkling how to be nurturing. And then there was the whole problem of Matt becoming too attached. Not to mention the way you looked at him when he did held him. That soft gaze was a problem for sure.

“Alright,” you said once Ana and John were gone. “What do you want to do, buddy?”

“Hide and seek!” he shouted. Then he put his small, chubby hands on Loki’s cheeks and used his most serious tone. “You’ll never find me. I have the best hidey spots.”

Loki let out a nervous chuckle. Truth be told, he didn’t know how to play this game. When he and Thor were kids, they played run and attack, but he felt like this was probably not very comparable. Midgard was a very different place, after all.

“Just count to sixty and then come look for us. We’ll stay in the house,” you informed Loki as he passed Matt off to you. “Oh, and just shout out when you’re starting to look.”

“Thank you,” he replied, turning around to face the wall.

It was odd, he thought, that he seemed to have said thank you more in the past week than he had in the last century of his existence. He’d never meant to let himself get so bitter, but here he was stewing in that awful feeling. When the flash of anger receded, the God of Mischief realized he was face to face with a framed family tree. Highest up were pictures of couples he could only assume were your grandparents. Next line down was Mama, Papa, and their siblings. You and Ana were in the next row, and it struck him just how much you and your sister looked alike. Matt and John were there too, but the person that most captured his attention was your brother. The middle child, he guessed, since the picture was in between those of you and Ana. He gently ran his fingers over the looping gold cursive of James’s name. Loki loved a good mystery, but he needed clues and evidence to solve one. He knew next to nothing about the guy, other than that he’d been wearing his clothes for the past seven days.  

“I am starting to look now,” Loki awkwardly shouted, feeling self-conscious about seeming like he was talking to no one.

He thought he heard a small snort coming from one of the upper levels at his gawky declaration, so he headed up first. It felt odd to go rifling through things, so he mainly tried just to peer under furniture, though he did open a closet once or twice. He huffed and considered if he should venture into any of your rooms. If you weren’t there, though, he’d feel like he was intruding on something private and sacred. Hesitating with a hand hovering over the doorknob to your room, he noticed the attic hatch out of the corner of his eye. Standing still, he could hear a very subtle shuffling noise coming from above him, so either you were there, or you’d better call pest control.

As soon as he climbed the ladder, Matt started giggling, but Loki pretended he couldn’t hear. He loudly walked in between the boxes littering the floor, every once in a while dramatically peering around an old piece of furniture. It only made the laughs louder.

“Now where could they be?” he sighed in mock exasperation. “Maybe, they’re here!”

Then he jumped around the couch you were hiding behind and started tickling Matt. The boy squealed in delight and squirmed away. When Loki looked at you, he saw something shocking on your face. Admiration. It was something he’d longed for from so many people in his life, and here you were giving it so freely to him. He moved his gaze elsewhere before his mind could wander any further.

“What’s all the ruckus up here?” Mama asked, her head appearing from the door. After spotting Loki, her eyes narrowed. “Oh. It’s you.”

“We were just playing hide and seek, Mama. Don’t worry,” you said.

“Indeed. I must say, it is much fun,” Loki added, though more to annoy her than ease her mind.

“I’m sure,” she replied before taking Matt by the hand. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

You shot Loki an apologetic glance as you headed out after her. Once Matt’s snack was finished, Loki partook in some coloring. He was oddly pleased to know the little boy’s favorite color was green, and you seemed fairly partial to it, too. Ana and John returned roughly an hour later, and Loki finished the day by doing chores around the farm. Another thing he’d learned about himself was that he really didn’t mind doing manual labor. Growing up in the Royal Palace Valaskjalf, he never had to lift a finger to help cook or clean or do anything much besides training and lessons, really. Now he found himself almost eager to get into the kitchen for a cooking lesson with Papa or help out in the fields, the latter of which definitely had nothing to do with showing off for you.

He’d been on his way to the kitchen that evening sometime after dinner, his infamous sweet tooth bugging him again, when he heard Mama’s hushed voice.

“I’m telling you Earl, something about that boy just don’t sit right with me.”

“Come on, honey. He can’t even remember nothing. It’s our duty to help him out,” Loki heard Papa reply as he hid just outside the door.

“He may say he can’t remember, but I ain’t buying it. We should get him out soon as possible.”

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but there was nothing to stop him from feeling the sting of those words. He really should just leave; it had been his plan after all. As if they had a will of their own, Loki’s feet carried him away from the conversation, out the door, and off the porch. He never should have taken advantage of your family’s generosity. He regretted thinking about you, though, because it made his steps falter a bit. And then there was sweet little Matt. It hadn’t really hit him until now, but Loki actually enjoyed himself today. He couldn’t recall the last day he could say that about.

“I hope you weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye.”

The trickster god whirled around at the sound of your voice. He’d been too caught up in his tumultuous thoughts to notice you leaning on one of the porch’s posts.

“Certainly not,” he lied. “I just needed some fresh air is all.”

“In that case, I know the perfect place. Come on.”

You took his hand and led him away from your land. He tried not to pay attention to the feeling of your hand in his. In fact, he tried to block it out altogether, but to no avail. Eventually, you reached a peaceful creek and picked up a rock to skip.

“If I was going to leave,” he began after a few minutes of contemplative silence, “I really would be fine. I appreciate all that you and your family have done, truly, but perhaps it’s best if I go.”

“Look, I know you’re pretty much all healed up, but you still don’t remember anything. I cannot in good conscience let you out into the world like that.”

“I suppose that is fair. Your mother certainly does not agree with your assessment, though.”

You sighed. “If Mama’s the reason you feel you should go, please just ignore her. She means well and all, but... Well, let’s just say she has her reasons for acting this way,”

Loki said nothing but raised his eyebrows at you. One part of him felt bad to press you for more information, even if it was done without words. The much larger part of himself, however, was entirely too curious to not know.

“Okay, so remember when I told you about my brother?”

Loki nodded eagerly, ready to get some answers about what exactly had happened there.

“Well, he was... He was killed in an accident with a drunk driver a couple years ago,” you recounted, tearing up a little bit. “Mama had trust issues even before, but they’re much worse now.”

“I am so sorry, darling,” Loki said, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder, but not daring to go any further than that.

He felt bad for your loss, but right now there were major alarm bells going off in his head. He’d just called you darling. It wan’t even something he’d thought about doing, it just happened. That, coupled with the fact he cared how you were feeling, had him panicking. His plan to leave after a week was already out the window, but leaving at all was becoming harder to fathom by the day.

“It’s ok,” you replied, wiping a few errant tears off your cheeks. “It was a little while ago. I’m alright now. Really.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment as he awkwardly pat your shoulder, not really certain of the correct way to comfort someone. He wanted to say something else, but he wasn’t sure what.

“I think I had a brother!” he shouted, giving in to his desire to confide in you, but his web of lies making it impossible to tell the whole truth.

“We have to put that ad in the paper then. So he can find you.”

Little did you know how awful that situation would be for everyone involved. Still, it meant a lot that you cared, especially when you’d just been saddened at the memory of your own brother.

“Maybe, but I do not seem to think we had a very good relationship.”

“All the more reason then. You never know how long you have, so you should try to make amends.”

“Perhaps.”

