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back2bluesidex · 1 year ago

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J-Hope Fic Recommendations (18+)

If you are already following me for quite some time then you should know that I am a massive masochist and I like to torture myself by reading and writing angsty stories. So, most of the stories that I recommended are angsty as well (might as well have sad endings). So please carefully read the warnings before proceeding. Have a happy reading.

And please don't expect much from me. There are several other rec lists far better than mine. The only motive I had behind creating this list to promote some of the stories, which I think are very underrated. especially angsty ones. These stories are beautifully written so.. I just wanted to let the authors know how phenomenal of a job they have done (As a writer myself I know how much this actually means). Thanks to these amazing writers and I am grateful that they decided to share their work here with us.

[Minors please stay away from my blog!]

Key: F - Fluff, A- Angst, S- Smut, Y- Yandere, *- Personal Favorite

Oneshots

1. Ash from his fire by @filmcrystal - A, implied S, cheating au

It will break your heart so please proceed with caution.

2. Forbidden Fruit by @deepdarkdelights - A, Y

This one deals with several triggering topics. Hence, read the warnings carefully. But I can say that you will love this twisted mafia Hoseok way too much!

3. Shadows by @borathae - A, exes au

One of the most underrated stories I have ever read! Yeah, it is very angsty and Hoseok is so cruel but... we all are masochist here. lmao!

4. Heaven sent by @aquagustd - A, F, S, f2l au

Sexy soccer player Hoseok is just another name for perfection.

5. Bound by @explicit-tae - S, kinda f2l

Talk abut BDSM! GOOOD Sweet Lord!!!

6. Jigsaw by @sunshinejunghoseokie - A *

I remembered crying after reading this one. So damn underrated that it physically hurts me!!

7. Delta Disorder by @bangtanintotheroom Y, S, Supernatural au

I don't usually read supernatural stuff but this demon Hoseok is way too sexy to skip!

8. Systems of Touch by @yeoldontknow - S, F, tiny A, S2l au

Beautifully written! The author used 100% of their capabilities to write this one. Perfectly drawn Professor Hoseok with a very attractive character of reader. Certainly a treat to read.

9. 2:00 AM by @likeastarstar - A, fuckbuddy Hoseok

Part of a series but can be read as a standalone. and Hoseok is a dick in this.

10. Love Quarrels by @mirahuyooo - A, F, mafia au

A cold yet soft mafia husband Hoseok chases behind his angry wife... could there be anything better than that?

11. The Hook Up ft. JK by @minisugakoobies - S

A little bit of a triangle.. but not love? if that makes sense.

12. Entelechy by @drmflm - suggestive (I believe)

Can't call this one angst and neither is this about Hoseok (he is there, don't worry). This one is more about the reader and her growth and it's beautiful.

13. Orgasms on the verge of a nervous breakdown by @sluttyandere - S, Y *

This is very dark and quite triggering, so please don't read unless you can handle those stuff.

14. For the night by @aseaofyoongi - A, S

I cried. that's all.

15. We Shouldn't by @beahae - S **

Hands down to one of my most favourite Hoseok smuts ever!!! This one has a Jimin follow-up so make sure to read that too.

16. Real or not real by @nmjoo-n - A, S, F **

Again one of the most exquisite Hoseok fics I have ever read!

17. Checkmate by @sunshinejoon - A, S

This was supposed to have a sequel but it is perfect regardless.

18. Do I wanna know - @yoongiphoria - A, f2? ****

Now, MJ knows how much I love this one. I often read this story and I never ever get bored of it! I love this to the core and you should too!

19. Scrap - @silv3rswirls - A, Y, S

Dark and sexy. Read the warnings carefully please.

20. It's a Promise by @sahmfanficbts - S, A, Arranged marriage au

Just read it.

21. Three by @hamsterclaw - S

Again.. VERY UNDERRATED!

22. Wonderwall by @kiara-ish - A with an open ending

Might not be for the faint hearted.

23. Infatuated by @bangtanfancamp - F

If you like high school love au then this one is for you.

24. Constellations of You by @persphonesorchid - S, F, established relationship au

This is so domestic that my heart almost exploded while reading!!

25. Burning flames or paradise by @/yoongiphoria - A, tiny f ****

MJ does magic.... that's all I can say.

26. Alone again by @archivedkookie - A, F

I loooove these kinds of stories. Just the right amount of despair with the right amount of hope... beautiful.

27. Feeling Good by @bonvoyagenoona - A, S

Everything I write about this will fall short.. so I will just shut up and let you enjoy the goodness.

28. Distracted by @dilfhoseokie - S

Ahem..

29. Drink Champaign in my airplane by @/bangtanintotheroom - F, S, F2l

Perfectly embodies a rich hot CEO friend Hoseok... a fun read.

30. Keynote by @missgeniality - S **********

MY MOST FAVORITE HOSEOK ONESHOT TO EXIST IN THE PLANET. yeah.. (this has a follow-up but I like this one better)

Series

The thing is that I don't usually read series. I just don't have that patience. So this list is pretty small and forgive me for that.

1. Transference by @dark-muse-iris - A, S, F, S2l *********************

[Completed]

I wasn't the same after reading this. I can't talk about this trantric therapist Hoseok, 'cause I will never shut up if I start.

2. Kanalia by @xjoonchildx - A, S, f (?) *********************

[Ongoing]

Honestly, who isn't a sucker for Lord Jung? You must be sick if you are not. (On a side note.. Kanalia is keeping me alive from jumping off trains on tough days)

3. Guarded by @/xjoonchildx - A, S, F, S2l

[Completed]

Mafia Hoseok with dogtags. I think that's enough of an introduction.

If you want to read the Hoseok stories I write, you can checkout my Masterlist.

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mydarlingclaudia · 5 months ago

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every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader

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lsunstreakerl · 1 month ago

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4.4k of o!darkbull... here u go, for my little community of sadists on here. dead dove warnings apply to this ficlet like they did the last one, further warnings under the cut. mature!

DDDNE: arranged/forced marriage, extreme dubcon, brief medical setting snippit (marked at beginning and end with ------), discussion of pregnancy, what could be considered mutual domestic violence, omegaverse (obviously) and the required follow up maxussy

Fingers hook in the back of Max's collar, yanking his head back as Charles leans down to nip at his shoulder.

"My birthday is coming up."

Max snarls, snapping his teeth near Charles' ear as he pulls away.

"You mean mine."

Charles lets him get some distance, not that it's ever mattered.

"Sure, but mine is right after, and it's the important one, since I will be twenty."

Max rolls his eyes, scowling.

"What, you want an award? Get an F1 seat and then it will be impressive."

Charles laughs softly, but his eyes are cold where he's watching Max, lingering on his thighs and waist.

"Is that a new lounge set?"

"I wouldn't know Charles, you handle all my brand shit. I just wear what's in the box."

Charles steps forward, and he smells interested, and Max fights his internal groan. Charles is always interested.

"It looks good. I don't want you wearing it around anyone else."

Well, it'll be on Charles to cancel the fucking photoshoot then. Privately, Max is thrilled. He hates doing magazine shoots or brand deals, but part of Charles' contract involves a certain amount of obligations- some of which he can get away with pushing onto Max, since he's basically an extension of Charles.

What it really means is Max ends up doing work with leather brands, jewelry brands, omega brands. Just two weeks ago he'd had to sit still while they adjusted some "pheromone-soothing" collar on him, angled his chin up to look like he was kneeling while they got their pictures.

Even now, there's a few boxes scattered in the living room that he's supposed to be doing something with, unopened.

Charles is getting closer, and Max sighs, eyes narrowing.

"Seriously Charles, you missed the apex on turn seven five times today- why would I let you fuck me?"

Charles rumbles, low and threatening.

"You don't 'let me' do anything. Don't forget how this works, yes? I am much more lenient with you than another alpha would be."

He comes directly into Max's personal space, bringing one hand down to roughly cup his cunt through his shorts, fingers pushing up through the fabric to mimic going inside of him.

Max doesn't give him the satisfaction of gasping, briefly debating how he wants the night to go. On the one hand, Charles wants to get his dick wet, pop a knot, whatever. They don't have any obligations tonight, so Max doesn't have to worry about looking presentable, which leads to the other hand- if he's going to get fucked it might as well be really worth it, the kind where his head goes foggy and he's sobbing into the sheets, half convinced he's going to go into heat.

Maybe if Charles gets the rough sex out of his system tonight, he'll be less pissed when he qualifies like shit tomorrow.

"Those Red Bull alphas seem pretty lenient to me. What's their names again? Daniel and... Marlo? Or was it Carlos? I think his name is Carlos."

Charles fingers twitch as his scent sharpens, taking on a sour note. He's pissed.

Max grins.

"I bet they tag team an omega very nicely."

Charles slams him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him as he snarls, and Max lets his legs fall open a little wider. If he's going to commit, he's going to do it right.

"I bet they have huge knots too, and their driving really is amazing, especially that last race-"

It's said through panting gasps as he tries to catch his breath, but Charles' enraged scent ignites a deep satisfaction within him.

"You stupid-"

He spins Max around, shoving him roughly down onto the coffee table. A press box goes falling off the side, which is really just another good riddance.

If Charles really marks him up, Max can get out of the other photoshoot later this week. He's confident he can pull that off- he's got a lifetime of experience pissing off his alpha, and a whole night to do it properly.

------

"Max! Always so nice to see you in the paddock supporting your alpha- how do you think the Ferrari is stacking up this year?"

Max scoffs, keeping his brisk pace as he walks, forcing the interviewer to jog to keep up with him.

"I think if the team has sorted out their administrative issues from last year, they can actually work on the car this year, and maybe next year they will not suck as bad."

"Oh! Well everyone, that was Charles Leclerc's mate, who's reputably famous for his bluntness, and has fabulously put it on display for us, thank you so much-"

Max lets the garage door swing shut behind him, cutting off the rest of the sentence.

It's a bustle of activity inside, both sides of the garage a hectic mess.

They're running Pierre with Charles this year, but there's a rookie coming through the junior formulas Max is keeping an eye on.

Generally, the actual seat politics here have nothing to do with racing, which is annoying, and more to do with slightly less than legal weight being thrown around, which had been terrifying when Max realized.

That night- he wasn't sure where the conversation had gone wrong, considering Charles had kept him kneeling next to him, head against his thigh- but one moment it had been a casual game of poker, and the next moment there had been guns pointed at everyone across the table, dead silence in the room.

Max had frozen, panicked until Charles had dropped one hand down, curled it around the back of his neck and squeezed, and then it had gone hazy with the scruffing, and he's not really sure what had happened afterwards.

He'd been pissed later, demanding an explanation, bitching at Charles about the entire evening until he'd finally been shoved into the nest, and Charles had agreed to tell him if Max would just shut up.

Some days, Max wishes he hadn't asked.

Now he's making his way through the garage. Everyone here knows not to touch him, although sometimes he can feel them staring. He slinks into the back hallways, following the tug in his chest into Charles' drivers room.

Charles is pulling his fireproofs on, half crouched over the crammed cot against the wall. He looks up when Max steps in, shoulders relaxing.

"Media holdup?"

Max wrinkles his nose.

"How'd you guess?"

Charles grins, mouth curling into something more smug than Max would like.

"I got this strange feeling of immense irritation, for some reason."

His fingers curl into Max's collar, tugging him forward before shoving him down, and Max winces as his knees hit the flooring.

Charles tangles his fingers into Max's hair. It's getting long, but it's not Max's decision to make if it gets cut or not.

"I'm going to knot your mouth, baby."

Max makes a face, phantom pain in his jaw already as he looks up at his alpha.

"Do you even have time for that?"

Charles shrugs, eyes flicking to the clock.

"I've got less the longer you try to talk to me about it, instead of leaving your mouth open."

Touché.

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

Max digs his heels in when Charles tries to pull him away from the car. He hates these appointments, despises them with everything in him, and the day he makes it easy for the Charles is the day he's dead.

"Max."

Charles sounds exasperated already, hooking a finger into the ring of Max's collar and tugging.

Max curls his lip, planting his weight. There's a chance Charles brute forces it, uses a Command and makes Max walk himself inside, but he's somewhat sympathetic to this part usually.

Sure enough- there's a hand on his waist as Charles steps into his space, wiggling his fingers between Max's collar and neck to press down on his scent gland, capturing his lips in a kiss. Max's head goes hazy, the stimulation on his neck making him pliant.

"I know you don't like this, but we need to get it done."

Sure, whatever his alpha wants.

Charles pulls back, tugging Max with him as they walk into the clinic, and it's only after they've checked in, drawn blood, and Max has changed into the clinic gown that Max comes back to himself, shifting uncomfortably in the seat.

Charles squeezes his thigh, a silent reminder to behave.

Max lets the unease build up in him until they call his name, walking him back into the exam room. Charles stays close to his back, pushing his scent as Max halts in the doorway.

The bed in the middle of the room is his worst enemy, every year. He still hates it, with the crinkling plastic under his back, the stirrups at the end of the bed for his ankles.

He doesn't realize he's whining until Charles tugs his collar, hooking his chin over his shoulder.

"Come on baby, the sooner you get up there the sooner it's over."

Max leans back into him, and he's sure he must smell strongly of distress, because Charles makes a sympathetic noise, nosing at the underside of his jaw. For a second he thinks maybe he won't have to do it, and they'll go home, but-

"Get on the table, Max."

His body is moving before his brain catches up, stepping onto the table and toeing his shoes off. Charles watches impassively, wrapping one hand around his bare ankle.

"See, that wasn't so bad."

Max wants to kick him in the face. Heavily considers it as well, watching Charles snag the ends of the cuffs at the stirrups, wedging his leg into place, but if he does that he's not sure what Charles would do as punishment.

Being here is punishment enough.

He whines louder when the cuff snaps into place, keeping one leg wide as Charles grabs the other.

"Charles, Alpha-"

Charles pushes his scent again, deep and soothing as he loops the cuff around Max's other ankle.

"You'll be alright, it'll be quick."

He steps forward, pressing a kiss to Max's mouth.

"But you know how important this is, getting checks on your health."

Max swallows, cold and upset and shivering already, strapped down. He'll behave with his hands this year- last year had been awful all around, and he doesn't want a repeat of the experience. He's learned.

Charles eyes him for a moment before poking his head into the hallway, having a quiet discussion with someone else, before he steps back in, closing the door gently.

"You're flagged as an anxious omega, so they said we can try something different this year, yes?"

Max watches him step closer, and then he's unlatching Max's collar, gently setting it on the counter.

This is new. Max almost always has his collar on outside- his neck is too vulnerable otherwise. He'd hated it at first when he was younger, but it's somewhat comforting now, and having it removed doesn't help the stress at all.

Charles leans over him, kissing him chastely as he smooths his thumb over Max's scent gland, pushing into it enough that Max squirms, sensitive. He's getting mixed signals- his alpha is edging into foreplay, but they're at the health clinic, which is always bad in a scary way, but-

Charles licks into his mouth, fingers pressing into Max's neck, scent thick in his nose, and Max's whine cuts off, head dropping back to expose his neck. Charles doesn't always spend time just trying to make Max feel good, but when he does...

He's got long, clever fingers, knows exactly how to push Max's buttons, deepening the kiss as his other hand settles high on Max's thigh.

Max tries to flex his legs, stopped by the straps, but before he can get worked up about it Charles is rumbling against his chest, fingers brushing against Max's cunt.

Max whimpers, feels himself getting wet even though that's never happened at the clinic before, and then Charles is pressing two fingers inside, spreading them slowly.

Charles gives him a moment to breathe, lowering his head by Max's neck and nosing at his scent gland as his fingers work deeper, bracketing Max's body with his own.

Max is confused, because he hates the clinic, and he's not exactly turned on, but he's getting wetter the longer Charles spends working him up, kissing him and nipping his scent gland, pushing him into his instincts. His alpha wants something, Max just doesn't know what.

Charles pushes his fingers up inside of him, thumb rubbing gentle circles over his clit, and Max squirms, orgasm building. He doesn't want to come in the clinic, that's not- he doesn't like the thought of it, why they might want it.

Charles isn't giving him another option, kissing him again as his fingers keep their relentless pace, pulling Max higher and higher-

Max cries out into his mouth, squeezing around his hand as he comes, shaking on the table. He's wet, and he can feel the cool air of the clinic between his legs, whimpering softly.

His alpha leans back and swings the door open a crack, before coming back to Max and withdrawing his fingers, pressing a chaste kiss to Max's mouth.

One of the beta workers comes in, so quiet Max almost doesn't notice him until he's pushing two gloved fingers inside of him, ignoring the way Max's hips buck up on the table.

Charles presses a hand down, palm flat over Max's stomach.

"Behave, Max."

The Command locks his limbs up, even as Max trembles, whines trapped in his throat. The beta scissors his fingers a few times before pushing in a third, pressing at Max's walls.

It doesn't feel good- it never does- but Max is getting his wires crossed with Charles' scent so strong around him, and his own slick across his thighs.

The fingers press deeper, enough that it's starting to hurt, and Charles presses another soft kiss to his lips, running his thumb across Max's mating mark.

Max looks up at his alpha with pleading eyes, but Charles is watching the beta closely.

The door opens again, and an alpha walks in, scent patches carefully applied over his neck and wrists. It doesn't matter- Max knows an alpha when he sees one.

