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levandright · 6 months ago

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WHAT THE HEART WANTS ★ K.SN & Y.JW | TEASER

synopsis. you love your best friend, kim sunoo. but scared of confessing and possibly losing your precious friendship, you'd rather let these feelings left unsaid and buried in your heart. so, what do you do if a popular underclassman confesses to you on valentine's day?

pairings : bsf! sunoo x f!reader, jungwon x f!reader ♦ content / warning(s) : unrequited love, yn is scared to confess, yn has a hard time choosing, fluff, jungwon is a sweetheart ♦ est word count : 4-6k ・ archive ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : hopefully i can post the first part in a week or two, this is based a lot from my experiences but happier(bcs of the poll) i estimate there will be 3 parts in total for this because of reasons i cannot spoil for now ^-^

you held a lot of secrets, and out of all the secrets you hold close, the feelings you have for sunoo are by far the heaviest. they live in the quiet spaces between you: in every smile he gives you, in every joke you share, in the warmth of every comforting hug, and in the countless secrets you’ve entrusted to each other. he knows so much about you, maybe even more than anyone else. but there’s one truth you’ve never told him, one that sits like a stone in your heart, heavier than all the others.

truth is, sunoo is more than just a friend. somewhere along the way, he became your safe place, your first call in moments of joy and the one person you seek in times of pain. he’s become the one person you feel you can tell anything to. anything, that is except how much he truly means to you. and no matter how many times you imagine confessing, a familiar fear always rises up, wrapping around you like creeping vines: what if he doesn’t feel the same? what if telling him shatters this beautiful, fragile bond you share?

so you make a decision. you decide not to tell him. instead, you resolve to stay silent, to hide your feelings and let them fade on their own, like colors slowly washing out in the sun. you tell yourself that it’s better this way, better to preserve the friendship you cherish than risk losing him altogether.

it’s harder than you imagined. every day with him feels like a test of your willpower, a delicate dance of pushing down what your heart keeps trying to whisper. you start training yourself to see him as just a friend, catching yourself whenever your thoughts drift too far. when he laughs at one of his own jokes, that contagious laugh lighting up his face, you remind yourself that he’s just sunoo, your best friend. when he smiles that bright, heart-stopping smile of his, you train yourself to look away, to ground yourself in the friendship you already have.

there are moments when the urge to reach out and just say everything rises up so suddenly it almost takes your breath away. but each time, you swallow it back, promising yourself that this silence is worth it, that keeping the friendship untouched by unspoken confessions is worth the cost of unexpressed love.

days turn into weeks, and then into months. slowly, it gets a little easier. you start focusing on other things, leaning into hobbies you’d neglected, spending more time with other friends, and setting new goals for yourself. the ache in your heart begins to dull, like a bruise fading with time. you find yourself thinking less about every text he sends, letting go of the habit of analyzing every word, every emoji. the butterflies that once took flight at the smallest hint of his affection start to quiet down, becoming memories of something you’re learning to let go of.

then one day, it happens. the two of you are sitting together, laughing over some ridiculous story he’s telling, and you realize with a sudden, quiet clarity that you’re no longer waiting for something to happen between you. the pang you used to feel when you looked at him that longing for something more, feels almost absent, replaced by something softer, more comfortable. and just like that, you understand: maybe, just maybe, you’re finally moving on.

the realization fills you with a bittersweet sense of relief. there’s freedom in it, a lightness that settles over you as you realize you can finally be by his side as just a friend, without the constant weight of unspoken feelings pressing down on you. you’re proud of yourself, too. proud of the strength it took to let go of what could never be, to find peace in what you already have instead of yearning for something more.

as days pass, you find yourself enjoying this new stage in your friendship. without the burden of your secret feelings, every moment you spend together feels lighter, easier. you laugh freely, knowing there’s no longer an unspoken confession lurking in the back of your mind. the quiet ache that once colored every shared joke, every smile, is gone or at least you tell yourself it is.

and sunoo notices the change, too. one day, as you’re both walking home after a long day, he glances at you, a smile tugging at his lips.

“you seem… different lately,” he says, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

you smile back, hoping he doesn’t notice the slight blush on your cheeks. “different? how?”

he tilts his head, squinting at you thoughtfully. “i don’t know. happier, i guess? like something’s changed.”

you laugh, brushing it off with a casual shrug. “maybe i just finally figured some things out.”

and it’s true. you feel lighter now, free from the weight of what-ifs and unspoken desires. for so long, you had convinced yourself that sunoo was the only one who could fill that place in your heart, that loving him was something you had no control over. but now, you understand that love doesn’t always need to be confessed, that sometimes, the strongest kind of love is the one that allows you to let go, to find happiness in simply being close.

yet, even as you convince yourself that you’ve moved on, there are quiet moments that betray you. sometimes, when he throws his arm around you casually, or when he looks at you in that way that’s both familiar and fond, you feel a faint flutter, like an old feeling waiting to resurface. it’s a quiet, buried warmth, something you’re not sure you’ll ever truly get rid of. but you keep it hidden, folded away in a place you don’t have to look at too often. you’ve buried it well, but it’s still there, waiting.

for now, you’re content to keep that love hidden, unspoken and safe. you tell yourself it’s okay. the soft warmth in your chest isn’t a burden anymore, it’s just a part of you, a gentle reminder of a love that didn’t have to be spoken to be real. you’re happy by his side, as his friend, sharing laughter and secrets and every small, precious moment in between.

so you continue on, content in the simple joys of being sunoo’s friend. and if that buried love still lingers in the quiet, unguarded moments, well, that’s something you’ve learned to live with. it’s enough, you tell yourself.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!)

requests. open!

©levandright

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mitskicain · 10 months ago

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navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ the doghouse — ken sato x reader

synopsis: you head home from last night’s escapade only for him to come knocking on your door..

content warning: innuendos, suggestive, cursing and profanity

word count: 2k

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002: bird in teeth

The aftermath of that night left the both of you, passed out in the tangle of each other’s bodies. It was hard to slip out of his grasp and when you awoke just before sunrise—his grip around your waist still tight even deep in slumber. As you picked up your clothes that were thrown carelessly on the floor, you looked back and smiled at the sleeping figure, face exhausted but basically beaming with that post-sex glow. God if it were real, you would light up like a goddamn generator. Either way, you smiled, silently thanked him for the night, lifted some cash out his wallet and were on your way.

You heard someone say something about how with one night stands, you always leave something behind—an eyelash, a shirt, your dignity at the door. The general idea was that you’d lose something every single time, thus the notion that you shouldn’t engage in these kind of activities, the idea to you always seemed so ridiculous. Sure, maybe you lost a little bit of self-respect every time you did, giving parts of yourself away like that, but you’d always take something in return. Sometimes you’d take something small and insignificant as a memento: a decorative teaspoon, a comic book, a little trinket—sometimes cash, for the cab ride back home, you’d reason (you took the train).

And in the early morning commute back: so many other women and men that shared the same look of exhaustion, sometimes contentment, more often shame—took the 5AM train with you, all doing the walk of shame. You never agreed with that phrase, somehow found it patronizing and demeaning, or maybe you just felt it didn’t apply to you. The ride back was always so refreshing. You felt reborn, energized—like a succubus after claiming a soul. This was your life, and that's how you would spend your nights, so you could spend your mornings like this: skimping through the half-empty streets in last night’s clothes and ruined makeup with a bit more pep in your step. Hell, sometimes you even skipped all the way back.

It was Sunday morning: the bar you worked at closed on Mondays and would only reopen Tuesday night, so you had a whole faux weekend to sleep away. You passed by the church on the way back and lingered slightly, watching the crowds and families clamor out. I wouldn’t be welcome there, you thought to yourself. They wouldn’t want a sinner like me. Somehow it reminded you of your family back home, in their Sunday best, rushing to get from church towards iHop. That was you guys’ tradition. At the sight of the memory, you felt something inside of you twist and churn. You brushed off the feeling and showed it somewhere deep inside of you, where it wouldn’t threaten to resurface, and continued the walk back home.

When you turned the key towards your apartment, your dogs, Lassie and Strauber greeted you by the door, jumping up at you excitedly. You patted them affectionately and opened the backdoor for them to go run around in the tiny balcony yard. You huffed out contently, watching them run circles and chase each other within the space; you grew up with dogs, can’t imagine a life where you didn’t have some sort of trustworthy companion that would stick with you through thick and thin. When you moved from the country to the big city; your dogs, a tiny suitcase, and the beat up truck were all you took. They stuck their heads out the window, panting and eyes wide—looked back at you, excited for the new life that was to come for them.

The ceiling fan spun circles above you, now sprawled out on the couch. Summers in Tokyo were hot, but you also couldn’t exactly afford the electric bill if you blasted the AC on. At least work had good air conditioning. For now, you just had to figure out a way to beat the heat until you could clock in again. You sighed and put your arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun’s glares, and slowly drifted off to sleep—trying to make up for the lack thereof from last night. You dreamt vaguely of the grass behind your grandfather’s farm, long and thick, billowing in the wind. You, Lassie, and Strauber ran up hills and picked fruit from the trees to enjoy. You napped underneath the huge cherry vines with its flowers perfuming the breeze. The countryside was boring, but it was home. Sometimes you wondered if leaving was the right thing to have done.

Your daydreaming was cut short by an abrupt knock on the door. Getting up and still drowsy from sleep, you didn’t think about looking out the peephole before opening the door to tell off whoever decided to come bother you.

“What do you want?” You bark at the figure in front of you. Only when your eyes adjust to the light do you realize who you’re talking to. You step back a little, alarmed to see him again so soon.

“Hi,” Ken smiles sheepishly through the half open door, “can I come in?”

“What the hell,” you say, a feeling of unease coursing through your body, “how did you get here- how.. how did you find out where I lived?”

He holds up your day planner, covered in stickers, sharpie doodles, and jangling keychains—it held your work card and a small sum of cash too. It must’ve slipped out of your pocket and into some crevice somewhere when he tore off your clothes last night. You scowl at the memory, impressed by your bad luck. Sighing, you unlock the chain and let him in. Lassie and Strauber barked from behind the yard’s screen door, and he jumps a little at the noise.

“You’ve got dogs?”

“No, I don’t—you must be imagining things,” you reply, a little annoyed by the question (and his presence). You didn’t like seeing the men you slept with again, they always found ways to make things weird and awkward.

Ken shoots his hands up in surrender, sensing your hostility.

“What do you want?” You ask again, sitting down the couch, opening up your day planner to figure out what other information he could've gotten. Phone number? Email? Bank account?

“I didn’t take your money,” he comments, you shoot him a look. “Unlike someone here.”

“Hey!” You answer defensively, “it was for a cab, alright? I deserve to be able to get back safely.”

“Cab, sureee,” he draws out his words, his voice carrying a playful lilt, “400 bucks for a cab?”

“It’s a long way from your place to mine,” you cross your arms over your chest, “also you ruined my underwear, I was claiming compensation.”

“What? That little thing?” He laughs, throwing his head back and wrapping his arms over his waist. “Honey, it’s not my fault that fragile little string broke—I wouldn’t expect it to hold up.”

You feel the heat creep up to your cheeks at the mention of last night again. You weren’t the same kind of person in the daylight—easily flustered and more bashful. It was like you had two different personalities living in you, constantly wrestling for control. Maybe your ex was right.

You shake your head and snap out of your internal monologue, trying to regain ground in the conversation.

“Don’t call me honey,” you sneer.

He holds up his hands in surrender again. “Sorry ma’am.”

You roll your eyes.

“Look, thank you for coming all the way to give me my day planner back. It was a- uhm, very generous gesture, but if you will, I have other things to tend to.” You escort him out of your living room and into the hall, motioning for him to leave.

Yeah, other things to tend to do. Like sleeping the entire faux weekend away, and blowing the 400 bucks you lifted on some Indian takeout. Mutton curry sounds so good right now.

You push him out the door, and wait for him to leave, but he just stands there, unmoving. Your eyebrows furrow in frustration and you pinch the bridge of your nose. What was wrong with this guy? You swear he was nothing like the person you had met last night.

“Hello? Earth to Ken? Is that it?” You ask, waving a hand in front of his face. He stands, dumbfounded, eyes wide. After a moment, he finally speaks.

“God, you’re gorgeous in the daylight.”

You’re caught by surprise by this statement, because: one, it’s Ken Sato, famous baseball player saying this to you, but also, two, you thought that it was just something he said under the stench of lust last night. Something people say just to get others to sleep with them. Like I love you or you’re so funny or whatever. You feel your cheeks redden again at his words, and he breaks out into a smile at the sight of this.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he says, “where’ve you been all along? I missed you.”

God.

“Stop,” you look away, embarrassed, hand covering the lower half of your face. “I don’t see my one night stands again, it always turns out messy.”

“One night stand?” He says, face twisting into an expression of amusement. “Well, honey, I’m more than just a one night stand.”

You cringe. “Don’t call me honey.”

Another look of surrender.

“I’m just saying,” a cocky smile stretches across his lips, “it doesn’t have to be that way.”

You shake your head, incredulous.

“Yeah, no way,” you reply, closing the door. He lunges forward and curls his fingers by the edge, fighting back.

“One date,” he says, trying to keep the gap open, “one date and if you don’t like me then I’ll back off.”

“I’m not in the mood to get dressed up and go out.” You say, straining with all your might.

“That’s fine! Then I’ll just come over to your place,” he heaves, “I’ll bring food.”

You’re leaning against the entire door frame, feet slipping from the sheer force of him, but it’s no use—he wins, the door stands wide open.

“Please?” He begs. Your head drops at the sight of him, cursing yourself for getting involved with him in the first place. You should have been more careful, should have picked another guy. Someone that was one and done and you could sweep under the carpet—not someone who would show up to your doorstep and beg for a date.

“Fine,” you sigh, feeling as if arguing was useless. “One date, that’s all you get—and then you fuck off.”

“Yes!” He cheers, fist up in the air like a child celebrating a soccer goal. “I’ll see you tonight at 8!”

You slam the door in his face, eager to get him out. Through the wall, you can still hear his excited whoops. You walk over to the yard and let Lassie and Strauber back in, the both of them making a beeline towards the entrance to sniff out the scent of the man that had just left. Once satisfied, they headed over to your figure on the couch, sprawled in the same position that you were before he came, rudely interrupting your nap. You reached down to comb your fingers through Lassie’s soft fur, long locks of reddish hair, smooth as silk. The dogs yawn and let out a little high pitched sigh.

“I know girl,” you coo, patting the two of them, “just bear with me. It’s just for tonight. Just tonight and then the weird man will leave us alone.”

Weird, you thought. Things had such a way of turning around and rearing its ugly head. When was the last time you had a date? Like a proper one that wasn’t just a precursor to sex? You rake through your memories of the previous months and find all the details meshed together, faces and voices of people blurring into one another. You’d lost track of how many people you used, or how long this kind of thing had been going on for. Deep down you knew it was self destructive, but maybe that was also the point.

I should quit, you thought to yourself, throwing your arm over your eyes again, trying to escape into sleep.

But you tell yourself that same lie every time. You always say you’d quit but you never did.

prev | next

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author’s note: guys I’m so sorry for the delay 😭😭 I’ve just been released from the jaws of hell (uni) and I’ve kind of went ham enjoying my newfound freedom (finally being able to get 8 hours of sleep) also tumblr was being weird like I couldn’t reply to comments or check my messages it sucked bUT ANYWAYS WE’RE BACK SO EXPECT MORE UPDATES SOON 🫵‼️‼️💥💥💥 as always, thank you so much for supporting my work! I hope you guys continue to enjoy what I put out here 🥰🥰👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

taglist: @luneariaa @moonjellyfishie @sweetcheeksbby @shittingonyourgrave @shauu @witcwitchy @fcklxnaa @despacito-uwu16 @mqshido @miffysoo @ybbayk @hore4ken @mochminnie @femmefqtqle @miratastic @lovingyeet @mythicalmo @yourfellowmarzipan @softdumplingposts

#Spotify #ultraman #ultraman: rising #kenji sato #ken sato #kenji sato x you #Kenji sato x reader #kenji sato x y/n #Kenji sato fluff #ken sato x reader #ken sato x you #ken sato x y/n #ken sato fluff #mitskicain’s works #mitskicain

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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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死 KKANGPAE | #09 死

† leather jacket †

“You always knew alcohol could be intoxicating in its own way—but sometimes it takes a few more drops of vodka and some leather jackets for the effect to really seep into your veins."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 5.5k

rating: mature

content: drinking, lowkey hints being dropped, sope bantering like a married couple, truth or dare, V being a lil shit, clothes swap, sexual tension, leather jackets and their scent lingering on your body

☠ author's note ☠

OOOOP? Early chapter drop? Yup yup! Your support and enthusiasm reaching the goal for FMU 14 has truly motivated me and I was honestly SO hyped to post this and see you guys reactions? 👀

Not me having written a completely different version of how this chapter could have gone and keeping it from you all… (◕‿◕✿)

What can I say? That's what happens when you’re sad and horny. Don't worry though, I've saved it for… research purposes???

