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luveline · 6 months

Note

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing.

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask.

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone.

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut."

"Where are you?"

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away.

"I'm fine," you say into his neck.

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past.

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to."

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly.

"Not at first."

"You really won't call the police?"

"I texted you."

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all."

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present.

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?"

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you."

"You probably get too much business from guys like me."

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work."

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough.

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers.

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself.

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for."

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car."

"You hate driving."

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more."

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him.

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change.

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door.

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours."

"That's not a problem for you?"

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–"

"There are a hundred locksmiths."

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh.

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces.

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you.

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–"

"Why aren't you at work?"

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency."

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?"

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?"

"I don't really… I don't…" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…"

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his.

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling.

You're not right, is the thing.

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue.

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur.

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to."

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach.

"I'm so stupid," you say.

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job.

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that."

"The only person here, maybe."

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you."

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you."

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try.

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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moni-logues · 2 months

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Investment

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (Kintsugi couple!)

Genre: slice of life, fluff, established relationship

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: Yoongi's tired of his job and terrified of making a change.

Content: no warnings! Just fluffy stuff

A/N: firstly, 'gardening leave' is what happens when, rather than working your notice period, the company pays you NOT to work. Secondly, AHHHH Kintsugi couple is back again. This is truly a drop in the ocean of what I've thought about for them lmao but as someone asked the other day about their future, here is a small glimpse into it!

You heard the door open and close and then Yoongi was immediately curling himself up in your lap.

“You’re late today, baby.”

“I know,” he mumbled, speaking into the fluff of your jumper. “I hate my job.”

You kissed the top of his head. This was not the first time he’d said that. Not even close. He had been saying it more and more frequently over the past few months and you weren’t quite sure what to do about it.

“I made dinner; do you want me to get you some?”

He shook his head again and you stroked his hair as you wondered what might help. A cat climbed up into his lap and you thought that might work but Yoongi barely noticed her.

“I could run you a bath? Do you want a bath?”

There was a second’s hesitation and then he nodded and sighed.

“That sounds nice.”

“Ok, I’ll run you a bath.”

And you moved, to get up, to go and start the task at hand but Yoongi gripped you tighter, a quiet noise of protest leaving his mouth.

“You know I have to get up if you want that bath.”

“Five more minutes.”

So you sat for five more minutes: you stroking Yoongi’s hair, he stroking the cat, and then he did, as promised, let you get up.

“Ok, bath is ready.”

You had done your best: the nicest bubble bath, candles, quiet classical music on in the background (because studies have shown it helps to reduce stress). Yoongi stripped and stepped into the hot water with a hiss; it was probably too hot, but you knew that was how he liked it. As hot as hell. Even hotter.

He sank into the water with a groan and you kissed his forehead before turning to leave. Your exit was stopped by your hand in his, which he would not drop. You turned to him.

“You come here,” he said, pointing to the bath.

“Me, too?”

He nodded, so you stripped as he had only a minute earlier and tentatively, slowly, and carefully lowered yourself into hell’s hot spring. You grimaced but eventually were able to settle, leaning back against Yoongi’s chest, tucking your face into his neck. He kissed your shoulder, once, and then again, and then made his way to your neck and your cheek.

“Would you still love me if I quit my job?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly.

“What if I had no job?”

“I’d still love you.”

“What if I were poor?”

“Still then, too.”

“What if I never got another job ever again?”

“I can support us.”

Yoongi snorted, softly and not unkindly.

“Not here.”

“No,” you conceded. “Not here, but I make more than I did before I moved in and I was supporting myself pretty decently. We could live ok together on just my salary. We’d eat.”

Yoongi’s arms grew tighter around you and he nuzzled his nose into your hair.

“I love you,” he murmured into it.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I’d never make you do that, you know.”

“I know. But I could. I would.”

He kissed your cheek.

“Do you want to quit your job?” you asked after a few moments’ silence.

Yoongi let the question hang and you didn’t push the issue. You knew he’d been struggling recently. That work wasn’t what it used to be. That he got no satisfaction from it. You saw him lie in bed and stare at the ceiling every morning before he absolutely had to get up. You saw him crawl home at night – never early, never on time, always late – and fall asleep on the sofa. You noticed how much less frequently he was doing the things he liked to. You noticed he wasn’t eating so much. You worried about it, but you didn’t know how to help. Because you felt sure that what he needed was to quit and you weren’t sure if he could.

That job had been his lifeline. His everything. It had been his way out. It had made him. He didn’t know what to do without it. Didn’t know how he would survive – except that, of course, he did know. He knew he would be fine. More than fine. He was smart and sensible and had a financial advisor who was worth every one of the many, many pennies he cost. If he were really smart about it, he probably could never work again.

But he still didn’t know how he would quit his job. His whole life he had dreamt of it. His whole life worked towards it. He was good at it. Great, even. He was well-respected. He was successful. He didn’t know what he would do if he failed. He didn’t know if quitting was failure. He saw his teenage self, his lost, lonely 18-year-old self arriving in Seoul for the first time with nothing but a rucksack and a heart full of terror and he saw that self curse at him for even considering handing in his notice.

It made him feel ungrateful. It made him feel arrogant. It made him look at his colleagues with something closer to contempt than it had ever been. Made him look at himself that way, too.

His therapist, Joan, the one he liked, the Australian in her mid-fifties who had studied abroad in Korea, met a man, and then lived here ever since, had asked him to talk to you about it. About quitting. Because you were part of his fear, too. What would you think if he quit? What if he couldn’t get another job? What if he lost all his money? Would you still respect him for being a quitter? Would you still want him if he couldn’t provide? How would you ever be able to marry and have children with him if he couldn’t support you?

He squeezed you tighter and kissed you, reminding himself that you were there. Reminding himself of the person you were. Because he knew you wouldn’t leave. He knew you would love him. He really did know it, but there was doubt deep in his heart that wouldn’t leave him.

You had let Yoongi lead the conversation on his job because you didn’t want to say the wrong thing. It felt too big, too significant to dare risk putting your foot in it. But then, you usually did just that; you would usually say anything, everything, to Yoongi. This felt like an exception because it went so far back into his past and so far down into the depths of his soul.

Maybe that actually made it all the more important that you dragged it to light.

“Ok,” you said, sitting up a little and twisting to look at him. “What would you do if you quit?”

He shrugged.

“Would it make you feel more confident about quitting if you had a plan?”

Yoongi shrugged again. Because he did have a plan. Or not so much a plan, but an idea. Something he’d thought about, been thinking about. Something he might want to do. Something that scared the shit out of him. He was still thinking, though; he didn’t know if he was ready to tell you.

“Well, if you want to try to make a plan, you know I’m here. And if you don’t want a plan, that’s ok, too. I want whatever you want, remember?”

You leant forward and kissed him lightly, twice, and then a third time because you just couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m on your side, baby,” you whispered, lips still close to his. “I’m always on your side.”

You lay next to Yoongi, later that night, bath water cooled, bodies dried, bed-ready. You were thinking about the day Yoongi might quit his job—what you could do for him, what he might want, how he might feel. He interrupted your thoughts.

“I might want to be a counsellor.”

You waited a second to absorb it, to bring your mind back around. It seemed obvious, now he had said it. Of course. Of course, that was what he would be. What he would do. How perfect for him.

“A counsellor? I think you’d be an amazing counsellor.”

“You do?”

You pushed yourself up so you could look at him, even though you could barely see a thing in the darkness. You used your hand to guide you, resting it against his cheek, fingers gently brushing hair from his brow.

“Yeah, I do. I think that’s a great idea.”

He hummed and you felt him nod.

“How would you do it? How do you qualify for that?”

There was the rub. That was the other reason he hadn’t wanted to say it. Because it would take years. He could do an accelerated course, so he’d qualify in two rather than four, but he didn’t know how long after that it would take him to make money, to be stable, secure.

The thing was that he wanted to marry you. Had been thinking about it. Had been trying to not want to quit his job so that he could just do it, ask you already. He wanted to marry you and stay happily in his job for the rest of his life so he could provide for you and however many kids you might or might not have; he wanted to ensure that they would be safe and secure, that you would be safe and secure. He could do that if he stayed in his job. He didn’t know if he could do it if he didn’t. And he didn’t want to propose to you under false pretences; didn’t want to propose while he earnt good money and then quit, then earn next to nothing, trap you into life with him when he didn’t know what he could give you.

That was why he hadn’t quit yet. That was the excuse he was giving himself. That was what Joan had really wanted Yoongi to talk to you about. Because when she had asked how you would feel if you knew these were Yoongi’s concerns, he answered. He knew the answers already. Joan thought hearing them from the horse’s mouth might help. She was probably right.

But he still didn’t want to ask you because he was scared of asking. Scared of raising the topic of marriage in case you didn’t want it.

That was why he couldn’t quit his job.

“It would take a couple of years,” he answered eventually. “I’d have to go back to university. To qualify. Not sure how long it would take after that to get established, to make good money.”

“You don’t have to make good money. I told you: I can support us.”

“And I told you I would never make you do that.”

There was an edge to his voice, an anger you knew wasn’t really directed at you. You let this one slide because you knew that even talking about quitting his job, doing something else, was hard enough for him.

“I have passive income,” he continued, voice softer, “and savings. It won’t be on you.”

“I don’t want you to use your savings, though.”

“That’s what they’re for.”

“You shouldn’t use them up if you don’t have to. I said I’m on your side and that means we’re a team, ok? Be a team with me. Let me help. I let you help me by not paying rent here, don’t I? Let me help you not use your savings.”

Because that was how you got through to him. You reminded him that you were in this together, that this was supposed to be about giving and taking, not just him giving and giving and giving. You wanted to give, too, and Yoongi liked giving you what you wanted.

“Well it’s not like it’s happening anyway,” he said. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. I really think you should do this. It sounds so good. It would be so exciting.”

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to make out the features of his face, allowing you to dip your head and kiss him.

“I know you hate your job, baby, and I want you to be happy. You deserve it. You deserve the opportunity to find out if there’s something else out there you can do. I think you can do it. And I’m always, always going to be here for you, no matter what happens. Promise.”

It didn’t come up again for a while and you didn’t raise it, leaving the ball in Yoongi’s court. Besides, he had seemed lighter since your conversation—like even discussing the possibility of something else was enough to lighten the load a little. You did your own research, looking at schools and trying to find out what he’d need and when, but you weren’t sure how much research he’d done, whether he knew what course he wanted to apply for, whether he’d applied for it already.

You decided to give him another couple of weeks. There would still be time after that for the application deadlines you’d seen (if they were even the right ones). It would give him a little more time to bring it up again. And if he didn’t, you would.

You leant heavily on the door handle as you opened it, tired from work, hungry, so, so ready for the weekend: a weekend in which you would lie down a lot and do little else, you hoped. You kicked your shoes off and two cats came skittering towards you. Then human feet appeared behind them and you looked up in shock.

“Baby!”

You leapt into Yoongi’s arms with a little too much force and he staggered back, laughing, holding you tight. He span you around in the air just once and you tottered on your feet when he placed you back down.

“You’re here! You’re- you’re early!”

He grinned and nodded.

“Yes and I’m making dinner.”

You kissed him hungrily, fingers tightly wound in his hair.

It had been so long since Yoongi had beaten you home from work that you couldn’t even remember the last time. Even longer still had it been since you’d seen Yoongi this happy on a work day.

You both walked to the kitchen and Yoongi poured you some wine. You hopped up on a bar stool and refused to let him go back to cooking; you wrapped your legs and arms around him and kissed him, relieved and excited and so damn happy to have him there, then, at that moment.

There was a twinkle in his eye when he pulled back from you and it sent a spark down your spine, woke the butterflies in your stomach.

“I quit my job.”

You gasped, your mouth open wide.

“No way!”

He nodded. You squealed with laughter, pulling him close, holding him tight, then letting him go to pepper kisses all over his face.

“You quit!”

He looked happy about it, sparkling, glowing, radiant even. He grinned at you until it faltered, a second of doubt passing over his face like a cloud.

“I should have told you,” he said, brow creasing. “We should have discussed it-“

You knew, though you couldn’t see them under his hair, that the tips of his ears were going red. You kissed him, cut him off mid-word.

“I like surprises,” you told him. “And I’m so happy for you.”

You brought your lips to his again, hoping to kiss him for long enough for his doubt to fade and pure joy to return.

“Does this mean you’ll be home on time now?”

He nodded.

“I’m enforcing working hours,” he told you, “not working whatever hours they ask.”

“Can you do that?”

“What are they going to do, fire me? I already quit. And if they want to put me on gardening leave, even better.”

He shrugged with a cavalier smirk.

He may have looked confident, but Yoongi’s heart was hammering in his chest, had been all day. He wondered when it would give out from the stress. He’d blocked out his entire morning for an ‘urgent, top priority’ problem: he sat in his office for three hours trying to get it together so he could go to his boss and hand in his notice. He hadn’t told anyone he was going to do it. He couldn’t take the pressure of anyone else knowing, though now, in hindsight, he wished he had told you (even if you did love surprises and even if he did love the glee on your face when he’d told you). Somehow, even after all this time, he was still not used to the fact that he didn’t have to do everything on his own. That he shouldn’t be doing things on his own. That he preferred doing them with you.

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours, his heart now hammering and fit to burst, pressing against his ribs as if it could break them. He was terrified. There was a pit of anxiety in his gut that felt endless, that made him unsure if he would be able to eat the dinner he was halfway through cooking. But he had you. In his life, in his heart, in his hands, on a stool in the kitchen of the apartment where you both lived. You knew he could do it. He wouldn’t let you be wrong.

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi fluff #bts fluff

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r3starttt · 3 months

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Barista e! x Baker a!

Prt.1

Barista e! x Baker a! who close the store to have a proper date with you. Abby cooks you her favorite cake and the most delicious sandwich you could ever taste and Ellie makes the most delicious drinks, not too sweet, not to sour, perfect.

Barista e! x Baker a! who put so much effort on the whole eating part they forget to measure time so they end having the date with clothes that smell like a mix of coffee and bread. Not that you mind it at all anyways.

Barista e! x Baker a! who’s hearts melted when they saw you’ve bought flowers for them.

“They’re fucking gorgeous, god, you didn’t have to” Ellie greeted you first, giving you the most warm and delicious hug you’ve ever had. She smelled like coffee and her usual perfume, perfect combo. “The least I should’ve done if I had you two working all day for me.”

“Nothing we don’t do every other day, it’s alright” now it was Abby’s turn. Her braid was a bit messy, she smelled like sweet bread and chocolate, plus her perfume as well, it was a mix between pines and the natural alcohol smell every perfume has. “Yeah whatever” you gave Abby some small pats on the back before breaking the hug.

