#the cursed child is CURSED and i cannot stress that enough

[silkscream]

once bitten, twice shy

megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ wc: 3.1k (i cannot write anything under 2k to save my life)

ੈ✩ tags: emotionally constipated megumi, tsundere basically, friends to lovers, a lil angst, not actually unrequited love, pining, alcohol, typical yuuji nobara antics

ੈ✩ a/n: this is not xmas themed despite the title BUT it does end up taking place on satoru's birthday for plot reasons. megumi fushiguro your intimacy issues bewitch me mind body and soul.....

megumi does not know what to do with his feelings.

he’s never been the type to be particularly in touch with them — he didn’t remember his parents enough to blame them for whatever avoidant attachment he’d accustomed himself to. or maybe, that was the exact cause of said attachment style. gojo taking him in when he was a child didn’t help either — the man also refused to be very vulnerable around him, merely acting as a benefactor and a nuisance at best.

and while he was closest to tsumiki, he’d still built up a wall around himself that she couldn’t get through, and she knew it. she couldn’t break through it in his pre-teen years, and certainly not his teenage years when he was taking out his aggression on his classmates. he would ignore her soothing words and resent her kindness. perhaps he’d taken after toji in that way. constantly fending for himself for the sake of survival. always convinced that he was doomed to be alone.

and then there was you.

he’d met you first at jujutsu tech before any of the other students could. after sparring with maki, he’d been dismissed to shoko’s office. he’d opened the door that september day and was immediately met with your wide eyes, your searing cursed energy. gojo had found another stray.

shoko had made him your first experiment and you excelled. his injuries were healed within minutes. if anything, he felt better than he had in months — after battling insomnia and panic attacks, he felt… calm. like his brain was cleansed and that he had nothing to stress about. (until the next time gojo had gotten on his nerves.)

your introduction to his class was nothing extravagant despite gojo’s theatrics. megumi couldn’t help but keep his eyes on you after that — during practice battles, lectures, or lunch. he was always hyperaware of your presence. he blamed it on your cursed energy.

he hates how enthusiastic yuuji is about you, how yuuji tells him about how he manages to get you alone even though you often keep to yourself, and how he thinks you’re so fucking pretty, and that you’d agreed to watch the human earthworm movies with him. (megumi had refused when yuuji asked.)

he stews in that anger quietly because he’d rather die than let anyone know. nobara knows better, of course. she teases him about it and brings up jealousy.

why should megumi ever be jealous of yuuji? the boy was a freak accident in human form, with no inherent technique. who fucking cares that he can make you laugh without any effort?

it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t. because you have no direct effect on megumi and you don’t distract him during school. he doesn’t cling onto the memory of your hands on his skin. he doesn’t wish for the feeling again. of course not.

he tells this to yuuji and nobara, too. there’s one day where nobara goes too far — she teases him about setting up a date, that you rave about him, that he’s definitely your type. megumi doesn’t believe a word of it, especially because you’re probably more comfortable with yuuji. he doesn’t care to date because it would hold him back. he’s too focused on his training, on being the best, because he’s determined to follow in gojo’s shadow even if he won’t admit it. he could be the second strongest. he could be the most reliable.

it comes out in all the wrong ways. he’s more irritable than usual, so he yells at nobara instead of seething in hushed tones. he rants about how he does’t need someone by his side, certainly not you, whose only benefit is to heal superficial injuries and not much else. how your combat skills are poor, how easily you get beat when you spar on the field. how compared to him, you’re weak, so you’re of no use.

unfortunately, you hear him. every thought on his mind that tumbles out of his stupid mouth, his tone spewing wrath. you know that megumi is a moody person, but you’d never think him to be mean.

you pretend you’re just passing by, but from the faces nobara and yuuji are making, megumi already senses your presence. the color drains from his face, cobalt eyes wide.

“i’m — i’m sorry, i didn’t mean —“

“it’s okay, fushiguro,” you say softly. even after that shitshow, you’re still fucking smiling. it puts a sinking feeling in megumi’s stomach.

“ah, i got an extra pack of mochi and thought you guys would like it.”

you hand over a small bag and megumi takes it wordlessly.

“that’s so sweet,” yuuji beams, attempting to deflect. “hey, i was just looking for you. do you happen to have those jujutsu history notes? kugisaki spilled a soda on mine.”

“you knocked it over!” nobara protests.

“you put it on top of my stuff!”

you take your notebook out of your bag and hand it to yuuji graciously, avoiding megumi’s gaze and making up an excuse to see all of them later.

apparently, “later” means a week after. megumi sees you in class, and while he attempts to walk you to the dining hall or invite you to hang out, you bolt out the door before catching anyone’s attention. he has to find out how you are from fucking yuuji, who somehow gets to see you around the dorms every other day.

“i think she just likes to keep to herself, s’all,” yuuji says. he can sense megumi’s anxiety just from being in the same room as him.

“but you see her all the time.”

“she’s been tutoring me a little. and we just like the same movies and stuff.”

yuuji shrugs casually. his nonchalance makes megumi’s blood boil, because of course he’s the one who gets to occupy all of your time. of course you’re probably most comfortable with him. he knows he shouldn’t be seething at the thought of you two together — it isn’t his right. but his jealousy is starting to get the best of him lately.

“are you guys together?” he blurts out.

“no?” yuuji furrows his brows. “if anything, i feel like nobara might be trying to make a move since she’s way nicer to her than she is to us. except i’m pretty sure she and maki have been going out lately.”

“maki?”

“dude, keep up!”

and when yuuji accuses of megumi having a crush again, the same way nobara did all those weeks ago before he made a fucking fool of himself, megumi shuts it down with a grimace and a blush. he’s merely concerned about your wellbeing is what it is. that’s what he’s able to muster up to yuuji, of course, who absolutely isn’t buying it based on his shit-eating grin.

it’s annoying, especially because yuuji can make you feel more comfortable, comfortable enough to hang with the whole trio, and the pink-haired bastard has to meddle like a little troll. bumping the two of you into each other like you’re in middle school. somehow, it worsens everything. not your dynamic, but megumi’s self-consciousness.

he was already so extremely aware of you, but now he’s convinced that some angel above has tied the red string between you both extra tight. megumi looks for you in every crowd, awaits your arrival every day in the classroom and at lunch, and it’s starting to feel pathetic — the lightness in his chest whenever you’re even so much as ten feet away. his heart even beats faster at the anticipation of your text in the group chat, for fuck’s sake.

and then there’s gojo’s birthday party, a surprise orchestrated by the four of you, despite megumi’s reluctance. you’re particularly more radiant than usual. maybe it’s the lighting. maybe it’s the dress you have on.

despite the amount of shots he’s been forced to take in the past hour (three), megumi is still sober enough to feel anxious around you. though, he thinks he might be drunk enough to be lost in your image, fixating on your collarbone and the way your hair falls in your face as you laugh at one of gojo’s stupid jokes. it’s when the two of you lock eyes that megumi feels out of it, because you smile at him. you fucking smile.

if the warmth of the liquor wasn’t currently raising heated blood to his head, he’d deny the sparks that came from the mere sight of your smile, but he was hopeless. you’re mesmerizing. dizzying. he doesn’t know what to do with his face, not when his cheeks are flushing red and his motor skills are slowing down. fuck, maybe he was a lightweight like gojo after all.

he’s clearly out of touch with reality, because the moment fades as soon as it comes. perhaps it wasn’t a moment at all. he watches you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your mouth moving slowly as you mingle with other classmates. he’s fucking fixated on your mouth — your lipstick tonight is a blush red with a shiny gloss reflecting light. megumi has only dreamed of what your lips would taste like once or twice. no more than that. he swears on it.

there’s brief eye contact between the two of you again for half a second. there’s a coy smile on your face as always before you slip out the back door of the house.

there are so many bottles around the place that no one will notice megumi taking an entire bottle of champagne for himself. he scowls at the taste, of sickeningly sweet pears — courtesy of gojo, probably. his head swims and thinks of you.

his momentary peace is rudely interrupted by the sound of nobara’s voice in his ear, asking for you.

“ijichi’s setting up karaoke!”

“there is no way in hell that i’m—”

“i don’t care what you do, emo, but i need her to do a duet!”

megumi heaves a sigh, making his way to the backyard where he finds you sitting on a tree stump. even with the dim fairy lights, he probably would’ve missed you if not for the cherried end of your cigarette.

“fushiguro-kun,” you nod at him.

“megumi,” he rasps. “just… megumi is fine.”

“oh, i get special privileges now? how come?”

there’s no mirth in your tone. you’re teasing him. he doesn’t answer your question.

(the mere act of you teasing him becomes an intimacy in itself — he had never thought that you would be comfortable enough to talk to him in jest. you’d maintained your distance from him fairly well.)

“didn’t know you smoked.”

“only when i drink,” you shrug. “ieiri-san doesn’t make much of an effort to hide her cigarettes, either. don’t tell on me, though.”

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

he doesn’t know where to look. luckily, you’re not looking at him, so he can settle his gaze on your mouth nursing the cigarette. plump. glossy under the moonlight.

megumi is not used to wanting. he had never asked gojo for anything during his adolescence, and refused any gesture of kindness from anyone. he was convinced since childhood that there was no point in desire because disappointment would be on the other end of it either way.

he’d like to be a monk about it. he could control himself and focus on his studies. never spare you a glance again that isn’t platonic. and then a cool december wind blows past the two of you, and he smells your amber perfume.

and when he turns his head, you’re looking at him, eyes bright.

“so… not enjoying the party?”

“i’m not really one for parties.”

“me neither,” you shrug. “that’s why i like to do my little ritual of escaping.”

“we have that in common.”

you hum, a noncommittal noise. you take another drag of your cigarette, which disintegrates slowly.

“what a pair, the two of us.”

megumi can’t pick up any sarcasm from your voice, though he assumes it. it makes his stomach drop even though the statement is harmless. the two of you. together. it makes endless futures bloom in his mind. maybe it’s the prosecco, but it almost makes him want to vomit. to think that he was even good enough to be beside you in your future.

you curse quietly when you pull your phone out of your jacket pocket to check the time, realizing it’s dead. megumi gives you a once-over. the jacket you’re wearing is all too familiar. like him, you’re not one to wear very many colors. but this jacket is bright red, varsity style, and oversized on you.

“is that itadori’s jacket?” megumi stammers.

“oh, yeah. i didn’t realize how cold it would be tonight.”

“oh.”

“why?” you give him a curious smile.

“nothing,” he coughs. “are… you two…”

you laugh and it’s like a song to him.

“i think he might be my best friend, s’all. why? you jealous?”

he looks at you again, head-on, your eyes still bright. brighter than fluorescents. there’s something in your irises that is meant to provoke him, but he’s dispensed of his usual cautious nature after he takes another gulp from the bottle.

“more than you can imagine,” he huffs.

“sorry?”

“’m not repeating that.”

“what, you’re not saying you’re like, into me, are you?” you exasperate.

megumi remains silent, cheeks flushed. he thinks that if his head could heat up any more, he’d end up with a migraine.

you breathe the tiniest gasp. if it wasn’t for how close megumi was to you, he wouldn’t have noticed.

“i kind of thought you hated me, you know,” you admit.

“i could never hate you. i don’t think anyone could.”

“you don’t have to pretend,” you sigh. he didn’t notice until now that your cigarette was finished, discarded onto the dirt with your boot to crush it into ash. “i— beyond the politeness, i get it. that i’m not your type or whatever. you don’t even have to be friends with me, fushiguro-kun.”

“megumi,” he emphasizes.

“megumi.”

“i’m not pretending. i… i really fucking like you,” he slurs. “it kind of scares me how much.”

“you’re drunk.”

“i am. i know you heard me say all that shit to kugisaki and itadori, but it’s because they put me on the spot and i was nervous. i don’t know how to… deal with feelings. honestly, if i wasn’t even a little drunk right now, i’d probably have left the party with my tail in between my legs and avoided you for the next fucking week, and you don’t deserve that. you deserve… everything.”

“even you?”

when did you get so close to him? if he sauntered just a few inches in your direction, he could touch your noses together. he can smell your perfume so deeply.

“it’s the other way around,” megumi breathes. “i don’t deserve you. not anything close to you.”

“what if i want you regardless?” your voice is just above a whisper. a prayer, a hymn. a wish to be blown out.

megumi swallows the lump in his throat. he blinks at you, dark indigo luminescent. the world slows down. he may owe it to the liquor and the wine, but he assumes it’s just your presence. your scent, the softness of your hair in between his fingers, your soft breaths.

“what do you want, megumi-kun?”

he remembers something gojo said. that to be a jujutsu sorcerer, he has to be selfish. he’s not sure if that philosophy applies to the situation at hand, but he’d be damned if he let you crawl into bed tonight without knowing how he truly felt about you. so, uncharacteristically, he takes a leap forward.

he unwinds the tension in his body and presses his lips to yours. it’s soft, chaste, innocent. something like a pause. he’s afraid to touch you, but you’ve already reeled him in with arms thrown around his shoulders, fingertips touching the softness of his black hair.

you bump your nose with his, shyly, and he kisses you open-mouthed. tongue in your mouth, meshing the taste of tobacco and prickly pear. the vanilla chapstick that he’d put on before he followed you out to the backyard.

he has one hand caressing your jaw and the other on your shoulder, thumb brushing over your collarbone in a way that makes your entire body shiver. you’re embarrassed at the pool of desire in between your legs.

megumi has never let himself be full of wanting, but at the moment, his veins are surging with it. it’s like a drug to him — your warmth, your scent, the saccharine taste of your mouth. your flesh is so soft, so pliable, from the way you dip towards the cavern of his lanky body, pressed against him chest to chest. letting his hand dig into the fat of your hip. fingertips grazing the skin underneath your shirt.

maybe it’s the liquor, but he’s feeling experimental — he tucks your bottom lip in between his teeth. pulls your hair ever so slightly. you mewl into his mouth quietly and he thinks that he’s never felt anything better than this. you’re wrapped up in all of him. you can quite literally feel the heat on his cheeks and both of you realize how aroused he is, his bulge prodding your thigh.