ANYWAY! There will be time for that in the future. Many times. Many, many times. cackles maniacally while typing

Is the slow burn slow burning enough for you? I don't know about you, but I LIVE for that charged atmosphere where every accidental brush of hands feels like someone dropped a toaster in a bathtub. The lingering stares! The almost-moments! The internal screaming! Beautiful stuff, truly.

And we're finally delving deeper into the plot! Nine chapters in and you finally know the reason behind the number one rule of the gang. Took long enough, right? In my defense, building tension is an art form, and I am but a humble disaster pretending to be an artist.

Also, yes, the goal is right below at the end of the chapter. It's ridiculously high because you all TERRIFY ME. Last time I set it at 100 thinking "this should take them a few days at least" and y'all demolished that in less than 24 hours. :))))) So suffer the consequences of your own enthusiasm, hoes lovely people. 🥰

Also because smut is on the horizon, and I'm 100% going to make you work for it because I'm the god of this fictional universe and chaos is my love language. Start engaging, peasants! Your frustration fuels me. 🙂‍↕️

(A bit unrelated but if you’re feeling particularly generous, I’d appreciate if you could go give some love to the stories on my wattpad? Our numbers are quite low over there! Also—reminder that the goal in Wattpad is a lot lower and it works the same as the one here, so… just sayin’.)

⚔ socials ⚔

read on ao3

read on wattpad

tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

The walk back to the bonfire feels like playing hopscotch between shadows and firelight. There's gang members scattered around like party decorations, laughing and drinking like it's literally their only worry.

You reach Jeon first, holding out his whisky. When his fingers brush yours, something electric zips through your skin. He takes the glass quickly—but not quick enough to hide that moment of hesitation.

"Thanks," he mutters, voice softer than usual—not as stormy as it usually is.

You just nod, trying to ignore how your skin tingles where he touched you.

Stop being a stupid bitch.

You fish out a beer from your hoodie and pass it to Takama.

"Here."

"Thanks!" Takama's grin is always genuine, you notice.

You drop onto the bench next to Yunjin, whose bubblegum hair looks almost neon in the firelight. She brightens when you hand her the other beer.

"You're actually the best," she declares, popping the tab. "What'd you get?"

You lift your glass. "Vodka lemonade. Moon knows his stuff."

"It's weird seeing everyone so... normal," she muses, watching the crowd. "Like we're just regular people having drinks."

"Right?" You take a sip, enjoying the perfect balance of sweet and sharp. "No ranks, no murder plots. Just vibing."

She hums. "Moon's got skills though. That drink looks good."

"He's amazing at it." Another sip confirms it. "Said he wanted to own a bar once. Can you imagine? Our Deputy Commander mixing drinks in some cozy pub?"

"That's... actually kind of perfect for him?" Yunjin tilts her head. "He's got that whole calm, 'everything's under control' energy. Makes perfect sense as to why RM would choose him as his right hand."

"Yeah." You swirl your drink, thinking about what he said earlier. "Makes you wonder what everyone else wanted to be before... all this."

She goes quiet for a moment. "Weird how we all ended up here, huh? Different paths leading to the same psychotic family."

"At least the company's good." You bump her shoulder with yours.

"Yeah." Her smile turns soft. "Really good."

The vodka warms your chest, or maybe it's just the way Yunjin leans against you, comfortable and familiar.

Eunchae suddenly throws her arms around you and Yunjin, all tipsy affection and bright smiles. Her body sways slightly, using you both for balance.

"My favorite bitchessss," she sing-songs, words already slurring. "How're you doing?"

Yunjin melts into the group hug, giggling. "Just vibing. How many drinks have you had?"

"Who's counting?" Eunchae's laughing in that drunken way she has when she's on her third glass of rum. "It's a party!"

You snort, patting her arm. "Maybe slow down though? Night's still young."

"And I plan to make the most of it!" She beams like it's the most brilliant plan ever.

The moment shatters when V practically twirls into the firelight, radiating that chaotic energy that always accompanies him wherever he goes.

His smile, of course, is all teeth—sharp and bright.

"Heeeey everyone!" He throws his arms wide, commanding attention like he was born for it. "Let's remember why we're here! Celebrating our dear leader taking over after his brother got fucking murdered!"

The crowd actually cheers—because of course they do. V could probably announce the apocalypse and make it sound fun. But J-Hope steps in, doctor mode activated.

"V." His tone carries a warning. "Dial it back."

V rolls his eyes like a teenager caught sneaking out, but his grin never falters. You sense weird vibes oozing off him under that playful expression he wears—but it's like he's wrapped it in enough charm that it goes unnoticed.

Or maybe you're reaching?

"His brother's dead?" The words slip out before you can stop them. You turn to J-Hope, curiosity burning. "What happened?"

J-Hope sighs, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. His fingers tap against his thigh—a nervous tell if you know how to spot one.

"It's not exactly classified," he says carefully, weighing each word. "But it's... complicated. RM wasn't always in charge. The gang belonged to his brother first."

You exchange looks with Yunjin, both leaning in slightly. This is the kind of story that explains so much about how Kkangpae operates.

About why certain rules exist.

J-Hope's face contorts in the dim light, shadows dancing over his features he debates how much to share. V watches from across the flames, that sharp smile still in place, like he's enjoying the tension he's created.

"His brother?" Yunjin's eyes go wide with curiosity.

"It's about betrayal," J-Hope says, voice dropping low. "RM's brother led Kkangpae before him. His fiancée sold him out to MDF, and..." He trails off, letting the implication hang in the air.

A chill runs down your spine despite the bonfire's warmth.

"So RM had to take over?"

J-Hope nods, running a hand through his hair.

"Nam—" He catches himself, clearing his throat. "RM stepped up when everything was falling apart. Gang was splitting at the seams, losing territory to MDF."

"Built it back from nothing," Chaewon adds quietly. "That's why he's so strict about relationships. He's seen what they can do to people."

You notice Jeon tense at that last part on your periphery, though he's trying to look uninvolved. Something flickers across his face—pain maybe, or guilt—before his expression locks down again. His fingers twitch toward the cigarette pack he can't use.

"That's..." Yunjin leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. "It explains a lot about how things work around here."

"Heavy legacy to carry," you murmur, watching RM across the fire. He's laughing at something Moon said, but there's weight in his shoulders that makes more sense now.

"Can't forget where we came from." J-Hope's eyes drift to his glass of water. "Makes us stronger, but also more careful. Trust is..." He shakes his head. "Trust is complicated here."

The conversation dies out naturally, leaving you all to digest the story. Smoke from the bonfire drifts up in weird rivulets, as if dissolving the thick fog of tension that seems to have settled over all of you. You find yourself studying RM with new eyes, seeing past the white hair and commanding presence to the brother who had to rebuild from ashes.

You can't help but wonder how many other secrets this gang holds, how many other stories wait in the dark corners of the castle.

"Must've taken some serious balls," Yunjin says softly, respect clear in her voice. "Building everything back up like that."

"It did." J-Hope responds in a hushed tone. "RM rebuilt from scratch—new recruits, stronger divisions. Dragged us back from the edge. Now look at us."

You let the weight of it sink in, watching the flames dance. Because this? This explains so much. About everything and everyone.

The strict rules, the emphasis on loyalty, why everyone walks on eggshells around certain topics.

"That's why we celebrate." JM appears beside you, hands tucked into his oversized cardigan. "Remembering where we started, how far we've come."

The energy shifts suddenly as RM approaches, beer in hand, firelight catching on his dyed hair. His smile is crooked, eyebrow raised like he knows you've been talking about him.

"Why's everyone looking so serious?" He asks, though playfully.

V materializes like he's been summoned, snatching someone's beer out of their hands like it's normal. He clinks his bottle against RM's with dramatic flair.

"Oh, just sharing tales of our glorious leader." V grins, and it sounds almost mocking—were it not for the respect clearly coloring his tone despite all that theatrical bullshit.

RM's eyebrow climbs higher, amusement flickering across his face. He takes a slow sip, eyes scanning your little group like he's reading a particularly interesting book.

"Legendary tales?" He chuckles, the sound warming the night air. "Should I be worried?"

"Just telling it like it is." J-Hope's smile is soft. "What you've built here."

Silence falls, but it's not weird, or tense or uncomfortable. Rather, it's like a brief respite where everyone can gather their thoughts, really look at RM and ponder all he has achieved.

No wonder everyone respects him so much.

"Not just me," he says quietly. "Every person here made Kkangpae what it is today."

You watch him immediately work the crowd, joking and talking with members from every division. It's impressive how he balances it all—being both the guy who can order executions and the one who remembers everyone's birthday.

You know now why people would literally die for him.

RM is not only a leader—but a mentor. A companion. A friend.

AD finally graces everyone with his presence about twenty minutes later.

And holy shit, he's wearing actual pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown over them—giving exactly zero fucks about dress codes or basic social norms.

His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he approaches, moving with his usual 'everyone here is an idiot' energy. The crowd parts for him automatically—partly out of respect, partly because nobody wants to deal with his grumpy ass when he's been interrupted mid-game.

"This meat better be worth dropping League for," he announces to no one in particular, a mix of annoyance and vague threat.

A few people laugh because, well, of course AD was gaming. Man would probably try to finish a match during the apocalypse.

You catch Jeon using the distraction to slip away, moving toward the BBQ area with that silent grace that makes him such a good sniper. His timing is s̶u̶s̶p̶i̶c̶i̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ perfectly calculated to avoid AD.

Takama notices too, because that man apparently notices everything. He gives the group a small smile.

"Going to help with dinner prep," he says casually, but the knowing look in his eyes says he's well aware of what he's actually doing—running interference between two of Kkangpae's most complicated relationships.

You watch Takama head for the grill, where Moon and Jeon are already setting up for dinner.

AD drops into a spot near the fire, his puffer jacket rustling against pajama pants. Only he could show up to a gang celebration dressed for a gaming marathon and still command respect.

The perks of being a genius, you guess.

"He's always like this." Yunjin whispers, leaning her pink head against your shoulder. "All grumpy but like... in a way that works?"

"Yeah." You watch AD pull out his phone, probably checking League stats. "Like he exists in his own dimension but somehow still runs cyber security for a whole criminal organization."

Eunchae sways closer, definitely past tipsy now. "He's literally just a cat in human form." She giggles. "A really smart, really angry cat who can hack the government."

"That's AD for you." J-Hope's smile is fond despite his words. "Brilliant bastard works best when we leave him alone with his computers."

The conversation drifts into lighter territory, gang members sharing stories about missions gone wrong and parties gone wild.

Someone brings up the time V tried to convince everyone he could parkour off the castle roof (he couldn't), and another mentions how AD once hacked the castle's speaker system to blast K-pop when RM pissed him off.

At some point, your eyes end up drifting to the grill again, where Jeon's rolled up his sleeves to help with the meat. The distant light catches on his silver chain, on the tattoos snaking down his arms, and—

Noooope. You take a long sip of your drink.

Tonight's about having fun with your friends, not staring at your division chief like some horny teenager.

After a couple minutes, RM's got everyone hooked on some wild story about a past operation. He's actually a good storyteller—knows exactly when to pause for dramatic effect, when to throw in a joke. His white hair glows as he gestures, painting pictures of close calls and clever escapes.

Everyone goes quiet as he hits the climax, especially the new recruits like you.

Because this is more than just a story—it's their story, really. All the shit they've been through together, all the wins and losses that made Kkangpae what it is.

Movement catches your eye as Jeon comes back from the grill, empty-handed but smelling like smoke and grilled meat. His eyes sweep the crowd before landing on you for a beat too long. You don't know why you shift in your seat.

The smell of dinner gets stronger, making your stomach growl. Moon and Takama have outdone themselves, judging by the heavenly aromas drifting over.

You stretch as you stand, joints popping after sitting so long. Everyone migrates toward the food like moths to flame, and you walk behind everyone right along Yunjin.

Once it's your turn, Takama hands you a plate with a little bow, looking stupidly proud of himself. The grill's loaded with enough food to feed an army, everything sizzling and perfectly charred.

"What'll it be?" He grins, waving at the spread. "Got spicy pork, garlic shrimp, Moon's fancy chicken..."

You're still trying to decide when Jeon appears beside you like a s̶e̶x̶y̶ stealthy shadow. The heat from the grill has nothing on the warmth he radiates like a fucking stove.

"Try the bulgogi," he says quietly, like he's sharing a secret. "Moon's got a special marinade."

You turn to him, eyebrows raised. "Yeah? That what you usually get?"

His lips quirk up slightly, pupils reflecting the firelight. "I know good food when I see it. Trust me on this one."

"Fine," you match his almost-smile. "But if it sucks, I'm blaming you."

Something flickers across his face—amusement maybe, or satisfaction. "Deal. But it won't."

Takama watches this exchange with poorly hidden surprise.

"He's right though," he adds, grinning. "Moon really outdid himself tonight."

Takama loads your plate with bulgogi and all the fixings, somehow making even serving food look elegant. You catch Jeon watching you, his dark eyes lingering on you for a hot second before snapping back to the grill.

The plate feels heavy as you turn away.

Was that—

No.

You definitely didn't just see the ghost of a smile on Jeon's stupidly p̶r̶e̶t̶t̶y̶ annoying face.

You shake your head, trying to dislodge that thought along with the weird flutter in your chest. Walk back to the bonfire, where everyone has gathered once again.

You catch AD practically drooling over his plate of meat when J-Hope strikes like a particularly aggressive mother hen. In one smooth motion, he swaps AD's feast for what looks like a garden threw up on a plate.

"What the fuck?" AD stares at his new plate of greens like it personally offended his entire family. "The hell is this shit?"

J-Hope grins, way too pleased with himself. "It's called vegetables, genius. Some of us care if you die of scurvy."

"Did I fucking ask?" AD's eye twitches. "Give me my food back before I hack your medical license."

"Not happening." J-Hope holds the meat plate higher. "Your blood work was atrocious last check. You need fiber."

AD rises from his seat like a hissing cat. "Listen here, you overgrown nurse—"

"Fucking—!" J-Hope dances backward, still holding the plate hostage. "I swear to god, you're worse than a toddler—"

"At least toddlers don't have to deal with control freak doctors!" AD lunges for the plate. "Give it back before I reprogram all the hospital equipment to play Baby Shark!"

"Try it!" J-Hope dodges. "I'm not letting you die of a heart attack at thirty just because you refuse to eat a vegetable!"

They chase each other around the fire like two cats fighting over territory, completely forgetting they're supposed to be respected Council members.

Truly, the sight of Kkangpae's scariest hacker trying to tackle their head doctor over grilled meat is... something else.

J-Hope scurries away from AD's grab, his face scrunching with frustration. "God, you're so difficult. Maybe if you ate a vegetable once in your life, I wouldn't have to babysit you!"

"Fuck off!" AD snarls. "I survived this long without your fucking helicopter parenting."

"Oh, I don't know, maybe it's thanks to my job as Chief Medical Officer?" J-Hope throws his hands up.

"Which you're gonna lose if you—that's it." AD's eyes narrow dangerously. "I'm revoking your med bay access. Have fun treating patients from the parking lot, doc."

"Are you actually insane?" J-Hope's voice rises. "You want people to die because you're throwing a tantrum over vegetables?"

"There's plenty of doctors in your division." AD's voice drips venom.

"You little—"

"Give me my damn food," AD cuts him off, eyes glinting with malice, "or I'll double your clinic hours too."

J-Hope hands the plate back with a heavy sigh. AD's victory grin would be cute if he wasn't such an insufferable brat about it. He tears into the meat like he hasn't eaten in days, and J-Hope watches with the tired resignation of someone who's fought this battle too many times.

You don't miss how V drapes himself over JM like an overly affectionate puppy, all charm in one package. His voice drops low, honey-sweet with poison underneath.

"Your hair's like moonlight on the Han River tonight, Chim."

JM flushes pink, fingers twisting the hem of his oversized cardigan. It's weird seeing the Finance Chief so f̶l̶u̶s̶t̶e̶r̶e̶d̶ vulnerable—usually he's all gentle smiles.

"Stop it, Tae," he mumbles, but there's no real protest in it.

V leans back, looking way too pleased with himself. His laugh sounds like dark chocolate tastes. "What? Can't admire how pretty you make yourself?"

"Not for you," JM says, but his lips twitch upward.