Barista e! who does the most pretty design on the coffee for you and puts zero effort on Abby’s. And Baker a! who gives Ellie the smallest slices of cake and portions of other food she wants to eat.

Barista e! x Baker a! who won’t take their eyes off of you. And who would be very touchy and flirty, on their own ways ofc.

how is it? you like it? yeah? who did better?

Barista e! x Baker a! who rather listening you talk than saying something themselves so you have to remind them you don’t know them and this date is exactly for them to talk and give you some context on their life’s.

“We met here actually, Abby was already working when I got here. She needed some help with the cooking but I ended up doing all the drink stuff instead” “She sucks at cooking, I don’t know how she survives on her own”

Barista e! x Baker a! who keep insisting on you choosing one of them already and get all flustered the moment you mention “why not both?”

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gremlingottoosilly · 3 months

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Do you think König would enjoy slice-of-life like Lucky Star? Or maybe crazy comedy like Asobi Asobase? Maybe he would enjoy post-apocalyptic cute stuff like Girls' Last Tour? What kind of genre you think König would like the most?

-MintyAnon

I feel like in the start of his loser anime watcher career, Konig only liked brutal battle shounen. The type of guy to solely watch Gundam and many other mecha animes because, being a nerd without any friends or a normal company, he liked to imagine being a mecha operator. He never got into painting miniatures because he couldn't sit in one place for long enough, but he tried to at least collect already made ones - especially when he got money to support his hobby. When he got older, however, he started to appreciate classic "Cute girls doing cute stuff" animes and got weirdly into K-on. Not to the state of obsession, but it was closest he got to owning a figure of an anime school girl in a mini skirt. You would have to introduce him to the more modern slices of life, however, because this man doesn't have time to watch a lot of shows and he'd rather watch isekai slop about a shield wielding hero hated by everyone because he relates to the main character so much, it's literally him. It doesn't help that he dropped watching a lot of the fresh season series because they had too much fan service with teen characters. He doesn't mind hot girls in bikinis in his anime, but the schoolgirls are leaving him feeling really weird, so he tries to find fan service anime with adult women. Which is A) Almost impossible B) Already tricked him into watching Milfsekai with a hot mom because Konig fucking loves milfs and he regrets it and C) Just made him start watching hentai at this point.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader

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corroded-hellfire · 5 months

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Where the Heart Is: Epilogue - Eddie Munson x Reader

Part 5

Summary: It’s moving day and the next chapter of your life with Eddie is beginning. And somewhere down the road, pieces of your heart collide with one another, making your anniversary all the more meaningful.

Note: The story has finally come to its close. It amazes me that this was never intended to be a series at all—it turned into one purely because it became so requested of me. It’s been a year since this fic first posted and the number of you who have stood by all this time to see it to the end hold such a special place in my heart. Thank you all for your kind words, generous reblogs, and all the love I’ve received over this story. I have loved writing in this world and would always be open to receiving requests in it. I hope you enjoy this little slice of their happily ever after 🧡

Words: 4.6k

[Where the Heart Is masterlist]

“Jesus Christ, Munson.”

Steve sits down on the edge of the U-Haul, trying to catch his breath after shoving Eddie’s amp on board. The bed of the moving truck is decently full already. The Harrington household was the first stop, and Steve’s things bound for Boston were loaded yesterday.

Today at the Munsons, it’s time to do the heavy lifting. Well, for Eddie and Steve to do the heavy lifting. Not to say that you and Nancy aren’t helping, but you have the easier job of loading up the back of Eddie’s van with boxes full of clothes and other smaller and more delicate objects that are certainly lighter than the alternative.

“What’re ya whining about now, Harrington?” Eddie says, sweat dripping from the curls that frame his face. His hair is in a bun at the base of his neck but it’s not enough to keep him cool in the late August heat.

“That amp weighs more than your bed did,” Steve says.

“No shit,” Eddie argues, wiping his sweaty forehead off on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Because one is a mattress and a basic frame to hold it up and the other is a goddamn expensive piece of musical equipment. I hope you didn’t ding it at all.”

“I’ll ding you,” Steve mumbles under his breath as he stands back up.

“What?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing, nothing,” Steve says as he hops up the steps back into the trailer.

“How ya doing, babe?” you ask, coming over to Eddie after carrying a box of his D&D stuff over to his van.

“Hot. Sweaty. Tired.”

“Aww,” you coo and wrap your arms around his neck. It doesn’t matter in the slightest to you that he’s all sweaty—you’ve been the cause of him getting sweaty many times before. Eddie rests his hands on your hips and pecks your lips.

“Eddie!” Wayne calls from inside.

“Yeah?”

“Are you bringing your desk?”

Your boyfriend chews on his bottom lip, deliberating. “Well, do you wanna keep it?”

“What the hell do I need a desk for?” Wayne asks, making you chuckle.

“Okay, we’ll take it.” Eddie huffs a laugh and gives your hip a squeeze.

“I’m glad that Wayne’s getting a proper bedroom back,” you say.

“And I’m sure he’s glad that we’re bringing the old bed with us and he’s getting a new one. I don’t think he’d get much sleep on it thinking about what you and I have done on it.”

“That doesn’t even include you on your own for years before that,” you tease. Eddie digs his fingers into your ribs, making you squeal and giggle as he tickles you.

Nancy comes out of the trailer, balancing two medium sized boxes in her arms. She raises her eyebrows at Eddie as she walks past him to get to his van.

“Wayne looks like he’s planning on helping Steve carry that desk out here. I’d get your ass in there,” she warns.

Eddie sighs. “Ugh, stubborn old man.” He kisses the top of your head before disappearing inside his home—or rather, former home.

You walk over and help Nancy load up the two boxes she just brought out. Both of you walk over towards the U-Haul and Nancy smacks her hand against the side of it.

“I am not looking forward to driving in this thing with Steve all day,” she says. “He’s never driven something this big but of course he’d never admit that it’ll be difficult.”

You chuckle and nod along, knowing your boyfriend would be the same way. You open your mouth to respond when you hear yelling coming from inside.

“No, tilt it like this!”

“I know what I’m doing!”

“Remind me to never let you work on my car if this is the way you handle things!”

Nancy sighs and shakes her head.

“Do you think it’s too late to tell them that they can’t move in with us?” she asks.

Once everything is on the truck and ready to go, Steve and Nancy say their goodbyes to Wayne and slip into the front seats, giving you and Eddie the chance for a more private farewell. You give Wayne a big hug, which he happily returns.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him,” you promise.

Wayne chuckles and shakes his head as the two of you pull apart.

“Just worried about how long before you call me to come pick him up ‘cause you’ve had enough of him.”

“Never,” you assure Wayne, taking one of his weathered hands in yours and giving it a squeeze.

“You heard her,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. “She’s never letting me go. I’m gonna be a prisoner.”

“Locked up in a nice Boston apartment with your girl and two of your best friends,” Wayne says, shaking his head. “When will justice be served?”

When you step back from Wayne, you’re not sure if Eddie wants you to stay or go wait in the van while he says goodbye to the man who raised him. When your boyfriend playfully tugs your ear on the way to his uncle though, you take it as it’s fine for you to be here.

“Well, I’ll see ya soon, Old Man,” Eddie says as he pulls Wayne in for a hug.

“You drive safe, okay?” Wayne asks, his hand clapping his nephew on the back as they hug. “And I mean real safe, not ‘Eddie safe,’ okay? You got precious cargo there you’re carrying.” Wayne throws you a wink over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh, I know,” Eddie says. He pulls back and sighs. “Gotta make sure my guitar gets to Boston unharmed.”

Wayne shakes his head and turns to you. “He ever acts up, just smack him on the back of the head. Like this.”

“Ow!” Eddie complains, reaching up to cover the spot where his uncle just thunked him. With a small giggle, you nod your head, affirming that you’ll know what to do.

There’s a brief moment of silence before Eddie sighs and claps his hand onto Wayne’s shoulder.

“You take care, you hear me? Don’t make me start sending Red over here to check on you. Or maybe I’ll just call Abigail.”

At the sound of his new girlfriend’s name, Wayne rolls his eyes.

“I can take care of myself. I’ll see you up there in Boston for Thanksgiving,” he says.

Eddie nods. He goes to take a step towards the van but twists and gives Wayne another hug instead.

“Thanks for everything, Wayne. I mean it. For everything.”

“You’re a good kid,” Wayne says as he hugs him back, tighter than the last time, you notice. “‘M proud of you, son.”

By the time they break apart, your eyes have misted over. Blinking away the tears seems to help, but one or two manage to escape and slide down your cheeks.

Eddie walks over and laces his fingers with yours.

“Ready, sweet girl?”

“Let’s go.”

The two of you hop into the van and, ahead of you, Steve starts up the truck. Eddie’s van rumbles to life and you just pray this thing makes it to Boston. Perks of having a mechanic for a boyfriend, though, are that you don’t have to wait around forever to have some mechanic come by and check it out, then fork out the big bucks for whatever is wrong with it.

Eddie puts the van in drive and follows Steve down the road, towards the exit of Forest Hills. Dark brown eyes flick up towards the rear-view mirror. Eddie watches the front door to the trailer close behind Wayne and takes a long look at the home he grew up in. It’s small, old, and not in the best condition. But it’s where he’s lived his life and had some of the best times he’s ever had. It’ll be weird to him to have a new home. To be in a new city. In a new state. But he’s excited. Excited to turn the page and start this next chapter of his life with you.

Rough, callused fingers find yours as you pull out of the trailer park. You intertwine your fingers with his and bring his hand up to your hand for a kiss.

“You okay, handsome?” you ask.

The grin he gives you makes your breath catch in your chest. You’ll never get over how breathtakingly beautiful he is. The way his curls frame his face just right and how his long eyelashes brush his cheeks every time he blinks.

“Me?” Eddie asks. “Never been better, baby.”

If Steve and Eddie thought that getting furniture out of both their houses and into the truck was hard, they’re in for a nasty surprise. The apartment you’re all sharing is on the second floor of the off-white building the moving van and Eddie’s truck are parked in front of. Both Steve and Nancy’s cars are parked behind the building, in a small private lot. Steve had driven his car here and then flown back with Nancy before the move.

“Ah, Jesus,” Steve sighs as he takes a look at the staircase the two of them will be maneuvering furniture up.

One of the advantages of living close to the school though, is that students are always around, either passing through or lodging somewhere nearby. Luckily, two guys from your and Nancy’s English class last semester come out of the apartment building next to yours.

“Whoa, need some help?” One of the guys, Jerry, asks when he sees the U-haul stuffed to the brim with furniture and boxes.

“Boys?” Nancy asks, turning to face your boyfriends. “Will your pride allow you to let others help?”

“Shit, my pride got knocked out of me the second time I dropped my dresser on my foot,” Eddie says. He turns to Jerry and offers his hand. “We’d appreciate that, man.”

With the help of Jerry and his friend Rich, all of the furniture and belongings are moved into apartment 286 within a few hours. The two good Samaritans wouldn’t accept pizza and beer as a thank you, just insisted helping was no trouble and it counted as their workout for the day.

Between the loading of the vehicles, the long drive, then the unloading of the vehicles, the four of you are thoroughly exhausted. All of the furniture is still in pieces and none of you care beyond making sure each bedroom has the right mattress in it for your inevitable crashes tonight.

“Thank God the bedrooms are on opposite sides of the apartment,” Eddie says to you as you walk out from your shared bedroom.

“I said the same thing to Nance not ten minutes ago,” Steve says. He sets down a box labeled “Living Room” in big black letters. “I don’t wanna hear a damn thing that’s gonna go on in that room of yours.”

“Glad we could finally agree on something,” Eddie says as he slings an arm over your shoulders.

“That’s fine,” Nancy says as she comes out of her and Steve’s room. “But you know we will talk about what goes on in there to each other, right? Girl code and all.”

“Girl code consists of telling each other what goes on in the bedroom?” Steve asks, eyebrows so high they’re practically hidden in his hair.

“Not everything,” you say to placate the men. Even though, obviously, you and Nancy do discuss just about everything that goes on in there with each other. What else are you supposed to talk about when getting coffee together?

“Okay, I’m starving,” Eddie says, resting his free hand on his stomach. “Please tell me we have a goddamn phone book so I can order some food.”

Pizza is ordered and delivered, and since none of you had brought a couch to your new home, the four of you sit on the floor in the middle of what will become your living room as you eat it. Steve pours a cup of Pepsi for everyone, and you all raise your red solo cups.

“What should we toast to?” you ask.

“A smooth semester,” Nancy says.

“To Munson and I finding good jobs here,” Steve adds.

“And to the many adventures we’re gonna have and how they’ll make everyone back in Hawkins completely jealous,” Eddie says.

“Let’s try and keep them in this dimension, yeah?” you say.

“Deal,” Eddie replies.

“To our new beginnings!” you say as you lift your cup.

The four of you tap your cups together, being careful not to be too hard lest you spill some.

It’s an early night, considering how exhausted you all are. That’s why when you come out of the bathroom, yawning and rubbing your tired eyes, the last thing you expected to see when you walked into your room was Eddie plugging in a strand of multicolored Christmas lights. The strings of lights are draped over piles of boxes, Eddie’s dresser, your bedside table, and a bookshelf you’d brought.

The lamp connected to the fan on the ceiling is still on, so it’s hard to really see the glow emanating from the little bulbs.

“What’s all this?” you ask, tapping your fingernail against one of the small red lights.

“Well,” Eddie says as he stands up from his crouched position, “I remember you told me at Christmas you would hang lights in your room and watch them blink and shine as you fell asleep. And, I mean, I know it’s not Christmas time, but I figured these lights might make you happy anyway.”

Your face feels stuck between a grin and a cry as you walk over to your boyfriend. His cheeks are warm as you cup them in your hands and press a kiss to his lips.

“I love them. I love you,” you say softly. “They do make me happy. But you make me the happiest.” You take another look around the room, watching the different colors do their best to be seen in the brightly lit room. “These lights kind of follow us, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and nods his head. “Pretty sure we have custody of them by this point.”

“Maybe tomorrow we can hang them up? Like they were in the van?” you ask. “I mean, who needs crown molding when you have Christmas lights?”

Eddie chuckles and runs his hands up and down your arms.

“God, I can’t believe this is our room. That I get to fall asleep next to you every night and wake up to you each morning.”

“And some fun stuff in between.” You smirk and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Think we should christen the room?” Eddie asks.

Instead of answering, you get down on the mattress that’s on the floor while the bed frame is still dismantled. You pull your pajama shirt up over your head and toss it behind you.

“Pants off, Munson.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

Eddie practically hops out of his pants and throws them in a corner. He yanks the longer chain attached to the ceiling fan and the main light goes dark. Dozens of pretty lights twinkle and dance as you take in the strands around the room. The only word you can come up with to describe how it looks is magical.