You lapsed into silence again, not really sure where to go from there. By now, the sun had been down for a while and a chill was settling in the air. Loki noticed you shiver and shrugged off his hoodie.

“Here,” he embarrassedly mumbled, holding it out to you.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t,” you refused. “You’ll be cold then.”

“Nonsense,” he insisted, “I will be perfectly fine.”

You reluctantly agreed and pulled it on. Though it had only been in his possession for a short time, his scent had already claimed the soft fabric. He acted like his attention was averted elsewhere, but was actually watching you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t notice his gaze on you as you took a gentle sniff, trying to take as much of it in as possible. Sandalwood, leather and something otherworldly that you just couldn’t name, other than to call it heaven. He turned his head ever so slightly and you started sheepishly picking at your nails, hoping he hadn’t caught you. He expected to be appalled by the notion, but just found himself confused. Why would you enjoy something that was so distinctly him? Then he remembered you didn’t know the truth. That’s why he had to get out as soon as possible before he, or anyone else, got hurt.

“We should probably head back before it gets too late,” you said after a bit.

“I agree,” was all he replied.

As you walked away from the creek, he tried to leave the new feelings bubbling in him by the water, but they followed him all the way back to the house, and into his dreams that night.

#loki x you #loki x reader #loki x y/n #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #mcu loki #loki fluff #fluff #loki angst #angst #reader insert #gender netural reader #endgame timeline #loki multichapter #marvel #mcu #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #mcu reader insert #loki friggason #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #marvel multichapter

[sinnbaddie]

So, I saw a post by @stilena regarding this article;

https://m.ranker.com/list/why-sakura-doesnt-deserve-the-hate/anna-lindwasser

I’d like to debunk a few things from this article.

This doesn’t make sense in the slightest. First off, you say she’s not cruel to her friends, but then say her behavior towards Naruto could be improved? That’s very contradicting, and it seems like whoever wrote this article is trying to find evidence she’s a good friend when it’s quite the contrary.

“Other fans think she destroyed her friendship with Ino over a boy, but it had little to do with Sasuke...”

This is complete BS. They didn’t even try and find any other reason to give why Sakura broke her friendship off with Ino.

The main reason she destroyed her friendship with Ino, is because she found out Ino had a crush on Sasuke. They literally lied on an article to make her look better than she is, and saying “other fans think,” no, actual fans know what happened, and what fans know is that Sakura broke off her friendship with Ino because of Sasuke. There was no, “differentiation” in place at the time. Maybe when she was like 12-15 she wanted to be different, but it did not happen when she was 5.

They also contradict themself later in the article;

“...when she discovers Ino has had a longtime crush on Sasuke too, it quickly sours their relationship and fuels their rivalry...”

So, at first they say their friendship wasn’t broken off bc of Sasuke, then say it was the reason it soured? This whole article is very contradictory.

The whole rival thing is stupid as hell, too. Ino never wanted to be rivals, she wanted to stay friends. Also, comparing Sasuke and Naruto’s rivalry to Sakura’s and Ino’s is very rude to Naruto and Sasuke, seeing how Naruto and Sasuke actually cared about each other and were friends throughout it mostly.

Even when Ino and Sakura were “ok,” when Sai met Ino, Sakura was rooting for him to call Ino ugly. Who the fuck does that to someone who helped you and was friends with you? Someone who called you pretty, and kind, someone who genuinely valued your friendship?

Either way, Ino’s friendship with Sakura was destroyed because of Sakura having a crush on Sasuke, not because she wanted to differentiate from Ino.

“...learns he’s an enemy of the state and puts aside any personal feelings...”

What?? Puts aside her personal feelings? The only time she’s ever put “aside” her feelings is when she tries to kill him. She’s so bent on him acknowledging her that when she got stabbed by Madara in the war and he didn’t notice her, she whined about it in her head. It was stupid as hell to try and fight Madara 1v1, but if her sole purpose was to “distract” him I can get behind that, but the purpose was so Sasuke can notice her. She’s extremely shallow considering Sasuke.

I mean look at this shit; she’s so damn obsessed with him that not even a fucking war can keep her attention off of Sasuke.

“...to perform her ninja duties and protect her village.”

When Sasuke was leaving, she begged him if she could go with him. Protect the village? If Sasuke accepted her self invite, then she would be a rogue ninja, someone who detached from the village.

And it happened again when she went to kill him. Albeit that she was trying to make it seem like she would actually help him, but if Sasuke actually gave her the chance she would take it. Sasuke saw through her bullshit though because he’s not a fucking idiot like she assumed he was.

“...don’t get to see Sakura spend a lot of one-on-one time with Sasuke after the first few arcs, they do witness the evolution of Sakura’s feelings.”

How can Sakura’s feelings evolve if she never has one-on-one time with Sasuke? When do we witness her feelings evolve from just looks? When does Sasuke open up to her so her feelings can evolve? They can’t, we don’t, and he doesn’t. The only time we as viewers see Sakura’s feelings evolve, is when they start to become obsessive. These are not kind feelings, these are obsessive ones.

“Even fans who aren’t on the Sasusaku ship can appreciate how she handles her emotions.”

The only thing I appreciate is that Sasuke keeps denying her advances because he doesn’t want romance with her, which he’s stated multiple times. She never handles her emotions. Just in general, too. From her constantly crying, to her anger issues, her trait is being unable to handle them. I’ve never once met an anti ss fan who appreciates how she handles her emotions. This is absurd in it of itself.

“Sakura cares deeply for Sasuke, not because of his looks, but because of who he is.”

Sakura cares for her idea of Sasuke, not Sasuke himself. Like the quote above speaking on her “evolved feelings,” shes never shown to care about Sasuke’s well being, seeing how she tried to kill him. Again, Sasuke has never opened up to Sakura, only Itachi and Naruto, and they have the audacity to say Sakura cares about Sasuke because of who he is.

What does Sakura think of Sasuke as a person that isn’t what Sasuke shows to everyone who he doesn’t actually care for? She cares about his cool, calm, and collected personality? Was he so cool, calm, and collected whenever Naruto was brought up, or Itachi? Is it because he is quiet and reserved? Was he quiet and reserved when he was a child, before Itachi slaughtered their clan in front of him, 518,400 times? Does she care about his strength and smarts? Does she know he wanted to be intelligent and strong enough so he could kill Itachi? Does she know on a deeper level than just “I want to kill a certain man; I want revenge”?

No. Because Sasuke never let Sakura know the real him because he doesn’t care about her as much as Naruto, or Itachi. He never once thought about her throughout his years gone from the village in Pt.1 and Shippuden, while he thought of Naruto occasionally.

The truth of the matter is, Sasuke does not care about Sakura, his supposed wife, as much as he cares about Naruto, his best friend, someone he considers a brother.

“...she refuses to compromise her principles solely because she loves him.“

What principles are we talking about here? Didn’t she falsely confess to Naruto, drug him, Yamato, and Kakashi, and try and kill Sasuke on her own? Like I mentioned above, wasn’t she the one who idiotically charged Madara (someone she knew stomped the five kage, and who was basically a god at that point, too), and get stabbed for it, only to be upset that Sasuke didn’t notice her nor care about her wellbeing?

“She’s still her own person.”