"No?" V's eyes glitter dangerously. "For the stars then? Giving them competition?"

JM shakes his head, laughing despite himself. "You're absolutely ridiculous."

"You love it though." V tilts his face skyward, looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. But you've seen him throw knives without blinking. "Admit it, Jimin. You'd be so bored without me."

"Maybe." JM's voice goes soft. Fond.

You watch them, these two opposite forces... It's like watching a mouse play with a snake, except the mouse knows exactly what game they're playing.

The fire makes V's face look almost tender, and you wonder if that smile is sincere at all.

The bonfire's died down to a gentle pulse now.

Most of the gang's cleared out, leaving just the Council and a few others scattered around.

You smell it in the air—woodsmoke and lingering BBQ smell, plus that weird mix of everyone's signature scents—cinnamon, sandalwood, fresh lemons.

Pine.

AD sways on his feet, drink sloshing dangerously in his hand.

"One more round?" His words blur together, eyes squinting like he's trying to focus on three J-Hopes at once.

SMACK.

J-Hope's hand connects with the back of AD's neck. "You're already wasted, dumbass. Put the glass down."

"Fuck off," AD rubs his neck, scowling like an angry kid. "I'm celebrating."

"Celebrating what? Your last functioning brain cell?" J-Hope's eyebrow shoots up. "Remember last time? When you redecorated my clinic walls?"

"That was—" AD waves vaguely, almost falling over. "Different."

"Right." J-Hope's voice drips sarcasm. "Just like when I had to carry your drunk ass upstairs while you rambled about beating RM at Mario Kart?"

"Never happened." AD tries to stand straighter, fails spectacularly. "I never lose Mario Kart. 'Specially not to that... that dimpled nerd..."

"Sure." J-Hope watches him sway with tired resignation. "I'm not playing nursemaid tonight. Last time I practically had to read you a bedtime story."

"Got there fine myself!" AD protests.

"After decorating the hallway with your dinner!" J-Hope throws his hands up. "The recruits thought someone had poisoned you!"

Everyone laughs, because watching Kkangpae's scariest hacker get mothered by their head doctor is honestly peak entertainment.

The fire catches on AD's blonde hair as he wobbles again, and you catch J-Hope tensing, ready to catch him if needed.

For all their bickering, it's kind of s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ amusing how they look out for each other.

"Let's play truth or dare." AD's eyes gleam with drunk mischief. "Keep the party going without dying of alcohol poisoning."

Everyone shuffles closer to the dying fire, and you settle between Yunjin and Eunchae, feeling the warmth of both the fire and the vodka in your system.

"No life-threatening dares," RM warns, using his Commander Voice™ despite the slight slur in his words.

Eunchae bounces in her seat, hair vibrating with her. "I'll start!" She zeroes in on JM. "Truth or dare?"

JM fidgets with his cardigan sleeve, firelight catching on his round glasses. "Truth."

"Ever stolen from anyone here?" She leans forward, grinning.

Pink creeps across JM's cheeks. "I... maybe borrowed V's favorite lighter once? But I gave it back!"

"Knew it wasn't just misplaced." V drapes himself over JM's shoulders, smile sharp. "My little thief."

The nickname makes JM flush darker. Everyone laughs, and he quickly redirects attention to AD. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." AD's still rubbing his neck where J-Hope smacked him earlier. "Do your worst."

"Most embarrassing mission moment. Spill."

AD's cocky grin falters. "Fuck. Fine. Had to hide in a dumpster once. Got attacked by this demon cat for two hours straight. Came back looking and smelling like actual garbage."

You snort so hard your drink almost comes out your nose. Even Jeon's lips twitch, which is practically rolling on the floor laughing by his standards.

"Yeah, yeah." AD waves off the laughter. "V, truth or dare?"

"Dare, obviously." V's eyes glitter dangerously.

"Do your best Flower impression."

V stands with theatrical grace, straightening his posture until he looks eerily like your division chief. His voice goes sharp, nailing Chaewon's don't test me tone.

"Listen up, you worthless men. Touch my girls, I remove your hands. This is a crucial mission—no room for your masculine incompetence. Follow the plan or face consequences. I hate all of you equally." He pauses, then adds sweetly, "Except Jimin, of course."

Everyone loses it at V's impression, especially JM who's clapping like an excited seal. V takes an exaggerated bow before dropping back down next to JM.

"Not bad." Chaewon tries to hide her smile and fails. "But we'll work on that impression later."

"My turn." V's eyes lock onto RM with some kind of sharp focus he gets sometimes. "Boss man, truth or dare?"

RM sets his drink down, looking thoughtful. "Truth."

"Ever regret any decisions as our fearless leader?"

RM goes quiet. Something dark passes over his face, and you remember what J-Hope said earlier about his brother, about betrayal and loss.

"Yes." His voice comes out rough. "Leadership comes with its share of regrets."

Silence descends, only the crackling fire interrupting it. It's like momentarily, everyone is holding their breath, like they've stumbled onto something they weren't meant to see.

"But that's in the past." RM shakes it off, mask sliding back into place. "Jessi, truth or dare?"

"Dare." She sits up straighter, ready for anything.

"Dance around the fire." RM's smile turns playful again.

"Pffft. Easy."

Jessi jumps up without hesitation because of course she does. She moves like she fights—confident, though clearly powerful. Everyone cheers her on, the earlier tension dissolving into laughter.

"That was fun." She drops back into her seat, grinning. "Moon, truth or dare?"

"Truth." Moon adjusts his glasses, looking amused.

"Got any secret wine stashes in that castle of yours?"

"Not so secret now." He chuckles. "A man needs his vices, and good wine happens to be mine."

The game continues, everyone getting progressively bolder with their challenges as the alcohol flows.

You're about to call it a night when V's eyes land on you.

A dangerous sparkle glints on them, and you don't like it one bit.

"Your turn, princess. Truth or dare?"

You blame the vodka for what comes out of your mouth next.

"Dare."

The way V's smile spreads across his face makes your stomach drop. He looks like a cat that just cornered a mouse, which is never a good sign.

"Swap clothes with Jeon."

The group goes quiet. Your eyes snap to Jeon automatically—he's gone rigid, jaw clenched tight enough to crack teeth. His eyebrow piercing glints as he quirks it up.

"Pick something else." Jeon's voice is sharp and direct.

"Nope." V pops the 'p', clearly enjoying this. "Rules are rules."

"This isn't—"

"What's wrong?" V cuts him off. "Scared of a little clothing swap?"

Jeon's gaze goes rigid. The fire catches his silver chain as he shifts, and you catch a whiff of pine and mint. His eyes meet yours for a split second before darting away.

"Fine." He practically spits the word. "But just the jacket."

Everyone goes quiet, heads swiveling between you and Jeon. You can practically hear V's inner thoughts as if he's considering pushing for more, but even he knows when he's pushed far enough.

Your heart does a stupid little flip when Jeon shrugs off his leather jacket. Because it's going to smell like him, you realize. Like pine and wood and s̶m̶o̶k̶e̶ whatever.

This is fine. Everything's fine.

He walks over to you, jacket finally off him—the one he practically lives in, and jesus christ—the black turtleneck underneath fits him like a second skin. Your eyes trace the way it clings to his shoulders, his chest, every muscle clearly defined under the fabric.

You peel off your hoodie before you can overthink it, though it catches in your hair because of course it does. When you finally emerge, your white turtleneck suddenly feels too tight, too revealing.

Especially when Jeon's eyes darken as they sweep over you, and his tongue flicks out to play with his lip ring.

Something hot coils in your stomach.

You try very hard not to stare at his mouth.

His gaze feels like a tongue licking down your neck, lingering where the turtleneck hugs your curves. His Adam's apple bobs, and he wets his lips again.

You catch yourself wondering what that lip ring would feel like against your—

Stop being horny around your superior, damn slut.

The night air raises goosebumps on your arms, but you barely notice. You're too busy trying not to gawk at him again, to openly stare at how his turtleneck stretches across his pecs. Your fingers itch to trace the lines of muscle you can see through the fabric.

But then V's laugh breaks through the tension like a bucket of cold water.

Right. You have an audience.

You thrust your hoodie toward Jeon, desperate to end whatever this heat is.

His fingers brush yours during the exchange, sending electricity shooting up your arm.

You slip into his jacket and immediately regret everything.

You were wrong.

It doesn't smell like pine and wood and whatever.

It smells like leather and tobacco and something wild, like pine trees after rain. Like a fresh breeze coming through the forest on an autumn morning.

Your heart hammers against your ribs as his scent wraps around you.

Jeon looks almost p̶a̶i̶n̶e̶d̶ uncomfortable as he pulls on your hoodie. His usual fluid grace is gone, movements stiff and awkward. The hoodie that drowns you barely fits across his shoulders, and something about seeing him in your clothes makes your pulse skitter.

Okay, no. This is not fine.

Because his goddamn shoulders strain against your hoodie like it's trying to contain a force of nature.

It's weird seeing him in something so... soft?

He moves, trying to adjust in the smaller piece of clothing—clearly not his size. So it rides up, revealing a strip of tattooed skin right above his waistband.

You've seen his tattoos before.

Yet, somehow, this accidental glimpse feels more i̶n̶t̶i̶m̶a̶t̶e̶ inappropriate than all your training sessions combined.

His eyes snap to yours, catching you staring. Suddenly it feels like all oxygen has been depleted. His jaw clenches, the muscles working under his skin in a way that's suddenly very distracting.

Everything feels magnified—the rise and fall of his chest under your hoodie, the flex of his fingers at his sides, the way his silver chain slightly bounces with his breathing.

The party fades to background noise, and all you can focus on is how his presence seems to fill every inch of space around you.

He looks impossibly hot, and it's unfair, really.

It's unfair how your heart pounds so loud you wonder if he can hear it. It's unfair how there's something magnetic about him tonight, something that makes you want to step closer even as your brain screams to maintain distance.

It's in his stance, his gaze, the storm brewing behind his dark eyes.

And then he speaks, low, gravelly and utterly, utterly unfair.

"Looks like it fits you better than it does me, sunshine."

It sends shivers down your spine, that nickname again. Because the way he says it? Like it melts down his lips like honey dripping right from the comb?

Not fair.

But nothing about Jeon has ever seemed fair.

Not now, not before. Not even as you two make it back to your previous sitting spots.

But you saw it—the way something flashed across his face when he said it, like he was allowing himself that tiny reprieve. Something so wild and unguarded that had disappeared so fast you almost think you had imagined it.

Truth or Dare keeps going, each round getting bolder, but you're having trouble focusing. Your brain keeps circling back to the leather jacket wrapped around you, to the scent of forest that's definitely not helping your concentration.

Jeon's eyes find yours across the fire for the hundredth time tonight. The way he's looking at you now... It's definitely different. It makes your neck burn hot.

Because it's like every time your gazes lock, the air gets a little thicker, a little harder to breathe.

"You good?" Yunjin's whisper cuts through your thoughts. She bumps your shoulder, pink hair falling in her face as she studies you with that too-knowing look of hers.

"Yeah, just thinking." You manage a smile, hoping the firelight hides how warm your face feels.

Someone then dares AD to do aegyo and nearly gets their laptop privileges revoked. You laugh, enjoying the moment with your crew.

But you can't lie to yourself. You're still stuck in this weird bubble where all you can focus on is how Jeon's jacket feels against your skin, how it carries his warmth like it's trying to brand you.

It's not long before the bonfire burns low, casting longer shadows across familiar faces. People start drifting away in twos and threes, sleepy and dizzy.

RM stretches. "Time to wrap it up. Early start tomorrow."

"Ready to go?" Yunjin tugs at your sleeve. "I'm about to pass out."

You nod, pushing yourself up on slightly unsteady legs.

The walk back to the castle feels dreamlike, caught between the quiet forest sounds and your own thundering heartbeat. You tell yourself it's just the alcohol making everything feel so intense.

Yunjin is chattering about something and you feel kinda bad—because you're not really listening. Your brain's too busy replaying every moment by the fire, every loaded glance, every touch.

Your room feels smaller somehow when you finally get there. You close the door and lean against it, trying to get your head straight. The fabric over your shoulders heavier now that you're alone, like it's carrying more than just Jeon's scent.

You shrug it off slowly, fingers catching on worn spots in the leather. The smell of pine and wood hits you again, making your stomach do that stupid little flip thing.

You don't want to analyze what that means.

Taking a deep breath (that definitely doesn't make your head spin with his scent), you lay the jacket at the end of your bed.

It looks wrong there, too dark and dangerous against your regular bedding.

You change into pajamas quickly, like you're trying to outrun your own thoughts, and the truth is the cotton feels too soft after the weight of leather, too normal after everything that happened tonight.

Sliding under the covers, your eyes drift back to the jacket.

It's just clothing, just leather and zippers and thread. It lies there, so inanimate—and yet, somehow, so full of meaning.

The castle creaks and settles around you, leaves rustling outside your window as you wait for drowsiness to drag you under.

You tell yourself the only reason you're not hanging the jacket up is because you're too tired.

goal: 300 notes. next chapter will be posted immediately AS SOON as the goal is reached. 🧚🏻 do your thing kiki nation. <3

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missmonsters2 · 2 years ago

Text

Mirror, Mirror | Six: Epilogue

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

PART FIVE

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: You never really thought about Wanda other than the fact that she's your best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. It just wasn't in the realm of possibilites, so you never let yourself develop feelings. At least until someone points out that you have a very specific type when it comes to dating, so maybe it is all subconscious? Reader's POV

Warnings: best friends to lovers. shenanigans. jealousy, jealousy. sexual tension. pining. yearning. sexual thoughts. spicy (tumblr's version). stupid steve. neurotic nat. brat & stinky. bug as in shutterbug.

*explicit version will only be available on Ao3 & will be posted there after series is completed*

Note: Mini Series is completed! Thank you so much for tagging along with me <3 Explicit version available in a week.

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Count: ~3.1k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You rarely think about sentences that could change your life.

There are too many instances that could change your life; therefore, it would be moot to think about.

You have a terminal illness.

You've won 69 million dollars.

Someone you love has horrifically died—no, there were no remains.

It's all too overwhelming to think about; therefore, you don't. Yet, somehow, if you ever did think about life-changing sentences, you didn't think it could ever be, "Hey, have you noticed how you seem to exclusively date girls who look like Wanda?"

And it was like the ground crumbled underneath you. It was such a sickening realization—not that Wanda was in any way sickening—it was the fact that you might just be subconsciously a pervert.

The more you thought about the words, the more horrifying it became. Every one-night stand, every situationship, every girlfriend—god, they all looked like Wanda.

You're too scared to think about it deeper in fear of what it would reveal subconsciously every time you kissed or fucked a girl. Were you thinking of Wanda? God, you just couldn't think about it.

This was all Bucky's fault. You wished you had never gone out onto that balcony that night.

3 months prior to that night at the bar with Wanda & Steve

The cool air felt better, and the breeze settled on the back of your neck. There was definitely too much wine going around, and you only managed to escape as Tony brought out the hard liquor.

The crowd dispersed after several shots you didn't partake in. You stared into the distance, thinking idly how Tony had way too much money. Old money was ridiculous. Why does someone need a garden fountain as big as a pool?

Movement caught the corner of your eye, and you saw Wanda and Vision walking through the dimly lit garden. You smiled fondly at your best friend as she laughed at whatever charming thing Vision had managed to say.

Vision was...just okay, in your opinion. You thought he was too nonchalant about Wanda, and that was why they were so on and off rather than consistently being together. Wanda deserved someone who loved her fiercely, and you couldn't imagine Vision always putting Wanda first.

You watched with slight melancholy when Wanda linked her arms through his as they sat on the ledge of the garden fountain. You wished you had also brought someone along for this party.

"Hey, thought I saw you sneak out here."

You turned around and saw Bucky holding a glass of beer. You smirked at him with mirth. "You know what I must do when Tony starts bringing out the grey goose."

Bucky shuddered, clearly having been roped into a few shots. He came and stood next to you, catching the scene you were staring at. "Guess they're back on then?"

You shrugged. "Guess so. We'll see how long it lasts. I'm betting 3 months."

"Be realistic. It'll be 2 and a half months," Bucky snorted.

"Ye of little faith," you teased and then sighed. "I wish I also brought someone along. I should've brought that girl I met at my photoshoot."

"The brunette with green eyes?" Bucky asked, and you nod. "You know what I've noticed?"

"Hm?" you hummed in response to Bucky's casual tone.

"You seem to have a very specific type when it comes to dating," Bucky mused. "They're always brunette—save those two girls from university—and they always have green eyes."

You furrow your brows in serious thought. "I suppose so."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, his tone still casual. "They always remind me of Wanda, especially from the back. I always have to make sure I'm careful not to mix up your date with Wanda."