There’s a dip on the bed next to you and you look over to see Eddie stripping himself of his shirt as he sits down. He lays back against his pillows and opens his arms for you.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie says. “Let’s fool around on our bed.”

Three Months Later

The apartment is fuller than you’ve ever seen it. You’re in the kitchen, checking on the green bean casserole that you made. Your friends and boyfriend unanimously decided you should be in charge of the side dishes for Thanksgiving because you’re the best cook. Nancy has been making cookies for the last few days with Holly, who flew in for the holiday. That left Eddie and Steve in charge of the turkey. You’re not sure how that’ll go, and if you made a few too many side dishes in case the bird ends up inedible, so what?

“Oh, sweetie?”

You turn around from washing off your hands in the kitchen sink to see Steve’s mom standing before you with the pumpkin and apple pies she brought.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Harrington?” you ask.

When she smiles you immediately know where Steve acquired that feature. Similarly, Mr. Harrington, who is out in the living room talking with Wayne, has the same eyes and nose as his son. They share the same confidence too, even if Mr. Harrington’s sometimes borders on cocky.

“Did you want the pies in the fridge?” Mrs. Harrington asks.

“Oh! Yes, please.” You open the refrigerator door and carefully take the desserts from her and lay them near the carton of milk. “I’ll put those in the oven after everyone is done with dinner.”

Mrs. Harrington takes one of your hands in hers and gives it a soft squeeze.

“Take a deep breath, dear. I know it can seem overwhelming, but you’re doing great. Everything smells delicious. If you need any help, you let me know, okay?”

“I will,” you agree. “Thank you.”

She gives you one last kind smile before walking back out to the living room.

Somehow, you feel calmer after just those few words from Mrs. Harrington. You’ve never even met her before today, but her nurturing presence was comforting. It’s a melancholy feeling because you’ll never have that with your own mother. As much as you’ve accepted that, it still finds a way to sting every now and again.

A ding on the oven lets you know that the biscuits are done. Once you’ve gotten them out of the oven and given the stuffing a few stirs, you see someone come into the kitchen out of the corner of your eye.

“There’s my favorite cook.”

You giggle and step forward to hug Wayne. You’d hugged him when he arrived earlier, but you’re stealing another one now anyway.

“And look at that!” Wayne says. “Wearing the apron I got you for Christmas last year.”

“Oh, I wear this every time I cook,” you tell him proudly, looking down at the turquoise material tied around your waist. There are a few stains here and there despite your best efforts to keep it pristine.

Eddie pops into the kitchen claps a hand against Wayne’s back before coming to stand next to you.

“Need any help, babe?” he asks.

“Actually, I think dinner is just about ready. Help me set the table?”

“No way,” Wayne says with a shake of his head. “You worked hard cooking all this for us, Eddie and I will get everything out on the table.”

The dishes exit the kitchen one by one, to be laid out on the dining room table and Eddie’s old desk that have been pushed together and covered with a burnt sunset tablecloth. The chairs are mismatched as well, but you all had to work with what you’ve got.

Once it seems like everything has been situated, you take a deep breath. It’s out of your hands now. All you can do is hope people enjoy the food you made.

Everyone is gathering around the table, sitting down in front of lovely place settings that Nancy worked very hard on. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington take two seats at the far end of the table. Steve sits down next to his father at the head of the table, with Nancy on his other side. Holly giggles about something Steve said as she slides in the chair next to her big sister.

Wayne slips past you and takes a seat next to Mrs. Harrington. The second head of the table, opposite Steve, is free and you give a little bow and motion for Eddie to take it. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead.

The two empty place settings on either side of Eddie seem to stare at you. The extra chairs mock you as you look over the people sitting at the table in your home. Steve and his parents, Nancy and her little sister, Eddie with his uncle. Family. Not just the individual ones, but as a collective group. The four of you who live in this apartment have brought the people in their lives into all of your lives. It’s an extension of a family that keeps going on and on.

“Ah,” Eddie says as he hops up from his seat. “Forgot the wine that Wayne brought.” He gives your lips a quick peck before walking into the kitchen. You can’t help but smile as you watch him. This is where you belong. Eddie is your family and your home.

The quiet knocking pulls you out of your latest Eddie-zone-out. It sounds again and you realize someone is knocking on the front door.

“I’ve got it,” you say as Steve starts to stand.

The cold doorknob bites your hand as you twist it to reveal who’s standing there. At first your eyes are too high, catching on a familiar face but not quite the one that fills you with glee. When you look down, there she is. Large, inquisitive eyes, wide smile, and two pigtail braids to top off her lovely purple dress.

They’re here. You’d extended the invitation to your sister months ago, but never heard back. That wasn’t unusual of your sister, but it did complicate your planning. Nancy insisted that you have the extra place settings and chairs for them just in case. Though you truly believed it would all be in vain, you agreed.

Tears collect along your waterline, and you know it won’t be long before they’re leaking down your face.

“I am so happy you’re here. Look at how tall you got!” You lean down and Chloe instantly jumps into your arms. The hug you give her is as tight as it can possibly be without hurting her. “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you, too!” Chloe says as she pulls away and you stand up.

More surprising than opening your front door and seeing your sister and niece, your sister leans in and pulls you into a hug.

“It’s really nice to see you,” she says.

As stunned as you are, you manage to hug her back. It’s a warm and comforting hug—something you never thought you’d get from her again.

“It’s nice to see you too, Melanie.” You find yourself actually meaning those words. This is certainly no indication that things will become more stable between the two of you, but at least it’s a nice gesture on a holiday.

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” you tell both of them, but give Chloe a wink. “Eddie? Babe?”

He steps out of the kitchen, wine bottle in hand, and his head swivels as he searches for you. You see his eyes take in you, then the woman and little girl who look very similar to you. A grin lights up his face and you just know how happy he is for you. He sets the wine bottle down on the table and walks over to you. The closer he gets, the shyer Chloe becomes. Though she’s too big for it now, she tries to hide herself behind your legs.

“Eddie, this is my sister Melanie and my niece Chloe,” you say.

Your boyfriend squats so he can be on more of an even level with the girl. He offers a hand to her.

“It’s nice to meet my girlfriend’s favorite person,” he says.

Chloe still looks a little unsure, but she comes out from behind your legs just enough to shake his hand.

“I think that’s you,” she tells Eddie softly.

“Why’s that?” Eddie tilts his head in curiosity.

“Because she’s never smiled like that when she’s looked at me before.” Chloe looks up at you, now a speechless mess, and then lowers her head to look at Eddie again. “When you came outta the kitchen. It was a big, big smile. I never seen her smile that big before.”

Heat rises to your face as your niece calls out your terminal case of lovesickness. Eddie doesn’t seem to know what to say either as he stands back up and takes your hand in his.

“Let’s, um. Let’s all sit down before the food gets cold,” you suggest. In your frazzled state, you forgot you didn’t exactly introduce your sister and boyfriend properly. You quickly remedy the situation and let them shake hands and have a polite greeting while you bring Chloe to the other side of the table where you’re sitting.

“Here we go,” you say as you help her into her chair. “This is Holly. She’s my friend Nancy’s little sister. That’s Nancy there, that’s Steve, those are Steve’s mom and dad, and this is Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.”

Chloe is seated directly across from Wayne and gives him a shy smile.

“Hi, darlin’,” Wayne greets. “Are you happy to see your aunt?”

“Yes!” Her face lights up and it absolutely melts your heart.

Eddie and Melanie come over and join you at the table; Eddie next to you at the head of the table, and Melanie directly across from you. A special sort of warmth you’ve never felt before overtakes your body. It's comforting, like wrapping yourself in the fluffiest blanket on a cold day. The source of this feeling smacks you in the face. You’re sitting between your two favorite people in the world. A part of you never thought this would actually happen, but here it is. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

Steve rises at the opposite end of the table, his wine glass in hand. It looks like someone poured it in Eddie’s absence. All heads turn to Steve, some unfamiliar faces staring back at him, and a lot of familiar ones. It doesn’t make a difference though. Steve is addressing everyone at the table.

“We’re grateful that each of us has some family with us today. The world is crazy, and you never know when things are going to go upside down.”

You, Eddie, and Nancy share a look, smirks on each of your faces at Steve’s hidden joke that only you three would get.

“So, here’s to family, friends, and the moments that bring us together.”

“Cheers!”

Everyone clinks their glasses together, reminiscent of the four of you knocking your red solo cups of Pepsi against each other. The difference between then and now is purely the nicer dinnerware and fuller apartment. The sentiment is still the same. A celebration of what you’ve accomplished so far and excitement for the adventures that lie ahead.

Under the table, Eddie laces his fingers with yours. Your mind wanders back to last Thanksgiving. The first time you and Eddie held hands. The first time you kissed. The first time you met. Back then, you never could have imagined what was beginning to blossom. The surprise of it sneaking up on you is half the fun.

Now you’re here, exactly where you belong. The people around this table own pieces of your heart, with Eddie holding the largest shard. This is what family is. This is home.

Eddie lifts your hands from under the table and presses a kiss to your knuckles. The soft chink of your charm bracelet the only sound penetrating the bubble that you and Eddie are in. Your newest charm, the little silver turkey you received this morning, stares up at you from where it rests on your wrist.

Soft lips on the back of your hand have your eyes rising to meet Eddie’s again. He leans in and steals a soft, tender kiss. A small giggle from behind you lets you know that you’re being spied on. But you couldn’t care less who watches you kiss your boyfriend.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” someone calls, you’re not sure who.

Eddie just smiles and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Eddie.”

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

#Eddie Munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #WTHI

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maevearcher · 1 month

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...um, okay, so, @pennyblossom-meta, here is part one of my two cents. I...I actually decided to peruse the manga again, so I'd pay more attention to specific things instead of...just living it over and over again, and beyond... So, I've decided to split things into parts, so it doesn't get insanely long either. This first part covers up to the point where Misa introduces herself to Light.

…I never know how or where to start these things….

First things first, I want to be clear on the fact that this, everything that I’m going to say, comes from the perspective that I’ve held true to my core values over as many years as I remember, ever since I learned how to read, namely that the book is better and truer that the movie. That the original written word is the baseline truth on which I must build any interpretation that will not result in me falsifying the very essence of what I’m trying to understand.

On that assumption, in any analysis of the character of L, I always, but always refer back to the manga, with the anime serving as completion of details here and there, with the anime giving me the absolutely exquisite feel of actually hearing him (and for me, the English dub is the best, I love Alessandro Juliani’s low, vocal fry-ish rendition, I love his harsh tones here and there, which I find most fitting for the particular manga scenes they are constructed upon.

It is true that anime and musical and whatnot paint a much more….humanized, softened picture of L A rounder, more sympathetic, more socially palatable picture. An image of this lonely autistic genious, locked inside the confines of his ways, waiting for the right person to come along and save him from the banes of his solitary existence…until he meets Light and realizes there’s someone out there who he can relate to, for understanding and stuff. I personally don’t buy too much into that.

I am not going to debate too much whether or not he’s autistic, because I cannot presume to understand that kind of a mind, that kind of an IQ, and the emotional development losses that come with it (because nature doesn’t make presents, almost always a high IQ comes with a lower EQ, grain of salt added). However, I can see neurodivergent traits, such as preference for low-stimulation environments, perhaps sensory sensitivity (such as preference for one particular type of fabric or comfort in clothing style…. – or perhaps he simply can’t be bothered with style choices and all, and tee and jeans seem like a safe perpetual go-to option)….but these have been analyzed to death.

As for the Ryuzaki persona theory….from what I’ve read and from what evidence I can put together, I find it only partially correct. Excluding the autorial intent (or rather, lack of) from the equation, going completely in-universe and treating fiction as reality….it is true that he acts differently when he is alone, prior to meeting the task force. He stands up straight and sits differently, he even does yoga and meditation to think. But later he slips into this total weirdo of a person…but I think this is highly intentional. I mean, he doesn’t fake his personality when interacting with the task force, he blatantly exaggerates some behaviors, with the purpose of being underestimated, as well as to cover some of his tracks, which people can chalk off to him just being a weirdo. Another thing….I think he has a waaay better understanding of social norms and regulations than people usually give him credit for. I mean, he is not socially awkward, that would amount to making involuntary mistakes out of genuine ignorance of social norms, because one cannot figure out the appropriate response. However, I cannot see him doing that. He is blunt and sarcastic and mean because he’s sort of a jerk when he wants to be… and he has little reason to be otherwise in the little slice of his life we are shown.

What I believe he truly struggles with is an understanding of emotions apart from their motivational aspect. We always see him having a very fine understanding of behavior, but he’s always, always asking “why? what are they hoping to achieve? what are they after? what is their purpose?....” I don’t think he has ever been confronted with the possibility of having someone be kind, nice, affectionate towards him for the simple enjoyment of his company, without being out to get him, or get something from him. He sees people either as neutral entities, or as people who either will hurt him or will use him. (And I would soo much like to see more of his life outside this particular situation when adrenaline is through the roof both from the chase, the thrill of the game, and from the fact that he is , in fact, in very real mortal danger, much more so than the relatively risk-less situations he has been in in his previous cases.)

What he comes across at first is…extremely self assured, to the point of egomaniac from the point of view of a normal person. But…he HAS to be this way in order to do what he does, he has to over-believe in himself because if he were to second guess himself and waver, he would have self destructed years ago. At first, he acts from this higher ground vantage point, allowing himself to even show Light that he was unsure about the action plan, during the initial televised confrontation (how he was like “I…I don’t believe it…I couldn’t believe it until I saw it with my own eyes…”) Then, his choice of words, how he is always using his pronouns well (“Listen to me” instead of just “Listen”, “I want you to…” instead of “Please do…”) he is very assertive about his position of authority.

What I also love is that he’s sooo expressive through body language, especially frustration (fist slam to the floor, clenching fist, gritting his teeth in frustration, throws the stack of papers on the floor, especially before meeting the task force, when he can actually afford such transparency). That fades a little bit later, and is only apparent in him gripping his knees a little more forcefully and (what I imagine, with the help of the voice dub in the anime) slightly colder and more distinnctly pronounced words, these being the ways of conveying. frustration and anger.