“fuck,” he whispers into your mouth, and he pulls away. only a few inches are separating you as he takes a moment to breathe. his eyes are blown out wide, black stretching across dark blue. both of you are stunned, panting, and the tension is more palpable than ever.

a rustling of grass makes both of you jump. when he turns, he sees yuuji and nobara staring with wide eyes.

“you owe me 7,000 yen,” yuuji deadpans to nobara.

“seriously, fushiguro? i didn’t think you had it in you!”

“i always had faith in you, fushiguro!” yuuji chimes.

while you giggle, megumi growls under his breath at the new intrusions of dumb and dumber.

“i personally thought you were way out of his league,” nobara tells you.

“eat shit.” megumi seethes with arms crossed, and despite his wrath, he resembles more of an angry kitten to you than any potential threat.

“sheesh, don’t summon a shikigami on them, megumi,” you tease with a pleased grin.

“i—” he stumbles over his words in frustration, grimacing. “what do the two of you want, anyway?”

“gojo-sensei got ijichi to sing doja cat.”

“oh, i’ve gotta see this,” you snort, grabbing megumi by the hand as you begin to usher the crew back inside. his heart leaps at the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

despite his inhibitions, megumi’s decided that he could get used to this.

#megumi fushiguro #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fluff #megumi angst #megumi fic #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut

[nerdraging4point0]

Power Play (Hockeyplayer!Noah AU) Masterpost

Thank you to @ladyveronikawrites for the epic title pic!

Tropes and tags: hockey player romance, angsty romance, hidden relationship, forbidden relationship, smutty, MF, multiple POV. 

Author's Note: Please note although this uses real people’s faces and likeness in an AU writing it does NOT in any way reflect the person specifically. I cannot stress enough how upset it will make me to find my work shared on other platforms, including ones that the band has direct access to. This is fan-fiction and if we want nice things, follow the rules. Also, I realize his last name is Davis, however, for the sake of the story and the fact that I like the name Sebastian so much it is the name we will be using for his surname. Thank you, and enjoy!

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11 // Chapter 12 // Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 //

Taglist(click to be added): @ladyveronikawrites @poisongirl616 @shilohrosechicken @th0ughts-pr4yers @meliferafaerie @curse-bearing-hips @letmeadoreyoux @transparentwitchnightmare @darling-millicent-aubrey @moranastray @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @collective-heartbreak @littlefoxkota @somebodyels3 @thisbicc @jakeygvf21 @cind6547 @lma1986 @loeytuan98 @xxkittenkissesxx @darkmxgician @sammyjoeee @malerieee @embracethereaper42 @nerdywitch20 @graveatspeople @sacredthefran @dominuslunae @skulliecadaver-blog @anameunmusical @thatchickwiththecamera @missduffsblog @jessicafg03 @lilrubles @iknownothingpeople @talialovesmiw @deathofpeaceofmiiind @shaydayhere @wild-child-7747

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #noahsebastian fanfic #bad omens band #hockey player noah #hockey #bad omens au #bad omens smut #hockey romance #hockeyomens #hockey player!noah #badomensau #hockey!au #hockey player x reader #hockeyromance #bad omens bandom

[neverinadream]

Birdy And Tig

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Summary: You and Christian quickly solve a dilemma after your second daughter is born.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Warnings: dad!christian, talks of pregnancy, talks of labour and giving birth, i'm not a midwife or a health professional so some stuff might be wrong, just fluff and bad writing

Notes: i'm clearing out the drafts, or at least trying to, this has been in there since september and it really isn't the best thing i've written because i don't think i can write good fluff anymore. could i have written a bit more? maybe made it better? sure, but here you go. enjoy, i guess. feedback is appreciated

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A midwife sings praise over a scream as you push on another contradiction, but she might as well have been talking gibberish to you, your body far too tired to acknowledge a single thing she said.

"I don't want to do this anymore," you whisper to Christian, your head hiding in the pillow, turning to face him, "can't you just...-" You take a second to catch your breath, waving your hand in the air like it could pluck the words you were trying to say from thin air. "-...can't you just tell them to push her back up, or just pull her out?" A bead of sweat rolls down your temple and Christian reaches to swipe it away with his thumb. "I can't do it!"

"I don't think that's possible," Christian replies, cupping your face tenderly in his palm, "nor do I think that would be safe for either you or the baby." He dips, pressing a kiss against your clammy forehead. "You've got this, okay?" He pulls back, his heart tugging at the uncertainty in your wet eyes. "You're already halfway there," he tightens his grip on your hand, pulling it against his lips and kissing it, "just little bit more-"

"It feels like I'm trying to force a bowling ball through a straw," you stressed, tugging hard on the hospital sheets, and interrupting him to paint a painful picture for Christian's imagination.

"And as painful as that sounds, I know you're strong enough to do this." He looks down at the midwife, giving her an apologetic smile. She returns it, like she was trying to say she had heard worse, before giving him a subtle nod.

"Ready to push again?" You shake your head, biting your bottom lip until a metallic tang coats the inside of your mouth. "I know, baby, I know," he reaches over, prying your bottom lip from between your teeth, "but you've done this before, remember?"

You roll your eyes. It had been over three years since your first child was born, and in between taking her first steps and speaking her first words, you had forgotten all about the pain and the tiredness of giving birth. You wouldn't be clutching the hospital sheets and feeling like you might just pass out every time you were told to push if you had remembered the pain.

No woman would go through this twice if they remembered and the human population would eventually die out.

"And now we have a beautiful, beautiful baby girl..."

"Who didn't have a head the size of a watermelon," you interrupt him, gripping his hand tightly as you feel another contraction coming on. He wraps his free hand around your hands like he was trying to channel more strength into you. "Seriously," you take a deep breath and roll your head back against the uncomfortable pillow, "curse you for being a baby with a big head."

He chuckles, finding comfort knowing you hadn't lost your sense of humour. "I did not have a big head."

"I've seen the photos," you bite back, taking another deep breath, "and your mum has told me things that my ears cannot unhear."

He snorts. "And now mine can't either."

"Alright," the midwife interrupts you both, with a thick Italian accent, a name you had long forgotten, and a comforting smile, "ready to go again?"

You glance across at Christian, adoration in his eyes as he watches you. It almost mirrored the same expression he wore as he watched you walk down the aisle. "Ready to finish this?" He asks, dipping and kissing the back of your joined hands. Fresh tears sit on the corners of your eyes and you have to blink three times to clear them away. He quickly collects them on his thumb and wipes them away. "Let's do this, baby, let's meet our little girl."

Ten tiny, perfect fingers.

Ten tiny, perfect toes.

Christian silently counted each of them as he looked over your shoulder. A few calm shouts and an array of noises coming from outside couldn't distract him from the beauty that was his second-born daughter. "She's perfect," he says in awe, tilting his head to kiss the back of your neck. Thirty-two tiring hours, multiple death threats and nearly a broken hand had gotten you both to this moment. And you had made Christian promise you that you would never have to do it again. "Have you ever seen someone so perfect?"

"Don't let Birdy hear you say that."

He nuzzles his face into you, stifling a laugh. "She'll forgive me when she sees how perfect she is." You stroke your finger delicately along her nose, unable to disagree with him; Birdy was going to love her. "She's really ours?" He asks, almost in disbelief, despite the baby, not even a few hours old, lying in your arms.

"Oh," there's a soft whistling sound as you suck the air in between your teeth, "would now be a bad time to say I slept with the mailman?"

He snorts. "You're not funny."

"I'll stop when you stop laughing."

"I'm not laughing," he nips back, his body softly shaking against yours from the silent laugh that rattled through him.

He takes in her tuft of brown hair, eyes that matched yours, and chubby round cheeks. Fresh tears begin to wet his eyes and he does nothing to stop them. "I'm glad I was here for this one," he says quietly against your ear, stroking his finger calmly along your daughter's cheek. Her cheek twitches and her little mouth scrunches tightly shut.

You turn your head, catching his gaze only for a second. He knows what you're going to say, that he shouldn't be so hard on himself for missing the birth of your first child, that there wasn't anything he could've done, but there will always be a part of him that wishes he had been there.

"She's perfect," he repeats, unable to find a better word to describe her.

"You've said that already," you giggle, welcoming the kiss he leaves on your cheek, before looking back down. But he was right, she was perfect. The perfect combination of both of you. "She doesn't look like a Charlotte, though," you say, a smidgen of disappointment lacing your tired voice. Your bottom lip pushes out. Charlotte had been the name you had settled on seven months into your pregnancy, but looking at her now, it seemed to be the wrong choice. "What are we gonna call her?"

Christian agreed. "What other names did we think of?"

"Daphne?"

He frowns. "Like in Bridgerton?"

"Fine," you sigh, quickly rolling your eyes, "maybe not that then. What about Phoebe?" He snorts, covering his mouth to hide his childish laughter. "What's wrong with-? Oh. P. P. Very mature of you, babe." His laughter dies down but starts up again as a soft laugh squeezes its way past your lips. You had pictured Birdy referring to her baby sister as 'PeePee,' running around the apartment and shouting it at the top of her tiny lungs, following it up with a fit of giggles. "Okay," you shake your head, clearing the thought from your head, "what else?"

"We could always ask Birdy to pick," Christian suggests, yawning into your ear.

"Sure," you nod, "if you want us to be calling her 'bubbles' for the rest of her life."

"Bubbles and Birdy," he snorts, "sounds like the name of a cartoon detective series."

"What about Tigerlily?" You mumble, the name leaving your lips before you can even stop it. He lifts his brows, not entirely opposed to the name. It had been on your 'maybe' list. "Tig for short?" He looks between you and your daughter, letting the name roll around his head until he could find an excuse for why you shouldn't. "It's unusual, I know-"

"Our other daughter is called 'Birdy,' babe," Christian chuckles, nuzzling his face once more into your neck. You knew he was just as tired as you were. "No name is unusual for us."

Tigerlily it was then.

"Birdy and Tig," you smiled, looking back at him, "now that sounds like a detective series."

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Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @brasiliangp @chilwellspulisic @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @landoslover @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @kathb59 @emcv1427 @gagaslonina @afterpills @pulisicsgirl @ricciardhoe3

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x you

[sshadowritestoriess]

I apologize because I know you get a lot of ramattra requests, but can I request a sexually frustrated ramattra?

No problem, this was fun to think about honestly :]

Sexually Frustrated Ramattra

Ramattra is already a very stressed-out and aggravated omnic, so I am in full belief that he would not be able to recognize right away where this new kind of frustration is stemming from

And it would drive him to the brink of insanity. He would seek solutions, first: being somewhat of a workaholic, he’d frantically complete task after task until he has nothing left to finish for that day, maybe even for that week, before he finally allows himself to sit down and meditate for a few hours.

But no matter how deeply he breathes or how still he sits, no matter how many times he refreshes his thoughts and (quite literally) clears his mind, he cannot shake this internal burning feeling that nips at his very fingertips and makes him want to scream

He would resign the peaceful exercise for something more exerting; violence. Practicing the martial arts he was taught at the shambali, kicking and punching at practice-bots and dummies, reaching the point of tearing one apart limb-from-limb and ripping into the center of its intricate chassis— pulling out wires like a child would do to grass in a temper-tantrum

And then the object of his infatuation would pass him by in this all-too-embarrassing moment, asking if he was okay, and then it would click for him. But who was he to ask for that kind of aid after being seen like this?

He would assure you that he’s fine, then escapes your presence to try to take care of it himself, hiding away in his own quarters and stroking himself off with an intense quickness to try and make it go away. Refreshing his systems to rid of this error.

He’s rough with himself, leaning hard into a wall and pulling at a fistful of his cabled mane until he hears the wire enamels creak and snap in his fingers, damaging his own ‘hair’. His hands are just my no means soft, providing an intense friction around his synthetic sex.

So as the Iris would have it, his own stimulation and imagination would not be enough to satiate this cursed sense of hunger.

He would try to disconnect his copulative attachments after some failed attempts to provide himself relief, yet the cravings would remain, just slightly altered for lack of equipment. He still needed to have someone near, to feel hands that weren’t his own reaching into the crevices of his body to force his guard down. He needed to relax at someone else’s bidding. He had just had far too much time by himself and his codependence trait had finally unraveled.

And everything about it makes him angry about the entire world around him, including himself. So the second time he bumps into you, much later in the evening, he’s somewhat hunched over and marching down a hall from his headquarters, red and yellow glimpses of wires practically glowing with a display of rage from the new tears in his cables. There’s always been an air about Ramattra that seems dangerous— but now especially, it felt that he may kill the next thing that enters a ten-foot radius around him.

So you would stop before getting to close, and he’d freeze just the same, staring at you through the dark slits of his faceplate. You could see the way his shoulders rose and fell in a more exaggerated manner, as if he was breathing heavy in his anger (though he doesn’t breathe at all).

It’s not at all difficult to guess he has had a very rough day. And he would further hate himself when you cautiously ask again if he was doing alright— clearly, he wasn’t, but it was invitation to speak or ask for help. And with a small pause in reluctance, feeling far more embarrassed than he would have liked (especially for spending half the day trying to get off) he would.

“I need… assistance,” The word would be hissed out as if he had gritted teeth, “for something far more mundane and—“ he’d force his gaze away from you, “—private than our usual tasks.”

You’d ask what it is he needs, of course. There’s an air of nervousness between you both— Ramattra in fear of dragging himself further through this muddy situation, and destroying all chances of you feeling comfortable around him ever again for what he’d like to ask of you.

But he’s already found himself here and has run out of ideas, and he’s not the omnic to put things very lightly. So he’d just come out and say it.

“Sex.” The word is spat as though it offended him, and he’d drop his head toward the ground with a defeated sigh. He’d raise a hand and roll his wrist almost dismissively, “I cannot bring myself to function without this lingering frustration for the moment, so if you would like to help or have any suggestions that would ensure this feeling goes away, I would certainly appreciate it.”

