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sebastianswallows · 1 year

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It's not like any other love | S.S. | Part 1

— PAIRING: dark!Sebastian Sallow x F!MC

— SYNOPSIS: In order to cast an unforgivable curse, you have to mean it. So how does Sebastian make himself want to hurt the girl he’s been harbouring a huge crush on?

— WARNINGS: angst, jealousy, unrequited love (or is it?), hurt/comfort, abstractly violent imagery, suggestive wand-work, and just an unfun time in the catacombs with Sebby and Omi and the MC that’s caught between them.

— WORDCOUNT: 1.3k

— A/N: Not beta read (except by remus-levioso 🙏 tysm) or existing with any sense or purpose. I just wanted to write something for this little troublemaker and I couldn’t stop thinking about how Sebby could hurt MC when he only seems to have positive feelings about her. I started to think about how he could hype himself up to wanting to hurt her, and just went down a rabbit hole of angst. Spoilers for the game, obvi. I hope you enjoy this, my lovelies 💞

“It won’t work unless you really mean it,” said Ominis, or something along those lines… Sebastian was already a wreck of fidgeting and frets as he stood in front of that door of marbled horror, watching from the corner of his eye while his new friend tried to get Ominis to cast the unforgivable. He didn’t want to think that they were doomed to die here, even with Noctua Gaunt’s skeleton beside him — he couldn’t accept it. Sebastian would batter his head against this problem, like he had done with every other one before it, and prevail.

He tapped his foot on the floor and slid a glance to Ominis again. As expected, he was shaking his head “no” and physically distancing himself from the new fifth year. Coward, Sebastian thought before he could stop himself — because it wasn’t fair, he reasoned, to hold it against Ominis after what he’d been through with his family. He promised himself he’d understand his friend, would sympathise, would listen… But what a coward.

“Ominis won’t cast it,” said the girl once she was by his side again. “What do we do now?”

And that’s how it started.

Sebastian was soon placed in the uncomfortable position of having to give free rein to those parts of himself he had, especially as of late, try to restrain. He was striving to be softer, gentler, more understanding — for Anne’s sake if not his own, and Ominis seemed to appreciate it too, and it wouldn’t do to scare off their new friend either. How sad, then, that casting the curse meant that Sebastian had to dig up all those freshly buried feelings that caused him so much regret — and all of them about the girl before him.

He prepared to cast the curse. In his mind, with one quick force of will, memories of recent days were summoned to the surface.

First, he brought up that spark of envy from when she first defeated him, at the duel in Professor Hecat’s class — the twinge of shame as well, because he liked it, because he wasn’t even mad that she had bested him, because she was genuinely better. Better than him? Hatred, jealousy, resentment.

Second, their meeting in the Charms class — which didn’t happen because she sat next to a Gryffindor and why? Why? Did she think him not good enough to sit with?! He’d joked to Ominis about casting Accio on people, certain that his blind friend wouldn’t know who he was looking at, but from Ominis’ suggestive retort — “Well, you’d be using it on clothing to be precise, Sebastian.” — he couldn’t be too sure of that. And how cruel of Ominis, if he said it on purpose, to make him think of summoning the clothes off her, pulling her toward him, landing her naked and helpless, in his arms… Resentment, longing, complete and utter despair.

Third, the Library. After he offered to show her the forbidden section, after he waited for her by the stairs for hours like a lovestruck puppy, after he protected her and took detention for her… all she had to say was “thanks”? He’d never felt so stupid as when he realised he expected far too much for far too little — because the only thing he really had to offer to her was himself, his knowledge, his skills, his sacrifice. Was he just not chivalrous enough? Was he not impressive enough? Was he just not… enough, at all? Despair, shame, crippling self-pity.

But she was enough for him — or so it seemed to his stupid smitten head, his roiling heart, his swirling dreams at night like so many teasing mermaids tucked behind their algae in the lake, like her in her forbidden bedroom up the stairs that slid beneath his feet — after just a couple of duels and a nighttime escapade among his favourite books and a trip to Hogsmeade to the flutter of lacewing flies (and the thumping of trolls). Sebastian couldn’t remember the last time he was so smitten so quickly and he wasn’t even sorry, he gladly shared every secret with her one by one just to see the sparkle in her eyes and would go into the deepest dungeon with her just to show off and he caught himself saying the stupidest most barefaced lies just to see her smile.

But no, she was impressed with Ominis, and his ability to talk to snakes, his sad past, his Undercrof… What a fool. Ominis wouldn’t be the least bit interested, he was too caught up in himself, too distant, too troubled — and in his more humane moments, Sebastian felt sorry for him, which perfectly counterbalanced the moments when he wished he’d been born in Ominis’ stead and had parents that taught him forbidden spells and told him all the time about his great lineage descending straight from Salazar himself. Oh. Of course she’d like Ominis better. Ominis, tragic and handsome and kind, who knew all the darkest curses and a catalogue of hexes and worse, who would rather die than hurt her. Well, Sebastian could do better than that, at least — he’d hurt her eagerly.