He crouches by the beta, snapping his own gloves on, and Max squeezes his eyes shut, nails digging into his palms as he clenches his fists. He doesn't want his arms held down, so he's going to behave.

"Good news is the fertility results came back solid across the board, so he's perfectly healthy in that regard. You did mark on the appointment that you'd like us to replace that implant though, correct?"

Charles nods, one hand brushing through Max's hair.

"Yes, not quite ready for pups yet. I was worried the long term back to back implants would cause fertility issues, so I'm glad to hear that is not the case."

The alpha makes an affirming noise, pushing all four fingers into him, and Max squeezes his eyes shut again, tears building at his waterline.

"He's got good numbers all around. Well taken care of, good condition. He'll carry well, whenever you decide to do that. I'd refer you to a fertility clinic when you make that decision though, since it's the first time."

The alpha pauses, looking at up Charles with a shrug.

"Just because you seem to care about how he's doing upstairs, is what I mean. Studies have been showing that omegas who feel supported by their alphas carry healthier, stronger pups. If you're hoping to go the athlete route it might be worth it to do a little spoiling."

Charles' thumb brushes across the bottom of his lashes, wiping away the stray tears.

"Yes, I have been thinking about that. He is somewhat spoiled already, but whenever we get to the pup stage I'll have to change some things."

Something cool and metal brushes against Max, and he whimpers again, pushing into Charles hand.

He hates the clinic.

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

"You cannot seriously still be sulking."

Max hisses from where he's rebuilt the nest, lip curled at Charles where he's standing in the doorway, annoyed.

"Max, we got back from the clinic four hours ago, you can stop being bitchy about it now, it's over."

Max fluffs a pillow, seething.

"You had them check my fertility labs, seriously?"

Charles throws his hands up, stepping closer to the nest despite Max's threatening scent filling the room.

"I wanted to check! You have been on the IUD for years, Max."

Max chucks a particularly firm throw pillow at him, nailing him in the face as he snarls.

"And I'll stay on it! World champion pups or none, Leclerc!"

Charles growls, low and threatening as he takes a few quick steps, grabbing Max's collar and hauling him out of the nest, shoving him onto the bed.

One hand settles low on Max's stomach, pushing down roughly as Charles settles over him, pressing him into the mattress.

"I decide when we have pups. Not you, not the doctor, not any kind of arbitrary timeline. Me."

He hitches one of Max's legs up, nosing at his jaw before he nips at the skin, and Max is squirming, uncomfortable where Charles' hand is still pressing into him.

"We can go back to the clinic right now if you want, yes? Are you are acting up because that's what you are really wanting? A litter of pups to keep you occupied all the time? Maybe then you will stop harping on my driving constantly."

Max curls his lip, hips twitching. He doesn't want pups, but if he has to have them, they're going to be with a capable driver- Max's skills even as an omega are too good to be diluted.

Charles rolls their hips together, hot and heavy on top of him, scent thick in his nose. Max can feel that he's hard, and it's worse that he's getting wet in response. The scent always does it for him, wrapping around inside of him and making him relax, forgetting anything he's mad about.

He snarls weakly up at Charles.

"Do not disgrace my genetics like that, alpha."

He sneers the last word, twisting away from Charles as he feels fingers dig into his skin, hot breath fanning over his shoulder.

"I'm letting it slide for now."

Max tries to ignore the competing swirl of relief and disappointment inside of him.

Charles' teeth nip as he skin again before he sits up, swinging his legs off the bed and looking down at Max. He's probably a sight right now, rumpled clothes and pink cheeks, eyes narrowed defiantly.

His alpha backs up, giving Max to space to slink back into the nest without getting within arms reach.

"But when I bring that championship home, I expect you to remember that, yes? How about one litter for each championship?"

He's watching Max from the doorway as he starts fixing pillows again, mouth curled into a smirk. Max deliberately doesn't meet his eyes.

"Try bringing home a constructors first."

------

Max sits patiently, if slightly uncomfortably, as the makeup artist adjusts something across his lashes, stepping back out of his space with a satisfied smile.

"It looks very pretty- you're sweet, helping your alpha with press."

It's not Max's preferred way to spend an afternoon. He's trying not to adjust his clothes, even if they sit weird on his skin, silky and draped in places he's not used to, flashes of skin he keeps forgetting are exposed. He's wearing a thick leather collar, buttery soft against his neck. His stomach has been turning all afternoon as they get ready- he'd tried drinking a few sips of water earlier but had to set the bottle back down.

Charles should be getting finished here in a moment, and then they're walking the carpet for a premier of some movie Max doesn't care about. He slides carefully off the chair, following the tug in his chest back out to the hallway where his alpha is waiting.

It's frustrating sometimes to remember he's annoyed about something- especially when Charles looks as good as he does right now, smiling when he sees Max.

"You look good, baby."

Max's lips press into a thin line. Charles knows how much he hates press of any kind, but unfortunately being mated to a high profile alpha means Max has his own responsibilities.

"Thanks."

It's dry, and Charles laughs, kissing him chastely.

"Try to sound a bit more enthused if they ask questions on the carpet, please. You can take a nap when we're in the premier."

Half of Max's brand is built off of telling paparazzi to fuck off.

There's different expectations when he's hanging off his alphas arm though, so Max will play nice for the evening.

------

"And, one last question, for your omega- are you excited to have pups? It must be coming soon, you're both the perfect age, and I know the internet is gushing over how cute they're going to be!"

Charles pinches Max's side where the cameras can't see, right before Max is about to tell her to choke and die.

He bites his tongue for a moment, trying to find the patience somewhere inside of him.

"I am of course always thrilled to hear that the internet is speculating on our sex lives again."

Charles is probably grinding his teeth next to him, but Max didn't say anything explicit, so he's going to count that as a personal victory.

The reporter is still looking expectantly at him, and Max really just wants to go inside and sleep through this stupid movie, and then he wants to go home. If he behaves for the press, he might be able to convince Charles to order takeout- the only thing that's sounding good is the Indian restaurant near the flat.

He'd kill for some curry right now.

Charles' thumb presses gently into his waist, more concerned than anything, and Max remembers that he needs to respond.

"... And as soon as we know we will work on an announcement."

He even offers a slight smile, and Charles relaxes slightly next to him. It's the best media response Max has given all evening.

The reporter gushes again, goes on some kind of tangent, but then she catches sight of Hulk and his controversially young new omega, and Max has never been more grateful.

Charles tugs him inside away from the press, even though it's a few minutes early, eying Max carefully.

"What's wrong?"

Max sighs, and grants himself a somewhat uncharacteristic indulgence, leaning forward into Charles, hooking his chin over his should as his arms settle around his waist.

"I am just tired, I think."

Charles rumbles, warm palm cupping the back of his head. Max feels a bit better like this, secure with his alpha, but they'll have to face the last few minutes of press before he can nap inside.

"I'm okay, Charles. We can go back out."

Charles brushes his wrist along the edge of Max's jaw, scenting him. He doesn't quite look like he believes him, but he's walking them back out anyways.

Max takes a deep breath, absentmindedly wondering if the paparazzi flashes will eventually damage his eyes.

------

He's half awake, surrounded by Charles' scent, head resting against something warm.

"-not been feeling well all night. I'm going to take the back way out, sorry mate. You will have to handle press."

"No that's okay, I hope he feels better!"

Max whines when he's jostled, although Charles' soothing rumble is much closer than he'd expected, vibrating through him. He must be carrying him, and when he noses into Max's hair gently, Max tilts his head up, cracking his eyes open.

It's dark out, and they're taking the employee exit in the back, avoiding the media swarm at the front steps. Charles is looking down at him concerned, and Max wonders for a second when he had time for an outfit change.

Charles laughs softly, and Max realizes he's said it out loud.

"You're in my jacket, baby. We're going back home- if you do not feel better in the morning we are going to the clinic."

Max pushes his head closer against Charles' chest. The jacket must be why he feels so surrounded, protected by his alpha.

He doesn't like going to the clinic, but a visit because he's sick is different than the annual wellness visits, so he'll try not to pitch a fit.

Mostly.

------

Max is feeling better in the morning, waking up curled entirely on top of Charles, face buried in the crook of his neck. Charles is awake already, one hand scrolling on his phone while the other has been running up and down Max's spine, but he clicks his phone off when he meets Max's eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

Max settles further on top of him, warm and comfortable. The nest is safe and secure, even if the rest of the flat probably needs to be worked on, and Charles is right here.

He's not hungry, but he's not nauseous.

"Better."

Charles presses his lips together.

"I want to bring you in, just in case."

Max frowns, nudging against Charles' face.

"I am fine, Charles. I am thinking I ate something bad yesterday."

Charles rumbles, arms wrapping around Max.

"We will get rid of everything in the fridge and replace it then."

Max snorts, dropping his head down against Charles' shoulder.

"I think that is maybe a bit much."

He pauses. He still really wants Indian food.

"...but maybe we could order some curry?"

The face Charles makes in response makes Max laugh, unexpected and unrestrained.

"No- no don't laugh, what is wrong with you- I just cannot believe you were feeling sick, and now you want curry."

Max shrugs.

"Is that a yes? With your world champion salary, surely you can afford some takeout."

Charles groans, fumbling for his phone again.

"Right now? It is ten in the morning Max, what if they haven't made it yet?"

Max whines- it's escaped his throat before he can stop it, genuine distress that he might not be able to get curry in the morning. Charles immediately sits them up, sighing at him.

"Fine, fine, I am ordering. If I have to pay for them to make it early I will do that too. You are spoiled, did you know that?"

Max makes a face.

"That is of course not my fault."

#o!darkbull #ficlet #they're kind of insane honestly #toxic4toxic #you kind of see here as they get some experience in #they're a little bit more mellowed out somewhat #they know each other better #omegaverse

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 9 days ago

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bronya & seele hugging reader who they think is dead, confessing their feelings at the last moment

and oop he gets better and now they gotta deal with their confession

(H:SR) Bronya and Seele confessing to an injured Reader

Gender Neutral as per usual, but I LOVE prompts like these ngl

Bronya has already lost so many people throughout her life, soldiers under her command, loved ones, yet she would never grow immune to it.

The day she lost her mother and became the new Supreme Guardian, it nearly broke her.

And with (Y/N) taking a blow meant for her. any composure she had was instantly shattered the moment the battle was over.

Tears streamed down her face as she felt the snow fall on her arms, patches of red staining the ground and her clothes.

Though the soldiers around her attempted to patch the worst of the injuries, the situation was looking more dire by the second.

Bronya hugged (Y/N) tight to her chest, doing her best to not break down for the sake of those around her.

But more than anything, she just wanted (Y/N) to know how she felt.

(Bronya) "(Y/N), I'm so sorry...Don't go, please...!"

(Y/N) grit their teeth, unable to speak but managed to squeeze her hand, messily wiping away a tear from her face.

(Bronya) "I...love you, (Y/N)..."

They fell unconscious before giving their response, being carried away by the other Silvermane soldiers.

Upon returning back to base, Bronya had finally received news of (Y/N)'s status, and she braced herself for the worst:

(Silvermane) "Supreme Guardian! (Y/N) has been stabilized and requested to see you, ma'am!"

Bronya sighed in relief, dismissing the others so she could speak to them alone.

Honestly? She was ready to cry tears of joy knowing that they'd be okay, expecting (Y/N) to immediately begin reassuring her the moment she walked in.

And it would be for the second time today she'd be proven wrong.

(Y/N) "Bronya, I think I might have been going a bit loopy near the end but...did you say that you loved me?"

Bronya's jaw dropped, the sudden realization hitting her. She had confessed in the heat of the moment.

She had kept it secret for years, and Bronya had let it slip finally, though understandably so.

And yet Bronya was still completely flustered by it.

(Bronya) "I-I...Well, I just...! M-Maybe...?"

A brief moment of silence passed before (Y/N) began laughing, so hard in fact they coughed in pain, making Bronya rush over before they could even blink.

(Bronya) "Are you still hurt?!"

(Y/N) "Ow...! Yeah, but that can wait! How am I supposed to take the news of the Supreme Guardian being in love with me?"

Even though they were in pain, they were healthy enough to give her a little smirk, causing her to blush and pout.

(Bronya) "Pardon me for thinking that you were gravely injured!"

(Y/N) "You only wanted to let me know how you felt when I was at death's door?"

(Bronya) "Of course not! Just...how could have I told you?"

Her eyes trailed downward, sighing and leaning back into a nearby chair that sat near their bed.

(Y/N) eased off a little, a hand brushing a small strand of hair near her face, causing Bronya to freeze at the gesture.

But after a moment, she leaned into their touch, seeing a more genuine smile now.

(Y/N) "You could've told me anytime, Bronya, and my answer would've been the same. I love you too."

Bronya leaned her head against theirs, and for a moment, the two said nothing and enjoyed the brief moment of peace they had earned.

They'd figure out what to do and how to handle their relationship, but for now, they could just have each other.

Even if it wasn't entirely the way Bronya had planned to announce her love to them.

Seele bursts into Natasha's Clinic, breathing heavily as she's carrying (Y/N), one arm around her shoulder.

(Seele) "NAT! I NEED YOU!"

Natasha immediately rushes to her aid, getting (Y/N) to a nearby bed, looking to see how grievous the injury was.

Seele's clothes were stained in dried blood, though none of it was hers.

(Natasha) "What happened?!"

(Seele) "This dumbass took a hit that was meant for me, a-and...!-"

Natasha nodded, gently pushing Seele away from the bed, though she refused to go anywhere.

(Seele) "Please, let me help them!"

Knowing better than to tell Seele off when she was so clearly panicked, Natasha applied pressure on the bleeding and brought up her face mask.

(Natasha) "Sterilized bandages, now."

(Seele) "R-Right!"

After several minutes of intensive care, with (Y/N)'s breathing getting heavier, Natasha could hear the quiet pleas from Seele as she held onto their hand.

(Seele) "Not like this, please just hang in there...!"

Natasha disposed of her now red mask, cleaning her hands before grabbing Seele's shoulder.

(Natasha) "They have to rest, and we need to get you looked at as well."

(Seele) "Nat, are they going to make it?!"

(Natasha) "They're stabilized for now, but it's...hard to say. I'll have my eye on them 24/7 as soon as we're done."

Seele winced at the report, but knew nothing else could be done.

Before she left to get cleaned, Seele left a kiss on (Y/N)'s forehead, and reluctantly left their side.

A day or two later, Seele received a text from Natasha, almost making her knees go out in relief.

Natasha: (Y/N) is awake, and they'll make a full recovery in a matter of time. I'll explain more, but they were asking to see you.

Seele: On my way now.

Though her text was calm, she nearly sprinted the entire way to Natasha's clinic.

Swinging the door wide open, she saw Natasha sitting in front of (Y/N)'s bed, smiling at the sight of her friend.

(Natasha) "Looks like you already have a visitor."

(Y/N) "Seele!"

Seele rushed over to their bed, nearly crushing (Y/N) in a hug as tears fell out of her eyes.

(Seele) "You MORON! You almost got killed doing that stupid stunt, what were you thinking?!"

(Y/N) "Protecting you! You were about to take that blow yourself!-"

(Seele) "And I would've been fine!-"

(Natasha) "I beg to differ. And I also think you should let (Y/N) finish their thought."

Seele was tempted to roll her eyes, but instead listened to Natasha.

(Y/N) "You think I wanna see someone I care about get hurt?"

(Seele) "How the hell do you think I feel?!"

At first, (Y/N) motioned to say something else before blushing, making Seele confused.

(Y/N) "I...T-Think that kiss you gave me told me."

(Seele) "Wha-?!"

Immediately, the memory came flooding back. The kiss she gave them before they went under care. They were awake for that?!

And with that, Natasha just chuckled and moved to the curtains, winking at them.

(Natasha) "I think I'll give you two a moment."

Once the curtain closed them off, Seele and (Y/N) sat in silence, both blushing madly.

Until, mercifully, (Y/N) spoke up.

(Y/N) "I...feel the same way, if it means anything."

(Seele) "...Of course it does, idiot."

She held their hand, but was unable to meet their eyes directly, and the two of them stayed like that for a small eternity.

(Seele) "If you ever get hurt like that again, I'll kill you myself."

(Y/N) "Hah, sure thing, dear."

Seele spun her head to give them a glare, one which faltered immediately seeing them smile. And with a sigh, she just hugged them closer to her.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #bronya x reader #seele hsr x reader #bronya honkai star rail #bronya hsr x reader #bronya hsr #seele x reader #seele honkai star rail #seele hsr #natasha honkai star rail

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knight-of-flowerss · 13 days ago

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I am tooo addicted to Trucker Cregan being a dad, imagining you being really sick with the twins or later on it being a difficult pregnancy and him stepping up more and having to wrangle his crotch goblins as you put them lmaooo and he complains but lowkey bonds with them a ton and misses them more when he has to go back to work (especially gilly but dont tell her brothers)

OMG YESS AWEEE (and I'm loving how people are catching on to calling his kids crotch goblins 😭)

IM SO SORRY THESE ARE TAKING FOREVER TO WRITE IVE BEEN SO NOT MOTIVATED AND I HAVE TO GO INTO HOSPITAL AND STUPID COLLEGE AND LIFE SHIT 😞😞😞 I promise I love y'all these are just so bad they seem like I don't, I'm sorry 😖☹️

Dad!Trucker!Cregan Stark x Pregnant!Reader + Their crotch goblins

MASTERLIST

Cregan was less than happy about the idea of taking care of his kids while you were going through the last painful leg of your pregnancy.

