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strangersmunsons · 3 months

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Eddie, My Love! eddie munson x reader // valentine's day special series Day 5 Prompt: Love Notes 💌 ~ 2,300 words Eddie writes you an anonymous love note. it doesn't go according to plan.

Dear ____

I hope you’re not too weirded out by this. To be perfectly honest with you, it seemed like a really good idea when I saw this pink paper in the art room and swiped it, but now I’m not so sure…

Ah, fuck it. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we? The pen has been put to paper — I might as well nut up and finish the job.

I really like you. I think about you all the time.

You don’t know me, but we had a class together two years ago. And on the first day, when I was still fresh off a jilt by a different girl, you came in and sat down. I didn’t think much of anything at first; you were just another body in the classroom, and I was wallowing in self-pity, nursing my metaphorical wounds. But as the minutes passed, I found myself glancing over at you — at first just once, then again, and then again, and then I was staring, and all I could think was: she’s really beautiful. And then I couldn’t stop looking.

Day after day I’d watch you in class and in the hallways and anywhere else you and I happened to be occupying the same space. I still do. There’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in. You seem so genuinely good and kind, like you would never hurt anybody, not even a guy like me. But I still can’t bring myself to approach you, because I look at you, and then I look at myself, and I feel like I don’t deserve to be loved that way, by someone as perfect as you. I can’t take the leap no matter how badly I want it.

I have dreams about you. I dream about what it would feel like to hold your hand, to put my arms around you, and to feel yours around me. If my subconscious is feeling particularly indulgent, I might get a kiss. But mostly in these dreams we just exist together, which feels like the most unattainable fantasy of them all. They’re the sweetest dreams to have but the worst to wake up from.

I’m not sure why I’m confessing this all to you now. Everyone else is sending each other candy grams and roses; I suppose it means I’m not as immune to this Hallmark-conspired holiday as I thought. If nothing else, I hope this gives you at least an inkling of how wonderful you are, in case you ever had any doubts. You’re a sweet girl. Anybody would be really lucky to be with you. Especially me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Deliberately omitting his signature, Eddie sets his pen down and stares at the paper in front of him, rereading the fucking novel he just wrote you.

See, now this is far too much.

Cheeks violently red, he slumps over the table in embarrassment. God, he sounds like such a serial killer! He can’t give this to you, no way. Even if it is anonymous.

…can he?

On one hand, you might find it touching. On the other hand, you might find it both disturbing and grossly predative.

If it’s truly any one thing, it’s honest — Eddie has spent the past two and half years being completely and utterly infatuated with you. He’d call it love, if he’d ever said a single word to you. But instead he’s camped out here in the library during his lunch period, spilling his guts out all over this cotton-candy pink paper, with no intention of revealing his identity.

He sighs, and with nimble fingers, folds the paper into a shape that resembles a heart. Tucking the love note into the pocket of his vest, he wrenches himself away from the table and stalks out of the library. His expression is sour; to the outward observer, he looks mightily pissed off, although what he’s really experiencing is a fierce combination of ambivalence and humiliation towards his own actions. You’d never guess that his heart is thumping wildly against his chest as he speeds through the empty hallways, getting closer and closer to your locker, still uncertain of what he’s going to do when he actually gets there.

But he knows that if he’s going to do something, he needs to do it now, because lunch will be over in mere minutes, and then everyone will start pouring out of the cafeteria.

133…134…135…there it is.

Eddie stares at your locker as though in a trance. He fishes the note from his pocket and simply clutches it in his fist, mind racing.

Can I? Should I? If she’s disgusted she won’t know it’s me. No. No. Maybe I shouldn’t. Bad idea. BAD. Or maybe…I should…

“Whatcha got there, freak?”

A beefy arm shoves him violently from behind, knocking him to the ground. His fingers automatically close around the note, instant panic setting all his nerve endings on fire.

No. Oh God, no.

He quickly tries to haul himself back to his feet, but he’s outnumbered. Two jocks pin him to the ground by his arms, thwarting any desperate punches he might have swung. A third yanks the note from his hand, smoothing out the meticulously-folded paper he’d poured his soul onto.

There’s a roaring in his ears, but it’s not enough to completely drown out the bell ringing in the distance. Then the student voices start floating down the hallway, alerting Eddie to the fact that, not only is he about to suffer greatly at the hands of these meatheads, but he’s unfortunately also going to have an audience when it happens.

The third jock holding the note reads it silently, a slow, evil grin splitting across his face. He starts howling with laughter. “Shit, Munson! I mean, I figured you’d be desperate for pussy, but this? This is a whole new level of pathetic.”

“Give it back!” Eddie snarls, desperately trying to free himself.

The third jock doubles over, cackling, then reads aloud in a nasally, mocking voice, “I have dreams about you…”

One of the goons pinning Eddie down snorts, and loosens his grip. “Hold up, I wanna read it —”

Eddie, sensing his chance, breaks out of their grasp, and makes a move to snatch his note back. Before he can, the third jock crumples it into a ball and tosses it over his head to one of his friends; Eddie makes a wild grab for it, and misses.

High school students start to trickle in, drawn to a fight like flies to honey, crowding at the edges of the scene.

The four boys play a game of Eddie-in-the-middle, the onlookers puzzled but intrigued, watching the mysterious paper whiz back and forth through the air. Growing angrier by the second, fed up with the childish antics, Eddie finally stops trying to catch the note. Instead, he cocks his fist back and lets it smash into the third jock’s nose.

There’s a collective “oooh!” from the mass of students. Eddie and the jock scuffle, both now determined to fuck the other one up as badly as possible. One goon steps in to help his friend, while the other scoops the wadded-up paper off the floor, so he can finally skim the content of Eddie’s heart for himself.

And then suddenly, the most devastating thing of all: the asshole is hollering your name over the din.

For the first time ever, Eddie finds himself hoping that the bully he’s fighting actually kills him. Because death would be better than this.

“Where’s she at? She’s gotta hear this — hey, guess what! The freak is in love with you!”

Eddie wheels around in horror. The other goon grabs him from behind, rendering him motionless again, but it barely registers. The crowd has parted like the Red Sea, everyone stepping aside to make a clear path for you to walk through. You approach nervously, looking completely bewildered as to why you’re being summoned. Eddie wishes that the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

The goon thrusts the paper out to you. “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” he sneers.

“More like a stalker,” the third jock interjects, voice thick from his swollen nose. He steps in front of Eddie and gives him a bloody smile, flexing his hand menacingly. “Hold his face steady for me, would ya?”

“Stop it!” you shriek suddenly, snatching the paper without bothering to look at it. “You’re such assholes!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Principal Higgins has finally decided to do his job, it seems. He marches through the crowd — “Get to class, all of you!” — and pulls the two boys apart.

“My office. Now.”

He corrals the four boys down the hallway, towards the office, as the other students scatter about, flushed with excitement. None of them cast a backwards glance at you, head bent, reading the crumpled note with a furrowed brow.

An hour later and Eddie’s finally trudging his way through the parking lot.

He’s been sentenced to three days’ suspension. The guy he clocked made it out with one after-school detention, which he’ll most likely get out of due to basketball obligations, and the other two got off scot-free. Principal Higgins’s reasoning was that Eddie, because he’s the only one who did any ‘real’ damage, should get the worst punishment.

Sure, he threw the hardest punch. But the idea that any of those three are suffering worse than he is right now is downright laughable.

The hot, bitter embarrassment of it all is making his skin itch. There’s a lump in his throat; he can feel the start of angry tears prickling in his eyes. He sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he starts driving — the last thing he needs right now is an excuse for one of Hawkins’ finest to pull him over. God knows how much they love doing that.

“Eddie!”

He doesn’t turn around, rage and shame making him want to disappear. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone right now, or ever again, probably.

“Eddie! Wait!”

A light hand caresses his back, then curls around his bicep. He whips around, already on the defensive; you flinch backwards at his aggressive stance.

As soon as he sees that it’s you, all the tension in his body dissipates. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock; his skin becomes dead-white, then bright red in the span of about four seconds.

“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of his mouth. “For the note — for everything. You weren’t supposed to know it was me.” He stares down at his feet, unable to look at you.

“Did you really mean it? All that stuff you said?”

Eddie shifts his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. “Well…yeah.” He rubs his clammy forehead with his hand in distress, heart rate spiking again. “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m the biggest fucking creep, I wasn’t even sure if I was going to give it to you —”

“I don’t think you’re a creep.”

Eddie falls silent. His eyes finally flit up to meet yours, and he’s surprised to find that you don’t look…angry. Or repulsed, or even annoyed. Your gaze is soft, the corners of your mouth pulled slightly down in a worried frown. You look concerned.

Is that for him?

“You swear you weren’t playing a joke on me?” you ask.

Eddie starts, taken aback. “Of course not. I wouldn’t do something like that to you, ever. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

You nod slowly, seeming to believe him. You swing your backpack off your shoulder so you can unzip the front pocket, and pull the dreaded love note from inside. Eyes roaming the paper once more, a small smile appears on your lips. “This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about me.” Then your expression turns more serious, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “And I’m so sorry that those jerks did that to you. That was terrible. But you don’t have to be embarrassed about me reading it. I love the note. Thank you for writing it.”

He can scarcely believe this conversation is happening. He’s thought about you standing in front of him like this for years — imagined what it would be like to have you look at him and really see him, the way you do right now. Now that he’s living it, it’s almost too much for him to handle.

You hesitate, like you’re unsure of what to say next. “Um, to be honest, I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

“How could I not?” he says dazedly. The notion that he might not know who you are is absurd to him.

You shyly avert your eyes, like you’re overwhelmed by the praise. Pressing on, you tell him, “You did get one thing wrong, though.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to elaborate.

“I’m not perfect — certainly not too perfect for you to come and talk to, or — or ask out. I think you’re a good guy.”

Is there air left in his lungs? It doesn’t feel like it. “Oh,” he manages faintly. He’s too scared to say anything else, that a single incorrect word will break this spell.

You give him a gentle smile. “So…are you busy right now?”

Eddie hides his shaking hand behind his back, blushing furiously. “No, I’m not busy right now. Actually, um, I’m not even allowed back here for the next three days, so…yeah, I’m — I’m pretty open.”

You nudge his arm playfully. “Do you wanna go do something?”

Even through his leather jacket the contact makes his skin tingle. “Yes!” he practically shouts, then lowers his volume. “Sorry. I mean, you read my note. So you understand that this is kind of a big deal for me.”

You laugh, and not unkindly.

“Well, let’s get going then. We have a lot of time to make up for.”

thank you for reading!! xoxo Valentine's Day Special Masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #we're an hour late! sorry bout that

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novalizinpeace · 2 months

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Remember when you explained the hierarchy of the heretics? I really love this pyramid. It was made in such a logical way, but seeing this pyramid brought this question to my mind. Is there a hierarchy system (pyramid) of those on the Prototype's side? So, for example, creatures like Catnap and Huggy Wuggy are on the side of the Prototype, if I understand correctly. So do you have a hierarchy system for them?

(Personally, I think Catnap would be at the top of this pyramid. But I would like to hear your opinion more)

yup, i actually had it at the same time that the other one, but i was waiting for someone to ask for it.

Just so you know, all classifications and stuff like that was made by Alba, she like to keep track of everything, incluying the other side of the factory. Since she know the cult has a strongly religious view, she decided to classificate them in a ''religious'' way

1- The prototype ''Lucifer''

''Never had fully she him, but we all know his image is more that our eyes could deal with, forming himself with everything he can found, there's no limit for the creature that call himself the owner of the true. I know his intentions weren't wrong at the beginning, but now... I can't call him my saviour nor my angel, no when he has become blind with pride, just like the one that create us all''

2- First PJ ''Lilith''

''There's a reasons Play.co started to make all experiments genderless, they try to give reproductive organs to a experiments once, and the result was Lilith, a Pug-a-Pillar that only need Poppy serum to survive, but that instead of grown would produce new ''baby pjs'' that came from eggs similar to a kinder surprise. It was a success in the beginning, they thought she was the answer to the financial problem, and the possibility to sell the babies as pets was even in paper, but... she start to morph, the babies start to come out bigger, hunger, and dangerous. She was caged underground without serum in hopes to stop her transformation and the egg production, but after the Hour of Joy the prototype broke a Pipeline and create a source of food for her, making her grown to the point she's now. Yeah, we all get to eat the babies to survive, but the idea of her existence under us is even scary that the own prototype.''

3- Catnap ''Paimon''

''So loyal to his superhero, that he's unable to see all the crimes the prototype has send him to commit in his name. His claws are dirty with children blood, and that something nobody can come back, but... I think there's still someone inside him, someone that Nell also know, but i don't know is theres even a way to reach to that child, a child that is deep sleep in the red smoke''

4- Candy Cat ''Beelzebub''

''The only reason we hadn't a Pug-a-Pillar infestation in the factory, he's so big but at the same time is till able to get into place he's not supposed to be, i guess is a cat ability of sort. He eat everything, no matter what, no matter if is ally or enemy, he just eat. Somehow, he eat a full beam from the playcare construction, said beam broke his skin from his stomach, and still, he's alive. No sure what can kill this beast.''

5- Boxy Boo ''Leviathan''

''The gatekeeper of the prototype's room, he's more intelligent that it show, an actually dangerous predator, he knows how to be really quiet, to the point of make you release that you're fucked when the music box start, but luckily, he's also only like human prey, so is weird to see him attack us. Daddy was a idiot and tried to show off by dare him into a fight, he thought that would impress Mommy and make her interesed in him (she wouldn't, he was too chatty and weepy in her eyes), what a way to make Mommy a ''widow'', but Boxy was a good winner at least, just taking Daddy body and leaving us alone.''.

6-Miss Delight ''Astaroth''

''The only reason she's still alive is 'cause Catnap feel pity for her, and 'cause we found her useful, since she know where are all Play.Co documents, and is full of random information that has help us more that in one ocassion. Her mind is completly gone, but by just giving her a piece of food she become docile. Just for the note, never mention or ask for Barb, 'cause she would speak for hours about her, to the point of force you to speak with Barb and follow the ''conversation'' she affirm the pointy shit is making with you. Nell make the mistake once and was enough to never make him put a foot in the school again, and that was 6 years ago, and Delight keep saying ''where's the doggy coming back? Barb want to resume their talk with some tea'', i can't even tell him without laughing.''

7- The followers

''they're just hungry, and desesperate. The Pjs were born in the cult, and are blindly loyals, while the rest are just broke enough to don't give a fight, they just follow the prototype and hope, pray to be the next sacrifice to stop their misery, to stop the hunger''.

#i take big inspirations in ''aliens Vs predators'' for some things here #poppy playtime #smiling critters arg #ask #nova say

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daisynik7 · 4 months

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Warm on a Cold Night

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.5k

cw: fluff, canon universe, alcohol consumption, Ino and reader are both in their early 20s, suggestive (blink and it’s gone), mentions of minor injuries, love confessions

Summary: You and Ino learn all the different ways to keep each other warm on a cold night in Tokyo.

Author’s Note: Inspired by the song Warm on a Cold Night by Honne. I’ve always loved this song and it gives me major winter vibes. Thought it’d be cute to imagine it with our boyfriend Ino. Enjoy! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Tagging @kodzukein @crlyhairedwxtch @chicken-fifi @thisisnotashley @saerotonins @batafuraikisu @kentoslvt @rxmbzzz @yoshikasworld, thank you for the interest in this ♥️ also tagging my fellow ino lover @antique-remains, I hope you like this :)

On the first of December, Takuma Ino walks into his favorite Korean barbeque restaurant down the street from his humble studio apartment. His stomach grumbles with hunger; he hasn’t eaten since breakfast, right before he met with Nanami in Ginza to exorcise curses in an abandoned department store. As soon as he made it back home, he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep without meaning to. Now, he hustles, feet shuffling on the pavement, beanie pulled over his ears, though the crisp air still bites his skin. He knows it’s going to be packed on a Friday night such as this. He isn’t sure how long he can last, given how starving he is. He slips inside anyways, the familiar bell ringing above him announcing his presence, ready to try his luck. As predicted, the tables are all occupied. Fortunately, there’s only one other person waiting.

You sit on the chair next to the hostess stand, scrolling through your phone. There’s a ding and rush of breeze as the door swings open. Glancing up on instinct, your eyes meet his and you give him a cordial smile. He nods, acknowledging you. Yuki, the hostess, greets him happily, recognizing him. “Ino!”

“Hey Yuki!” he grins. “Table for one, please.”

She does a brief scan of the restaurant. “Fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Cool.” He takes the empty seat beside you, shaking his knees, rubbing his hands together, breathing into his palms. “Chilly out there,” he says to no one in particular.

Yuki doesn’t seem to hear him, walking away to tend to customers. Feeling obligated to answer out of politeness, you agree. “Yeah, freezing.”

“It smells so good in here, I can’t wait to eat. I’m absolutely starving.” He rubs his belly, slouching in his seat. “This type of weather always makes me crave Korean barbeque. I guess everyone has the same idea.”

He’s a chatty fellow, though you don’t mind it. He seems friendly enough, so you entertain him. “This weather is a good excuse to grill meat over a fire. And maybe warm up with a few shots of soju.”

“Now that sounds like a great idea. I could definitely use a drink.” He couldn’t finish an entire bottle himself, just a taste wouldn’t be so bad, right? If only he had someone to share it with.

Another breeze sweeps through as a couple exits the restaurant, hand-in-hand, snuggled in their long coats and scarves. Yuki approaches you with a menu in her hands. “Your table is ready!”