She wanted to learn the curse, she said. So he taught her. He showed her the motion, took her cold and clammy hand in his and guided her wand from behind, whispered the curse in her ear until he was satisfied she did it right —

“You need to say it as your wand descends.”

“Now?”

“No, start from higher. Like this, arm bent… Toward me. Closer.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Like cutting through flesh. Strong, forward motion.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that. Perfect, you’re perfect. I love teaching you curses, you’re so good… so good at it. Now, say it as I told you to.”

— and then, once she was ready, Sebastian took his place before her.

For once, Sebastian forgot how he felt about himself, and focused his emotions — mixed and myriad and primal — on her. It was, unsurprisingly, very easy. With the warm and soapy scent from behind her little ear and the tickle of her hair against his lips still fresh, he said it. The curse was tinged with his resentment for her, his jealousy of her, his yearning and hatred and want.

The flash of red moved in such a way as to cleave her open, as if he could, with a bolt of light, break her apart and peel her ribs away one at a time until he could get right to her heart, cup it in his hands, and steal it away.

What a piercing cry she gave, high and frail and consummately feminine. From the side of his senses, Sebastian could tell even Ominis was shaking, there in his corner where he cowered from the act. He could hardly blame his friend, it made his skin shiver too to get her to sound like that, to bring her to her knees, to make her moan and tremble with the aftershocks of pain. He’d admired her before, but now he just desired her — she’d never looked softer, more mortal, more fleeting, her skin drained of all colour as blood rushed away to escape the pain, her bones looking delightfully breakable, her chest heaving with sinking breaths that choked her and strangled her from within and left her dizzy. Sebastian was by her side as soon as the curse was over, equal parts fascinated and contrite, hands burning with the desire to just hold her.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Part of him hoped more than anything that she was, that she forgave him, that she understood he had to do it. But another part wanted to see her scarred and ruined and at his mercy, his to nurture back to health, his to sustain, his to hold.

She got up before he even got to touch her, his hand left hovering in the air just above where she shoulder had been, and beside them the door of muted screams melted away, revealing the Scriptorium.

#Sebastian Sallow #Hogwarts Legacy #Sebastian Sallow imagine #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #Ominis Gaunt #Sebastian Sallow fanfiction #Ominis Gaunt fanfiction #I just love dark!Seb and the idea that he's jealous of Ominis I don't know I'm a sucker for this sort of thing and I'm not sorry #fanfic;any other love #sswallow;made a thing #sswallow;fanfics

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soraviie · 1 year

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you assume it's unrequited.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: largely angst, some fluff; reader has a crush but thinks that it's one-sided — it's not

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ read the continuation in "pining for you.txt"

━ leave behind a comment or I'll stab you with chopsticks

NAMJOON | The routine itself is quite simple. The rules to be observed are only five — it leaves enough leeway to mold oneself should problematic situations arise.

Rule no. 5: don't accept any gifts.

It's the fact of nature really — humans love gifts. Like corvids, people adored their shiny little trinkets and it is a well-known fact that giving someone something makes them feel special. Adored. But since you couldn't be either of those things, it helped to cut any straying thoughts right in the bud. Hence when he offers to get a cup of coffee from the aggravatingly chique brewery across the street you decline and make a quick stage left.

Which conveniently segways to rule no. 4.

Rule no. 4: no lingering around.

The job is thankful in that way — there's always something to do. Whenever you see his silhouette from the corner of the eye which is not exactly hard — he is big — you flee to safety. If he somehow manages to round the exact same hallway you're in and tosses a hand into the air in lieu of a greeting whilst handing out one of those unfairly charming, dimpled smiles, you follow the rule and as such return a simple nod of recognition, hastily heading the other way.

Should he enter the same room, you're quick to grab anything near and dig deep into a dark corner where inevitably you grow invisible. It's a big company — there's always spaces to hide and you're just another nobody.

Safe to say you never pass him messages or even go near his studio. That can be left to your colleagues who are far more enthusiastic about doing that sort of thing.

Rule no. 3: no conversations.

That is...easy. You think.

"Hi!"

You lifted your head from where your hands were trembling around the paper forms. You regarded him with a blank stare, surprised that not only he'd chosen to talk to you out of all the dozens of people buzzing around the room but also that he was gracious about your lack of friendly disposition.

"Hello," you rasped back, becoming acutely aware of the way everyone is staring.

"You must be new," he remarked, casually plopping down to, for some inexplicable reason, sit next to you, breathing a deep sigh of content. For a second his thigh grazed yours — you shirked away.

"S'pose."

There was a steady pause of silence in which you both just...were.

"You have to write-"

"I know what I have to do."

The finger that previously so helpfully was pointing out at the blank space in the registration form froze mid air. You darted your gaze far away from his unsure, inquisitive stare, tightening your grip around the thin and otherwise helpless paper.

"I'm sorry. What I mean is...I've worked here for three years now — it's just been remote. So I know what to do I'm just..." you laid a palm on your chest — where the bubble was. The bubble that makes it hard to breathe and pressed down on your ribs with such terrible strength your vision grew hazy.