He was miserable to say the least.

So the luck of him getting any action was already nearly out the window, but if he asked nicely you'd probably blow him. But now that he's got these four cock blocks hanging on his every move, yeah, that luck is six feet under.

Gilly loved him but maybe too much, she always wanted to be with daddy and do whatever daddy's doing. He loved her to bits but it was getting old real fast whenever he just wanted to drink a beer in peace.

Rickon was probably the easiest. The shy boy was always either sat next to Cregan on the couch watching whatever 'football' (I'm putting it in quotations 'cause fuck y'all Americans how dare yous call that football. ☹️🫵) show was on, Rickon didn't even like 'football', it was just the only time he got to sit with his daddy without his siblings interfering, or he was sat on the bed next to you and showing you how much he's learned in school and showing off how much he can read and write.

Ned was the most annoying. The little shit wouldn't give him a moments peace. Once, Cregan was kissing Ned's head as he tucked him in and the fucker launched himself up and bit down on his Adam's apple. Yeah, that shit hurt. He can't even go 'yeah, he's a pain in the ass, but I love him'. To Cregan, it's 'He's a pain in the fucking ass and my girlfriend said I have to love him so'.

And Denny. The fucking prick that loves his momma more. He's two, so you can pretty much assume how much Cregan hated that, especially with all the screaming and crying every time Cregan tried to pick him up.

He really didn't want to deal with them. Like, really. But he saw the condition you were in. He knew you couldn't handle them by yourself in the last leg of your already painful pregnancy.

The first few days were.. eventful..

Drawings all over the walls, dirty dishes everywhere, dirty clothes strewn across the kids rooms and toys thrown around throughout the house. Cregan even had drawings in felt pen all over his bare back since he accidentally fell asleep before the kids.

This carried on for a few days until he got used to them, learnt who liked what.

Gilly loved pancakes with honey and lemon juice but no sugar. Rickon waffles slathered in chocolate spread covered in sugar and a various assortment of fruits on top. Ned was the one that decided he wanted to be fancy and his favourite were blueberry pancakes with jelly on top. Denny just ate anything infront of him to be honest.

Gilly loved pink skirts but hated pink dresses. She'd rather have a green dress, weirdly. But no green top. And she adores her yellow, sparkly wellies, she'll wear them wherever she goes with whatever outfit she wears, no matter if it clashes or not.

Rickon, like everyone expects I suppose, loves those sophisticated shorts. You know, the ones that the rich kids wear on Easter with the button up striped blue and white shirt with a navy bow tie and suspenders. Yeah, he'd rock that whole outfit everyday if he could, much to Cregan's dismay.

Ned just wears shorts and whatever shirt you pick for him, the same with Denny, even though he'd shimmy off those shorts halfway through the day.

He learnt that Gilly was scared of thunder, so was Ned, Rickon was scared of rabbits weirdly and Denny was fearless, I think he's yet to develop fear. Wait, no, I guess you could argue he's scared of Cregan but even Cregan himself can't tell if Denny's scared of him or just hates him lmao.

He slowly started to realise why and how people actually love their kids. I mean, how can he not look at them after spending a month and a half with them and think not?

And after the twins were born, it was a plateful. Seriously. Taking care of two demanding newborns and three demanding kids alongside a weird little shy one who just kinda stands in the corner, it was a lot.

And when Cregan had to return back to work after a month since the twins were born, he was sad on the inside. He was going to miss getting jumped on and getting the wind knocked out of him each morning by Ned. Getting stickers placed on him to 'make him more pretty' by Gilly. Getting given evil looks by just existing from Denny. Rickon's side eyes whenever he sits with him, making sure his daddy was still happy and okay that he was there with him. He even missed the two newborns, the two pains in his ass, the two who keep both you and him up at night.

He secretly missed all his kids but he openly missed you, well, openly in front of his kids, never anyone else. He's still a fucking bastard at the end of the day. Your bastard.

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @cryinonthefloor553 @visenyablackwood @velaryyon

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alpaca-clouds · 4 months ago

Text

Why do people struggle so much with understanding pacing?

Okay, let me talk about my pet peeve when it comes to writing in any medium. Pacing.

People, who know me for long, will know that this has been the thing I have been complaining about since I was like 12. And there is a good reason for it.

See, when I learned to write, there was this guy who I greatly admired as an author. And after bugging him for a while (look folks, the internet was a very different place from what it is now) he did give me some recommendations on books on writing. And a lot of them went deeply into his pet peeve, which - you guessed it - was pacing as well.

And thus, I learned early on about story structure, and pacing, and how to pace out a story in a way grips the audience. This material I read went onto different techniques for different mediums, into how different cultures had a different ways of dealing with this, and so on, and so forth.

Some of my main take aways were, that a lot of very long stories struggled massively with pacing, and that a ton of people also very miscalculated their ability to handle characters in terms of pacing - because characters and pacing are two things that are very, very heavily connected.

I also learned something else, though: That a lot of western writing advice did not understand anything about pacing outside of the idea that stories were supposed to have three acts - or maybe five - and ideally from a certain fateful day in the early 2000s on, would follow the "save the cat" formular. (Mind you, I do not hate "Save the Cat", however, this formular has been created for movies. It works at times somewhat well for books, too. But it definitely does not for for pretty much anything serialized, because that is not what it was developed for.)

And I also learned another thing: Most people do not understand pacing either, because pacing is not a thing that is ever taught in normal school (like most things that are about creative writing are not). So, while some people might have a gut feeling that the pacing of something might be off, they rarely can actually say why. And this is only worsened by the fact that today's tiktok addicted society is so used to consuming ultra condensed media, that they will perceive anything less condenses than 1 minute tiktok videos as "too slow and boring".

So, please allow me - the guy who kinda hyperfixated on this specific writing skill - to talk about pacing. And this will be in the following points:

What is pacing actually?

How do characters relate to pacing?

Pacing, Streaming and the supposed "filler episode".

Pacing and Fantasy

Pacing in Action vs anything else

Pacing in books vs visual media

What Is Pacing actually?

Okay, I think one of the main issues when it comes to understanding pacing is, that a lot of people see pacing on a on a spectrum that goes from "I am bored" to "I can't follow the plot anymore". But that actually does not always have to do with the pacing - obviously.

Technically pacing is the speed in which the plot moves. Or, to make it more quantifiable: "How many plot points (beats) are covered per either time (in any timed medium) or per page (in anything you read)". Which makes sense at the first glance - but does actually often not line up with the subjective perception of this. Becau se here is the thing: No, fight scenes are not automatically fast paces. A lot of modern action movies have super slow paced - in terms of story pacing - action scenes. Because yes, during those action sequences a lot of STUFF happens, but nothing of it actually is in any way related to the plot.

Look, I freaking adore the Fast & Furious movies. But you could literally edit those movies down to like 45 minutes each and not lose a single plot beat. But of course, nobody would watch those movies - because yes, me and everyone else who adored those movies, is there to watch them lunch cars into space and see stuff blow up. I don't much care about the characters or the plot.

This is by the way also the kinda point that me and other people talk about, when we are unimpressed by "oh, but sex scenes don't add anything to the plot", while the same people would often not make the same argument about action scenes - even though there is a ton of movies and shows where the action scenes really do not add anything to the plot. A lot of people just do not perceive action sequences as slow pacing, because even if nothing that happens on the screen actually adds anything to the plot or moves it forward, it is undeniable, that STUFF is happening. So basically monkey brain will go: "Hehe, things go boom!"

Don't get me wrong: there absolutely are stories in which the action is moving the plot. Mad Max Fury Road is a great example. The movie is also about 60% action - but the action scenes actually add to the plot.

Meanwhile nothing tells you as much about how unimportant some of the MCU action scenes are, than the fact, that they are often done by a completely different team and will be done apart from the rest of the movie.

But yes, traditionally the idea was, that towards the "finale" of a piece of media, a lot more plot beats would happen over a shorter amount of time. You will see that also in a lot of beat sheets. There are more beats that need to happen in the third act of a story - if we go by three act structure. And often there is actually even more plot developments, as usually in a finale all the "plotlines" will kinda finish up in the end. So even plotlines where not a lot has happened to this point - this shows especially in serialized works both in TV shows and stuff like manga or comics - the important plot points will then often happen close to the finale, because it feels more "right".

In older serialized media - especially TV shows prior to streaming - you also had the same thing hold true towards the finale of a "story arc". In a lot of older shows, you would usually see a structure that looked like this.

The "rise" here technically has less to do with more stuff happening in later arcs or seasons - and more with the threat-level rising, and the convulutedness of a story. lol

But yeah, the take-away from this part should be: No, action does not equal fast pacing. There can be action-heavy shows with super slow narrative pacing - but it will to many not feel this way, because at least action is interesting to watch. Which also might be an explanation to why people are a lot worse in seeing the issue with action-scenes that are not adding anything in visual media, but might actually notice it in written stories. Because in books action scenes do not feel "fast paced" in the same way they feel in movies, where the often faster editing and the amount of motion on screen will create this effect.

Oh, and on the other side: Of course there can be slow paced plots that will leave you having problems following. At times, because they are badly written (aka: the media does not give you all the information you need) - and at times, because a piece of media might expect you to know a certain bit of information that you do not know. I can definitely think of a variety of scifi media, that just expects you to know stuff about computer stuff or space, and will not explain it to you. Which might make you need longer time to take plot developments in, and then leaves you reeling.

Another thing however that is also important is: If the pacing stays actually the same throughout a piece of media - rather than accelarating towards the finale (or finales if there are multiple) - it actually will feel wrong in some way. Often people (even I, who hyperfixates on this specific thing) struggle to point at it at first. But yes, this very much is an issue that also can happen. You want the pacing to accelerate towards certain points in the plot - and then slow down. If you had an important point, you want a few slower scenes/episodes/chapters afterwards, to allow the audience to somewhat absorb all the new things you presented them with.

How do characters relate to pacing?

Alright, now we come to the dicey part - specifically, because a lot of people (which includes narratologists, creative writing professors, and people professionally writing) actually kinda do not fully agree on this. So, fair warning: This is how I think.

A character arc in many cases absolutely is a part of the plot. Most media we consume these days are character driven, so the characters are absolutely centrally connected to the plot and the plot mainly exists to have the character move from point A to point B. Or, to make it more basic: To have a character realize that their WANT is not their NEED.

Sure, those characters will usually also accomplish something plot-related. But them accomplishing them is more often than not heavily connected to them fulfilling their character arc. (Please note: characters having a want but having to realize a need is something that is core of western storytelling. However, given that it makes for interesting character arcs, a lot of Asian media these days also will use this as a central driver for character development.)

In some pieces of media, the character arcs are way more heavily tied into the beats of the main plot, than in other. In adventure, action, and related a lot of fantasy and scifi, there is most of the time a character arc happening parallel to the main plot beats. Meanwhile often enough in more down to earth drama and romance, plot beats and character development beats are heavily interwoven. This is not a hard and fast rule - there absolutely is fantasy where the character arc is the plot arc, just as there is romance where the development does not play as heavily into the main plot - but you can generally observe it.

However, no matter how strongly the character development beats line up with plot beats, you cannot deny one thing: character beats are beats that also add to the pacing - even if they technically do not move the main plot forward. So, for example, if you have an episode in a show or a chapter in a book, where important beats happens in terms of a characters development (for example: they realize something important about themselves), this does not necessarily slow the pacing down - even if no actual plot beats happen.

What the fuck is a plot beat? What is a character beat?

This part of the essay was originally not included, but the people reading over it said I should include this.

If we say, that Pacing is basically the description of "Plot Beats per Time" or rather "Plot Beats and/or Character Beats per Time", then we also need to say, what exactly a Plot Beat is. I will fully admit, that this is one of those things in which I forget that this is not a thing taught in school.

I mentioned "Save the Cat" before. "Save the Cat" is a book about writing movies and specifically about pacing out a movie in a way that it is captivating. It mainly focuses on action, but you can absolutely use it for most other genres. And this comes with a so called "beat sheet", a collection of the main story beats that happen, showing when they are going to happen. It looks like this:

Basically a Beat is a scene, in which the plot (or a character arc) is moved forward by a bit. Basically anything that reveals something to the main characters, anything where the basic assumptions about the plot change, anything like that.

Examples for Plot Beats would be:

Character learns about something going on

Characters find out something important about the plot

Someone (either protagonist or antagonist) gets killed or injured

Characters get a new power or item that is important to the plot

Romance goes forward or a reason for the romance to happen is found

Characters find a hint for something they want to reach

And examples of Character Beats would be:

Character learns something about themselves

Character makes a decision for themselves

Characters realizes feelings about something or someone

Character overcomes trauma

And mind you, because I cannot fit this anywhere else: If you read these you might realize, why Musicals are basically a cheat for very fast pacing. Because you can put an entire character arc into a 4 minute song. This is why musical animated shows like Steven Universe or My Little Pony managed to pull some insanely paced episodes, like the Empire City episodes for SU, and the episode in which the Cutie Mark Crusaders finally got their Cutie Marks. Musicals are insane when it comes to this.

And something that you have to realize: While for movies and books certain Beat Sheets (Save the Cat is not the only one) work rather well, those Beat Sheets usually do not work well for Shows. And currently we are living in a time, where this becomes very noticable - because a lot of modern shows are written and aired as basically 4-8 hour movies, using often just the "Save the Cat" beat sheet (if you have read Save the Cat, you will see it EVERYWHERE, because it is so frequently used in western media), but... obviously, Save the Cat is made for something that has 2 hours, and as such a lot of modern media feels strangely slow and stretched out.

Pacing, Streaming, and the supposed "filler episode"

(Yes, this needed to be the gif for this. Because no filler episode has lodged itself quite as strong into my brain as this one.)

So, let me talk about the issue in modern media. Because oh boy.

As I said: I hyperfixated on this specific writing skill forever - and as such I was annoyed by "filler episodes" in TV shows. To explain for the youngest people (not that I am assuming a lot of those are on this hellsite lol): "Filler" was the name given to material that did not move the plot forward at all. So a "filler episode" was an episode, that was just there to fill the episode slot for the week, while no plot was happening. I am not fully sure whether the term originated with anime - but at least back in the early 2000s, before Shonen-Anime were done as 12-26 seasons that then allowed the manga to get ahead in between, "filler" was also the name used for those story arcs that the anime people made up for shows like Naruto, One Piece or Dragonball, that were not in the manga - and hence obviously also never added to any overarching narrative.

And what can I say: We did not appreciate the filler episode enough. Because this related very much to the last part: While filler episodes did indeed not add to the plot and usually by definition did not the character development, they actually still added something often enough.

They allowed the audience to get to know the characters a bit better and get a better feeling for the character relationships - and those episodes take out a bit of speed, which is actually important.

As said before: The pacing should not be even throughout an entire piece of media. In a TV series after an episode that was especially tense and pushed the plot or characters forward a lot, there should be ideally at least one or two episodes that move forward slower or even not at all. This allows the viewer to sit with the new developments for a bit - and of course the characters to have a moment to breathe and process whatever happened to them.

There is also the fact that those episodes usually give the audience a better understanding for the characters - and if you have an audience who at this point ideally care about some the characters, this will even be more successful.

And as I said. Back in ye olden days, a lot of people - me included - complained so much about Filler. But we were wrong. Fillers are amazing, as long as they do not overtake the whole show.

Pacing and Fantasy

Okay, let's talk about a thing, that is somewhat funny. A lot of fantasy - specifically written fantasy media - often has a pacing problem. And this problem comes from the Worldbuilding. Others forms of fantasy media (other than games - though pacing in games is whole different matter) have this too at times, but it tends to be worst in books.

Basically, when you are a fantasy worldbuilder, you have this whole world. And this leaves you with two problems.

a) You are afraid that people will not be able to follow the plot if you not give them a lot of information about this world and how it differs from ours.

b) Well, you build this entire world. And the people should KNOW.

So, a lot of fantasy media basically regularly will stop to explain to the reader or audience, whatever is happening right now. Some writers manage somewhat naturally put this in. Maybe they have a character that does not know a lot about for example magic or dragons, and they can ask questions and act as an audience stand-in. But even in cases, where the worldbuilding is somewhat brought in naturally (which by far is not all of them - because people usually do not naturally talk about stuff they both know, or think a lot about something they find naturally) those "explanation" pieces will make the plot come to a screeching halt.

So, the more worldbuilding you explain, the slower your pacing is.

And of course, pacing is not a reliable thing to keep people reading, and pacing will not always turn people off. But you know how people complain about how slow Lord of the Rings is? This is because of course, every time that Tolkien describes a piece of landscape over multiple pages, there is no plot happening on those pages. And while I personally think some of those descriptions are darn stunning, it is one of those things many people will not like.

However, this makes it a bit complicated. Because yes, worldbuilding explanations will slow down the pacing to a degree that can be problematic. But if you explain too little worldbuilding, people might struggle to follow the story. Which again is the most common problem if the pacing is "too fast" as well. Basically, people do not properly follow the plot and will struggle to understand what is happening and why.

But the opposite is true as well. I have read way too many fantasy books, where after the first 100 pages, I know a lot about the city the plot is set in, or about the magic system, but sadly have so far not been privy to any information what the plot is about, what the characters try to archive, or even who actually the characters are. And that, yeah... Is probably the most common reason why I put aside a variety of fantasy books in the past.