#overwatch #overwatch2 #headcanons #ramattra #reader insert #ramattra x reader #smut #ramattra overwatch #ramattra x listener #imagines

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

When you did the parent thing for the other creepypastas it got me wondering about Toby?

Something Short

Warnings: Unwanted kids, child abuse, abuse in general, implied Rape, Child neglect, cursing, Toby being an awful dad, disorders, murder, bullying, violence, and crying.

Your kid with Toby was definitely an accident. Toby doesn't want kids, he doesn't like them plus they would take up too much attention.

So when you told him he was far from happy. Mostly because he couldn't fuck you and he'd have to get much more control over his emotions in order to not hurt you.

It'll take a lot of convincing in order to convince him to not kill or abort the kid. Toby can be childish at times but he's also unhinged and unstable, it wouldn't be safe for the kid ngl.

IF you were able to convince Toby to let you keep it, he's making you take care of it. When he first saw the kid he asked why it was so ugly.

When the baby would cry at night, Toby would yell shut up but if you didn't wake up he'd get out of bed and walk to the baby's crib. He'd tell it to shut up but if it didn't he'd either give it a binky, or if he was in a really bad mood, tape it's mouth shut.

I cannot stress enough but NEVER leave Toby alone with the kid. The danger is too high. Toby is unpredictable and if the kid gets on his nerves, he will hurt them.

Toby is not above using the kid as leverage. Telling you that if you didn't follow his rules, the baby was going to pay the price for you.

As the kid gets older though, Toby will slowly get more and more attached. It's a process.

He'd be really close to the kid if they looked a lot like you, having your eyes, nose, mouth, everything. He's really insecure with himself and he'd hate if his kid was just as '"ugly" as him.

Toby will start off as an awful dad, but as time moves on and you be his good little bitch, he'll become better for the kids sake.

But one contradiction of his behavior is how he said he didn't want to be like his parents, never in a million years. And I think he'd notice he was becoming a lot like his dad when your daughter was crying to you about how mean daddy was to you and her. After you heard that, you fucking snapped and yelled at Toby for a solid hour. He was fucking pissed and pinned you to the floor with his hatchet to your throat but then he realized how much he was traumatizing his kid.

Toby's behavior towards you won't change at all, but he'd better himself in order for your kid to not hate him.

If your kid inherited any of Toby's disorders, Toby wouldn't know what to do. Toby doesn't treat his disorders, he deals with them. So he'd tell his kid to just live with them and how they were a forever a part of them. He's trying.

He'd send his kid to school, but if he hears they're getting bullied, he's murdering and traumatizing some families.

Toby's violent ways will definitely go over to his kid and they'll slowly become more and more violent since they see Toby being like that. You have to activly try to make your kid not be so violent and have them be a decent human being unlike their father.

So, Toby goes from an awful dad to an ok dad. I'd rate him 3/10. The dude's crazy. He'd be the worse father out of all the proxies, so never let this man give you kids. Use protection y'all.

#yandere creepypasta #yandere creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #ticci toby x y/n #ticci toby #yandere ticci toby #proxies x reader #Yandere proxies #Something Short Series

[gothic-thoughts]

High Baby Fever

Part 3! Dio Brando x Black Fem Reader Angst

DomesticAU

TW: Miscarriage, mentions of child endangerment, mentions of murder(Just Dio tings really), NOT PROOFREAD(im sick😷🤒)

CW: Dio comforting, kidnapping, she/her pronouns

Word Count: 1742 (give or take)

Hearing soft sniffles and whimpers from across my mansion, I zoom to (Y/n)’s personal chambers and gently knock against the wood, the light thuds echoing throughout the empty corridor.

"(Y/n), what's wrong?” I rest my head against the door, “I heard you crying, my angel.”

I hear her voice curse softly so I look through the slight crack, my eyes tracking her form slowly jogging to the door and pressing against it in an attempt to keep me out.

"(Y/n), you know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s nothing, Dio. I just...I just need some space.”

“Have I upset you?"

“No! I mean, no.”

“Do not lie to me,” my forehead presses upon the door, “I could hear those sobs a mile away"

 I tried to push the door open, only for it to barely budge from the frame as the soft sniffles and gasps began again. My chest begins to tighten.

“Angel, please, this stress is not good for the baby. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You...you’re gonna hate me....”

"Never, my sweet.” I jiggle the handle harder, trying to pry it free, just to be with her, “I could never hate you. Tell me anything, anything at all."

She doesn’t respond, only leaving me with soft whimpers from behind the door. I open my mouth to speak but stop, taking in the idea that I hadn’t considered. I peek through the slit in the door to see my beloved walk to the other side of the bedroom before kicking through the door, old wood splintering and falling all over the stone floor as I burst inside.

I dusted myself off before I laid eyes on her—my sweet (Y/n)’s eyes were slightly bloodshot with a face streaked with tears. Before she could blink another tear from her lashes, she was in my arms and pressed close to my chest. I hold her tight and place a delicate kiss atop her skull then press my chin on the area as I breathe with her.

“Did you just break my door down?”

I take her chin and force her to look at me, “Now, what has upset you so much?"

Her eyes brim with water once again as she opens her mouth. She weeps again, pressing her wet, chubby face into my bare chest.

“The...the baby...”

My brow knit together. "What about the baby?" I run my fingers through the thick coils of her hair as delicate as possible, “What’s happened? Is Rose no longer healthy?”

Her muffled, broken sob was all I needed to hear as my heart tightened, a shiver running through every nerve, bone, and fiber in my body. (Y/n) shakily grabbed my hand and place it over her stomach—it had lost it's weight.

I shook my head to deny this, refusing to believe it as my eyes started stinging. I could not believe what I was hearing.

"No, no, darling. It's just some mistake; perhaps she was asleep."

“That's what I said! B-but he said...” 

 She paused to choke on more sobs so I wiped them away with my thumbs, hands trembling as I tried to keep up my strong façade for her.

"Who said that?" I tightened my grip on her, eyes wide with worry, "Tell me, who you got this....‘information’ from, because it cannot be true, you’ve only been with child for a month. You cannot just believe any--"

“The doctor told me, Dio!”

My breath hitches again. I shook my head angrily.

"Then he is a fool!" I continued wiping her tears away, mine starting to slip free, "He was wrong, dear. He was....”

“...I told you you’d hate me.”

I snap free of my denial, returning to my natural calm, collected demeanor as I guide her head up so I can see those pools of coffee glistening beautifully in the moonlight from the abundance of tears.

"Hate you...? (Y/n), my sweet...how can you say such a thing?"

Tears fell freely down her face. I took her trembling hands in mine, sickened at the thought of our loss being her fault.

"It’s never your fault, you’re smart enough to know that. How could I possibly hate you? I have never loved anyone before or after you, you’re aware of that. Darling, I need you—more than I need the next breath I take."

I held my hands to hers, pressing them to my lips and giving them a gentle kiss, all while looking at her longingly and leaning down to kiss back as passionately as ever before placing my forehead against yours, closed my eyes, savoring our togetherness.

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

It had been a grueling 6 months of healing since then and for the most part, I had come to terms with the loss, yet, (Y/n) could not help but beat herself up about the whole ordeal every time she so much as breathed. It infuriated me to see her in such disarray the worst being that she wouldn’t speak to me about it. My heart shattered day in and out at the thought that I was growing to accept the death while my sweet seemed to be carrying all the weight of our shared grief. So tonight, I thought I’d set out to find her something she’d love from the streets of Egypt.

Once I return, I put it in a box and wrap it up nicely with a red bow before finding (Y/n) in our room, sitting on our bed with the same frown she had for months. I carried a large box inside with a loving smile in her direction in contrast with the confusion written all over her face as I gently set her present near the edge of the bed. I walk around the bed and take her smaller hands in mine and I just couldn’t help but smile.

"(Y/n), my darling...my love...my--”

“Dio, what is it?" She forces a chuckle, "And what is that?”

“Am I not allowed to be spontaneous? It is simply a gift for my partner.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, I know you are still lamenting from that fateful day, and I cannot bear to see you like this anymore. And so, I got you something I thought would force that beautiful smile out again.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet, baby; what is it?”

I pull her to her feet, guiding her over to the end of the bed where the box was. "Go on, open it.”

“Tell me what it is!”

“I'll tell you that it is fragile, so be delicate."

Giving her a soft smile, I watch in anticipation as she carefully opens the box, my heart skipping beats, just waiting to see her face and when the box is finally wide open. She gasps loudly upon seeing the slumbering, infant wrapped in its little purple blanket, even taking a couple of steps back as I smile—the brightest smile I had in ages. I gently lifted the sweet, frail thing from the cardboard, cradling him closely to my bare chest, and listening as faint, somnolent sighs exit the child’s mouth.

“Isn’t he the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?” My thumb caresses back and forth on the infant’s forehead, “My minions couldn’t find an available baby girl so I hope the sex won’t be a problem.”

(Y/n) stammers a bit, “You stole a baby?!”

I kissed the child’s cheek, “Steal is quite the term; I rescued the poor thing.”

“Where did you get him?”

“What does that matter? He’s safe now.”

“Who's baby is this?”

"I don't know, I didn't make conversation before I butchered them."

"You killed them?!"

"That's what you're surprised at?"

"Yes, wha--no! Look, I just want to know what possessed you to kidnap a fucking newborn.”

I sigh, placing the boy on the bed, smirking as he readjusts his tiny feet inside the blanket encasing him. I look at her, reaching to stroke her plump, brown cheek.

"You did."

"What? Uh, excuse me, how is any of thi—!"

"I could no longer bear to see you so unhappy about the miscarriage so I sent my minions to seek out any newborns who seemed to be improperly taken care of."

She was silent for a moment, jaw agape as she struggled to find her words. She looked past me to the baby sleeping on the bed, but her face was still unreadable as her eyes moved to concentrate on me with a very evident side-eye.

"The minions found him tonight, I went to his residence to find him underfed in a house full of cigarette smoke."

"Underfed? Oh god...did you feed him?" 

"Yes, of course. After his parents were nothing stains, I fed him anything I could find in their home and on the way here."

She strode around me and picked up the child delicately, cradling him in her arms while his little hands clenched into fists as he slept. I step close to her, glancing over her shoulder at the baby.

"Look at him, (Y/n); he's our miracle. How was I supposed to abandon such an innocent thing in the home with such a terrible couple? We can raise him to be a better man than his biological father ever was...”

She sighed, swiping her thumb back and forth across the infant's forehead as her heart swelled with more and more affection for it.

"Do you not like him? If you really can’t bring yourself to love him, I am not attached as of yet so I could discard--”

“What, no!"

"Excellent, then from here on out, I will bring myself to be the best father possible."

"That means a lot coming from you." She giggles, the sweet sound lightening the air, "You gonna teach him to be evil?"

I laughed. "That's your first thought? No, dear. I could never make him evil like me! However... I could make him my successor. A villain must have an heir, after all."

"Well does your heir have a name?"

I gently take the baby from her hands, accidentally making its eyelids flutter open to reveal bright green irises as it awakes. I smiled in amusement, unable to take my eyes off our son. He was so...sweet and innocent, especially with the slight confusion on his features.

"Whatever name was bestowed onto him by that terrible family is a waste, therefore he does not yet." I slip my thumb into the baby's fist, shaking it slowly, "Although, I do like the sound of Giorno....it's perfect."

#x black reader #x black fem reader #black reader #black writers #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #dio brando x reader #black fem reader #dio x reader #dio brando #dio jjba #dio jojo #jjba x reader #jojo part 3 #dio x black reader

[artemis-the-author]

I've seen people blame Percy for Bianca's death. I've seen people hate on Nico for how he reacted and the things he did in TLO. I've seen people hate on Percy for how he reacted to the whole thing in the Underworld.

I am fucking annoyed.

Percy, fourteen years old, saw this child, and promised to do his best to keep his sister safe. He never promised to bring her back alive. Only to do his best. Percy did not put a bow and arrow in her hand, Percy did not choose her to go on the quest. Percy came up with a plan to defeat Talos, a plan he would follow through himself, but Bianca insisted she do it, because it was her fault Talos was even attacking them (make no mistake, I am not blaming Bianca for anything, either. This was a bunch of children having to choose between bad and worse).

Percy, fourteen years old, just had to tell a kid his sister, his only sister, is dead. Percy, just back from a quest where he saw two people die, really die, for the first time, is given the responsibility of breaking it to Nico that his only family is dead and gone. They had a kid tell another kid about the other kid now having no sister. Not Chiron, the only real adult, not one of the older counselors who've probably had to do this before. No, they had someone who is still reeling from his own grief break the news.

Percy, fifteen almost sixteen, on the brink of a war he's convinced he's going to die in, just got betrayed. Percy, who is under the constant stress of making a choice that will either lead to destruction or safety, just got betrayed. He is not in a state of mind to consider the variables, to consider what Nico's thought process was. He is a child with the weight of the world on his shoulders (pun not intended), all he sees now is betrayal.

Nico, ten (eleven, twelve? The timeline is weird) years old, made Percy promise that he'd try his best to bring his sister back. To Nico, that's a guarantee that Bianca is coming back, because this amazing, strong, boy already saved them once. He cannot conceive that Percy's best may not be enough.

Nico, ten years old, just found out his sister is dead. Percy (amazing, beautiful, strong, perfect), lied to him. Percy got his sister killed. Percy promised he would bring her back, and then he didn't. It's all Percy's fault, and Nico hates hates hates him (he tells himself he hates Percy, because if he doesn’t then what kind of brother is he? If he doesn't hate Percy with all the hate he has, then is he a good brother to Bianca? Bianca, who left him the first chance she got, who abandoned him.)

Nico, eleven (twelve? thirteen?) years old, just got promised information about his mother. He just has to bring Percy Jackson to the Underworld. He already wants Percy to come down and get Achillies curse, this will just be a detour. But then his father locks Percy away and Nico exhausts himself putting all the guards to sleep so he can get Percy free. But when he does all he gets is a sword to the throat, and later Percy telling him to stay in the Underworld to convince his father to join the war. A dismissal disguised as a war strategy.