"I think I'm having a panic attack."

Yeah, it was easy to not have a conversation with him afterwards. He must be just as embarrassed as you — what with catching you as you collapsed on the floor just seconds after the first greeting.

Rule no. 2: no touching.

For the most part it's easy to observe. You don't want to be in the same room with him, let alone touch him but sometimes he's just so friendly. If once upon a blue moon you have the misfortune of being stuck with him, you've taken note of how often he reaches to pat you on the back, attempts to carry your things, accidentally bumps into you on those short walks between one location to the next. However, by now you're a professional and you evade all of those damning times of contact with mannered ease.

It is only rule no. 1 that gives you trouble. It's difficult to not think about Kim Namjoon. Not only because his face is splattered across half the world's billboards but because it is Kim Namjoon and oftentimes after long hours of dutifully observing all the other rules, you lay vapidly on the bed and break the one that mattered the most. Too much you think about him and too much time is given to dreams that would never, ever come true.

"Hey, _____________."

You jolt at the sound of another's voice, especially since the room should be empty. As you uncrane your neck from the cramped position by the router on the floor, you find Kim Namjoon poking his somewhat unkempt head through the door. And Kim Namjoon finds himself standing yet again in front of you , breaking all the rules he put between him and the danger that is you. He has no viable reason for asking everyone your whereabouts and then coming here where he confirmed you'd be. There's no merit in him checking the status of HYBE's malfunctioning router but very selfishly he clings even to this most pathetic excuse — if only to take a glimpse at you.

"Hello," diplomatically, you bid back. "The uh...cable is broken."

As a means of an evidence that no one asked for, you wave the plastic around.

"I'll go ask Haejun. She has a shit-ton of spares.''

"We can—" but before he could even reach out to grab onto you, to make you linger around just a little bit longer for the sake of his horrid selfishness, the doors are already closing behind you.

"—go together..." Namjoon lets the sentence finish in the dissatisfied silence fallen over the room.

YOONGI | It should be societally acceptable for one, on occasion, to smash their fucking head against the fucking wall. Though you've turned away from him by now, in such as fast motion there's a definite possibility of your spinal disk rupturing, the disgusting act has been caught and observed. He's caught you looking. Leering. He must be repulsed. You put back the money you've been counting for the last five minutes and with a quiet mutter to a coworker excuse yourself to the back-alley.

"Ah, I don't want to be around that gangster," she cries pathetically, spotting the black haired man at the far end of the counter. Whiskey. Top shelf. A double. The first time you glimpsed him sipping 43% proof alcohol with the ease a child would a juice box, you cursed heavens above — men such as that inevitably acted vile afterwards. Cursing, being loud, groping — it'd just be more headache for you but he was surprisingly different. As if having been aware of the ill suspicion you've been harboring, once he was done, the man brought his glass back, bowed politely and quietly rasped a thank you about your hospitality.

To this day you had no idea whether it was meant genuinely or not.

"He's not a gangster," tiredly, you cut back. Even if he was, he was a polite one. "Just pour him his whiskey when he asks and that's it."

Her lips thin from the nerves as she examines him. His hair is longer now but in her eyes it probably doesn't soften the least bit of his features. In the end, she relents and her harpy like fingers let go of your elbow. Pouting, you rub the sore flesh but quickly leave. You think he's still looking at you, no doubt judging you for slobbering.

"What?" you mutter to yourself grumpily, climbing down the poor lit staircase that led to the reeking trash bins outside. "It's not a crime to have a crush on someone."

Ah, you're a pervert, you groan in your mind, kneeling down the wall. One of these days you'll have to scratch your manager's eyes out in order to get a chair.

You fish out the pack of cigarettes from the apron and in the singular beat between one second and the next, someone speaks right next to you:

"Care to share?"

You scream and almost fling yourself into the trash all while the black haired man looks down upon you.

The first drops of rain begin to fall down on your face and you squint on the automated instinct to protect your eyes.

In his hand he's got a cigarette of his own and you scramble to get the lighter working, cringing at the shooting ache as you press it against your rubbed off skin.

"Here," you outstretch the flame towards him. He hums appreciatively and leans down, briefly putting his much larger palms over yours to stabilize the fire. You hiss in pain.

"Sorry. My hands are rough, I know," he grouses and you shake your head mutely. Jesus fucking Christ on a bike. Even just standing next to him knocks the breath out of your lungs.

"No...it's not that. Your hands are nice," your face scrunches up. "I mean they're fine."

He regards you with a slightly lopsided smirk. You cough and take a drag out of the cigarette.

"These things are not good for health, you know," he shuffles a bit, shoes scuffing against the grey pavement below. They're really shiny and now that you could focus on anything besides his cruelly handsome face, you take in the fact the fact that he was actually wearing a suit. Curious.

"You're smoking as well," defensively, you spit back and sagely, he inclines his head.