Bucky ended it with a chuckle, stating he was getting cold before he left without another world, leaving you alone outside.

The connect dots snapped into place almost instantly, horrifying you as you continued to stare at Wanda from above.

Oh, fuck.

Maybe it was a good thing you didn't bring anyone tonight. You're not sure how you'd be able to take someone home into your bed with the daunting realization you go after girls who look like your best friend...because you actually want your best friend.

The three months since that discovery had nearly driven you to insanity. Since you refused to talk to anyone about it, most of your thought process was, " Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no."

But in the end, you resolved that it couldn't happen. Wanda would never reciprocate your feelings in a million years, especially since she had Vision. Wanda occasionally even talked about the possibility of marrying him down the road.

It wasn't happening. It was never going to happen.

Wanda was more important to you than anyone in the whole entire world. You would never allow anything to risk the friendship—even your feelings.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

You felt like a sick sexual deviant.

Despite your resolve to bury your feelings and continue on as normal, it was getting increasingly weird to continue to see girls who looked like Wanda. Yet, you couldn't stop. It wasn't doing it for you otherwise.

But now, every time you kissed a girl, all you could see was Wanda in her. Sex was beginning to become a guilty pleasure for all the wrong reasons.

When you met Raye, it felt like another sinful thing to lust after, knowing how much she physically reminded you of Wanda. But you could see a big personality difference in the short time you spent chatting with Raye.

Wanda was the type you spoiled, indulging in her strange, wacky ideas. She could be very emotional, swinging from one side of the spectrum to another. She had such a big heart, willing to love, but also held grudges and was wicked if crossed. Wanda was a brat in all the loving ways you could mean.

Raye could be best described as emotionally consistent. On the surface, she portrayed a wicked sense of humor and was fun to be around, but she was much more guarded than Wanda. She was very independent, not liking anything that might even intrude on her freedom. Raye kept her true feelings close to herself and seemed to be teasing you to come find out.

It was different. You didn't mind, maybe liking it even (purely in the sense it was the opposite of Wanda, and you couldn't afford to keep lusting after your best friend in all possible ways).

Even so, your mind was distracted on the first date.

"Have you ever done a boudoir photoshoot?" Raye asks, her tone low and seductive.

"Can't say that I have," you smile, trying to remind yourself to be present during the date. It's been long since you've properly wined and dined someone, and Wanda kept entering your thoughts.

"Well, there's a first for everything and you might even have a willing model," Raye bit her bottom lip suggestively, her index finger stroking the back of your hand.

And while the southern twang does stir something in you, and you feel your stomach tingling, you're very aware that it's because Raye physically reminds you of Wanda. So, your mind traitorously imagines Wanda biting her lip and saying seductive things to you.

"THEY WOULD NEVER—"

You whip your head around, swearing you heard Wanda. When there was no sign of her, you furrowed your brows in confusion, turning back to Raye.

Was this a sign of insanity?

You resolve right then and there to focus on the lovely brunette before you and enjoy the date. It was easy enough if you relaxed and earnestly asked Raye questions about herself.

It was easy enough to hold Raye's hand and swing it back and forth if you just thought about how warm they were.

It was enough to giggle when Raye leaned in closer to whisper something silly or naughty in your ear if you just thought about how her breath felt on the shell of your ear.

Suddenly, the car next to you went off, the alarm beeping loudly enough to make you and Raye jump in surprise. You turned around and noticed the couple behind you were gone. You thought they looked slightly familiar, but it was too difficult to determine when they were so far away in the dark under passing streetlights.

Ultimately, you walk Raye up her steps, unsure what you want your next move to be. Everything feels strange since the revelation. You feel guilty for your lust, but specifically what causes it.

But when Raye pulled you in for a hot, searing kiss, you decided to just go with the flow...which also ended up being nothing as she got a call from her sister while clothes were discarded.

The call was only bordering on 40 seconds, but you decided your momentum was lost, and you needed that momentum to have sex with someone else while you tried (unsuccessfully) to not think about Wanda.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Fuck. Darcy.

Those were the only words that could come to your mind after Wanda texted her vague answer about whether or not she was returning home tonight.

You sighed as you scrolled through the videos and photos, trying to get a headstart on putting together the video for Tony and Pepper. As you began opening up files, many were corrupted by the inability to open or glitchy images.

With another sigh, your chair scraped against the floor as you shifted back, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to the videographer asking if you could meet up tomorrow to get the SD card for the originals. You got a prompt reply with a thumbs-up emoji with a time and place.

You thought you might've just heard something shuffle in your room, but you forget about it when it's quiet again.

In the end, you spent another 45 minutes scrolling through some other photos that weren't corrupted, catching Wanda in the background and staring with a lingering thought about how absolutely pretty she was.

A part of you was in disbelief that Wanda was interested in women. You had so many questions that still lingered, but you didn't want to push Wanda or make it seem like you were interrogating her, and she needed to prove it.

Still, you wondered what exactly made Wanda come to terms with the fact that she liked women.

Specifically, why couldn't you be the reason she was interested in women? You shoved those forbidden feelings down, beating them back into its box to put away.

It didn't matter.

It shouldn't matter.

You're with Raye, and Wanda may be with Darcy. Or some other girl, or maybe even with a guy again.

It's just not going to be you.

And that's okay, you tell yourself. You can love someone without having to pursue anything. You just want to be there for Wanda.

Of course, all of this changed the moment you watched a slanted confession video from an unaware Wanda while your roommate was out for lunch with a client.

Shock is the only thing that registers upon the video finishing. Were you hallucinating again? Was this like the first date with Raye where you kept thinking you could hear or see glimpses of Wanda?

But you played the video over and over, blinking every time it was finished.

Then a burst of strange laughter bubbled from your mouth, and then horror dawned on you that, 'oh, fuck. She actually feels the same way.'

It was unclear whether or not Wanda was trying to let her feelings be known or if she was also facing the same issue as you, where she was suppressing them. Either way, Wanda would unlikely be brave enough to say anything soon.

You spent the week humming and hawing about what pursuing a relationship with your best friend would mean. What would the consequences be if things didn't work out? What would the consequences be if you declined to pursue anything more despite if Wanda confessed? What would the consequences be to watch Wanda move on and love someone else?

Your stomach dropped.

You needed to break up with Raye.

Your stomach dropped.

You wait 3 more days before confronting Wanda since she's clearly a chicken.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"You knew you had feelings for me for at least 3 months?" Wanda screeches. "And you said nothing?!"

"Okay, relax, you banshee," you wince at the sound. "How is that the only thing you hung onto out of everything I just told you?"

"But...but!" Wanda narrows her eyes on you. "It was getting serious with Raye!"

"Serious?" you raise your brow at Wanda. "What gave you the idea it was getting serious? We were dating but I saw her maybe a few days out of a month with how much she flies out for work."

"So, it wasn't getting serious at all?" Wanda frowns.

"Well," you purse your lips. "Maybe for Raye. She was considering transferring to another department so she wouldn't have to fly out anymore."

Wanda's mouth hangs open, her face pale with the worst thoughts of what might've been if they never confessed their feelings.

"Which," you cut in like you're able to read her mind, "obviously, I told her to not do as I wanted to end things with her."

"How did she take it?" Wanda asks curiously.

You look uncomfortable as you shift in bed, but Wanda waits patiently. "I think she just emotionally shut down. There were no tears, no screaming, or any accusations about why I was ending things. She just looked impassive as she accepted it and asked me to leave."

"Oh," Wanda bit her bottom lip. She feels bad in a way, but not bad enough to regret making you hers. "I'm sorry, bug."

You sigh as you reach over and pull Wanda close, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder. The blanket shifts down, exposing Wanda's neck and collarbone where you had unabashedly marked up.

"Now, are you done with the questions, or can we resume where we left off?" You ask mischievously, pressing languid kisses against the side of her neck.

Wanda closes her eyes with a soft hum, pressing her body closer to yours until you shift and move over Wanda.

"I notice that you didn't mention anything about Darcy."

"Mention what exactly?" You say between kisses, stroking Wanda's hip. "That I was insanely jealous and wished her ill? Although, now that I know it was a fake date and neither of you had interest in each other, she seems nice."

Wanda laughs. "Even after she hacked your laptop?"

"With your help, might I remind you," you pull up and pointedly look at her. "But if she never corrupted those wedding files, I would've never got the original SD card and found out about your feelings."

"Very true," Wanda muses as she throws her head around your neck and pulls you close. She pecks your lips charmingly. "We should get her a nice bottle of wine."

"What about Steve and Bucky."

Wanda scoffs. "They're meddling little school girls who are probably kicking their feet and giggling."

You can't help but laugh before you dive in for another kiss, eager but slow. Oh, man. You were going to love Wanda for the rest of your life.

After a moment, Wanda sighs. "Okay, fine. We can give our McDonald's coupons to Steve and Bucky."

You laugh again. "Alright, brat."

"Okay, stinky."

"Chicken."

"Stupid."

"Witch."

"Here we go again with that," Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile. "I'll have you know that if I were a witch, I'd be the most powerful and best witch ever."

"I bet you would," you agree very readily. "Instead of cursing people to death, you'd be saving their lives...or causing mass chaos. Huh, I guess that's not so different from now."

Wanda scoffs indignantly before she starts tickling you. You laugh, trying to jerk away, but Wanda is persistent in keeping you in place.

"Mercy!" You laugh as you roll to the side.

"Take that back! I do not cause chaos!"

"I take it back! You're clearly an A-List superhero!"

Wanda continues to tickle you anyway. "Say you love me!"

"I love you!"

Only then does Wanda stop, grinning wickedly as she presses a chaste kiss to your lips, and you're breathing heavily.

You want to call her a menace, but you're afraid that will only result in another tickle fight.

Wanda smiles warmly.

"I love you, too."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"See, I told you Wanda would be the one to confess!" Steve smirks.

"That's because you're a little cheater who went and nudged Wanda along," Bucky rolls his eyes with a smile.

"Oh, yeah, like you're the perfect picture of fair," Steve narrows his eyes. "Don't think I don't know that you went to Bug first. I had to step in and nudge Wanda to make the odds even."

"Was it really Wanda who confessed when it was Bug who technically discovered her secret."

Steve seems to think about it before he slumps into the sofa, "I feel like that's a gray area." Then, Steve frowns. "Ugh, but then that means neither of us wins the bet."

"We can just call it even," Bucky shrugs, laying his head on Steve's shoulder.

"Oh, no," Steve shakes his head. "I won't let you wriggle out of our bet. We will watch all the Lord of the Rings movies if you lose."

Bucky groans loudly. "But there's so many and they're so long."

"You really think I want to watch the Star Wars movies?" Steve rolls his eyes.

"They're a classic!" Bucky argues.

"So is Lord of the Rings."

Bucky huffs but concedes. "Fine," he wrinkles his nose. "Should we bet on something else?"

"No, I like the thrill of two people getting together, even if it takes time. Besides, we have the time since we have to finish a whole bunch of shows," Steve says.

"Hm, which ones of our friends are due to get together?" Bucky muses.

"We could try Nat and Maria," Steve suggests.

"No, too hard since Maria doesn't live here," Bucky shakes his head and then offers, "Yelena and Kate?"

"I think they're actually already together," Steve furrows his brows. "But if they're not, I'm too scared of Yelena to get involved in her affairs."

"I think that's all our friends who are technically single with a viable date option," Bucky sighs.

Silence falls between them before Steve suggests, "Want to bet when Tony and Pepper will announce they're pregnant?"

They stare at each other for a moment before they yell out their guess at the same time.

"6 months!"

The silliness of it all leaves Steve and Bucky giggling.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x y/n #avengers imagine #scarlet witch imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #modern avengers au #Elizabeth olsen x reader #mm: my fics

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captainsophiestark · 6 months ago

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After An Eternity

Finn Mikaelson x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries/The Originals

Summary: Finn's oldflame is the only person who might be able to convince him to stray from Team Esther while in a new body in New Orleans.

Word Count: 1,916

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"I won't do it! We're monsters, do you hear me? Monsters!"

I flinched at the sound of an unfamiliar voice shouting from the adjoining room in the Mikaelson compound. Finn Mikaelson, my former best friend and the love of my life, was apparently alive in another man's body in New Orleans, wreaking havoc on the lives of his siblings and doing his mother's bidding.

A lot had changed since the last time I'd seen him.

"You see what I mean?" asked Rebekah, who stood next to me. "He won't listen to reason. He's been absolutely ridiculous since Sage- Um. Well, since Sage... died."

I pursed my lips and let out a long sigh through my nose. I had some truly ancient history with the Mikaelsons, and for the past 1,000 years or so I'd been doing my best to avoid, ignore, and forget it. I'd been having pretty good success, too, until Rebekah had managed to hunt me down for help with Finn. And no matter how much I didn't want to get involved, I also couldn't say no.

I'd first met the Mikaelsons ages ago, when we'd all still been human. We'd lived in the same village, and I'd grown up with all of them. Finn and I were born within months of each other, so we'd been especially close, and it had been common knowledge that Finn and I were going to get married within the year.

And then Esther had turned them all into vampires.

None of them had exactly been happy about it, especially as nature exacted its toll beyond anything Esther had imagined. Finn ran off before I'd even realized what had happened, scattering to the winds to try to cope with his new reality. A few of the other Mikaelsons had stuck around a bit longer, and I tracked them down as soon as Finn vanished to get an explanation of everything that had happened.

Once I understood everything, I begged them to change me. Finn was the love of my life, and the other Mikaelson siblings were the only real family I'd ever known. Klaus refused, and although I nearly managed to sway Elijah, he eventually refused me too, neither of them willing to bring me into the eternity they'd just been forced to share.

It took longer than I would've wanted, but eventually, I managed to find Rebekah. She was by far the most devastated about her new life as a vampire, which was why I hadn't bothered to approach her until she was my last chance. But she was also desparate for a lifeline, especially if it came in the form of a sister. Despite her reservations, I managed to convince her to turn me. She helped me through the transition in secret, keeping me alive while somehow also keeping her brothers in the dark, and then she helped point me in the right direction to find Finn. She promised not to tell anyone anything until after I'd found him, and we made plans to meet back up after I'd reunited with the love of my life.

It took me over a year to find him. I ended up returning to Rebekah more than once during that time, until finally, I managed to find the man I loved in one of the larger European towns, following a hunch and a vague description from someone who saw someone matching my love's description.

I'd planned the moment of our reunion so many times in my head, but when I finally found him walking down the street, he was hand in hand with another woman, laughing and smiling at her like he used to with me.

My heart shattered on the spot, and I barely had the presence of mind to hide myself from his sight before I shut down. Looking at them had ripped my chest open and tore out everything important, and I'd run away before they'd been able to spot me. I'd gone briefly back to Rebekah, but her brothers refused to stop causing dangerous drama, and she could never stay away from them for too long. I'd decided to disappear and leave all of it behind me at almost the same time Nik shoved Finn into a coffin, and I learned that Finn had turned the woman he'd been with the last time I'd seen him.

I spent the next 900 years putting Finn and the rest of his family behind me. I'd traveled the world, spent time with incredible, wonderful people, and used the extra time and power being a vampire afforded me to protect people who needed it and do my best to do good in the world. Losing Finn still hurt, and knowing we were two of the only people who'd been alive as long as we'd been sat as a constant reminder of everything in the very back of my mind. But on the whole, I'd been able to put that to the side and focus on enjoying my eternity, as much as possible.

Until a few days ago, when Rebekah had managed to track me down.

To her credit, she'd come to find me without spilling the secret of my existance to her brothers. She'd caught me up on the highlights of the time we'd spent apart, and on everything that had happened with Finn in the past few years. And because I still loved him, despite all the time apart and the hurt of losing him to someone else, I'd agreed to come to New Orleans with Rebekah with barely a second thought.

"You said you found a way to get him back into his body, right?" I asked, making sure to keep my voice low as I spoke to Rebekah. I did my best to drown out the shouting of Finn and his brothers in the next room. "How is that even possible?"

Rebekah just shrugged. "Witches."

I sighed, taking a moment to consider my options. Finn needed my help. He was still important enough to me that I wanted to give it. But once I walked through that door, Klaus, Elijah, and Kol would all know I was still alive. Any chance I had at continuing to fly under the radar and live peacefully would be gone.

I'd gotten to spend ten lifetimes exactly the way I wanted to. It was time for me to face the things that had been lurking in the back of my mind for 1,000 years.

"Alright," I finally said. "Alright, let's do this."

Rebekah nodded, then stared at me as I didn't move. She raised an eyebrow, and that was enough to finally get me to huff and take the last few steps into the dining room without letting myself second-guess.