However, that’s not the only emotion he is expressing. He is caring and considerate. He refers to the FBI agents as “precious lives”. He acknowledges the integrity of Soichiro Yagami (a man who earns L’s respect and keeps it throughout….) and allows him the privacy of secrecy over the surveillance footage from his home (and again, as my only concession to the anime, the warmth in his tone when he allowed him this privacy…). He repays transparency with sincerity - he tells Soichiro that the surveillance period of seven days will not be extended secretly, telling him that he has his word on this…. And you can feel the honesty radiating from him at this point, he's never being a jerk for the sheer hell of it, in a completely undeserved fashion. One can argue about the way he belittles Matsuda, but let’s not forget Matsuda screwed up majorly a few times, and I for one would have been harsher on him than L was, so…. Besides, I do think, as I said in a previous post, that L actually came to like Matsuda and was affectionately cruel towards him the way you make life hell for a younger sibling. Which in turn proves (a manner of) attachment from L, he certainly does not see them as pawns.

I love it how he proves himself to be soo far from the image of the recluse genius, working only from behind the comfortable shield of his computer, unable or afraid to face the world outside……no, guys, he is aggressive and decisive, both in his opinions and in his actions, he is dead set from the beginning on having Kira commit a murder in front of him so he’d find out how exactly Kira kills, therefore, being pushy and (almost) reckless in some decisions, he takes the step of actually meeting Light and forcing him to make his next moves….He’s being force-of-nature aggressive….while having this…strange duality between cynicism and idealism where he almost wants to believe in the normalcy of Kira’s psyche, how no one can be so absolutely cruel as to kill someone without batting an eyelash…..

Somehow, I don’t believe for a second that he’s as listless and apathetic as he sometimes wants to appear. There are all these emotions brewing under the surface, barely masked by the “please” politeness, almost like I can see the “go fuck yourself” underneath haha. But there are times when he breaks that stance, for instance when he is confronted with the possibility of the shinigami being real, which disrupts his whole thinking system. That’s what he’s reacting to, to the internal earthquake (which he quickly tries to rationalize away), not out of fear of the supernatural... Also, I love his instinctive spasm of a reaction in the manga, compared to the long-drawn panic mode in the anime (completely out of character and unjustified imo)....

Aand...the reason I fell in love with him oh so many years ago. I mean, not The reason, but the moment where admiration morphed into love. The moment where he basically bled right there, emotionally, for Ukita. Now, I don't see it for one lousy second how Aizawa was abusive in his touch (he was just...having a normal emotional reaction using normal male tools), AND I don't interpret it as aversion to be touched, on L's part, as he is shown to shake hands with Light and such normal human interactions. What's happening here is his desperate attempt to remain in some semblance of control, to not let this whole situation unravel into tragedy (as he actually says, in so many words), not to break down emotionally under the weight of the guilt....for a man whose blood is directly on his hands, as well as the "precious lives" of the FBI agents. He is basically shaking with guilt and sorrow, and, of course, a little fear (he's human after all).

To be continued...

#l lawliet #death note #l death note #death note l #death note analysis #death note meta

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charlottan · 5 months

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every book i read at least a good chunk of in 2023 ranked under the cut grin😁

1. American Gods (2001) by Neil Gaiman (currently reading) - simply a terrific book. Neil Gaiman at what I believe to be his best. Classic novel

2. Dhalgren (1975) by Samuel R. Delaney (currently reading) - monolithic 70s postmodern book that touches on issues of gender and race. very very good

3. Shantaram (2003) by Gregory David Roberts (currently reading) - very loveable and long book about the true story of an Australian man, arrested on heroin charges, who escapes prison to India and gets involved in arms trading. I'm only on like page 70 out of 900 but I'm deeply in love.

4. Going Postal (2004) by Terry Pratchett (currently reading) - discworld’s postal service! Plenty of hijinks. excellent book

5. Catch-22 (1961) by Joseph Heller (currently reading) - classic anti war satire, what can you say. Still ridiculously funny, the humor really doesnt age at all. it’s very screwball in a way that holds up. Such a joy to read

6. Sirens of Titan (1959) by Kurt Vonnegut - beautiful book, definitely my favorite of the three Vonnys that i finished this year. you can feel his love, as always

7. Cloud Cuckoo Land (2021) by Anthony Doerr- Charming book that spans multiple characters and time periods, all concerned with an ancient codex that symbolizes a sense of faith. I don't really remember this one much but I know I had a lot of fun reading it. Would recommend to anybody

8. Hell’s Angels (1967) by Hunter S. Thompson (currently reading) - very interesting book about, of course, the Hell’s Angels motorcycle club. Thompson becomes a fly on the wall, giving the reader a very, very, perhaps almost too close look at the bikers’ ways and rituals. Very good book if you’re into that sort of thing

9. Infinite Jest (1996) by David Foster Wallace (currently reading)- not much to say about the old Jest. classic annoying book. i read a good chunk this year :thumbsup:

10. Bag of Bones (1998) by Stephen King - average 90s era King. still just as gripping as his 70s and 80s work but with a more comfortable writing style i think. pretty good

11. Detransition, Baby (2021) by Torrey Peters (currently reading) - not much to say about this one really. Its pretty good so far though, pretty classic transfem lit

12. The Dead Zone (1979) by Stephen King - this book had a terrifically gripping second act but then it kindof goes off in a different direction in act 3. Or rather, it feels like act 3 could have been its own decent short story, with the first two acts together being their own novel.

13. Equal Rites (1987) by Terry Pratchett - transmasc king. Girl wants to be a wizard instead of a witch, average discworld novel, nothing memorable but still pretty good

14. Galapagos (1985) by Kurt Vonnegut - Ok vonny book. It definitely had some strong Vonny moments but overall felt a little Different from the rest of his stuff. But maybe in a good way

15. Deadeye Dick (1982) by Kurt Vonnegut - middling vonnegut novel. It was ok. But an ok kurt vonnegut book is still a really good book

16. On the Road (1957) by Jack Kerouac - classic beat novel. pretty good if you're into slice of life 1940s/50s stuff, which you probably arent, but if you are and you haven’t checked this out, go for it!

17. Nevada (2013) by Imogen Binnie - Decent, however it felt very bare bones in a way that, for instance, Detransition, Baby makes up for.

18. The Rum Diary (1998) by Hunter S. Thompson - To be honest I don’t remember this one At All but i know i read it in like 3 days so its gotta be good. Still cant put it too high in the ranking though sorry hunter

19. And the Hippos Were Boiled in Their Tanks (1945) by Jack Kerouac and William Burroughs - first ever book written by either of them, and it’s ok. It’s supposed to be a murder mystery but the murder doesnt happen until like the last 20 pages so idk

20. The Colour of Magic (1983) by Terry Pratchett - first discworld. Not that memorable but i wouldnt say it was bad either

21. 1Q84 (2009) by Haruki Murakami (dropped) - I really wanted to like this one. And i did, *mostly*. However, Murakami has this writing style that is obsessively technical and formal and makes for incredibly unnatural monologues, for one thing. This is just a personal preference though; I know it's very acclaimed. I'm honestly sad I couldn't make it past the writing style to enjoy it at least enough to make it through.

22. The Road (2006) by Cormac McCarthy (dropped) - too edgy

#book talk

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creative-caramel-coffee · 7 months

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CH 3 Ophidiophobia: Fear of snakes

Pairings: Wandanat x reader

Word count: 2.0K

Summary: Loki arrives as a snake, and you panic and try to stab him with a butter knife.

TW: Knife? Snakes. Panic (not attack just the regular kind). Mild description of shock and adrenaline.

A/n Ok so I’m not afraid of snakes but I have been in shock before, plus I’m a little bit of an adrenaline junkie (kinda) so I know what it's like. Hope you guys like this chapter. It’s been a while since I posted for the series. Sorry to everyone who’s been waiting I plan to be posting more soon (key word planning). I rather like how this turned out. Enjoy my traumatised little beans :) … also I’m Australian so i call it jam. Deal with it.

Nat had just gotten back from a mission; it wasn’t too bad, but it did mean that you and Wanda had been doing everything in your power to make her comfortable. You were in the kitchen making Nat her favourite to eat. PB and J sandwiches. You were lathering on the ingredients with great generosity, just the way Natasha liked it. Lots of jam and lots of peanut butter. You were humming the tune to a song by Rihanna you had been listening to lately and dancing around the kitchen. The rest of the team were around somewhere but nobody else was in the kitchen. Just you.

Screwing the lid back on the two jars you placed down the butter knife next to the three plates of sandwiches. One for each of you. Wanda was setting up the bedroom so you guys could have a movie day and you were also planning to grab a bunch of snacks from the cupboard for later, so you didn’t have to come back to the kitchen.

Opening the frigid you deposited the jars and went and found a tray to put all the stuff on. At this point you had moved from humming the song to singing it. You weren’t a bad singer, quite the opposite in fact. You had a lovely voice and as you grabbed the tray you were wiggling your hips to the beat. Something both of your girlfriends found cute and endearing, something they had told you many times in similar situations.

You turned around and set the tray down on the bench. Using the knife to cut the sandwiches the way your girls liked them. Nat liked hers in half diagonally. Wanda liked hers in four little triangles with the crusts cut off, much like a child which is something both you and Natasha teased her for. And you liked them the way you always did, the same as Natasha but without crusts like Wanda, you were the prefect mix of the both of them. The mediator in squabbles and the middle of all cuddles. You were the one that was probably babied the most but it felt nice to be loved in such a tender and compassionate way.

You had just finished the last of the delicate slicing when you glanced around, seeing nobody but your own reflection in the fridge door you smiled to yourself and licked the jam off the knife. Your mother would have had a conniption, you lost count of how many times you were scolded for licking knives as a child. Even if you were always careful to avoid the blade, you were young, not stupid. Except for that one time you cut your tongue on a tape measure but thats a story you would take with you to the grave, scar and all.

Drawing the knife away from your lips and licking the stick residue from the corners of your mouth you walked over to the sink and began to rinse the knife to put it in the high-powered dishwasher Tony had made … adjustments too. Somehow seeing the genius doing domestic tasks was always somewhat of a point of amusement for you and seemingly also the team. But all it had taken was an ask from pepper to “spruce up life around the tower” and the man had been following her like a puppy as she pointed out things for him to “improve.” You laughed at the memory, ever since Pepper had given the world Morgan, Tony was practically bending over backwards to do anything she asked of him and more. Poor guy. So very in love.

You had just gone to turn around to put the knife in what was basically a nuclear-powered dish-cleaning-germ-destroying machine, when you heard the unmistakeable hiss of your worst fear. You froze. Hearing the animal slither along the tiles. Gripping the knife harder in your hand you slowly turned on your heel to face it. The colour drained out of your face. Your hands shook slightly around the knife, and it took all your energy to swallow as your mouth suddenly felt very dry. Your heartbeat in your ears and you didn’t spare a thought as to how the huge beast of a snake managed to get into the tower.

Yellow eyes blinked back as you stared into the face of an emerald-green python. Its small fangs glinted with the reflection of the fluorescent lights of the kitchen ceiling. It hissed, its pink tongue darting in and out of its curved mouth. It stopped a meter away from you seemingly sizing you up. With what almost looked like a smile it opened its mouth giving you a front row seat to a perfect line of teeth that were razor sharp and you had no plans to prove that. It began to coil itself in and you were worried it was about to spring at you. Snakes did that right?

Holding the knife tighter you made a decision. In a fast movement you hurled the knife at the snake's head. You had seemed to catch it off guard as it watched the blade sail towards its face, arching nicely in the air. You had impeccable aim as always. But at the last possible minute it dodged, and the knife clattered to the floor behind it.

“Shit.” You swore. Now you had no weapon and no way out. The snake had you cornered against the bench. In other words, you were between a rock and a hard place, aka somewhere you didn’t want to be. With nothing to hold in your shaky hands you began to curl your fingers into fists and then relax them before repeating the movement. You were still terrified, if not even more so now you had nothing to defend yourself with.

At that movement the snake launched itself at you and you shut your eyes. However instead of the feeling of its fangs piercing your arms which had come up to cover your head, there was a bright flash of green which you saw even behind your closed eyes. Tentatively you peaked open a hesitant eye to look around. You heard laughing and your felt yourself trembling like a hairless cat in winter.

When all you saw was Loki you were ready to kill the frost giant. Before you could make any move, still running off adrenaline Wanda walked into the kitchen.

She paused at the sight. You were still curled in on yourself protecting your head while lock was bent at the waist, an arm on the counter to stabilise himself as he laughed.

“Whats going on in here?” Wanda asked her head tilting dangerously.

“You should have seen her face.” Loki said wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Wanda said taking in your fragile and scared state. She crossed the kitchen while Loki composed himself and you threw your body into her arms. With a small oomph noise, she caught you, wrapping her arms around your shaking torso and adding some delicious pressure to the hug you ground you and hopefully stave off any nastier symptoms of shock.

Loki had stopped laughing now and seemed almost concerned at your reaction. Wanda rubbed circles on your back as you shook evenly with small sobs which broke up the trembling. Over your shoulder Wanda glared at like with enough heat to melt a glacier. She mouthed to him ‘Talk. Now.’ With a glare shaper than his favourite dagger. Seeing no way out of this Loki stammered his explanation.

“Thor had told me of this mid-guardians fear of snakes…”

“You didnt.” Wanda growled protectively, and Loki swallowed trying to hide his fear of the witch, he was a god after all he shouldn’t be scared of mortals. But a protective Wanda was a dangerous creature after all.

“I did not realise it was so severe. My apologies Wanda.” He said.

“We will talk about this later and you will give Y/n a real apology.” She commanded. “Now leave, before a make you.” She said and Loki nodded and left in a flash of green that bounced off the walls of the kitchen.

Wanda drew a shaky breath to dispel her anger towards the god of mischief. Sure, it was in his nature to play pranks, but Wanda was fiercely protective over her girlfriends. She pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you continued to sob into her collar.

“Sh sh shhh its ok sweet girl. Im here. Im here baby. It's alright. He’s gone my love. There’s nothing that can hurt you now.” She said and held you close. You let out a small whimper and Wanda gently picked you up. You clung to her like a koala. Your legs wrapped around her waist and her hands under your thighs to hold you up. Your arms where wrapped around her neck and your cheek pressed into her covered chest. You sniffled softly as the tears still fell.

“Let’s go watch a movie with natty my baby girl.” Wanda said and she walked out using her magic to bring the snacks and sandwiches you had prepared earlier.

You nodded still not saying anything, emotionally drained. Worn out from the stress, shock and pure fear you felt. You hate snakes. They were a phobia of yours since you were a child. Wanda whispered soothing words in your hair and rubbed her nose on your cheek making you let out a water giggle.

“There’s my sweet little girl.” Wanda said and you blushed and buried your face in her neck making the woman coo at how cute you were. Walking back into the bedroom Wanda mentally informed nat of what had happened not wanting to bring it up again after you had begun to calm down. Nat gave a look saying she would fight Loki later and Wanda shook her head with a smile. She gently set you down in Nat’s open and waiting arms and you clung to her like you had to Wanda. Wanda passed Nat a sandwich and she grinned. Knowing you just wanted cuddles and could eat later. Wanda came and sat beside nat and placed a hand on your lower back ti rub soothing circles.