Pacing in Action-media vs anything else

Okay, let me talk about one other thing. See, the word "pacing" is at times used in some other context: In visual media, pacing will be used for the editing of what we see. Basically the amount of cuts that happen within a scene. Or, in a comic, the distribution of panels is also seen as a pacing element.

And anyone who heard people complain about how at times confusing the editing in action movies is, you know that this at times can get too much.

Still, in visual media action scenes feel usually fast - because the characters are moving around rather fast. In a visual piece of media, action scenes are often thrilling, because the characters are in constant danger of dying, and because a lot of stuff is happening. This often works better in visual media, than in written pieces. While it absolutely is possible to write thrilling action scenes, a lot of writers struggle with this, because they tend to overdescribe and that takes the speed out of the prose. But generally speaking, a couple of punches thrown - something that in a movie takes about 10 seconds - will in book easily end up in 200-500 words, which you will not read quite as fast. A bit more about that later.

And then there is the issue with the action scenes, that even is true for visual medial, is that they often really do not have any important plotbeats. Sure, if the characters have their final battle, that is a plot point. But in a lot of action media - especially TV shows - there are a lot of scenes included that really do not add anything, but just are there because folks love watching action scenes.

This goes so far, that people will think a show or movie with a lot of action scene will just be seen as "good fast pacing", even though if the actual pacing in terms of plot beats being spaced out is rather bad. As a good example I will once more nod at the Fast & Furious and the Mission Impossible movies, that often have horrid pacing and very confusing plots - but they do not feel really like it, because the movies are like 60% action scenes, and hence they do not feel like it when you watch them.

It can work at times. I spoke about my love of the F&F movies. Can I tell you a lot of the characters? Nope, but the action scenes are fun to watch!

But this also tends to mean, that in a badly paced movie or show, that is badly paced because the action scenes not adding any plot beats, everything tends to fall apart when the action scenes do not work. And often enough action scenes will still be prioritized over everything else in many of those pieces of media, making things fall apart easily.

Pacing in books vs visual media

I have hinted at this now multiple times: Written media is generally a bit harder to pace than visual media, because of the things you can and cannot control. While a writer in a book has full control over the scenario, a director of a show or movie had actually influence the timeflow of the things happening on screen. As a writer meanwhile you absolutely have no influence on the speed in which your reader will read.

Sure, you can somewhat influence it. Shorter sentences are easier read. An general lower reading level will allow people to read quicker. So simpler words, shorter words, shorter sentences will make parts appear quicker. You can use this for example in action scenes to have a bit more of this breathless feeling that an action scene on screen might have. Use short sentences. Do not link sentences up. Quick hits. Quick impressions. It can work - but it needs some training. Not to say it is fucking hard.

Generally speaking to my experience when you write a single novel, the "Save the Cat" Beat Sheet actually works rather well, if you are the kind of writer who is fairly good at planning things out. If I actually try, I will usually manage to plan out a story and predict fairly well how many words a chapter will have. So yes, for books I can very much use "Save the Cat" and it will work.

However, some things simply work a lot better when you have visual parts going on - but there are other things you can do better when you do not have the visual stuff. For example: A writer can do much more when it comes to motivation and introspection of characters. Yes, this slows down the pacing - but it is something that writing has basically over any form of media that is not a musical. (In a Musical you can characters do introspection through songs. Musicals are the ultimate way of cheating. I love them!)

Something I feel so many writers struggle with in terms of books is actually putting in a clear goal for the character from the beginning. Again: I have put too many books aside where I reached page 100 and did not yet have any goal for the main character.

That goal you give them does not necessarily need to be their final goal. Again: A lot of western storytelling deals with the incongruent nature of a characters "needs" (aka something that would actually help them) with the character's "wants" (aka what they think they would need). But at the very least the plot needs something that it can head towards from the very beginning - a hook to capture the reader.

There might be readers that are absolutely fine with just reading an exercise in worldbuilding - but you cannot expect them to be.

#writing advice #writing #media criticism #fandom meta #media analysis #writing community #writing tips #writing resources #pacing #storytelling #narrative #story structure #streaming #long post

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reallyromealone · 1 year ago

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Title: Accidental mating

Fandom: criminal minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Chapter: one

Warnings: male reader, omega verse, mpreg, enemies to lovers, Omega male reader

🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘🌑

(name) woke to voices, muffled and distant as he snuggled into the nest, cum leaking from him as he stared off "Hey, Hun" a female voice spoke out and (name) focused his bleary eyes to see Prentiss crouching before him "You handled this well, kid" she said softly "think you can get up?" She asked and (name) shakily stood up, hips burning and Hickeys and Bite marks everywhere "Wow, you two went at each other" she teased and (name) glared, though he wouldn't admit it it was one of the better fucks he had in a while.

(Name) walked out into the living room to see the team, the assistant groaning in embarrassment as his boss swiftly checked him over worried "I should have checked the calendar, his ruts next week-- well it was supposed to be next week" he said worried and (name) just sighed "can we just pretend this didn't happen? It was an accident, one was claimed and I frankly just wanna go home and take a nap" he said simply, the team looked worried, Spencer refusing to make eye contact with the Omega that he had speared on his cock a few hours ago, he couldn't believe he accidentally shared a rut with (name).

The two were constantly at each other's throats, bickering about something or another--- frankly, the team thought they fought like a married couple. (Name) and Reid avoided one another like it was the plague, neither wanting to deal with the other or even thinking of bringing up what they call the "incident" and giving looks if anyone dared bring it up.

"Again?" Prentiss asked confused and (name) sighed as he sipped water "Yeah, I think I'm coming down with something..." He didn't wanna be sick, it was the last thing he needed "Well make sure to rest up" she said as (name) went to bring a coffee to hotch, Prentiss quickly went to Penelope"ok I might be wrong but I think (name) might be--'"--pregnant? Oh absolutely, he could barely stomach the smell of (drink) and he drinks it as he breathes it" the hacker said not even surprised at the concept of pregnancy, it had been weeks since the "incident" and the two worried about how it would go, it was too late for him to get an abortion this late.

"How do we bring this up?" Prentiss whispered as Morgan came to drop off papers to Penelope "Bring what up?"

"(Name)s pregnancy to (name)"

"/what/" the three halted as Spencer looked horrified at their words "he's pregnant?!" The Alpha did the math in his head before rushing to find the Omega "Reid!" Morgan tried to stop him but it was too late, the brunette was gone.

"(Name)!" Reid hissed out as he found the Omega alone in the breakroom, working on some stuff as Hotch had a meeting and his desk was in his office "What Ried" the other man said disinterested as he looked up to the seething Alpha "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?! Why did you keep it?!"

"Ried what the hell are you talking about, I'm not pregnant"

"What?"

"As far as I'm aware I'm not pregnant..."

"Thank god, fucking thank god!"

"I haven't done a test or anything but I don't think I am, wow so relieved not to parent with me are we?"

Ried rolled his eyes before speaking "Well now that that's sorted--" but I should take a test... I have been nauseous..."

"Pardon?"

"It's better to be safe"

Three pregnancy tests stood before them, a timer for each as (name) fidgeted, playing calm but Spencer could read him. He was nervous. Anxious even.

"If I am... Pregnant, you don't have to take custody, no child support or anything" (name) 's voice was barely above A whisper "I know co-parenting with me would be the last thing you would ever want" Spencer looked at him confused but remembered his reaction earlier, the Omega couldn't break away from the sticks as the timer went off. "Pregnant...pregnant... Pregnant" (name) 's voice was watery as he realized that yes, he was pregnant.

Pregnant with the most pretentious asshole he ever met.

"I'll take responsibility"

"What?" (Name) was on the verge of tears as his emotions were building "I'll take responsibility, they're my kid too"

"A-alright..." (Name) whispered as he shakily took the pregnancy tests put them in the plastic bag from the store and walked out, currently figuring out what he was going to do, he was an unmarried and not mated pregnant Omega, he would need a bigger apartment... Oh god, he needed to get things in order...

(--e), (--me)... (Name)!" (Name) jolted out of his thoughts as Hotch looked at him worried, his assistant looking like he had gone through hell as he tried getting back into a work mindset "O-oh! Sorry sir!" He said nervously and he was so thankful to be wearing scent blockers so the whole floor didn't reek of anxiety and panic" Are you alright?" He asked with genuine worry and (name) swollowed "I-I... Could I talk to you in your office?"

Spencer came out of the staff room looking panicked as he spotted Morgan and rushed to him "I have a problem" he said rushing as he led Morgan to an empty corner "What's up pretty boy?" The other alpha was worried for his close friend "I-I got (name) pregnant, I fucked up" Morgan had a feeling this was coming, his best friend panicked and stressed "Hey, what happened between you two was an accident but what you two gotta do now is figure out how to not go at each other's throats for this kid" he said softly to the genius who looked even more stressed on how he was going to interact with (name).

"That baby is gonna need two functional parents, especially during the pregnancy, I'm not saying be besties just... Stop pointing out every mistake he makes" something Reid did specifically to annoy (name), "maybe be nice to him... You may see good results"

"I'm pregnant" (name) said barely above a whisper and Hotch looked beside himself, guilt evident on his face "I'm so sorry... If I hadn't sent you--"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted"

"You are the best boss I have ever had and if I hear you blame yourself for something no one could have expected, I will throw my shoe at you" (name) said simply and the Alpha chuckled "You have been hanging around Garcia to much" the room felt lighter and (name) looked at him seriously "would you be a godparent? Over these years working with you, I have seen you as a very close friend and it would mean the world to me"

"(Name), I would be honored to be that pup godfather"

(Name) spent the week during his free time looking for apartments, sighing as he was rejected time after time, a pregnant single Omega wasn't something many renters wanted to rent out to...

"What are you doing?" Spencer raised an eyebrow at the other who glanced up "Apartment hunting, I need space for the pup" (name) was just starting to show slightly, the Omega putting plans in motion for his pup and how his life will project "I was wondering... Do you want to join me for my first ultrasound?" (Name) asked softly, the Omega extending an olive branch to the Alpha... "You want me there?" Spencer asked softly and (name) sighed "They're your pup too"

"Y-yeah... I guess"

"My appointment is at 2:45 pm on Tuesday, planned parenthood, if you're late I won't let you come to another one"

"Fair enough"

#criminal minds x male reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x reader #omega male reader #omega reader #omegaverse #male reader #x male reader

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bl-inded · 1 month ago

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Faifa deserved to have better friends in the show! Because they didn't give him that, I think Yotha is just bearing the brunt of the show deciding Faifa only needed (romantic) "love" to be "seen". And Yotha is sadly the only one who talks about Faifa constantly enough to have to deal with it.

Listen, I love this show, especially the faifawine arc (honestly, because of the faifawine arc!). But this arc uses a storyline that I hate so much- "you just haven't met the right person" and somehow handles it so beautifully! Because the concept isn't that Wine was enough to change Faifa, it is that they loved each other enough to be a positive influence on each other. And that I 100% believe in and will always eat up!

But Faifa had virtually no friends in figuring anything out!! He is a very private person, obviously, he bottles everything up! And this arc was supposed to be about him not doing that anymore.

(ep22)

They made it a point to show us how often Faifa shows up for other people (which is constantly) and that is the reason most of us fell in love with him.

And when his arc started I was really excited about him finding love, but I was soooo excited to see Phuri, who was apparently his only real friend!

Louis is a delight in this show! Steals every scene he is in. What Phuri unfortunately isn't, is a good friend to Fa (at least he doesn't have enough screentime to prove otherwise). I love their playful banter, but he doesn't even do as much as Ben and Jay!

No one shows up for Faifa except Wine.

(ep21)

And Yotha- he shows up for Faifa when there is an external conflict. He's never been good with emotions.

(ep20)

I mean, he was so bad with Gun, Arm and Fa had to play mediator. So it's not a shock that he doesn't see Faifa is in soo much pain because of what their mom did. Yotha understands anger; he doesn't understand sadness over something that should make Fa angry.

(ep16)

But he still understands Faifa! (He's probably the only one at the table to make this connection and continues to do nothing about it :) )

(ep18)

And I think that's why he's getting so much flak. I think he's getting a disproportionate amount of hate (and defence) for what is happening to Faifa. But I'm still mad at Yotha, and this is why I feel justified about it.

I'm mad at Yotha because I want Faifa to be mad at Yotha. Because Yotha might be the safest person for Faifa to show his anger to, and he's too scared to do that, too! They are brothers, and it doesn't matter if it wasn't Yotha's responsibility to inform Fai of anything about his mother's flight being delayed- Yotha knew, and that alone should let Faifa be whiny and angry- but he wasn't.

(ep21)

I am angry because having a fight, showing you're upset, and knowing that your relationship is stronger than that is a privilege - one that Faifa doesn't seem to allow himself to have. If he has it with anyone, it should be with Yotha (or Phuri, if the show gave him anything to do at all, but I digress).

We, as the audience, have seen Yotha, we know him, and we know he loves Faifa. And knowing he loved Fa makes it so much worse that he still doesn't feel loved or wanted. I don't think Yotha is a bad brother or a bad character. In fact, I'm angry because he's a well-written character!

(ep13) (Like, where did this Yotha go after he got a boyfriend??!)

It just seems like the show decided that he is going to be a Gun simp and nothing else. And that falls back into another trope I hate. Being in a romantic relationship is not an excuse to ignore everyone in your life. Priorities can change, but not to the extent that you only have one priority! Yotha is a better brother than that, and I think we deserve to see that side of him as well!

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seokmattchuus · 6 months ago

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Prove It - Seok Matthew (Extended Ver.)

A/n: 1. Ignore the gif, I found it in my files and decided it was The One™ 2. A single person asked for this and who am I to deny them (I have had the worst writers block, and this was doable). You're welcome, or I'm sorry, I don't know. 3. I don't remember if this was proofread.

Coming home early wasn't an often occurrence. Being a teacher, you were technically supposed to be home an hour after dismissal, but realistically, you weren't home till early evening. Today, however, was a half day, and you were more than happy to be able to spend the rest of your day cuddled up with your boyfriend.

You didn't expect to walk into an empty home, but you perked up when you heard him on the phone in your shared bedroom. You excitedly placed your bags down and made your way to the room, your hand reaching for the door before the sound of the other person speaking up stopped you.

"Does it ever kill you that she's two years older?" You overheard Hanbin through Matthew's phone. "I mean. Everyone knows you like being called 'oppa', are you okay with her never calling you that?"

"It's not like she hasn't called me it before." Matthew scoffed. "She's called me 'oppa' plenty of times." He was lying, but Hanbin didn't know that.

"Playfully, probably." Hanbin's voice flattened.

"Dude. It's not a deal breaker." Matthew defended. "So what if she doesn't say it? It's not like I'll die if I don't hear it." He paused. "Besides, she's a foreigner. She barely uses honorifics with anyone."

"I see how your ears perk up when girls call y-"

You quickly removed yourself from earshot. Your eyes quickly scanning for the quietest way out of the area.

You slowly made your way back to the door before opening it and closing it harsher than before so he could hear.

"Babe, I'm home!" You called, staying in place in case he made his way towards you.

There was a moment of silence before you heard him coming out of the room.

"You're home early." He smiled at you. He really didn't look like he was having the conversation he was. "I was expecting you a little later."

"You say that like you had plans." You raised a playful brow. "Don't tell you threw her in the closet?"

"Closet?" He scoffed as he made his way towards you, throwing his arms around you. "She jumped out the window when she heard you pull up."

You both laughed as he placed a kiss on your cheek, and you wondered if he really meant what he said.

"So why are you early?" He smiled as he pulled away, leading the both of you to the couch.

You'd never used honorifics, he was right about that, but you wanted to test just how 'okay' he was with you not calling him anything.

"I was grading papers with Taekwoon oppa." You scanned his face for a reaction. "He's been helping me a lot with Korean. I'm even getting more comfortable with honorifics." You put a smile on your face.

"Oh?" He said, his tone unreadable. "Who else do use honorifics with?"

His voice trailed off and it killed you inside. You shouldn't have said anything, but why wouldn't he just tell you to call him that to begin with? You would have gladly done it. But with how he seems to want to keep it hidden, how could you bring it up first? What if he said he didn't mean it or brushed you off?

"Just him for now." You nodded. "Everyone else around me is either my age or younger." You shrugged. It was true. The school you worked for was relatively new, so it was full of mostly new graduates. The only people older than you were admin, but you rarely ever ran into them because Taekwoon handled everything as the head teacher.

There was a silence that took over and you shuffled in your spot.

"What made him the first guy you use honorifics with?" His gave you a glace, a firm hand falling on your knee. It would have been harmless had you not known the context.

"He takes care of me a lot." You started, and his hand on you tightened. "He's also always looking out for me. He took the blame for a couple of my fuck ups, too."

You paused as you thought about your next statement.

"And he's not a 'guy' to you. He's a hyung." You corrected him, trying to sound like you were upset over it.

He rose a brow at you.

"Not the foreigner correcting my Korean." He scoffed, his annoyance growing the longer you talked about him.

"Tough talk for another foreigner, Mr. Maple." You reminded him. "And you can't blame me for assimilating." You shrugged, the silence slowly creeping back in your space.