"I'm trying to quit. Unsuccessfully. Clearly," he snorts to himself, lips widening into arid, mirthless grin. You think your guts just rearranged themselves. What's happening here, currently, was the smell of the trash leaking into the bins, the cool air blowing a trail of goosebumps up your arm. Your legs are aching, somewhere down your spine there is a yet unidentified pain and both of you smell like smoke and still you've never seen a man so beautiful, despite the grody settings.

"Why you're wearing a suit today?" just at the last second you manage to bite your tongue to not call him sir. For all intents and purposes he's still a costumer. Had your manager heard of you smoking by the trash with one of the most high-paying patrons, she'd drown you in the very bin juice but this doesn't feel...forced. He doesn't feel like a customer and you don't feel like just another person in customer service.

"Are you killing someone?" you tease further, testing the edges and luckily he responds in earnest — dropping his head back and howling a mute laughter into the night.

"No, nothing so dramatic," he chuckles. "I had a...corporate event. Of sorts."

"You don't look like an office drone," you drawl, for the first time actually taking him in. That is, without the leering. As a bartender, over a time a certain kind of knowledge builds. You've seen what the poor wear, what the middle class wears and what the rich wear, and this man was certainly well-off. His suit, though nothing extravagant, is well-fitted and the material is expensive. No one of that stature would ever fit inside a cubicle.

"That's cause I'm not. Say, you don't watch a lot of TV, do you?" even in the piss-poor lighting of the foul alleyway, his eyes glimmer with barely hidden amusement. It plays on the corners of his lips as though he was trying his hardest to not smile.

"No, I don't..." you frown. "Why?"

"Nothing," he shrugs. "I actually like it that way."

"Ah, shit," you drag the last smoke from the cigarette before throwing it away. "Sara always said you were into shady shit. Shame she was right."

"Sara...that's the little girl, right? One whose scared of me?"

"Mmm," you hum in agreement.

"That's good."

As your eyebrows knit together in confusion, he also puts out the cigarette with a side of yet another teasing smirk. By this point, you were growing accustomed to it. Seeing it, however, not be unfazed by it.

"I much more like you. Well," he claps his hands together, the sound falling a bit too loud in the otherwise quiet back alley. "I've got to get going. Will you be working tomorrow?"

"Uh...yeah," dumbly, you respond and the nameless man looks mighty pleased.

"Good. See ya."

He turns to walk away, leaving you alone and befuddled by the backdoor only to lean back as though he suddenly remembered something.

"These are bad for you," his hand snatches the pack of cigarettes shamelessly out of your grasp and only then he deems it fit to make an exit.

JIN | "Look, the love of your life is walking over!"

"Shut the fuck up."

It's 8:30 in the morning and the sun is already scorching. You've gotten off an eight hours flight and somehow you're still hangover. To be less verbose — you're not putting up with any bullshit. And your friend cooing in the ear the second they saw Seokjin climbing out is very much the situation you're far too grumpy to tolerate.

"I'm heading to the forest," you toss over your shoulder, making a hasty beeline to the other part of the shore where the dunes laid quiet and unperturbed. The second you're in their embrace, the tension leaves your body.

By now everyone and their mother knew of the gargantuan and utterly mortifying crush you had on Seokjin. To this day they continued to humor it in the same way they did when you were younger.

"Ahh, look, Jinnie, little ___________ has a crush on you! They even made a card!"

And because you were fourteen and it was a time of great hormones, and you'd still rather kill yourself than ever reveal to older Kim Seokjin outright that you liked him, to everyone's shock, Jin's in particular, you ate the paper card in front of him, growling in between the stiff, glittery bites that obviously you meant a different Seokjin. Seokjin who obviously went to your school even though no one could ever verify his presence.

It's been years and by now you're well out of middle-school but the pathetic squeezing of your heart whenever you saw him, whenever you found yourself in the center of his focus has not yielded. How many years will this continue to drag on? Will he need to be married for this to relent?! With kids?! Dead?!?

With a pitiful groan, you let your forehead hit the dry bark of the nearby tree.

"Ah, fuck."

"Always such a potty mouth."

Anyone else might have taken a glimpse at Jin and pronounced that there was some truth to children's stories where selfless, glamorous princes rode about. While Jin is decidedly not a horse (he could barely even walk as the sand proved to be quite an obstacle), he does look like a prince — carrying a blanket and a small, mysterious bag.

"You get so cold quickly," he half-heartedly scolds, tossing the blanket your way. "Why even come here?"

"You get cold as well," irately, you point out, tugging the fleece around your bare shoulders. Only then you did notice that you were actually freezing.

"I came prepared," carelessly, Jin replies, yanking from some invisible space yet another blanket. "I might be devastatingly handsome but I'm not a bimbo."

"Shame. I happen to like bimbos."

At this point you're just saying shit.

Jin blinks and then with the sincerity of a well-seasoned actor, regards you with a confused stare, face mere millimetres away from yours.

"What do you call a fish wearing a bowtie?"

Nervously, your eyes flit all around his face as you inadvertently swallow from the abrupt proximity.

"I don't know," breathlessly, you answer. "What?"

"Sofishticated!"

Well, good news was that if he kept going like this, your pervading illness will be cured.