You stand up, ready to follow her. “Enjoy your meal!” Ino calls out.

Something clicks in your brain; you’re not exactly sure why you decide to do this. Maybe deep down, you pity the guy who has to wait another fifteen minutes to eat. Or maybe you want some company on a cold night like tonight. Whatever the reason is, you end up blurting out, “Want to join me?”

Pleasantly surprised and too famished to deny the offer, he hops out of his chair. “Are you sure?”

You shrug, grinning at him. “Yeah. It’s always more fun with friends, right?”

He can’t argue with that. There’s a strange glow that begins to surround his chest at those words. This might be the fastest friend he’s ever made, and his stomach is more than grateful. They walk together to the table, sitting across from one another, avoiding each other’s gaze while Yuki fires up the grill. Before she leaves, you place an order for appetizers and a bottle of strawberry soju to share.

Quick to fill the silence, Ino asks, “Do you come here often?”

You shake your head, looking at the plate and utensils in front of you. “I moved in nearby and found this place online. Decided to give it a shot tonight.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat! This is the best Korean barbeque in the neighborhood. I take my mentor out here from time-to-time and even he likes it. And he’s a hard one to please.” He shrugs his beanie off, revealing messy brown hair that you happen to find adorable. Your gaze lingers for a second longer than you intend because when he catches you, he runs his fingers through his brunette locks to fix it. “I wear this all day long, so my hair is probably a mess right now. Sorry.”

You smile at him. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I like your hair. It’s cute.”

He blushes, rubbing the nape of his neck, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” He clears his throat nervously, flushed despite not having a single drop of alcohol in him yet.

The liquor and appetizers come out shortly. Ino gives you the honors to break the seal, handing you his glass to pour his serving. You cheers with a clink, sinking the first shot easily. It’s smooth going down your throat and you start to ease up in his presence. While you wait for the meat to arrive, you both indulge in corn cheese and the standard fair of banchan, continuing your small talk. He’s cryptic with what he does for a living, unsure how to explain Jujutsu Sorcery to a stranger. You’re honest about your office job, claiming it isn’t the most glamorous. It’s enough for you to be content in life.

When the meat is served, Ino volunteers to grill it, which you happily let him. He cooks each piece to your liking, plopping it on your plate as he finishes. In between, you continue to take shots until you’re near the last drops of soju. Conversation flows easier with alcohol and yummy food mixed in. Whatever awkward tension there was in the beginning has since faded. It also helps that Ino is naturally a cheerful person who’s easy to talk to. You find yourself enjoying his company more and more as the night progresses. The bitter cold outside is completely forgotten as your cheeks swelter from the sweet soju and smoke surrounding you. The charming smile of the man across the table also contributes to the ember kindling inside you. You wonder if he’s enjoying this as much as you are. You hope that he is.

Ino’s thankful for the puffs of smoke that obscure him. If not for that, it would be completely obvious how fond of you he is. He hasn’t stopped grinning since you first clinked glasses an hour ago. There’s a tiny part of him that wishes this night wouldn’t end.

It's only when Yuki approaches you, informing that it’s last call for the kitchen, that you realize you’re the only remaining customers in the restaurant. You’re both stuffed, barely picking at the last bits of banchan, chatting about nightlife in the area. Ino mentions a karaoke bar down the block that he likes going to with his friends. “You should join us sometime,” he suggests, nonchalant.

Your heart pounds at the invitation; you convince yourself it’s merely a friendly gesture, nothing more. “I’d really like that.”

He hands you his phone, his fingers grazing yours as you accept it. “Let’s exchange numbers. I’ll text you the next time we go out.” A jolt of excitement rushes through his veins at the contact. He yearns for more of it, though he knows it wouldn’t be appropriate to continue touching her, so he twiddles his thumbs beneath the table as he watches you type in your contact information. The next opportunity is immediately after, when the bill comes and both of you reach for it at the same time, Ino’s hand on top of yours, squeezing you gently, trying to pry the check from under you. This time, his entire body is buzzing with electricity, blazing every inch of his skin with a pleasant heat he’s unfamiliar with.

You smile at him, letting him hold you, relishing his touch. “How about I get this one and you get the next one?”

“I can’t let you pay on the first date. It’s against my morals,” he insists, shaking his head.

You smirk, raising a brow at him. “Oh, so this is a date now?”

He chuckles, thumb brushing your skin delicately. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, I’d like to do it again with you.”

You bite your lip, holding back a giggle. “Promise you’ll call me and I’ll let you pay for the next one. Deal?”

It takes him a minute to contemplate, then he eventually agrees. “Deal.”

You bid Yuki and the rest of the staff farewell on your way out. Ino slips the beanie back onto his head then helps you into your coat. As soon as the door opens, your face tingles from the frigid air and you immediately want to retreat back inside with Ino, but you know you can’t. He walks beside you down the street, fingers less than inches apart from yours. His hands are already freezing; he wants to hold you to feel that warmth again, but he knows he shouldn’t.

When it’s time for him to go his separate route and you to go yours, you face him, the chill coming out as wisps from your mouth. “Thank you for a fun night.”

“Thank you too. I’ll call you.” Would it be so bad to lean closer? To feel your lips on his?

You drift towards him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. It radiates throughout his entire body and suddenly, he’s almost feverish in this icy weather. He’s flustered, repeating, “I’ll call you, okay?”

Reluctantly, you turn to walk in the opposite direction while Ino stands there watching you, touching his cheek with a goofy grin on his face.

The cold isn’t so bad the rest of his way home.

~~~

A week later, Ino invites you out to karaoke with him and his friends. As expected, they are as friendly and easy-going as he is, so they welcome you with open arms. His buddy Takashi currently sings a power ballad, belting it out with his whole heart into it and sweat beading on his forehead while the rest of the group cheers for him. Ino sits beside you, leaning in close to make sure you hear him through the noise, breath hot on your ear. “Are you having fun?”

You face him, noses nearly touching. “I’m having lots of fun.”

“Good,” he smiles. “I’m really happy you’re here.” He lingers on your lips. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you since that first night, when you kissed him on the cheek. He swears he can still feel the heat from it. What would it be like if you kissed the other parts of him? How cozy would he be from your gentle kisses? Before he gets caught up in the moment and makes a dumb decision, he pulls back, distracting himself by flipping through the song catalogue. From his peripheral, he notices you studying him intently. You don’t say anything, eventually going back to watching the performances.

At the end of your session, you bid farewell to his friends. Ino offers to walk with you halfway towards your homes, pausing at the same spot you did a week ago. “Well,” you start, “Thank you for another great night.”

“Thank you too.”

There’s a tense silence, neither uncomfortable nor awkward. It’s just there, palpable and heavy in the air between you. As if you’re both waiting for either of you to say the one thing you’re both thinking.

He catches on quick. “Want to come over?”

You agree immediately, beaming as you follow him to his apartment complex. He unlocks the door, beckoning you inside. “Sorry it’s so cold in here. The insulation in this apartment is the worst.” He stands above a space heater, clicking it on to the highest setting, carrying it towards the couch. “It’ll warm up soon, give it a minute.”

You sit, scanning the room, noticing the few trinkets he has scattered as decor. Gaming consoles neatly tucked inside the TV stand. Framed pictures displayed on a bookshelf of him and his friends you just met, some with who you assume is his family. There are a couple of posters hanging on his walls, one of a cult classic movie you’ve heard about but never watched, another of unique artwork that catches your attention with vibrant colors. His bed is several feet behind you, the sheets twisted, mostly barren. You shiver in your seat, fully understanding what he meant when he said that the insulation is the worst here.

He returns with a fleece blanket in his hands, taking his place beside you. “Sorry. It’s like a refrigerator in here,” he jokes, laying it over the both of you. The space heater must finally be kicking in because now, you’re almost too hot, sharing this intimate space with Ino right next to you, his knee brushing yours, shoulders touching. He reaches for the remote, turning the TV on. “So, what are you in the mood for?” He begins listing genres of movies. “Action, horror, comedy…?”

You don’t let him finish, snuggling closer to him, peering into his eyes. “How about romance?”

He laughs, licking his lips, gazing at yours. “That’s exactly what I was thinking too.”

You meet him for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper. His hands are gentle, caressing your back while his tongue explores your mouth. Soon, you shrug the covers off, sweltering beneath him as he surrounds you, trailing your neck, moving to your ear, whispering, “I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

“Me too,” you breathe out, ready to strip out of your clothes.

“Not yet,” he purrs, nipping at your ear lobe. “I want to take my time with you.”

And so he does, making love to you slowly, cherishing every inch of you. You’re supple beneath him, yielding to every kiss, every lick, every gentle touch he graces you with. You moan into his mouth as his fingers move swiftly between your legs, pleasuring you until you’re stirring with ecstasy. He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, calling you endearing pet names that make you putty in his grip. Sweetheart, beautiful, my good girl. It rolls off his tongue naturally, as if the two of you were meant to be like this from the very start. You’ve never been treasured like this by anyone else.

When he’s inside you, his cheeks are flushed, expression hazy, nose nuzzled to yours. You watch him carefully, marveling at his toned physique, running your fingers through his soft hair, tugging lightly at the strands. He smiles at you, blushing. “I’m so into you, it’s crazy.”

You trace his lips with your thumb. “I’m so into you too, Ino.”

He smooches the pad of your finger. “Takuma. Please call me Takuma.”

Giggling, you tease, “How about Taku?”

“You can call me whatever you want, as long as I’m yours,” he answers, stilling his movements.

You kiss him passionately, squeezing him in a tight embrace. “You’re all mine, Taku. And I’m all yours.”

It sounds crazy to be so smitten with someone you barely met after only a week. It is crazy. But something about him excites you, ignites a spark in you. It’s enough that you want to give whatever this is a fighting chance.

~~~

Ino hobbles out of the train station, limping slightly on one foot, a prominent gash across his cheek that has since clotted from the cold, January air. His beanie is scorched at the top, his sweater ripped at the sleeves, and aside from the obvious cut on his face, it’s dusty with soot and debris, all from the aftermath of today’s battle. He’s a mess right now; it’s been a rough night, exorcising a grade 2 curse in Harajuku. Nanami offered to accompany him back to Jujutsu High to get patched up by Ieiri, but Ino insisted he’s fine, not wanting to appear weak in front of his mentor.

Halfway on his route home, he stops, contemplating for a good minute before turning on his heel and heading the opposite direction, towards your house. Rather than being alone and cold in his dinky, lonely apartment, he’d much rather be with you. His warm, wonderful girlfriend.

It’s been more than a month now since you started dating, and so far, it’s been going great. Ino can’t remember connecting to someone this well before. Maybe he never has until you. So, when he climbs two flights of stairs up to your apartment, wincing step-by-step because of his sore ankle, he reminds himself that all of this is worth it just to see your bright, shining face tonight.

He knocks quietly on your front door, leaning against it, sighing with exhaustion. It doesn’t take you long to answer, greeting him with your sunny demeanor. As soon as you notice the cut on his cheek and his tattered clothes, your expression turns wary. You pull him inside gently, asking, “What happened?”

He tries to chuckle, which results in him coughing instead, each breath sharp in his chest. “Overtime,” he rasps, flashing you a weak grin. He doesn’t realize how freezing he is until now, enveloped by the residual heat inside your apartment and the presence of you.

Despite his poor attempt at a joke, you still return his smile, indulging him, not pestering him with any more questions. Ino revealed the truth about his profession two weeks ago, and while you’re still not entirely certain of every aspect of Jujutsu Sorcery, you’re aware enough to recognize the type of danger he faces in order to protect society. The least you could do is keep him warm on a cold winter night.

You grab the nearest blanket, covering him in it. His beanie is ruined, a giant hole at the top, exposing his brown hair. You remove it, inspecting his face carefully, taking note of the dirt on his skin and the wound on his cheek. He stares at you with tired eyes, this close to falling asleep. You plant a smooch on his forehead, whispering, “Don’t worry, Taku. I’ll take care of you.”

He sinks into the cushions, letting himself relax amidst the soft fabric. Not only is it toasty, it also smells exactly like you, putting him at ease. He’s never been taken care of like this since he was a little kid. He doesn’t remember how nice it is to have someone to lean on.

You remove his sneakers, the soles almost rubbed completely raw from overuse, tossing them with the rest of your shoes by the front door. In the your bedroom, you search your drawers for the first aid kit and cleaning wipes. In the kitchen, you start a kettle of water for tea, something comforting to soothe him. When you return to him, his eyes are half-lidded, head lolling on one shoulder, on the verge of sleep. You giggle, sitting beside him, patting his knee. “Poor baby.”

He nods lazily, turning to face you. “Yes, I am. You know what will make it all better?”

You pull a wipe from the container, carefully cleaning his face. “What?”

“A kiss,” he smirks, pouting his lips.

So cheeky, even when he’s spent, you can’t help but laugh. You use a second wipe to completely remove the grime on his skin, particularly around the cut. “I’ll kiss your boo-boo once it’s all bandaged up. Deal?"

He exhales deeply, satisfied. “Deal.”

This time, you use an alcohol wipe to disinfect the cut first, blowing on it to reduce the sting. Ino sucks in a breath, handling it as best as he can. With a cotton swab and gloves on, you apply the ointment meticulously, making sure not to miss any spots. Then, with gauze and heavy-duty bandages, you finish treating him, happy with your work.

He watches your every move intently, touched by the amount of care you put into this. His heart races; he’s never been this precious to someone else. He swallows hard, holding your hand in his. “I love you,” he confesses, waiting for your reaction.

You blink at him twice, in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

He nods slowly. “Yes. I am seriously in love with you.”

“You love me?” you stutter, chest pounding.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I love you.”

Your throat is tight, struggling to get the words out, the ones that have been lingering on your mind for the past couple of weeks now. “I love you too, Taku.” It’s easy, natural.

He closes the gap, kissing you, lips soft against yours. And it doesn’t matter that his head is throbbing, that his muscles are aching, or that the tea pot on the stove is whistling it’s high-pitched tune. All that matters in this moment is that the two of you love each other and that you’ll be basking in one another for the rest of your lives.

#ino takuma #ino takuma x reader #ino takuma x you #ino takuma fluff #ino x reader #ino x you #ino jjk #ino jujutsu kaisen #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino x you #takuma ino #takuma ino fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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fluentmoviequoter · 2 months

Text

Soft Spot

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x shy!assistant!fem!reader

Summary: When you're kidnapped and used as a pawn, Deacon sets out to find you. Once you're tied up together, he changes his goals regarding your safety, finding a soft spot in the kidnappers and himself.

Warnings: spoilers (rewrite) for SWAT episode 3x15 "Knockout"; angst to fluff

Word Count: 3.4k+ words

A/N: Deacon in a suit + Street's scene in the luxury box = one of the best episodes.

Picture from Pinterest

You have only been Gio Torres’s personal assistant for a week - since he arrived in Los Angeles - but he got attached to you quickly. Your shy demeanor and kindness toward his wife made it easy for Gio to decide he likes you.

“Where are we going?” you ask quietly.

“To meet the security team, hermana,” Gio answers, smiling as he wraps his arm around Esther.

Frowning when you think of meeting even more people, Gio takes pity on you and offers to handle the introductions.

“They don’t need to know who I am, Gio,” you remind him. “I’m just here for you and Esther.”

Gio tilts his head to the side as Esther replies, “And if they want to meet you?”

“I hope they don’t,” you mumble.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you enter the arena, a few men in suits are standing around a television displaying the building’s blueprint. You notice the one closest to the screen is attractive and immediately drop your chin as he looks toward you. Walking behind Gio, though, you don’t expect he’ll even realize you’re there. Most people don’t.

“Hey, champ,” the other man greets. “This is my business partner, David Kay. He’s managing our security team. Meet Gio Torres, reigning welterweight champion of the world, and his wife Esther.”

David shakes hands with Gio and Esther before the other man excuses himself to answer his phone.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says. “And please, call me Deacon.”

“Diacono? Like padre, priest?” Gio asks.

“No, no, it’s just a nickname.” Deacon looks to Esther to ask, “It’s your first?”

“Yes,” she replies happily.

Deacon turns toward you, extending his hand. “I didn’t catch your name.”

You shake his hand, giving him a small smile as you say your name. “I’m Gio’s assistant.”

“Nice to meet you as well, and I guess that means we’re kind of working together.”

Nodding, you’re glad when Gio draws Deacon’s attention away.

“You know, this place is so… new. We had nothing like it in Havana,” Gio explains. “One day we will.”

“Well, best of luck to you tonight,” Deacon says. “And congratulations.”

“Gracias, Padre.”

You shake your head at Gio’s nickname, smiling at Deacon again as you follow Gio and Esther out of the arena. You can feel Deacon’s eyes on you, and your neck warms at the attention.

“Someone likes padre,” Esther teases, bumping her elbow against your arm.

Rolling your eyes, you keep your head down so your giddy smile doesn’t betray your secrecy.

“Sí, claro,” Gio agrees, chuckling.

✯✯✯✯✯

Gio sent you to find Deacon, telling you he wants to give him something for his SWAT team. You don’t know how Gio learned he was a SWAT agent when he isn’t working in private security, but it’s your job to get what Gio wants, so you go. Standing to the side and waiting for him to notice you, you accidentally overhear his conversation.

“Aren’t these fights usually in Vegas?” the woman beside him asks.

“Yeah,” Deacon answers. “But Maxwell wanted to fight in his own hometown.”

“Why does the former champion get to call the shots?”

“That’s why.”