Take away her crush with Sasuke she’ll be her own person. I’ll admit, in the beginning of Shippuden, she did well. Why? Because Sasuke wasn’t there and was barely mentioned. Kishimoto said in an interview that Sakura is obsessed with Sasuke (if someone can send me the interview It’d be much appreciated as I can’t find it as of now).

She’s only her own person when you take Sasuke out of the picture. Throughout both series her actions and intentions has been based around Sasuke. She isn’t her own person and it’s absurd to think of her as one when it’s shown time and time again she is not.

This whole article is complete bullshit, seeing how many of these “facts” are lies to make it seem like Sakura is some lovely person. She’s not, and she’s not a good person towards Sasuke either.

It’s ok to admit Sakura isn’t the best character nor person in Naruto, because she’s not. It’s fine to think Sakura as kind, and loving, but only in fanon. Canon Sakura is not what you, and the person who wrote this article is talking about.

You can like Fanon Sakura, but don’t dismiss that Canon Sakura is a jerk who is heavily involved with her own self and benefits, maybe not fully but in regards to “love, and friendship” she most definitely is.

#anti sakura haruno fandom #anti sakura uchiha #anti sakura haruno #anti sasusaku #pro sasuke uchiha #uchiha sasuke #sasuke uchiha #pro ino yamanaka #ino yamanaka #naruto #naruto shippuden #kingliho analyzes

[bakubaewritings]

Lost (4)

Warning Cursing 

(1)     (2)    (3)     5(coming soon)

If you’d like to be tagged in the next part feel free to comment or private message me <3

The air was thick with tension; it loomed over the two of you like a dark fog,  in complete silence. No one dared speak a word. Outside there was no sound of traffic or bird song, just silence.

"Y/n." Emotions consumed Todoroki all at once. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you in his arms. He missed you; he missed everything about you, how you smelled, how your skin felt against his, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips. Those long sorrow-filled weeks without you, without speaking a word to you after having you run out of his life, due to his fault.

"Get out," your voice was low and harsh. The coldness in your tone bitterly nipped at Todoroki's hopeful aura. His eyes began to swell with tears at her words.

"Y/n?" He beckoned again, walking over to the hospital bed. He craved your touch, the warmth that radiated off your skin was so much more than superficial. It warmed his heart; in your time together you had become his safe place. He found comfort in your voice and calmness in your eyes.

However, the look painted all on your face was not one of joy; it was rage and disgust.

"Get out, Todoroki." Your voice grew louder, down an octave as it fell to a low growl. He wanted to convince himself that you didn't mean him. However, he understood. You deserved to feel angry at him for his actions; he would be fooling himself to think you'd ever be able to forget and forgive.

"I know you want me to go, but hear me out Y/n, please." His hands balled to fists at his sides. Heat radiated off him in waves as his emotions began to fule into his quirk. The way his heart pounded against his ribcage rang in his ears. Shoto had never been one to show so much emotion, he was always calm and cool, however when it came to you, maybe he wouldn't demonstrate it, but you were what connected him to his genuine emotions. You had introduced him to emotions he'd never felt in his life. You had become his gravity, the center of his whole world. You kept him human, while still pushing him to follow his dreams, something he'd never really had as a child.

You stayed silent, biting down on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to distract yourself from the urge to begin sobbing. You refused to look him in the eye; to you his eyes only held betrayal. You'd already spent the entire summer attempting to scrub away the image of Shoto and Momo. You didn't need a reminder.

"I betrayed your trust, and I know that . I was an awful partner ,and you have every right to be upset and angry at me. I know me simply saying sorry will not erase the situation; what I did was unforgivable, but for what it is worth Y/n L/n I am so sorry, I never met to hurt you at all." There was a brief pause, Todoroki swallowed the lump in his throat. It took every bit of strength to hold back his tears. He made his way towards you; his gaze never left your face as your eyes desperately tried to keep starting at objects around the room.

"Y/n you know me, you know me better than anyone. You know how much I love you, and I'd never do anything to hurt you purposefully." He was next to you, knees firmly on the ground.  You could feel his quirk radiating off him in polar temperatures. His face burned in the white hospital sheets that clung to your lap.

"You didn't kiss her." The words fell from your lips as clarity began to paint your thoughts. Shoto hadn't properly hugged a girl that wasn't in his immediate family before you, he was always reserved and respectful, never one to demonstarte so much emotion, especially kissing a fellow classmate in a dormitory gym. It was completely and utterly out of character for the bi-hair colored boy.

"I'd never, disrespect you like that Y/n." His words muffled against the sheets, you could feel his burning skin through the thin fabric as the heat began to dance on your thigh. "I love you."

There they were, for the first time in what had now been months you'd finally heard him utter those three words. You'd remember how patently you waited for him to feel comfortable enough to understand the feeling of love between two people that were more than just friends.

"Forgive me for assuming it was mutual but you can't blame me Todoroki, You became so distant from me. All it became was Momo this and Momo that. How was I supposed to feel?"

His head shifted from your lap. He looked up at you with small tears wetting his long lashes. "I have no explanation, to be quite honest, I was oblivious. I should have taken your feelings into account, you were always so patient and understanding, and I took advantage of that. I assumed you didn't need me as much to help you, and when Yaoyorozu asked for my help, I just wanted to be kind, just like you. You're always putting others before you, helping people with everything you can. It's the quality of a true hero, an amazing hero. I wanted to be like you." You'd be lying to yourself if you said his words did not affect you. No, every sentence was another tug at your heartstrings.

" I did notice we weren't spending as much time together, and I didn't like it either. I let another girl occupy the time I should have been giving to you. The one girl who's been by my side through it all. I have no excuse for what I did, I know it was incredibly wrong, but please Y/n, I love you. Give me another chance." Your hands, so petite compared to his much larger frame, came to cup the sides of his head lovingly. However, that was also when you noticed it, the diamond that shone brightly on your finger, placed on there by his own brother.

Dabi, Todoroki Touya. The man who had comforted you in the last days, a man who you'd grown incredibly close to, a man who you were to marry.

Unfortunately, the cold band did not go unnoticed by the youngest Todoroki either. He flinched away from it in confusion. He was peering down at it in a clear face of disdane.

"Y/n?" It sounded more of a warning than a question. Like a desert, your words had dried out in your troat. Your mind only drew blanks. How were you going to explain that you were to marry his brother?

The sound of the door creeking open tore your attention from one another.

"Hey, little brother, finally decided to make a comeback." An apparent scowl was on full display on Dabi's face as he walked into the room, a white paper bag in hand, letters decortating the bag displaying the name of your favorite restaurant.

"Touya? What are you doing here?"

"Bringing food for my Fiance." He said nonchalantly. Oh, how you wanted to smack him square in the face. The atmosphere changed into a hostile one. Shoto's eyes looked as if they were to pop out of his head at the moment.

"Fiance?" He asked blankly. His face was fully corrupted with anger and confusion.

"Yep, you can ask the old man about more details, but after you graduate this little cutie is gonna be the next Mrs. Touya Todoroki."  Your mouth hung open, every word of of Dabi's mouth was laced with venom. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under his perfect little brother's skin.

"What the hell is going on? Y/n?" He looked at you for any sort of answer, he hoped you'd just laugh it off as a joke. A hilarious way to make him feel awful for what had happened, but when you gave no such indication of a joke he knew. This was real.