"Sofishticated! Get it, because it's like sophisticated..."

You leave him standing there, shouting across the dunes.

"Hey, Ji-Yeong told Cindy to tell Eun-Sook to tell Riri-"

Over the loud roar of the working stove, you attempt to clean your eyes free from the onion and give your friend a good yell.

"GET TO THE POINT!"

"JIN IS LOOKING FOR YOU! HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"

And because you're a brave, self-sufficient person of 21st century you pretend not to hear and whenever you see a glimpse of shoulders too broad to be on anyone else but him, you run and hide.

You know exactly what he wants to talk about and thus you'd rather, much rather, with a smile on your face in fact, chew your fucking toe off. Because as stupid as you were now, you were infinitely more stupid last summer. The summer during which you got so plastered on tequila the night ended with you confusing very much real, warm-blooded sentient Jin for a cutout. A cutout which you clung onto like a mad person and proceeded to reveal that innermost layer of your heart and how much it was devoted to one very annoying millennial.

It took a lot of pasta and drinking to have the confidence to leave your home once the initial stage of wanting to rot into the sofa ebbed away. You weren't necessarily keen on repeating that week thus the running away. But you also think Jin has caught onto the games and is growing increasingly frustrated with them.

Jin wants to see you, Jin is asking for you, Jin is stopping by and so on and on and on. By now his name doesn't even sound like a word. Even so you keep the charades going, praying for the first time in your life that you could go back to work.

The time is a bit over one in the night. For the most part everyone is sleeping which leaves the back garden of the house you rented near the beach quiet and docile. From here you can hear the waves crashing and for now it's enough to create a piece of your paradise.

"Didn't I tell you that you get too cold easily?"

Cold shivers run up your spine and you quickly swallow, whipping around. The expression on Jin's face is less than impressed.

"Well, hence, I'll be going," you gift a fake smile but quickly stop when you hear what you've never ever heard before.

Jin being angry.

"Stay where you are."

He's not by any means shouting, not even raising his voice in the slightest but the tone leaves not a single space for discussion to take place.

"Sit down."

You do and sternly he watches you do so, eyebrows coming together to create a deep frown. You search for any sign of this being a prank or another one of his jokes but you don't find any. Just him standing and being fed up.

"Now, let us have that talk about last summer."

HOSEOK | It doesn't matter if both of you were adults. He was still your student and you were still his teacher. It didn't matter whether he insisted on you or not, you still should have said no and referred Hoseok back to Marina. She was a better English tutor anyhow even if he very much disagreed.

"Mr Jung, please understand, I am quitting. How can I continue to teach you if I'm not even a teacher?"

His knuckles were white around the edge of the table to which he clung to as you leisurely piled your things into boxes. These two years were good, just not good enough to stay.

"Marina is horrible," he complains, the sound falling a bit muffled through the mask but its quality of desperation is not reduced. "Please, you can't just leave! Not with all of the progress we've made!"

A bit of clunky choice of phrasing if you had to say because what progress did you make? Was it the progress of being indifferent, to growing shy around him, to dreaming about him in the middle of all the lonely nights only to then choke on all those fantasies? Because if it was that progress, it would do you some good to leave. Would do you both some good.

"_______________, please, make an exception?" he pleaded, eyes sparkling and you had felt your resolve breaking even then. "For me? Your favourite Hobi?"

With your walls falling apart, you hadn't even noticed how casually he'd referred to you.

"Stop bouncing your knee," Marina growls underneath the nose as she sips on the coffee. Her exam materials are displayed haphazardly on the table before her, littered with large crumbs of her banana and hazelnut croissant.

"I can't help it," you retort just as morose, nervously eyeing the clock pinned to the wall.

12:01 — he should be done by now.

"You're so in love with him," Marina rolled her eyes, striking a bold red line across one student's essay. 4/100. Rough.

"It's my job as a teacher to make sure he passes his tests," you brittle venomously. "If I don't-"

Before you could so much as finish your sentence, a pair of judgmental eyes sit transfixed upon your face in a heated glare.

"You're not a teacher anymore. You quit and tutor him entirely unofficially," Marina interrupts curtly. "So the excuse of it being that is redundant if anything. Moreover, he's a whole ass grown man. He certainly doesn't need someone like you to fret over him."

Just then your phone dings with an unread message causing both of your eyes to fall on top of it.

"Your prince Charming is calling," she states coldly. "Go ahead and pick up."

You don't think you'll ever hang out with Marina after this.

Hoseok 💗 sent you a message.

The heart he'd added himself, chiding you one night for assigning such a cold contact info.

Hoseok 💗: I PASSED! I KNOW IT! I'VE NEVER FELT SO CONFIDENT! 😻💓〇(＞∀��)〇

me: I told you you could do it and you didn't believe in yourself ( ￣＾￣)

Hoseok 💗: hahaha yes o great teacher you've always been so supportive! thank you! ( ♥‿♥)

Then after a moment comes the last message.

Hoseok 💗: thank you, __________________.