“You did it just the way i like Detka.” Nat said and you nodded softly into her chest. You were laid on top of her. Your legs either-side of her thighs as you wrapped your arms around her back. Your front flush to hers and face buried in her chest. Wanda chuckled softly at the position. It was one of your favoured ones. You turned your face to the side and your cheek smushed against Nat’s chest. You glared at her and poked your tongue out before burning your face again. Wanda only chuckled harder and nat paused her eat to rub your back.

“Are you being mean to wanda baby?” Nat said with a hint of amusement in her voice.

A small huffed out “no.” Was heard from the fabric of her shirt and Nat stifled a smile at your antics. They could hear the pout in your voice.

“Really now?” Nat said sounding amused. “Cuz, you know what happens with you are.” She said and you shuddered.

“No.” you said again and nat and wanda shared a demonic grin before they began to tickle you. You squealed and began laughing.

“S-stop. S-tooopp” you whined and after a bit both redheads relented.

“It's not fair your both not ticklish.” You huffed and Wanda and Nat laughed.

“Come here baby.” Wanda said and opened her arms.

“No. Comfy.” You pouted and wanda matched the expression.

“Then I’ll come to you.” Wanda moved closer and curled into Nat’s side throwing an arm over you. She had selected a romcom to watch and the three of your settled in for the movie. Wanda passed you the sandwich and you dropped crumbs on Nat’s shirt much to her amusement. After an afternoon of tlc and some much-needed cuddles. You were feeling much better. Loved. And all thoughts of snakes gone from the crevices of your mind.

MASTERLIST

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ziorite · 2 months

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buckle up lads— i’ve played cello since before kindergarten and even if i’m no virtuoso, i’m about to unleash my thoughts on the scheherazade job upon the world anyways.

look, if hardison was good enough to play the scheherzade solo at fourteen there’s just no way he sounds that shit even if he hasn’t touched the instrument for ten years. he’s supposed to have been the most promising violinist in the city which has to be stiff competition because most classically trained string players start playing young. like three to five years old young. and we know hardison was a foster kid so he almost certainly started later than most. obviously he was talented, but now he can’t even play a scale? it just doesn’t make sense to me from what i know. i’ve gone a month without touching my cello and pretty much hopped straight back into the stuff i was practicing before after fifteen minutes of warm up. the knowledge of how to hold a bow and pull it across the string and make quality sound is the kind that doesn’t leave you— for anyone of teenage hardison’s supposed skill, that instinct is part of you for LIFE. so no, the persistent portrayal of present day hardison as completely incompetent just doesn’t sit right with me.

but that doesn’t mean i think he could pull off scheherazade’s solo without nate’s rather convenient hypnosis. so i googled around and here’s the sheet music:

to be honest i thought it would be absolute batshit crazy the way they treated it in the show. the shifts are kind of crazy but i can see a very dedicated fourteen year old who practiced the shit out of this solo being able to play it. not to say it’s not still hard! there are some SERIOUS high notes that you’d be hard pressed to hit perfectly every time even with weeks of practice under your belt. shit makes me sweat and i don’t even play that instrument.

it’s a damn impressive solo for a teenager to be playing and an absolutely deranged one to try and perform on such little notice. that’s why i need someone to rewrite the scheherazade job with more focus on hardison and his violin dammit! i feel like hardison would be able to bluff his way through the other parts of the piece with enough practice in the time he has before the job, but there’s just no way he’d be able to play that solo on his own after ten years of not touching the violin. he might not even be able to practice during all the time he has— his calluses would be gone!! that’s a whole other story!!

string instruments strings are vicious y’all. and a VAST majority of the scheherazade solo is on the teeny tiny e string that basically slices through raw fingertips. i can barely make it through five minutes of dedicated practice shifting around on my thinnest string and i’ve had my calluses built up for years; i can file these babies with a nail file and poke a hot pan with them— they get pretty damn thick, and hardison’s working with nuthin y’all. you can only go so far before you give yourself an actual blister you physically cannot play on.

as a result, i feel like hardison would’ve let nate hypnotize him if ONLY the oily little slime ball (with hate and love) had told him. i really don’t understand why nate didn’t say anything until the first place. aren’t they supposed to have learned that you’re not supposed to con your own crew already?? (not that i think nate would ever really take that to heart.)

anyways, that’s my hardison-should-be-better-at-violin propaganda as well as my why-the-scheherazade-job-needs-to-be-rewritten manifesto. maybe i’ll write it myself one of these days— leverage brainrot is real and it is a sickness. hope this 2 am rant didn’t disrupt anyone’s dashes too much!

#leverage #the scheherazade job #alec hardison #hardison #aldis hodge #leverage meta #nathan ford #nate ford

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spro-o · 1 month

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okay, so,,, i got back to reading 4kota, and i have so many thoughts of literally every nature

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR 4KOTA, NATURALLY!

okay so, allow me to rant a lil

bro why the actual fuck is Arthur just magical hitler now?? 😭 like hello???? it genuinely makes me really sad because he was such a sweet and likable character for most of 7ds and now he wants to create an ethnostate for humans only???? it just breaks my heart, man

SAME WITH JERICHO LIKE HELLO? QUEEN, YOURE BETTER THAN THIS. genuinely tho- nakaba try not to make all your characters pedos challenge (impossible). there are literally so many other ways in which Jericho could have ended up in a similar situation, but nakaba really just chose pedophilia? it couldve been something along the same lines just without the romantic attraction!! a family bond can be just as strong- and it couldve been something like her losing Lancelot or in some other way letting him down, and then thinking that he despises her and holds onto that grudge (which, judging his character it wouldve probably been a small spat that he got over) - but maybe Jericho didnt understand that, or wasnt ready to face him, expecting him to be livid - so she asked for an alternative reality where that didnt happen and they got along great as sister/brother or master/trainee. i wouldnt put Jericho past being so stubborn that she wouldnt believe when Lance would say that he forgave her, and then boom!! same set-up, just without the nasty pedophilia!!

ON THE NOTE OF WHICH- (theres so much of that garbage in nakaba's writing, fucks sake) - i genuinely hate the whole thing happening with Guinevere. the whole non-consensual kiss from a 12 year old to a 16 year old (ewwwww) is one thing, but then when Lance is reflecting on that interaction and he SMILES????

you have no idea how much this panel killed me to see. Lancelot youre better than this,,,, 4 years is not a big age difference when youre in your 30's, but when youre 16???? please,,,, cmon now,,,

speaking of whommmmm~~ ,,, I ADORE LANCELOT!! SO MUCH!! this is to be expected considering i love Ban, bUT- hes genuinely just such a cool and wonderful character that has some sense in him. i especially loved those panels where he was like jumping around to get himself hyped up cuz like!! Ban does that!!!! i love,,,,

elizabeth (looking gorge btw, i love that for her) is unfortunately reduced to an object of fondling yet again 😔 literally like the second panel that shes in and shes getting grabbed and groped by Meliodas?? it just feels mad disrespectful to her really deep character that she has such a minor role when you ignore her being sexualised by Mel (in reality nakaba, but i digest)

i love that panel where Anne tells Isolde about what chastity actually is hbghjnhbjh

I FEEL SO BAD FOR NASIENS WHEN PERCY IS ALL UP IN ANNES BOOBS. genuinely- the dropped bag, and all of he blushing that happened before it during their interactions,,,, that shit broke my heart, man

nakaba try not to draw teenagers naked challenge (impossible) (chapter 86 cover)

this is literally like the cutest fucking thing ever????? i want more calm, slice of life stuff for our skrunglies. they deserve a break

someone, please, stop all this shit going on with Guinevere (writing this while reading chp 87) – I really despise the fact that nakaba has to make like literally all of the relationships either look like they have a massive age gap (Ban and Elaine), or actually have a fucking criminal age gap (Mel and Ellie). it really is not that difficult to just write a relationship where there is a <2 year age gap, did you know that, nakaba?? crazy, I know (deadass, while I don’t ship them, it would at least be bearable if she was also like 15-16, just not 12 TT)

chion is such a fucking pain in the ass oh mah gahhhhhh

I love Gawain’s lesbian antics <3

At this point, though I love seeing the characters interact in more casua circumstances, id rather have more fight scenes than god awful, shoe-horned romances between any two characters of the opposite gender (exceptions being Nasiens and Gawain, my sillies <3)

okay,,, thats it for now, but do expect more at some point or another huiyuvghbijhb

#4kota spoilers #4kota #mokushiroku no yonkishi #nnt #rant #4kota manga #lancelot 4kota #tristan 4kota #percival #lancelot #guinevere #gawain #spoilers

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connan-l · 1 month

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Now that Season 7's first trailer is out, it slightly validated some of my theories about which chapters is going to be adapted — so I decided to make a prediction of what Seasons 7 & 8 could looks like (I mean, we still don't have any confirmation for Season 8, but there's no way we don't get it, right?) I'm probably going to be very wrong but it was fun to try and think about!

I'm going to make the assumption that we'll get 13 episode instead of 11 because of something fun I found out: so far there's been 74 episodes of NatsuYuu (OVAs notwithstanding), which means that if we add two seasons of 13 episodes we'll reach the 100 :) So I hope we actually do get 13 episodes this time (I've also seen some people wondering if we'll exceptionnally get a 22 or 26 episodes season because of the 15th/20th years anniversary, which could be fun but I doubt they'll do that sadly).

Season 7:

Episode 1: Chapter 84 (Mini-Nyanko) Episode 2: Chapter 80 (Yorishima intro) Episode 3: Chapter 77 (Hakozaki 2) Episode 4: Chapter 83 (Kitamoto bookstore) Episode 5: Special 17/84.5 (Teen Matonato 2) Episode 6: Chapters 95 & 96 (Isamu arc) Episode 7: Chapter 81 (Flower bed) Episode 8: Chapters 92-94 (Miharu arc) Episode 9: Chapters 92-94 (Miharu arc) Episode 10: Chapter 87 (Nishimura) Episode 11: Special 8/31.5 (Chobi special) Episode 12: Chapters 88 & 89 (Souko arc) Episode 13: Chapters 88 & 89 (Souko arc)

Season 8:

Episode 1: Chapter 71 (Ake & Shiro) Episode 2: Special 14/67.5 (Birds & Reiko) Episode 3: Chapters 106 & 107 (Yorishima arc 2) Episode 4: Chapters 90 & 91 (Tenjou-san/painting arc) Episode 5: Special 19/89.5 (Matoba station) Episode 6: Chapters 85 & 86 (Tanatsutaki inn arc) Episode 7: Chapters 85 & 86 (Tanatsutaki inn arc) Episode 8: Chapter 99 (Origami) Episode 9: Chapter 108 (Chobi) Episode 10: Chapters 100-104 Homura arc Episode 11: Chapters 100-104 Homura arc Episode 12: Chapters 100-104 Homura arc Episode 13: Chapter 105 (Post-Homura)

For Season 7: I know some people wish the season could start with the exorcist chapters, but I think it makes more sense we begin with a ‘normal’ slice-of-life Natsuyuu episode rather than the more heavy stuff. It’s been seven years, after all; they need to reestablish the series’ characters and world properly, and I think chapter 84 with the clay mini-nyanko is th best one for that. I mean, in this chapter we have: Natsume returning a name, mentions of Reiko & the book, cameos of Tanuma and the Fujiwaras (the anime could probably briefly add Kitanishi, Taki & Sasada too), and a bittersweet story about a yokai Natsume befriends — so I think it’s perfect for a new start to a new season. Then it makes sense to follow this up with the exorcist stuffs in episodes 2 & 3. I'm hesitating which one would go first though; if we follow the manga chronologically then it would be the Hakozaki one, but I think they'll likely choose to reintroduce Natori first... I do believe it's important to introduce Yorishima early on too so that they can later adapt the second Yorishima arc in Season 8, to really establishes him as this new important recurrent character. (Though I wonder if 2 exorcist episodes side-by-side would be too much, so maybe they'll adapt Yorishima intro for ep2, then have another slice-of-life episode, then have the Hakozaki chapter.... who knows)

After that I’m no sure on the order, but there must also be the Taki brother arc for a Taki-focused episode, then the Kitamoto & Nishimura chapters. I think it’d makes sense to adapt both of the Kitanishi chapters in season 7 so that then in season 8 they could adapt the Tenjou-san/painting arc in order to make it feel balanced (or they could do the reverse and adapt Tenjou-san arc before in season 7, but I think it's better if it comes after). And then have the flower bed chapter as another slice-of-life episode (which I think is important to have before the Souko arc thematically). Not gonna lie it really frustrates me that they decided to adapt the Tanuma & Misuzu chapters in a movie, because now Tanuma doesn’t have his own arc like Taki has :( At least he still appears more than her in other arcs, but they’re not focused on him so it’s not the same.

So the Chobi special from Volume 8 might seems weird to be in season 7, and admittedly I doubt it'll ever be adapted (maybe in an OAV?? But who knows) - but I thought about it because of Chapter 108 which is also centered on Chobi. Having the Chobi special before Chapter 108 seemed logical to me, though there's more chance we'll get another special like Special 14 or 18. (UNLESS they manage to adapt the Chobi special with Chapter 108 in a single episode... I dunno).

And there's no way they don't adapt the second teen Natori special, which has to be before Miharu arc. I think the Miharu arc will happens either in the middle or towards the end of the season, but I believe having Souko's arc as the final would be pretty emotionally impactful, with ideally 2 episodes. It’s the origin of the Book of Friends after all, so it’s important to really highlight it (though I doubt they'll do that unfortunately, I think they'll likely try to cram everything into a single episode as usual with the 2 chapters arcs -_-).

For Season 8: I think it makes sense to start with slice-of-life chapters with this season too, but admittedly I wasn't really sure which one. The Ake & Shiro or the origami chapters seems the more likely. Then there's still Special 14, which could also make a fun slife-of-life episode.

The Tenjou-san/painting arc and then the Noren inn arc in this season was more fitting than the last in order to balance the focus on Natsume's school friends - and like I said earlier, even though chronologically it happens later in the manga I think they will adapt the second Yorishima arc as well here. I think it’d make sense they decide to adapt the special with Matoba here too (It could be in Season 7 I suppose? But then it would a wayyy too exorcist-focused season).

What I’m the most confident in is that they’ll decide to end Season 8 with the Homura arc, and that it’ll take 3 episodes. This is such a long, important arc, and if they don’t mess it up it would make an amazing final; especially if after that we don’t get another new season until at least a few years.

(Hopefully we won’t have to wait 6 years for Season 9 afterwards… There was 2 years between Season 2 and Season 3, and then 4 years between Season 4 and Season 5, so if Season 8 is released in 2025 then I hope we’ll get Season 9 in like. 2028-2029. please.)