And Bianca. Bianca was twelve, and she had to take care of her brother. Bianca was twelve, and she was given the responsibility to be a parent. Bianca wanted to be a child, not a parent. So no matter how much she loved her brother, no matter how much she wants him to be safe and sound, she joins the Hunters of Artemis. She can finally be free, and she takes the chance no matter how much it pains her to see her brother draw away. So she picks up a little gift for him, on her quest, the only figurine he does not have. But then the little gift gets them attacked, and, ultimately, killed.

These are children. These children, presented with circumstances and choices and challenges an adult would break under, are not stable enough to consider every thought, every variable, every circumstance that surrounded every decision made by others. They're under constant stress and pressure and they cannot do this in a 'sensible' way because there are things happening to and around them and they are not stable. Especially at those specific moments.

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #trauma all around #if i got something wrong tell me #I'll probably correct it unless it's bullshit

[achaotichuman]

omg this isn't a request or anything but could you imagine Azris babysitting Toddler Dahlia for a day 💀

THEY WOULD BE STRESSED.

Lucien would smugly hand her over to eris in such a sickly sweet tone that is far too sarcastic to have any good intentions and then just run away

While Eris looks at the child in his arms, so confident that he's got this since he has so many siblings. I feel like Azriel would be the type to have no experience AT ALL and probs poke the Dahlia and then get his finger bitten off.

(many lives were lost that day)

Lucien just winnows into Eris' office, holds up his daughter and is like "Do you wanna babysit your perfect, sweet, innocent little niece?? Of course you do!!!"

Before Eris can even get a word out Lucien is pretty much shoving Dahlia into Eris' arms, goes on for a moment about how easy she is to take care of then bolts out of the office.

Dahlia is giggling and babbling in his arms, Eris is like "Well then, just you and me little one."

Azriel shows up and is like "Wtf???" And Eris is like "This is my niece aka our niece and we are taking care of her today."

Then Dahlia spots a shiny breakable on Eris' desk and is immediately like, "Gimme!"

Eris, being super responsible, goes, "No, no that could hurt you if it breaks."

Dahlia looks up at Eris, and in the most serious voice a toddler can manage, says, "Gimme."

Eris says, "No."

Claws are out, there is screaming, there is crying, there is blood, there are bruises and there are tears. Azriel runs to the nearest corner and is hiding, while Eris is cursing and trying to tear this tiny ball of furry fury off of him.

Eris only manages to calm Dahlia down by lighting a nearby chair on fire, and ofc Dahlia being the chaos gremlin she is, is immediately like, "ooooh fire!" And forgets all about the shiny breakable.

So now the fear of Dahlia has been slapped into Eris and Azriel.

And the day is full of chaos, Eris still tries to say no and teach Dahlia she cannot get everything she wants, she does not take this very well.

Azriel is hiding from behind a chair, whenever Eris brings Dahlia into the room, Azriel either leaves or gets as far away as he can.

Then Dahlia is overtired, which means more outbursts and more destruction.

And then Azriel decides, 'I don't know anything about children, but when I was a kid, my shadows sung to me to calm me down and I'm desperate, so let's give that a shot."

So from the corner of the room, Azriel is hidden in his shadows and starts singing a lullaby. And Dahlia hears it and is like 'Interesting... this pleases me.' And she goes to sleep.

Eris is incriedbly indignant that Azriel was the one to get her to sleep so he hands Dahlia over to him and is like "You know what, you deal with her."

Azriel then does paperwork with Dahlia asleep in his arms, whenever she starts to fuss he hums under his breaths and she falls asleep again. Azriel is now smitten with his niece in law (Is that what she would be to him??)

Anyway, then Dahlia wakes up and is alight with energy and tries to bite Azriel in the wing.

Thankfully around this time Tamlin shows up to collect her and is like "Alright thats enough time to go home."

Tam has now developed a system for Dahlia, cause turns out all that biting and lashing out is because she's teething really badly. So, he shifts antlers, puts her on his head and Dahlia immediately chews on them and is happy again.

Then Tamlin's like "Thanks for looking after her, I know she's a handful!"

And off he goes.

Eris is now slamming his head into his desk because, of course, of course, of course it was teething!

Though when Dahlia is 200, she still likes to affectionately bite people so maybe it wasn't just teething :D

#this would be hilarious tho #so chaotic #so full of fun times #the fun times are really only for dahlia #azriel is still smitten #even after she bites him #who wouldn't be? #acotar #pro tamlin #tamlin #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #eris vanserra #pro eris vanserra #azris #tamcien #tamlin's daughter #acotar headcanons #acotar au

[daddy-bradley]

Crumble

(Not my gif!!! Credit to owner!!)

Summary: You and Bradley are having your first fight after your baby is born. How will you both come to a solution and learn to cope through this together?

Warning(s): Angst, cursing, mentions of parental insecurity, depression, anxiety, has a happy ending (Shout out to you hard-working mothers out there)

MESSAGE: (If you are someone who is dealing with depression, anxiety, etc. Please reach out for help. I know it may seem worthless, but I promise you, it'll help.)

A/N: Some songs I listened to for inspiration while writing this piece (Highly suggest you listen as you read!): He Deserves your Love - Sir, Selfish - Future ft. Rihanna, Glimpse of Us - Joji, Serendipity - BTS (Jimin)

"I don't have a say in when I get deployed. I don't know how many times I have to say this." the frustration in Bradley's voice was evident.

You had just been told that he was ordered for deployment and had to be shipped out for two months. Not even three months after your daughter had been born.

"I understand that when you are given orders you can't say no. I'm just upset that I'll be left here alone raising our daughter on my own." You stressed out to him as you tried your best to keep your voice quiet so your daughter would not wake up from her sleep.

"You won't be alone Y/N. You have Penny, your mom, the guys and Pete if you need help with anything. I can't do anything about this, so I don't understand why you're getting so upset." He was trying his best to hold back his frustration. He could feel his anger starting to appear, but he would never dare to lash out at you. At the end of the day you were his wife, and he was not going to mistreat you like that.

"Because you won't be here Bradley!" You finally revealed. The tears started to fall from your eyes, and you had decided to just let all your feelings become evident.

"You'll be gone at a place where I don't know if you'll make it back. Where I don't know if you'll be coming back to me and our daughter..." you hiccupped as you tried your best to calm yourself down.

As he was getting ready to respond to your concerns, you cut him off and proceeded to talk. He needed to know how you felt, or else he would never know what was bother you and make the situation worse later down the line.

"I know that this is your job. I know that this is something you love. But I also know that I cannot raise our daughter alone. I need you Bradley. Our daughter needs you. I don't want to have to face the day where she finally realizes you're not there and asks where you are and if you are coming home. Because I don't know when you will come home. I don't know if you will. You can promise me everything in the world, but at the end of the day, you and I both know that you not coming home is a possibility. And I don't want her to grow up without her father. I-I don't. Not, not like I-I did." the dam finally broke and this time you just let yourself cry, and cry, and cry.

It felt good to finally get this off your chest, it felt good to cry. But what you didn't feel good about was unintentionally making Bradley feel guilty about his career. You would never want him to regret dedicating his life to protecting this country. But, at the very least, he needed to know how you felt.

As you continued to cry with your hands covering your face, Bradley stood there and let your words sink in. He understands what you are feeling. He would never deny that him leaving you every time he had a deployment was hard. But he has a family now, and this time he would be leaving his wife and a child.

He knew that you being on your own without him can be lonely, but he also knew that would be the one taking care of the baby primarily on your own. Waking up multiple times throughout the night to feed and change her diaper, not get enough sleep, make sure to maintain the house, go to work, pay the bills, etc.

He watched you crumble in front of him. Your sadness causing a huge weight to your shoulders.Your gut wrenching sobs that you tried to control to not disturb your daughter. He knew the main reason why you were afraid to be on your own without him. you were afraid that you were going to have another depressive episode again.

After your daughter was born, he noticed after a couple of weeks that you weren't bonding with her as much as he was. The connection was not there. It wasn't until he came home one day to see you in bed, tears streaming, your hands in your hair, throat raw from crying as you curl up into a ball that he truly knew something was wrong.

He did everything he could to get you the help you need. To learn how to cope with your feelings. To build a better connection with your daughter. Overtime, massive improvement was seen and he was so proud of you. Your bond with daughter was now stronger than ever, and now everything she did consumed you.

Taking a step forward, Bradley pulls you into his chest. His arms are so tight around you, to the verge of almost suffocation. But you didn't even notice. Your arms instinctually wrapping around him as you cried in his neck.

"Everything is going to be okay baby." he soothed you as he kept you in his grip. He knew that you needed this, this type of security. It was one of the few things that made you feel safe.

"B-But what if-if it's not Bradley? W-What if I have an-another episode? I-I don't w-want that to-to happen?" you said brokenly as you thought about the past.

Pulling slightly away from you, he puts a finger under your chin to make you look at him. He needed you to listen and understand what he was going to say.

"Listen to me baby. You are strong, a very strong woman and a very good mother. I know you're scared of that happening again, but I know you are stronger than that." he started off as he gently wiped your continuous tears away.

"You gave birth to our daughter, you fought constant battles with your mind that affected your relationship with her, but in the end you won. You fought those demons, and now you are better than ever. " he leaned his forehead down to yours, your noses slightly touching.

"Its normal to feel sad every once in a while, and I know there is a chance that can happen while I'm gone, but you have to believe in yourself that you can overcome those moments and go back to being that strong woman that I know your capable of. Not for me, but for our daughter. Not having you both with me is going to be pure hell, I'm gonna have my moments too. But at the end of the day, I have reason to come home and that's you two. If I can do it, so can you. I believe in you, our daughter believes in you. And most of all, we both love you. You're strong baby, you just have to believe in it. "

And with that he gave you a long and hard kiss to your forehead, while keeping you in his arms. Your tears had stopped the river, but they were still there. You knew he was right. You knew that you could do this, you just had to make yourself believe that you can.

"I am strong." you whispered out as you kept your grip on him.

"You are." he replied back once he pulled away from your forehead.

"I am very strong." you said louder, although your voice was a bit wobbly.

"You are very strong." he praised you. He leaned down to give you a soft kiss in which you embraced whole-heartedly. Although you were still sad that he was leaving, you felt more prepared to look after your daughter when it was time for him to go.

"I'm a very good mother." you said, after the kiss.

"You're a wonderful mother." he said.

"I can do this." you stated firmly. This time, no hesitation, and no hint of stuttering in your voice.

"You can do this."

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw smut #rooster #rooster x reader #miles teller imagine #miles teller #mickey fanboy garcia #pete mitchell #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #bob floyd #jake seresin #pheonix

[anqelically]

LOVING YOU | YUTA OKKOTSU X FEM!READER

005. UNEXPECTED GUEST

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You and Yuta are assigned to work together for another mission. This time, you were instructed to exorcise the cursed spirit that had taken the lives of 7 girls about your age

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Violence and injuries

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

INTRODUCTION | CH4 | CH6

To the normal eye in Japan, a missing person's case was not all that uncommon. It was a common occurrence due to cursed spirits.

The barriers around the country maintained by Master Tengen didn't allow many sorcerers or cursed spirits to appear out in the rest of the world. Hence, of all the countries in the world, Japan would easily be considered the country with the largest number of missing person reports.

When someone is related to the missing person, life becomes complicated. Stress responses settle in and most people can only think of praying for this person's return.

There are cases where the missing person returns home. Although they may have been in a different physical or mental state, they weren't dead.

Deaths that cannot be explained often happen to jujutsu sorcerers. Breaking the news to their non-sorcerer families about false information was the best they could do.

You and Okkotsu were assigned to investigate a singular chain of missing people. It was assumed to be done by a cursed spirit, but not one of an over-bearing level for you.

Okkotsu needed the experience, especially since he was a special grade sorcerer. His actual physical capabilities didn't even match up to a grade two sorcerer's. There was clearly room for improvement and this was a chance for that.

"Don't die," Maki looked back at the two as they were about to leave.

You waved, "Not planning on it, you know. See you later."

You both went to a car and were accompanied by Ijichi. You read the information on a tablet provided by the school out loud.

"At least 7 girls happened to be killed by the cursed spirit predicted to be a grade one within the past two months," your eyes widened, "and all were in their teen years. The youngest was only 14 years old..."

Okkotsu glanced at her before back at the tablet, his skin crawling, "Disturbing..."

"That's what's, unfortunately, ahead as a sorcerer." Ijichi took a quick look back at you two from the rearview mirror, "Only those who can handle it can continue."

The noiret fiddled with his fingers. He remembered the twisted and deformed bodies of his bullies from November of last year. It was the case that caught the Jujutsu Higher-Ups' attention.

"Beware, Yuta-kun, people will die in gruesome ways."

Okkotsu remembered Gojo's words and thought of the endless possibilities. People probably ended up like his old classmates or, even worse, dead. The real question was if he could handle seeing it often or not. It might've been a familiar sight, but the eyes of a child such as him will always be horrified.

"How do you handle it, Y/N-san?" Okkotsu decided to ask.

You were surprisingly quick to respond, "Part of me is always disturbed, so I'm not sure if I would consider it being handled. I know I'm a sorcerer for my loved ones. I can't save everyone or change everything, but I can certainly try and learn from those experiences. No one will be tormented by curses I defeat, and I can become stronger. After all, strength only comes from experience and courage. So, it doesn't matter if I dislike the things I witness as a sorcerer. This is my job, and I'll do my best to help who I can."

"That's very noble of you."

"So that's how you see it," you leaned your head back. "Nobility would be able to help everyone."

Okkotsu was surprised at your words that contained subtext. He believed you to be a principled and strong girl for someone so young. It was admirable to him, so why did you make it seem like you weren't good enough?

Though, he had no place to speak on a subject like that. There was more to Okkotsu than he could see. He would soon realize that fact, even at a price.

Okkotsu glanced out the car's window for most of the ride. He seemed to be the only one bothered by the silence, and you could tell by the way he kept peaking at you when his eyes were not on the window.