The four Mikaelson boys were mid-argument, but they all froze when I walked ino the room.

I'd marched in here without a plan of what I wanted to say, and all four boys were apparently too stunned to speak. Luckily for all of us, Rebekah swept in to save the day.

"Thank god! I was wondering what it would take to finally get some peace and quiet out of the four of you!"

I couldn't help laughing. Although Rebekah and I hadn't seen each other regularly, I still considered her a friend, and had for the past thousand years.

"You're alive?" Nik demanded, finally finding his voice at the same time Finn found his, gently and quietly whispering my name.

My eyes snapped to Finn's, ignoring Nik completely. He didn't look like himself, but he didn't need to for me to recognize the same heart I'd always known.

"Hi Finn," I breathed, letting the smallest of smiles creep onto my face. "I... I missed you."

He breathed my name again, quickly closing the distance between us to take my hands. I noticed the other four Mikaelsons sharing looks with each other over Finn's shoulder, but I ignored them.

"Have you... where have you been? How is this possible that you're here?" asked Finn. I gave him a soft smile.

"Rebekah turned me about a year after your mother turned the rest of you. You disappeared from the village right after, and it took me a long time to find Rebekah, and than an even longer time trying to find you..."

"But you found me?" he asked, still wide-eyed and completely breathless. "Why didn't you tell me you had turned?"

I shrugged, a rueful smile pulling onto my face.

"You were with someone else."

Finn frowned in concentration, and I could see him flipping back through his memories. When he found the one of Sage, he froze, his hands gripping mine tighter.

"I... I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't know. I thought... I didn't want to be a vampire. I still don't. I didn't want to pass that curse on to you. I thought you'd be better off with... without me."

I gave Finn a sadder version of my earlier smile.

"Immortality can definitely be a curse, Finn. But it can also be a blessing. It just seriously depends on how you spend that immortality, and who you spend it with. I'm happy with my choices, but... I wish I could've spent it with you, too."

Finn just shook his head at me, apparently still considering, so I continued. Rebekah had tracked me across the Earth for a specific reason, after all.

"Finn... I know you think we're monsters. And I get it, honestly, I do. But please listen to me when I say... there is so much more to this life than whatever drama your brothers get into on the regular. Or your mother, for that matter."

The other Mikaelsons had more or less given us space until now, but I heard a distinct snort from Nik at my words. I ignored him, holding Finn's hands tigheter and pulling him a little closer since I knew what I was saying might make him want to pull away. Finn just shook his head.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"That's okay. I don't either, really. But... maybe you could go back to your own body? Not to admit defeat or go along with your brothers or anything, but more so I can talk to you as yourself. I've waited a thousand years, after all. Why don't you say we get the hell out of here and talk? We can come back, if you want to, or you can. But we also don't have to."

Nik started to say something again, but this time, Elijah silenced him. I kept my eyes locked on Finn's, and after a moment, he slowly nodded.

"I... I think I could do that. For a short time, at least. I owe you that much, after... after everything."

I squeezed his hands again and gave him a small smile. I could see the other Mikaelsons celebrating behind me, but Finn and I ignored them, except to make plans to get him back in his own body. I knew our brief reunion was no garuntee that he'd change his mind about being a vampire, or about taking Esther's side. But for some reason, I couldn't help having a good feeling about things.

After a thousand years on this Earth, so many lifetimes lived, different people loved, and Finn's literal death, we'd somehow found each other again. No matter the odds or the obstacles in our way, I couldn't help feeling like we'd finally cleared the last real hurdle. It felt like we'd endured enough to make this incredibly late fresh start work, in a way that could actually last.

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

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

TVD/TO Taglist: @elenavampire21

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kaiserposting · 1 year ago

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Michael Kaiser — Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.3k TYPE: Angst, Post-break up WARNING(S): Don't read if you're sensitive to medical stuff, also tw for KAISER-TYPICAL MELODRAMA

“Are you fucking kidding me? That just sounds made up.”

“Sir,” the doctor, who’s been having to deal with Kaiser acting like the hospital is a debate club for the past fifteen minutes, says. Then he lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. In all honesty, he does not want to deal with this. “While there’s an existing argument about the classification of broken heart syndrome, it is a real thing that happens. And you have it as we’ve deduced.”

“I don’t have health problems,” Kaiser says. Of course, those words fly out of his mouth without trouble even when Ness had to call an ambulance on him and everything, since he looked like he was on the brink of death today at practice. “Much less from bullshit reasons like a broken heart.”

“You don’t need to take it literally. That’s just the name. The trigger for the stress varies from case to case.”

Kaiser hopes his defensive statement didn’t reveal anything too personal, and decides to throw off any suspicion by staring down at his lap while frowning like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. At least the doctor doesn’t seem to care because he’s not prying for unnecessary details. Not yet, anyway.

“For how long have you been ignoring the symptoms?”

“I haven’t been ignoring anything,” Kaiser says.

Sure, he was dizzy a few (many) times and short of breath, and disregarded it. And while he can sense the tightness and pain in his chest each time, a recurring physical and tangible ache, Kaiser interprets the experience as some kind of metaphor for the figurative stabbing he was a victim of. The arrhythmia is a natural indignant response to whenever your irritating face pops up in his imagination, since you’re the perpetrator.

All this over some shitty break up. While it’s stupid for someone whose career is in sports to shrug off such obvious signs, until today Kaiser never truly thought it was serious enough to warrant such an overreaction from his body. You shouldn’t have this much power over him. He’s going to kill you next time he sees you for doing this to him.

He’s deep in denial and the grave he’s been digging with his stupid lies is shallow in contrast, inefficient. Can’t even deceive himself.

“It’s most common in people over fifty.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

“What I’m saying is, I assume you’ve been ignoring this for some time and it escalated to a bad attack. So, do you recall if you’ve gone through severe stress recently? Anything traumatizing even, either physically or mentally? When was it? If you could be exact, that’d be helpful.”

Traumatizing? Traumatizing? Is this man fucking kidding him right now?

Kaiser stares at the doctor as if he’s the stupidest person alive. Forget a person, he is a bug for such a suggestion. Through grit teeth, he relents, “There was something two weeks ago. By the way, it wasn’t traumatizing! That’s ridiculous.”

What’s even more absurd is the notion Kaiser wouldn’t know how much time has passed with perfect accuracy. Fourteen days he hasn’t been sleeping well, hugging his pillow and crying like a loser, cursing you, wanting you back, both a worshipper and a heretic.

What was he feeling at that moment, when you broke things off? Was it overwhelming anger which got him to this point? Though he’s been reliving the moment over and over, Kaiser still can’t identify it. Just something intense zapping him through his veins, a devastating shock, a surge of adrenaline. But surely it was resentment at your audacity to throw him away like disposable trash? He doesn’t like the thought that he’s been so pathetically sad, he got sick because of it, so this is what he’ll go with.

Thinking about it is enough to make him start picking at the skin on his neck like he’s trying to peel the ink off. It’s almost vile. At least he retains the common sense not to squeeze it in front of a medical professional who can send him away to a psych ward with ease.

The doctor, too, looks at Kaiser like he is an insane person. Good thing they pay him enough for this — otherwise, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with having a strange man with a bizarre haircut give him attitude over his diagnosis when it should be reserved for his barber or whoever is responsible.

“Two weeks ago, okay,” he says, writing it down. “Lucky for you, this is temporary and reversible unlike most other things we checked you for. You’ll be fine in about two months with the treatment.”

“So, like I thought, it’s not a big deal. I can still play football, right? Don’t need to lay off or anything?” Kaiser asks.

The doctor sighs. Again. He wants to measure the circumference, thickness and density of Kaiser’s skull. “You’re not listening,” he says, clearly exasperated, but still trying to exert patience. “Your heart is weak and not functioning properly at the moment. You can’t immediately jump back into living the way you usually do. It’s still serious no matter what you say and it can cause complications.”

Kaiser makes an annoyed expression like this is all one big inconvenience rather than a threat to his quality of life. “Are you serious? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

“I’m honored you seem to think I’m a hilarious comedian, sir, since this is your nth time asking, but it’s not the case,” he says levelly.

“Don’t get clever with me.”

A sharp inhale through the nose and the doctor’s back on track, maintaining a feeble grasp on his inner peace, at least enough not to snap. Then, after this brief recollection, he reaches out to grab something, then holds it up. It’s a picture that looks either like an abortion-to-be or a black and white photo of lasagna… maybe. “This is your heart.”

Kaiser almost forgot about the ultrasound or whatever since he was strung out and sedated- relaxed throughout that whole ordeal. At the sight of it now, always theatrical, he decides the best course of action is to wrinkle his nose and say ‘eww,’ even though he’s not squeamish. But treating the matter seriously means admitting he has a problem, and he can’t have that.

The doctor pretends he can’t hear anything and points at the relevant area with his finger to illustrate the crux of the matter better. “You have apical ballooning. Do you get it? Even if it’s temporary, you can’t treat it lightly. So-”

Kaiser tunes out the rest of the explanation. Blah, blah, he could harm himself, very original. His gaze is stuck on the echocardiogram, though, and this time he’s nauseous for real, the tiniest bit. It strikes him as particularly ugly and deformed. Organs are repulsive to begin with, anyway, but this… thing is his, and he’s seeing it now. In any case, nothing so disgusting is worth loving or treating with care.

Is this how you’ve come to see him? What does Kaiser look like in your eyes? Ugly and maladjusted on the inside? Someone who likes laughing at other people’s misery, but can’t take even the slightest puncture? So out of touch with his emotions — and of his own volition —, he’s started experiencing them in the most visceral way possible. His desire for you: torment, a disease.

Would you find him dramatic? Maybe, but at least you’d make him laugh and smile and anything else his troubled mind has decided he needs at the moment, from you alone. Doesn’t matter, though. He’s not privy to that kind of thing, not anymore.

There’s a sting in his eyes and Kaiser wipes away his tears with a hasty swipe, though a few more stream down his cheeks. He doesn’t even know what he’s crying about again.

The doctor observes the display with the distanced apathy of someone who’s watched people die and shit themselves.

He gets discharged with a prescription and elaborate instructions on how to go about his physical activities until it’s deemed he’s fully healed at the later check-ups.

Great. Pitiful.

___

What's funny is that Y/n's probably having a good day while all this is going on

#michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #kaiser x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader

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panlight · 2 months ago

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I remember you had a post once about how it was like Smeyer low-key "forgot" she was writing a vampire/werewolf story by the time BD happened and so many things were exaggerated (like the Cullens suddenly being ridiculously rich, Carlisle having so many friends (not just *any* vampires, some of which are from powerful/well-known covens) despite the cullens supposed to be "freaks" in the vampire world for their diet etc.)

It made me think that Smeyer even kinda exaggerated (or really dialed up) the lore she set up with her vampires (even werewolves too kinda). Gifts are supposed to be "rare" yet so many vampires who gathered have special talents to the point "vampire X-men" kinda became a joke within the fandom because it really did start giving off superhero vibes. (i can get behind mind reading and illusions, but Benjamin with his vamp avatar stuff started to lose me and I just,,,didn't care for all these vampires.) And maybe its just me, but i personally felt Smeyer really ramped up how strong the vampires were? Leaping off a wide river with jumps that can cover TWICE the distance gave me Superman vibes like...vampires aren't supposed to be *that* strong. (At this point i half-expect Emmett/newborn Bella to be strong enough to stop a falling building though I'll admit that can be funny for a shitpost/crackfic) You already made your vamps ridiculously op just on the first three books Stephenie, you don't have to add more to them. 😵‍💫

Even with werewolves imprinting is also supposed to be "rare", but since the pack was introduced, every now and then we're told a new pack member has imprinted since Sam (Jared, then Quil, then Paul and then tragically, Jacob). i feel bad for the pack, becus I can imagine them now being afraid to form relationships, explore romantic options like any teenager or date anyone for fear of one day they'll end up imprinting.

The established lore *tells* us that stuff are "rare" but then we're *shown* that there really actually *uncommon*

Exactly. She tells us these things are rare and then suddenly it's not.

You can certainly handwave it, if you want. This is the largest pack ever, and it's been a few generations since the last one, so you could make excuses like, "oh they thought imprinting was rare but they were wrong" if you want. You can also excuse with "there are more vampires around than ever so that changed things." But then it's like, why bother telling us it's rare in the first place?

And with the vampire powers, again, we're introduced to the Cullens with Edward and Alice being "the freaks among the freaks" (Jasper's power is a 'subtle gift' and doesn't count, apparently, until it's retconned as near mind-control in Midnight Sun where it makes James, Laurent and Victoria just like, not notice him or Bella. Okay.) and how gifts are rare and most vampires don't have them and then by them time we get to Breaking Dawn it's like fully half of the vampires have gifts, and Renesmee, who isn't even a full vampire, has TWO gifts (projecting her thoughts via touch AND breaking through shields).

SM sort of explains this by saying gifts are rare in the general human population, but more common among vampires BECAUSE vampires are looking for/drawn to special humans, so the percentage of vampires with gifts compared to other vampires is higher than the percentage of humans with latent gifts compared to all humans. And like, again, okay, but you can still have that and still have gifts be *rare*. 2/5 Denali have one, 5/9 Cullens have one. 1/4 Egyptians, 2/3 Irish, 1/3 Amazon. It starts to look like the ones without gifts are deficient in some way, not that the ones WITH gifts are special.

And that's where I have to be a contrarian and be like, ugh, powers. I'm here for vampires, not superheroes. The Alice, Edward, Aro stuff, even Jasper, that fits into the vampire vibes, the way Classic vampires can sort of read you or hypnotize you or influence you. But Benjamin manipulating earth, wind, fire and water?! Siobhan bending reality to her will? And that whole Mele thing from Life and Death just feels SO contrived. Why on earth would anyone develop a power that allows them to steal other powers but not use it themselves, only give it to someone else? It's so clearly just so Sulpicia can have Aro's power. Why can't Sulpicia be clever and ruthless and rule the vampire world without a gift? And again, where are the consequences? At least Edward's mind-reading has some negatives, he can't turn it off, he can't get any quiet. Alice can't have a normal relationship with anyone because she already knows their future together before they even meet. Aro has so many stolen memories--whole other lifetimes!--in his head he's on this other plane of existence. Maybe Benjamin accidentally creates fire when he's angry or upset which makes him dangerous to the vampires he cares about, maybe Siobhan had trouble telling reality from fiction.

Vampires are supposed to be a trade-off. You get immortality in exchange for bloodthirst, etc. If people like the fairy tale or superhero vampires, that's cool! Enjoy! But that's not what I signed up for, and not what the first three books lead me to believe with all their grim quotes introducing each book ('don't eat from the tree of knowledge,' 'violent delights have violent ends,' 'the world will end in fire or ice').

I want powers to be rare and to have downsides. I want imprinting to be rare and for the characters to wrestle with if trading free will for perfect love is a fair trade.

#asks

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bumlets-appreciation-blog · 4 months ago

Text

Six Years of Newsies Observations

(Post Deletion Repost)

I’ve been a Newsies fan for almost six years now and I have this gigantic list of slightly deranged observations and opinions about the movie that I’ve been curating for that time. Since the list is 16 pages/348 points long, I won’t be posting everything but I will be posting the highlights. Please keep in mind that I started the list when I was 17 and I had a massive crush on most of the characters at the time. Hope y'all enjoy!

1. I did not fucking realize that a lot of those random ass black and white behind the scene pictures of the boys were also in the compilation of pictures during the intro. I feel like such an idiot!

5. Bumlets sleeps in the bunk next to the window on the other side of Mush and just flips to the other side of the bed to go back to sleep when Kloppman comes in to wake them up. It’s very relatable.

10. Jack is just casually flicking shaving cream at Mush for no reason whatsoever.

11. Blink really was about to punch Crutchy. “Equal rights, equal fights” indeed.

13. If I remember correctly, the real Mush Meyers got his name either because of his skin color or because he was really sweet on his girl.

19. I genuinely don’t understand what Kloppman is hoping to accomplish by counting the boys as they come dancing down the stairs.

21. Love that little redhead kid by the way. He’s so aggressive.

33. “How ‘bout a crooked politician?” “Hey stupid, that ain’t news no more!” Some things never change ¯\_(ツ)_/¯!

36. I love the older boys playing with the younger ones. They really are brothers.

42. I first saw this movie when I was seventeen and I still don’t understand the “shrimp” insult. It’s not that it doesn’t make sense, it’s just worded in the most ridiculous way.

45. I love the close-up of Les’s blank face. I genuinely do.

47. Bumlets swings his stick around a lot. How many people got hit while filming?

49. Maybe I’m biased because Weasel’s a dickhead, but I feel like if you’re a dickhead who works primarily with teenage boys and you have a ridiculous name, you should be prepared to be made fun of. They probably wouldn’t even make fun of you as much if you weren’t such a dickhead!!!