"He is some guy to me, though." His hand removed itself from you. "I'm literally always taking care of you, too." Disbelief coated his tone as he turned to fully look at you. "That time when you got too drunk at your staff party and I carried you home." He started. "That time when your ankles were cut from your shoes being too tight so I ran to get you some slippers and a first aid kit from the nearest convenience store." He continued, his speech picking up in pace. "Not to mention I always take you your stuff before you even realize you've forgotten it." He paused. "Doesn't that count as taking care of you?"

There it was.

"I'm older than you. Not to mention we're dating. I thought you were just being caring. In love and all that." You reminded him. You were going to get him to air it out. "I think you keep forgetting that aspect." You sighed. "When an older person takes care of you, it's different."

"I'm younger but you had no problem calling me 'daddy'." He scoffed at your reasoning, landing him a pillow to the face. He spoke up after recovering. "Calling me 'oppa' wouldn't kill you."

"That was just once." You muttered in defense. "And I was drunk." You cleared your throat, surprised at how quickly the conversation turned.

"Keep telling yourself that." He rolled his eyes. "Besides, it wouldn't hurt to say it just once." He leaned in, his face right in front of yours. "I won't tell anyone." He said in a sing-song voice.

It was your turn to snicker now. You expected him to take the jealous route, not playful. But there was a part of you that wanted to see where he was going with this.

"What's it to you?" You tilted your head. "I thought you liked being my little baby~" You teased, your hand going to pinch his cheek. He groaned, swatting your hand away.

"Because I'm not a little baby." He narrowed his eyes at you. "It's two years between us. Not twenty." You watched as he kept the look on his face.

"How about this." You started. "I'll say it once."

"How about always?" He was quick to respond, giving you his best puppy eyes and you couldn't help but want to cave.

"Since you want it so bad," You paused, watching his expression turn expectant. "What do I get if I do it?"

His eyebrow twitched as the latter part of your sentence came out.

"How about a bet, then?" He smiled as he leaned over you, your back gradually leaning until you were laying on the couch. "If you can keep quiet until I'm done with you, I'll drop it."

You swallowed at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Did a simple title mean that much to him?

His arm moved to support him while he hovered over you and you could feel his thigh moving to press on your own in an attempt to open them. The little amount of space giving you no room to try and fight it.

"But if you can't." He smirked, his head dipping down so his lips were brushing lightly against yours. "You can't call me anything else."

His thigh had succeeded in passing yours and you let out a shaky breath at the contact. His eyes flicked towards yours and you saw the corner of his mouth curve into a smirk.

"Deal?"

It wasn't like you to give in so easily, even if you looked like you would. But something about seeing this side of him made you want more. Despite the tiny age gap you had, he didn't submit to you, and you never dominated him. But there were lines you never really crossed when it came to sex. He never pushed you too hard and you never tested him.

Until today.

"We have a deal." You mimicked his smirk as you toyed with the top button of his shirt. "But what do I get if I make it?" You tilted your head slightly as you freed the top button, working your way down.

He closed the gap between the two of you, his lips working gently against yours as he let out a shaky breath from your cold hands grazing his torso.

"You're already losing, baby." You smirked as you pulled away, giving him your most innocent gaze. "So much for being an 'oppa'." You whispered the last part.

His thigh finally pressed firmly against you, your pencil skirt riding up with it. You stiffened at the force but stayed quiet.

"It's a matter of pride at this point, baby." You smiled sweetly as you pulled his shirt down his shoulders, your fingers softly running over his arms in admiration. "If you want to be an oppa so bad," You paused as you licked your lips.

"Prove it."

"I just realized." He smirked as he used his free hand to pull his shirt completely off. "I've never called you noona to your face." He chuckled before getting up and walking backwards. "Only to others when I'm talking about you." He was leaning on the corner of the wall.

"Is this your way of accepting you're not oppa material?" You sat up, partially annoyed that he just up and left you.

"No." He said. "I was expecting you to follow." He turned and kept walking, his back disappearing from view. "The bed's bigger than the couch, y'know." He called out.

Your eyes squinted at the thought of what he was planning but you were also too worked up to care. You slowly got up and made your way to your shared bedroom, partially taken back when you saw the bed empty and Matthew standing by the door.

"Go ahead, noona, lay down. Get comfortable." He nudged with his head and you stared skeptically.

Despite your doubts, your hands moved to remove the skirt, your hips swaying as you pushed them down. You watched as he looked you over before you moved towards the bed and sat down.

"Pretty boy," You started as you removed your own shirt, smiling as his eyes went straight to your chest. "Noona doesn't have the same effect on me," You paused to slowly trail your hands behind you to undo your bra. You lightly tossed it off the bed before you were back on your chest, fingers gently running over your nipples as you whispered your next sentence. "As oppa does on you."

His jaw tightened as he watched you, and he was tempted to throw his whole plan out of the window. Sure, it was a stretch to think the word would work on you, but you miss all the shots you don't take.

"What can oppa do to me that I can't already do to myself?" You challenged as you rose a brow, your hands moving to your underwear and slipping inside. It was about time you got somewhere with this.

"Show me how much you can do then." His thumb was digging its nail into his index finger as he watched you. "But don't cry about it when you can't make yourself cum."

There was a minor truth to his words. Since the start of your relationship, you'd never needed to touch yourself or use your toys. He'd left you more than satisfied and now you were nervous your shit talking was about to backfire.

You moved back until you were snug against the headboard, your eyes darting towards the nightstand where your toys laid.

"Don't you think that's cheating, noona?" He tsked. "You said what you could do. Toys don't count." He smiled slyly. "Besides, the last time you used them, they were in my hand." He scoffed at the memory. "And you couldn't keep too quiet."

You momentarily forgot about the deal, and you scratched the idea. Your eyes fell back on his and you reached for the waistband of your underwear, slowly peeling them off before tossing them to the side. You didn't miss how his eyes traced every move you made, but you didn't call him out on it.

You didn't bother teasing yourself. Not only because you were already turned on, but this wasn't about getting off; it was about making him cave. It was also about being able to stay quiet. If you weren't committed, it'd be easier to win.

Your hands were quick to slide past your clit and into you. Your fingers weren't as long as his, giving you absolutely nothing. You let out a small, frustrated sigh.

"I heard that." He was quick to call.

"But you're not the one causing it." You countered. "So, it doesn't count." He rolled his eyes.

You were both too stubborn to cave, your egos too strong to want to admit defeat. But maybe he'd cave if you put a little more effort into your show. He was always quick to jump at a chance to please you.

When he saw you avoiding your clit, he knew you were stalling. His head tilted slightly as he watched your squirm from the lack of stimulation.

"I can help." His voice was sickly sweet, and your stomach tightened. "You know I'm better at this than you are." He moved towards you, slowly getting on the bed.

His words were proven true when he slapped your hand away, quickly replacing it with his own. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, eyes closing when his thumb met your clit.

"You're all talk noona," He tsked. "I don't know why you make things harder for yourself."

You couldn't respond. You knew the second you opened your mouth, you'd make a sound that would count against you. You weren't even sure if he was keeping count or if you'd lose the second anything slipped out of you.

"What's wrong, baby?" He teased, using the same tone you did when you called him the same name earlier. He angled his fingers, a surge of pride flowing through him when a whine came out of you. "There she is~" He cooed, his thumb running harsh circles against your clit.

This was about getting you off. And his actions mixed with the way he looked down at you had you clenching. It was embarrassing how quickly he turned things around.

"Don't tell me you're cumming already?" He pouted down at you, quickly removing his hand, letting out a sadistic laugh when your fist balled up to keep quiet. "Where's the fun in that?" His fingers ghosted over your legs, the feeling making your thighs shake.

"Maybe I should make you beg me to let you cum." His eyes lit up at the thought. "You'd definitely be a mess at that point, no?"

"That's not fair." You were sporting your own pout this time while you tried to control your breathing. "So much for not cheating."

"Don't look at me like that noona." He tilted his head to the side, his fingers slowly making their way back to you. "All you had to do was say one little word but no," He cooed at you. "You wanted to make it interesting." He held back a laugh as you flinched when his finger ghosted over your clit. The corner of his lip twitching into a smirk instead.

"You could have told me you wanted me to call you that little word." Your voice was strained as he kept his contact light. "I would have done it, y'know."

His eyebrow rose, but he rewarded your hypothetical compliance with more pressure.

"Well, when you put it that way," He started, his finger working faster against you. "It makes this little bet seem worthless, no?" He licked his lips when your hand came up to grab at his forearm. "Too bad my ego's already bruised."

His free hand moved to grab your wrist before collecting the other one and pinning them above your head before his fingers were back in you. Same angle, faster pace.

You really chose the wrong button to push.

"C'mon, noona," He rasped when you immediately clenched around him again. "Just give up, already." His tone was softer, trying to coax you before leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth pulled at it while looking up at you. He let go, placing a kiss over your breast. "Wouldn't it be more enjoyable if you didn't have to fight it so hard?"

You let out a shaky breath. As much as you wanted to, something inside you refused to let yourself fail that easily. But at the same time, his fingers just felt too good.

"I know you're close," He groaned. "I can feel it." His eyes softened, pleading while letting out a moan of his own. "Just let go, noona."

His moan trigged something inside you and your legs shook as a pathetic cry slipped past you. You couldn't help the whines that followed while he helped you ride out your orgasm, his thumb hitting your clit intentionally. His hold on your wrists constant while he let you come down.

"Sounds like you lost." He chuckled and your eyes widened. You were about to cut him off and accuse him of cheating when he spoke up again.

"Did I take care of you?" He asked innocently, his hand slipping away from you and towards his mouth, his mouth covering them to clean them. His eyes stayed on yours until he finished. "In a way that Taekwoon couldn't?"

You didn't bother entertaining him. Too focused on trying to get your wrists out of his hold.

"We both know I'm stronger than you." His hold tightened and pushed your wrists further into the mattress as if to prove he wasn't using full force. "So, let's not embarrass you anymore."

"I'm not embarrassed. I'm mad you cheated." You narrowed your eyes at him. "Don't think I missed the mild overstimulation you tried."

He shrugged his shoulders, a sly smirk growing.

"It was an accident."

You fought more in his hold, wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

"I'll let you go if you ask nicely." His smirk was now fully on display, giving your wrists another squeeze as if to remind you of the bet.

You both held eye contact as if the other would cave the longer you stared. He played dirty and you were still upset.

"If you say it, I'll give you a reward~" He cooed and you tried to buck him off of you, your face reddening as the situation wasn't in your favor. "Say the magic words and it's all over." He smirked, radiating pride as he watched you struggle.

"Let me go, please." You narrowed your eyes, still defiant. Even when he leaned back over you, his eyes right above yours.

"Try that one more time." There was a shift in his tone that had you swallowing hard.

You took a deep breath.

"Please, oppa." You said through gritted teeth. "Let me go."

You saw his lips tug again.

"Since you made me jealous earlier, don't you think it's fair I get to do the same?" He tilted his head and your eyes narrowed at him again. He debated on if his next sentence would land the way he hoped. "Say it the way Ji-"

"Oppa," You put some sweetness in your tone, a stark contradiction to the sudden strength your gained in trying to get out his hold. He was momentarily stunned before regaining control. "Please let me go."

"Well now I'm scared." He started.

"Don't be, oppa." Your eyes were already on the pillow to your side. At least he could die happy. "Why would you be scared of little ol' me."

"Actually. We can just chill right here." He nodded. "Neither of us have plans."

"Matthew." You started. "You have three seconds." You smiled up at him. "If you're such an oppa, I shouldn't be this scary to you."

He reluctantly let you go but was quick enough to jump to the other side of the bed to avoid you lunging at him. You were also just as quick to grab the pillow and make it on top of him, the pillow colliding with face.

"Who was she?" You said as you hit him again.

"I made up a name! I swear!!" He yelled before grabbing at the pillow and throwing it. His hands grabbing your wrists again when you reached for his shoulders. "Pinky promise." He tried, bringing your hands to his lips so he could press a kiss to them. "How can I make it up to you?"

You gave him a frown and moved to get up, his hands moving to your hips to keep you in place.

"C'mon~" He whined. "There has to be something."

He was too cute to stay mad at. You'd get him back later.

"You could start by joining me." You motioned to your naked form. You got up to give him space to work with.

"You gotta admit, though." He watched your face as his hands went for his belt. "Calling you noona did do something for you." He gave you a knowing look. "I've never made you cum that quick."

"Do you not remember you moaned when you said it?" You gave him a small slap against his chest while he threw his belt to the side. "And you did that thing where you made your eyes all cute." You slapped him again, his laugh filling the room. "You could say anything acting like that and I'd probably cave."

"Really, now?" He smirked at the confession, his hands moving to unbutton his pants, the sound of his zipper following. "Then forgive me for the jealousy thing." His eyes held the look you just described. He let out a small 'hm?' that sounded too much like a moan.

"Oppa was wrong."

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shallowseeker · 18 days ago

Note

diff anon: I agree w your perspective on jack and dean, obviously dean didn't handle things particularly well, but then, I dont think any of us would in a situation as complicated as that. I think a lot of the "dean was the worst parent!!" arguments ignore the fact that dean was not obligated to be a parent and didn't want to be one (at least not to what was potentially a very dangerous entity, especially one that killed his mother), it was forced on him. which you'd think would add to the 'bad parent dean' trope, and a lot of people take it that way. but for me it explains a lot, people assume dean was jack's parental figure from day one and therefore all his actions to deal with jack fall under the category of 'parenting' (a lot of people also contradict themselves when it comes to jack and dean's relationship so bear with me if this gets a little confusing).

dean doesn't see himself as jack's parent or family in anyway at first. so he's not thinking 'what can I do to parent this child and look after him', obviously his initial actions won't reflect good 'parenting' because that's not remotely what he's trying to do. he's trying to grieve his mother, assess a potential threat, and prepare himself to eliminate it because when does anything ever go right for the winchesters? especially not when fast growing babies are involved. so yeah for me personally, my assessment of dean's parenting tends to come after he starts to forge that bond with jack because it seems unfair to score someone in a category that they didn't enter into when they're running a completely different race (sorry idk if my sports metaphors are making any sense it's like 4am and I am so tired).

idk I feel like the assumptions that 1. jack is functionally and developmentally a child (he's not really) and 2. dean had an obligation to parent him in the first place,, kind of skew fandom perspective on the situation. don't get me wrong, it's fine to criticise how he dealt with it and analyse his position in jack's life, I just don't think 'dean is an actively malicious parent' (implied or overt) is an accurate representation of canon. like you said tho, it's their prerogative to interpret it the way they want. (sorry if I just repeated anything you said, I hope this is at least coherent??)

Yeah. WE AGREE. I feel like if fandom could draw a divider line between early and later days in Jack's life, it would help a lot with the analyses feeling more balanced/in good faith.

NOT TO MENTION... Hey HI HELLO CONTEXT->

Dean warmed up to Jack after just, like 14 days???! That's... pretty crazy.

IMPORTANT TOO IS THAT, once Jack learned the root of Dean's grief, it completely re-contextualized "Dean wanting to kill him being scary," and intuitive little shit he is, JACK GOT THAT!!!! He even got mad at SAM instead for obfuscating all of that.

(Jack, for all his fear of "not feeling enough feelings" is a character who is more intuitive then even he himself knows. JUST LOOK at him and Dean with MIA compared to Sam!!!!!)

And just... HEY THAT WHOLE TIMELINE. IS. WILD. CAS WAS ONLY GONE A MONTH AT MOST!!!!! PROBABLY LESSSSSSSS...

SO YEAH!!!! WE ARE DANCING BECAUSE IF WE DIVIDE IT LIKE THIS (with your examples), it gets more interesting and clear I think

INITIALLY:

Dean didn’t see himself as Jack’s parent or feel any obligation to parent him.

I mean it's not just Lucifer's child but also the child of the woman, Cas, uh, LEFT him for. AHEM.

Dean's actions were driven by grief (over Cas, over Mary) and logical fear (that Jack was a dangerous threat).

Judging his early behavior as "bad parenting" is misplaced, because he wasn’t trying to parent and it's grossly UNFAIR to expect that of him—he was assessing a REAL POTENTIAL THREAT and coping with trauma.

IMHO I agree that the fandom assumption that Jack is a child and Dean was supposed to parent him distorts this early dynamic in ESPECIALLY IN BIG WAYS

///

LATER:

Dean begins to form a bond with Jack... and this is when a parental dynamic starts to develop.

Even that is whacky fast. BECAUSE!!!! After the initial HALF-MONTH OR MONTH of being in the same space, Jack promptly runs away and bless him, he APPEARS to go on a FUCKIN killing spree, so Dean was preparing himself for the worst.

I mean SURE Dean was almost-instantly "fond of the kid" in the month he had him before this, and he jumped into teaching him to read a map on the road trip to Tombstone (Note: Jack's BEST MEMORY IN HEAVEN) but personally EYE don't think it's until Jack said THIS that the parenting even fully crystallized (13x09 The Bad Place)

To ME: This is the moment that reads OHhhhhhhhh SHIT I MIGHT HAVE AN ACTUAL KID that lives w me and knows the full scope of both me and my life I DIDN'T THINK I'D GET THAT (script 14x19 you live in infamy for this line)

AFTER THAT, JACK WAS DEAN'S TOO-GOOD-TO-BE-TRUE. His captive music affectionado. His TV buddy. If you care.

He was even almost the "death that Dean would not survive," pretty literally with the Equalizer. Jack IS the thing that triggered Dean's existential crisis. That's not nothin.’