As your phone grows dark, you see your own reflection — the giddy smile, the lovesick eyes. The pathetic, eager nature that is you around Hoseok. For a second you let yourself be and let your hand press the phone to your chest as if the meaningless emojis and hearts actually signified anything other than the cursory respect he had for you as his tutor. Then you gather yourself.

If Hoseok will pass his test, he'll be technically viewed as fluent and as such you will be of no use anymore.

You wipe the grin of your face, slip the phone in your pocket and walk back home, pretending that none of this is hurting you.

JIMIN | "Stay still," you scold him, immediately receiving a pout in return.

"I am staying still!" he whines.

Though you roll your eyes, you don't argue anymore and continue to measure his neck. If he wanted to layer his necklaces, you'll have no choice but to measure every chain's length to its absolute nanometer. If they overlayed too much it'd just be a mess and Jimin deserved nothing but the best.

"Now, remember, this is the bag for my jewelry," you remind him sternly, waving the grey pouch just before escorting him to the door. The night is deep. Ever since you wound up having Park Jimin as a regular client your sleep schedule has been wrecked. Thinking about the wording, you cringe, cutting a finger against one of the waywardly left awls on the table. Had your old teacher saw the mess on your workstation, the old crow would probably smack you across the face.

Hissing at the sharp prick, you cradled the hand with a juicy curse on the tongue. Jimin, who'd previously been seconds away from falling asleep (which has happened. Safe to say, having an idol drooling on your couch was awkward, just not as awkward as the morning that followed), yanks his head towards you with laser like focus.

"Show me," he insists, expectantly holding out his palm so that it can join yours. You regard it with a passive stare before taking a step back.

"It's just a cut on a finger," you brush him off, coughing from the abruptly stifled atmosphere gripping your lived-in studio. Jimin appears to be quite displeased. One of the simultaneous advantages and disadvantages of being so close to your models for such an extended time was that by the end of it you knew all of their micro-expressions like the back of your hand. From the tightened way his jaw sat to the coldness in his gaze — he was angry. Jimin was a bit like an April day in that way — always surprising you. Was it good or bad, you did not quite know.

"Here, take this," you outstretched the pouch, sucking a bit on the pricked finger. His eyes seemed to linger there before he averts his gaze, taking the bag with his jewelry.

"You look beautiful in them."

Was it a low blow? Perhaps. But it felt somewhat uneasy, problematic even to let him leave your studio in a huff. With the oncoming release of his album he was already stretched taut. You were half surprised he hadn't yet hit a complete mental breakdown by now. Just following his schedule as a jeweller made your hairs grow grey. Still, as expected the compliment mellows the bout of his sudden attitude.

"Eyyy," he complains, tad cautiously. You weren't after all friends, however, the borders of the proper behaviour became blurred the second he showed up on your doorstep outside both of his company's knowledge or permission. As far as you understood it, he actually sponsored your work out of his own pocket. You could recall that night in fine detail — having a national treasure known as Park Jimin sipping a tea out of cracked cup and asking you to create pieces for him. How he'd came to know of you, he did not reveal and after a while you ceased asking.

"You always do this," he continues, rousing you out of deep though.

"Do what?" innocently, you blink up at him. "I've committed no wrongdoing."

"You always compliment me," he pouts, scuffing the sole of his slipper against the floor. They were in the shape of large fluffy cows. You'd offered him a change but since this pair was given to him on that first meeting, he insisted he'd grown fond of them.

"You know how much I like compliments..."

That you did. Once in a while you let them slip a bit too liberally which is something you'd sincerely need to work on. Having a crush on Park Jimin, unrequited one at that, would anyhow lead to nothing. It was simply futile.

"I can't ever stay mad at you."

"Sorry, for being too charming," you flip a strand of non-existent hair over your shoulder prompting a peel of loud, disbalanced laughter. "Now, this is the bag for my jewelry. Don't mix them up with the one you're supposed to wear for Tiffany which by the way..." you narrow your eyes at him. "Traitor."

Still laughing he pats down your head, eyes crinkling in that expression of pure happiness that you adored to see so much.

"Babyyyy, don't be mad. You're still my favourite one."

Had you not been so irrevocably and disgustingly fond of this man you would have kicked him for making your heart feel like this.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you groused, taking his hand away from your head. "Now go. Good night."

"Can't I crash here?" he pleads, shifting eagerly on the spot. "It's so late at night..."

"And whose fault is that?" you arch an eyebrow pushing at Jimin's back to get him out of your doorstep. "Rich man goes home and sleeps in his rich man bed."

Sensing an easy target in your words, Jimin gleans over his shoulder, his broad smirk proudly on display.

"Does rich man have to be alone?"

"Bye!"

You watched him secretly behind the broken, off white blinds of your kitchen window. The alleyways in this part of the town are narrow, only barely could Jimin's car make way. It's no surprise that no matter what time it is, it attracts the curious glances of your neighbours. The old man at unit 4b across the road was also looking in — the shitty blue tinted light of his crap ass apartment makes his silhouette glaringly apparent in the window. You scowl at him and for a good measure throw up a bird before accompanying Jimin with your eyes. Happily he gets into the car and drives back home where he'll be safe. Now you can rest easy. Somewhat.