Anyway, just for fun I tried to imagine what a Season 9 could look like too:

Season 9:

Episode 1: Chapters 109 & 110 (Kaka arc) Episode 2: Chapters 117 & 118 (Occult salon arc) Episode 3: Chapter 112 (Taki Matoba tea party) Episode 4: Chapters 113-116 (Younger Cousin arc) Episode 5: Chapters 113-116 (Younger Cousin arc) Episode 6: Chapters 113-116 (Younger Cousin arc) Episode 7: Chapter 111 (Tanatsukitanishi beach) Episode 8: Chapter 120 (Hakozaki 3) Episode 9: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 10: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 11: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 12: Chapters 121-126 (Portrait of a Girl arc) Episode 13: Chapters 127 (Homura cats returns)

This would make for a super plot-heavy season, but well all the recent arcs ARE very plot-focused lol. I initially thought that maybe the Portrait of a Girl arc could make it more to a potential Season 10 while the younger cousin arc could the final for Season 9, but ending the season on such a personal, Natori-focused arc like that would be a bit... strange. So! If we have Portrait of a Girl as a final, I think it makes sense for the occult salon arc to be at the very start of the season to introduce Shinobu and Clara (I vaguely thought it would be fun if they introduced them in Season 8, but the idea of a whole season where we start with the looming threat of Matoba's mysterious sister only to have her identity revealed at the very end is really cool too). I think the beach chapter too could be nice after the Natori arc as a sort of break before we got back into the heavy plot stuff with the 3rd Hakozaki chapter. I gave Portrait of a Girl 4 episodes here because I think it's what it wolud need to be properly adapted (it IS the longest arc to date after all, with 6 chapters!) but because of that I had to scrap the Hinoe chapter (which could then be adapted into Season 10). However I think it's more likely they adapt it into a three-episodes arc sadly (same thing with the Younger Cousin arc, they'll probably cram it into 2 episodes rather than three...)

And here it is haha. Can't wait to see how completely false my predictions will be lol.

Following this, the still unadapted chapters would include: Chapter 119 (Hinoe/Natsume crossdressing), Chapter 128 (current arc) that would fit into Season 10, then Special 18 (Nyanko meets little boy), Special 20 (movie special), Special 21 (little traveling yokai), Special 22 (Ribbon Nyanko & Mana Kitamoto), all of which could either fit in Season 10 or in an OAV.

#Natsume Yuujinchou #NatsuYuu #Natsume's Book of Friends #Natsuchou #Natsume Takashi #Nyanko-sensei #Natsume

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halfghostwriter · 1 year

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Wraith Radio Pt. 2

Part 1

“You’re listening to Wraith Radio, your number one link to the living realm. I’m your host, the wandering ghost, Ellie Phantom. It’s day two of my adventure in Gotham City, and I gotta say, today was… wild. Bit of context for those who missed the start of yesterday’s show, long story short, I publicly told the Red Hood that I would wait for him at this place called Park Row so I could take him to a doctor in the ghost zone because his body is bad.

After I ended the show, I got this call from my cousin, Danny. He and his friends back in Amity had been listening, and they think that, because I never showed off any of my powers or anything, and cause I look like any other human, he might not have actually believed I was a ghost. Which, fair, I guess.

So now I’m thinking, ‘well, no big deal, I can just show him my ghost form.’ Buuuuut then I remember the stupid amount of curses and stuff all around this city, and as part of the ghost population who technically never experienced death— no, that time I melted does not count— I’d like to prolong that experience for as long as possible if you don’t mind. Where was I? Oh right, so now I’m thinking, ‘well, no problem, I can just open up a portal, bring him to the zone, and transform there.’ Quick, simple, no problem.

So we come to today. I’m at the meeting spot, it’s five minutes to the meeting time, and I’m sitting on the edge of this rooftop, keeping an eye out for the arrival of the Red Hood.

And then a building blows up.

Right across the street, the top floor of this sketchy run down place I had been staring at, just. Boom! And then I hear all these gunshots, and screaming, and I look down at my watch, and I have about four minutes before noon, so I turn invisible, float over, and poke my head through the wall. Right there, center of the room, I see Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Red Hood fighting this… I dunno, skinny twink with like a burlap sack over his head? Look, it took me a week to memorize the Gotham vigilante’s names and costumes alone, I wasn’t going out of my way to look up their entire rogues gallery. But anyway, they’re fighting this guy and a bunch of people who I assume are working for this guy, and I see some people tied up in the corner screaming their heads off for no clear reason. I mean, yes, I know it’s scary being tied up by an evil scarecrow of a man, but when I say screaming, I don’t mean ‘please, save me, I’m in distress’ screaming, I mean ‘the soulshredder just sliced through me and now I’m seeing my worst fears manifested in front of my eyes’ screaming.

So I get a little closer, I land on the floor, and just, to go off on a bit of a tangent for a second, the Gotham vigilantes are just. So much taller than me. I felt so incredibly tiny being in the same room as them. Like, yeah, I know I’m short, but I had hoped that I would at least be the same height as Robin, but no. I swear, every time I stand next to someone who’s supposed to be close to my ‘physical’ age, I become more and more convinced that the billionaire who made me had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He brought me to life and was like ‘you’re a twelve year old!’ and I was like ‘you’re right!’ because I had no frame of reference because I was born that morning. Anyway, so I get closer to the screeching humans being held against their will, and I feel this scratchy, almost burning feeling in the back of my throat. I try to brush it off, but then I look down, and I see my body fucking melting.

Now this isn’t be my first time melting, so my first thought isn’t ‘oh god I’m gonna go from half to full ghost,’ or even ‘ugh this shit again,’ but rather ‘why the fuck doesn’t this hurt?’ Because I know exactly what melting is supposed to feel like, and it isn’t a feeling you can just ignore. Like, I can’t really describe it to someone who’s never had every muscle in their body suddenly coalesce into one, with every attached nerve ending screaming louder than a heavy metal band, but trust me when I say that the “pain” I was feeling was barely anything compared to actually melting, like it felt more like my skin was itchy than anything. So, I try poking one of the places where my body is melting— don’t ask me why, I don’t really know why I did it— and instead of feeling ectoplasm drip over my hands, I just feel… my arm. And I realize, ‘oh, not only is this just an illusion, it’s a shitty one.’ Or, y’know, at the very least one that doesn’t work too well on a halfa.

So I shake that off, cause yeah, I don’t like seeing myself melt again, but as long as it’s not actually happening again, I’m good. Plus, if it does start again, I do still have my extra ecto dejectos in my bag, and yes, Danny, I will call you if it actually happens, sorry if I almost gave you a heart attack a few minutes ago. Anyway, I turn back to all the tied up screaming people, and I notice these, like, fog-machine-looking-thing next to all of them, and I get closer to one, and the scratchy feeling at the back of my throat gets worse, so now I’m thinking ‘oh, this must be what’s causing everyone to see things.’ So I turn my arm intangible, stick it into this machine, and I pull out this bottle of just… the worst smelling chemicals I’ve ever been near, which is saying a lot for someone born and raised in a basement lab. But, it stops the fog machine, so I plug it with some stuff from my bag, and pocket it so I can’t smell it anymore. I keep doing this to each of the nearby machines, and eventually the front pocket of my bag is just completely stuffed with gross chemicals.

So that’s over with, and I look over to see if the fight’s done, but no, they’re all still going at it, which means I still can’t talk to Red Hood and get him to the Zone, so I figure I have some time to kill. And I remember that there’s, like, ten or so people tied up against their will, so I start freeing all of them. Obviously, the ropes themselves are really easy, all I really need to do is phase them off. The people, on the other hand, are crazy hard to get to actually do anything other than scream. Like, I try pushing people towards the exit, I try dragging them across the floor, anything to get them to leave the building which is— in case you forgot— on fire. I mean it’s just the top floor, but I’ve heard from Ember that a fire anywhere in the house could be the cause of a human’s death, especially if no one’s watching it, and I doubt that anyone is actually watching that fire.

So now I’m kinda panicking, cause I was hoping the fight would be over by now and all these people would have been brought outside, but not only is the fight not over, I look over and see the bad guy throw these cans over at the people, and I realize that they’re giving off the exact same poison-fog as the machines from earlier. And I’m just. So pissed off. Like, I just took care of that!! For all I knew, that illusion stuff could’ve worn off in a few minutes, and I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping all these people alive!!

Side note— Danny. I get it now. I get the whole ‘desperate need to protect any and all humans’ feeling you were talking about.

They are just… so easy to put into danger.

Holy shit.

Anyway, I’m feeling that whole ‘selfless anger on behalf of strangers’ thing for the first time, and I think it turns my brain off, cause I just pick up the cans and throw them at the bad guys head while yelling ‘FUCK YOU, DIPSHIT!’

And my invisibility drops.

So.

Not my best decision.

But not my worst, because my aim was perfect.

I’m pretty sure I knocked him unconscious, but I’ll be honest I wasn’t really paying attention to that guy anymore because I had just revealed one of my abilities— not to mention I think my eyes were glowing— in front of the fucking Batman. Now, I don’t know if the rumors about him hating metas are true, but I do know that most humans fucking hate ghosts, that I definitely don’t know what he thinks I am, and that I’m not risking my ass to find out. So, invisibility goes back up, and I start to book it before I remember that the whole fucking reason I showed up was to help out Red Hood. So I take a flyer, write “sorry, try again tomorrow?” on the back, and then I get the fuck out.

I wind up flying so fast back to this little hideout I’m staying at that I guess I wound up jostling some things in my bag? Yeah, by the time I get back, I feel this… leaking through my bag. And I take it off, so I can check out the damage, and uh…

Ok, so remember how I mentioned those ecto dejectos I keep on me? Well, I tend to keep them in the front pocket. And the scary-illusion-liquid-stuff was also put in the front pocket. And one of the bottles and an ecto-dejecto hit each other just a bit too hard. And apparently. When these two things are combined. You get… a blob ghost. Who only knows how to melt.

I’ve named him Goop, and he’s the most pathetic creature I’ve seen in my life. He just melts until all of his body is liquid, then it all just blorps back together. He’s solid for like a second, then he starts to melt again. Also he keeps trying to drink the scary-illusion-liquid. I’ve been holding him in my lap this entire time, and while he’s not hard to stop, I do still need to sleep, so if anyone has any advice on how to handle a mutant blob ghost, I’m all ears. Also, if theres any specific way to get rid of mysterious chemicals that honestly shouldn’t exist, please tell me, otherwise I’m just gonna find a sink and dump it.

Anyway, that’s enough about my day, onto things I’ve heard about the city…”

————————

The batfam stared silently at the glowing radio that Jason had brought.

And an unspoken agreement was reached.

Meta, ghost, whatever— this was a child with absolutely no adult supervision, severe trauma, an unknown set of powers, and a ridiculous amount of fear toxin. Not to mention something that she described to be a “mutant blob ghost.”

It was time to do a bit of research into the kid.

Or, it would, were it not for the fact that “Wraith Radio” didn’t seem to exist online, nor did “Ellie Phantom.” It was also likely she used a fake name for her show, since there didn’t seem to be any records of an “Ellie Phantom” anywhere.

Of course, that wasn’t enough to deter them. After all, she herself had mentioned her family.

And so, they began looking into Amity and her cousin, Danny.

#danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp #danielle phantom #wraith radio

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cuffmeinblack · 5 months

Text

You Need Only Ask

Garreth Weasley x Ominis Gaunt

Christmas Special

Tags: fluff | slice of life | past trauma | light angst 5.3k words

Summary: Garreth is determined to make Christmas extra special for Ominis and Sebastian, with a bit of Weasley hospitality.

ao3 link

A/n: Technically chapter eight, yet could be read as a standalone because it's just slice of life stuff. Ominis and Garreth are very much in love and share a flat with Sebastian, that's the plot. This is the second fic I've written this year with a Weasley family Christmas, albeit a different generation. What can I say, it's comforting.

Christmas was a joyous occasion, or so Ominis had been told. He supposed the festivities could be fun in a place like Hogwarts, and the food rather marvellous, but for the most part he despised the holiday and all its associations. His hatred set him apart from the rest of his colleagues, who decorated their office with gaudy garlands and an offensively large fir tree that always seemed to snag on his clothes. This was but another trait to thank his wonderful family for. As wizards and muggles alike had settled into their cosy traditions, Tiberius Gaunt had much more sinister motivations. He used the celebrations as an opportunity to lure unsuspecting Muggles, inebriated and distracted, to their manor with promises of extravagance for the festive season. Homeless men and women were offered shelter, food, and drink, all in the name of good will.

These were Ominis' victims.

His source of deepest shame, and the screams he heard in his worst nightmares.

For months he'd been dreading the invitation he knew would be coming, and on the first of December no less it arrived. Not by owl, but by Garreth bounding into their flat and announcing it to Ominis and Sebastian, to be met only with silence. The pair had been quietly reading in the living room, an armchair each and heads buried in their own books, only to be startled out of their concentration by the exuberant redhead. Garreth stammered at their lack of response, but ever the optimist and always keen for a party, he decided to try to change their minds.

“Oh, come on! Do you really want to hang around here for Christmas on our own?”

“Actually, yes,” Ominis said.

“There’ll be loads of food, mum makes the best mince pies. Wait until you’ve tried the pudding! I’ll bet she’d make roast beef for you too, Ominis…”

“I wouldn't mind…”

“There, Sebastian’s already on board!”

Ominis calmly tucked a bookmark between the pages and stowed his wand, placing the hardback next to him as he gathered his thoughts. Of course Sebastian knew exactly why Ominis was so hesitant. He’d told his best friend many years ago, though only once and never again. After that, Sebastian had insisted that Ominis spend his Christmas holidays with him in Feldcroft. This was Ominis’ first festive season with Garreth, and there were still things he’d not yet revealed about his family; whether through shame or because the right opportunity hadn’t presented itself, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have, yet there was no hiding from it now.

“Sebastian, can we have some privacy?” Ominis asked quietly.

He didn't hear his friend reply, met only the shuffle of paper, the shift of weight off the creaking armchair and footsteps receding into silence.

“What’s wrong?” Garreth asked as soon as the door shut behind Sebastian.

He sounded worried, and Ominis felt a surge of guilt for having dampened his spirits so quickly and thoroughly.

“Sit next to me?”

He was soon enveloped by Garreth’s warmth, large hands wrapping his and the press of a firm thigh as he squeezed himself into the chair. Ominis rearranged himself to be practically on Garreth’s lap, not minding the closeness as he barely managed to whisper his explanation.

“I haven’t celebrated Christmas for…well, for as long as I can remember. As a child, my family only used it as an excuse for their sick little games. What celebration could be complete without Muggle torture, after all?”