IN A WAY, The BEFORE AND AFTER with the Dean and Jack dynamic is epically demonstrated... by this:

& this

////

From this point on, it’s more fair to see Dean’s actions in a "parenting" context. Dean refer to Jack as HIS kid to Lily Sunder, and he OFC gives himself and Jack codenames of father and son in Optimism.

And on numerous occasions AFTER THIS, Jack calls Dean his dad. (Aside/// OFC Jack is FUNDAMENTALLY a child raised by a village, not a nuke fam.)

It's not really until AFTER Apocalypse-World that Jack bonds strongly with any of them, but especially with Cas and Dean. I would say that bond with Dean and Cas really cements itself after 13x22 & 13x23.

You have my full heart on this -> -> Yes, while criticism is cool, labeling Dean as an actively malicious parent I think tends to misrepresent canon. Because it's important to consider context of the AWFUL situation!!! Yissss.

Also to me it's less fun to miss out on the VERY important and crunchy crunchy fact that Jack and Dean are fucked up in similar core ways and will forgive each other instantly for the fucked-up things that they fundamentally agree with in their family-loving, burden-shouldering little hearts (which includes murders and/or suicides for the good of all). ILTSM. <3

///

AFTER-MARY'S DEATH:

This should probably get it's own divider because for fucks' sake, that's Dean's MOM THAT DIED... not to mention symbolic death of HIS KID AS HE KNEW HIM. (And the death of Dean's future... the future he finally FINALLY visualized for himself.) That said, this is the most complicated part of all!!!

As for Dean's existential crisis, well, this is ALREADY too long. But most of you know where I stand on that, I hope? I feel like I've talked a lot about Dean's nervous breakdown AS a nervous breakdown (analogous to Sam's s1/s4/s8 nervous breakdowns, and Cas's s7/s8-9/s11-2 nervous breakdowns, and Mary's s12 nervous breakdown... there are enough nervous breakdowns to go around, surely????)

The sundering of Jack as family is a super important facet of the breakdown, because Dean has to do that to stomach Jack's sacrifice. Dean is no stranger to trying to sunder family. He tells Bobby that Bobby's not his father. He tries to kill Sam with a hammer.

Dean snaps out of it (too late) and kills death, just like in s10 with Sam, which is the point. SPN just needs, like... one more season to stick the themes, I think.

//////////////

I mostly just repeated you. But please take this answer with a slice of pizza and forgive the rambling because I don't have the energy to clean my asks up anymore.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#asks #i'm.... not gonna clean up my answer #enjoy this from my uncleaned-up drafts of hell #jack and dean

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spookymystery67 · 6 months ago

Text

I Wish I Could Walk in Heels

AN: Alright, finally got this one done! It's a longer chapter than what I've been putting out recently so I hope you all enjoy it. Take it as an apology to make up for my slacking. I had planned to get it done in October, but then I got really hyperfixated on the live action and anime One Piece (still am to be honest). About 109 episodes in on the anime and have A LOT more to go lol. Anyways, enjoy!

Ps, this chapter is a little angsty. Little bit. At least I think it is. Also has gun violence and typical RE stuff. I noticed I gave up on the TW so hope none of you got traumatized. I don't think I write anything too crazy. We should all know what we've signed up for by now, right?

Chapter 23:

“My, you are a popular one, Luis.”

Ada's comment rang very true. Your eyes struggled to see through the harsh rain from the storm that seemed to appear so suddenly. Even so, you could still see the torches and hear the angry chanting of the villagers surrounding the house you and Ada were supposed to meet Luis at. If you had to guess, nearly every infected citizen of Los Iluminados was in attendance of your little get together.

“I don't remember inviting them to the party.” You half-heartedly joked as you ran along Ada's side, falling slightly behind her once you reached a rickety old, wood and rope bridge that groaned and creaked too much for comfort. “You?”

Your love huffed a weak smile, but could not respond when a sudden and harsh shake of the ground shook the fragile bridge and sent you both scrambling for something stable to balance and hold on to, so as to not fall to your doom.

Another shake.

You both glanced behind you.

Another.

This time closer. Something big is coming.

Ada tightly grabbed hold of you for what seemed like the millionth time in one night, grappling you both to the closest and safest roof top and off the bridge. This, somehow, gathered the attention of some of the villagers.

You stared in disbelief at the snarling giant that walked into the, already chaotic, scene.

“What in the actual fuck is that?” Even with all your prior experience with what should be impossible creatures, you are still somehow always shocked and horrified by something new.

At least you were never bored.

The giant took notice of you and Ada, before charging in your direction. Ada took action and zipped the two of you off of the roof of the now destroyed house, landing you both safely on the ground. The giant yelled angrily at missing, and turned around to face you once more.

“You deal with the villagers while I handle this?” Ada muttered to you, grappling hook in hand and ready to swing on the houses to avoid the creature while simultaneously weakening it.

Noting your inability to deal with such a huge foe, you nodded in agreement. “Be safe.”

She squeezed your hip in acknowledgment before fully pulling away. “You as well, dear.”

With that, she turned to face the giant head on. “Sorry big guy. Can't let you go that way.”

And off she went to fight and distract the giant from getting to the house. While she did that, you ran to a safe distance away from the crushing footsteps and the crumbling houses, picking off the infected stragglers that roamed the area as swiftly and quietly as possible.

You didn't want Ada to have more on her plate than she already has.

Quiet wasn't an issue. If anything managed to hear you over the chanting villagers, roaring giant, and the howling wind and rain, you'd be genuinely surprised. And maybe even a little impressed.

Eventually, the giant fell on top of the two remaining villagers you didn't get to, dead. All was silent at last, with the exception of the pouring rain that was turning into more of a light drizzle, showing some sign of slowing down for at least a little while.

You saw Ada from afar walking towards the giant corpse. A pang of worry went through you when you saw how angry she visibly was. This wasn't normal Ada behavior. She usually managed to keep her emotions in check during missions.

The closer you walked, you noticed a wiggling creature on the giant's back, a parasite if you had to guess. It moved like it wanted to get away from its dead host. Away from Ada.

Ada stomped her heeled boot onto the creature to lessen its writhing. She took out her pistol and aimed it at the creature. “Now stay down.”

One. Two. Three gunshots rang out into the stormy night air. The parasite went limp and Ada gave one final kick of annoyance to the felled creature, tucking her gun away before she faced you fully.

“You alright?” You asked her, doing your best to mask your concern so as to not anger her further. She was clearly in a sort of fragile state at the moment. And you knew the infection had part of, if not everything, to do with it. She took a deep breath before nodding a yes.

“I was getting a little annoyed, but now I'm good. Let's go.” She beckoned, leading you away from the giant. “Sweet dreams.” She snarked to the corpse as you left.

More than a little annoyed. That much was clear as day. Every plan and action took during this mission has led to one problem after another. And everything with Wesker and whatever the dangerous virus was coursing through her veins did not help.

You weren't sure how much time she had left before the virus took full control of her. Ada appeared to become more and more anxious about it too, as time went on and it seemed no progress was really made in retrieving the Amber.

Still, you kept quiet. You didn't want to further irritate her. And if she didn't want to talk, then you weren't going to force her.

Your thoughts were put on hold when you saw Luis safely strolling down the path just below the rock formation you and Ada were waiting on. He noticed you both and with a look of relief he sped walked toward you.

“Luis! Glad to see you made it out of that mess safe.” You called out with a grin. He smiled back at your genuine enthusiasm.

“Oh, that? That was nothing, Sénorita.” He gestured behind himself with a careless wave, as if he didn't just get away from a swarm of probably one hundred infected people looking for blood. As if he's dealt with bigger, worse things at some point and this was just a walk in the park. He smirked at your look of disbelief. “Got a smoke?”

“I do. The kind you like.” Ada remarked, though she made no move to hand over the pack of cigarettes he earlier abandoned with radio numbers written down to get into contact again.

“Now, where is the Amber?” Ada questioned, done with the pleasantries and wanting to finish the business at hand.

“Unfortunately, it's not on me at the moment.” He sighed as he walked forward and began to attempt a climb up the rocks to get to you both, grunting with the effort. “And you really should be telling me what-” He paused, huffing from the exertion, before continuing.

“What a good job I did. Busted my ass and managed to hide it right before I got caught. Which,” He stumbled during the climb, but saved himself from slipping. “Is why I'm still alive!”

His triumphant tone made the corners of your mouth tug upward in amusement, but it quickly turned into a frown once you glanced to your left and saw how his words affected the already on edge Ada. Hopefully she won't do anything extreme.

He had nearly made the climb, but still reached his hand out for additional assistance from one of you. You went to help, but Ada stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm before crouching down with a sigh to be more leveled with Luis.

“The deal was we get you out of here when you deliver the Amber. No Amber, no 'protection’, Luis.” She reminded him. There was no room for nonsense in her entire demeanor. No more time to waste.

He gave a forced and slightly annoyed laugh. Likely in irritation from the long day he's had and Ada showing no appreciation for the fact that he was trying. Though in her mind, he wasn't trying hard enough. He was just wasting both of your precious time.

“Such a stickler for details, huh Ada?” Her deadpan expression didn't waver. He glanced at you with a look you couldn't quite decipher, and you shrugged unhelpfully. He let out another sigh before grumbling. “Alright. I'll go get it now, how about that?”

He reached out a hand for help once more, waiting a long moment. You nudged her and Ada finally gave in and helped him up the small, yet hard to climb, cliff.

Once he was up, he patted himself clear of dirt and looked back to the house the villagers bombarded with a tired sigh. “And I do have something else I need to get too.”

Your girlfriend and you shared a look. You gave a huff and shook your head muttering, “This ought to be good.”

—

The castle. Luis had led you both back to the castle. The place where your mission had officially started and where everything had gone to shit pretty much instantaneously. You'd hoped once you left it the first time that you wouldn't have to be back.

And yet, here you are.

Luis had climbed halfway up the side of the castle he had led you all to enter from before Ada had decided to just grapple you both up the tower, not even bothering to attempt the climb or help the struggling Luis up the rest of the way. He huffed and finished the challenging climb by himself, muttering to himself all the while.

You and Ada remained silent as you waited for him. Ada, not only because she was pissed, but also because she was stuck in her own head, running through the statistics of how many more distractions and side quests she had in her before the virus took over and she lost total control of herself. You just let her be, not having much to say that would soothe her concerns due to you feeling the exact same way.

You wish you could continue to tell her it would be alright, but the longer this mission takes, the more you see her condition beginning to take its toll. Not just in her behavior. Now it is visible in her physical appearance as well.

Her eyes had changed. The infection took form in black, vein-like, lines within her eyes. You had noticed prior to finding Luis, when Ada had been manipulated by the bug creature, that similar veins had covered her face while she clutched her head in pain. A clear sign of the virus and its power over her. So to see it remain permanently in her eyes with the monster not in sight…

It was clear that time was running out.

“You probably didn't plan on coming back here, eh?” Luis questioned as he finally crawled through the hole in the wall you've entered from.

“I had hoped not.” You admitted. You noticed Ada's calculated silence became more of a simmering, angry, silence. She was not happy with the man. Not one bit.

“Well, plans do change, no?” Luis said, trying to catch his breath from the climb.

Ada's silence gave him pause. Noting her mood, he turned to you hesitantly before voicing a question you all already knew the answer to. “Are you angry?”

Her silence spoke volumes, causing you both to grimace. “You're angry.” He concluded. He paused again, debating his next words. You shook your head, knowing by his hesitance that what he has to say won't be good.

He ignored your silent advice, quickly spilling out his next sentence. “There is this one thing I must do before I can recover the Amber.”

You winced, glancing at Ada who went from a silent simmer to boiling over in about three seconds flat. This won't be good.

Ada was giving Luis a look that could kill, and in return he held his hands up in a placant gesture.

“Before?” She questioned, voice deceptively calm. And before you could stop her, she had her pistol drawn and pointed right at the man's head.

“Ada!” Your startled call went ignored by her.

Heels clicked angrily against the hard floor as she took threatening steps toward Luis, who had raised his hands even higher in an attempt to convince her not to shoot. “This is not a negotiation, Luis. So choose your next words carefully.”

“Oh, woah…” Luis fumbled, taking a shaky breath before taking a slow step to the side. Then another. And another. Ada's gun remained pointed at his head as she turned with him, finger on the trigger and ready to shoot if he gave her an answer she didn't like.

“Ada-”

“Stay out of this, Y/n.” Ada told you. Her cold tone gave you pause. While you know it wasn't you she was angry at, you still didn't want to test her when she's like this.

Especially not with Luis's life on the line.

“It's fine, Sénorita.” Luis said, before giving his full attention to Ada. You listened and backed off. “Listen, there is someone who needs my help… You know me – always the good Samaritan!”

“Let me guess. Leon?” Ada smirked slightly as Luis looked surprised that she knew about Leon. Though her grip on the gun didn't falter.

“Yes! Exactly! Leon and that young woman…” Luis began to slowly back away. Young women? The president's daughter? “They are both infected. They need this medicine. It slows the infection. And I know it works. I used it on myself. So I-”

“And why does this matter to me?” Ada interrupted, quickly closing the distance Luis had managed to make between the two of them. You could think of a few reasons why it matters.

Luis paused, and as if hearing your own thoughts, stated matter of factly, “Because you too are infected.”

Ada and you shared a look. You were surprised he noticed, given how most of this mission has been spent away from Luis with you and Ada chasing after him.

Luis shook his head, exasperated. “It's what I researched for all these years. And I see the symptoms already showing in your eyes, Ada.”

For the first time since Ada drew the gun, Luis turned his back on her and walked further away with a little more confidence. Even when he was at risk of being shot in the back.

“You must already feel the effects, eh?” He slowly crouched over a trap door, still somewhat mindful of the woman holding the gun on him. “The medicine will stop them for a time. Just, trust me. You have a lot to gain, and nothing to lose!”

Ada seemed to agree with that statement. “Okay. But this is your last chance. We do this first, and then the Amber.” She placed her gun back into the holster with a final stern look, before turning to search around the room for anything useful to be brought with her.

“I'll let Leon know!” Luis exclaimed, happy he convinced her to help.

You were relieved. And so, so glad Ada agreed. This might be her only chance. Granted, it's not a cure. But it would give you both more time to find the Amber and find an actual cure.

You stood awkwardly in your current place as Luis reached for his radio and made a call. “Hola. Luis here. You guys still around?” He questioned.

A very familiar voice snarked through the speaker of the radio. “Well I wanted to go home, but Ashley just had to see this castle first.”

Ashley. The president's daughter.

Luis grinned. “Perfect, because I have a present I want to give you. Medicine that will help to suppress the progress of your… problem.”

“Where do we go?” Leon asked.

“Let's see… Come to the courtyard inside the castle. We can meet up there.” Luis decided. “¡Ciao!”

With that, he hung up the call and turned to speak to the two women patiently and impatiently waiting for him.

He stood up and set to opening the trap door leading out of the room. “Sorry to keep you both waiting. Shall we?”

You glanced back at Ada and saw she was ready to go. You nodded as Luis opened the hatch on the floor. “We shall.”

He grinned as he led you both out of the room and down a stairwell. “There's a hidden laboratory downstairs. My stuff should be there.” He explained, jumping down the remaining gap in the stairs to the floor. Likely destroyed due to lack of maintenance in this area of the castle. You jumped down right after him with Ada right behind you.

“Along with the suppressant?” Ada questioned.

“Right,” Luis nodded. “Though first we have to get past this locked gate.” He said, gesturing to the barred area that was preventing you all from going further.

“Leave it to me.” Ada abruptly ran off before you could offer assistance. You shrugged it off, not much you could do given this requires the grappling hook. Which you have yet to get the hang of using and probably never will.

As you and Luis waited, he decided to start up a conversation with you. “So…”

You raised a brow at his hesitance. As if he is trying to figure out if what he is about to say is crossing a boundary. “So?”

He paused, muttering a quick “fuck it”, then proceeded to ask his intended question.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, noting the growing tension between the two of you that you had since excused and ignored.

Not expecting that question, you stuttered and spat out an, “Excuse me?” Wincing slightly at how it came out a little harsh. Not intending to hurt the man in front of you, just taken off guard by the personal question.

Luis scoffed. “Oh please! You two went from the ultimate dream team to practically walking on eggshells around each other.”

“We still work well together.” You answered, slightly confused by where he was going with this.

“Yes you do, Sénorita.” Luis amended before continuing, “Though I can't help but notice the growing tension between you. What happened?”

You were curious, “Why do you want to know?”

“Well…” Luis shrugged nonchalantly, leaning against the wall behind him with a grin. “I like to think that, despite our short time knowing each other, we are friends. You did save my life after all. And I think I'm allowed to be a little concerned about my friend.”

Your growing defensive demeanor softened slightly, sensing no lie coming from the man in front of you.

“Does that mean Ada is your friend too?” You wondered. He exaggeratedly pondered for a moment.

“Eh, I'm still not so sure about that one. A little testy, no?” He jested, grin widening when the joke resulted in a laugh from you. “But in all seriousness, is everything alright between you two. What with the, uh, virus.”

Your smile dropped with a sigh. “I'm just worried about her. She hasn't been fully herself. Not the usual Ada I've come to know and love. I just don't know what to do. I- I don't want to make it worse.” You quietly admitted.

“Has she tried to hurt you?” He asked with concern.