"I.." You couldn't speak. No string of words that formed in your brain were coherent. There was nothing you could say that would fix the situation. Of course, you had to tell him all this eventually, but this was way too soon.

"Someone explain what the hell is going on?" A deep growl came from Shoto as he glared daggers at Dabi.

"Why don't you leave Shoto, Y/n needs to rest. She doesn't need you here with your petty apologizes."

'Dabi." You let out a gasp at his words.

"You leave Touya. You have no part in this. Y/n is mine."  The two men advanced at each other, getting into a fighting stance.

"Shoto, Dabi stop!" You pleaded with the two boys. The gap between them getting smaller, ready to use their quirks against each other at any minute. Shoto's right side had begun to cover in a thin sheet of frost, while the left began to heat up. Dabi, on the other hand, his aura turned dark as a blue glow emitted from his hands.

"Enough!" You shouted out, now using your quirk to gather any water from the room and using a technique to shape it as tentacles and pull both boys apart from each other.

"Dabi, Shoto and I are going to have to talk about this. This is sooner than I'd would have wanted, but It's going to happen." You huffed, at the dark hair colored boy, turning to Shoto, "we may have a lot of talk about, and you will get an explanation, but both of you need to control yourselves and not try to kill each other! Now can I please get discharged then we can go to Endavour and, he will explain everything because I'm, not wasting my breath talking about this whole bullshit anymore!" Wide eyes stared at you, as your voice rose in anger. You were annoyed, you couldn't seem to catch a break. You just wanted to disappear.

Pent up anger and frustration towards everything had been coming undone just by seeing  Shoto.

"I'm so over this bullshit!" Never one to curse, never one to raise your voice, always the perfect little lady. The facade was coming undone.

"I can't catch a god damn break; when everything seems to be going okay another damn brick is thrown my fucking way. I'm just trying to get better, does no one care how I feel?" Your voice was getting louder by the second. A crowd of people, doctors, nurses, and even your fellow classmates were at your door.

"Does no one care I had no time to grieve? Does That asshole of a god damn man take pleasure in fucking with my future? Does my own family really care more about our god damn imagine than to let me actually live and be myself?" To be honest, eveyone had faded from your eyes. All you see was an empty red color as you continued to rage.

"Grieve?" The word played in Shoto Todoroki's head like a broken record. Grieving what? He asked himself.

You hadn't realized, but you were standing now, your water tentacles wrapped around the men's torsos tightening with your quirk.

"Doll, calm down now, please. It's getting a little too tight." Dabi struggled to attempt to wiggle out of the grip.

"Too tight!?" You know what's tight?" You yelped, hot tears falling from your cheeks. "This god damn burden, I have pushed my god damn chest inward. I'm going insane!"You cried, falling to the ground. You lost your control on your quirk, and the water splashed into the ground.

Shoto's mind was moving 50 miles a second in attempting to understand what was going on. Had you felt a burden for being engaged to his brother? Surely he knew his father was responsible, but why you had agreed to, he still coudn't understand. Nevertheless, he was first to rush to your side. Falling against his chest, you laid silent, letting your tears finish falling.

Crying, felt like the only thing you could do for these last months.

"Let's get you home. Okay, let's get you out of this place." Shoto whispered softly in your ear, brushing yout hair back so you can bury your face deeper in his chest. He couldn't lie, having you this close again, this made his heart sore.

Now Dabi could only stand and watch holding back his own emotions as the girl he'd come to love fell right back into the arms of the man you truly belonged with.

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha imagines #mha #mha todoroki #bnha todoroki #bnha shoto x reader #bnha shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha series #mha series #series #my hero academia #dabi my hero academia #my hero imagines #my hero academy fanfiction #boku no hero manga #boku no hero fanfic

[halfwall]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❪ ⠀   * ⠀ ─          hello!  i’m  so  excited  for  this  genuinely,  it  is  so  seksi  and  socks  +  soda  did  such  an  amazing  job  with  it.  eunjung  is  my  newest  muse  and  the  best  way  i  can  describe  her  is  if  you  took  a  garden  snake  and  aged  it  up  manually  in  the  sims  and  then  took  it  into  the  spore  game  and  gave  it  lips  and  made  it  a  predator.  in  other  words,  my  very  own  looks  like  a  cinnamon  roll  could  k-word  you  (  kiss?  kill?  your  choice  <3  ).  this  intro  is  a  condensed  version  of  my  goog  dooc  and  it’s  still  long  <3  pls  love  n  plot  w  me  anyway.  love  u  guys.

❪  kang  mina,  cis  woman,  she  /  her,  twenty  one.  ❫    i  can  feel  red  energy,  that  must  be  yun  eunjung.  the  third  year  print  journalism  &  international  relations  major  works  as  a  bookkeeper  at  the  house  of  the  lucky  gander,  and  is  known  around  the  manor  as  the  yellow  wallpaper.  i’ve  heard  whispers  about  how  they’re  critical  and  pedantic,  but  everyone  says  they’re  persevering  and  formidable.  i  don’t  know  what  to  believe...  but  with  cc  pulling  the  strings...

links:    google  doc,  pinterest,  stats,  wanted  connections.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

full  name  :  yun  eunjung

nickname(s) /  alias(es)  :  emma  yoon  (  english  name,  not  used  ),  tbd

age  /  dob  :  twenty  one  /  apr  18  ‘99

hometown  :  tbd  ,  oregon

current  location :  fortuna  ,  maine

ethnicity :  korean

nationality  :  english

gender  :  cis  woman

pronouns  :  she  /  her

orientation  :  bisexual

religion :  agnostic.

family :  yun  hajun  (  father,  alive  ),  han  minji  (  mother,  alive  ),  yun  eunsang  (  twin  brother,  status  unknown  ),  yun  sangjung  (  younger  brother,  deceased  ).

face  claim  :  kang  mina

language(s)  spoken  :  korean  (  first  language  ),  english

speech :  sharp  tongued.  she’s  a  lot  of  opinions  and  a  lot  of  things  to  say,  therefore  has  never  learned  how  to  phrase  things  in  a  way  that  would  deem  her  polite.  often  blunt,  she’ll  be  quick  to  rip  off  the  bandaid  and  just  say  what  needs  to  be  said.  she  doesn’t  speak  with  much  class  or  extravagancies,  rather  falls  toward  crassness  and  crudeness  due  to  her  upbringing.

hair  :  quite  dark,  a  nice  chocolate  in  the  sun  and  a  cool  onyx  in  the  dark.  often  tied  back,  though  eunjung  is  only  ever  seen  with  her  hair  in  two  distinct  styles:  tied  back  messily  or  let  down  naturally.  her  hair  falls  straight  as  if  it’s  been  flat  ironed.

eyes :  big,  round,  and  doe  eyed,  a  dark  brown  in  color.  quite  the  weapon  to  use  when  she’s  in  trouble  or  when  she  needs  to  talk  her  way  out  of  something  (  to  proclaim  innocence  ).

height  :  five  feet  ,  seven  inches.

build  :  lithe.  as  a  former  volleyball  player,  she  has  kept  her  shape  up  with  rigorous  conditioning  (  mainly  because  if  she’s  to  admit  it,  if  she  doesn’t  she  kind  of  gets  lost  in  the  walls  ).