You wanted to ask what was bothering him but refrained from doing so because of the unexplained shyness you were suddenly experiencing. You chewed the inside of your cheek when you could feel his gaze.

You never felt the need to be shy around him, so you could only ponder as to why you were reacting that way. The car ride was over before you could even figure out a solution.

"This is where they went missing?" Okkotsu observed the business complex you arrived at.

It was two large four-floored buildings connected by a small one in the middle where the main entrance was. However, a large, worn-out tarp covered a majority of the 2nd building.

Ijichi answered, "It is. Your objective is to find the cursed spirit in here and exorcise it. Gojo-san also instructed me to tell you to not bring out Rika Orimoto."

The special grade sorcerer nodded and gripped his sheathed sword tighter. He would now have to rely on his small amount of capabilities and you, who shouldn't have to be worried about him.

"It's only a grade one so I think we can do it," you strapped your weapon to your belt. "There's two of us, and one, so far, of it."

The ravenet froze, "S-so far?"

"Always expect the unexpected," Ijichi told him before chanting the words necessary to create a curtain.

As the barrier draped down over the area, you and Okkotsu took the chance to enter the building. Side by side, you walked down the dirty halls.

"The outside looked much nicer and even then, it wasn't that cleaned up," you took note.

Okkotsu told you, "It was under construction but they suddenly stopped it because of some sort of scandal."

You pushed your bottom lip out and raised your eyebrows in surprise. You weren’t expecting him to know that information, especially when neither of you did research beforehand.

"I didn't think you'd know that," you commented.

"Well there's this," he held a paper next to his head.

"Oh," you became beady-eyed, "I thought you knew it from the top of your head."

Okkotsu's eyes mirrored yours, "Ahah no, I don't keep up with stuff like this."

You returned to normal and glanced at the date on the newspaper. You read out loud that construction of the building had started 7 years ago but was stopped almost a year later due to the company that owned the building. They were exposed for severely underpaying their workers.

The building hasn't been worked on ever since that day, and you were shocked that it wasn't taken down already. There was also a high school nearby, which would explain the random trash and how it wasn't completely dusty. Teenagers must come to the building to hang out or ditch school.

"Do you want to split up from each other?"

"S-split up?" Okkotsu nervously repeated.

You nodded, "You have Rika to protect you, and I should be able to hold off the cursed spirit, if I encounter it, until you reach me. We've been training so you can do the same without Rika, so she'll be a last-resort option. We'll give each other a call if we notice anything. Does that sound okay to you?"

Hesitantly, Okkotsu agreed to split off from you. The boy kept his phone in his free hand so that he'd be able to reach you faster. On the other hand, you had drawn you sword before you headed into the left building.

You managed to clear the first three floors without any sign of the cursed spirit. You didn't think that Okkotsu had encountered it because you neither received any message or felt a massive increase in cursed energy.

"So it's either on this floor or with him..." you opened up a door that led to a long empty room. It seems like it would've been used for faculty meetings.

You turned around and jumped in your spot at the sight of a face in front of yours. Emerald green eyes intensely stared back at you, who was utterly shocked.

"Hm? They finally sent a sorcerer. Geto-sama said not to do anything yet, but that's too bad."

"Wha-"

The girl immediately took 2 kunai into her hands and cut both of your arms. You acted on reflex by swinging your sword. However, the girl only flipped herself away from your range.

You looked at the fellow teenager in front of you. She was probably two inches taller than you, had emerald green irises, long blonde hair tied in two ponytails, and was in an outfit that was awfully... revealing.

The mid-waisted jean shorts and tight cropped tank top left nothing to the imagination. You would've said that the girl in front of her was pretty, but it was certainly not the right place nor time to. Not to mention that you were injured because of this blonde girl.

"Who are you?" you interrogated.

"Oh, you look just like her," she noticed your eyebrows furrow. "Mmmm, yeah. I'm looking at ya and you're a bit too similar. Oh, right~ I might as well give you my full name since you're not gonna leave here. Iseri Sayua is the name."

Iseri speedily threw the four kunai at Amaya, and you felt like Maki was the one throwing them because of how you had almost no time to react. You used your sword to deflect the blades, but it left you open to a kick by Iseri.

You coughed as you rolled on the dusty floor, "W-why? I thought that..."

"Yeah, you thought there'd be a cursed spirit here, right? That's the thing, Geto-sama would've taken the cursed spirit in if there was one."

"Geto-sama?"

"No one you need to think about for now. Now, come and fight for your life."

You saw the sickening smile on the green-eyed girl's face. Never did she think that you would be fighting a curse user, especially on a mission like this.

As the two of you fought, you were stuck defending yourself from Iseri's hand combat. By the way the older girl swiftly moved, it was clear that she was efficiently trained.

"Too slow," Iseri whispered right in your ear before kicking you right through a wall with her cursed energy-infused leg.

You used your own cursed energy to strengthen your back. After your body finally landed, you cast your Sea Dragon's Nest. The barrier made of condensed water protected you from more of Iseri's kunai.

"So, you have a water-based cursed technique," Iseri laughed, amused. "How sick of the higher-ups for sending someone like you here."

"Why do this?" you asked as you slowly stood up. Pain rippled throughout your body.

"Back with the questions? Huh... simply because I'm a piece of shit, isn't that right? Is that what you're gonna say?"

"You may be, but I don't personally know you," Iseri was caught off-guard when you suddenly dropped the barrier. "I don't know what your whole deal is, but what I do know is that I won't be kicked around for nothing!"

A pool of water swarmed in front of you, and what was a head of concentrated water popped out. The condensed water took the form of a dragon and attacked Iseri.

You didn't get to see Iseri's condition until getting closer, going through the hole in the wall that broke from her being attacked by Sea Dragon's Roar.

Iseri was on all fours and soaking wet when she looked up at you. She laughed before she went into a coughing fit, "Y-you're in perfect position, you fool."

You were taken aback by the chains that suddenly held you down, causing you to let your sword slip through your fingers. Both your wrists and ankles were shackled so that you couldn't even touch the see-through walls that appeared suddenly in all directions.

Even though it was slightly foggy inside, you could easily tell that Iseri was on the other side. The older girl placed her hand on the wall between you with a taunting grin.

"Ironic, isn't it? The girl who has a water-based cursed technique will drown. Quite funny in my opinion," Iseri's words surprised you.

"Drown? What do you mean drown?"

“Drowning means drowning, duh.”

You tried shaking herself out of the chains but you couldn't. You attempted to drag her sword closer with your foot, but ended up pushing it just out of her reach. Grabbing your phone was also not possible because your hands couldn't reach low enough.

The blonde turned around and began walking away, "Tell me, why do you think my victims had those abrasions all over their bodies?"

You jumped when you felt your back become wet. You turned around to see the tank-like contraption having a pipe at the top that was beginning to pour out water. You didn't even know where the water was coming from but didn't currently care. Whatever you were trapped in didn't allow you to manifest your cursed energy.

"No don't-! Damn it! How am I gonna get out!?" you continued trying to break yourself free even though the effort was fruitless. The water had already reached the level of her ankles when you began yelling again. "OKKOTSU! OKKOTSU, CAN YOU HEAR ME!? I NEED YOUR HELP!"

Yelling, stomping her foot, shaking the chains— all of your efforts didn't seem to work. You could only watch as the water had risen past your knees and closer to the top of your legs.

'Am I gonna die this way?'

Tears formed at your waterline as the situation was setting in. The water was rising fast and you couldn't do anything. There was no space to use your technique if you could use your cursed energy, and you couldn't even grab your weapon.

All you could do was plead for Okkotsu to hear your desperate cries. You didn't want to place any blame on him, so you ended up feeling regretful.

"I shouldn't have split us up, huh?" you bit your lip when the water level was up to your waist.

Another pipe appeared and also began pouring water at the same rate. The water was increasing now at double the speed it was before. You knew it would reach above your head soon.

But the boy who would be considered your knight in shining armor appeared. Okkotsu looked at the sight in front of him in fear. He froze up seeing that you were in a helpless state.

"Y/N-san!" he ran up and placed his hand on the clear wall.

"Your sword!" you yelled as you raised your head. The blood-tainted water was now almost at your shoulders. "Use your sword!"

Okkotsu immediately unsheathed his weapon and tried breaking down the incredibly hard glass. He didn't notice that he didn't even scratch it when continuing to hit it with his katana. Although it was glass, the fact that it was Iseri’s cursed technique made it difficult to break.

“I-I’ll get you- I’ll-!”

You felt the water at the back of your tilted head, Okkotsu's words drowned out. The water was rising fast, so you continued taking in as much air as she could. However, it wasn't long until you were completely submerged, your tears washed into the water around you.

WRITTEN: 03/09/2022

#୨୧ [ loving you ] #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #yuuta x reader #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #okkotsu x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[minastras]

a match made in heaven jake sim's brain // heeseung

Your best friend Jake Sim has been trying to set you up with his floormate Heeseung for months. You finally agree to let him introduce you both at his fancy college’s party, but things don’t quite go as planned.

at a glance: gender-neutral reader, university au, fluff, zero plot

words: 6.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, date-rape drugs (no one gets drugged)

——————————

You usually liked studying with your best friend Jake — he was good company and you helped each other out — but sometimes he was in a chatty mood and refused to shut the hell up. It made it hard to focus. Today was one of those days.

“I cannot possibly stress enough how much I don’t want to go,” you deadpanned after his third attempt to invite you to his party, trying to sound firm but coming across more like a petulant child than anything else.

“It’ll be fun, I promise,” Jake said, holding out his pinky finger to you over the table. You stared at his hand in distrust, but he was undeterred. He added, “and Heeseung will be there.”

“Who?”

“The guy I’m setting you up with? Keep up,” he chided, snapping his fingers. 

You put down your pen and held up one finger in protest. “I heard you. I meant I never actually agreed to that. You just suggested it.”

Heeseung was one of Jake’s friends who lived on the same floor as him. You’d never met him before — you didn’t run in the same circles — but Jake had been talking your ear off about him for the last two months. About him being “your dream man”, which made you mime throwing up every time Jake said it.

He grinned smugly at you. “And then you lost our bet,” he said, confident, knowing he had this argument in the bag. It wasn’t even a good one either. You two had bet on, of all things, the goddamn weather.

You sighed, much more dramatically than necessary, and locked your pinky with his. “Fine. I’ll go.” Curse you and your stupid code of honour that didn’t let you go back on your word.

——————————

Every step you took towards Jake’s college imbued you with more and more regret. Why did you always give in to him?

Jake was the last person you’d expected to become friends with. On the surface, he seemed like your stereotypical residential college, or resco, kid: smart, sociable, and rich. Before you met him, you’d never met a resco kid you liked. Maybe you were too judgemental, but you felt justified in your dislike of them. They were all bratty, entitled, stuck up, and painfully unaware of their privileges. Except him.

When you first met him, you were having a breakdown on the curb outside the diner where you worked. Your boss was cutting back your hours and you were a tenth of a GPA point away from losing your scholarship. You were starting to think you should just drop out. He was walking by with a few of his resco friends, and, out of the whole group, he was the only one who stopped to ask if you were alright. And he gave you his number.

You texted him when you got home that night, as he’d made you promise to do, thanking him for listening to your tragic tale of woe and apologising for the trouble. You didn’t really expect anything to come out of it. But by the next day, he’d secured you a second job picking up shifts at the campus bookstore. So, you thought as you arrived at his resco, that’s why you always gave into him.

The building was massive and ornate, with a perfectly landscaped front garden complete with a three-tiered marble fountain and a private tennis court. No matter how many times you visited it, it always stunned you. You steeled yourself and walked through the front door.

Instantly, you started searching for Jake. He’d promised he’d only make you stay long enough to meet Heeseung, and, if you really hated him (or the party), he’d bring you to McDonald’s.

“Y/N!” Jake emerged from the throng of partygoers and ran over to you with a can of beer in his hand. You felt your shoulders relax at the mere sight of him. He was beaming as he pulled you into a quick hug. “You came.”

“Of course I did. I promised,” you said. Before you could say anything else, the amorphous blob of partiers began pulling him back in. At least three different girls were trying to get his attention. You held your tongue and bit back a laugh.

“I’ll just be a minute,” he said apologetically, looking pointedly at one of the girls.

You took the hint. “It’s fine. You don’t have to babysit me,” you said, desperately wanting him to babysit you. He quickly disappeared, absorbed back into the crowd. You made your way to the kitchen, which seemed to be the least populated room on the ground floor. It was empty aside from one guy making himself a drink and two drunk girls whispering to each other at the kitchen island.

“Hey,” the guy said. It took you a while to realise he was talking to you. “I’m Hyeongjin. Can I get you a drink?”

You smiled. “Oh, I’m alright. But thank you.” Behind him, another guy had walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Are you sure? You look like you could use a drink.” He was clearly ignoring you because he’d already started pouring you something, although he seemed sober enough.

“No thanks. I don’t drink,” you said politely.

Hyeongjin took a step towards you and handed you a cup. “I made it just for you, so you have to take it,” he insisted, winking. This was why you didn’t like resco kids.

“I really would rather not,” you repeated, taking an equal step away. Your back hit the kitchen cabinet.

He forced the cup into your hand. “At least try it.”

The fridge door abruptly slammed shut. “Jin, they said no,” the fridge guy said firmly, subtly positioning himself between you and Hyeongjin. He took the cup from you and set it down on the counter. “Don’t drink that. He put something in it,” he told you, evidently having been observing this entire exchange. You weren’t going to anyway, but you nodded all the same.

“Fuck you, man. No, I didn’t,” Hyeongjin retorted, immediately turning combative.

“You did. I saw you.” Fridge guy reached forward, too quick to be blocked, and snatched a small blister pack of pale green pills out of Hyeongjin’s jacket pocket. One was missing. He held it up and set his jaw. “Are you done yet? Or are you going to keep denying it?”

Hyeongjin’s gaze flickered from you to fridge guy and then back to you. He looked like he was itching for a fight, but he soon left without another word. You exhaled.