"Good night, Jimin," you whisper into the darkness where the only other company you had was the ever-present droning of your old fridge.

TAEHYUNG | Leaning against your hand and watching him speak you think of everything and simultaneously of nothing at all. Though it was not a crime to fall in love with your friend, it very much felt that way sometimes. Times like these when you fantasized how would it feel to hold his hand or to hug him. Not that you didn't know how that felt like. If he could, Taehyung would crawl and make a home in your ribs but he didn't understand. He didn't understand the...spectrum of love you harboured for him. From where he looked onto it the hues were all blue whilst you were far too red.

Red, as you discovered, was not that good of a colour.

"________________? You're not even listening to me, are you?"

Blinking owlishly, you stirred in the seat. The screaming ache in your muscles offers proof to how long you'd been staring at him. Pathetic. You shift your eyes away from the mix of frustration and worry in the browns of his eyes and instead let it sit where's it safe — on the impersonal linoleum cover of the cheap dumpling bistro.

"I was listening," you mumble hazily. "You were...taking Yeontan...for a grooming session, no?"

He sighs.

"Actually I said Jungkook was bitching in my voice mails about having to get a haircut. Are they the same for you?"

You think about it.

"I plead the fifth?"

In spite of it only prompting a thoroughly sassy eye roll from the nominee of 2022 MAMA song of the year, he doesn't much complain, though stuffing his face full of noodles, he does ask. You would rather he didn't.

"What's wrong with you lately? You've been...spaced out."

To feign ease you don't dream of having, you snort.

"Look whose talking."

"Exactly," smartly, he agrees still chewing somewhat aggressively. "If I notice, you know it's bad."

Averting your gaze away once more, you shrug.

"It's nothing serious."

"You sure? 'Cause I was thinking maybe you felt...lonely?"

The so-thin-it's-almost-transparent menu in between your fingers freeze as your heart drops down into your stomach.

"What makes you say that?" lightly, presumably lightly, you wonder.

"Dunno," he shrugs, swallowing a bite so large you can see it travelling down his throat. How he had not yet choked was beyond any science. "It's just you've got no pets, no friends beside me and your place is always quiet so it's safe to say you're absolutely dry in the dating apartment."

Your lips purse in an expression of such pure, unfiltered annoyance that for once it doesn't go above his head. Awkwardly, he coughs, shrinking smaller underneath the gaze of your fury.

"Thank you Taehyung," dryly, you praise him. "That's just what I needed."

"Sorry."

Were you lonely? Probably. Who are you kidding? Naturally.

Exhaling into the black winter air, you watch as the miniature clouds colour white before melting into the night. Did you love Taehyung because you were simply...lonely? Could be. Over the years he was the only one who stayed by your side. Even when you did the most to make him leave, so you wouldn't taint him with your...broken-ness, all too obstinately he'd weathered the storms out. He'd not leave you, that was the end of it. Such he promised and such was the promise he kept, no matter what life or yourself threw at him.

As the gust of biting wind rips through the street, you pitifully tremble in its hold. Shit, why was it always so cold.

"Ah, fuck, my ass is going to freeze off," Taehyung curses, coming to stand beside you just outside of restaurant. He still has a soy sauce in the corner of his lip and without much thinking you wipe it off.

You're both grasping for words.

"My hand is cold," he suddenly complains, swinging on the back of his heels.

"Should have brought gloves then," you retort grumpily. "I certainly don't need you to spend all my hand creams. Again."

He pretends to not see the acussal in your glower.

"I have an idea. Friends help each other out, don't they?"

Suddenly, you find yourself not liking the happy turn of his cheek. That smile paired with that particular glint in his eye always meant trouble. And before you know it, his hand is clasped around yours, the heat of it shooting straight down your entire arm.

"There," happily he chirps, dragging your loudly protesting self down the street. "Now I'm warm and you're not lonely. I see this as an absolute win."

JUNGKOOK | Sure, it was hard to be rendered blind in the middle of a busy street as the sky was dumping down rain with terrible vengeance but you'd still wager a guess it felt better to run head first into a pole than seeing...him.

The light of the billboard pours brightly onto the dark, grey streets below whilst the faceless masses rush to their homes, you included. He stands there, being beautiful, being enticing like a whole dream and mocks you. You can't have him and that's fine but why should you also have the sour memory of his existence be rubbed into the wound.

Droplets of rain steadily fall upon your face though you don't even notice them. Not until you've had your fill of Jungkook.

You hope he's happy somewhere in Seoul.

Coming back home, you set the soaked bags of groceries onto the table, monotonously going through the motions of the day. Many, hell, everyone, would probably say that taking a leave from a high-paying job just to come back home and live an utterly boring life was not the way to go but would they also sympathize with growing depressed about the unrequited love you had for someone who was so far out of the reach, you'd officially have to graduate space flight program in order to ever reach the star that was Jungkook?

No, you don't think so.