tattoos  :  none  .

piercings :  only  earlobes  .

scars  :  multiple  from  surgeries  at  sixteen.

clothing  style  :  preppy,  thanks  to  her  settlement  money  and  her  own  personal  taste.  never  a  hair  out  of  place  due  to  her  perfectionistic  personality  and  nature,  though  if  you  catch  her  on  any  given  night,  you’ll  see  her  true  colors  shine  through  with  old  (  very  old  )  sweatpants  and  a  hoodie  that  has  someone  else’s  name  written  on  the  tag  in  hangul.

usual  expression  :  sour,  bitter  –  life  has  handed  her  a  poor  hand  and  she’ll  make  it  everyone’s  problem.  she  has  one  usual  expression  and  it’s  resting  mean  face;  not  the  kind  of  person  to  wear  her  heart  on  her  sleeve,  she  looks  the  exact  same  when  she  looks  happy  as  she  does  sad,  though  –  she’s  great  at  acting  and  lying  and  you’ve  never  lived  until  you’ve  watched  her  go  from  :|  to  :)  in  two  seconds.

distinguishing  characteristics  :  doe  eyes  that  scream  tragedy  –  reflecting  the  stars  in  the  night  sky  if  caught  just  right,  the  tilt  of  her  lips  when  she  clearly  wants  something  to  work  in  her  favor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

❪  almost  directly  copied  from  my  google  doc  i’m  sorry  ❫ 

mbti:   istj-a,  the  logistician  /  most  who  know  her  would  assume  her  to  be  extroverted.  not  the  most  reserved  in  a  room  and  always  quick  to  speak  up  when  she  deems  it  necessary.  but,  like  most  logisticians  –  she’s  always  had  a  sharp,  fact-based  mind.  she  has  always  been  self  sufficient  and  hates  relying  on  others,  often  seeing  it  as  a  weakness.  she  is  sharp,  dedicated  and  ambitious  enough  to  accomplish  whatever  she  wants  to  accomplish.

enneagram:  6w5,  the  guardian  /  like  most  of  this  type,  her  biggest  fear  is  losing  her  guidance  and  stability,  which  translates  into  her  skepticism  of  the  world.  therefore,  it  often  leads  to  eunjung  protecting  those  she  is  loyal  to,  but  most  importantly:  herself.  she  will  often  think  logically  and  analytically,  solving  problems  practically  and  efficiently  but  she  will  often  be  selfish  and  can  come  off  as  cold  as  a  result  for  her  actions.

moral  alignment:  chaotic  evil  /  eunjung  has  never  been  the  most  –  angelic  person,  though  she  likes  to  pretend  she  is.  at  the  end  of  the  day,  after  everything  she  has  been  through,  she  has  grown  to  be  selfish  –  prioritizing  her  own  personal  gain  and  pleasure  above  all  good  and  evil,  right  and  wrong.  it  could  be  argued  that  she  belongs  in  chaotic  neutral,  but  she  has  no  care  for  law  and  order,  nor  a  real  feeling  of  her  morality  anymore.

hogwarts  house:  slytherin  /  another  reminder  of  her  selfishness  and  how  much  she  cares  about  her  own  well  being.  all  her  life  as  well,  she  has  been  told  that  she  is  shrewd  and  too  ambitious  for  her  own  good  which  has  only  given  her  an  incessant  drive  to  prove  them  all  wrong.  when  it  comes  down  to  it,  like  most  slytherins,  she  will  try  to  view  every  possible  outcome  until  she  finds  the  outcome  that  will  benefit  her  the  most.

comparable  characters:  juliet  capulet  (  romeo  &  juliet  ),  jennifer  check  (  jennifer’s  body  ),  rosalie  hale  (  twilight  ),  blair  waldorf  (  gossip  girl  ),  sansa  stark  (  game  of  thrones  ).

the  rundown:  as  smart  as  she  is  selfish,  life  has  just  twisted  her  to  be  a  bit  cold.  she  isn’t  cruel  by  any  means,  nor  does  she  necessarily  wish  hurt  and  evil  upon  those  around  her,  but  eunjung’s  huge  main  character  complex  often  leads  to  her  priorities  being:  1.  eunjung  2.  yun eunjung  3.  eunjung yun.  her  biggest  trait  will  always  be  selfishness,  followed  closely  by  her  rash  belief  that  she  is  the  best  in  the  room  at  all  times.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞

trigger  warnings:  alcoholism  +  death

this  is  a  rundown  on  the  biography  /  death  /  back  room  /  glass  person  in  the  google  doc,  also  better  written  /  explained  because  it’s  not  prosey  <3

hajun  is  not  a  good  father,  he  never  has  been.  from  a  very  young  age,  all  eunjung  has  heard  from  him  are  his  drunken  spirals  about  how  great  they  used  to  be.  his  surname  was  once  held  in  a  high  regard,  the  name  of  an  empress  and  he  has  always  dwindled  about  to  the  three  yun  children  that  because  of  the  greatness  he  has  passed  onto  them,  they  must  be  great  too.  

eunjung  has  only  ever  viewed  his  spiels  as  hypocritical  though.  she  has  only  ever  known  her  dad  as  a  mean  drunk  who  lives  in  the  dirtiest,  most  run  down  house  in  town  with  his  poor  three  kids.  her  twin  brother,  eunsang,  her  younger  brother,  sangjung,  and  her  spend  their  childhoods  taking  care  of  each  other  because  nobody  else  will.  their  mother  does  something,  they  never  know  what  because  she  only  arrives  with  enough  money  for  groceries  and  bills  and  then  she  leaves.

it’s  that  way  for  most  of  her  childhood  and  most  of  her  life.  it’s  a  continuous  cycle  of  eunjung  +  eunsang  taking  care  of  sangjung  (  who  starts  going  my  samuel  when  he’s  ten  and  the  twins  are  twelve.  the  twins  have  english  names,  too,  but  eunjung  has  too  much  pride  –  like  her  father  –  and  eunsang  is  the  eldest  and  will  do  whatever  his  twin  does  out  of  love  )  and  eunjung  is  just  –  quite  the  difficult  child.  she  speaks  her  mind  and  all  of  her  opinions,  as  well  as  letting  the  festering  anger  within  her  too  grow  because  she  doesn’t  know  what  else  to  do  with  it.

death  tw.  anyway,  by  sixteen,  she’s  just  this  bitter  girl  that  the  boys  hook  up  with  because  she’s  the  poor  girl  from  the  dirty  house  on  the  rundown  street.  she’s  got  a  reputation  as  a  shrew  around  town,  but  she’s  fine  with  being  a  shrew  if  she  still  gets  her  way.  samuel  is  much  more  popular  than  either  of  the  twins  (  who  are  epitome  of  bad  boy  /  bad  girl  from  the  wrong  side  of  the  tracks  )  and  is  invited  to  a  party  at  fourteen.  it’s  tradition  to  party  in  this  abandoned  mansion  out  in  the  woods  and  basically,  an  accident  happens  and  samuel  is  pushed  from  the  second  story  balcony  into  the  foyer  and  d-words.