Deacon points to Jackie Shaw, who you had the displeasure of meeting this morning. He’s full of himself and has a wandering eye. He may be the biggest promoter and responsible for the biggest fight of the season, but he does not seem like a good man.

“I’m gonna make the rounds,” Deacon says, turning toward you. He stops when he sees you, smiling as he says your name.

“You remembered?”

“How could I not?”

Pressing your lips together and dropping your eyes to the floor, you say, “Gio wants to see you when you have a minute.”

“I can go now. Care to show me the way?”

Looking up, the smile on his face makes you think he knows that his actions are impacting you. When he falls into step beside you, keeping his attention on you as you walk, you realize that Esther was right; you do like him, but you’ll never be able to act on it.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Oi, Padre,” Gio greets as you lead Deacon into the room.

“I’m going to go with the driver to get Esther from the hotel,” you tell Gio.

You nod at Deacon on your way out, and the look he gives you makes you wish you could stay.

✯✯✯✯✯

You walk out of the hotel, answering an email from Jackie Shaw’s marketing team as you get in the car. Esther should be out in a moment, but the door beside you opens suddenly, and a man you don’t recognize climbs inside.

“Uh, I think you’re in the wrong car,” you tell him.

The car begins moving, and you ask the driver to go back, but he doesn’t acknowledge you. When you look out the window, the man beside you unsheathes a serrated knife, holding it up so you can see it.

“Don’t yell for help,” he demands.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon is doing his rounds again when he stops by Gio’s locker room.

“My nephews are gonna go nuts. Thank you,” Chris says, accepting a signed poster.

“De nada,” Gio replies.

Esther and one of the security guards enter the room, and Deacon looks over when Esther says your name.

“No esta aqui?” Esther asks.

“No.”

They continue speaking in Spanish, and Deacon can tell they’re distressed and concerned about something. He doesn’t like that your name is involved.

“What’s wrong?” he asks Chris.

“His assistant disappeared from the hotel. His trainer’s out looking for her.”

Someone knocks on the door, and Deacon steps in front of him. “Hey, not now. You can get a selfie later.”

“Hey, Torres, I’m supposed to deliver this to you,” the man says.

“Let me see that. Chris,” Deacon calls.

“Stand right here. Don’t move,” Chris demands, pulling the man into the room.

“There’s a voice mail.” Deacon presses play, his jaw clenched as he listens to the distorted voice.

‘We have your hermana, your assistant. Lose this fight or she dies. No cops, or your wife is next.’

✯✯✯✯✯

“You got the wrong girl!” a man yells.

You flinch at the sudden noise. Tied to a chair, blindfolded, and gagged, you have no way of knowing who the men are or what they're doing in here.

“How do you mistake her for Gio’s pregnant wife?”

“She was in the car, I didn’t know!”

“He likes her, so it’ll have to work. That or we find another chance to get the wife.”

“It’ll work.”

That’s what you’re worried about.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What can I do to help?” Gio asks.

“Your weigh-in’s about to start. If you don’t show up, people will know something’s wrong,” Chris answers. “It might alert the kidnappers.”

“I know this is hard. But you have to go out there and pretend that everything is normal. We have people with your wife, they can’t get to her, and we’re doing everything we can to find the people who did this,” Deacon promises.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon notices a man filming Gio at the weigh-in and follows him out of the arena, pausing in an alley to call Hondo.

“Yeah, Deac, talk to me. What’s going on?” Hondo asks.

“There was a suspicious guy around the weigh-in. White, six foot, 25 to 30. It’s probably nothing, but I want to check it out,” Deacon replies. “He walked into an old factory six blocks from the arena.”

“You got an address?”

“Twelfth and Maple. Northwest alley.”

“Street’s callin’ for backup, Deac.”

“I’ll keep you posted.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Secured to the chair and blindfolded, you can’t see when people come or go, and have no idea where you are. Several men have been in and out, and you try to breathe quietly and listen for them.

A voice - Deacon, you know immediately - says your name before asking, “Are you okay? I’m here to help.” He lifts the blindfold over your head and says, “Hey.”

You pant as he pulls the gag from your mouth, nodding as you thank him. Deacon kneels beside you, keeping a hand on your arm. He pulls his phone from his pocket and talks while he unties you.

“Hey, Hondo,” he says. “I found her. She’s tied up, but she’s okay.”

You shake your arm, trying to alert Deacon of the men entering the room, but it doesn’t work, so you turn your head toward him, hoping to find comfort in his presence.

“Stand up,” one of the men commands.

Deacon drops something into a box, moving his phone to his pocket as he stands and raises his hands in surrender. Both men point guns at Deacon, and you push back against your chair, hoping that this doesn’t end terribly.

“I probably shouldn’t be here, huh?” Deacon asks. “I followed him from the weigh-in. I was in the room when Torres heard the message, and- and he begged me not to do anything, but I… I thought if I found his assistant, you know, maybe he’d give a reward or something. Look, the name is Schupatz. I’m just a security guard. I don’t want any trouble.”

“Turn around,” the men demand.

“I don’t want to cause any problems.”

Deacon turns, and you flinch when he’s hit over the head with the butt of a gun. Bringing your shoulder to your cheek, you look away and try to hide, but the man turns to you, forcing you to drink a strange-colored medicine before everything goes dark.

✯✯✯✯✯

You regain consciousness before Deacon, watching him as you sit in the dusty room. He tips his head back and groans before opening his eyes.

“You okay?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Are you?”

With Deacon’s complete attention on you, despite the life-threatening situation, you grow shy and can only shrug.

“Did they hurt you?”

“Gave me medicine that knocked me out,” you explain.

“You feel okay?”

Nodding, you look at Deacon’s shoes.

“I don’t know the men who did this, but help is on the way,” Deacon promises. “There are people looking for you. They’ll come for me too. I’m a police officer.”

“SWAT,” you murmur.

“How’d you- Gio. Right?” Deacon looks around, and you flex your wrists under the rope. “All right, we got to get out of here. They need you alive as leverage until Gio loses the fight. But they’ll get rid of me soon enough. Unless we get out of here first.”

“What can I do?”

“Best thing you can do? Stay calm. I’m gonna get us out of here.”

You nod as Deacon moves his arms, trying to find a way to get free.

“Will Gio really lose?” you ask, looking at Deacon’s face.

“For you? Of course.”

He smiles as he answers, and you find it much easier to stay calm.

“Who’s Schupatz?”

“A clue to help my team find us, I hope.”

Nodding, you fall silent again. While you watch Deacon, you take his advice to stay calm and trust him. He’s breathing deeply from trying to free himself, and when he pauses, you decide to try talking to him again.

“The medicine they made me drink… will it hurt me?”

“Nah. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Gio and Esther have to be okay. If they have to leave early because of me, and their baby is born in Cuba, their lives are as good as over. They need to stay in America, Deacon. Tonight can’t be the end for them.”

“No, and it won’t be,” Deacon agrees, raising his arms again before the door opens.

You fold in on yourself, moving back as a man kneels before you, offering an open bottle.

“It’s just water,” he says.

Looking at Deacon, you wait for him to say, “It’s okay,” before taking a drink.

You feel a bit better, your dry lips and throat soothed by the water, but you furrow your brows at the look on Deacon’s face. He waits for the men to exit, closing the door behind them, to speak.

“I think we just found their soft spot,” he explains. He doesn’t mention that he’s developing his own soft spot for you.

✯✯✯✯✯

You force yourself to cry, screaming in faux pain as you push yourself against the control you’re tied to. Hooking your arm through it, pretending to be trapped, you follow Deacon’s instructions exactly.

“Hey, she needs help!” Deacon yells toward the door. “She’s losing circulation!”

The door opens, and two men enter, looking between you and Deacon.

“She tried to turn around and her arm got caught, you need to get her help,” Deacon explains. “Look, I’m a trained medic. All right? Let me out of here. Let me help her.”

“Unlock him,” one of the men says.

You continue your act as Deacon is released, standing before pushing one of the men against the wall and reaching for his taser. The second man grabs Deacon from behind, slamming him against the metal machinery he’s been tied to for what seems like forever. He groans as the men resecure his bindings, elevating his arms over his head.

“Torres is gonna lose the fight. He’s gonna do whatever you want, so there is no reason to keep her trapped like an animal,” Deacon exclaims. “Let her go.”

The men leave without another word, and you lean your face against your hands as Deacon’s chin drops toward his chest.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How much time do you think we have?” You stretch your legs toward Deacon, wishing you were feeling talkative for any other reason.

“I don’t know,” he answers.

“What are we going to do? And please don’t say you don’t know.”

Deacon chuckles, raising his shoulders. “Ow.”

“What?” you ask, looking up as Deacon moves his hands on the metal beam above him.

You hear the wire around his wrists scrubbing, and you know it has to be torture on his shoulders, but you grow hopeful at the prospect of Deacon freeing himself.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Footsteps,” you alert, just as Deacon’s arms drop, the wire snapping.

He rises, stumbling as he gains his bearings before moving to a corner behind the door to wait. Deacon is keeping his promise, and once you are safe, he’s going to try to make you shy again. It’s not necessarily a noble goal, but if it’s enough to get him through the fight, that’s all he needs.

One man enters, and Deacon waits for him to walk past before wrapping one arm around his neck, pulling tightly until the man collapses. You watch as Deacon finds a taser in his pocket, taking it before moving to untie you.

“All right. Come here,” Deacon whispers, helping you to your feet. “Are you in any actual pain or was that just really good acting?”

“I’m okay.”

Deacon looks into your eyes, nodding before leading you into a hallway. Someone yells, the sound echoing through the building.

“You can go without me, Deacon,” you offer, trying to release his hand.

His grip tightens, and he pulls you closer. “No, listen. Go in here. I’m going to lock you in here. You’ll be safe. Trust me, they’re gonna think you escaped. You just stay as quiet as possible.”

You grab his hand again, finding the courage to look directly into his brown eyes as you ask, “Will you come back?”

“I promised, didn’t I?”

You nod, releasing his hand and stepping back as the metal door closes on you.

✯✯✯✯✯

While you grow scared, alone in a locked room, Deacon is working on keeping his promise. A few blocks away, Gio is throwing a fight to save you. If your life weren’t in danger, you wouldn’t be able to handle this much attention.

You hear a police officer radio that a suspect is down and call for help. The door opens, and a man in a SWAT uniform identifies himself as a police officer.

“I got you,” he says, leading you to another officer, who takes you toward the door.

In another part of the theater, Deacon climbs onto the edge of a balcony, waiting for the right moment to drop onto the Schupatz lookalike, attempting to tase him before fighting over a gun. As they roll over one another, the trigger is pulled, and several bullets are fired into the large projector screen showing the fight.

Deacon rises to his hands and knees, knocking the other man off balance as he stands. Moving behind him, Deacon tackles the man, knocking over the projector as they fall together. Pinning the man to the floor, Deacon punches him until he stops fighting back.

“Deac!” Tan yells, entering the theater.

Deacon says your name and Hondo answers, “She’s outside with the EMTs.”

“We got the whole crew,” Street adds.

“It’s good to see you, Schupatz,” Hondo jokes.

“Good to see you, too,” Deacon replies. “All of you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

At the same time that Gio learns you are safe and turns the tide of the fight, you are watching the theater entrance for Deacon. When he walks out, rushing toward you, you stand and meet him halfway, hugging him tightly and pressing your face into his dirty blazer.

“Your face is cut, sir, we’re gonna need to tape that,” an EMT says.

“Give me a minute,” Deacon answers, tightening his grip on you.

“Let ‘em do their job,” you murmur.

Deacon huffs, and you feel his heartbeat as you pull away. Holding your hand, Deacon pulls you with him as the paramedic cleans and tapes the cut on his cheekbone.

“Still pretty,” you whisper.

Smiling widely, Deacon turns his head toward you. When you duck your head and try to pull your hand from Deacon’s, he chuckles and tugs you closer.

“This would be a terrible time to find out you’re leaving with Torres,” he murmurs.

You shake your head, explaining you’re based in Los Angeles but do freelance work with celebrities while they’re in town. Deacon is sure you’re a popular choice, unwilling or unable to talk to celebrities simply because of who you are.

“Esther went into labor,” Hondo tells Deacon. “They’re at Shaw Memorial.”

Deacon leads you to a grey Dodge Charger, taking the keys from Street before helping you into the passenger seat. He smiles as he drives, glad he completed both promises: getting you out safe and making you shy afterward.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hi,” you greet, walking into Esther’s hospital room.

Deacon enters behind you, waiting at the foot of the bed while you hug Gio and Esther, extending a finger to their new baby. Chris arrives a moment later, and Gio turns his attention to her and Deacon.

“I’m not sure how to thank you,” he expresses, hugging Chris.

Deacon watches you and the baby, a caring look in his eye accompanying his smile.

“Padre,” Gio greets, shaking Deacon’s hand before hugging him too.

You roll your eyes at the nickname again, and Deacon smiles when he notices.

“Mira,” Gio says, directing attention to his son.

“We name him Jorge,” Esther adds.

“Congratulations,” Chris offers.

“Welcome to the world, little man,” Deacon cheers, looking at Jorge before his eyes return to you.

Chris moves to close the door, and Deacon tears his eyes from you to speak to Gio and Esther. “So I know this isn’t a great time, but the Cuban delegation is camped out down the hall. This might be our only chance to talk.”

“They charted a flight to Havana for you, leaving Monday morning,” Chris adds.

“So I contacted your immigration lawyer in San Francisco, and he said he’ll be here Sunday night.”

“Thank you so much,” Gio replies. “Pero, how did you know?”

“Someone gets talktative when they’re held hostage,” Deacon jokes, looking over at you.

“Gracias, hermana,” Gio says, pulling you into another hug.

You’re glad to hide from Deacon for a moment, but when it’s time to leave, he takes your hand, and your skin warms immediately.

“I shouldn’t talk to you ever again,” you tell him.

“But you will?” he asks.

You nod, and Deacon turns to you, the same caring look present in his eyes as he raises his free hand to your cheek.

“Then I’m glad I kept my promise.”

“Seems like you have a soft spot too,” you mumble against his hand, leaning toward him.

“Maybe I do,” Deacon agrees, smiling as he moves his hand, wrapping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close. He kisses the crown of your head and laughs when you turn to hide against his suit again.

#david deacon kay x reader #shy!reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #fem!reader

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pocketramblr · 8 months

Note

AU where kid AFO tries to summon a powerful demon to kill his parents but he ends up summoning a young and still learning the ropes demon his age named Yoichi.

Lol so the reverse of this one fun

Hajime watched the summoning circle. The imp was shifting, melting into a bright human form. It's light and smoke faded, and suddenly a boy with an impossibly bright green eye was staring at him.

The demon's form was far from intimidating. Hajime wondered if it was to lure foolish summoners into underestimating it, trick them into breaking the circle.

"Why did you summon me?" The demon asked. His voice felt familiar. Eerie, a good touch.

"I want to make a deal."

The demon blinked. "What?"

"A pact, oath? I give you something, you do something for me."

"What am I supposed to do for you?" The demon sounded confused.

"Well, to start with, I want my parents dead."

The demon's mouth dropped open. "You- what?"

"Oh, you can collect both of their souls, if you want them."

The demon stared.

Hajime waved his hand to catch his attention. "Do you take souls?" He'd read about that in the Demon Lord versus Captain Hero comics- some special issue where the hero had almost been sacrificed.

"I mean, I guess, technically, we do?" The demon said it like it was a question. "Do you... know what I am?"

"A demon, I hope. Why, are there different types? Do I need to summon a soul eating one?"

"No, you don't need to do that. But, you know, demons punish sinners. You know that, right?"

"Oh, I don't care how you punish them. As long as they're gone."

The demon went from looking confused to something Hajime hated- pity. "Do they hurt you?"

Hajime shrugged. "Sometimes. What's that matter? Does it factor into how you kill them?"

"I'm not going to kill them! I'm going to help you." The demon shook his head, white hair flicking back and forth. "Look- I'm just interning in Hell this semester, but if I tell my supervisor I'm sure-"

"You're an intern?" Hajime had to ask, then quickly, "Hell has interns?"

"Um, yes?"

"Are they unpaid internships?" That would at least make a little more sense.

"I mean, I guess, we don't really have a currency system like humans do. We pick jobs we like and are good at, after studying and finding who we work best with, and are sustained in a way similar to a plant in sunlight. I'm interning in Hell because you're supposed to try everything, but really I'm more excited to try some of the Angel corps next decade, being a guardian sounds really cool and- are you still listening?"

Hajime was not, as he was considering that an intern was probably a pathetically weak demon who could not give him what he wanted, no matter how many souls he offered.

"Could I summon a more powerful demon to kill my parents?" He asked instead.

The demon's face fell.

"No." He said, very slowly. "You haven't lived long enough- humans get more powerful over their lives. You could probably summon someone at the level of my manager when you're, oh, fifty? But! I can absolutely tell them about your parents now, we can get someone to help you."

"How long would it take for me to be able to summon, like, a demon lord?"

"A... lord?" The demon repeated.

Oh right, he was an intern. So they probably called them... "A demon CEO?"

"Oh. Well, I guess the demon equivalent would be... It'd take you about 500 years."

"So I need to survive for five centuries." Hajime frowned. "Is there a lower level demon I could get that much longevity out of?"

"You're better off praying for a miracle." The demon boy answered plainly. "Oh, well- no."

"Well what?"

"It wouldn't matter- but, um, have you humans been noticing any strange things lately?"

Hajime stared at him. There were a lot of strange things. Like- oh. "Is living in Hell that literally under a rock? Yeah, I heard the news about the UBC pattern found, the meta-humans. Why?"