Fridge guy turned back to you, all the anger in his eyes evaporating in an instant. You’d seen him in the foyer earlier with Jake. He was cute. Strikingly so, actually, enough to make you nervous. “Are you alright?”

“I’m good. Thank you for your help,” you said. He dismissed your thanks with a wide smile and a flick of his wrist. He’d looked scary earlier, cold and intimidating, but his smile was instantly disarming. “Sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know Jake Sim? He dragged me here tonight, and I don’t really know anyone else here.”

He laughed. “I think he might be in the games room. I’ll help you find him.” Fridge guy led the way, all the while checking on you constantly to make sure you were still following him. “So, why did Jake drag you to this party?” he asked, making conversation, opening the door to the games room. Alas, it was empty. There was an expensive video game system and massive TV, driving rig, billiards table, and walls lined with shelves and shelves of games.

“He’s been trying to set me up with his friend for ages,” you replied. You kind of wanted to just stay here, hide, and wait out the rest of the party by yourself, but fridge guy had already closed the door and you were too shy to say anything.

“Oh? Who’s the friend?”

“Some guy called Heeseung,” you said with a shrug.

Fridge guy smiled sheepishly and folded his arms, leaning back against the wall of the narrow corridor outside the games room. He was standing close enough to you that you were acutely aware of his presence. “Oh, in that case, hi. I’m Heeseung. You must be Y/N.”

You were going to murder Jake Sim. How had he managed to pester you incessantly about this guy for months and not once mention Heeseung was the best-looking man you’d ever see? Better question: why did he only show you the ugliest possible pictures of someone he was trying to set you up with?

“I guess Jake fancies himself quite the matchmaker,” Heeseung mused, laughing to break the tension, and you quickly realised you hadn’t said a word in well over twenty seconds. You buried your head in your hands, feeling the heat in your face. You got flustered so easily; it was one of your least favourite things about yourself. “Did he make you promise to stay until you met me?” he said mercifully, saving you the stress of having to continue the conversation.

You took a small breath to try and compose yourself. “Yeah. I’m guessing he told you the same thing?” you asked. He nodded. You started to think you wouldn’t ever get around to murdering Jake because you were going to die of humiliation first.

Before your embarrassment could spiral, however, Heeseung cleared his throat to get you to look up at him. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his black jeans, which gave him a nice masculine posture. He was so tall.

“Well, since we’ve both fulfilled our promises to Jake,” he started hesitantly, suddenly sounding a little unsure of himself, “do you want to go for a drive?”

——————————

Heeseung led you out to the driveway through the back exit and to his car. He didn’t open the passenger door for you, which you liked. You sat with your hands folded neatly in your lap as he checked his mirrors, rolled down the windows, and turned on the engine. There was something weirdly intimate about being in another person’s space — their house, their car, even the zone of the library they studied in the most — and watching the way they moved around in it. The familiarity, the assuredness, the practised routine motions. Or maybe that was just you. It was past midnight by now and slightly too cold to have the windows down.

“Which college do you stay in?” he asked, pulling out of the driveway. 

“Oh, I’m not resco,” you corrected, “I live on fifth near the west lawn.”

He apologised swiftly, turning out of the cul-de-sac and onto the main road. “Jake told me you’re a scholar, so I guess I assumed.” He had stacks of silver rings on his fingers, and you couldn’t stop staring at them as his hands moved on the steering wheel.

It was a cold night, and the air was sharp and crisp. Both of you fell silent for a while, him focusing on driving and you watching the empty streets whiz past, leaning out of the window slightly to feel the wind on your face. Like a dog. You retreated and put your seatbelt back on. He smiled at you, amused. You looked at him questioningly.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and turning back to the road, “you’re cute.”

You were sure you were blushing — you could feel your cheeks burning — but you prayed it was too dark for him to notice. “Thanks for getting me away from the party,” you finally said after a while, “and for earlier.”

“It’s really fine. You looked like you needed some fresh air, anyway,” he said, dismissing your gratitude for a second time. Neither of you mentioned Hyeongjin. “Should we just drive around, or do you want to get a bite to eat? I’m not sure what’s still open.”

“There’s a diner two streets over that only closes at two,” you suggested. You knew that because you used to work there; that was where you and Jake met. Three weeks after your boss cut your hours he’d let you go completely, and how it was even still up and running you didn’t know. You hadn’t been back since.

“The one Jake found you crying outside of?” Heeseung asked, seemingly without thinking. “Sorry,” he added hastily. “Jake has never told me anything ever.”

“The one and only,” you smiled in your own self-deprecating way, pointing in the direction of the diner. “I see my reputation precedes me.”

You were really starting to regret not bringing a coat or jacket with you. He noticed this immediately. “Are you cold? Hold on.” As soon as he put the car in park, he shrugged off his black jacket and handed it to you. You put it on with a thank you while he switched off the engine. It was soft and warm and smelt like soy wax and sandalwood.

The diner was completely empty aside from the single employee on the clock. You didn’t recognise him; he must have joined after you were sacked. Aside from him, though, everything was exactly how you remembered it to be. Outside, it had started to rain.

Heeseung let you order for him since you were the expert (his words), but he didn’t let you pay. You made yourselves comfortable in a corner booth while you waited. The tabletop was slightly sticky, the window overlooked an extremely picturesque back alley dumpster, and the fifties-themed decor was more cheap costume party than retro. Yes, the diner hadn’t changed at all.

“Nice view,” he said sarcastically, looking out the window. What had begun as a drizzle had swiftly evolved into a downpour. He fiddled with his wallet as he spoke, his hands and rings distracting you more than you would like to admit.

“Yeah, in hindsight this probably wasn’t the best place to bring you to,” you acquiesced. Strangely enough, though, the longer you looked out the same window, the more the view started to become pleasing to the eye. The rain-slicked cobblestones and brick walls glistened and shone as they reflected the amber light of the streetlamps overhead, lending even the dingy alley an almost other-worldly feel.

“It’s actually perfect,” he said, watching you instead of the view now. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing. His eyes were warm and brown and doe-like, the kind of eyes that made you feel like he liked you a bit better than anyone else when he looked at you.

The employee arrived with your order right then: two plates of apple crumble with vanilla ice cream. His name tag read Dylan, but you knew the diner only had six nametags and rotated between them. Whoever clocked in the earliest had first-dibs on their identity that day; you usually ended up being Alex. 

“Please tell me Jake’s told you things about me that don’t make me sound pathetic,” you joked, rolling (or struggling to roll) up the too-long sleeves of Heeseung’s jacket.

He set down his fork and gestured to your hands. You held them out and he rolled the sleeves up for you, making you blush again. You must’ve looked surprised because he immediately apologised and let go of your wrists, as if he hadn’t realised what he was doing. He smiled sheepishly and started apologising.

“It- it’s fine,” you stuttered, bottom lip between your teeth. His fingers had felt cold against your skin. He apologised again and began fiddling with the silver chain of his one long dangly earring while you pretended to inspect the salt shaker (you didn’t want to look at him, he made you nervous). Even in the dimly-lit, mildly dingy diner, the rings on his hands caught the light.

He watched you stare at the salt for a polite length of time, amused by your shyness, before asking, “What are you thinking about?”

You coughed and dropped the salt shaker. “About what I was like when I used to work here. My freshman year, really,” you replied. “It’s a weird feeling, growing up.”

“I get that. It must have been difficult,” he said thoughtfully. You shrugged, not really knowing what to say. “I had a hard enough time adjusting to resco. I can’t imagine what you and Jake went through, having to move countries on top of that.”

You were just about to reply when his phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” he remarked.

“I lost Y/N,” Jake’s panicked voice cut cleanly through the background noises of the party around him over Heeseung’s speakers.

Heeseung looked up at you and smiled, conspiratorial, holding a finger to his lips. You nodded in agreement. “Well, hello to you too,” he said. 

Jake didn’t even acknowledge the provocation. He was a good friend. “Where are you? You gotta help me look for them.”

“I barely know what they look like because you show me the shittiest pictures of them. How am I supposed to help you?” Heeseung countered. So it wasn’t just you, then. 

“Hee, I’m serious,” Jake pressed. The worry in his voice immediately made you feel bad about messing with him.

“I’m safe, Jakey. We’re at the diner,” you interjected.

The fact that you and Heeseung were together, and together at a secondary location, didn’t seem to register for Jake. His concern for you was sweet. “I’ve been calling and texting you non-stop for twenty minutes! Why didn’t you answer?” he chastised.

“My phone is broken as you will recall, seeing as you were the one who broke it,” you retorted. He’d dropped your phone over a balcony and straight onto hard concrete two days ago when he was playing with it. It had fallen four storeys and practically disintegrated on impact. Heeseung suppressed a laugh by shoving his last bite of apple crumble into his mouth.

“I forgot,” Jake whined, relenting. But he quickly became serious again. “I couldn’t find you. I was really worried.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you. I’m safe, I promise,” you assured him. “And thank you for checking up on me! I love you.”

Jake sighed, but he seemed to have calmed down. “Love you too. Love you, Hee.”

“Love you more, Jake,” Heeseung echoed, and then hung up. He turned back to you, giggling. “I don’t think it even occurred to him that you’re with me right now.”

You laughed. “Me neither.” Not-Dylan came to clear your empty plates, an obvious hint to tell you to get the hell out so he could start closing up. It was about one in the morning, an hour before closing. 

Heeseung glanced at his watch. “I’m surprisingly not tired at all,” he said vaguely, playing with his earring again, like he wasn’t ready for the night to end but didn’t know how to ask you not to leave.

You followed him out of the diner, feeling shy. “I don’t want to go home yet either,” you admitted.

——————————

“I know a place we can go,” Heeseung said as you both climbed back into his car and he started the engine. He didn’t roll down the windows this time and turned the heat up high (it had gotten much colder). You felt a little guilty for taking his jacket, but he’d refused to take it back when you had offered.

“By all means, lead the way.”

The place was a grassy hill behind one of the other rescos. He pulled up at the base of it and hopped out, taking the blankets and plastic tarp he kept in the backseat with him.

It was a three minute climb up to the top of the hill overlooking your entire university town. Although the streets below were gleaming with light, filled with pinpricks of white and yellow that beamed through the windows and curtains of houses and shopfronts, the sound didn’t carry. From atop the hill, you couldn’t hear any loud music from the multiple parties that were surely raging on, any talking from the groups of drunk students wandering from club to club, or any cars weaving their way down roads and alleys. Barring the occasional whistle of the cold breeze and the quiet rustling of autumn leaves the breeze brought, it was quiet.

“Here it is,” he announced, with a sweeping gesture and a slightly nervous giggle, “the best view in town.” You didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were inclined to believe him.

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” you told him, helping him spread the tarp out on the wet grass. It was more than big enough for the both of you. “Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes, when I need to be alone,” he answered, passing you one of the two blankets in his arms. You both wrapped up to shield yourselves from the biting winds, much fiercer up on the hill than they had been at street level, strong enough to make your eyes water.

The thing about Jake having tried to set you up with Heeseung for so long was that you already knew all the basic details about him: his age, his major, his hobbies, his hometown, and even whether or not he had siblings. How were you supposed to make casual conversation with a stranger with whom you were already so well acquainted?

“It’s a nice night.” Not like that, that’s for sure. You laughed despite yourself, admitting to him, “I don’t know what to talk about.”

Heeseung rested his chin on his left hand. “I was just about to say the same thing. Jake might have shot himself in the foot a little there.”

His shoulder was almost touching yours, albeit separated by two thick flannel blankets. He smelled faintly like soy and sandalwood, just like his jacket. His eyes sparkled, tearing slightly from the wind, large and captivating as he looked at you. He was so close.

“I’m sorry I said the thing earlier about you crying outside of the diner,” he said after a few seconds. “I didn’t mean to.”

You shook your head and glanced away, because you could feel yourself starting to get nervous again. “No, don’t be. It was funny.”

“Do you know how worried Jake was about you that day?” he asked, playing idly with his rings.

You and Jake rarely talked about how you met after the first few weeks or so of you knowing each other, mainly because he knew you felt like you owed him for his help and he didn’t like you bringing that up. “He stayed up for two hours calling people to get you that job. I think you reminded him of himself when he first moved here.”

When you didn’t say anything in response, he pulled at his earring, stared up at the night sky, and sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“It’s fine,” you said, evidently much worse at controlling your expressions than you thought you were. Or perhaps he was just good at reading people.

There was a long silence. “You don’t have to feel bad that Jake helped you. He did it of his own accord,” he pointed out sagely.

This was a familiar conversation for you; you had it with yourself all the time. “Did Jake tell you to say that?” you asked.

He was still watching you; you could see him doing so out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was intense, and you were squirming under it. “No, I just thought you needed to hear it,” he said.

“Oh. That’s really sweet. Thank you.”

Both of you fell silent again. Then, he lay down and pulled his blanket up to his chin, like he was in bed.

“What are you doing?” you asked, bemused.

He looked up at you with a boyish grin. “Stargazing. Come join me.”

So you lay down on the tarp right beside him, surprised that there were even any visible stars upon which to gaze. The moon was full and bright, and the night sky was clear enough to see at least a few dozen stars. 

“I had fun today,” he said after a few seconds, staring up at the sky, “much more than I usually do at parties.”

“I did too.” You turned to look at him, but he caught you staring and you immediately looked away, changing the subject. “But I thought you liked partying.”

“Not really. Not everyone in resco is a party animal, you know,” he said in mock-offence.

You laughed, counting the stars. “I saw you with Jake in the foyer, though! You looked like you fit right in.”

“That means I’m a good actor,” he joked, before becoming serious, turning onto his side. You did too, coming face-to-face with him. He glanced down at your lips, not pointedly, but obviously and for long enough that you noticed it. “No, I just tend to go along with it. It makes things easier.”

“I get that,” you nodded, looking away momentarily so you could think. He was staring right into your eyes, and, with his face just inches away from yours and eyes that mesmerising, it was a little too much for you to handle. You wondered if he was as flustered by the eye contact as you were. “So what do you actually like to do?” you asked.