“No. But I can see that she grows increasingly more worried that it will happen at some point. She's been slowly distancing herself from me. Not in the physical sense, but mentally. Like she's preparing for the worst case scenario.”

Luis hummed, “I see. Well don't worry too much, Sénorita. We will get her the help she needs before the worst can happen. Okay?”

He grinned with a comforting pat to your shoulder. You weakly returned it. Grateful for his considerate words, but also not entirely convinced it would be so easy.

After all, nothing on this entire mission has been easy yet.

#ada wong #ada wong x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy #luis sera resident evil #luis serra #albert wesker #los iluminados #ashley graham #i wish i could walk in heels

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kat-thepoet · 9 months ago

Text

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett X Fem!Reader

Part 14: First impressions

A/N: Enjoy!

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

4.2k words

I watched as the man—Logan, Hank had called him—stormed off down the hallway, his shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides. There was something almost animalistic about the way he moved, like a predator barely keeping itself in check. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach.

Who the hell was he?

For a moment, I just stood there, frozen, replaying the brief encounter in my mind. Logan's eyes had been so intense, filled with something I couldn't quite put my finger on—desperation? Anger? Whatever it was, it left me on edge. He looked at me like I was supposed to know him, like I was supposed to say something, do something, but I had no idea what.

I turned to Hank, who was still beside me, his expression a mix of concern and something else—sympathy, maybe. I didn't like that look; it made me feel like I was some sort of fragile thing that needed handling with care.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice and failing.

Hank hesitated, his gaze flickering down the hallway where Logan had disappeared. "It's nothing ," he said finally. "It's... complicated."

"Complicated?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes. "That's one way to put it. He just barges in here, glaring at me like I've done something wrong, and then storms off without a word? Who does that?"

Hank gave me a small, placating smile. "Logan's not usually like that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "He's been through a lot lately."

I crossed my arms, frustration bubbling to the surface. "And I haven't? Everyone here keeps talking to me like I should know what's going on, but no one's actually telling me anything. I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark, and now this Logan guy shows up, acting like I owe him something. What's his deal?"

Hank's smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. "I know this is all really confusing, Violet. And I wish I could explain everything, but... some things are better left alone until you're ready."

"Ready for what?" I demanded, my patience wearing thin. "Everyone's treating me like I'm going to break if I get too much information, but I'm not some delicate flower. I can handle it. I just want to know the truth."

Hank sighed, looking like he wanted to say more but was holding back. "Give it time," he said gently. "Logan... he's just as lost as you are right now."

I frowned, not liking the sound of that. How could this man, this stranger, be just as lost as I am? It didn't make any sense. But before I could press further, Hank changed the subject, guiding me away from the hallway and back toward the heart of the mansion.

As we walked, I couldn't shake the image of Logan's face—those intense eyes, the way his jaw clenched like he was holding back something dangerous. It was like he was a bomb waiting to go off, and I was just the spark needed to set him off. But why?

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Hank and I continued with our tour and began walking through the mansion. As we passed by what looked like a huge living room, I spotted Laura sitting on one of the couches, her expression distant.

"Laura?" I said, confused as to why she was here. "What are you doing here?"

She looked up at me, then quickly glanced at Hank, like she was waiting for his permission to speak. The hesitation in her eyes made something inside me twist uncomfortably.

"I, um, uh..." Laura stammered, clearly unsure of what to say or how to say it. I could see the struggle on her face, and it only made me more frustrated.

Hank, sensing her discomfort, gave her a reassuring nod. "It's okay, Laura. You can talk to her, just... don't overwhelm her, alright?"

That did it. My anger sparked again, burning through the thin veneer of calm I'd managed to put up. Overwhelm me? Why did everyone keep treating me like I was some fragile thing that might shatter at the slightest touch?

I could feel the emotions I'd been holding back start to bubble up, pushing against the walls I'd built around them. The frustration, the confusion, the deep, gnawing sense of loss—it all came crashing down on me like a wave I couldn't escape.

"I don't need to be handled with kid gloves!" I snapped, my voice louder than I intended. "I'm not some delicate flower! I'm—" I faltered, struggling to find the right words. "I'm just... lost. And no one will tell me anything! I can't remember, and it's killing me inside. Every time I try to reach for something, it slips away, like trying to grab smoke. And all of you—" I gestured wildly around me, "—are walking on eggshells, acting like I'm going to break at any second!"

I could feel my eyes start to sting, the frustration and helplessness threatening to spill over. Without another word, I turned and stormed off, not caring where I was going as long as it was away from everyone. The walls of the mansion felt too close, too suffocating, and I needed air—needed space.

I didn't stop until I was outside, my feet carrying me into the cover of some trees behind the mansion. The cool breeze hit my face, but it did little to calm the storm raging inside me. I leaned against a tree, trying to catch my breath, but the weight of everything—the memories I didn't have, the life I could barely remember—pressed down on me, making it hard to think, hard to breathe.

It was like I was drowning in a sea of confusion, with no shore in sight. And the worst part? I didn't even know where to start swimming.

As I sat down behind the tree, the cool ground beneath me, my head began to spin with a sudden, sharp pain. It was as if a vise had clamped down on my skull, tightening with every breath I took. The voices came back, flooding my mind with a cacophony of sounds—laughter, screams, crying. The noise was unbearable, each sound piercing through my thoughts like shards of glass. I couldn't tell if they were my own memories or someone else's, and that uncertainty only made it worse.

I pressed my hands against my temples, trying desperately to block out the noise, but it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave. The sounds kept coming, wave after relentless wave, threatening to tear my mind apart. I felt like my head was going to explode, the pressure building to a breaking point.

As I curled in on myself, trying to comfort my head, trying to distract myself from the pain, I heard footsteps behind me. They were soft, tentative, but I couldn't bear to deal with anyone right now, not when it felt like my mind was unraveling.

Without looking back, I managed to choke out, "Go away," my voice tight with the effort of holding back the pain. I didn't care who it was; I just needed to be alone, to find some way to make the noise stop before it drove me completely mad.

But the footsteps didn't retreat. Instead, they hesitated, lingering just out of sight. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the relentless noise in my head, hoping that whoever it was would just leave me in peace.

I could still feel their presence, the weight of their gaze pressing down on me, refusing to leave. The pain in my head was unbearable, but the stubbornness of whoever it was only added to my frustration. With a shaky breath, I forced myself to turn around, ready to snap at them to go away. But when I looked up, the words died in my throat. It was Logan.

He stood there, a few feet away, his expression a mix of concern and something deeper, something I couldn't quite read. His eyes, those intense, haunted eyes, softened slightly when they met mine, but it did little to ease the turmoil inside me.

"You," I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. I wanted to tell him to leave, to go away like I'd demanded, but the pain was too overwhelming, and all I could do was stare at him, struggling to keep it together.

Logan didn't move closer, but he didn't leave either. He just stood there, watching me with a quiet intensity that made it hard to look away. It was as if he knew, as if he could see the battle raging inside my head, and despite everything, he wasn't going to leave me alone to face it.

"Violet," he said softly, his voice a low rumble that somehow cut through the noise in my head.

His words should have irritated me, should have made me want to lash out at him for not listening. But instead, there was a strange comfort in his presence, something solid to hold on to in the chaos. I didn't know why, but part of me felt like he was the only thing keeping me grounded, the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.

I didn't have the strength to argue, so I just turned back around, curling into myself as I tried to weather the storm in my mind. The voices, the pain, everything was still there, but somehow, knowing Logan was behind me, standing guard, made it a little more bearable. And for now, that was enough.

Logan hesitated for a moment, as if unsure whether to come closer. But then he took a slow, deliberate step forward, and then another, until he was right next to me. Without saying a word, he lowered himself to the ground beside me, the weight of his presence both comforting and overwhelming. We sat there in silence, and gradually, the voices in my head began to fade, retreating into the background until they were finally gone.

The relief was so sudden and profound that it left me feeling raw and exposed. Before I could stop myself, I felt the tears welling up, the frustration, confusion, and fear all boiling over. I tried to hold them back, to keep it all contained, but it was useless. The dam broke, and I started to cry, the sobs coming out in ragged gasps.

Logan moved closer, his arm slipping around my shoulders in a tentative, almost hesitant gesture. He pulled me into a side hug, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he wasn't sure how much comfort I'd accept. Part of me wanted to slip away, to push him back and put up the walls I'd been trying so hard to maintain. But another part of me—stronger, more insistent—wanted to stay close to him, to lean into the warmth and solidness of his embrace. And that confused me.

I didn't understand why, but being next to him felt... right. Like somehow, despite the mess in my head and the tangled web of emotions, this was where I needed to be. So I let myself stay, resting my head against his shoulder as I cried out all the pain and frustration I'd been holding inside.

Logan didn't say anything; he didn't need to. He just held me, his presence steady and unwavering, as if he was silently telling me that it was okay to let go, that I didn't have to carry this burden alone. And for the first time since waking up in this strange place, I felt like maybe I didn't have to.

So I stayed there, letting myself be vulnerable in a way I hadn't allowed in a long time, taking comfort in the quiet strength of the man beside me. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't want to be anywhere else.

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After some time, my tears began to subside, the sobs gradually quieting into shaky breaths. I moved slightly away from Logan, releasing myself from his touch. The warmth of his arm left me feeling strangely cold, but I needed distance to gather my thoughts. Without looking at him, I asked the question that had been burning inside me since our first encounter.

"Who are you?" My voice was quiet, but there was a desperation behind it that I couldn't hide.

Logan looked at me, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. For a moment, he didn't speak, as if he was searching for the right words—or perhaps trying to decide whether he should say anything at all. But I couldn't let it go. I turned to face him, my eyes pleading for the answers I craved, the answers everyone seemed determined to keep from me.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of whatever he was holding back. "I'm Logan Howlett," he said, his voice low and rough.

I already knew that. I wanted more than just his name. I needed to understand why this man, this stranger, seemed so connected to me, why his presence stirred something deep within me that I couldn't explain.

"I already know that," I replied, my tone firmer now, pushing past the lingering vulnerability. "But who are you, really? Why do you... why does this feel..."

I trailed off, the words tangling in my throat. I couldn't quite put it into words, the way his presence affected me, the way it felt like there was something just beyond my reach, something vital that I couldn't remember. But Logan just looked at me, his expression conflicted, as if he wanted to tell me everything but was holding back.

"I'm... I'm someone who cares about you," he finally said, his voice almost a whisper. "More than you know. But right now, all you need to know is that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

It wasn't the answer I wanted, but there was something in his tone, in the way he looked at me, that made me believe him. And maybe, for now, that had to be enough. But as much as I wanted to trust him, the gnawing frustration of not knowing who he truly was, of not understanding the depth of his connection to me, still lingered. "Why can't you just tell me?" I asked, the pleading note returning to my voice. "Why does everyone keep treating me like I'm made of glass? I can handle the truth, Logan. I need to handle it."

He looked away for a moment, his jaw tightening as if he was wrestling with something inside himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and filled with regret. "Because," he said slowly, turning his gaze back to me, "I'm not allowed to tell you. I'm sorry."

His words hit me like a slap in the face, and I felt my frustration spike again. It wasn't enough, and his apology didn't make it better. I rolled my eyes, unable to hide my annoyance. "If you're not going to tell me, then just stay away," I snapped, the hurt and anger mixing in my voice. "I don't need a stranger to comfort me."

The word "stranger" hung in the air between us, heavy and painful. I saw something flicker in his eyes—hurt, maybe, or something deeper that I couldn't quite read. But I didn't care. I was too angry, too frustrated with being kept in the dark, and I couldn't stand the thought of someone hovering around me, pretending to care, when they wouldn't even be honest with me.

Logan didn't say anything, but the way he looked at me made my chest tighten. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, his expression conflicted. For a moment, I thought he might get up and leave, and part of me wanted him to. But another part of me, the part that was scared and lost, wasn't sure what it would feel like if he actually did.

"I'm not your enemy, Violet," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "And I'm not going to leave you alone in this. Even if you hate me for it."

I wanted to argue, to tell him I didn't need him, but the words caught in my throat. Instead, I turned away, wrapping my arms around myself as if to shield myself from the confusing mess of emotions inside me.

"Just... give me some space," I muttered, feeling exhausted and defeated.

Logan didn't say anything for a long moment, but I could feel his gaze on me, intense and unwavering. Finally, I heard him stand up, the sound of his footsteps retreating a few steps, but he didn't go far. He was still there, watching over me, even if it was from a distance.

And despite everything, despite the anger and frustration, a small part of me was relieved that he didn't go too far. And I hated it.

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After a few more moments of sitting there, I finally managed to calm down and gather my thoughts. With a deep breath, I pushed myself up from the ground and made my way back inside.

Logan was no longer in sight, which was good—at least, that's what I told myself. I didn't need him around, hovering like some silent guardian. I needed space to think, to figure things out on my own terms.

I headed to the kitchen, my throat dry and my mind still swirling with questions. A glass of water was all I needed, something to ground me, to bring me back to the present. But as I stepped into the kitchen, I stopped dead in my tracks.

There, standing by the counter, were two familiar faces—Wade and Vanessa. And beside them, as if the universe was playing some cruel joke, was Logan.

Wade was in the middle of some exaggerated story, his hands gesturing wildly as he spoke, while Vanessa looked on with an amused smile. Logan, however, was quieter, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his gaze distant—until he noticed me. His eyes flicked to mine, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something like relief cross his face, but it was gone before I could be sure.

"Violet!" Wade's voice broke through my thoughts, his usual enthusiasm completely undeterred by the tension that seemed to hang in the room. Before I could react, he was already across the room, wrapping me in a tight, almost bone-crushing hug. I weakly returned it, grateful for his familiar energy but too drained to match it.

"Wade," I mumbled into his shoulder, trying to muster a smile as I patted his back. His embrace was a bit overwhelming, but there was something comforting about it too—like being wrapped in a blanket of chaotic but well-meaning affection.

Wade finally released me, his grin wide and genuine. "You look like you could use about five more of those," he said with a wink, though his eyes held a hint of concern.

Vanessa, who had been standing nearby, got up and came over to hug me as well, her touch much gentler but no less warm. "How are you feeling, Violet?" she asked softly, her voice filled with a tenderness that made the knot in my chest tighten. It was as if she could sense the emotional storm I'd just been through, and her hug was like a lifeline, something to cling to in the chaos.

I hesitated, my eyes flicking back to Logan for a split second before I forced myself to focus on Vanessa. "I'm... fine," I said, though the word felt hollow, even to me. "Just needed some air."

Wade grinned, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. "Air, water, fire—whatever you need, we've got it here. Well, except for fire. They don't trust me with matches after the 'incident.' But don't worry, I've got a lighter somewhere."

Logan rolled his eyes at Wade's antics but didn't say anything. I could feel his presence, heavy in the room, and it made it hard to focus on anything else.

"I just came to get a glass of water," I mumbled, making my way to the sink, hoping to avoid any more awkwardness.

Vanessa gave me a small, understanding smile. "Of course. Take your time."

As I filled the glass, I could feel the weight of Logan's gaze on me, and it took everything in me not to look back at him. I didn't want to deal with whatever unspoken tension was brewing between us, not now, not after everything.

But as much as I tried to ignore it, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted in that moment behind the trees—something I wasn't ready to face but knew I couldn't avoid forever.

I couldn't stand what I was feeling, even though I didn't even know what I was feeling. It was all too much—too confusing, too overwhelming—so I left the kitchen quickly, hoping to escape before anyone could say anything more. As I turned to leave, I heard Vanessa call out behind me, but I didn't stop. I just needed to get away, to find some place where I could breathe, where I could be alone.

My feet carried me instinctively to the medical wing, the only place in this massive mansion that felt somewhat familiar, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. I wanted to lay down, to close my eyes and shut everything out, just for a little while.

But no matter how quickly I walked, Vanessa still managed to catch up to me. She was persistent, and as much as I wanted to be left alone, a part of me knew she wouldn't let that happen.

"What's wrong?" Vanessa asked, her voice gentle but filled with concern as she finally caught up to me.

"I just... I don't even know," was all I could manage to say, my voice shaky and uncertain. How could I explain what I didn't even understand myself?

Vanessa stayed by my side as we walked to the bed where I'd been confined for a week. It felt strange, standing there again, staring at the place where I'd been so vulnerable, so lost. But right now, it was the only place that felt remotely safe.

We stepped inside the room, and I closed the door behind us, shutting out the world and all the confusing emotions that came with it. I moved over to the bed and sat down, feeling the cool, sterile sheets beneath my fingers. Vanessa stayed close, her presence steady and comforting, even as my mind raced with thoughts I couldn't quite pin down.

I didn't know what to say, didn't know how to explain the storm of feelings swirling inside me. All I knew was that I felt like I was on the verge of breaking, and I didn't even know why.

Vanessa sat down beside me, her hand resting gently on my shoulder. "It's okay, Violet," she said softly. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. Just take your time."Her words were kind, but they only made the knot in my chest tighten. I wanted answers—I needed them—but every time I reached for one, it slipped through my fingers, leaving me more lost than before.

"I feel like I'm drowning," I whispered, the confession spilling out before I could stop it. "Like everything is just... too much."

Vanessa squeezed my shoulder, offering silent support. "You've been through a lot," she said gently. "It's okay to feel overwhelmed. No one expects you to figure it all out at once." I looked at Vanessa, the desperation clear in my voice. "Can you please just tell me what happened?" I begged, my eyes searching hers for any sign of the truth. "It's only been a day, and I feel like I'm driving myself crazy trying to put the pieces together with no guide."