"It doesn't matter. Some humans might be born with such long lifespans now because of the- what did you call them? Meta? But you don't have a longevity one, so." The demon shrugged.

"Could I make a deal for one?"

"You don't need to, you've already got one." The demon blinked, then covered his mouth with a gasp. "Oh, I have no idea if I'm allowed to say that or not!"

"I... have a meta-power?"

The demon nodded, but kept the hands over his mouth.

"So you know where meta-powers come from. Did someone else make a deal?"

"No deals." The demon sighed, dropping his hand. "I'm not sure where you got that idea from anyway. But, I know my manager was talking to the circle's secretary about the new human powers. They thought it was from the Plague Department but she said it wasn't, she thought it was the Miracles Office and so... yeah, I'm not sure." He shrugged. "Can I... go, now?"

"No, I have more questions." He didn't, actually, but he had to stay in control of the demon summoning situation. "So, you say you don't make deals, but you can be summoned."

"Yeah, how did you even figure out how to summon me?"

"Comic book."

The demon tilted his head, interested. "Can you show me?"

Hajime didn't turn his back as he moved to get the issue from his pile, carefully handing it over so his arm didn't pass the circle around the demon.

The demon studied the panel with a hum, then began to flip through the other pages.

He kept reading. After a while, Hajime felt ignored.

He got an idea, and shifted back a little.

"Are you done looking at it?" He asked. "Be careful with it, I don't have the money to buy many of my own issues, so..."

The demon looked up, then nodded. "Right, sorry- here." He handed it back; in doing so, his hand had to pass a bit farther to reach where Hajime was, and it crossed the circle.

Hajime grabbed his hand, not the comic, and tugged him out.

"Hey!" The demon yelped, stumbling out of the circle. "What was that for?"

Instead of answering, Hajime clipped a bracelet of twisted metal wire around the demon's wrist.

"I was right." He said, carefully kicking and ruining the summoning circle. "That circle protects both of us. I would have been in your power if I went inside, and now you're in mine because you're outside. But the bracelet will keep you from having to go back to Hell."

The demon stared at him, then his wrist, then at him again.

"You aren't letting me go back?"

"You want to go back to Hell? To being an unpaid intern?" Hajime asked, pitching his voice up. "That awful place where they torture people? After you offered to help me?"

"Um, I'm really fine there, and it's only- no, wait. You were trying to help me too?" The demon squinted at him.

It didn't have much effect, half hidden behind the curtain of hair. This imp really was naive, it was almost cute.

"You're the only one who was nice to me, why wouldn't I?"

"Do you... have any friends?"

Hajime shook his head.

"Oh. Wow. Ok, there's a lot going on there. Um." The demon sighed. "Look, I want to help you, but I guess if you want me to stay a bit, maybe I could find out more about your parents, then take back word and bring it to the attention of someone who can do more?"

"Sure!" Hajime said with every intention of arguing that 'a bit' could mean '490 years', from a certain point of view.

This demon was too valuable to let him get away, not with his knowledge of meta-powers and other demons, plus his apparent desire towards aiding his summoner. Maybe that was part of the summoning too.

"We can go to the comic store- the library is still under reconsruction from the last riot- and look at whatever issues you want. My dad won't leave the house until six but any time after five Mom probably won't notice you sneaking in. Oh! We could tell people you're my little brother if you asked, I think we could pull it off." Hajime scooped up the comic book and pressed it into the demon's hand so he wouldn't keep messing with his circle cuff.

"What?"

"Let's go! Oh, right, what's your name?"

"I don't think I should tell you..."

"Fine, then I'll just call you little brother until you do." Hajime decided.

"Um, what's your name?"

He began to start tugging the demon to move, but paused. "You know I have a meta-power just by looking, but you don't know my name?"

"Names are different." the demon stressed, but let himself be pulled along.

Well that certainly explained the reluctance to share his.

"You can call me big brother, and I'll tell you mine when you tell me yours." Hajime decided. "Now come on, we're burning daylight."

He could figure out the killing-his-parents plan another day. For now, he needed to work on this development.

#whoops it became a whole thing #anon #pocket talks to people

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novasdarling · 2 years

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This is my last idea I swear. We’ve also seen Chrollo and Feitan when their significant other escapes, what about Phinks?

He is both easy and hard to deal with. See his anger gets him acting out before he can think. BUT he is also easy to manipulate with some sweet words and intimacy.

I'm Sorry

TW: Kidnapping Mentioned, Dubcon, Though gender/sex not really mentioned I did write with a female reader in mind, A Chase scene/predator&prey

The roads weren’t safe, the visibility was too high on them. It would be the first place he would look when he came home to an empty house. Phinks would be pissed, you were supposed to stay inside when he was gone. Only allowed out during the day to tend to the garden he had built for you. That was all, you certainly weren't allowed out into the woods. So far away from home and having no intentions of returning to your captor. If you didn't succeed, you weren't sure how he'd react.

It felt like you had been walking for hours, your feet sore and ready to give out. The sky was already fading, the sun setting as the moon became clearer. He would be home soon if he hadn't already arrived. You needed to distance yourself as much as you could before he started his hunt after you. Actually, give yourself as much of a chance you could get against a man like Phinks. Perhaps you could get to the other side of the forest, get to another cabin or a small town you know was on the Northern side of the woods. The only issue was you weren't sure you were heading North, you think you remember Phinks mentioning the lake was in the South so you headed away from there. Hoping you remembered the directions right. Your memory was your only chance to get away right now.

The option of staying in the woods was growing thinner by the minute. There would be no light soon, no way to properly see where you were going. It would push you towards the road in order to see. Or another option would be to find somewhere to hide and sleep till daylight. Each option offered benefits and drawbacks. Phinks would probably look on the roads first. Then when he didn’t find you he would search the woods. It would be too obvious to go towards the roads first. The best option was to stay in the forest. As you found a tree to lay under and rest, you hoped he would think you would go for the obvious option. It was the only way you would have any chance of getting away from him.

Phinks had come home late that night. Taking longer with the troupe than he originally thought. He hoped you didn't wait up for him, he had some plans for tomorrow and you would need your sleep. Pulling into the lane by the house he was stunned when he saw all the lights out. Not one window was illuminated. Sure he was late, but typically you kept a hallway or bathroom light on. It was odd to see the house completely dark like this. Phinks began to worry, this difference in behaviour couldn’t mean anything good, and he was right. As he ran into the house, searching every room for you. Every room he didn’t find you in, worried him further. When he walked through the last room, his heart shanked. You weren't there and no matter how many times he called your name and shouted threats. You were still nowhere to be found. You were truly gone, nowhere in the house. Not even hiding from him like you did occasionally. His usual threats weren't pulling you out. You were gone.

Running out of the house Phinks screamed your name. Stupidly pleading for you to come out wherever you were. It was no use, you wouldn’t appear. You were gone, he knew that, but now the question of where did you go? There wasn’t a town for a few kilometres, that would be a good place to run to. Hopping into the car, ready to head out to you, he paused. Sure, the road was the best bet, there was light and chances are someone would see you and take pity. Yet, something in his mind told him you wouldn’t pick that route. It was too obvious. Looking towards the woods, he guessed you would go in that direction. Though harder, it was safer when it came to your hiding ability. There were a number of areas you could hide from him to buy you more time. He both hated and admired you for being so smart. Getting out of the car he headed towards the woods. Hoping to find you before the morning light.

It wasn’t long until he found hints of you, hair caught on low branches, footsteps. He was never a tracker, but fortunately, his prey didn’t know much about hiding their tracks. All leading towards to you. Fast asleep under a tree, using fallen branches and bushes to shelter you. If he wasn’t so irritated, he would take some time to admire your sleeping form. Looking so peaceful even when you had caused so much distress to him. He took a moment to go over what he should do. Wake and berate you, let you know what you have done to him. How you drove him crazy with worry by not being home waiting for him like he always told you to. The pain you inflicted on him by running away was like nothing else. Phinks always told you running away was the worse thing you could do to him. Was being with him so bad that you rather be out here, under a tree in the cold of the night than with him? He loved you, provided you with food, shelter, and gifts. Was he not enough? Phinks was his own worst enemy, riling himself up. You still hadn't opened up to him fully. Staying reserved around him, not openly seeking affection, but accepting most of his. He thought you were getting better, understanding why you were with him. Yet, as he watched you sleep under the tree, he realized he was wrong. You weren’t getting better. He still needed to work on you. Picking you up without waking you, he carried you home. Taking his time planning a suitable punishment for such crude behaviour. He allowed you outside during the day to tend to that garden he so kindly built. He gave you so many freedoms and tolerated all your little wishes. Many of the troupe weren’t so kind to their darlings. Some didn’t even let them leave the shared bedroom even after months of being together. Phinks was sweet and kind, he cared for you and did what was best for you. He wanted you happy and did his best to make it happen. Even after all that, you ran. You left him, basically spat in his face. Pushed his generosity aside for this little tantrum. It was just something he couldn’t forgive. You needed to be dealt with.

It was morning by the time you woke up. The light shining in your eyes forcing you awake. You would think the leaves and branches from the tree tops would do better at filtering the light. It took you a moment to realize why you had slept so well. You weren't on the rocky ground anymore. No, now you were in the bed you shared with that man. Shooting up, you looked around. Expecting to see him there somewhere. Peering down at you, holding you down, but no. He wasn’t in the room. Your options were limited, either go and find him and face his wrath or wait and face his wrath. Either way, you would have to deal with his anger. After waiting a few minutes, you decided to get up. It would be better to get it over with. To find out what he was going to do to you. You had never run away before. Disobeyed his orders a few times sure, especially in the beginning. Leading to you getting tied up, privileges stripped, and locked in a room while you thrashed and yelled for an hour or two to calm you down. He had never laid a hand on you unless it was to restrain you. Never willingly harming you physically, but what if this was what made him snap? He had kidnapped you, kept you locked up. Physical violence wasn’t far off. Heading towards the door you tried to prepare yourself, he wouldn’t kill you. He always talked about how he loved you and you two were meant to be. It was clear Phinks was crazy, but not kill-the-person-you-loved-crazy.

You prepared yourself for the worse, but your blood ran cold as the handle refused to turn. Trying again, but it was still locked. He had trapped you in the bedroom. Shaking and slamming the door did nothing, it was truly locked. He had found you and brought you back only to lock you up in the bedroom. This couldn’t be good. Even during the early days, he let you roam around the house, only confining you in rooms when he left for missions or went to the nearest town for a grocery run. Him locking you away wasn’t a good sign.

“Phinks!” You pounded on the door, hoping he was still here. That he didn’t leave you locked up to die. “Phinks! Please!”

After pounding and kicking the door, there was noise coming from the other side. Movement heading towards you. He was still here, he hadn't left you to die. But as each step got closer, you began to think perhaps him being here wasn’t such a good option either. Phinks had made it clear running away was the worst you could do to him. It was something he just couldn’t tolerate. As he made his way through the door, the realization of what you had done hit. You broke his most important rule. As he shoved the door open, almost breaking it. You realized you were right, running away was a mistake. Crawling back on the bed, moving backwards trying to distance yourself from him. When he was angry, he tended to act without thinking about things fully.

“Phinks I’m sorry, I-”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it.” He was standing at the end of the bed. Peering down at you. “I leave you alone for a day, a day! I trust you enough to be able to go outside and play with that little garden of yours. I trusted you.”

“I know, I don’t know-”

“I said shut up! You don’t get to beg and plead after what you did. Apologize after you hurt me. It’s clear you don't fucking mean it.”

You wanted to plead with him, to grant you mercy for your mistake. Even though you didn’t regret the act fully. You knew it was better to plead and cry and try to appeal to the little humanity he had with you. All there was left to do was curl up and cry as he berated you. Let him get his anger out on how foolish you were, how cruel you could be to him. There was no getting away from him now.

Phinks took his time yelling at you, detailing how you disappointed him. How hurt he was by all of this. He thought you were better, that you liked being here. Liked being with him, but it turns out he was wrong. He had been too soft on you, too kind when you hadn't done the same with him. Somehow, he was making you feel bad, that you had taken his kindness for granted even though he had kidnapped you.

“Now the question is what to do with you?” Phinks was pacing back and forth, keeping his eyes on you. “I can’t trust you to be alone, that’s clear. Don’t even know if I can trust you outside anymore.”

“You-” He stopped pacing to stare at you. Shutting you up right away.

“Good, seems like you can learn.”

Phinks took a deep breath before taking a seat on the bed. Getting as close to you as he could while still giving you space. You weren't sure if that space was for you, or for him. Giving himself space so he hurt you. You looked at him, waiting for him to say something. To tell you what his plans were. What exactly your punishment was going to be.

“It’s hard to be mad at you.” He breathed out, giving you the softest look he had since this argument began.

“I’m sorry” You sat up, crawling towards him. Hoping to appease to his softer side. You could lie your way out of this if you tried hard enough. “I feel so bad, I just got scared being alone and ran. I didn’t even know where to go. I just ran without a plan.” Rubbing his cheek and forcing him to look at you. “I don’t like being alone, I just got scared and ran. It was stupid and I can't tell you how sorry I am.”

Crawling into his lap to see his face better. Peppering kisses along his jaw, telling him over and over how sorry you were. How much you loved him, how stupid you were. Hoping to win his favour. As you continued, you could see him smiling. Humming at every kiss you gave him. He was enjoying this, there was a chance you could really convince him you didn’t want to get away. That you made a mistake you regret.

"You weren't trying to get away from me?"

"No I wasn't, I could never. I was just scared of being alone."

“And you’re sorry?”

“Yes, I am. I wish I stayed like you said to. I started to regret my choice, but it was too late. It was too dark and I wasn’t sure which way was home. I thought if I waited till morning, I could find my way back.” It was a lie, but Phinks always thought the best of you. You hoped that hadn't stopped.

“That’s why you were sleeping?”

“Yes, I wanted to go back, but couldn’t.”

“Oh babe, you must have been so scared.”

Phinks smiled at you. He was back, back to thinking so little of you that you just weren't able to build up the courage to run. He was buying your story, but you could tell he was still mad, still holding back from trusting you fully.

“Let me show you how sorry I am, please.”

You took his silence as confirmation to continue. Pressing yourself closer to him, letting your lips drift to his. He happily accepted your kiss. Letting you take the lead, proving to him how much he meant to you. Although intimacy wasn’t new between you two, you had never taken the lead before. This was all new territory, a part of you was repulsed by being with your captor. Yet, you continued on, hoping he wouldn’t demand more than a kiss and some touches. But as he placed his hands on your hips to keep you in place. Letting you know, he wanted more than just kisses.

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intotheseas · 1 month

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Hello 👋. I hope you take requests. I have just a little tiny one. I would give my arm and leg to see someone being brave enough to call us a MUDBLOOD in a way Ominis and/or Sebastian could hear. Ahhhh, the angst and drama would be perfect for a crippling insomniac reader (like myslef) Thank you so much in advance. Love your work btw

One, I'm honoured you'd say that, so thank you! Two, absolutely! Writing violence is kinda foreign to me, so this is short and I'm sorry if it's awful haha. Also, I hope you don't mind but I took this as an opportunity to play around with present tense a little. Here's what I came up with. Hope you like it! :)

Tainted - 1,014 words - contains graphic violence, read below the break or here on AO3.

The library’s floor-length windows cast the last of the sun’s light across Sylvia’s table. The dusty smell of books and sound of pages turning surrounds her, lulling her into a stupor. She’s yawning, diligently scratching the last of her essay onto parchment. Plans for a night spent by the fire with her friends Ominis and Sebastian form in her mind when a malicious voice speaks behind her.

“Can’t believe they let that filthy Mudblood into Slytherin. It’s like this school doesn’t stand for anything anymore. What’s the point of being proud of your house when they’re allowing any old trash in now?” The voice is cruel, mocking. Clearly, he wants her to hear.

The bitter words cut at Sylvia like a blunted knife. Mudblood? Yet another thing to learn about this strange new world. Compared to the orphanage she spent her life in, Hogwarts is another beast entirely. Coming in as a fifth year has been intimidating enough, but the politics and prejudices of wizardkind mystify her. She assumes she’s supposed to feel insulted, but it’s difficult when she doesn’t even know what the word means.

Sylvia turns around to see two older Slytherin boys leering at her and sniggering. Probably seventh years, she guesses. She meets their eyes, an eyebrow raised. “Sorry, Mudblood? Care to explain?”

They stop laughing and glare. “We don’t speak to subhumans,” one retorts. Venom drips from his voice, and Sylvia’s a little surprised at the overt malice in his eyes. She hasn’t spoken to them once, yet they clearly hate her. “Do all of wizardkind a favour and go back to the muggles. Your kind isn’t wanted here,” the other boy says. They rise from their seats, passing her in a huff, the latter knocking his bag roughly against her shoulder.

She stares after them, bemused. Insults are nothing new to her; she’s more than used to hearing things like “worthless”, “peasant”, and “pity case” from muggles. They stopped hurting a long time ago. Growing up in an orphanage quickly taught her to fend for herself and stay out of petty arguments. Sylvia shrugs, returning to the last words of her essay.

Later, she relaxes in front of the fire with Sebastian and Ominis. The warmth is comforting as they joke and share a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans. Sylvia has a soft spot for Ominis and picks the nastiest beans out of his pile, furtively puts them in Sebastian’s for a laugh. His expressions when he tastes the earwax flavour are all the reward she needs. It’s a comfortable dynamic the three have built in the months since Sylvia came to Hogwarts, marked by a love language of banter and trust.