He turned your question over in his head, propping himself up on his elbow. “Music, mostly. I spend a lot of time in the studio. Jake told me you do too.”

You hesitated for a bit before suggesting, while trying and probably failing to sound casual, “Maybe we can hang out together in the studio someday.”

“Yeah, let’s. It’ll be fun,” he smiled, leaning in ever so slightly. He wanted to do something, to make a move on you, maybe, but he didn’t get the chance because it abruptly started raining again. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mumbled under his breath, while the rain pissed down around you. For all of his flaws, Zeus did have great comedic timing. 

Part of you wanted to kiss him right then and there, and it seemed like he wanted you to too, because neither of you moved or made any attempts to shield yourselves from the weather for at least a few seconds. Then, you sneezed. He laughed, and so did you.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you said breathlessly, stumbling to your feet. You and him draped your blankets over your shoulders in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold. He picked up the tarp, gestured for you to come closer, and wrapped the tarp loosely around you both. You were both already absolutely drenched, so it wasn’t doing much to keep you dry, but at least it shielded you from more rain.

“Is this alright?” he asked, his arms around your shoulders, chest pressed against your back. Something about the way he looked down at you made you feel warm even as you shivered, chilled to the bone by both the downpour and the howling night winds. You nodded.

It was only mildly challenging to make it down the hill, now slick and muddy with rain, bundled up together in the tarp. Neither of you could stop giggling at the absurdity of your situation even after you’d made it back to his car. He couldn’t unlock the doors fast enough.

Rainwater dripped from your hair and formed puddles under your feet as you sat there for a minute or two, the heater on full blast. Your teeth were chattering.

“Is your car ruined now?” you asked, warming your hands on the nearest vent.

“It’s fine. I’m junking it soon anyway,” he said, wiping his hands on his t-shirt so he wouldn’t get the leather of his steering wheel wet before putting his car in drive. He was shivering. “I’ll take you back to resco. The party should’ve wound down already.”

You leant forward to tilt one of the vents towards him. You hadn’t even noticed he’d pointed both of them at you earlier. “Jake’s going to have a lot of questions,” you remarked.

He unlocked and passed you his phone, keeping his other hand on the wheel. “You can call him and let him know we’ll be home soon,” he said. Jake was saved as ‘the jingling fool’ in his contacts — you called the right person only because you knew Jake’s number by heart — which made you smile. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hee, buddy, where are you? Are you coming home?”

“Hey Jakey,” you greeted, putting him on speaker.

His confusion was palpable. “Y/N? Huh? What? Where are you?” Heeseung threw his head back and laughed gleefully, leaning over the centre console to say hi.

“We’re on the way back,” you said, laughing too, not bothering to explain yourself. “Is the party over yet?”

Jake was still processing. “Uh- wait- well, there aren’t many people left, so we’ll chase them out in a bit. I’m about to head upstairs myself. Are you with Heeseung? Like, Heeseung Heeseung?”

“Yes, they are. Keep up, man,” Heeseung teased, shaking his head in mock disapproval even though Jake couldn’t see him.

“We got caught in the rain,” you added, nonchalant.

“What- okay,” Jake sighed, lost. “I’ll get some towels and clothes ready for you.”

���—————————

Heeseung and Jake lived on the highest floor of the resco in a private apartment rather than regular dorm rooms which they shared with two other students, Jay and Sunghoon. You’d met them once or twice, but Jake usually came over to your place to hang out, not the other way around. Jake lent you a change of clothes and let you use his bathroom for a hot shower.

By the time you returned to the living room, Heeseung was already sitting on the sofa with Jake, the pair deeply engrossed in what appeared to be a serious conversation. When they heard you close Jake’s bedroom door behind you, they looked up in perfect unison and pulled apart immediately, as if they’d both been caught doing something wrong.

“Hi,” Heeseung greeted, seeming slightly and uncharacteristically awkward. His hair was wet and messy and adorably stuck to his forehead. He was now in a black t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay. The shower helped,” you answered, “you?” You weren’t sure why both of you had suddenly become so stiff and uneasy, and you also didn’t notice Jake giggling into his hand as he watched the two of you.

“Yeah, I’m all good too,” Heeseung smiled, again weirdly stilted. You gave him a thumbs-up, mentally kicking yourself for that even before you'd raised your hand. A thumbs-up? In this economy? Whatever they’d been talking about earlier, he turned to Jake and unsubtly changed the subject. “So, how was the party?”

“Yeah, Jakey, how was the party? You looked pretty popular with the ladies,” you teased, grinning. Of course that didn’t surprise you — Jake was handsome and sweet and had charisma coming out of his ears. 

“Ew. Don’t say ‘ladies’. It sounds sexist,” Jake said, deflecting. You laughed but continued waiting for an answer, not willing to let him off the hook so easily. So did Heeseung, who wiggled his eyebrows at him in anticipation. Jake capitulated, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine, whatever! Nothing came of it. The girl I was talking to ditched me when her ex-boyfriend showed up.”

Heeseung winced. “Sorry, dude.”

“It’s her loss,” you said.

Jake waved away your concerns, putting his arm around your shoulder and messing up your hair. “Yeah, well, I got to spend tonight babysitting my idiot friends instead, so it all worked out in the end.”

The conversation lulled for a bit, but it was a comfortable silence. Heeseung broke it when he nudged your shoulder with his to get your attention. “Do you want to get dinner with me next week?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said, and then turned to Jake expectantly.

Jake snorted at your obliviousness. “I think Hee was just inviting you.”

“Oh. Right.” You felt your cheeks heat up. Heeseung took a sip of his drink and nodded in confirmation, not once breaking eye contact with you.

“I’m really good at this. Should I start a matchmaking service?” Jake asked, smug. He was going to tease you mercilessly about this later.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, cupid,” Heeseung said, before turning back to you. “Are you tired? You look exhausted.” You weren’t sure how long he’d been watching you try to keep your eyes open, but it made you shy all the same.

“A little,” you conceded. “You must be too. It’s been a long day.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Jake offered, standing up. You looked at him quizzically. His gaze shifted slowly from you to Heeseung and then back to you before he realised. He coughed, awkward. “On second thought, I am really tired. Hee, maybe you can walk them home.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Heeseung agreed, pretending not to have noticed to save him the embarrassment. “I’ll go grab my keys.”

While Heeseung dipped back into his bedroom, Jake turned to you. “I told you,” he said with a shit-eating grin on his face, pulling you to your feet. “I told you you’d like him.”

“I didn't even say anything,” you said, feeling defensive and very perceived.

“You’re giving him gargantuan heart eyes,” he countered, punching you lightly in the shoulder. “Although to be fair, they are mutual.”

“Gargantuan,” you echoed mockingly, rolling your eyes, but you didn’t even try to refute either of his observations.

He punched your shoulder again. “Shut up. I’ve been working on my stupid paper for a week. Every time I close my eyes I see a thesaurus.”

“Ready to go?” Heeseung asked you, returning from his room, spinning his keys around one finger. He had a forest green sweatshirt in his hand.

Jake grabbed you by the shoulders before you could answer, stopping you from turning around. “He really likes you too, Y/N. Don’t get in your head,” he whispered to you, suddenly solemn. You knew he was being serious, for once. You thanked him before you left.

——————————

“You live on fifth, right?”

“Yeah, it’s ten minutes away that way,” you said, pointing down the road. Your shoes were still wet, and you didn’t have any socks on (the ones you had been wearing were in a holey plastic bag on your arm with the rest of your clothes that was currently dripping on the pavement as you walked). It was a highly unpleasant sensation. “Thanks for walking me home.”

“Of course. Here, it’s cold,” Heeseung said, offering you the green sweatshirt in his hand. You realised only then that he’d brought it along with him for you.

“You should wear it. I have this,” you said, holding up the strings of Jake’s hoodie. It was fleece-lined and surprisingly warm. He looked slightly dejected, although he tried to shake it off. “But thank you!” you added in haste.

When he was done putting on his sweatshirt, he began, “Can I ask you something?”

Before he could ask his question, you stopped him and gestured for him to lean down so you could fix his hair, not really thinking straight. It only took a few seconds, but by the time you were finished, he was blushing furiously. He turned away from you to fan his face.

“I’m sorry, I-” You’d practically jumped his bones. Your face was burning too.

“No, it’s fine!” he said, rushing to reassure you. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

You looked away, wondering if you’d be strong enough to pry off the nearby manhole cover by yourself so you could jump down into the sewer like the rat you were. As the two of you walked, him on the outside of the pavement next to the road, you snuck a glance at him. He had his hands pressed to his reddening cheeks, the sleeves of his green sweatshirt half-covering his fingers, and a huge, shy smile on his face. He was adorable. And he’d caught you staring.

“So what did you want to ask me?” you asked, looking away and playing with your hoodie strings and feigning innocence.

“Uh- well, it might be a weird question,” he prefaced, rubbing the back of his neck. You gestured for him to continue. He cleared his throat. “Is there anything going on between you and Jake?”

It wasn’t that weird of a question. Weird for him to ask, maybe, given the circumstances, but it was a question you were rather accustomed to getting. “Everyone always asks us that,” you said, amused.

“I mean, you are wearing his clothes right now,” he pointed out.

“Touché,” you conceded, before you realised you still hadn’t given him an actual answer. “We’re just friends. I’m always with him because he’s the only friend I have here.” It was true; since you’d moved here a year and a half ago, you’d collected your fair share of acquaintances but never managed to make any real friends apart from Jake. You were always too busy studying or working, and you were well aware that you weren’t exactly the easiest person to get to know.

You’d reached your apartment building. He stopped walking. “But you don’t have feelings for him?” he asked, hopeful.

“No, never,” you replied, placing your hand on your heart in a faux-serious display of honesty. He beamed. 

“Perfect.” He placed one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, closed his eyes, and leant in. You froze. When he felt your muscles tense up under his hands, he easily pivoted and kissed you on the cheek instead. “You okay?” he whispered, watching your expression closely, still smiling.

You looked away. “Yeah, I’m good, I- sorry.” God, you were such an idiot.

Now he was concerned. He smoothly tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch feather-light on your skin. “Too much too fast?” he said.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, and although the feeling of his hands on you was nice, you stepped away from him. He was going to think you were blowing him off, when in reality you were just- well, whatever you were.

If he was upset, he didn’t show it. He held out his hands to you, open, palms up, non-threatening. You placed your own on top of his, lacing your fingers together. He had taken off his rings. “Can I kiss your forehead?” he asked. You nodded. He took a small step towards you, running his thumbs over your knuckles, and gently pressed his mouth to your forehead right under your hairline before letting you go.

There was a strange feeling in your chest, like you were buzzing with light, and it was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. “Wait,” you blurted out. He glanced back at you. You reached for the crew neck of his sweatshirt, stood on your toes, and pulled him closer to you, bringing your lips to his. His mouth was as cold as his hands, but so were yours. 

After you pulled away he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again, deeper this time, before leaning down and resting his forehead against yours.

“Hello,” he said playfully.

You giggled. “Hi.”

“Jake would be proud of you for making the first move,” he mused, his hands still on your face. He wanted to move them down to your waist and hold you closer to him, but he decided not to push you too far.

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t want to think about Jake right now.”

Heeseung smirked. His breath fanned your face as he spoke. You had one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest, with his lean, broad-shouldered frame curled in around yours. “Yeah? What do you want to think about?”

You paused, biting your tongue, but you ultimately chose to say it anyway. “Whether you want to come and see me at work tomorrow,” you said, already wincing at the corniness of your words.

“That was so smooth,” he teased, making you blush even harder. “I’ll come. Are you still working at Think Tea?”

“How- oh, Jake told you. Yeah, I am,” you told him. “I’ll be on the clock the whole day tomorrow.”

He took your hand that was resting on his chest and brought it up to his mouth, pressing a small kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll be there,” he promised, smiling, still gently holding onto your wrist. He really did have a beautiful smile. The way his round eyes crinkled and narrowed, the way his cheeks rose, everything.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you said again.

“Of course. Good night.”

“Good night, Heeseung.”

You headed up the porch steps to the front door of your apartment building and turned around one last time. He was still standing on the pavement, hands in his pockets, watching you. You waved, he waved back, and you let yourself in.

——————————

thanks for reading <3

-minastras

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft hours #heeseung soft hours

[eruverse]

Another Ivan Braginsky headcanon

I keep perfecting my Ivan and I think this isn’t his final form yet but here it goes:

- Religion: none, but he’s no staunch atheist. He was a firm atheist during USSR era but these days he just doesn’t have ‘God in his daily life’ even though he keeps some superstitions and is respectful and even compliant of some Orthodox traditions during certain holidays. Some of his superstitions he developed on his own even, since he was a really sensitive child. Basically he doesn’t really think about it and is just a cultural observer.

- Sexuality: he just doesn’t think about it. Technically bi so he can get on with anyone and he has, but he thinks it’s useless for someone as old as he is to scrutinize one’s own sexuality very seriously. If he likes someone he’s either going to get it on or he’ll just suffer in silence, shit about sexuality. Is actually chill with any sexuality or kinks as long as it’s kept private — what he hates is the overt display of sexuality in public. Then he’ll start cursing ‘woke western culture’.

Regarding his romantic/sexual experiences: not as few as people think, not as many as people think. Neither prude nor promiscuous, but I would say those experiences tend to be on the more scarce end. He is not without drive but also isn’t desperate; can go a long time without sex. Contrary to popular belief, the USSR wasn’t his harem and he had probably the least sex out of all (or being one of the least promiscuous there). If sexual experiences are already scarce, the people who have ever been his actual lovers are even more so he probably can count them on one hand. Why? He is actually a distrustful person with a lot of paranoia so he hardly ever lets people in, though I would say, what he is even remotely desperate of is love (not necessarily romance though that is also nice). Therefore once he gets a lover he can stay committed for a long time, at least mentally if not technically. Ivan does not forget people and keeps dear ones close to his heart, and probably people who dislike him even closer.

- Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t look that miserable from outside. Or at least, if you think he is miserable enough he actually has more of that stuff kept inside. He contemplates his misery through books and pieces of literature he pores into, or when he’s being insomniac and contemplating shits. Other than that though, he doesn’t really show it; most other people cannot understand anyway, or will start misunderstanding stuff.

- For him, those who can still bemoan fate are both privileged and still doing well enough actually. But those who are at the brink of it? They suddenly just, go. Ivan might not see the light at the end of tunnel nine times out of ten but he has life, life, life to go through. Life goes on regardless even if you’re miserable; Ivan is a person like this.

- Accent: is capable of speaking accent-less English but keeps using Russian accent and even emphasizing stresses bc it scares people. Especially because he is so huge it throws people off.

- I once said he was ‘insane’. But I then wrote him in fanfics and he came off mostly eccentric instead, at least from the outside. Basically tho, he wouldn’t just go off right off the bat and hit people or anything; he can, and he will if provoked enough, but mostly it’s just threats which he doesn’t follow through either because he’s a slob, because he means it to be empty, or because it’s just fun. But if you speak to him it’ll be pretty apparent he has some loose screws in his head indeed, especially if you’re close. He kind of thinks it’s just ‘normal human state’ to be having some loose screws tho.

- Morbid sense of humor and downright demented at times. He thinks it’s normal but also will tell these kind of jokes a lot because it creeps people out and he knows it. He likes those reactions.

- Ivan is a man of many layers, and often ppl cannot determine whether what they see is the real Ivan or what he wants to show. That’s if they’re not close; those close to him will be able to hazard better guesses, but sometimes they’ll also miss terribly. Why’s that? No one knows. Ivan looks both like someone who overthinks things and not think at all at the same time. Maybe there’s no difference between these two!

- Part of the many layers is just protection: Ivan doesn’t trust you and he doesn’t even trust himself. It’s also the case tho that what ppl think of himself is often so much cooler than what he actually is and thus he just goes with that (tho sometimes he’s annoyed because hey it’s Too Different).

- Resident troll (if that’s what people wish). Will lie or hide stuff (if you deserve it). But often he’ll lie just because he can. Everyone lies, what’s the difference? Things are bad, but they’re the same bad everywhere else.

- Is both better and worse at things people accuse him of doing/being. But what is true is that he is a slob.

- Lets problems grow and procrastinates on solving them. When they kick him in the ass, he solves them badly and feels betrayed by fate.

- Is actually pretty generous. Just unreliable af at times (either from mismanagement, misremembering, prioritizing the wrong things… all kinds of things)

- Has both deep insecurities and deep pride. Funny that these things usually exist at the same time in people! He both wants to be like others (to fit in, to be accepted) and only being ‘himself’ because there’s no other way. Being himself, being different, because he is rejected anyway, what’s the catch?

- Will quote Russian poems or pieces of literature during situations that call for it (will refrain from mentioning specific poems here bc that says more abt me than abt Ivan Braginsky lmao)

- He’s not visibly excited about kids though will totally have his own if he could, maybe just one tho. Totally envies humans, including the fact that they’re able to permanently die.

#hetalia #aph russia #hws russia #my heacanon

[nyaagolor]

Werewolf AU

I'm just gonna allow myself to be fully cringe at this point. LFG. It's all under the cut :)

Nemona's family are the descendants of the Paldean emperor, who fell from grace and more or less disappeared after the Treasures Of Ruin + the catastrophe of the Great War with Kalos completely decked the economy and whatnot

The family inherited the king's wealth and political connections, which allowed them to maintain power / status / wealth until the point where they were able to secure themselves as a tech empire within the new capitalist system. Rich people stay rich and whatnot

But being descendants of the king came with extra baggage too-- the king was wildly unpopular and got cursed by basically every witch / mage / merchant / powerful artifact that existed in Paldea at the time. Dude just would not leave the cursed artifacts alone and managed to piss off every magical person and being on the continent so he has a litany of curses

The Treasures of Ruin were sealed and the king died, so a good 98% of the curses and hexes plaguing the king, his family, and Paldea as a whole disappeared. Over time, magic as a practice was mostly forgotten about as Pokemon filled the roles traditionally occupied by witches and warlocks, so everyone forgot about the curses. However, the family still has to deal with a few:

The king once angered a forest spirit by hunting within her woods and was cursed so that his and his bloodline's arrows never find their mark. Tragically this applies to pokeballs as well-- everyone in the family cannot successfully throw a pokeball no matter how hard they try

The king has lousy genetics which has managed to haunt them for centuries. That's not an actual magic thing unless you count being a rich European as a curse

There's also the whole werewolf thing, which is a little more complicated. It doesn't affect everyone in the family, for starters, and only ever affects the wives and daughters. I'm honestly still working on the specifics of the backstory for the whole thing, bc I want it to tie into the AU thematically and also give a reasoning behind who inherits and the curse and whatnot. I will keep yall posted on that one but also am taking ideas bc atm I got nothing

Anyway the curse is related to bloodline, so despite the circumstances for the curse and the mage who did it being ancient history, the curse still afflicts members of the family

It starts when young, and the shifting, because it's mostly driven by emotions, is completely involuntary. It's become family tradition to isolate any werewolf children from the outside world until they can control it / keep their emotions in check, which leads to most of the cursed children feeling lonely because they weren't able to go to school or play with other kids as a child. They do get to interact with anyone in the family though, as they know about the curse and can deal with it, as well as pokemon, who are strong enough to handle it. Don't want ur kid having a tantrum and biting someone with big ol fangs

Speaking of biting bc it's a curse it can't be passed to others by any means so dw about being bit. It'll hurt, sure, but you won't turn into a werewolf

Most cursed kids manage to control the shifting by the time they're around 10, and get to go to school and start playing with other kids around then. By this point they also know enough to not reveal the curse to anyone else

Shifting is dependent on the intensity of emotions like anger and fear so the family suspects it acts a bit like a stress / threat response. It also happens on a spectrum, so there's a pretty wide range of Wolfish-Ness that they can turn to depending on the circumstances. The only non-emotional shifting that can happen is on the full moon-- during the night they shift completely, having lost their minds and acting only on instinct. This is the "lock them in a room you can't reason with them" kinda thing

I see the full moon thing as the equivalent of sleepwalking or being heavily intoxicated. Occasionally there's a vague understanding of what's happening, but all their senses are off the charts and the cocktail of overstimulation, pain from the transformation, and insane bursts of adrenaline makes them unable to be reasoned with. During non-full moon shifting through they have far more control, provided they don't spiral and shift completely

The family does their best to keep anyone cursed out of the public eye and distance PR from them as much as possible, both for fear of their status and power being jeapordized and also because they fear what will happen to the cursed person if people find out

I'll add more later but these are my like. initial thoughts. I feel like the rest of the rival gang doesn't actually know about the curse yet, but roll with it when they do find out-- after realizing your friend's dad got mauled to death by your motorcycle lizard and watched his AI copy time travel I think "werewolves" are pretty low on the weirdness list

#werewolf au #nemona #pokemon sv #mod vex #vex art

[deathbecomesthem]

I'm going to change gears on this blog to talk about something totally unrelated to fandom, so feel free to scroll along. I'm going to talk about the upcoming US presidential election.

I've seen things floating around the old 'blr about how irresponsible it is for Americans to not vote from primarily non-American bloggers. I absolutely understand the outside perspective, and I don't necessarily disagree. But, I also disagree. If you'd like the perspective of a 40-something womanish American living in the Midwest with 2 teenagers, then here it is:

Voter suppression is the name of the game in the United States. This has always been true. This will always be true. We have very little impact on anything as individual voters. I cannot stress that enough. Do you know what the Electoral College is? It's ok if you don't, most Americans don't understand it, and that's absolutely done with intention here. If I live in a red county/state, there's actually very little point in me going to the polls and voting outside of the impact it will have on my local elections. In my viewpoint, land actually votes under the Electoral College. I am serious.

Gerrymandering is a plague in my state, and it absolutely keeps Republicans in power. There are large progressive strongholds here, massive cities that should easily take over the less populated red areas of my state. But our congressional districts boggle the mind. I would show you my district, but I don't want that information in the ether.

And none of this takes into account the blatantly racist/classist ways our elections are held in so many states with high populations of voters of color.

And we have, what, the option to vote for Joe-fucking-Biden again? And then what? Another emergency of a presidential election where democracy is on the line so we need to do our duty to the country and the world. Hold our noses and vote for another moderate that supports genocide and lines their pockets with lobbyists money? I have voted in every presidential election since 2000, and every time I hear the same song and dance about duty.

And I do the thing. I get the sticker. I volunteer at the polls and get cursed at by people in my community because they don't want my list of "activist judges" to vote for. And what does it get me? There is NO ACCOUNTABILITY.

We are scared, we are hungry, we are looking down the barrel of a gun. This country is held hostage, my friends. We are bleeding out. We can't afford the rent, the healthcare, the groceries.

ETA - I am considered an essential worker that deals in child welfare in my county. When I say I see how bad things are, I mean that.

#thanatos speaks #political #rant post #joe biden #2024 presidential election #long post

[lollytea]

FIRMLY OBSESSED with all the grimwalkers falling in love in some shape and form- with a witch/other means- each time they're created, they're genetically unable to follow in Belos footsteps </3

Yeah!! I always liked the idea that every grimwalker has had someone, not always a romantic interest, but someone who loved them, opened their eyes to what real love feels like, with that love being what eventually drives them to turn on Belos.

So, a parental figure, a friend, a lover, a child, an animal etc. Love comes in so many forms. I feel like Evelyn, in Belos' eyes, was the personification of the Boiling Isles itself and how it tempts and destroys humans, when all she did was love a boy. So every grimwalker had an "Evelyn", who "destroyed" them even if it wasn't always romantic. (Though romantic cases do incite a rage in Belos like no other.)

I like to imagine that the former Golden Guard's "Evelyn" was Darius. He was his mentee and I suppose he sorta became like a little brother figure to him. He was the person who motivated him to eventually deflect.

I cannot stress enough that when I refer to the grimwalkers' loved ones as being an "Evelyn" I'm speaking from Belos' perspective. But the fact of the matter is that no grimwalker will ever truly have something that perfectly mirrors what Caleb and Evelyn had. Because Caleb and Evelyn are long dead. And no matter how hard Belos tries, Caleb will never truly live again. Neither of them will.

The only "fate" at play here regarding every single grimwalker finding someone to love and betraying Belos as a result is the work of the hypothetical writer who loves cosmic irony. (I say hypothetical because idek if this is the canon case. I just love to run my mouth.)

But in universe? It's a coincidence. There's no destiny to speak of that leads them to their soulmate, nor a curse from the Devil himself to torment poor Philip Wittebane. It's just because the grimwalkers are people and it's in peoples' nature to love and be loved. And Belos is just here scratching his head wondering why the fuck this has happened every single time without fail, because he doesn't understand people. He hasn't been a person in centuries.

[ramshacklefey]

I am here to request more Mormon facts🎤

Your wish is my command! I'll even sort them into categories for you.

Amusing:

The fact that there weren't horses in the Americas until European settlers has caused serious problems for their claims that their book is historically accurate.

This has led some to speculate that when the book says "horses" it means "tapirs."

All Mormon men think they're Paladins: at age 12, every amab person is inducted into their priesthood which is supposed to literally bestow on them the power to do miracles in the name of God as long as they are acting in accordance with God's will and living righteously.

They make a big deal of their "sacred secrets" in the temples, mostly so the members don't find out that they're just masonic rituals with the serial numbers shaved off.

Actually their whole structure is basically just a more bizarre version of the masons.

Their mythology makes free will impossible (something I figured out when I was 12, much to the consternation of my youth group leaders)

They believe that the righteous (men) will eventually become Gods and get to start their own universes.

Their supposedly eternal and absolute rules about what constitutes modest dress have nevertheless semi-consistently been updated to keep up with contemporary fashion.

Less funny:

Salt Lake City, Utah, is an unbelievable hotbed of multilevel marketing schemes. Women trapped at home keep getting into them. I guess if you're caught up in one, it's easy to buy into another...

They're well known for community support within their group, but the Church itself is an international multi-billion dollar organization and never gives significant aid to members.

Everyone in the church is required to pay 10% of their (pre-tax) earnings directly to the church.

Every young man in the church is required to serve a 2 year, volunteer mission. They have to fund these themselves.

Church leadership is supposedly called by divine revelation, yet somehow they're almost all from the same enclave of families whose roots trace back to the founders of the church.

My youth group leader once tried to tell me that rock music was spiritually bad and instead I should be listening to musicals and opera. Because the lyrical content was more spiritually pure.

They're in the "we are fighting a literal war against the Forces of Evil" category of evangelicals, but it was to my immense disappointment that this did not mean there were any sexy demons around.

If they took their own morals seriously, they'd all be communists.

Not Remotely Funny:

The church has a truly massive endowment, and their fingers are in a lot of corporate and political pies.

When California was voting on gay marriage back on 2008, the church organized a concerted effort of members buying property in the state so they could vote against it.

Seriously, I cannot stress enough to you how much money and influence the church has. They just don't wave it around as much as some groups.

Joe Smith and his successor, Brigham Young, were pedophiles who used their church doctrine to force teenage girls to marry them.

They're one of the groups that believe peace in the Middle East is a harbinger of the apocalypse.

Yes, they really are that racist.

They encourage members to adopt Native children in order to "save them" from the curse of their ancestors.

They have one of the largest genealogical databases in the world, and they mostly use it to perform proxy baptisms on dead people, including massive numbers of holocaust victims.

Their culture normalizes and even valorizes child abuse by men. All of the most respected men in my congregation growing up regularly beat their kids. This was considered normal and even funny.

Abuse and bullying are rampant for young men on missions.

They're also ableist in the weirdest way. They believe that everyone's soul is a "perfected" version of their body, see. Any neurodivergent or mentally disabled people are "normal" souls trapped in defective bodies.

BYU (the church-owned university) has a rampant problem with suicides among queer students.

Utah has one of the highest rates of depression in the country, especially among women.

#mormons #mormonism #and this is still only scratching the surface