he’d  called  eunjung  before  dying  though,  asking  for  a  ride  so  the  twins  had  went  to  go  get  him  but  instead  found  him  dead.  while  trying  to  figure  out  what  had  happened,  she  spots  some  kid  that  doesn’t  like  her  still  lingering  around  so  she  tries  to  chase  him  and  he....  like....  pushes  her  off  too  and  she  d-words.  end  tw.

her  back  room  is  just  this  little  room  and  she  still  to  this  day  doesn’t  know  how  much  time  she  spent  in  there  because  it  was  just  so  confusing,  all  she  remembers  is  that  she  (  or  someone  )  was  trying  to  convince  herself  that  she  was  home  and  that  everything  was  fine.  but,  she’s  a  bitch  and  was  like  “uh,  actually,  i’ve  never  had  a  home  <3″  and  broke  out  of  whatever  spell.

her  glass  person  is  just  her.  identical,  but  trapped  in  the  walls  underneath  the  ugly  yellow  wallpaper  in  the  room  she  was  in.  same  as  her,  just  more  lifeless  and  it  is  really  the  only  thing  that  still  scares  her  –  and  it  tried  to  escape  the  walls,  but  it  couldn’t.  the  lasting  effect  is  that  if  she’s  alone  in  a  room  for  more  than  an  hour  she  swears  the  walls  start  stretching  like  someone’s  behind  it  and  just  always  feeling  like  she’s  being  watched.  she  also  doesn’t  like  looking  at  her  own  reflection  that  much  anymore  because  it  just  reminds  her  of  her  glass  person.

anyway,  she  survives  miraculously  and  after  testifying  and  blah  blah  blah  (  i  did  research  on  settlements  and  i  still  didn’t  understand  so  ),  the  family  of  the  kid  who  pushed  her  off  –  and  probably  samuel  –  gives  the  yun  family  a   huge  sum  of  money  for  their  troubles  and  calls  it  a  settlement.  it  comes  with  the  condition  that  eunjung  doesn’t  sue  or  bring  them  up  ever  again  and  she’s  like  fine  that’s  cool,  whatever,  i’m  rich  now.

but  her  parents  still  aren’t  happy  and  before  samuel’s  funeral,  eunsang  runs  away  from  home,  leaving  them  with  only  the  daughter  that  neither  of  them  really  wanted.  she  still  pushes  forward  though  and  ends  school  as  valedictorian,  prom  queen,  etc.  and  heads  to  fortuna  because  she  really  doesn’t  think  she  can  go  anywhere  and  also  her  counselors  are  ass  <3

she’s  studying  international  relations  +  print  journalism,  her  hopes  are  diplomacy  or  something,  but  she  just  chose  the  majors  that  she  tested  highest  on  on  that  career  test  i  can’t  choose.  yeah.

please  plot  w  me  i  have  my  wc  linked  up  there  or  at  /w.  i  love  u  all  i’m  sorry  this  was  long.

#coreintro

[dolce-peach]

Em, darling, unspoken was perfect,so calm and fluff *chef's kiss* could you please write another part with loki's pov trying to figure out his feelings for reader? Or any direction you want. Please give more of your fluff, it's perfect ❤️

unspoken [part 2]

pairing: loki x avenger!reader

warnings: fluff with a hint of angst

a/n: awww thank you so much anon!  i’m so glad you liked it ❤️ also i’m pretty sure the gif above is tom breaking character but idc he’s absolutely adorable fight me -- hope you enjoy!

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

You confused Loki in all senses of the word.

From the moment he met you, he knew you were different.  You didn’t look at him with fear or disgust, only the possibilities of who he really was.  Unlike most of Asgard, you didn’t care whether he was a prince or not, or whether he was next in line for the throne.

He was confused the moment you offered him tea that night.  He couldn’t help but watch you with a different spark in his eye.  He couldn’t believe that he was interested in a mere human.

You were supposed to be a dumb mortal, someone only interested in materialistic gains and mankind’s constant conquest.  

Instead, you were kind.  

Just kind.

He frowned as he saw you crack a smile and laugh.  “What’s so funny?”

Your laugh was music.

“Nothing!  I just never expected to see a god in sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

He couldn’t help but blush madly.  It wasn’t his fault he had brought nothing else to wear.  Thor often asked him to come to Earth on a rather short notice, so needless to say, he was always unprepared.

“Well, it’s quite comfortable,” he scoffed.  “And you didn’t expect me to stay dressed like that all the time, did you?”

“I suppose not,” you replied as you leaned against the counter.

He found himself watching you in awe.  You were unapologetically kind and incredibly innocent.  How could the two of you ever become friends, when he was secluded, reserved, and insecure?

The tea soothed his throat, driving the insomnia away.  He couldn’t remember feeling this peaceful since before he was recruited by Thanos and the Other.  It was something he never liked to think about, and could never bring himself to talk about with anyone.

He watched as you took his cup away and cleaned everything.  

“Um, thank you again,” he said.

You shook your head.  “Anytime.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

His eyes widened a bit, seeing your confusion.  

“Well...usually people scream or glare or something.  They think I’ll kill them the next instant or freeze them forever,” he explained quickly.

He looked away, blushing.  

Loki, you idiot.

“I don’t think you’re so bad,” you said.  “Misunderstood, yes, but you’re not a bad guy.”

Once again, you left him stunned.

--

When he went back to his room that night, he lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  His soul was at rest, but his mind was alive as the day.

He shook his head, turning onto his side.  There was absolutely no way he could’ve fallen so hard and so fast for a human.

He frowned.  Was this how Thor felt when he met Jane?

He turned onto the other side, disgusted with the fact that he was comparing himself to his brother.

Needless to say, his world was turned upside down.

Just when he thought you couldn’t surprise him anymore than you already did, he discovered your beautiful sketches.

He thought it was cute you were embarrassed.  It was almost like catching a child in the act.  Your innocent expressions and shy awkwardness made his heart ache for something more than just friendship.

He discovered you wanted to draw him, and only him.

From that day on, he vowed to protect you at all costs.

With that promise, came worries and nightmares.  

Worrying whenever you were on a mission was completely normal, even for fellow teammates, but if you received even a scratch, he could feel himself grow feral.  Of course, he would annihilate the enemy, but it took you and only you to calm him down.

The nightmares were even worse.  

His mind delved into the deepest darkest scenarios.  You ended up dead in his arms almost every time, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.

Everything seemed so real, that when he woke up, he couldn’t help but scream.

He could still feel your blood on his hands, soaking into his skin.  His breath continued to run away, his chest growing tight.  His panting slowly turned into quiet sobs.

He heard a quiet knock at his door.  

“Loki?”

It was you.

He quickly opened the door and engulfed you in a tight hug, trembling as he held you.

“Loki,” you whispered, nudging him back inside and closing the door behind you as you hugged his waist.  “What’s wrong?  I heard you from next door.”

When you received no reply, you only continued to hold onto him gently.  You breathed in his warm scent in the darkness of the room.

He pressed a kiss into your hair.  “I’m sorry I woke you,” he said.  “It’s just a nightmare.”

You pulled back, cradling his face.  “Want to talk about it?”

He sighed before looking away.  

“I’ve been having dreams of Thanos killing everyone and everything.  He destroyed Earth.”  There were tears in his eyes.  “He killed you in front of me, Y/N, and I couldn’t stop him.”