She’s about to open another box when a hand grips the back of the sofa, knocking against her shoulder. “Dirty fucking Mudblood, already getting cosy with Slytherin boys, huh? Bet you’re as easy as your blood is filthy.” She turns back, meeting the eye of the older boy who taunted her in the library. She’s about to tell him she doesn’t know what a Mudblood is, but Ominis is already on his feet and facing the boy, his wand out. His face contorts into a livid scowl.

“Pardon? Care to elaborate, Williams? Or perhaps you’d prefer to fuck off.” His voice is icy.

Williams sneers. “No surprise that the Gaunt blood traitor would defend the Mudblood. Is it just the two of you, or do you share her with Sallow?”

Sebastian barks out a laugh. His arms are crossed, a defiant look on his face. “Why? Are you interested in joining?”

Sylvia leans over to Sebastian, whispers. “What on earth is a Mudblood, anyway? He called me that earlier in the library, too.” He looks back at her, the humour gone from his eyes.

“It’s pretty much one of the worst things you can call someone,” he mutters back. “Means someone who has magic but was born to muggles. It’s supposed to imply their blood is dirty.”

Sylvia laughs. “Wait, that’s supposed to be hurtful?” She turns around again, tilts her head up proudly and meets Williams’ eye. “Why should I feel insulted by something I have no control over? If you wanted an excuse to talk to me, you could have just said hi, you know.”

Williams’ jaw clenches, his eyes narrowed. “Know. Your. Place. Mudblood,” he spits. His fists shake at his side for a moment, and then he slaps her, hard. The crack of his open palm against Sylvia’s face stuns her for a moment, and when she gathers her wits, both Ominis and Sebastian are already on top of him.

Ominis holds the boy down by his robes while Sebastian lands blows on Williams’ face. “Call our friend a fucking Mudblood, will you? How’s this feel?” William’s head smacks against the stone floor with a loud crack as Sebastian lands one last punch. Blood trickles from his mouth, bruises already blooming across his cheek.

Sebastian stands up and spits on him, his face a mask of utter disdain. “It’s filth like you that taints the name of Slytherin, not muggle-borns. Fucking disgusting.” He looks at the crowd gathering to see the spectacle. “Anyone else want to call anyone a Mudblood?”

No one speaks.

He kicks Williams’ side and returns to the couch, grabbing the box of sweets from Sylvia. Ominis joins them. “I’m sorry you had to witness that,” he murmurs. “Utter pettiness. If that happens again, come to us. We’ll take care of it.”

Behind them, Williams crawls toward the exit to the common room. Sebastian turns his head casually. “By the way, Williams, you tell anyone about this and they’ll hear all about what you’ve been calling Sylvia!” he sings. “Hope you have Wiggenweld handy!”

“You guys really didn’t need to do that, but…thanks,” Sylvia says. She feels warmth spreading in her chest. It’s a little foreign to her, but not unwelcome. Maybe it isn’t so bad to depend on others, she thinks. She picks out the grossest beans from Sebastian’s pile and tosses them into the fire.

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy imagines #hogwarts legacy requests

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multifandomgrabage · 2 years

Text

Random and non cohesive HB thoughts, particularly season 2:

I don’t condone or support Stella’s actions, but I am very disappointed in how she is written. Im fine with her being a villain, and I’ll even let a lack of a backstory slide! My main issues with Stella are:

A) Being 1 dimensional. Please, give her traits outside of “bitch” and “angry at Stolas”. The majority of the fan base already is (somehow) in support of Stolitz, you don’t need another prop to keep your ship going. (subpoint to a): Also, not a fan of the “wife finds out that her husband is queer” trope, but whatever, she is a villain. Its pretty fucking basic though.

B) Her lines. My fucking gosh, her lines are so fucking flat and weightless. You’d think that something an abuser says would stick and sound intimidating, but no. We get “I LiKe ToRmEnTiNg YoU”. For fucks sake, what was that?! As someone who grew up with an abusive mother, I can confidently say that no one will say that. Its like they didnt respect their ADULT audience enough to figure things out and felt they had to have a giant ass neon sign screaming

“LOOK HERE, THIS IS ABUSIVE, SHE SAID SHE LIKES HURTING HIM! A-B-U-S-E! NOW GO AND FORGET ABOUT ANY TERRIBLY TOXIC THINGS STOLAS OR BLITZO HAVE DONE”

Clearly the show is meant for adult audiences. We don’t need to be told what is and isn’t abuse. Why not do a little something called “show vs tell”? Some alright examples they have previously done are the portraits usually having just Stolas and Octavia, or a pissed Stella. Or seeing how she threw a fucking imp butler across the room.

I got a bit off topic, but here are some ways id probably write her:

A narcissist. To the outside world, she is friendly Stella, who just likes to party and smile. She has a perfect family, and everyone loves her. But under the surface, in order to feel superior she puts Stolas down constantly, through verbal abuse and perhaps some physical. Her love for Octavia is conditional, she is only pleased as long as everyone is doing everything to her command. All this possibly stems from an inferiority complex that she desperately covers through a high ego, false confidence and making sure others feel lesser to her.

Some possible lines?:

“You are nothing without me. You think you can make it on your own without me? You cant even take care of Octavia, what makes you think you can handle yourself”

“You would choose a lowly imp over me? I guess I shouldn’t have expected more from someone as low as you”

“You don’t even deserve to have me, consider yourself lucky that I am willing to stay”

“You look so damn stupid like that, singing in your self pity. Had you stuck with me, you wouldn’t have been in that position.” That or someone else mentioned Blitzo and Stella being childhood friends, her being arranged with Stolas, and then having the cheating incident

whoever had that idea is a genius.

C: Why is her design so damn good? I love fancy pigeons and they made her a fancy pigeon. (this isn’t a complaint but a thought)

Moving on from Stella, lets get to S2 E2…

I was so excited to have an episode where it wasn’t the Stolitz shipping show. I got my hopes too high. The one positive thing Ill say is that I enjoyed the adoption flashback. Maybe I read too much into it but it feels kind of like a commentary in how shitty the adoption system is, especially to teenagers. Any kid really, as they’re treated like literal dogs, and then kicked out on the street.

Back to me complaining about shit:

For one, why did we spend so much fucking tome in that stupid ass sitcom? If Stolas is such a caring dad, shouldn’t he just leave and look for Octavia? So much character growth could have happened in that time.

I know that Loona didn’t just tell Octavia to just deal with her dad neglecting her just because “he’s trying”. Its HIS responsibility as a parent to take care of his kid, and Octavia has every right to be upset st him and her circumstances. Her parents have been unstable, but after a divorce, even more so. Her dad has straight up ignored her, in favor of arguing with Stella. She did nothing wrong and has nothing to apologize for. I got so excited when Stolas started to apologize, but then Octavia apologized.

Did I mention that there was 4 minutes of Octavia and Loona together at most? Despite the thumbnail? Yeah, that blowed.

Honestly the only reason I keep up anymore is because of the animation and the weak dying hope that it’ll get better.

thats all ig, please don’t be rude in the comments. You can disagree but keep it civil. Going to bed now, bye

EDIT: So Imma randomly add a brainbarf of thoughts here too, because I do not feel like organizing shit. My brain's thoughts just expand everywhere, so bare with me.

Another reason why Stella's abuse doesn't really land is because Stolas just... doesn't seem afraid of her at all? For someone who claims to love tormenting someone, she sure is doing a shitty job at it. The way that Stolas would just have the balls (or cloaca ig) to keep going out using Blitz, worry free despite his wife doesn't give the vibes of "Victim of Domestic violence, verbal and physical abuse" to me.

To continue on why her abuse doesn't land, it has to do with the nature of this show and how it portrays stuff. It gets very confusing. Loona assaulting Blitz, Blitz and Asmodeus (on separate occasions) touching Moxie's groin area (without consent) and Multiple characters using slurs against Moxie is supposedly "funny".

Personally I don't find it humorous, but I do get somewhat jaded and desensitized to stuff like that happening. Not to say that it's acceptable behavior, but you do kind of get used to it and take it a little less seriously in the context. In S1E2 Stella is seen screaming and throwing shit around. This *can* be seen as portrayal of abuse, but given that many characters do similar shit it can also be seen as another unfunny attempt at humor.

Fast forward to season 2, if you've lasted that long you should expect some edgy shit like that to be written in a way that tries to excuse it. But all of a sudden, we get "Actually, abuse is bad. Feel bad for Stolas because he is abused by his wife. Yeah, we constantly make our characters do abusive things too, but it's funny when they do it, just ignore it and feel bad for Sad Gay Owl Man."

What? The fuck? Is the deal with powers, especially human disguises? Initially I thought that maybe only Succubi and Incubi, as well has hellhounds had the power because some hellborns are more powerful than others. How would that work if Hellhounds are below Imps in the hierarchy though? By that logic, shouldn't Imps also get that power? So that idea doesn't work. I don't fucking know why or how any of this works. Theres no storybuilding or explanation for it. For something that appears so often, I think there should be. The purpose of a human disguise is to blend in among the human world, so I can see Succubi/Incubi having that power because I'd assume they're some of the only demons allowed to go to the human world. I wouldn't know why a hellhound would come to Earth, but I guess they just have the power too?

Speaking of rules about demons on Earth that weren't explained!

Stolas is able to summon himself in some big scary owl demon form without his book ANYWHERE near him in "Truth Seekers". Yet in S2E2 he can only conjure up a poorly designed human form because now his powers are attached to the book? HUH?! Where is the consistency?

Also, given that IMP is big enough to get a commercial, how have they not gotten in trouble for breaking what I assume is one of hell's only rules? We know that they aren't supposed to be there, and yet this seems to have no consequence? Having them have to try and fly below the radar in hell would raise stakes a lot more imo.

But whatever, fuck the rules, because there are none!

______________________________________________________

Unrelated rambles, but still kind of relevant and similar? I just don't want to make a separate post.

I don't like Andrealphus' design. It's way too bright and saturated and honestly has my eyes strain a lot, despite not being red. I kinda wanna redesign him. Also I feel like he's gonna be yet another gay stereotype, which is always fun to have /s.

Lucifer's design is underwhelming. Not necessarly because the design is bad on its own, but because of two things:

A) Too many characters look like that. We have too many skinny white Tumblr Sexyman Twinks. We have too many characters with that copy paste smile. Too many characters in suits. He just doesn't stand out. This leads me to my next point.

B) His design doesn't say "Lucifer, King and Ruler of Hell, Fallen Angel". It says "Generic Vivziepop Snarky Guy with a quirky interest". BEFORE SOME OF YALL START SAYING "B-but ackshually he pwobably haz a more dwemwonic fowm 🤓", respectfully, no. I feel that the leader of hell should have a default design that commands some kind of respect out of fear, it doesn't have to be crazy, but it should be intimidating, and stand out. What kind of king just blends into a crowd of his own people? Especially in a fantasy? This is fiction, and there is no reason to hold back and not try something new. In fact, 90% of the characters being skinny could actually be used as an advantage, because then you could just make Lucifer's bodyshape different from the default and he'd already stand out much more.

Fuck it, two redesigns coming up. When I'm done I'll link them here.

#helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss stolas #helluva boss critical #helluva boss octavia #helluva spoilers #helluva loona #anti stolitz #helluva stella #rambles #not edited #now its edited #anyways uh #if anyones wondering im not really an anti of the show #but im not really a fan either?#ill see it come up and watch it casually and have thoughts

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anotherrosesthatfell · 9 months

Text

E.L.A characters opinion on Starcross

Dream:

"I feels like I spoiled him but Starcross is such a sweetheart! Palette seems dislike Starcross... I hope my children can get along. Starcross really has the potential to be the next heir but of course, Palette deserve the throne."

Cross:

"My adorable baby is adorable <3. My daughter is also adorable. Damn I regret leaving Dream in the past but I am here to redeem myself. Palette is a good child but I hope he stop hating Starcross."

Lux:

"my little brother is a brat but he is very useful and easy to be manipulated... I feel bad for ruining his childhood by making him bully Palette but hey, I need a sidekick. My little brother sure do love me a lot. I honestly don't really trust him to take the throne but oh well, I need to manipulate him until the very end."

Palette:

"Why the fuck I always get evil siblings. My older sister is a bitch, my little brother is a brat! WHAT THE FUCK- I'm sorry for yelling but I am crying honestly. I hate this, I hate everyone. No one wants to leave me the fuck alone. PAPA AND THAT MAN TOO, THEY ARE TOO BLIND!!! I do respect mister Cross but ain't no way I'm calling him my dad."

Swap:

"such an energetic child! I don't like the fact Dream married to Cross but my friend is happier than before... So I guess it's fine."

Hope:

"Oh... Starcross is a wonderful child. Palette seems to hate him a lot, I don't understand why. I am happy for my lord... Oh, am I crying? Sorry, I didn't mean to cry, I am supposed to be happy for him..."

Ink:

"... Wow, Dream really hooked up with Cross after he knows I cheated on him... That's so unexpected. Their son is uhh... I need to say Starcross is a terrible child. I only can meet Palette on his birthday and he always cries to me and begging me to take him in. I wish I could, my son is clearly in pain.. I regret cheating on him, I shouldn't done it. Now my baby is suffering because of my consequence."

Error:

"I pity that blonde... I mean Palette. He once ran away from his home and came to our house. He sobbing on Ink's shoulders and begged her to never let him back again... It's a pitiful sight... So I forced Dream to let Ink take the half custody, after that Palette can only stay with us in weekends. It's not like I care, I just pity him."

Drop:

"I don't like Starcross.. In fact, I hates him a lot. I'm scared of him, he kills my friends and the reason is because they made me cry. It wasn't like that, I incidentally bite my tongue and cries. My friends do tease me about it and he killed them. I'm not even his best friend, I'm scared if I say that he will torment me too.."

Nightmare:

"I am disappointed in Cross. He was my favorite subordinate until he decided to actually fell in love with that bastard. Their child is a toxic positivity but I do enjoy the he spread nasty negativity.."

Killer:

"I know I shouldn't blame a child but I can't help it. He is the reason why my baby die.. Oh Merciless... Why God hate me so much, why he needs to take my babies away from me... Why, why, WHY?!"

Dust:

"Well Swap was right when he said Starcross is a respectful child. He understands immediately why I choose to be trans, it's so sweet of him."

Horror:

"he compliments my cooking... No one ever compliments my cooking before... It's a refreshing feelings. He is also not scared of my look when we first met, he said I look like a badass. What a nice memory."

Crescent:

"He is well mannered and very respectful while praying but Palette doesn't like him. Of course, if Palette doesn't like someone, it's obvious that the person he dislike is a major problem."

Merciless (if he is still alive):

"Ah... Brother of Lux. He is energetic... I am thankful he keeps my company and tells me stories..."

Angst (if he is still alive):

"Uhm... He is well mannered, I like hearing his stories. I am thankful for his sister for saving my little brother. That day, if she didn't broke into the castle... Merciless probably already be dead... I'm so thankful, I don't know how to express my gratitude but I support those two siblings."

Nim:

"I was thinking to make him the protagonist instead of Palette but my son wants him to sided with the antagonist. Oh well, as long it entertains me."

Passive Nightmare:

"I like to have pure blood related siblings to be in the same side. Beside, it was a good idea to manipulated his brain. He is a sadist just like me. Dream is happy which is I dislike about it but oh well, his other son is suffering."

Lily (what if au):

"His eyes are very unique. I want it but oh well, if I take his eyes. He will die which is I want to avoid doing that. I like how he torment Palette, it's a good sight to see Palette crying face. He is so handsome when he cries... Pfft... I appreciates him a lot when he gave me bodies he killed. I can happily decorated them with so many accessories!"

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mooniety · 8 months

Text

i'm bored so here's a little info dump about the metasusie siren au i made two months ago:

TRIGGER WARNING: extremely brief mention of suicide

Starting off with the original one (where Meta's a siren/serpent thing):

Susie lives in a village near the sea.

Haltmann is a wealthy merchant whose health is slowly deteriorating due to an illness he obtained after his most recent travel across the ocean which has caused him to fall into a coma.

Coping with her current circumstances, Susie starts to sing in an isolated area by the shore to let out her internal struggles & pain. She is not aware that the day she begins to do so, a funny sea monster (Meta) is currently causing ruckus in the area (eating fishermen).

Because Meta is near the shore having his meal of the day, he happens to hear Susie singing & due to his siren instincts, he's immediately attracted to the song & follows it to find Susie. After this, he begins to appear by the shore more often to solely listen to her sing (& terrorize the village more I guess).

After months of failure & now more than desperate to find a way to wake her father from his coma, Susie begins to believe in the village's rumors & myths, specifically one that states that if you sacrifice yourself to the ocean, your greatest wish will come true. (Just a reminder from your local responsible adult: Rumors & myths such as this are not real & I do not in any way advocate this. This is suicide.)

One day, while waiting for Susie to sing, Meta hears a large splash into the ocean, goes to check on it, & lo & behold, it's Susie.

Even though she technically is an easy meal of the day, he instead decides to save her as he is completely aware of what she's doing (not the rumor, just the suicide). Also he developed an extremely one-sided crush listening to her sing for a few months (Susie has never been truly aware of his presence up until this point; only knowing him as "Oh yeah, did you know there's a huge humanoid serpent in the ocean that eats humans & lives really close to us?" & dubbed by the villagers as "Sword of the Sea" as Galaxia is infused into his tail).