Vanessa's expression softened, a mix of empathy and concern filling her eyes. She took a deep breath, clearly weighing her words before she spoke. "Violet, I wish I could tell you everything," she began slowly, her tone careful and gentle, "but there are things that... it's not my place to say. I know how frustrating that must be, but it's for your own well-being."

I felt a surge of frustration rise within me, the confusion and helplessness threatening to spill over again. "How can keeping me in the dark be good for me?" I asked, my voice trembling. "I just want to understand—why won't anyone help me do that?"

Vanessa reached out, taking my hand in hers. "I'm not trying to keep you in the dark, I promise," she said softly. "But there are things about your past, about what happened, that are complicated. It's not as simple as just telling you the facts. Your mind and body have been through a lot, and sometimes, forcing memories or information can do more harm than good."

I bit my lip, trying to hold back the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm me again. "I'm just so tired of feeling lost," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stand not knowing who I am or what's real."

Vanessa squeezed my hand gently, her gaze steady. "You're not alone in this, Violet. We're all here to help you, even if it doesn't feel like it right now. But you have to trust the process, as hard as that is. The pieces will come together, I promise you that. It just takes time."

I nodded, though the reassurance felt hollow. I wanted to trust her, to believe that things would eventually make sense, but the uncertainty was suffocating. Still, I held on to her words, hoping that maybe, just maybe, she was right. That the answers would come in time, and that somehow, I would find my way through the darkness.

Next chapter: Part 15: A change of scenery

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #x men #marvel #wade wilson #hugh jackman #fanfic #wolverine #deadpool

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silence-burns · 2 years ago

Text

A Snack of Mine

Fandom: Spider-Man universe

smut 18+

The smashing noises coming from what Miguel called “the control room” sounded expensive. You may not have been an expert in all things technical, but you were pretty sure the room was in the process of a violent remodeling.

“Right,” you said. “And you expect me to do what exactly?”

“How am I supposed to know? It's not me who's usually had to restrain him in this kind of state. It's not my fault no one wants to get close to him. They kinda have a point, though.” Lyla flew around your head, ethereal as ever.

A crash louder than the previous ones came from behind The Door To Miguel's Lair.

“You do realize he's just ripped a monitor off the wall?”

“You do realize I have no physical presence to do anything about it?”

Point taken. It didn't make you feel any better and Lyla’s constant spinning didn't exactly help you get your bearings.

You waved your hand through her before the colorful but pixelated display of her panic blinded you completely. If it was an option, you would've gladly allowed anyone else to take your place. Sadly, none of the currently available Peters had a chance of getting to Miguel through his fury.

And hunger.

You sighed before moving towards The Door of Doom.

"Miguel, I come in peace!"

The kind of snarling that came from the other side was not something a human throat should've been able to handle.

"Be a good, nonlethal boy for 10 minutes and you'll get a snack. Maybe even McDonald's!"

The silence that followed was heavy enough to imply precisely where you could shove all the burgers in the worlds, but it was better than blinding rage; you were already making progress! You shoved the door open, quickly closing it behind your back. You clicked the lock into place.

It wasn't sturdy enough to keep any of the Spidermen out, but it served as a symbol. You walked into his lair, and now you had to deal with the consequences.

Miguel was meticulous in his fury. The room used to serve him as both a personal space and one of his less official offices, where he spent time thinking and planning without anyone bothering him. He was the head of the squad meant for suppressing the threats to the entire multiverse, so he had to deal with a never ending stream of things to take care of. A little bit of private space was a healthy solution.

Unfortunately, due to the circumstances called Miles Morales Versus Bad Decision Making, the otherwise pleasant, calming space was now in pieces. Literally—half the furniture lay in ruin spread across the floor like rubble after an explosion.

"I think you missed a few." You kicked away a rather big part of what used to be a desk. "You gotta be more thorough, man."

As much as you wished to feel even half as confident as you sounded, it was a rather difficult task when the only part of Miguel you could see were his eyes, glowing bright red and piercing you through, unblinking. The only source of light was dim and came from behind the broken furniture. The outline of Miguel's body was hardly discernible from the darkness of the room, but you swore he was towering over you more than usual.

And completely still.

"I really hope you aren't too sentimental, because there's no way anything here is savable. You gotta invest in a proper punching bag, or maybe two just in case—..."

"You think this is a joke?"

His voice was low and on the verge of growling. The situation with Miles definitely got under his skin.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to face my problems with a healthy dose of humor rather than destruction of my belongings. You've got claw marks on your walls, Miguel, come on. Don't you think it’s a bit too dramatic?"

Before you could blink, he was on you. Your back hit the wall just inches from the mentioned claw marks—deep, sharp, and clearly torn through with a lot of force. Looking up into Miguel's glowing eyes and the barely hidden fangs, you knew how capable he was of using said force.

Miguel leaned closer to you, his hand holding you still by the shoulder. Pressed between him and the wall, you could feel your pulse rising, and it was only partially thanks to the heat emanating from Miguel's body.

"The structure of the whole multiverse could be destroyed because of one person."

His voice was so low you could barely understand the words growled from his clenched jaw. Miguel's eyes burned to the point where you could no longer turn your head away. It was hypnotizing and a part of you didn't want to fight it.

"He's a child, Miguel. He's fifteen and his whole world just came crashing down on him."

"It doesn't give him the right to destroy everyone else's."

"No, but he's scared. Scared children need supportive adults, not claws in their faces."

Miguel's eyes dipped down over your lips for a split second, but something shifted through his posture. Still tense, his voice got quieter and lost the aggression. You were so close together that he was almost whispering in your ear, and yet you couldn't hear anything around but him.

"And what would you prefer me to do?" he purred.

"Everyone is already looking for Miles, so let his friends talk to him first once he's found. He has nowhere in the multiverse to hide forever."

Miguel's hand moved from your shoulder to the side of your neck. The claws retracted and now his touch was almost gentle. You missed it, just as you missed the kind of heat that was rising up behind the flaming red of his eyes, different from what most people ever got to see. Something reserved for you.

You turned your face to the side, letting his fingers caress your cheek. Miguel froze, entranced by the way his thumb rested over your lip and how your smile seemed to widen when you noticed too.

"I prefer you like this," you said, making your voice come out as barely a whisper. In his state, Miguel would've heard you from another room.

You didn't notice when it happened, but he was closer now, imprisoning you between himself and the wall. You both inhaled at the same time, chests pressing together a moment. His whole body was tense and wrapped tight around you. His thighs crushed yours and you wouldn't be able to move away even if you wanted to.

"I know what you're doing and… this really isn't a good time."

"You say it with such a scary look on your face, and yet you do nothing to stop me."

Miguel's nostrils flared when you put your teeth over your bottom lip.

And pushed.

Miguel's hand wrapped around your jaw, holding your face up towards him. His fingers dug into your skin, the gentle caress long gone. There was only a firm hold and a predator that smelled blood.

His pupils narrowed in a split second and the breath he took was shaky, as if he wanted to smell every bit of blood rising from the tiny cut.

"You've been on that artificial shit for a long time now," you cooed. "But we both know it can never be quite the same as the real thing."

You could see him trying to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth. You stood on the tips of toes and brushed his lips with yours.

It was as if an electric shock struck his body. Miguel growled as he forced your mouth open, and then again when his warm tongue licked the blood smeared over you. He forced you back down with one push of his hips and you could feel him growing harder despite his spider suit.

He sucked on your lip, hungry for more, just as his other hand found its way onto your hip and held it firmly against his own.

Miguel's open-mouthed kisses were growing sloppier as he followed your jawline and down the side of your neck. You couldn't help but push your fingers into his curls, marveling over how soft they felt and how perfect they were for grabbing his head and moving it just to the spot you wanted him at.

Despite the urgency of his need and all of his senses blurry, Miguel let you guide him, breathing in your scent. There were no words to explain how much he missed it every time you had to go back to your own universe and leave him thinking, wanting and alone.

Miguel loved the way your nails sank into his hair and tugged harder every time he scratched your skin with his fangs. He couldn't help himself when he heard the softest of moans leave your throat and felt the way you kept grinding yourself over his cock. Miguel bit your shoulder hard when your hand wandered to his still clothed shaft and lightly scratched over the thin, bulging fabric.

"You're really testing my patience," he breathed into your skin.

"I hope you earn a good grade."

Miguel's hand moved from your hip to the bracelet controlling the features of his suit, but you slapped it away before he could take it off. You pressed harder over his erection, stretching the suit more.

"Who said I'm gonna let you rush so much?"

"I really don't think we have the—..."

A loud knock on the closed door made you both jump.

"They found traces of Miles' signature!"

Miguel pushed his head into the crook of your swollen, tender neck, cursing with passion in Spanish. You may not have known the language well, but some things were truly universal.

You kissed his temple and brushed his wide shoulders. "You've got this."

Miguel took a slow, deep breath of your scent, noting all the various changes in it. But he did not budge.

"Prepare the team," he finally shouted back. "I'll be there in five minutes."

He caught your eyes widening and smiled ominously. The flaming red was shining through his own eyes again.

"I have something to take care of first."

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #Spiderman across the spider verse miguel #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv

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linkemon · 4 months ago

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Beauty and the Beast (Bakugō Katsuki x Reader) 6

ʙᴀᴋᴜɢᴏ ᴋᴀᴛꜱᴜᴋɪ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ. ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜɪꜱ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛꜱ, ʜᴇ ꜱʟᴏᴡʟʏ ʟᴏꜱᴇꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇ. ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ, [ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ], ꜰᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ'ꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛɪᴍɪᴅᴀᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴏᴠᴇʀʜᴀᴜʟ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ. ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴜᴄᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ, ʙᴏʀɴꜱ ᴀ ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱʜɪᴘ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇꜱ, ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡꜱ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

The whole series can be found here. Part 1 is here. Part 7.

Cooking together

— What is going on here? — Katsuki thundered unpleasantly.

— We're cleaning — the new servant stated, brushing her hair back from her forehead.

— You stupid woman! You've rearranged everything! — he roared.

The companions wanted to say something but seeing the king in his current state, they fell silent. Better not to stick their necks out. That was precisely why they were helping with the cleaning. They wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible and take the girl away before their master came down to them.

— No problem, your highness. Your servants know where everything is. They'll surely manage to prepare a meal...— She felt a vein pulse on her forehead.

— I am the one who needs to know where everything is! Do you really think they cook for me? — The grimace on Bakugō's beastly face became unmistakable.

It only dawned on her after a moment that the servants indeed wouldn't be able to handle cooking anything. They might manage to put together a sandwich but that was about it. Tasks that were too complicated were beyond their current forms.

— I was just doing my job — [Reader] tried to defend herself. — How was I supposed to know?

— I should have expected this from such a fine lady...— Katsuki sneered.

— I'm not a fine lady! — she exploded with anger.

She was mad, hungry and exhausted. She'd just done a massive amount of work. His remarks were starting to get on her nerves.

— Of course not. — The mockery in the king's voice dripped with sarcasm. — Let me recall how you were sipping tea yesterday. — He pretended to extend the smallest finger from his massive paw, mimicking a dainty sip.

— If it were a matter of life and death, you'd drink like I did too! — she shouted.

For a moment, she thought she saw something resembling understanding in his eyes. Almost as if she had struck a nerve but she wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just her imagination.

— I bet you don't even know what to put in a pot — he continued.

She didn’t understand why he kept going. Did he find it entertaining? Or perhaps he was simply so starved for company that he was willing to settle for any interaction?

— I bet I can cook better than you! — She couldn’t believe what she had just said.

But surely beating him couldn’t be that hard, right? After all, how complicated could his cooking skills be? People of his status didn’t busy themselves in kitchens.

— You’ve got to be joking! — he retorted.

They dropped the titles and formalities.

— Care to bet? If I win, I get to choose a chamber I don’t have to clean — she proposed.

— Deal! If I win, you’re never setting foot in the kitchen again — declared the king.

The speed with which he prepared his dish was almost miraculous. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The desire to compete was written all over him. The cursed servants eagerly handed him the ingredients he needed. Denki was the only one to protest, insisting he would assist the rival instead. She had no idea why he wasn’t as terrified of his master as the others were. He helped her as best he could. She thanked him and he glowed even brighter in response. She decided to make an improvised soup. It was the dish she knew best.

The beggars she once ate with didn’t always get even that. She remembered standing in long lines for watery slop. Back then, it had seemed like the best food in the world. Anything was better than stale bread. Now, she wouldn’t even want to look at it.

She dragged out a large pot and began tossing in ingredients from memory. It wasn’t a complicated recipe. As long as she stirred it and skimmed the scum, it should turn out fine. She glanced sideways.

The beast handled knives skillfully despite his long, sharp claws. He enthusiastically chopped meat into pieces before adding it to a pot along with a mix of spices. He measured out the leaves and dried herbs with precision, occasionally leaning in to sniff his concoction, using his keen sense of smell. He also pulled out a frying pan. The yellow, runny batter looked familiar. To her surprise, it didn’t turn into a pancake. The cakes seemed to puff up. On the plate, they emerged as strange, fluffy, light clouds.

Bakugō spread his ingredients across nearly the entire length of the counter. She wasn’t surprised by the mess in the room. If this was how things always looked, it was a miracle he hadn’t drowned in the clutter.

He was causing her trouble. His massive body took up a lot of space. Whenever she needed to grab something extra, it turned into a shoving match. She always lost. Compared to him, she was tiny. This made the curses she muttered under her breath more frequent. He wasn’t one to let her have the last word either. The objects in the kitchen watched them with growing unease.

She tore her eyes away from her rival to grab a ladle. Scooping up some liquid, she cautiously blew on it and brought it to her lips. It tasted amazing. Her stomach growled at the thought of eating it. All that was left was to add salt. She reached for the bag. It was hard to get to it with Katsuki standing turned away, forcing her to squeeze past him.

— Maybe your highness could move over — she remarked sarcastically.

She didn’t expect the king to turn so quickly. Her foot landed on a still-wet patch of floor and she slid, feeling herself fall backward. She braced for the pain, extending her hands to try to soften the impact. Everything blurred around her. Just like yesterday — the thought crossed her mind. Indeed, it ended just as it had the day before. The beast caught her around the waist before she hit the floor. She tried to calm her pounding heart. She didn’t know whether it was racing because she had nearly fallen or from fear of being so close to this strange creature.

She expected the smell of an animal. Instead, she caught the scent of roses. Strong and sweet. For a moment, it was as if she saw a blue flower from the greenhouse. She shook her head.

— Thank you — she said, flustered.

He might have been gruff but he had saved her.

— Don’t get any ideas. You almost knocked over the saffron. — He pointed to the bottle in his left paw. — It’s worth more than you are — he added, smirking mockingly.

— You…— she began, her anger bubbling inside.

— Time for a taste test! — Kirishima shouted.

She was inwardly grateful he had interrupted. She might have said something she’d deeply regret.

Both dishes were placed on the counter.

— Who’s going to decide the winner? Do you guys even eat? — she realized, looking at their helpers.

The small crowd shook their heads.

— Then we’ll have to settle this ourselves — she muttered under her breath.

— How do I know you won’t cheat? — her rival asked suspiciously.

— There’s such a thing as honesty and honour… Clearly, you’re not familiar with them. — She smiled venomously.

— The lady won’t take this to the dining hall? — She knew he said it just to irritate her.

— That far? No way! — She grabbed a not-so-clean fork.

Wiping it on her apron, she began eating. She hadn’t expected such a rich and deep flavour. The soft pastry melted in her mouth. The meaty sauce poured over it was hearty. Perfect for winter’s chill. Everything was perfectly seasoned. Spicy but just light enough to make her want another bite.

Meanwhile, Bakugō lifted her bowl. He gave up on the spoon and brought the edge to his lips, only to spit everything out a second later. The objects turned their backs, desperately trying to suppress laughter. A faint giggle escaped from the corner, where they attempted to regain composure.

— Hey! Show some respect! — [Reader] had been prepared for insults but not for him to outright scorn her dish.

— Try it yourself. — The king shoved the bowl into her hands.

She did exactly as he had done earlier. A moment later, she spit it all out. The taste was so salty it was inedible.

— It must have been that stupid bag of salt — she realized, rubbing her temple. — Wait… This is your fault!

— How is it my fault that you’re a terrible cook? — He looked at her, clearly amused.

— Because I almost fell because of you. If you hadn’t taken up the entire kitchen, this wouldn’t have happened! — She pointed an accusing finger at him.

She was worn out after the entire afternoon. She wanted nothing more than to finish eating and hide away upstairs, far from the others. Especially the irritating king.

— You can’t admit defeat — he remarked.

— That’s not true!

— It is!

They probably could have gone back and forth forever. Fortunately, the ever-reliable Captain of the Guard stepped in.

— Maybe we’ll call it a draw? — he suggested.

— I don’t do draws — Katsuki growled.

— Neither do I! — [Reader] added.

— So, a rematch, fine lady? — the beast stated.

— Glad we’re on the same page — [Reader] replied.

The king nodded and walked away. In his mind, he was already forming a plan for what to prepare tomorrow. His dish would knock her off her feet. He’d make sure of it...

#bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x you #denki kaminari #ochaco uraraka #kirishima eijirou #la brava #gentle criminal #fanfiction #beauty and the beast

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