He could see fear flash in your eyes before you gave him a small smile.  “Well, I’m here now, right?”

He slowly nodded.

“He can’t get you anymore,” you said quietly as you held his hands.  “I won’t let him.”

Loki smiled, his lips brushing against your forehead.  

You walked him back to his bed and sat on the side as he lay down.  He closed his eyes as you stroked his hair.  He loved the rhythmic feeling of your fingers touching him softly.

“Try to sleep, okay?” you whispered.

“Can you stay with me?” he found himself asking.

You caught his blue-green gaze.  “Of course.”

He scooted over, allowing you to snuggle in next to him.  He easily turned and wrapped his arms around you.  You turned towards him, looking into his eyes.

“I love you.”

Three words he had never said in his life, not even to his late mother.  He himself couldn’t believe the words came out in such a sincere, genuine expression.  All his life, he thought he was incapable of love, but having you in his arms was enough to make him believe.

When you smiled, his cold heart shattered.

“I love you too.”

He couldn’t help but grin, touching your cheek softly as he did so.  

And as you closed your eyes, settling in his arms, he watched you breathe deeply until he fell asleep.

--

When he woke up the next morning, you were still fast asleep in his arms.  He studied the gentle morning sun hitting your hair, making you glow like an angel. Your lips were slightly parted.

You were softly clutching onto his t-shirt.

Loki smiled as he lifted some stray strands of hair out of your face.  You squirmed and snuggled deeper into his chest, trying to hide away from the sun.

“Five more minutes,” you murmured.

He chuckled.  “You can have all the time in the world.”

“Good,” you breathed.  “Sleepy...”

He stroked your hair.  “Thank you for last night.”

You pulled back and smiled sleepily.  “Always,” you said.  “Did you mean it?”

He furrowed his brow.  “Mean what?”

A blush played with your cheeks.  “You said you loved me.”

“Of course,” he said.  

You closed your eyes, holding his hand close to your chest.  “Good...” you said before falling back asleep.

He was certain you could probably hear his heartbeat, but at that moment, he didn’t care.  

He wanted the moment to last forever.

#anonymous #request #anon #soft loki #loki #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #loki x you #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers #marvel #mcu #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu fanfiction #cameo #thor #fluff #unspoken

[toloveawarlord]

Pt. 3

Characters: Alara & Mansion Residents

Tagging: @plumpblueberry @ihavenotfallenyet @claire-maccarthy @littlewitty

A/N: Wow this took a ton of time and I rewrote scenes multiple times. I have mapped out the rest of this mini-series and it will be about 8 chapters long. Give or take a little bit!

Their opinions differed.

Split.

Arguments covering all the options of how to handle their tiny guest. Arthur, Vincent, and Napoleon siding on the best choice being for her to stay with them. She would be protected, safe, and happy. Jean, Mozart, and Sebastian were erring on the side of caution, finding all the reasons it would be wrong for her to remain. The rest of the residents were undecided.

Comte sat at the head of the table, no indication of his own thoughts on steeled features. Eventually, it would fall upon him to make the final decision as the owner of the mansion. Having his residents in disarray over a single human child, no matter how tragic her plight, simply wouldn’t do. She’d left quite a mark on the ones who had met her.

“Would it not be best to send the little mademoiselle to an orphanage? She’d be cared for, fed, sheltered, adopted into a permanent home,” Jean said. He’d only see the stepfather and he did sympathize, but this environment was most dangerous for a child.

Arthur gave a breathy laugh, waving his hand to dismiss the idea. “It’s unlikely that she’d last a week in a place like that. Her mother was bought, and that threat continues to loom over her. She’ll be eaten alive in an orphanage.” The mere idea of subjecting her to more trauma set a frown on the writer’s lips.

“Poor choice of words, Arthur. She’d be eaten alive here if one of us lost control.” The sour pianist hadn’t even laid eyes on the girl, but the presence of a child could bring adverse effects. What if she caused a ruckus when he was creating? All he knew of children was they’re loud and insatiable.

Isaac’s gaze flickered between the opposite parties. Both had their valid hypothesis of the outcomes of her staying, and yet... “If you’d met her, Mozart, you’d surely have reservations in throwing her out. We have a steady supply of rouge and blanc.” He’d consider it an outlier to say that their vampire state is the largest threat to her safety. Isaac couldn’t, in good conscious, send Alara off after seeing her carefree smile surface with them.

“I’m in agreement,” Vincent spoke up. Cerulean blue eyes downcast at his hands, the lingering feeling of her trembling body against his own ever present. The reason unclear, but the painter wished to protect her from the world that sought to harm her.

Sebastian cleared his throat, his opinion on the matter he thought irrelevant. “I believe it will be your decision, M. Le Comte. What action do you advise we take concerning our little guest?” He would honor whatever Comte decided.

All attention fell onto the pure blood at the head of the table, many of them wearing their emotions clearly on their faces. The truth being that an orphanage would not treat her kindly, but with so many residents against her stay, the most comparable choice was to place her in a family that he trusted to be good for her.

“I’ve a suggestion,” Theo interrupted, having remained neutral and quiet for most of the conversation. He’d only met the girl briefly, and the facts of their nature as vampires posed a real threat, and yet, humans could be just as dangerous. The situation a heavy one. “We should take a couple of days to deliberate on it.”

Dazai hummed in response but began to nod his head in agreement. “A rushed decision could result in a wrong choice. That man might simply claim her from an orphanage, and her fate could twist into more pain.”

“We shall keep Alara in our care until we can ensure her a home that will be suitable. Whether that be here, or elsewhere.” Comte spoke at last, bringing a swift end to their meeting. Tension and emotions were still high from the confrontation only hours earlier. All needed to reflect and rest.

As for himself, Comte went to visit their guest. He assured Napoleon that no reason remained for a guard. Oscar wouldn’t dare return so soon after his talk, if at all. The snake of a man had accepted the generous donation and returned to his hole. Shutting the door soundlessly, Comte turned his attention to the soft whines coming from beneath the comforter.

“Calm your fears. No harm shall come to you here, mon petite cherie.” Words laced with comfort and full of protection. He brushed his fingers through silky locks of black hair until the pained expression calmed. Had this child ever known a night of rest without nightmares since coming to France?

No real solution had been settled. His house in partial disarray. A little girl in a precarious situation where she would likely be subjected to more pain before this ended. Comte draped his overcoat over the back of the armchair before settling in it.

Finding any home for her was a simple job. His connections were endless but nowhere fitting the standard of life that he could provide for her. Any upper-class French couple would only treat a foreign child as lesser than. He refused to send her to anywhere less than a home that could give her anything her heart desired.

Yet, keeping her here held a great risk. A household full of vampires. The secret could be kept easily if no one bit her, at least until she was old enough to know. But children were reckless and hurt themselves easily. One slip and she could end up dead. Though he trusted each and every one of his residents and believed them to be careful enough to keep her safe, accidents were a possibility.

How would she effect the balance?

Too many variables and at the center was a little girl who had already made her way into his heart. Comte had no children of his own, and his experience with children limited. Never once had he desired to care for one until he saw those pale green eyes change from fearful to full of life. He couldn’t bring himself to fully give in to her if it meant disrupting the other residents.