After Susie realizes she's alive, Meta immediately dishes out a deal with her: in return for saving/waking her father, he'll have her voice (YEP IT TAKES THE LITTLE MERMAID TURN KINDA). As in, she can't see her father because she's too busy singing for the fish man. This is where their purely contractual to lovers relationship starts!

Over time, Susie gets to know more about Meta & his life so his feelings for her are eventually reciprocated. Think of it as a Beauty & The Beast montage.

Anyways, Haltmann's all good & Susie has a lover yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I also have a flipped version where Susie's the siren:

Meta is an infamous pirate, known as the "Knight of the Seven Seas." The Meta-Knights are his crew & his ship's obviously called the Halberd.

His current mission is to capture the Voice of the Sea (Susie) alive so he can get that sweet bounty on her head.

The reason why Susie is being hunted down/has a bounty is due to her rumored voice - seen as more of a commodity/prize than an actual living being.

He manages to easily injure & capture her, but notices that she's not really all she's made out to be - she's oddly not very hungry for humans & her domain looks more like an underwater memorial for someone rather than a graveyard of sailors.

This is because Susie's domain is an actual memorial to her dead mother, who died a long time ago after being accidentally killed by sailors. (Original characters?! Nah, too lazy to make them.)

After being captured, Susie explains that she's partially human as her father was a human merchant that would travel the seas to bring prosperity to other nations & she has been singing for years under the hopes that her father will reunite with her someday. However, after waiting for over a decade, he still hasn't arrived.

Pitying her, Meta decides to make a deal with her: if she helps him make her bounty, he'll help her reunite with her father. This is where their purely contractual to eventual lovers relationship starts!

During their adventure searching for Susie's father, Susie learns about nature beyond the sea (such as flowers) in which Meta explains that they're used to show respect to the dead (comparing it to how sirens show respect to their dead through treasure & valuables). In every island they visit, Susie collects more & more flowers, hoping to add them to her mother's memorial when she finally returns with her father.

To add in a bit of fluff, when Meta first introduces Susie to the concept of flowers, he places one in her hair, explaining to her that this is usually a gesture to indicate affection, but immediately doubles down stating that he just did it to educate her. (Haha, sure.)

Eventually, they both learn that Susie's father died a long time ago due to health complications as after learning about the loss of his wife, he attempted to search for his only family left, his own daughter (Susie) to no avail as his complications caught up to him before any possible reunion.

When they finally visit his grave, Susie decides to decorate his grave with all the flowers they collected over their previous journeys.

Anyways, Meta gets his money but also a lover yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#metasusie #kirby au #susie haltmann #susanna patrya haltmann #meta knight

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newcomernewcums · 1 year

Note

Can I get a combo of "A kiss from someone the other didn't think thought of them that way" "A kiss stemmed from jealousy" & "An angry kiss in the rain" from the Kiss Promt list perhaps? W/ Price × reader idc if it's sfw or not. Ya girl just needs a lil angst 🤤 I may be asking for too much but..😶‍🌫️

two ppl asked for kissing in the rain so i’m combining it into this! Happy valentine’s yall im eating so much chocolate

Price x reader (MOSTLY sfw (i’m reading this back there’s one lil implied fantasy whoops im so sorry im keeping it tho), age difference, lil’ angsty with a happy ending):

He shouldn’t’ve entertained it in the first place. As soon as he noticed the way you stared at him he should’ve pulled you aside, stopped talking to you, anything to nip it in the bud. It’s wrong on so many levels, he’s your superior, he’s training you, he’s…significantly older.

He doesn’t do anything to stop it, though. Can’t even bring himself to care about the age difference when his mind wanders to what his hands would look like wrapped around your waste, what you would look like pressed into his pubic hair, throat constricting around his—

It’s a problem now. He has to shut it down.

It’s valentine’s day and he’s sitting in his office, pouring over papers utterly alone. It doesn’t get to him, really, it’s just… not a fun day.

His head shoots up at a knock on the door, and then his heart sinks as you step into the room. It’s in his stomach when he glances down to see you holding a single rose in a tiny round glass. Where the fuck did you get a rose on base? He doesn’t say anything as you place it on the edge of his desk, stays quiet as you confess your feelings, eyes sweet and hopeful.

Any why wouldn’t you be hopeful? He’s indulged you too much, indulged himself. Allowed smalltalk to led to deeper conversations, let you sit on the roof with him as he smokes, told you to call him John, put his jacket around your shoulders when you got cold. He’s been so fucking stupid, and now you’re here with a red rose on valentine’s day and he has to break your heart.

You’re crying as you leave his office.

He’s pulled to the party against his better judgement. Ends up standing in the corner, talking to Soap and Gaz as he looks at the pitiful cut-out hearts and streamers taped to the ceiling. Last minute decorations since it had to be moved inside when it started raining. He ruefully thinks that that’s apt.

He’s trying to ignore you across the room, stop his eyes from wandering over everytime Soap goes on another tangent. He’s failing miserably. He thought he had more control, but you’re dressed up—taking advantage of one of the only times you don’t have to be in uniform—and surrounded by other recruits. Your friends, he guesses as he pushes down the jealous twinge in his stomach everytime you smile at one of them.

You look…happy. Genuinely happy, the kind of happy that makes his heart skip a beat every time he draws it out of you. That should be good, he knows he should be glad that whatever you were feeling for him was just a schoolyard crush, but it just makes his blood boil.

He tries to convince himself it’s fine. He’s not thinking about you. He’s not regretting every action that led him here—and he’s definitely not thinking about the rose he has tucked in a shelf in his desk where nobody else can see it—as one of your “friends” takes the liberty to wrap an arm around your lower back to lean in and whisper something in your ear.

But his feet are moving as soon as he sees you leave the group, following you into the small kitchen on base, effectively blocking you in as you try to refill your drink.

You feel him immediately, stiffening up, turning towards him with wide and confused eyes.

“John-?”

“Your friends seem pretty comfortable around you,” comes out before he can stop it.

“W-what?” You look cute when you’re confused, nose scrunching up as you take a step backwards. It only serves to make him angrier.

“Just thought you needed a reminder of appropriate relations,” he growls, crossing his arms as your confusion starts to morph into anger, “I was prepared to let your little stunt go earlier, but if you’re slutting yourself out all over base-“

“Fuck you, Price,” you push past him, out the doors towards the barracks. The look on your face is seared into his brain, there was only a second of anger before your eyes were welling with tears and you just looked broken.

He’s chasing you before he can think. The rain is heavy, immediately soaking through his clothes straight to his skin but he doesn’t fucking care. He catches up to you easily, grabbing your arm and spinning you around to say something, but you’re yelling at him before he can figure out what to say.

And he knows he’s cruel, and he knows you should hate him, he knows they were just your friends, and he overreacted, and you don’t say it, but he knows an old man like him really really doesn’t deserve someone as sweet and caring and honest as you. Someone who would confess their feelings on valentines day, who would bring him a flower—nobody’s ever gotten him flowers before—who would stay up late to listen to his old stories, and continue to sit there with him when he got quiet as the memories got too painful.

He just can’t say that. Because he’s too old for you, and it’s not allowed, and he’s too much of a chicken. And you look so beautiful, hair matted to your head, a couple strands sticking to your face as you yell over the rain. So he does the only thing he’s thinking about right now, grabs you by the waist and pulls you in.

You stiffen for a second, hands coming up to his pecs, and he thinks you’re going to push him away, yell at him some more. He thinks that this is all he’ll ever get of you, but then you’re melting against his, pulling him closer, as your lips start to move against his.

Your lips are red and swollen when you break apart, and he can’t tell if the wetness is from the rain or his spit. He rests his forehead against yours, winds his arm around you.

“‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” he whispers, hoping that he’ll never have to let you go again.

#ask #valentines asks #john price x reader #price x reader #we love old man price #god im so in the mood to hurt u guys #dw all the other prompts were rly cute and happy (and a lil more slutty)

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youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms · 7 months

Text

Cross-legged In The Dim Light They Say, "What A Sad Sight,"

Words: 1084

Warnings: language, regret, Chris being a dick lowk, insecurities, maybe ooc Chris and probably bad writing

Resident Evil Masterlist Main Masterlist Join My Taglist

Chris is PROBABLY OOC (as I suck at not being able to keep them from being OOC)

Was nearly named "Does Your Husband Know The Way That The Sunshine Gleams From Your Wedding Band?"

Chris and Reader have been together since like 2003, married since 2005 (so obv 2010)

Not Proof-read and I think it can be seen every once and a while (I know you can see where my brain couldn't function how to write the scene so I just guessed and hoped for the best)

Loosely has themes from the songs "right where you left me" by Taylor Swift, "Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet" by Fall Out Boy

Anywho, enjoy

Love Z <3

She sat at the table, waiting for him to show. She had been there for an hour already. He was late. Again. Of course, she knew that she shouldn't have gotten her hopes up. Afterall, it was Chris. And with Chris work always came first. Even over his relationships.

Even if it was his 5 year wedding anniversary. Even if he had promised to show. Promised that he wouldn't flake. He always did.

Work always came before anything.

She sighed, she knew what the people around her were thinking. What the workers were saying when they knew she wouldn't be able to hear. This wasn't the first time he had flaked at this restaurant. Leaving her stranded and by herself.

She looked down at her wedding band, noticing the way that it reflected in the lighting. She ran a hand through her hair before looking at her phone, seeing if there was any update from him or someone else at the BSAA. But there was nothing but radio silence. Her previous texts continue to be unanswered.

"Are you ready to order, miss?"

She gave a tightlipped smile to the server, "Just give me a few minutes. I'm waiting for my husband to show."

"Very well, I'll come back in a few minutes to see if he's shown."

Y/N nodded, she could sense the pity that was laced in the server's voice. She did nothing as she watched them walk away. God, she felt so pathetic. It was ridiculous to think he'd show. They got Jill back a year ago and he was so involved in making sure she was healing properly. Caused him to miss all kinds of dates.

Her birthday, Claire's birthday, Christmas, their anniversary last year, and now their anniversary this year! All things that he never missed before. She watched as time passed on her small watch. Watched as he still didn't show.

So when the server came back, Y/N gave them a small smile before asking for something to go. That she guessed something tied him up so she'll just take it home to him. They nodded and took her order.

God, she just felt even more pathetic.

She just wanted to go home and go to sleep at this point. Go home and forget this entire night. Forget and pretend she never heard the workers whisper about what a sad sight this was. She just wanted to go home and pray that her husband had been called away and he was unable to tell her.

--------

She silently opened the door to her their place. She was mentally tired. All that she wanted to do was curl up and cry. She felt pathetic. But why wouldn’t she? Chris bailed. No text. No call. No warning.

He did what he always did when work called.

But she knew that she couldn’t be angry. She never could be. Not at him. She knew he really had no choice. He was their golden boy. They needed him. Needed him more than they needed her. She sighed as she placed the bag of food on the table. It was ridiculous. Truly it was.

She silently walked back to the bedroom, wanting to get out of these clothes that felt like they were constricting her. She felt ridiculous. Ridiculous for thinking he would be able to make it. For even agreeing to his plan. Her hands had a small shake to them as she unzipped the back of the dress. She wondered why she even bothered anymore. Why she ever believed that he would be there.

She carefully removed her undergarments, not wanting to toss them in the bin, she left them with the dress on a pile on the floor before grabbing pajamas to change into. Once the clothes were over her body, she carefully removed all of her jewelry, ignoring the jingling keys and the click of the front door unlocking again. She just wanted to get some sleep at this point. Forget this night ever happened.

When she reached her wedding ring, she stared at it. Did he even love her anymore? Everything felt like a never ending battle for him to remember she was there. That she was right there. She shook her head as she removed the ring. She didn’t want to think about that.

“Y/N?” She glanced over to his body in the doorway, “What’re you just now getting undressed for? It’s nearly 11 at night. You’re usually in bed by now when you’re off.” He came over to wrap his arms around her waist, but she pushed him off her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “Nothin’.”

“That’s a lie darling.” He reached out to her, “What’s wrong?”

She ignored his question as she walked into the bathroom. “There’s food from Jerry’s on the table.”

“Yeah. I saw. Why’d you go there for food?”

She tossed a washcloth in the sink and turned the water on. “We had a reservation for 8, remember?”

She heard the sharp intake of air he took when the words left her mouth. “Fuck.” The sound of his feet were heard as he walked in the bathroom. She saw the look of guilt over his face when she saw his reflection in the mirror. “Was that today?” She could hear in his voice that he already knew the answer.

So she gave a simple nod. “But it’s fine. Used to it by now. Tipped the server really good for having to put up with me waiting for so long.”

“I’m so sorry, I totally forgot we had a date planned for tonight.”

She shrugged, “Don’ care.” She grabbed her bottle of sleeping pills and popped one into her mouth before swallowing it. “Just wanna know if you even know why we had it.” When he stayed silent, she pushed past him and to the bed, collapsing onto it as she already felt the sleep taking over her. She yawned, “5 years strong now.” She grabbed her pillow and held it, just like she had done many nights when she was alone. “But I get it, work is important. I’ll let you finish whatever paperwork you have. See you in the morning.”

“Y/N--” He had started, but he knew it was too late. Sleep had already overtaken her body. He mentally cursed at himself as he looked up at the ceiling. How could he have been so stupid and forgotten?

What could he do to get her to forgive him?

#chris #redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield imagine #chris redfield angst #resident #evil #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagine #resident evil angst #x reader #imagine #angst

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silentt-angel · 4 months

Text

the colours of my love

Summary: Sirius is writing Remus goodbye letters from Azkaban.

Black.

Everything always starts with darkness, so it seems only right for me to start here.

Whether it was because of the divine intervention of some powerful being, whether our bodies were shaped from clay or from Adam’s rib, or from something different altogether; whether it all started from a powerful explosion and chaos— it started with darkness, and from the darkness, there emerged a light.

Just like the world, we came from darkness. It was only later that we grasped what light was. I guess you could say that everyone does. But our darkness was different. I think that’s part of why it was easier for us to bond than for the others. Why we were drawn to each other so much. Like calls to like.

James didn’t understand the darkness that we came from. I’m glad he didn’t; I’m sorry you did. Our burdens were different in every way, but nobody understands someone who’s in pain, like another suffering person. You are one of the strongest people I know, Moony. I’ll never stop admiring your bravery. You took the hand life dealt you and made the most of each card.

Life is a cycle, and things often end the same way they began. Soon, my life will end in black – the last thing I’ll see will be the grimy hood of a Dementor. I’ll let it steal away the happy memories I’ve been clinging on to. I don’t deserve to have them; I deserve to rot and decay without any hope or happiness or love in my foul heart. James and Lily will never get to feel those things again. And it’s all because of me. I betrayed my best friends. I failed them when it mattered the most.

I hate the thought of my memories disappearing without a trace. I want to be selfish and tell you all the things I never got the chance to say. Even if my words won’t reach you, I want to free them from my heart. There won’t be anyone around to mourn me, so allow me to mourn our love. Allow me to pity myself. Allow me to succumb to the will of the weak man I am. I don’t want you to ever think I never cared about you, about Lily and James and Harry, when I would trade my life for all of yours in a heartbeat. Merlin, do I wish I could strike that deal with someone. Anyone.

I'm sorry that I left you all alone, Remus, even though I promised you so many times that I wouldn’t. I’m sorry that I destroyed everything. I’m sorry that I ruined so many futures. I’m sorry that I wasn’t who you needed me to be. I thought I could be better for you, but I couldn’t. I’m sorry I disappointed you. Believe me, it hurts me so much to know that you won’t ever want me by your side anymore.

I’ve replayed that conversation with James so many times. I killed James and Lily.

You don’t deserve a killer.

I know how much you must hate me now. It’s a just punishment for what I did. Nothing could hurt me more, and I deserve every bit of this pain.

As I sit in my cell, awaiting death, I hope only that you will find light in the dark.

The only thing that has been keeping me sane is replaying my memories of you in my head. I will never cease to be grateful to James for noticing you on that first day at Hogwarts and asking you to bunk with us. I’m grateful for him noticing me – taking me under his wing. I remember feeling so nervous to talk to you for the first time. I had never felt anything like it before. Sirius Black didn’t get nervous. And yet, when I looked at you, there was a knot in my stomach. I had always prided myself on not caring what other students thought of me. But you? I was so desperate for you to like me. I tried so hard, and I’m sure you could tell.

We would have found our way to each other sooner or later regardless, but I’m glad I could be your friend from the very start. I’m glad we could have at least eleven wonderful years together. They were the best years of my life.

I would trade everything I have left for one minute with you – for a proper goodbye. I haven’t had enough of you yet. I want more so desperately, I’d dig my way all the way to you with my bare hands if I could.

I’ll never forget what it was like to see the polished black wheels of the Hogwarts Express for the first time. I owe so much to that bloody train. It was an escape for both of us. We found our home because of it. Moony, Padfoot, Prongs and Wormtail – four perfect friends for life. Or so we thought.

You and James became my family. Our beginning was pure and innocent in that special way that every childhood friendship is. It became so much more, though. You two were there for me through every hardship and every high. You truly wasted your good on me.

I remember being huddled over a cauldron with James during one of our first potions lessons in the first year. We were bickering about something so loudly that the professor moved me next to you. I made a fuss of being upset about it, but secretly I was glad to be able to sit with you. It also turned out you were a lot better at potions than James (he really didn’t inherit his father’s gift). From then on, you were my potions partner until the very last lesson.

Before you, the only colour filling my pages was black. You truly did live up to your name, Moony; you lit up my sky. You made me stop thinking about the dark, like something terrible and scary, but instead as what comes before something great.