52. That poor two-headed baby in Brooklyn.

57. “This is my brother Davey. He’s older,” “Oh, no kiddin’”

59. Bumlets has a higher voice than I expected. It’s not ridiculously high or anything, but I just look at Dominic and expect something deeper. I do love how it sounds, though.

63. Excuse me, that poor three-headed baby in Brooklyn.

64. I feel like if you wanted a good headline, maybe write about the nude corpse instead of the three-week-long trolley strike.

72. “All this for one sip of beer?” Best line hands down.

74. Jack screams like he actually fell off the roof; the little drama queen.

78. Les should be an actor. Medda agrees.

79. Also, can Medda marry me? She’s gorgeous and I love her.

80. The first few times I watched this scene, I thought Medda called the boys her “kids” instead of her “guests.” Sometimes, I like to pretend, though.

85. Les is smoking a piece of licorice! He’s so precious!!!

89. Sarah should’ve had more screen time. She doesn’t have much, but we can see she has such good bones that it breaks my heart that we didn’t see more of her.

96. Dave clearly has no idea what “carrying the banner” actually means.

97. I was a mess at seventeen, but I can’t imagine being that broken and lonely. I will defend movie!Jack with my life.

99. I unironically love the Santa Fe dance break.

101. “Nobody told the horse.”

106. I hate that they turned the “sleeping on the streets” line into a joke in the Broadway show. It’s horrifying that this is something kids have to worry about.

112. David tells Les to shut up after he says strike.

116. I love that one kid with the bowler hat who’s super excited about beating up other kids. His energy is unparalleled.

118. Itey trying to encourage Dave is sweet.

120. Having Les be the only one standing other than Dave during the “and the young stand tall” line is such a great shot.

123. The same number of boys go to Queens and the East Side. Clearly, Jack knew that Pie-Eater, Snoddy, and Snipeshooter were not going to be as effective as Bumlets, Specs, and Skittery in spreading the word about the strike.

131. Yes, Dave is a Walking Mouth and we love him for it.

132. I love that Spot is a tiny fifteen-year-old boy, but he’s clearly the scariest person in the city. He’s running a newsboy mafia, for God’s sake.

134. David should’ve sung more. Like solos and everything.

135. Bumlets has bouncy hair and I love it.

141. I’m lowkey obsessed with the “Solomona and Hart Used Bookstore” behind Denton.

142. When he’s running up the ramp, Bumlets tosses his head to get the hair out of his eyes and it’s so good.

144. Skittery was trying so hard to jump on that kid’s back and it’s just not working out.

147. So many of the younger boys have sticks. Are they trying to copy Bumlets, Skittery, or both?

150. I bet the boys feel awful about Crutchy. I guarantee that Kloppman gave them the worst lecture of their lives when they got home without him.

153. I saw someone say that Movie!Crutchy not wanting to be carried was a sign that he had internalized ableism and I kind of want to scream just thinking about it. Maybe Crutchy just has boundaries.

155. “Seize the Day” (choral version) is so pretty. I’m sure all of these men and teenage boys would be thrilled to hear that I think they sound “pretty.”

157. I’ve got a still of Bumlets in that scene and if I ever make a Newsies blog, that’s what the icon is gonna be. I’m gonna try and find either a GIF or a picture of the newspaper photo for the banner. (AND I DID!!!)

161. Jack looking at David right before yelling, “Let’s soak ‘em for Crutchy!” was an apology because it was literally the exact opposite of what David just told them to do.

162. I just love how all of these grown-ass men are so eager to beat up children. It’s so charming, isn’t it? Fuck all of them.

164. “Never fear, Brooklyn is here!”

168. I think if I had been younger when I’d seen this movie for the first time, I would’ve imprinted on Spot Conlon like a baby duck. Instead, I was seventeen and now Bumlets is stuck with me.

169. Bumlets smiles into the camera and then changes to a surprised look. I think Dominic Lucero forgot he wasn’t supposed to be smiling until the last second.

170. Jack “No Pictures” Kelly smiling like an angel in a group full of beautiful disasters is my aesthetic.

177. I can wax poetic for hours about Bumlets’s hair, but when Snoddy runs his hands through his hair, it’s just as beautiful.

179. Giving Race’s “Sheepshead” line to a different newsie in the Broadway musical was so stupid. His name is literally Racetrack!

182. The exchange Race had with Itey was adorable.

185. I love Racetrack’s voice.

186. Bumlets’s hair goes flip.

189. Nothing’s better than watching a grown-ass man crawl on the floor to get to his place for the next shot.

190. FAN SPIN!!!!!!

192. Bumlets is the last to get the paper and I guarantee that he gave it to Kloppman as soon as they got back to the Lodging House.

196. “Our man Denton!”

197. “That’s Jack!” “You know this boy?” “No, never heard of him!” Jesus Christ Crutchy.

199. “That’s an unusual name for these parts” is on par with Crutchy’s conversation with Snyder in terms of ridiculousness. Bless you, Specs.

204. Sarah is so pretty like wtf.

208. “It’s the same sun as here.” I need more of Sarah gently calling out the boys on their stupidity. I bet she’d do numbers on Skittery and his misanthropy.

212. Robert Duvall really threw his whole-ass heart and soul into this movie.

215. I saw the theater exterior in pictures from Universal’s back lot. I tried picking out other locations, but since they’re more dressed up in the movie, it was hard to know for sure which locations were which.

218. “High Times, Hard Times” is such a fun song.

222. Blink, Race, and Medda dancing together is cute.

223. Bumlets, Swifty, and Snoddy are dancing behind them.

230. “Gotta kiss Medda goodbye even though I’m about to be arrested!” — Jack Kelly

233. Seeing Medda try to defend Race is heartbreaking.

234. “For God’s sake, he’s just a child, can’t you see that?” Fucking ouch.

241. “On the grounds of Brooklyn, your honor.”

245. Les loves Jack so much.

249. It’s really sweet that Mr. Tibby tried to turn down payment from Denton and even sweeter that Denton paid anyway because Lord knows those boys eat a lot, and giving food away for free like Tibby was gonna (I’m assuming) would be a huge loss for him.

255. “Racetrack, watch him,” and no hesitation on Race’s part to grab Les.

257. Jack lowkey implying that Pulitzer fought for the Confederacy is hysterical.

260. Dave damn near killed a man with the horse trick he pulled.

262. The “Santa Fe” reprise is heartbreaking.

267. Spot was gonna rip Jack’s head off lol.

268. They had to drag him to the back of the group to keep the angry kitten from committing murder.

273. Les is too good for this world and all of the older boys trying to comfort him was heartwarming.

278. I think the little redhead boy is on strike, too! He’s not in the distribution center and it looks like Morris was doing his job.

281. Sweet face? Is that really the best he could come up with?

286. Jack running to David’s rescue in a shaft of sunlight is cinematic poetry.

291. Dave is a snarky little shit.

296. Mush looks so happy to see Jack.

299. Race asking the kids if they know how to read is very considerate and period accurate. Maybe he read the Banner to the kids who couldn’t read.

302. “Disgraceful Denty!”

306. Sweet little Les and his twenty older brothers.

310. I can find Bumlets in the little end shot of “The World Will Know” reprise with all of the other kids. I scared a friend doing that.

312. “It’s like the end of the world! Oh dear, I didn’t say that.”

315. Is Pulitzer aware that the kids probably can’t hear him? Is he aware that they hate him and wouldn’t listen even if they could?

318. Jack tells Les first!!

321. Skittery and Tumbler hugging and then doing the spit shake asdfghjkl!!!

324. “Make friends with the rats. Share what you’ve got in common.”

327. You can kind of see Race and Bumlets talking behind Denton. I think Bumlets is telling Race about Roosevelt.

331. Les is crying! That’s illegal!!

332. Blink’s Chin Tap™

336. Mush and Dave have an underrated friendship.

338. “I got family here.” My heart!

344. I don’t know if I’m jealous of Jack or Sarah. (I wrote this part when I was seventeen and still think it’s funny)

345. Bumlets, Blink, and Snoddy are hanging onto each other!!!

348. The final shot is Tumbler being an adorable bean <3!!

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joels-shitty-puns · 2 years ago

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!

You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way.

Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message.

You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.

Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."

You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.

You try again.

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."

He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.

He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do?

Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*

Pedro Pascal replied to your message:

"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."

You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!

Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."

Holy crap…

He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.

You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "

You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send.

Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."

Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?

You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.

Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…

Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."

???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart

You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.

Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.

You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.

Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?

The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.

Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible.

Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself.

Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.

The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.

As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love.

Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…

_____The day of the interview:_____

You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??!

You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.

Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks.

"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…

He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-

~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~

Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.

Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.

Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"

Both women on the other end of the call applaud.

Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?

You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."

Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up.

At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"

-an air horn blares-

What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.

They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"

To say you were astounded is an understatement.

You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"

Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"

They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"

You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too.

Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."

I already have… you thought with a smirk.

Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"

You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."

Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."

You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.

Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"

You try to play dumb: "Has who?"

Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.

You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.

"Yes. We've talked."

Looking for Track 1? Read it here!

Next chapter: Here!

~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!

Taglist: Let me know if you want in :)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal fic #A! wrote a fic #rpf #pedro pascal rpf #key to your heart

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ilovemybishies87 · 1 year ago

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The Vacation from Hell - Chapter One

Inspired by @damntheyare's amazing fanart. I did end up changing a couple elements because I suck and did not realize who the cat and dog were supposed to be until after I had completed the chapter. Sorry, KeeKee and Razzle/Dazzle!

This will also be posted to AO3, along with all future chapters, once I have an account. Until then, enjoy!

*EDIT* Now posted to AO3!

Alastor wasn’t sure how he found himself in this situation. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. He had some semblance of an idea. The Princess of Hell was known for her harebrained projects, but none more harebrained than a hotel with the sole purpose of redeeming the lowliest of Hell’s sinners. It was ridiculous. Laughable!

But between the song she had belted out to the idea itself, he considered himself sold. Of course, she had no experience running a hotel. That wasn’t so much a flaw as it was a feature. He could only imagine relishing her failure once the futility of her goal dawned on her. Until then he would bide his time in the shadows—a most fitting place, if he said so himself!—playing his self-assigned role as co-manager.

There was only one, tiny problem: he had seriously underestimated how much the universe wanted to fuck him over.

______________________________

“I need to visit a hotel!” Charlie announced.

The ragtag band of guests and staff were lounging in the common room a few days after Sir Pentious’s pitiful attack on the hotel. All except Niffty, who had made it her mission to clean the place from top to bottom. Vaggie and Angel Dust sat next to each other on the sofa, scrolling their phones. Husk stood behind the counter at the bar, finishing his inventory of liquors for the night.

Alastor turned to Charlie standing on the opposite side of the room. Papers plastered the wall behind her, filled with all the ideas she hadn’t yet written off as futile. She seemed frozen in place while she waited for a response.

Eventually Angel Dust pulled his gaze from his phone long enough to give her a brief glance and laughed. “You live in a hotel!” A pair of arms made a sweeping motion around them, emphasizing his point. “Why do you need to visit one?”

Charlie shook her head. “I know that, Angel! I meant a thriving one!” she said, and her grin stretched wide. “One on Earth!”

Alastor raised a brow at her declaration. This time her statement did not go unnoticed. Vaggie’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Angel Dust’s phone dropped onto his lap as he stared at her, incredulous. Even Husk stopped in the middle of his count, ears turned in the group’s direction.

“Hon,” said Vaggie, once the initial shock had worn off, “that sounds—”

“Like the best idea ever? I know!”

“Not what I was going to say,” Angel Dust muttered. He picked up his phone and started scrolling again.

“Just consider it field research!” said Charlie as she crossed the room, hardly able to contain her excitement. “Only for a couple of days, of course. I can’t leave the hotel vacant for long, in case a guest decides to check in.”

“But there are too many unknowns!” Vaggie said, throwing her hands in the air. “Have you ever been to Earth before? People don’t exactly look like they do here.”

“I could wear a disguise!”

Vaggie slapped a hand over her face. “Do you even know how to get there?”

“Not exactly,” Charlie said after a moment, deflated. “But surely someone knows the way!”

Alastor took the opportunity and made his way over to them. “Naturally!” His microphone materialized in his hand. “You needn’t worry about the where or the how, my dear. Nothing my magic can’t handle, not at all! I can get us there and back in a jiffy!”

Charlie stared up at him, hands clasped together. Her eyes practically shone. “Really?”

“Well,” he added, side eyeing Vaggie with a smirk, “maybe not all of us.”

Vaggie put her arm between him and Charlie, shielding her from the Radio Demon. “No way! Even if I thought you knew how to get there—which I don’t—”

“Well, I do.”

“And you do your little voodoo, so you guys blend in—”

“Not voodoo,” stated Alastor.

Vaggie ignored him. “I would never trust you alone with Charlie!”

Charlie looked between her and Alastor. “Vaggie, I don’t want to go without you either! But,” she said sheepishly, “he sort of has a point?”

“Excuse me?!” Vaggie took a step back, eyebrows furrowed.

“I'm just saying,” Charlie continued, wringing her hands, “I’m not thrilled leaving the hotel alone. But if someone stayed here . . . well, there’s no one I trust more than you.”

Vaggie sighed. “I appreciate it,” she said. “I really do! Still, I don’t trust him.” She glared at Alastor’s grinning face. “What’s the catch? You trying to use this to get Charlie to make a deal? I won’t let that happen!”

He couldn’t fault her for jumping to that conclusion. The thought certainly crossed his mind, albeit briefly. But the rewards far outweighed any inconveniences. A simple glamour would solve their . . . unconventional appearances. And while he didn’t particularly desire returning to Earth, the trip would be worth the despair the princess would face once she realized how much of a farce her little Hazbin Hotel truly was.

“Shame,” Alastor said, and flicked his claws. “But perish the thought! Consider this a sub-clause to our original agreement.”

“But why?” Vaggie demanded. “What’s in it for you?”

“You remember—”

She groaned. “Ugh . . .”

“The entertainment!” they said in unison, Vaggie less enthusiastically.

“Come on, Vaggie,” said Charlie. She placed her hands on the other woman’s shoulders. “We won’t be gone long. This trip is what the hotel needs for inspiration!”

“I don’t know. You really think you’ll be fine?” Vaggie glanced at Alastor. “Alone. With him.”

Charlie bit her lip. “It’s fine. Although,” she continued, hesitant, “I would feel a bit more comfortable with added company.”

“Tsk! Very well.” Normally Alastor wouldn’t cave to requests, but he would allow her this small victory. “If you must, we can take Niffty and Husk.”

Husk turned to the trio from his spot at the bar. “Who the fuck said I wanted to go?”

“A trip!” said Niffty, seeming to materialize from nowhere. “Will there be bad boys?”

“What about Angel Dust?” asked Vaggie, and pointed to the Spider Demon who remained silent during their entire exchange.

Angel Dust shrugged and got up from the sofa. He headed off to the staircase, calling back to the group, “Meh, no thanks. I did my time, thank you very much!”

“Then it’s settled!” Alastor wrapped his arm around Charlie, causing her to nearly tumble into him, while pointing his microphone to Husk, then Niffty. “The four of us will go to Earth to do a little ‘field research,’ as it were, while you”—he pointed to Vaggie next, who pushed the mic away— “stay with the hotel."

“I didn’t fucking agree to this!” said Husk, throwing his towel down.

Niffty ran up the stairs behind Angel Dust, laughing maniacally all the way. “How many knives should I bring?”

Vaggie put her head in her hands. “This is a bad idea. . .”

“Ohh, I can’t believe this is happening!” Charlie said, bouncing up and down. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Oh, there’s so much to plan! How do we make reservations? Where do we stay? What should I pack?” She turned to Alastor, suddenly serious. “Do I need to bring sunscreen?”

Alastor chuckled at her enthusiasm. “I’ll let you worry about those last two, my dear. Leave the rest to me! Everything will be ready by tomorrow morning.”

______________________________

The transportation spell took him all night to complete. There were slight alterations for the trip that made casting easier said than done. Part of the blame, in this regard, lay with him. Alastor knew that as time passed in Hell, so too had it passed on Earth. And he had no intentions of going to the Earth of the present.

He allowed himself a small shudder as he finalized the last bit of magic. If he was expending his precious energy he would take them to some place—some time—more civilized, more familiar. Perhaps he was tempting fate returning to his old stomping grounds. And sure, a hotel from times past might not be the most effective for Charlie’s particular goal. But considering the circumstances, she had no right to complain.