Ominis exhaled deeply and let out a shaky sigh, recalling the very worst of those memories whilst Garreth waited patiently. His hands were sweaty.

“I remember the Christmas before I went to Hogwarts most vividly. Perhaps my family knew that it would be my last in their company. I never…participated as willingly as my brother. They made sure that I did that year. Christmas Eve, the very last time I cast the cruciatus curse.”

Ominis' shudder seemed to shake the furniture and Garreth gripped him tighter, almost suffocating him with his concern. Ominis thought he might just throw up after confessing such a thing, expecting Garreth to sprint out of the door of their shared home, to never return. Sometimes he thought that it was what he deserved; no matter how much he atoned for his sins, some things could never be forgiven. Garreth had a pure heart, and it was a testament to just how good he was that he didn't hesitate to turn Ominis' face to meet him, their foreheads pressing together as if he were trying to wordlessly absorb Ominis' pain.

“I’m so sorry, my love. That's…disgusting. And you were just a child...”

“You see why my association with Christmas isn't quite normal.”

“I do, but I want to change that.”

“Garreth…”

“Christmas is about family, and being with the people you love. You're…you're my family now, and I want to spend it with you, as it should be. You deserve so much more than what your family gave you…”

Ominis’ heart swelled in his chest, the love he had for Garreth threatening to overflow and smother his niggling doubt and trepidation. It meant so much to Garreth, ever the family man—how could Ominis keep him from them, or worse, make him choose?

“I can't promise I'll be entirely present.”

“I understand. If you want to leave, we can. I know my mum wants to see you, and Sebastian…she's been banging on about it in her owls for weeks now.”

Ominis smiled despite himself. Feeling wanted was a rather new experience, one which he didn't plan to snub.

“I'll come, Garreth.”

Ominis was promptly wrapped up in Garreth's arms, his face nestled amongst wild curls laced with his familiarly spicy scent. He was right, of course—this strange little trio was Ominis' family now, and the Weasleys had all but adopted him into their clan. If anyone could convince him that Christmas was worth celebrating, it was them.

Garreth has started counting the days to Christmas as soon as Ominis had accepted his mum's invitation. He had work to do now, to make Garreth's favourite time of year Ominis' too. Whilst he had grand plans for new brews (and rent to pay besides), he dedicated every spare minute doing all the things he associated with the festive season. Having heard Ominis' frequent grumblings about ‘that damned tree’ at work, he'd decided a little work was in order for that particular tradition.

“What in Merlin's name is that?”

Ah, Sebastian was home, then.

The tired auror-in-training limped into the living room as Garreth was finishing the final touches to his masterpiece and the mince pies he'd baked cooled on the windowsill. They were slightly burnt, but only because he'd been so distracted by what stood in front of him.

“What's wrong with you?” Garreth asked, noticing the way Sebastian was walking. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks. It stinks in here, what did you burn?”

Sebastian flopped into an armchair, loosening his waistcoat and ruffling his hair whilst trying to mask the grimace as his leg bent at an awkward angle.

“Nothing, probably a sprain. I haven't had a chance to do anything about it until now,” he replied, pulling out his wand. “Anyway, you've not answered me—what is that?”

“What does it look like?”

“It looks like a bloody great tree in the middle of our living room. I thought Ominis said no tree.”

“Yes but this one has a cushioning and repellant charm around it so it won't snag on his clothes! I've also enchanted it to stay fresh without water.”

Garreth sniffed the air and sighed. “That fresh fir smell…”

Sebastian was busy muttering a healing charm over his ankle, paying no attention to Garreth's ramblings. Clearly he had his work cut out for him when it came to getting his flatmates into the Christmas spirit.

“I don't know why you've gone to so much trouble,” he finally said.

“Because, it's exciting. Doing all this…it's not just for me. Did you not celebrate when you were younger?”

“When I was much younger, when my parents were still alive…”

Sebastian stared at the floor, deep in thought, and Garreth waited as he clearly had more to say. He placed his wand in his pocket and perched next to his plate of mince pies, staving off the desire to nibble on the pastry.

“Christmas was always so magical as a kid, with Anne…it hasn't been the same since I lost my family. Me and Ominis, we just try to forget.”

“I can take this all down if you want…”

“No, leave it. It's actually nice. Doesn't feel quite as weird as putting them up in Feldcroft.”

Garreth nodded, fighting back the urge to hug Sebastian—that would have been a step too far even for their growing friendship. Instead, he picked up the plate next to him and walked over to where Sebastian was now slumped, looking just about done with the day despite the early hour.

“Mince pie?” Garreth offered with a warm smile.

Sebastian took one and without even a second to inspect it, took a large bite out of the pie, pastry flaking onto his smart black suit. There was a time when he'd refuse anything Garreth offered him for fear of being spiked with some experimental potion. Sebastian's trust meant a lot to Garreth, and not only because it meant a lot to Ominis.

“Mm-…this is really good.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” Garreth chuckled.

On Christmas Day, unexpectedly, Ominis woke first. He drifted into consciousness still clinging to a dream that faded with every groggy second; something comforting and sweet that had his chest fluttering. It took him a few seconds to remember today's occasion, laying silently and listening to the pigeons cooing and Garreth's gentle snores. With a groan, he tried to drift off again, burying his head into his boyfriend's hair, yet his mind had finally cleared from its sleep state, rushing and turbulent in its thoughts. He patted the bedside table, over his wand, until he reached a small clock. His fingers drifted over the hands, discerning that it was just past six o’clock.

Well, time for a cup of tea, then.

“Garreth,” he whispered.

“Hmm? Ominis?”

“Good morning. And Merry Christmas.”

“Mm…oh! Christmas!”

Garreth sat bolt upright, almost knocking Ominis out of bed, for which he apologised profusely whilst attacking him with kisses like a lovesick puppy.

“Garreth…Garreth!”

“Right, sorry. Breakfast? What's the time? Six?!”

“I know, I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep. I wondered if you wanted a cup of tea in bed.”

“May as well get up now, we can open our presents,” Garreth said, the smile on his face obvious by the tone of his voice.

Ominis allowed himself a few more seconds pressing kisses into Garreth's heated skin before dragging himself out of bed, immediately missing the warmth of their duvet. The flat was cold, the fireplaces empty overnight, so Ominis wrapped himself in a dressing gown, donned his slippers and set to work warming the place with his magic. He could hear Garreth hopping about on the floorboards as he struggled to dress,far too excited for what to Ominis was yet another day. Yet he knew to Garreth, it was one of the highlights of his year, as with millions of others; witches, wizards and muggles alike.

A cup of tea did him wonders, clearing the cobwebs from his brain whilst Garreth started cooking breakfast. Ominis wasn't hungry, but he could eat, and the smell really was delicious. Bacon, sausages and eggs were sizzling away and filling the flat with an aroma that tempted his saliva glands into action. It didn't take long for all of Garreth's clattering about to rouse Sebastian, the first sound from his mouth a loud groan as he shuffled into the kitchen.

“Merry Christmas, Sebastian!” Garreth called over the scraping and clinking of food being plated up.

“Yeah, Happy Christmas…why are we awake? What's the point in having a day off work if we're going to wake up in the dark?”

“Let Garreth have his day, Sebastian. Don't be such a Scrooge,” Ominis chided, hiding a smirk behind his teacup.

“You read that book, then?”

“Dickens? Yes, I did.”

“And did it get you into the Christmas spirit?” Sebastian asked, sitting next to him at the kitchen table.

“Marginally.”

“Well, here's some more Christmas spirit,” Garreth said, with yet more accompanying noise.

Breakfast was served, along with another pot of tea and some sort of sickly sweet cream liqueur with cinnamon, that Garreth insisted they all try to ‘start the day off right’.

“What exactly is it?” Sebastian asked.

Ominis took a sip of the drink, raising his eyebrows in pleasant surprise as the liquid warmed his insides with just the right amount of spice and a little something that seemed to give him a burst of energy.

“You know I can't tell you my recipes. Suffice it to say, it's next on my list to find a distributor.”

“It's delicious…right, I'm going to get showered and dressed and then we can open our presents,” Ominis announced, his chair scraping along the floor as he stood up hastily.

His brain was running a mile a minute, muscles twitching for something to do. Even his speech had sped up. Without waiting for an answer, he was off, getting ready for the day in record time. He dressed in smart trousers, a crisp shirt and his new waistcoat which Garreth insisted was tastefully festive—as long as it wasn't embroidered with Christmas trees, Ominis didn't mind. The effects of the drink didn't wear off until he'd made it back to the living room, where Garreth and Sebastian were using their boost of energy to argue.

“...just for a few hours, stop making a big deal out of nothing, Weasley.”

The only time Sebastian used Garreth's last name these days was when they argued, which thankfully grew less and less often as time went by. Ominis settled down by the fire and waited for the pair to finish their tiff, reading through the Daily Prophet, scanning the headlines with his wand.

“It’s Christmas day! And you know how much I want to make it special for Ominis. Despite you being an insufferable git sometimes, you are his best friend.”

“Don't drag Ominis into this. I doubt I'll even have to go, so just leave it.”

The mention of his name did, in fact, drag Ominis into the conversation, with a sigh and albeit reluctantly.

“What are you two fussing about now?”

“Sebastian has decided that work is more important than celebrating Christmas with his friends.”

“I've said I'll be on call if anything were to happen. You know, even criminals and dark wizards celebrate Christmas, so I'm not expecting much action today,” Sebastian drawled.

“It's fine, Garreth. You are right about him being an insufferable git sometimes though, I will give you that,” Ominis said.

“Oh, charming. Just because Weasley spends his time cooking for a living, doesn't mean some of us don't have real jobs.”

“Sebastian.”

Ominis knew he'd crossed a line and he stood up to find Garreth's side before things could escalate further. The last thing he needed was to mediate some ridiculous shouting match on a day he was already slightly dreading.

“Stop it, both of you. For me.”

Garreth huffed and let Ominis pull him to the sofa whilst Sebastian threw himself into an armchair in silence. Neither would willingly apologise, but Ominis would take the cessation of hostilities for now. There were presents to open and spirits to maintain until the Weasley family party later that morning. Garreth was thankfully quick to forget any tensions as soon as he was passed a gift, wrapped by Ominis' own hand, it likely looked a mess; but no matter, the paper was swiftly ripped apart anyway.

“Brilliant! Wait, Ominis, these must have cost far too much…”

Ominis had bundled together his favourite sweets; treacle fudge, chocolate frogs and honeycomb; along with something a little more extravagant he knew would be appreciated. The Chudley Cannons tickets were hard to come by, but a colleague thankfully had contacts in the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports—Ominis had been told the seats were excellent, and judging by Garreth's cheering, it hadn't been a lie.

“Enjoy it. If I can't spend my hard earned money on the man I love then what is the point in enduring my colleague’s gossipping?” Ominis said.

“You're incredible, you know,” Garreth replied, wrapping him up in a tight embrace.

“My thanks is not having to attend with you.”

Garreth chuckled and squeezed his hand.

“Maybe I'll ask Oscar…he'll owe me forever.”

“How am I meant to follow that?” Sebastian sighed.

Of course all three of them were grateful for every gift exchanged, even if the thanks between Garreth and Sebastian were still a little frosty. Sebastian received books, charmed gloves, a handsome tie pin and a bottle of fine firewhiskey; Garreth yet more sweets, a selection of potioneer’s tools and a cashmere jumper that would likely end up singed within the week; Ominis a selection of music, sugar quills and smart new brogues. Garreth had saved Ominis' final present for the end, handing him a small box tied with ribbon.

“It's a bit experimental, I hope it's okay…”

“Another drink?” Ominis asked, pulling a tiny glass bottle out of the box.

The bottle’s glass was ornately cut and the stopper wasn't suitable for a drink. As soon as Ominis pulled it off, he understood. The earthy, leathery scent hit him, along with a hint of patchouli if he wasn't mistaken.

“Did you make this?”

“Yes…I've never tried perfume before but I thought well, how hard could it be? Erm…is it okay?”

Ominis dabbed the concoction on his neck, inhaling deeply.

“It's delightful,” Ominis sighed. “You can add perfumer to your list of talents.”

Sebastian made himself scarce as soon as Ominis decided to show Garreth just how much he appreciated his gift, kissing him fervently until the newfound privacy prompted a yet more heated exchange. Ominis almost dragged him back to bed with his cock throbbing needily inside his tailored trousers, not returning until after he'd buried himself inside his boyfriend and heard his addictive moans. All in all, his Christmas was shaping up to be far better than any he'd previously experienced.

Despite waking so early, they were now running rather late. The impromptu trip to the bedroom hadn’t really helped matters, though Garreth certainly wasn’t complaining about that. He'd given up trying to tame his curls, running a little pomade through the fringe in some attempt at tidiness and called it a job well done. Sebastian and Ominis were waiting for him by the fireplace, holding yet more presents and sporting the gifts they'd received earlier that morning; new shoes, new tie pin, new jumper. Today would involve a whole host of newness—whilst the Weasley family home was now familiar to them all, the idea of a big Christmas celebration was not. With a slight churn of his stomach that signalled nerves, he took the lead in guiding his flatmates into the floo.

He was greeted not by his mum, but by his brother Oscar, who appeared to be on guest welcoming duty. He slapped Garreth on the back and directed them to the back of the house, where his family had been hard at work transforming the overflowing kitchen and conservatory into an impressive party space, all encased in warming charms and candlelight. The pièce de résistance in Garreth's view was the Christmas tree—cut from the local forest, it had been decorated with handmade baubles and sprigs of holly, just as it had been when he was a child.

“Hey, Os…want to see the Cannons with me?”

“Hm, what do you mean?” His brother asked whilst nibbling on a mince pie (completely unburned, unlike his own).

“Ominis got me tickets to their match against the Wasps!”

“Are you serious? Of course I want to come! Nice one, Ominis!”

Oscar pulled an unsuspecting Ominis into a hug, his green eyes sparkling with excitement. His older brother was an even bigger Quidditch enthusiast than himself; he'd even entertained the idea of playing professionally once. When he'd relinquished his grip on a chuckling Ominis, Oscar leaned over to Garreth as he walked past, his mouth close to his ear.

“Marry that one, brother.”

And with that, Oscar was gone, only to be replaced with his mum, bedecked in Christmas decorations of her own.

“Mum…,” Garreth grumbled, looking her up and down.

“Looking good, Mrs Weasley,” Sebastian commented, turning her cheeks pink.

Garreth rolled his eyes. He was used to a festive jumper or sprig of berries in her hair, but she'd really gone all out this year. The flower crown of festive foliage atop her head appeared to be sparkling, or rather sparking with tiny red lights, and her handmade dress was embroidered with gold stars from top to toe.