I never expected me to end up being the sappy one. I guess that’s what love does to a guy. And I guess many, much more unexpected things have happened to us.

At it's very core, my love came from the darkness. I coddled my fragile heart in the dark and hid it deep inside me my whole life. Years passed before I let you unravel my defences with your slender hands and soft words. But my love for you was never just that. I was never just black. You brought so much colour into my life.

So, Remus, let me guide you through the colours of my love.

#wolfstar #wolfstar fic #angst #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #wolfstar angst #headcanon #ao3 #fanfiction #sirius in azkaban

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yonemurishiroku · 1 year

Note

Could u go more into how Nico would be the villain in relation to this ask https://www.tumblr.com/yonemurishiroku/716941674120724480/jason-had-a-rendezvous-with-percy-before-his

I’m deeply fascinated by what u seem like o be implying

JAAksda pal you have no idea how much this ask delights me. Finally, a chance for me to ramble.

Ok. So.

The idea of this story is that Jason and Percy have a daughter before Jason dies, and years later, the girl embarks on a quest to find her other father. Why, you ask? Idk LMAO I just need her to do that so that I can put Nico in it.

Before that, though, I just want to make it clear that - imo, an antagonist doesn't have to be a villain. Generally, an antagonist is anyone whose goal(s) contradicts to those of the protagonist(s) - regardless of who is the right one. This is more common in seinen mangas (where the characters tread the line of good and bad as if it doesn't exist), though I guess it might be new/rare in mainstream children entertainment (?).

Anyway. So. Where does Nico fit into all of this?

As explained, if it's up to me, I want Nico to be the one hindering Jason and Percy's daughter on this quest to find her father. He's the antagonist because he does not wish the girl to reach Jason himself.

This sounds ridiculous, I know, I know. I have my fair share of saving/resurrecting-Jason!AU as well, but this AU though. Just hear me out.

My peculiar (and uncomprehensible) interest aside, Nico lost both his mother and his sister (sisters if you count Hazel, and you should, rlly) to the gods, and a large portion of his story is about how he overcomes said lost, especially Bianca. Half of his story is grief personified. He understands most what grief feels like and how disastrous it can be.

Seriously, you would think Nico would emphathise the most to Jercy's daughter (now named Dora bc I just found anon's latest ask ajsdhkja) - especially considering Jason mattered a lot to him, too.

But the thing is, Nico has learnt how to let go.

And how important it is to let go.

That's the whole thing, really.

Nico knows the horrible things grief can do to its bearer. He experienced it himself. It's love, and mayhaps pity, in a way, that Nico wishes Dora to move on from a father she has never known, just so she wouldn't end up lost like he has done so many years ago.

Moreover, since this AU is set in a future timeline and I always picture Nico as a die-hard follower/ lovechild of the Underworld, Nico - like Hades - wouldn't wish a demigod to come trashing their land for a deceased loved one. It's against the law - and to hell with it if I'm not making Nico Hades' executor or law enforcer.

So, Nico has every rights and reason to stop Dora.

That's what Nico would tell Dora for you.

I, the personification of madness I am, would like to add a hidden motivation, though. I don't know what it's called, but I suppose it's Nico's coping mechanism and in a way, jealousy. To Dora, that is.

In TOA, Nico didn't even try to summon Jason for a closure (no thanks to you, Rick). I don't like it either but let's just take this as Nico has found his own closure. He learnt how to lick his wounds and patch himself up, in which he finds relief.

How, do you think, Nico would feel to have someone come tearing that down?

Tbh this is a lot of things to unpack.

Firstly, Nico's grief for Jason - which he himself had buried deep down for his own sake - is pried open upon seeing Dora demands for her father purely out of love.

Secondly, Nico's feelings of incapability when he failed to savage Jason's lif - now resurfaces full force with how Dora (supposedly) fights for her father. And the jealousy accompanying it.

Are you with me? I'm talking about that feeling when you realize that, though a slim chance, there might have been hope after all - but you let it slip away because you're just incapable. It's all your fault.

And now, when another has come to seize that chance, claiming the hope you've forsaken as savable, you just don't want to admit it. You want to prove it to be futile, just so you don't have to live with the self-blames.

Ok, that concludes the motivation. As of How Nico as the antagonist would be like, ngl I have a bunch of ideas and none of them makes sense LMAO. Though, if there's anything I want to cement, it's that 1/ Nico has no direct ill-intent towards the daughter; and by that I mean 2/ he's a terrifying enemy anyway.

The first one because obviously. Nico isn't a bad person. Different goals, that's for sure, but he means Dora no harm. Nico just wants Dora to let go of Jason and get the idea of resurrection out of her head.

Also she's literally Percy's child and idk maybe Hazel's, Piper's, Annabeth's god-daughter. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ Hazel would skin Nico alive if he hurts the girl more than necessary. 💀

The second one is more fascinating (at least, in my mind, lmao). There're actually so much to this:

Strenght-wise, Nico di Angelo is terrifying.

That's canon and there's nothing that could change it. I mean. Literally. Son of Hades. Prince of the Underworld. Hades' nepotism. The Underworld at his beck and call. He himself is a resilient and powerful demigod borderlining on deity. I've talk too much about this. Srsly What's more would you need?

Sure Jason and Percy's child have her own disastrous powers (being the child of both heaven and sea does that to you), but Nico has one thing Dora can never match: experiences. Percy, the greatest swordmen of their generation, can teach his daughter every move. But Nico has his own set of skills honed through years of just being a son of Hades with a bunch of dead heroes. And that's without the at least 10-12 years generation gap between him and a legacy. Nico has his advantages.

And he doesn't hesitate to use them.

Plot-wise, Nico has many ways to affect Dora.

The first is that Nico understands Dora's motivation. Too much.

As I've mentioned, Nico is the first one who understands what it feels like to lose a family member to the divine forces. He also lost his memories of his mother, Maria, which makes his situation a littlle more similar to Doras's than necessary. He understands Dora's reason, her wishes and her drive.

And it's so much easier to predict one's movements when you know where they're heading, what drives them forward.

Another thing is their family tree. Basically: Nico is a friend of Percy's and even a closer friend of Jason's, which presumably enables him to watch their child closely, thus see through them easily.

Do you know how difficult it would be to fight someone who has been watching you grow up, knowing your weaknesses, your limits, remembering things about you that you yourself can't recall? Nico knows even Jason, the father Dora has never known yet could kill to meet.

And what's more is that all of these^^^ just so happens to align oh so perfectly to Nico's manipulativeness. Really, this just feels unfair lmao.

See. This is why I adore Nico as the antagonist, especially in the specific AU. Nico has all the potentials of a formidable enemy to Jason and Percy's daughter, and I haven't even moved to the part about what Nico-Percy&Jason dynamic can provide.

Because Nico's still basically their family's friend, as long as he doesn't go overboard with Dora, he can just... literally come to their dinner, for example, and act as if he wasn't threatening Dora and his presence is his own warning to her.

Dora could walk out of her room and see Nico sitting there, amongst other guests of the gathering, in her house. His eyes find her efforlessly and pin her to the wall just as easily. When he voices his disapproval of Dora's intentions, he doesn't even flinch under Percy's harsh interference. In fact, Nico and Percy proceed to have a near-brawl across the dining table over Jason Grace, and then Bianca di Angelo, and then Jason Grace again. Dora has never seen her father that furious and it scares her. Dora has never seen anyone capable of being so calm, so cold in front of his angry father, and this Nico scares her, too. It's Aunt Thalia who ultimately brakes them off, with the help of Hazel and Annabeth. Before Nico leaves, though, he looks straight into Dora's eyes, and just his hardened gaze promises millions of challanges waiting for her on the way to her father. And challenge her he did. Nico has all the connections he needs to hold Dora down until she gives up, and he plans to use them all up if he has to. Percy doesn't like the Underworld. Dora has never understood it when Aunt Hazel is so nice, so kind to her or everyone. She sees it now - in many horrific creatures Nico has sicced on her and in his sad, sad eyes and his cold, cold voice. Nico comes to her after each challenge - never one to hide his intentions of sabotaging, sick check-ins to see if Dora's will has crumbled. He tells her to give up, Would Jason want this?, that You'd think I have tried before, and You are not the only one who loves him so much. He coaxes and he threatens just as much. Years of being an ambassador and dealing with whining ghosts makes him excellent at pursuing. Each and every time, his words weigh more on Dora's childishly mind. The Underworld sips away her strengh and Nico's quiet heavy voice draggs her down, down, down...

You might be wondering where the adults are.

Percy, her father, has always grown tense when it comes to one Nico di Angelo. He would fight for the love of his life, though. And yet, Jason has always been close to Nico's heart. Not as close as Percy's, but Nico makes it up with love to spare. Aunt Thalia seems just as eager to bring Jason back as Dora and Percy. Nico fights her just as fiercely, if not even more. They have their own problems to deal with. "You don't get to abandon your brother twice and then demand him return!"

Hazel, Will and Reyna are the only ones who hold a slim chance of changing Nico's mind as they're the only ones close enough, yet that's also what makes them emphathise with him more than Dora would like. They'd help Dora if she needs, but they wouldn't interfere when it all comes down to it. In fact, Hazel tried, once - only because she was resurrected by Nico - and it ended up angering Nico further. No one wants a repeat of that. Leo help Dora tremendously, and Nico asks him "Making up for all those months you were warming it up with your girlfriend whilst he was searching the world for you?" Piper and Apollo try their best, until Nico looks at them with a resentment that makes his shoulders tremble and his laugh burst out maniacally, "Did you forget it was your lives that Jason traded his own for?" The revelation left Dora reeling.

Srsly this AU is just a pure delight.

Anw, if I were to write this, I honestly wouldn't know how to put an end to the story.

I mean, I love Antagonist!Nico. I also want Jason to meet his daughter, but I know that you're not allowed to meet dead loved ones lest you stray further from life. I also don't have any morals when it comes to fictionals.

So like. Who do I want to win? I honestly don't know lmao.

But I want Dora to defeat Nico.

Mainly because I find it a spectacular sight when Nico falls on his knees and confessing his petty motivation - that of the jealousy and insecurities blah blah I've mentioned above - whilst letting out every ounce of grief turned malice he has been forcing down since Jason's death.

And Dora's love for her father would triumph them all. And hopefully, she can save both - in a way I have yet to thought of bc all I want is antagonist!Nico lmao.

Anywayyyyyyy this is such a delight to write all of this down when I have at least 5 fanfics sitting in the drafts LOL AJsKHDAKSdh THANKS A LOT FOR THE CHANCE. 🥺🥺🥺 I'm so glad I can share my Antagonist!Nico agenda and someone's willing to listen lmao i thought i was the only one.

Hope you enjoy!

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vinetae · 1 year

Note

You have promised that you will upload full circle series at the end of December please upload it soon

Finally done! So sorry for the wait, guys.. At first I had been really sick for around two weeks, the Christmas came around the corner like that, and now my cat has a UTI 😔

I had MAJOR writer's block with this chapter, so I hope it's not terrible. This had been in my drafts for over 2 weeks 👀

I hope you enjoy it! (Does have a lil smut and oop- Jimin's got a lil addiction to something. Can you guess what? Lmfao.)

____________________________________________________________

Chapter 2: Addictions

Pairings: Jimin x Pregnant Reader

Genre: Pregnancy!AU, Unexpected Pregnancy, Angst, SMUT SMUT SMUT, Sperm Donor mishaps

W.C: 6.3k

Summary: Y/n's now a little further in her trimester and acceptance of her situation. While Jimin on the other hand...

Not so much..

How will they both find a way to cope through this new way of life?

Chapter 3

Chapter 1

______________________________________________________________

This was it.

He had a feeling about it. He knew you’d find out eventually. The dates had just added up too much to be a coincidence.

You were carrying his child.

The thought stuns him each time it crosses his mind. The fact that his child, your child is his own. He’s the father, and he barely even knows you. Sure, he’s hung around you in the past a few times but it had always been short lived from Namjoon’s early and late arrivals. When he got time, you’d scoot further away from Jimin, giving him a small jab in the heart at the cold gesture.

The door creaks open, noticing how you’re just sitting down in the chair across from the doctor’s desk. Your hair pulled into a loose ponytail. The flow of your dress had been graciously splaying across the skin of your thighs. He takes in a deep breath, before revealing him fully.

“Jimin, did you not feel like waiting outside anymore?” You flash him an adorable smile, which makes his heart pang with sadness. Will you hate him for this? Will you leave and never let him see your child? Can you file for sexual assault?

All of the questions are simmered by the doctor’s short commentary.

“We’re actually waiting for someone, sir. If you’d like to wait outside for a little while longer-”

They weren’t going to believe this. He sighs, pulling his phone from the hidden pockets of his jeans, dialing the last number in his unknown contacts. The doctor quickly picks up the hand held phone that sat on her desk before answering.

“Hello?”

The simple word was all the confirmation that doctor Lee needed. She sets the line down before offering Jimin to take a seat.

Your glimmering eyes set on his. “Why’d she call you, Jimin? How do you even have her number?” This was torture. He couldn’t stand this. The pain, regret, and everything else you’ll feel will be all his fault.

“Well, shall we get started?” You tilt your head to the side. Confusion paints your expressions.

“Aren’t we waiting for the donor?” Your voice is so sweet, so innocent. Like a spoonful of smooth honey coating a sore throat for a great relief. His eyes land on your straight figure. Hands rest in the crease of your thighs, while your ankles cross at the joints. Before Jimin could say anything, the doctor speaks.

“Donor 519, Park Jimin.”

Your body freezes up. His eyes glisten with a certain gleam. Worry? Maybe some even pity in his saddened chocolate irises. Your heart races from the new information.

This can’t be happening..

There’s no way Jimin’s the-

“Mr. Park came in on the 12th of last December. Two supplements had been provided, totaling his earnings to 300,000 Korean won.” Your eyes fall back between the two. Jimin had sat in silence, focusing his sights on the papers he’d been skimming over.

“So, since the two parties already have been in contact before, have you discussed a plan for when the child arrives?” Your eyes are both set on each other. An awkward silence falls upon the room.

“If not, Mr, Park; you’re legally obligated to sign over all permissions to miss Y/n.”

Jimin’s fist clenched, as his eyes darken in his gaze. “And what will you be doing about this mess up, hmm? Last time I checked, it’s not exactly an accepted practice to accidentally inseminate the wrong patient.”

Doctor Lee’s eyes widened at his words. The lump in her throat visible to anyone who’d take a look. She pulls at the tight of his button up collar, loosening the fabric to get pressure off her windpipe. Your hand comes to rest on Jimin. His gaze immediately softens when looking at you.

“We can figure out the logistics of this later. What about the couple who’d originally planned for the procedure?” She quickly starts clicking the keys on her keyboard, until she turns the screen to face the two of you.

“The couple is already scheduled to get the right procedure taken care of on Monday morning. You two have nothing legally to do with them, so need for no introductions.” You nod, watching as the little vein in Jimin’s neck starts throbbing.

This was going to be a difficult conversation indeed…

The door clicks shut as you lean up against it’s hard surface. Jimin follows soon after, as you both avoid eye contact with each other. The TV’s bright lights switch off, as Namjoon rises from his seat on the couch he’d been laying on while watching the first few episodes of Love Island.

You sigh, shuffling your way over to the stocked kitchen, rumbling through his goodies of sweets before settling on a bag of salt and vinegar chips. Jimin trudges over, plopping down onto the couch next to Joonie, sporting an exhausted expression.

“Jesus you two. Did someone die?” Namjoon walks over, taking a few chips from the bag held in your hands. Quickly, you slap his hand away before he has time to grab a second round. You flash him a pissed look which tells him to back the fuck off.

“No. No one died, hyung.” Jimin finally responds, making his way over to the kitchen, pulling out a cold beer before plopping down onto the barstool adjacent to the two of you. Namjoon’s gaze switches between the two of you, a questioning look arises.

“Then what’s the matter?” His eyes go wide at the crazy thoughts filling his head. His hands quickly reach down to cradle your small bump.

“Is something wrong with the baby!?” You shake your head before removing his hands from your lower stomach, pressing the palm of yours to his cheek to calm him down.

“Everything with the baby’s fine, Joonie. It was perfectly healthy. Here-” You reach into the small of your pocket, pulling out the little sonogram the doctor had taken of your child a few hours before. You place the small piece of precious paper in Namjoon’s hand. His smile beams like rays from the sun as he examines the thin sheet.

“Wow..” Is all he responds with.

You clear your throat, leaning back into your chair to finish the remains of your meal. Once you’re through, you stand up to clean your mess and head to the bathroom to ready yourself for bedtime.

The tinted night falls heavy upon the apartment’s lack of lighting. The moon’s bright rays peek through the thin curtains that flow from the A/C’s cooling winds. Namjoon had offered for you to spend the night since you and Jimin had gotten back super late. Offering his bed to you, you quickly refused, commenting that you’d much rather take the couch instead. You’ve slept on it before.

Why would this time be any different?

Took him for about EVER to finally give in to your stubbornness, but he’d had a long day at work. So, in the end you’d won. Which led you to sleeping on the black faux leather sectional in the large apartment complex.

Tossing and turning, your mind wanders to scenes from the hours before.

“Donor 519, Park Jimin.”

You groan, rubbing your face out of agony. Ever since walking out of the OBG/YN Office, your head hasn't stopped pounding. It felt as if a million tiny monkeys with anvils were bouncing on a bed. Your flip over, huffing from frustration.

You weren’t going to sleep anytime soon.