After a short breakfast the other five residents gathered back in the common room. Vaggie seemed more annoyed than usual, arms crossed over her chest as she stood by Angel Dust, sleep still in his eyes. Charlie had several bags by her side, including one oversized pink rolling suitcase. A smaller black suitcase was next to Niffty, which if Alastor had to guess was filled with various sharp instruments. Even Husk, despite his protests, had packed a worn leather bag that clinked when he placed it on the ground.

Alastor brought nothing; it wasn’t as if he couldn’t simply conjure what he needed. He did, however, end up forgoing his usual red blazer and shirt ensemble. The pants remained the same, but he decided a thinner white button-down and red waistcoat would be more manageable. Ironically, not even Hell could compare to the omnipresent heat—and humidity, oh the humidity!—of New Orleans.

“Did I pack enough?” Charlie asked, for once not in her usual attire. She donned a more casual pair of thin pink sweats, topped with a sweatshirt a few shades darker, decorated with hearts. She tugged on the bright orange and green purse strapped across her shoulder. “I feel like I’m forgetting something.”

Angel Dust eyed the bags around them. “It’s, what, two days? This should be good.”

“Six, actually,” said Alastor.

"WHAT?!" Vaggie shrieked.

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “With the energy I'll be using transporting all of us, and bags, not to mention the glamours—”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You can’t possibly expect me to use my valuable resources for a couple of days, my dear,” Alastor said, not to Vaggie, but to Charlie, who was currently taking inventory of what she packed. “That shouldn’t be a problem, right? It’ll give you more time to get the full ‘human hotel’ experience.”

“Umm,” Charlie said. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but you have a point. With six days I’m sure to get the full hotel experience, and then some! I did have a question, though.”

“I have many questions,” Vaggie interrupted with a raised hand.

Alastor shook his head. “Manners! Charlie was first.”

“You mentioned glamours. I assume for you, me, Niffty and Husk,” said Charlie, not missing a beat. “How do they look? I mean, how are we going to blend in on Earth?”

“Why don’t I show you instead?”

Summoning his radio mic, Alastor pointed to the ground. Intricate symbols glowed beneath Charlie’s feet, the physical manifestation of the spell. A mirror sprouted from beneath the floor in front of her and a wave of green light washed over her form.

“Charlie!” Vaggie reached out. She turned to Alastor and pulled out her spear, pointing it at his face. “What did you do to her, you piece of—!”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “Oh, relax.” He pushed the weapon away as the light faded revealing Charlie, no worse for the wear. He turned to the blonde-haired demon. “See for yourself!”

The glamour for her had been simple enough. Her skin, including her black-stained lips, shifted from a porcelain white to a more human peach tone. Unfortunately, her most standout feature, her rose-red eyes, turned an inconspicuous shade of brown.

Pity. Red suited her so much better.

Her attire remained unchanged. Something about altering her clothing felt wrong, almost too intimate. He figured they could attain more period appropriate clothing once they arrived.

Charlie leaned in close to the mirror, taking in her new form. “No one will suspect a thing!” She glanced behind, where Alastor stood watching. “What about you?”

The same symbols appeared beneath his feet. He had struggled somewhat with his own appearance. Unlike Charlie, who—despite being Hellborn—more-or-less resembled a human, his own demon form was anything but. The claws, the teeth, the deer-like ears: they all had to go.

He went back and forth on how close his glamour should be to his former life. In the end he went the simple route and replicated how he looked while alive. Dark brown hair replaced his usual striking red and black strands, the style short and unremarkable. His eyes were the same dark shade as his hair, but he allowed himself a pair of red sunglasses in its place.

“What do you think, my dear?” He bowed ever so slightly. “Convincing enough?”

Charlie’s eyes widened, but it was difficult for him to decipher her expression. She met his eyes but averted her gaze just as fast. “Yes. Is that . . . how you were when you were human?”

“Yes, indeedy! The clothes, not so much.”

Angel whistled low. “Wow, the strawberry pimp is not so . . . strawberry.”

Vaggie shook her head, unimpressed. “What about Niffty and Husk?” she asked. “How are you having them blend in?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll approve the forms I’ve chosen,” said Alastor with a smirk.

Niffty nodded so quickly she nearly lost her balance. “Whatever you choose!”

Husk grumbled a response that no one, not even Alastor, could understand.

“Well, we’ve wasted enough time already!” the Radio Demon replied. “We really should be on our way!”

“Wait—!” said Vaggie.

Alastor tapped the ground three times with the end of the microphone. Four scarlet circles, inscribed with intricate scripts, appeared beneath his and Charlie’s feet, as well as everyone’s baggage. The circles appeared under Niffty and Husk as well, along with the same lime symbols as the glamour.

“Do take good care of the place while we’re gone, you two!” Alastor called out as he faded from sight. “It would be a pity if there was nothing for Charlie to return to.”

“I didn’t volunteer for nothing!” exclaimed Angel Dust.

"I have every faith in you, Vaggie!” Charlie said, her voice taking a far-off tone as she also disappeared. “We’ll be back before you know it!”

Vaggie turned to Charlie. “Please, be careful up there! And, whatever you do, don’t—” She tried grabbing her hand but found nothing. Whatever warnings she intended to pass along were never heard.

As quiet as a breath, the group had disappeared.

______________________________

They were definitely in New Orleans. Tiny balconies overlooked the street from the second floors of the buildings surrounding them. His clothes clung to his skin, soaking in every drop of moisture it could hold. Alastor could even make out the smell of spices of Cajun cuisine from a restaurant nearby.

But something was wrong.

An oppressive buzz of electrical energy surrounded him, threatening to overwhelm his own magic. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the hum of static in the air—he had been a radio show host, after all, and quite adept with the technology of his time—but it was nothing like this. Smog, as thick as Hell’s and almost as noxious, spewed from automobiles unlike the ones he remembered. There were more of them too, almost as many vehicles as there were people.

Something had gone horribly wrong.

Space was simple enough to traverse. Moving from one physical point to another was as easy as a snap of his fingers. Or, in this case, a few taps of his mic. Time, on the other hand, was much trickier. It wasn’t linear like one would imagine, but almost a gordian knot, twisting and turning into itself, with present, future and past all jumbled together until it was hard to distinguish between the three.

Alastor found Charlie a few paces away, no worse for wear. The bags were neatly by her side. “You all right, my dear?”

“I should’ve asked what weather to dress for before I started packing,” she said, fanning herself. Even with the thin material, she was clearly regretting her choice of outfit. She might be accustomed to the heat of Hell, but the humidity was something else. “At least our luggage made it. But what about Husk and Niffty? I don’t see them anywhere!”

“Meow!”

They looked down. A black cat with rather unusual ears for the average feline glared at them, at him more specifically.

“Why, Husk, my good fellow!” Alastor said, partly to distract himself from his growing headache. “Why the long face?”

“Oh my!” exclaimed Charlie. She knelt to pick him up. To Alastor’s surprise, she did not end up getting scratched. “What happened to Husk?!”

Alastor waved dismissively. “Not to worry! This is simply the result of his glamour.”

“Yip!”

A small black and tan mutt nosed his shoe, tail wagging so fast it might fly off. Feathered ears perked at the sound of his voice. Alastor’s grin widened as he scooped up the animal and held it under one arm.

“I knew I could count on you to stay close by, Niffty.”

“Niffty!?” Charlie bit her lip, but he could see the corners of her mouth turn up, as if torn between disbelief and excitement. “I mean, I guess this disguises them.” An alarmed look crossed her face. “They won’t stay this way permanently, right?”

“Of course not, my dear! Probably.”

“Al!”

“The spell will revoke once we return to Hell, glamours and all,” said Alastor, rubbing his fingers to his temples.

During their exchange he caught a glimpse of some passersby taking notice of their group. Under normal circumstances he wouldn’t mind putting them in their place, but right now he was not in the mood. Between the drain on his magic and the unpleasant realization of when he was, he wanted nothing more than privacy.

“We probably should get to our hotel to check in.”

With Niffty still under his arm, Alastor grabbed Husk’s bag and placed it on top of the black luggage. He also managed to situate the extra bags Charlie packed—why did she have to pack so much?—onto the larger suitcase she had dragged with her. He regretted his decision to turn the two into animals. An extra pair of hands would’ve been welcome.

“Well, my dear, ready to go? I would offer a hand, but—”

“Oh, no! Don’t worry about it! We have our hands full with these two.” Charlie juggled Husk awkwardly as she reached for her luggage. “Lead the way!”

He took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve.

“Hey, Alastor.”

The Radio Demon looked back. His grin nearly slipped from his face; his throbbing head momentarily forgotten. She was clearly struggling, suitcase veering off course. Husk had clawed into her sweatshirt and climbed his way up to perch on her shoulder. And yet she smiled, a smile brighter than the sun beating down on them.

The shades covering his eyes were not enough to protect him.

“This is unbelievable,” said Charlie. “You’re amazing!”

She could not know. She could never know. That the great Radio Demon had made an error of this magnitude, of this caliber. She had to believe this was all part of his plan, for this trip she desired, that he foolishly granted.

Alastor gritted his teeth and forced his grin even wider.

This was going to be Hell on Earth.

#hazbin hotel #radiobelle #charlastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #charlie morningstar #chalastor #charlie x alastor #alastor x charlie #platonic chaggie #maybe one sided chaggie at most

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skaruresonic · 6 months ago

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I want to like Amy but her fans make it difficult.

Every other moment they're throwing another character under the bus to make Amy look better when that shouldn't be necessary. It's like they're playing victim over something that people don't do anymore.

If Amy is perfect like they claim then they shouldn't feel this threatened whenever another female character gets any kind of attention or praise. But without fail every single time another female character is girly, kind, brave, or anything else you can think of, it's somehow an attack on Amy.

Imagine if Sonic's fans got mad everytime there was a new character who was confident and athletic. That's how ridiculous this is.

Normally I'd say it's not really equitable not to give a character a fair shake just because their fans are being obdurate, but I can sympathize with your mindset when it comes to how folks gas up Sonamy. If they were chiller about it, I'd probably like it more. While I appreciate Sonic and Amy's dynamic as friends, I swear people portray it as an issue of life or death, and it's so freaking tiring.

Despite not posting about her much, Amy is actually tied with Maria for the third spot in my favorite Sonic characters list. Both girls are great characters for similar and different reasons. It doesn't make much sense to me to claim Maria is boring when Amy displays many of the same traits.

Heck, I kind of think people exaggerate how bad her Battle portrayal is, making it out to be the bad apple that spoils an otherwise good bushel. It's not fantastic, pretty Yikes(tm), actually; yet you'd think she singlehandedly ruined the game based on the way folks hone in on her portrayal at the expense of ignoring the others. ...and idk, I still laughed at a few of her lines. :v

Amy sits in the same boat as Shadow in that everyone holds their own interpretation of the character close to heart and will get defensive if you say otherwise. I've noticed a certain stubbornness among Amy fans that is also shared by Shadow fans. One time I said "I'm an Amy fan, I don't need a crash course on her character" in response to being linked a thread on her character, and got hit with "oh you're just saying what everyone else says." Like? bruh?

I'm just not one of those fans who's like "AMY DESERVES EVERYTHING EVER." She has her flaws and foibles, just like everyone else in the cast. She has a tendency to step on toes, be a bit whiny, overbearing and one-minded... and it can be simultaneously true that her kindness wins over hearts. Amy contains multitudes.

But it's almost like, for many people, taking her as she is isn't enough. She needs to practically be shown curing world hunger in order to be considered as valid as the boys or something… Which I kinda find more offensive to her character than dismissing her outright.

Why does Amy need to star in everything before you're happy, even though of the female cast, she's technically enjoyed the most screentime? Again, not to pit two bad bitches against each other, but Maria's representation isn't exactly sterling, especially considering how often folks objectify her as Shadow's morality pet or treat her death as something to shock non-fans into thinking the series is Deep and Dark(tm). If you're really for better female representation, you should be arguing for better representation for every girl character, not just saying "let Amy get hers and fuck the rest." This shouldn't be a competition. Everyone can have a seat at the table.

First the fandom consensus was "Sega sucks because they didn't include Amy in Origins." Then when they actually did that and included her in Superstars to boot, fans proceeded to move back the goalposts. Superstars doesn't count, apparently, because (insert spurious reasons here).

Maybe it makes me a bad Amy fan or whatever, but I find her crush on Sonic to be the least interesting aspect of her character in part due to how much emphasis people put on it. She and Sonic cannot have a single conversation without fans being like "OMG OMG THEY LOOKED AT EACH OTHER SONAMY IS CANON," even if canon implies that Amy is imposing on Sonic, such as SatBK's manual describing Sonic preparing for their date as "awaiting a stressful encounter."

Although I can acknowledge that Amy's crush is integral to her character, the way people talk about it makes it seem like female representation in the series as a whole is at stake every time she's mishandled. There's apparently a hashtag trending on Twitter called #letamylove that was made in response to what people perceive as Flynn's mishandling of Frontiers!Amy, FFS. They can't just say "Amy sounds too depressed in Frontiers," no, it has to be blown up into a near-political issue.

The other thing is that people who ship Sonamy often ignore Sonic's feelings and comfort in the matter. Ohshima's tweet that Sonic isn't a "real man" due to his reluctance to express his feelings towards Amy exemplifies this. It's like Sonic is considered some sort of prize that Amy earns through personal growth, when really, folks should be arguing for Amy's personal growth for her own sake.

#asks

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melodaffine · 1 year ago

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i want to @ all these mcyt ccs, like someone being rude to you is not a valid reason to say their horrible people so they need to be "deplatformed". in a real life example, imagine i go to my professor and i tell them "you need to remove joe from my group and fail him from the class because he was rude to me :(". the professor would just be like "i'm sorry but in life you have to learn to work with people you clash with".

what i just don't understand is like, you will ALWAYS meet people you clash with, that's just how life works because we're all individual people. i can't count how many times i've had to work on a project or be around someone i didn't like or someone who was rude to me. but the difference is, every other person has to continue working with them because it's a commitment. these people are content creators - they don't ever have to work on a project with them if they don't want to. so what's the big deal??? you won't suffer because you don't wanna work with them, your job is to build your own brand.

all this "behind the scenes" talk has all just boiled down to miscommunication or personal grievances. like geez, genuinely broaden your perspective and get a life. i promise everyone has had drama with someone else, but most people move past the middle school drama phase except for these content creators who have main character syndrome apparently. as audiences who will never know them in real life, what makes them think i would care about their personal drama? like even if one of my FRIENDS came up to me and was like "your friend joe hit up my gf when we broke up, you need to drop them" i would be like uhh that sucks but what does that have to do with me??? and they expect us to care when we don't even know them???

it's like the equivalent of making a instagram post broadcasting your beef with someone. like that sounds ridiculous because IT IS.

#rant #discourse #i'm sorry if your name is joe i really dragged your name through the mud

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covetyou · 1 year ago

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o, christmas tree

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo & gn!reader rating: M (18+ only blog!) warnings: sex toys (so many butt plugs), Dieter being a menace to his PA, no smut, pure silliness. word count: 1.2k summary: As PA to Dieter Bravo, you were used to the strange, unusual and downright weird. What you weren't used to was taking in a shipment of - what? And how many?

A/N: I've had christmas trees/butt plugs on the brain since submitting prompts for secret santas, so I stole this one back (@missredherring I literally couldn't resist, sorry). I wrote most of this while walking my dog on Wednesday, mostly while she itched her ass on the pavement.

This is the last Dieter of me for this year, I sweeeear. Pinky promise.

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Being personal assistant to Dieter Bravo certainly had its moments. And this was one of them, as you sign for a delivery at his home of several large boxes that had clinked when the courier had brought them inside and placed them on the ground.

With a polite smile, the courier doesn't meet your eyes as hurries back out the door and into his truck, leaving you alone with the delivery slip wondering what the hell Dieter has purchased now. You cast your eyes down the paper, the company name entirely unfamiliar to you as you reach the boxes contents.

"Three hundred assorted... Dee!"

It has got to be a mistake, you think. He was unpredictable, but there was no reason for him to do something as ridiculous as this. You couldn't even imagine, didn't even want to begin to imagine, what he would do with three hundred -

Thunderous footsteps slam down the stairs, and Dieter is swinging around the last post to greet you. His hair is a mess, when isn't it, and his clothes are slung loosely around his body. You'd seen the tabloids and magazines before you started working for him, and how they often liked to call Dieter a chaotic and unprofessional, but you had to admire his dedication to loungewear and comfort chic. If you could get away with it you'd wear pyjamas all day too.

"What have I done now. You only shout like that when I've done something."

Thrusting the delivery slip into his hands you put your hands on your hips and wait, watching as his eyes quickly scan down the page and a wicked smile pulls across his face.