“Sebastian, Ominis, lovely to see you both,” Harriet said. “Get yourself a drink, we've plenty.”

“I've more here, Mrs Weasley. A little something for you and Mr Weasley, though perhaps you might like to keep it for yourselves,” Ominis said, handing over his present.

The bottle of vintage cognac had cost a pretty knut, but Ominis had insisted. Harriet clutched the bottle tightly whilst quite speechless, not used to such extravagance. Garreth had thought she might be embarrassed by the gesture, but instead she was elated, calling Griffith over to open it right away, eager to share it amongst their friends and family. As the trio wove their way through the room, they greeted the rest of Garreth's siblings and relatives with Charlotte staying close by to Ominis and Sebastian. They indulged her endless barrage of questions as if she'd been deprived of their company for years rather than a couple of months.

The party began to fill the house, slowly but steadily until lunch was served; a traditional roast goose with stuffing and all the trimmings, and there was even a small side of roast beef that he knew as for Ominis’ benefit. Griffith thanked everyone for joining them with a toast as the extended table groaned under the weight of food. Of course, every dish was delicious. Glazed carrots, four different types of potatoes and lashings of gravy were passed from one end of the table to the other until everyone's plates were full. Sebastian seemed to be enjoying the company of Garreth's cousin next to him and paying the rest of them no mind, but Ominis stayed close to Garreth with their hands clasped under the table whilst he made small talk with another Weasley that Garreth couldn't quite place.

The sun was setting by the time dessert came, and the sky an inky black as the last mouthful of Christmas pudding was finished. Stuffed with food and drink, Garreth slumped against the back of his chair and let Ominis' head rest against his shoulder. Presents still hadn't been opened, yet Garreth always preferred the food, company and games at Christmas. At one point, he'd have been running around with Oscar and wreaking havoc, but now that crown had passed to his sister and younger cousins who were just as eager to disrupt the adults’ conversations with demands for gifts and practical jokes.

“A word, Garreth?”

The question came from his aunt Matilda who had appeared out of nowhere, jolting Garreth out of his stupor.

“Oh, hello auntie…yes, okay.”

Muttering an apology to Ominis, Garreth followed her out into the living room. She'd adopted her ‘professor persona’, clasping her hands in front of her and peering at him with a calmly professional smile. Garreth almost flinched away, reminded of the countless times he'd looked into those eyes and subsequently been told off for something-or-other.

“We're having a career day at Hogwarts in the new term, you remember those?”

“Yes…”

“Well, would you like to come back to Hogwarts and talk to the O.W.L students about your entrepreneurial venture? I'm sure they'd appreciate hearing from you amongst the healers and aurors and teachers.”

Garreth was almost stunned into silence. Almost. If there was any time to punch the air and brag, it would have been now. Instead, he smiled widely and tried his best to contain his excitement.

“Of course. Maybe I can even bring along my new brew for students to try? Well, maybe not that one…unless they're allowed a little swig of alcohol…no? No…”

His aunt was now looking at him with raised eyebrows, likely wondering what had possessed her to approach her nephew for this important role.

“I'm sure you'll think of something more suitable, Garreth. Now, back to the party, I have a delicious-looking Christmas cake to tuck in to.”

Buzzing with pride, Garreth returned to where he'd left Ominis, finding only his little sister in a flood of tears. Charlotte's curls bounced as she sobbed and Garreth pushed them out of her face as he crouched to meet her eye line.

“Charlotte, calm down…what's wrong?”

His sister didn't seem willing or able to reply. It wasn't long before he was joined by their mother, fussing and shoving Garreth out of the way.

“What's wrong, sweetheart? Tell mummy!”

“I just asked her that, she won't…”

“I was…was talking to Omi…and…,” Charlotte sniffled, wiping her eyes on her frock. “...he got really upset. I didn't mean…I wasn't mean!”

Garreth's mind blanked for a second and then kicked into a frenzy. He spun around, looking for his boyfriend amongst the sea of red, only spotting Sebastian's chestnut mane as he chatted animatedly to Garreth's cousin. With Charlotte in the care of his mum, Garreth fled, winding through the crowd to get to Sebastian. He felt awful, more than awful. Clearly Ominis hadn't been ready, he'd pushed too hard. His hand landed on a shoulder and earned him an irritated scowl; clearly Sebastian had been turning on his charm judging by the way his cousin was grinning and twirling her hair.

“Have you seen Ominis?”

“No…no, why?”

“I think he's run away, I don't know.”

“What? Run away where?”

“Just bloody help me look, will you?”

They both muttered their apologies and started their search. Garreth kept his eyes peeled for blond hair, easily recognisable amongst his family. He wasn't in the living room, the hallways, the kitchen. They stood in the conservatory, looking out into the night and Garreth wondered if he'd simply gone home. The thought filled him with sadness. Sebastian suggested searching upstairs, but then Garreth saw him; or rather the flash of his brand new brogue poking out from behind the Christmas tree.

“Ominis…?”

Ominis was leaning against the glass, deep in thought and arms crossed defensively. Though his head tilted downwards, Garreth could see the slight redness around his eyes and prayed to Merlin he hadn't been crying.

“Are you okay, Ominis?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes, I'm fine.”

Sebastian gave Garreth a look of concern, but stepped back. No matter how close the friends were, he devolved to Garreth this time. He knew that Garreth had Ominis' best interests at heart, and saw first hand how much he loved his best friend.

“Tell me what happened, Ominis.”

“It’s nothing. Charlotte was asking me questions about my family Christmases and…I panicked. I had no idea what to say, so I left. I must apologise to her…,” he said, making to leave.

But Ominis hesitated after taking only a step. He seemed apprehensive to leave his hiding place in the conservatory, as if the idea of rejoining the crowds was suddenly overwhelming.

“We could stay, if you want? Or go for a walk?”

“Isn’t it snowing?”

Garreth looked out across the garden, blanketed in a thick layer of snow yet the sky was peacefully clear. Not even the trees in the nearby woodland swayed, the air so still that barely a leaf rustled.

“Not anymore.”

Ominis nodded his approval, hastening to leave the glass enclosure like a trapped mouse. Once outside, he calmed, the remaining din from the party silenced by the thick stone walls of the cottage. They walked, not knowing where to—the destination wasn’t important, merely that they were together, alone at last. Ominis kept them warm with a charm that melted the snow beneath their feet forming puddles that froze as soon as they passed. A winding trail of ice to mark their meandering. Garreth held his hand tightly, letting Ominis unwind in the silence. To not talk was a challenge for him, truth be told, but he employed every shred of patience and self-restraint he had until Ominis finally spoke.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Garreth.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I’m sorry for pushing you to come. I can’t exactly blame Charlotte, she’s just curious...”

“No, I don’t blame either of you. There’s none to lay. I really have had a wonderful time. Perhaps…it’s time for me to talk about my family more, so moments like this don’t catch me unawares.”

“Only if you want to.”

“I think I do. At least, I want to share it with you—all of it. There are horrors in my past and skeletons in my closet that frankly I’ve been terrified to speak of, in case they scared you off.”

“Ominis, you could tell me you’re the devil himself and I’d still love you.”

Ominis smiled serenely, the curve of his lips lit only by the soft moonlight and smattering of stars. Garreth meant every word. There may have been a time he’d have been horrified to hear what he had, yet now he knew Ominis; knew unequivocally that he was good, kind, and nothing at all like his father and brother.

“Shall we head back inside? I imagine your family misses you.”

“Not likely. Do you want to stay out here a little while? I can conjure us a couple of chairs and we can enjoy the silence before the storm.”

“By storm you mean your sister?”

“Of course,” Garreth grinned.

“I’d love to,” Ominis said in barely a whisper, squeezing Garreth’s hand and pulling him to a stop.

They were quite a way from the house now; the illuminated windows mere pinpricks in the distance. The cottage was inviting, sure enough, yet with magic they could create all the cosiness they could want. Hidden by a large box hedge, Garreth set to conjuring a couple of basic chairs, blankets and bluebell flames encased in jars which he levitated to head-height. The flames didn’t give off much heat, but Ominis worked on warming charms to envelop the pair as they settled next to each other, their fingers still tightly laced.

“I could get used to this, you know,” Ominis sighed. “The idea of Christmas, I mean. The memories are still there, but they're not as potent when I'm with you and your family.”

“It will get easier, I promise,” Garreth said, turning his attention from the clear night sky to the person he loved most.

“I'd like to talk about my aunt, if that's okay.”

“I'd love to hear about her.”

Ominis told Garreth all about the woman who had influenced him growing up, her kindness helping to shield him from his family's influence and moulding him into the man he was today. Garreth felt eternally grateful, despite never having met her. He wished he had. In many ways, she sounded like his own mother—strong, fiercely protective and always willing to do what was right, despite the repercussions. Garreth held Ominis close as he told him the stories. It must have been painful, as well as cathartic and bittersweet to share, but by the end of the night, Ominis was smiling, and that's all Garreth had wished for this Christmas.

#garreth weasley #ominis gaunt #garrinis #ominis gaunt x garreth weasley

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tinyidle · 8 months

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Hi I'm the one that asked if you'd write for blackpink, could I please request a cute and smutty Poly one shot with Chaennie where they surprise reader for their birthday

(Idk why I asked on anon the first time lol I was shy ig)

Happy Birthday, Baby - KJN x YN x PRS/PCY

first of all, im suuuper sorry for taking so long! secondly, i hope you enjoy this fic.

wc: 1.2k

WARNING: smut, fluff, threesome, foreplay, facesitting, tribbing, mention of toy usage but nothing comes from it, dom!jennie, dom!rose, switch!reader, fem reader, all fiction ofc

you weren't the happiest for your birthday, but you were glad that this year you would able to celebrate with your girlfriends. jennie and rose have been with you for a few months, but it felt like you were together for years. life was dull until they came in, and now you find yourself smiling more than once every day-- something that, before meeting them, barely happened during the week.

you came back from work and were surprised with the big "SURPRISE!!" from the two for your favorite girls in the world. they held a lightly ablazed cake with your name on it. "happy birthday!" the exclaimed, smiling and laughing at how you instantly shed tears of joy and appreciation for having two wonderful girls by your side.

you wiped your tears as you laughed along with them before blowing out your candles. as the two cheered and clapped (to the best of rose's ability because she was holding the cake), you watched as jennie went to the kitchen to grab some plates and forks. "thank you, guys, really," you said with full gratitude. "work was great as usual, but you always know how to make my nights better than the last."

"of course," rose said as she put the small heart cake on the coffee table. "we always want to make our special girl feel extra special on her special day."

you giggled as jennie finally came back with the cutlery and napkins. "and what better way to make our special girl feel special than to have her favorite cake and favorite position?" as rose nodded along, agreeing with the words jennie chimed in with, you were confused. position? what does she mean by-

"when you're finished, baby, take off all the clothes you can while we take care of you, okay?" rose's thick accent was laced with something else all-too familiar with you: lust. now all you could think of was wonder what type of position they would put you in that was supposedly your favorite.

while you three were eating your slices of the heart cake, you couldn't help the thumping in your ears from your heart beating out of control. the only thing on your mind weren't necessarily things, but rather your two lovers as they seemed to be eating the cake a lot slower than you wanted. as much as you wished to stuff yourself and them with the rest of your slices, you had to be patient. they planned a special night for you, and you are not going to let impatience ruin it for you.

an hour of slowly eating your slice (as you watched jennie swirl her tongue on the frosting and rose sensually lick the plate to further agitate you), you went upstairs and did what was instructed with you. as quickly as your clothes were off, your eyes were met with the most beautiful sight of your naked girlfriends. each one standing in front of you, as if daring you to look away from the stunning display in front of you. both jennie and rose took your hands and led you to the bed.

"spread your legs for us, baby," jennie told you. the girls smiled as you lay down and spread your legs. both gently kissed you on each cheek as their as hands explored every inch of your body. the love and passion between you three was clearly visible in the expressions on each other.

jennie's mouth went down to kiss along your jawline, sucking a bit on it before reaching your lips, starting a mind-numbing makeout session. as you were busy with your mouth, rose was busy trailing her kisses from your neck down to your nipples. she blew on them, making your visibly shiver, before latching on to them with her tongue and the roof of her mouth. your moans mixed with jennie's turned to whines as rose was giving your breasts the attention they truly deserved.

soon enough you wanted to be fucked, no longer being played with as the two then took turns making your center the wettest its ever been in a while. "please," you begged while breaking away from the kiss as jennie's fingers were rubbing your clit and rose was two knuckles deep. "i want you to fuck me."

"oh?" rose teasingly asked. "which one? my cock or jennie's?" even though they knew that they could both fuck you at the same time, with or without toys, they both knew your favorite position required one person at a time so that you could catch your breath.

"both of you." without asking any questions, although they had a lot at the time, nodded.

"how do you want us?" jennie asked. you motioned that you wanted one woman's cunt on yours while the other's cunt sat on your face. "aren't we supposed to be seeing you though, baby?" you didn't answer, but instead pulled them over the spots your motioned them to with a whine. "okay," jennie obliged, "anything for the special girl on her special day."

with your ass on the edge of the bed and your two best friends sitting above you, jennie began to ride your center while rose rode your face hard. the soft slapping sounds of skin-on-skin was music to your ears as the friction increased from thrusts. your hands found your slightly older lover's breasts while the oldest squeezed and rubbed your nipples. it felt like heaven.

before long, the room was filled with your moans and their groans as jennie's hips were bucking harder than normal, trying to reach that sweet release as well as you and rose. "fuck, im about to cum," you declared through your muffled mouth, causing rose to moan louder as her ass constantly bounced atop of your tongue. "cum for me rosie, jen. pleaseee~"

your request made them both move faster as your mouth started to become numb and your clit being overstimulated. rose came first, shivering as her cum dripped into your awaiting lips. "fuck," she whimpered, shaking her hips a bit before getting off your now drenched face.

jennie came straight after, thrusting forwards one more time before cumming directly on your pelvis, your center now sticky with each other's essence. both girls' orgasms left them panting and breathless. you panted too, barely able to keep your eyes open as you laid there, completely. the three of you just laid there, taking deep breaths before jennie spoke up again. "did you have fun, darling?"

you looked at her with a smile as you hummed. "yeah, i did." jennie gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. you turned to rose. "is this everything you wanted for my birthday?"

the bleached red head bit her lip before running her fingers against your stomach. "we were expecting to fuck you individually. but this was so much better. right jennie?"

jennie nodded. "right. we're just glad we got to celebrate you the way wanted us." both girls wrapped their arms around you and kissed you before kissing each other. then you kissed each woman before sighing in their love.

"happy birthday, baby. we live you so much."

#blackpink smut #rose smut #jennie smut #chaennie smut

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