He only intended to rest his eyes. Thoughts enraptured in problems stacking upon problems with less solutions to fight against them. The raging storm outside reflected within his own mind. The longer they kept her, the harder it would be for her to part with them. The right answer alluding him at every turn.

Morning light spilled over into the bedroom, bringing warmth to the room. Sky without any lingering dark clouds of the intense storm. Birds chirped a happy tune, signaling a better day than the one before. Even the sun peeking over the horizon gave a promise to be brighter and warmer.

Comte awoke to the serene moment, content to simply listen to the birds sing beyond the windowpane for a little longer. As he moved to shift his legs, a weight that hadn’t been there the previous night prohibited it. Golden eyes slid open, unsure of what to expect.

Beneath a silken blanket, Alara sat on his lap, cheek pressed against him. Her breathing soft but she slept soundly, clutching his other arm to her as if it were her only lifeline. Black hair messy and tangled from the blanket shifting around it. Either the storm or her nightmares had woken her, and she chose to seek comfort with him.

“You’ve seen too much for your age,” Comte spoke quietly to her, petting her head. There were quite a few problems with her being in the mansion, but perhaps he could smooth them all over. As he lifted his palm to stroke her hair again, the girl woke with a start.

Pale green eyes wide with fright and confusion. She tried to slide away from him, memory fuzzy. Most mornings in her home had been lonely, and if anyone were there, it did not bode well for her. Without realizing, Alara had pulled away too much and slipped nearly completely off his legs.

Comte reacted inhumanly quick, leaning forward and catching her before she fell into the floor. “You’re alright, Alara. No more harm will come to you,” he assured as he placed her back onto his lap. “We slept a little late this morning. I’m confident that breakfast is waiting.”

The fear lingering in her eyes began dissipating and, in its place, a bit of anticipation. Her eyes flickered to the door as someone rapped on it before opening it. The way she recoiled to hide herself from view was bittersweet. Her openness to be comfortable with Comte, yet afraid of it crumbling down around her.

“I have purchased clothes more suited for her as requested. It will be delivered later in the day. However, I brought this for her to wear today.” Sebastian held up a beautiful, coral rose dress made of the finest materials that one could buy. “I’ll see to her getting dressed.”

He’d promised to do so, but once alone with the girl, it seemed an arduous task. Sebastian laid the dress on the bed along with the socks and shoes he’d picked out to best go with the outfit before addressing the child ducked down on the other side of the bed. “Please come out from there Miss Alara.”

“I can do it myself!” She dressed herself every day. The maids taking the time to teach her how in order to not have to do it themselves. As long as no buttons were out of reach, Alara had confidence that this task could be completed.

“I’ll wait outside, then.” Sebastian wavered at the door. He couldn’t allow her to cause herself harm, but at the same time, pushing her would only put a rift between their relationship. Should Comte decide to adopt the girl into the home, it would become his duty to oversee her needs met.

With the door almost completely closed, Alara peeked over the top of the bed to be sure that he’d gone. Satisfied that the room was empty, she rounded the bed and observed the dress up close. Her fingers dragged across the material, softer than she’d ever felt before. Nothing like the coarse and uncomfortable dress that her stepfather bought for her.

No buttons were in her way. The dress slid easy over her head and she only struggled for a moment to get her arms through the fitted cuffs at the bottom of the sleeves. Alara plopped onto the floor, falling onto her back as she tugged and pulled the white sock over her small foot, then repeated with the other.

The final touch, a pair of black shoes with a strap that looped around her ankle and buckled to the other side. She’d been taught how to do it, but it had always proved hard. After a few minutes of struggle, the girl simply tucked the end of the strap through and thought it to be fine.

“All done,” Alara announced to an empty hallway. That man was a butler, so he must have something else to do. All the staff at her stepfather’s home worked all day long and never stopped. Cleaning, cooking, delivering. She shrugged her shoulders and began down the hall. The kitchen and dining hall were down the stairs somewhere, so she must be going in the right direction.

A door ajar caught her attention, as all the others were tightly closed. A room filled with more books and interesting treasures than she had ever seen before drew her in. A haphazard mess, but a beautiful one. Books were stacked taller than she stood, paintings and maps stuffed all in between. Whose room would this be?

Atop one of the stacks, a shiny necklace laid in plain sight. Curiosity took over, as no one was around to see, and she reached up to take it. Nothing supported the tower books and the slightest shift caused the entire thing to lean towards her, ready to bury her beneath it’s hard covers.

Though Alara squeezed her eyes shut and covered her head, the anticipated pain never hit her. Instead, the overwhelming smell of cigarettes filled the space.

“That was a close one, wasn’t it?” The man holding back the stack of books had appeared from the other side of the pile. He imagined this must the girl that had caused the big commotion. Such a slight but beautiful child. Only half awake, he’d barely caught it, and hadn’t realized that his lazy expression was being misconstrued as an unhappy glare.

Alara took a step back, pale green eyes wide with many emotions, but the most present one being fear. Who was this man? Why was he sleeping on the floor? Would he be angry with her for invading his room? How much trouble was she in? The only men she’d known to smoke were her stepfather’s so-called friends.

“Scusa, - hey, wait-”

The words barely reached the child that started to bolt from the room. Being startled by a stranger had scared her at first but being reprimanded for entering a room that didn’t belong to her brought about the most distress. Alara spotted a figure ahead that she recognized from the previous night. “Arthur!”

The writer turned at the call of his name, lighting up with a smile for a brief moment until he noted the frantic state, she was in. “What’s the matter?” He couldn’t fathom what might have startled her so.

“Pick me up!” She rose up onto the balls of her feet, arms outstretched and begging for it. He’d protected her last night and she did quite like his accent, so a sense of familiar safety came from being around him.

“You don’t need to try to climb me,” Arthur chuckled as he did as she wanted. His gaze flickered from her to Leonardo’s room where she’d come out of. He must have been sleeping in an odd place and accidentally scared her. What good fun. With the girl’s legs locked around his waist and thin arms so tight around his neck, Arthur patted her back. “I’ll wager that Leonardo isn’t as frightening as you think he is.” 

Leonardo emerged from his bedroom, brushing his hand through his hair. “I had no intentions of scaring you, cara mia.” He’d only heard the story of what happened second hand, and grossly underestimated how timid and fragile her mindset was.

The only response given was a soft whine as she hid her face in Arthur’s neck and tightened her grip on him. “Scary.” Her whisper soft enough that only the writer caught it, to which he found quite amusing.

“This is quite the predicament you’ve gotten yourself into.” Arthur grinned at the other vampire. He wanted to bring her down for breakfast just like this. A triumphant entrance as he’d boast that he’d won her trust. “I hadn’t a clue you liked to torture young ones.”

“I saved her from a stack of books about to collapse on top of her. That’s the opposite of torture. I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

No response came.

Leonardo tried speaking to her as they walked down to the dining hall. She refused to even look at him, only responding to Arthur when he asked her an unrelated question. He sighed in defeat as they reached the main door. It would take some time to recover from this incident.

A truly bad first impression.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp jean #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp isaac #alara bayar #and so they met #the next part will introduce her to mozart and jean #comte adopts a child #he becomes a papa #eventually #we love comte