Sighing, you untangle yourself from the wrapped sheets you’d encased yourself in, walking to grab a glass of water. As you're chugging the liquid, your headache has subdued a bit. The loud being from the front door had alerted your hazy senses. A tall dark shadow messily walks into the doorway before shutting the door behind himself. He ruffles his hair while making his way to the kitchen cabinets. Rummaging through the shelves, he huffs before breaking the seal of a new chip bag. You turn to face you a few seconds later, his reddened eyes widen at you. A smile plasters his features as he stumbles over to embrace you in a tight hug.

“Y/n! You’re here!!” You cover his mouth, trying to pry his heavy weight from you. “I’m here, Jimin. Fuck-” You push him back, feeling bile creep up the backs of your throat. You cover your nostrils to not projectile vomit all over the place.

“You reek of alcohol. What the hell happened??” He pouts before laughing maniacally. He fumbles over to a stool at the bar before plopping down with his bag of chips and a new bottle of soju.

“I went out and I was g-gonna buuy some fings for ma room but I thought about our baby! So I went-” He hiccups, banging his head on the counter.

“Fuuuck. Is is loud in here? It’s so fucking loud..” You sit down next to him, rubbing the curves of his back.

“You’re drunk, Jimin. Come on, let’s go get you into bed.” He whines as you help in rise to his feet before he collapses, falling to the floor while pulling your weight down with his. He laughs loudly at the silly position, as you’re trying to pick his heavy form up off the floor.

“Jimin get uuup! You can’t sleep here” He whines, kicking his feet like a toddler pitching a tantrum. After a few more tries you sigh before swinging him around to drag him by his feet.

“Weeee! This is so fuuunnn! We should d-do this more often, Y/n!” He laughs like a crazy person, as you reach the entry of his room. His navy blue silk button down had ridden up, revealing the toned dips of his stomach. You swallow quickly before helping him onto the flat sheets of his bed.

“Stay here, I’ll get you a trash can.” He smirks before tackling your figure, pinning you against the his bed.

“I’ve got a better idea~” His jet-black locks fall softly into your field of vision before the pads of his lips press gently kisses to your cheek. You groan, trying to push his weight off of you, but it has been no use. He was way too strong, and you had already been worn out physically.

“Mmmm that’s so hot.” He moans, while the palms of his hands travel up to squeeze one of your breasts in his hand while the other pulls the hem of your over-sized -well, Namjoon’s oversized tee- to sit on your ribcage.

“Jimin, stop. Get off me” His motions never stop. With each soft, angelic kiss had been paired with his naughty, devilish hands coming to explore the plains of your figure. Honestly, it had been so long since you felt any kind of touch. Even if he was drunk, would it really be that bad? He’s really fucking hot and it’d be awesome to loose your virginity to a God-like statue as attractive as this man was-

“GET OFF HER BEFORE I BEAT YOU TO A PULP.” Namjoon’s loud yells pull you from your lust-driven thoughts. You’d never been this horny before..

Namjoon immediately pulls Jimin off you as he lets out a pouty groan.

“No fucking way I’m letting you fuck my best friend too, Jimin!” Namjoon pulls you into a tight embrace, as he rushes you out before Jimin could make any kind of move. Once you’re both back into the safety of Namjoon’s bedroom, he locks the door before joining you on his bed.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. I didn’t know that he had gone out drinking. He usually never gets this bad..” You look down to the floor, not wanting to admit that you’d been at fault for not stopping it either.

“God, I promise you he’s never done anything like that.. This is so embarrassing.” He rubs his face harshly, hiding his shame between the cups of his hands. A big, frustrated sigh washes over his body.

“He’s just- He’s being really weird lately. I don’t know why but it’s like he’s-”

“Jimin’s the father.” You blurt out.

His head whips around to face yours, his eyes blown out like cartoon characters. His jaw practically drops to the floor.

“H-He’s the- You and he-”

“No. But… He was the donor. There were two Park Jimins and they mixed up the batches I guess. But we didn’t sleep together so..”

“Wait, so let me get this straight.” He twists his body to face yours, holding out his hands to make sense of it all.

“The doctors mixed up the products.”

You nod.

“And.. there were TWO Park Jimins..”

Nod.

“And.. My female best friend’s baby daddy is my roommate.”

You chuckle nervously. “You’re on a roll, Joonie.”

“But.. you two didn’t sleep together?”

You nod again.

“But that still doesn’t answer on why he’s drunk as fuck right now.” You stand to meet him, locking your sights to his chocolatey irises before letting out a sigh.

“He told me that he went to the store to get some things for his room, but then started to think about the baby.. Well, his baby.” Namjoon’s eyebrows knit together in your tone. You put your hands up in defense. “Hey, his words are not mine! Anyways- So I guess he tried drinking to understand it all..”

Namjoon plops back down onto the edge of his bed spread. “This is so fucked up..” You nod before laying back on his bed, arms spread wide apart from each other. He soon joins, as you both stare up at the ceiling trying to contemplate everything.

A few minutes of silence goes by before he asks.

“So, what are you gonna do?”

You sigh, slowly turning your head to lay on its side while admiring his prominent features. You flip on your side, cuddling up to his arm. He scoots closer, slinging his opposite arm around your lazed figure. Both of your breathing patterns slowly come in alliance.

“I don’t know.”

The living room had only one patterned sound echoing through the background.

The droning noise of boring daytime television.

You’d decided to sit back for the day and enjoy the peace and quiet of Namjoon’s apartment. He’d left a while ago to meet with some architect for a piece he wanted to buy to add to his collection. He’d always loved collecting special items. Mainly abstract or unusual pieces to match his unique style himself. You’d started on cleaning around the rooms, but quickly had ran out of breath. So now, here you lay spread out on the gray sectional in his living room. Your chest rises and falls in a patterned way, breathing in the peace and tranquility.

Until a quiet door had latched itself close.

You sit up, seeing a ruffled haired Jimin stumbling his way out of his door to the kitchen. A bumble of silence buzzes over the room, before you decide to lay back down, not wanting to get into what had happened the night before, right now. You were too tired to even barely stand. My feet ached already, a migraine had been teasing you on and off repeatedly for around 7 hours now. It had started dully in the middle of the night. You had sat up to ask Namjoon if he had any pain medications, but his snores signaled to you that he’d been far to gone for any sort of communication.

That’s when you’d met Jimin in the kitchen, early in the wee hours of the morning. He’d been following a recipe on his lit up phone screen, while watching a small pot of soup boil on the stove surface. He’d been leaning against the counter, bending forward to brace himself on the edge. It had been a few minutes before he finally took notice of you. You quietly made your way past his body, reaching up to search the cabinets. He turns to face you, while his sights are still set on the boiling pot of stew.

“Looking for something?” He finally responds, breaking the silence. You sigh, nodding.

“I’ve got a headache..” He hums softly before sliding a little bottle of pills over your way, taking a taste of his stew as his face contorts into a grimace at the taste.

“Thanks.” You walk away after popping one of the capsules in our mouth.

Jimin plops down onto the couch next to you, glancing to look at your overheated body sprawled out on the couch. He takes a sip of the bottle he’d been nursing for the past hour or so. His eyes travel up the length of your elongated legs. Each curve and dip had been like candy tempting a little kid.

The way your silk pink pajama shorts had been riding up the round of your peeking cheeks had something inside him begging to get a taste. Your worried tone pulls him from his daydreams. He watches as you arise from the sunken couch, reaching upwards to crack your back. The thin, silky material of your button down pajama shirt lifts slightly to reveal the tiny protruding bump.

A smile creeps his face without knowing. He watches you rub the sides of your temples before plopping back down. A mumbled curse leaves your lips.

“Shit-” He’s quick to reach out, helping you keep your balance so you won’t fall over. You turn back, as he flashes you a worried expression, as it’s soon turned into a soft smile. His smile fades as you ignore his gesture.

“Y/n..” He starts, trying to get into your view of sight. Moving all around your vision while your eyes are fakely glued to the TV.

“Y/n.. I’m sorry.” He sighs, giving up trying to get your attention. At that, your head cranes to the side, giving him a soft glance. “I was really drunk and.. I never should have- touched you. At all.” You let out a gentle huff before fixing your attention back onto the droning television. He still continues.

“I was just- it was so much to grasp, you know? I’m just.. Scared. I guess.” He chuckles, tipping his bottle up to take another sip. Your hand’s quicker as it reaches out, stopping him from drinking another drop.

“At least stop the day drinking, Jimin.” He hesitates, but soon allows you to take the bottle away from him. You place it on the side of the coffee table, watching as his face contorts into a withdrawn expression.

“You’re right..” He chuckles at the thought. “If I’m going to be a dad, I guess I have to act it.. Right?” His small smile fades while watching you give him no sort of reaction.

“I’m really sorry about last night, Y/n. I've never done anything like that, I swear..” You nod, surfing through the channels to browse. His hand reaches out to yours, cupping your small fingers between his large palms. A saddened expression paints his face. Yours soon follows to match. You felt bad for him. He didn’t ask for this…

Any of it.

Your thoughts start sending you down a rabbit hole of possible outcomes of this.

Number one: You could give birth, live a happy life..

But that means stealing his own.

Option two: Forget all of this, and put it behind you. Get rid of all of it. Move away to another country, and leave your past behind.

It’s not like getting pregnant was in your life plans anyways.

“Y/n?”

Jimin’s soft tone pulls you from your detriment of spiraling thoughts. Your eyes focus back on the gentle features of his face. His thick, blackened sharp eyebrows knit together, expressing concern. His eyes glisten with a certain shimmer you’d seen so many times these past few weeks now.

Your voice is weak and strained. You’re not sure from what though..

“Jimin..” You practically whine out. You hadn’t felt the tears welled up in your eyes, a few slipping down your cheeks before landing on the flesh of your thighs. He gives you a gentle smile, placing his thumb to your cheek, wiping the dripping liquid from your reddened cheeks. Your eyes had become puffy and red from the overwhelming emotions this tiny moment had revealed. Your breath staggers in your chest. The tight, bolt-like feeling screws in the back of your throat, as you hiccup through the emotions. He coos, pulling you in a tight embrace. His other hand comes to pet your hair as you lean into his touch.

You needed some kind of comfort.

But this..

It Wasn't enough.

You needed more.

You craved more.

He presses the front of his forehead to yours, as your lips reach out to meet his. His palm slides over your dampened cheeks, fingers caressing each and every beauty mark and freckle your features displayed. The digits of his hands caress the sharpness of your jaw, tracing along the protruding bone before resting at the hairline near your cherry red ears. Every dip and crater on your skin had been the mark of perfection to him. His eyes fluttered open just to peak at your tear-dropped eyes. Squinting with every emotion you’d been feeling from these past few weeks. His heart breaks at the sight.

This was all his fault.

He never meant to hurt you like this.

His own stupid actions had led to your life ending.

You were still so young.

You had so much to live for.

So many dreams he overheard you telling Namjoon about for the past two months.

Every Time you had a night terror, he’d wanted to be the one to comfort you.

Not Namjoon.

Instead, he became the monster haunting you the most.

You feared him.

He could see that clear as day.

But he also had seen something else hiding behind your innocent, doll-like eyes.

Something he’d never even guess close to imagining lurking behind your gaze.

It was the same thing he’d been stuck with as well. The need for something that you know you shouldn’t have. The longing for that comfort from something that will destroy you in the end.

Yet,

You still run towards this thing with open arms.

You like the pain.

You like to feel broken.

Because you know,

Even if it’s bad.

It helps you to feel something.

And that’s all you need to keep crawling back to your doom.

With each passing day, you slip further and further into insanity.

Every hour feels as if it’s a million, without the help of your comfort.

You drip back into your vice like an IV bag trying to keep it’s patient alive.

Only in this sense,

It had been trying to kill you.

As this bitter-sweet tragic kiss is sealed, his mind replays all the horrible things he had done to you just some hours ago.

Touching you like that..

How warm your body had felt in his cold hands. The sweet scent of your newly purchased perfume had filled his senses more than any meal he's ever eaten. All he wanted was to show you how much you meant to him.

How much the both of you meant to him.

Instead, his own greed and selfishness led to you hating his guts even more.

As the kiss drags on, it felt like pins and needles as his hands caressed only the places he wished you would only give him access to. The fiery path he trails behind his gentle touches sends butterflies shooting into the pit of your stomach. Your soft moans grow in volume at his feathery light touches. He wished this moment could last forever.

Fuck.

He wanted you.

And damn whoever tried to get in his way.

His hands drip down to grip onto your hips, before pulling you to straddle his lap. You rise above a bit, hovering over his pelvis as to not cause him any disturbance. His moans rolls onto the tip of your tongue, pushing past all of your doubts to replace them with the images of what could be, instead.

The point of your chin is taken by his strong grip, as he leads the way in your passionate exchange of silent sentiments. His hand reaches to yours, guiding them downwards to drag along the straight plains of his chest. His forehead presses against yours, pulling away from the kiss for a second to gain oxygen which he had been more than happy to give away to you.

Then, it starts again.

The passion resumes, kisses exchanged. This time; more fiery and fierce than ever before. You both had an unspoken desire lurking behind these spirited reciprocity.

His strong, well toned arms come to lift the hem of your shirt above the dip of your belly-button, as you both admire the little pudge that had begin to show itself just in the first few weeks. You anticipate his next move, wondering what had been going on in his mind right now. Did he think you were fat? Were you ugly? Is it weird seeing that? Does it just look like you had a big lunch? Is this a turn off??

You watch as a smile tugs his lips before he flips the two of you around, until your back is pressed firmly up against the couch's. He's now sat right between the space of your thighs. The tip of his tongue peaking through his plump lips to wet the edges.

"Cute."

He smiles before bringing his lips to your lower stomach, placing tiny little pecks along your semi-rounded belly. Your eyes knit in confusion at his gesture. He glances up through batted eyelashes, flashing you a smile. Your head tilts to the side.

"You.. You don't think it's weird..?" A chuckle rolls past his lips as the hook of his index finger pulls down on the elastic of your silk pajamas. His eyes burn with an intensity so fine, it could melt through metal.

"Weird? Oh baby, " His plush lips come down to press soft kissing along the light red line that had marked your skin from your silky elastic shorts.

"Seeing you carrying my child is the hottest thing you could probably ever do." Your eyes widen at his comment. His, narrow to oppose your shocked expression. A smirk tugs the corner of his lips. You hadn't even noticed that your panties and shorts were already half-way down your legs until you felt a wet sensation press itself to your most intimate places. You grip onto the edge of the couch as a moan is forced out from the back of your throat. Your legs unconsciously part, wanting more of the unfamiliar feeling. He hums, satisfied with the response he'd received. He continues, testing your boundaries even more this time.

"Hmm, you like that? Like it when I eat your pussy out?" You watch as his features disappear from sight, as the wet sensation against your clit returns. Your moans quickly grow is size at his motions. You watch as he sticks his fingers into his mouth before inserting the smallest of his digit into your core. You reach out, gripping onto his should from the slightly painful sensation. I mean, you never really touched yourself anyways. When you had, it was no more than just your clit. Never really felt good with your fingers but-

with his ..

"Aww, I don't even have one finger in, baby. You already giving up?" You whine at his teasing, as your heads lulls back to hit the couch's backrest. You shake your head, as your breath fails to follow a certain, calmed pattern. You feel the length of his finger slide up into your core a bit, inching further inside you as his lips come to plant a soft kiss to your navel before looking back up to meet your messed gaze.

"That's my girl." He tsks, watching as your face contorts into expressions he's only dreamed of seeing. Your mouth falls open to rest at a O-shape, chest rising and falling at an uncontrollable pace. He watches with a smirk as your knuckles turn white from your gorilla-like grip onto the poor sectional's fabrics.

"What's the matter baby? Cat got your-" His thumb's quick to press circles into your throbbing bud.

"Tongue?"

Your eyes lull to the back of your head, as your thigh begins to twitch at his quick motions. You can't but help all the sinful noises that erupt from the bottom of your chest. You hadn't really had any relationships prior to meeting Jimin. You had just friend-zoned them all until you saw their true intentions. Many had just wanted in your pants, not on your friendship bracelet. It's not like you were saving it for some magical wedding night- no. You had just never really gotten the chance-

Let's not lie here: You hadn't really gotten the confidence either.

You'd always been so shy and awkward with your body. The way your parents had explained sex didn't at all help with the whole thing either.

Your body is a temple and it should be preserved and blah blah blah. You just wanted to live like everyone else and be normal for once. But, I guess the universe had other plans for you.

He grips your legs, motioning for you to wrap them around his shoulders as his mouth dips down to lick stripes up along the center of your core. You moan out, accidentally tensing up your thighs which in turn makes his moans drown out your own.

"Oh my god" He groans while sucking on your throbbing clit.

"Oh my goddd" You moan out as your leg starts uncontrollably shaking from the pleasure.

"OH MY GOD-" A new voice echoes through the hallways. Your head quickly does a 160-ish, watching as the bags Namjoon had been holding, fall to the ground. The milk busting open as it starts to leak on the floor. Your eyes go wide at his sudden entrance.

Shit.

______________________________________________________________

AHAHAHAHAHAHA ANYBODY SENSING A THREESOME HERE?!?!?!?!??!

I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I did while writing it!! I kept getting writer's block for WEEKS and then all of a sudden this idea popped into my head when i was cleaning. I did have to delete like 13 pages of nonsense before this so 😔

#iBTS jimin fic #bts jimin #bts fics #jimin x reader #pregnancy!au #bts pregnancy au #bts masterlist #jimin smut #jimin angst #park jimin smut #angst #and more angst #park jimin #pjm #Full circle

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