"Oh, amazing, they're here just in time."

"Dee, you cannot be serious." You found yourself asking him this question often, and yet he almost always was deadly, painfully serious. The look on his face tells you as much.

"Really? Three hundred assorted butt plugs? Assorted, Dee. What does that even mean."

He gives you a look that tells you you should, somehow, absolutely know what it means. When you don't respond, he sighs dramatically.

"Y'know, assorted sizes, colors, materials."

He's still not getting it, or maybe you're not getting it. You've got to be sick, you're having some fever dream inspired by the sex toys he liked to leave all around the place.

"But what are they for?"

"The party. Duh."

You told him a party would be a good idea to celebrate the end of a great year, and at first he'd reluctantly agreed. It had surprised you when his party planning picked up with gusto, and he refused your offers of help saying he had it all under control. You knew you should've been more suspicious. It was always a good idea to be more suspcisious where Dieter was concerned.

You rub your temples. Three hundred assorted butt plugs. For a Christmas party. You'd seen the guest list, some A-listers were invited, along with Dieter's co-stars from the last year and his usual crowd. Even so, it wasn't enough to warrant three hundred of anything - the guest list spanned 100 people at most.

The harsh rip of tape pulls you from your mental gymnastics, and you watch Dieter crack open the first box. The boxes had been heavy, and they'd rattled in way that, now you think about it, screamed assorted. Dieter pulls the first butt plug from the box, holding it to the light and letting the glass gleam.

"Dieter. What do you need butt plugs for, it's a Christmas party."

He shrugs his shoulders. "Decoration. Party favors. Whatever."

When you blink your eyes at him he rolls his at you.

"Figured they look like little Christmas trees, look." He places the plug on the flat of his hand and, you've got to give it to him, he's not wrong. The one he's currently holding is a deep red glass, so it's festive too, but from a glance to the box you can see just about every color thinkable. Assorted is making more and more sense.

He hands the plug to you so he can rummage through the box some more, and you hold it as if it's about to detonate in your hand. You know it's not used (yet), and by god if you hadn't held some questionable things of Dieter's in the past, but it's too early to be dealing with any of this. You just want a coffee and a sit down, and maybe some tylenol now that you were seemingly getting a headache and a pain in your ass all at once.

"What color?" he says over his shoulder, his hands still plunged into the first box.

"What color?"

"Yeah," he says, standing, holding two plugs in each hand. "Which do you think is my color?"

"Dee, I am not picking out a butt plug for you."

"Oh, come on," he whines, stomping his foot a little. "I know you like -"

"No."

He yanks the first plug from your hands, the red one, and thrusts a swirly pink one into your palm. "Fine. Here."

The question is on your lips, but before you can get it out he smirks at you.

"Pink is your color."

Your pants rip in front of him one time, and he's forever bringing up the color of your underwear. He bought you pink copies of your favorite shoes for your birthday, sent pink flowers to your apartment for eight weeks whilst he was away on a shoot without you, kept ruby chocolate in the house to snack on when you'd walk by. The man was a menace, and even though you both knew you found it funny, you keep your face steely as you brandish the pink plug at him.

"You won't be encouraging people to use these at the party, will you, Dee?"

He picks up the first box, groaning as he bends but then chuckling as the glass jingles and tinkles together lightly in the box, and walks down the hall without answering your question.

"Dieter."

You can see the devilish grin on his face from here. The asshole is ignoring you. You follow him down the hall.

"You won't be encouraging people to use them at the Christmas party, will you?"

"I think blue might be my color."

"Dee, stop ignoring me!"

He sets the box down on the kitchen island, rubbing his hands together in glee.

"Tell me you won't be encouraging people to use butt plugs at your party."

He still doesn't answer, and instead strides past you to the door, he grabs another box before lugging it down the hall to dump it next to the first.

"Dieter."

Tearing open the next box, he lets out a very pleased chuckle as he pulls out a considerably larger plug and sets it down on the countertop with a clink. It did look remarkably like a Christmas tree.

"Please."

He taps you on the nose as he fetches the last box and you cast your eyes down with a sigh, turning the pink plug around in your hands in defeat.

And then it catches your eye, a light engraving on the flat base of the plug. Flipping it, you look for a moment before your eyes adjust and register what's written on the bottom.

In beautiful looping cursive are the initials D.B.

Three hundred assorted and monogrammed butt plugs.

"God fucking damn it, Dieter."

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legitalicat · 1 year ago

Text

Out of Time

Chapter 2 - "Through the Gardens"

AN: Thank you all so much for the love on chapter 1! It truly was unexpected but I'm so grateful. I hope as the story continues, the love for it does as well! This dedication has been removed.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: From her room, through the gardens, to the Dragon Pit, their route was always the same. Aemond and Y/N walked that path so much when they were younger it was a wonderful there wasn't a permanent foot path burnt into the earth. Between two dragons, everything burns with a deep intensity.

TW: mentions of being forcefully drugged/intoxicated, talks of injury, near palpable grief, reader is AFAB, romantic/sexual tension, first person POV, Aemond giving Ser Erryk the biggest crisis of his life for approximately five seconds

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, talks of Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon!Reader, ghost of a thought of Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8 k

The Grand Maester and his younger assistant both seemed relieved with what they found. They said my ribs were cracked but were mostly healed at this point. My lip would heal in a few days. There was no evidence of my captors violating me, which caused mother to let out a sigh of relief. I had at one point had a broken wrist but it had been long since healed. The rest of the bruises and any cuts were superficial, the more extreme wounds now being pink scars.

“And her memory?” she asked the men.

“It is highly possible she was kept drunk or under some form of intoxication these last years. If that is the case, she may regain memories but I do not feel comfortable guaranteeing such a thing,” the Grand Maester said to her. I appreciated his honesty as I imagined sitting in his seat, telling the Queen the opposite of what she would want to hear.

When she dismissed them, we sat in front of my fireplace together. There were so many things I wanted to convey, but my brain couldn’t form the words. There was nothing adequate I could say or do to ease her mind, so I just sat with her in silence and watched the flames dance.

The flames seemed redder than normal with a slight shimmer to them. It was something I was certain I had never seen before but the shimmer mesmerized me. In my mind I could see it, having captured the flames in a small vial. There was a glow to the vial as the red shimmery substance flowed along every part of the glass. I imagined it tasting smoky but comfortable and pleasant, leaving me feeling warm as I drift to sleep.

I couldn’t tell you where these thoughts were coming from. All I knew is it felt simultaneously too real to just be my imagination and too ridiculous to be real.

“I think grandsire’s crown suits you,” I commented, smiling over at her. She had been so concerned over her place for years that actually seeing her with the golden crown resting on her head granted me a happiness I had never expected.

She smiled back at me. “It weighs heavily on my head at times,” she told me honestly. “Yet I am grateful it came as it was supposed to.”

Mother didn’t have to explain to me further what she meant. Though I had doubted Aegon’s desire to take the Throne, Otto Hightower was a conniving man. It would’ve been far too easy for him to succeed if Alicent hadn’t put a stop to his plans. I imagine he had planned for Aegon to wear the Conqueror’s Crown, to make people think he was more deserving.

Imagining Aegon adorning the Conqueror’s Crown caused my cheeks to heat up. He was very handsome and always had been. When I was little, I thought Aegon hung the moon and stars, and I followed him around like a lovesick puppy dog. Before I had more of an understanding of what Jace and I were, before Aemond made it clear how he wanted me, I thought Aegon was my future. In fact, he almost was.

I distinctly remember my mother approaching me before she had Joffrey. Jace and I were only seven and were becoming increasingly aware of our place in the world. One of us would be heir once she took the Throne, a decision she allowed us to make. She told me she wanted to suggest a marriage between Aegon and I if I were okay with it, which even at seven I knew would be best for our family. It was a no brainer for me. Even so, it did not come to fruition as Alicent adamantly refused.

“I think I shall go see Vhaela,” I told her, standing slowly. As long as I moved slowly, my ribs did not hurt so much.

“I have assigned Ser Erryk to watch over you, he shall accompany you,” she told me, standing herself.

Just as I was about to protest, I bit my lip and held my tongue when I saw her face. Fear could be seen on her every feature. I wondered if she now felt uneasy as I would be out of her sight for the first time all afternoon. Could she be worried I would disappear again?

“Okay, mama,” I said with a small smile. I hugged her as tightly as I could, wishing I could fix all the holes in her heart my disappearance caused.

After a moment, I pulled away and gave her a small smile before leaving my room. I nodded to Ser Erryk in a greeting as I shut the door behind me.

“Good afternoon, princess,” he said as he smiled. “Where would you like to go?”

I was about to tell him my desired destination when a voice called out to me. I turned to see Aemond quickly approaching which caused my heart to rapidly beat.

He was as perfect as he had always been. His silver hair went to his mid back just as it had for years. He wore a black leather doublet with long sleeves and matching pants with black boots. He wore his eye patch over his left eye, despite how much I had always wished he would allow himself to wander free without it. He looked simple and elegant without being boring.

“Princess,” he said as he slowed to a stop in front of me.

“Prince Aemond,” I said to him, giving him a slight nod of my head. Desperately I tried to steady my heart and slow my mind.

Jace never made me so nervous. I knew him the way one knows their favorite book. Every thought, feeling, or action could be anticipated. With Aemond, I never actually had any idea of what he could possibly be thinking. He kept his feelings and thoughts close to him, not wanting anyone to know him ever.

In fact, it wasn’t until he kissed me the first time that I ever understood his words of marrying me were rooted in feelings for me. I could remember it as clear as though it happened mere hours ago. The way I was sitting in the window of the library, reading the personal journals of Rhaenys Targaryen, when he approached me with a singular red tulip in hand. The way he looked at me as he presented it, telling me it was the only flower worthy of my beauty. What I remembered most was the way his lips felt on mine, the way it made the world go quiet if only for a moment and caused my pulse to somehow quicken yet disappear all at once.

He smiled brightly at me. It was unusual for him to smile but it was a sight that always made my heart try to beat out of my chest. It was something he had always saved only for me. When we were children, when Aegon, Jace, and Luke separated themselves from us because we did not yet have dragons, he gave me sanctuary. He made me feel better than anyone else could.

“Did you find comfort in your bath, byka zaldrīzes?” he asked me, taking my hand in his and pressing it to his lips.

“I did, issa mīsio,” I told him trying to hide my smile.

My protector. It is what I have called him for as long as I could remember. He earned the nickname when I was four and he removed a spider from my room. Luke had alwayss believed that it was something I should’ve reserved only for Jace. Yet he never understood that while Jace would fight for me, Aemond would kill for me.

“Leave us,” he instructed Ser Erryk.

“But the Queen-“ my guard said quickly. He was rather panicked at the idea of leaving me against my mother’s wishes.

“Should understand there is nobody better suited to keep the Princess safe than I am,” Aemond said firmly.

The demanding tone to his voice left no room for further debate. He had always made sure that those around us knew that everyone in the world was insignificant when compared to him in regards to keeping me safe. It didn’t matter if it was his mother, the guards, or even the Gods themselves. He would strike down anyone or anything that dared to threaten me.

I could see that there was an internal debate in his head. Which should he fear more, his Queen or Aemond? Aemond acted more frequently out of anger than Mother did.

“Mother has always trusted that Aemond is a capable swordsman and knows I am safe in his company. If anything is said I will speak to her. Thank you, Ser, for your dedication,” I told him, smiling at him. He nodded quietly and walked away, knowing I would take all responsibility and feeling ease from that.

Aemond offered his arm to me. I linked mine in his without a second thought. The year I spent here before my disappearance, this is how we walked anywhere. Arm in arm, like we were a singular entity. He would escort me everywhere, never once being late and always ready for some form of contact. I would be with him every moment I wasn’t with my grandsire.

Many ladies in the court once asked me how long it would be until we were married. I assured them that there was no possibility in that happening, but they were convinced. They said that not even their own husbands doted on them the way Aemond would dote on me. But they were always so ridiculous sounding I never gave them any mind.

We had always considered ourselves just children in a game. We were better, smarter, more talented than other players. Never did something so trivial as the gossip at courts ever stop us. But now I wonder if maybe we should’ve stopped.

“You look beautiful in that color, Y/N,” he told me as we began walking towards the gardens. This was our route every time. From my chambers, through the gardens, past the training yard, then to the Dragon Pit.

“Why am I the only one you speak to with such affection?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow. I tried to ignore the people we passed by who stopped to stare at me.

“Yet you do not respond with even half as much,” he said to me as he pulled me closer into his side. He seemed to also be aware of everyone staring.

“What is the purpose of this, Aem?” I asked him. “No longer are we children playing a game. We cannot continue as though we are only friends.”

“But we are friends,” he pointed out as we stepped out into the gardens where nobody seemed to exist.

This was one place in the Red Keep I always felt I belonged. Surrounded by flowers of brilliant blues, reds, pinks, and yellows dotting the otherwise green landscape here. The pink peonies were always very beloved by Alicent. The yellow hydrangeas were Mother’s favorite. Helaena always preferred looking for the bugs that inhabited the ground, so much so I had once destroyed the stores of garden soil they used to kill the bugs. They stopped using it when they realized It was me.

“You are in love with me,” I reminded him. Aemond chuckled at my words as he picked a purple hyacinth and put it in my hair beside the flower Mother had stuck there earlier.

“And if I remember correctly, our last night together was spent with you telling me the names of our no less than four children and all of their dragons,” he said with a smirk.

He spoke as though it were the simplest thing in the world. As though he and I were able to marry for love rather than duty. His words ignored the fact I was to marry Jace and become his queen, that my place in this world was to support my twin. It had been decided a long time ago.

“We were fooling ourselves thinking we could ever be together,” I whispered as I stopped walking. Though the knot in my throat that formed as I spoke those words made my voice sound weak and unsure.

“You are fooling yourself if you truly believe that you love Jacaerys enough to toss aside what you and I share.”

I let out a huff of annoyance. He was always so sure that he was right. He spoke so absolutely that almost anyone would believe him.

“And you think I love you enough to toss aside my duty?” I asked him.

There wasn’t enough time for me to process what he did before I was in the position. A look to make sure we were truly alone and then I was pulled into an alcove we had discovered long ago, hidden behind bushes that nobody ever looked twice at. It was small and dark, but always held room for the two of us.

“You scream my name in our nights together. You tell me over and over how you love me as you cum around me. You begged for us to go away, find someone to marry us in Valyrian tradition before you could be forced to marry him,” he whispered in my ear. “You cannot act as though you do not love me enough. Time has changed many things, but I can assure you that our love for one another is not one of them.”

“Aemond,” I whispered cautiously when he ran his fingers over the low neckline of my dress. “That was all before I was betrothed formally.”

“I wish for you to be my wife. Do not expect me to give up on that so easily,” he told me.

My heart was pounding so hard against my chest I was sure he could hear it. Maybe my mother had a point. Time had been so cruel, ripping me away from everyone I knew and loved. Maybe I should allow myself some time to play the game the way I wish to.

And Aemond was electrifying in all of the right ways. He was irresistibly handsome, almost intoxicatingly so. There was something about him that assured every bone in my body that no harm would come to me as long as I was with him.

Further than that, I loved him. Put aside the promise of safety that he had always provided and I still loved him. I had known it when he would stay with me all night as I prayed to every god in the world that my egg would finally hatch. I had known it when he pulled me out of bed to come with him the night he claimed Vhagar because I was the only one he wanted to share the moment with. When he lost his eye during the resulting fight with my brothers and cousins, I had cried for the rest of the night because I had failed to protect him the way he always protected me. And when grandsire sent for me to join him at the Red Keep, I jumped at the opportunity simply because I would be with Aemond. I loved Aemond with my entire being.

“I am still betrothed to Jace. Your desire to marry me does not change that,” I whispered even though it broke my heart.

“You can! You think I don’t remember that your mother has always given you a choice? That you got to choose whether she named you heir or Jacaerys? You have a choice, more than anyone else ever has,” he all but shouted.

There was not a doubt in my mind that he would back off if I told him I did not want him. If I made it clear that my reasons for denying him were more about how I felt rather than about duty, he wouldn’t question it for a second. My wants and desires were placed above his in regards to us. It was one of the many ways I was certain he loved me.

While I couldn’t lie to him that I did not want him, I also couldn’t decide anything without speaking to Jace. He deserved that.

“I will speak to Jace. Only after will I decide anything,” I said.

Only after several moments of silence did my words have any sway in him. It seemed that promise was enough for him as he pressed a small kiss to my forehead before exiting the alcove, gesturing me to follow. And while it may have been a better idea to leave his company, there wasn’t anything I could do to avoid taking his arm in mine and walking with him.

#dividers by benkeibear #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #out of time

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