Laundry, cooking, laundry, watching TV, laundry. It doesn't offer much reprieve from thoughts about Jeon Jungkook but at least you don't have to look at him and be pathetic. And sure you're miserable but at least somewhat of your dignity is preserved. Even if it's the tiniest, barely existent sliver a man has ever seen.

You don't regret never approaching him. He never went out of his way to say hi, he never so much as glimpsed in your general direction if you were loitering around the room. You remember how hard it was to breathe when the time came to adjust his mic on his chest and you also remember how he'd just sat there, disinterestedly scrolling through his phone. On those rare times you noticed him watching you, there was always a distant gleam in his gaze. He was probably just zoning out and you happened to be there. On those even rarer times that you helped him, he always appeared so unperturbed. He was polite but that was it. Just a polite thank you and long, stretching moments of quiet, that was the only real memory you had of him.

In the end, the whole thing was quite embarrassing and so despite it being abrupt, it felt right to hand in your resignation. He didn't need yet another sick fucker drooling over him....neither did you want to be that person. So why not quit. Why not?

By the time it's evening, you're beyond bored. No TV shows interest you, no movies catch your attention, the span of your focus is too short to read a book and you're too tired to go for a walk. Surely it wouldn't hurt...

When your old computer turns on, it makes itself known. Unlike the sleek, polished versions of HYBE, the surface is so hot it could boil an egg and the sound that comes out of this pre-historic artefact could easily pass off as a roar of a plane. It takes about half an hour for the email to load, so much so that when you come back with a cup of tea, the screen is still suspiciously unresponsive.

Seeing 99+ unanswered messages did not surprise you, what did surprise you was the pile of messages, unanimously sent from one address.

[email protected]

subject: please

The skin on your palms grow wet and you can hardly hear the rain splashing against the window with how hard your heart is beating. Shakily you press to open the email, hardly having the courage to read the words. You've no idea why the subject is named such a way but you're partially sure that somewhere along the way, he's going to call out your affection. How misplaced it is and how much he's disgusted by it. You'd understand if he did.

[email protected]

subject: please

Even if...even if the year we spent together meant nothing to you, that the kindness you extended towards me, that the help you sent my way unknowingly pulling me from a pit of unescapable darkness is nothing but an empty void no more deserving of your attention than the dirt on the side of the road, I beg of you to be gracious once more. Just write to me. Just one letter is all I ask for. No matter what you have to say, should it be something as little as one singular "bye", please, write to me. I'll keep you in my thoughts, forever most likely as you've made your home in them.

Sincerely,

Jeon Jungkook.

tagging: @rmstdio; @pinkcherrybombs; @devilsbooksworld; @btsiguess-kpop; @belladaises; @halesandy; @seok-jinnies; @themochiverse; @cuteipat; @ratherbefangirling; @manchuria; @chimchimmarie; @smalliechelle; @koostarcandy; @flitzerj; @royallyjjk; @dreamamubarak; @anti-social-mochi267; @jung-nika-hoseok; @jminssiii;

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tangerinesgirl · 2 months

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Frank (Abigail) NSFW Alphabet

Rating: 18+, explicit

Notes: this is made with a Fem!Reader in mind, obviously spoilers for Abigail (2024), some mentions of CNC and various other kinks.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare for Frank before being a vampire wasn't really his thing, the most he would do is offer you a drink of water. However, after being turned, he felt more possessive over you and is way more attentive, making sure if he hurt you at all, since he can't really control his new abilities yet.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Frank pre vamp liked his general physique and mind the most, he would work out regularly and always liked being in charge and had to keep his mind sharp and how he could manipulate people. Post vamp he liked the fangs, how they looked on him and how they looked biting you. He couldn't keep them off you, making sure everyone could see who you belonged to.

His favourite body part on you is your neck obviously, but he's also partial to your breasts and ass. As long as they're covered in bite marks.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Frank loves seeing his cum over your chest, and watching you lick it from his fingers. It felt like a power trip to him seeing you helpless and covered in his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Frank, even though always the dom, secretly wants to be pegged. He never ever shows this, but sometimes when you grab his hair and he moans, you kinda knew occasionally he wants to be topped, at least.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Frank is very experienced, he absolutely knows what he is doing and how to make a girl cum, but he would only use sex as a necessity, he would never get attached or think anything more of it. One night stands, only when he needed to. So he was never any good at the affectionate side, it was never really in his nature.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Post vamp Frank will fuck you into next week and wants to try every position, everywhere, he does not care. If he has to pick, it would be doggy, so he could bite your ass occasionally, he also liked how deep he felt inside you this way.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Frank is a very serious person, sex with him is always calculated and rough. You couldn't joke with him, even if he would accidentally do something silly during the teething stages of being a vampire, he would hate you laughing at him and shut you up immediately.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Frank always prides himself on appearance. He has a little bit of hair down there that's well trimmed and aethetically pleasing. His chest has a few specks of hair. He's particularly fond of his V line and his light snail trail, and how you would lick down it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Frank isn't the most intimate or romantic kind, he's purely sexually driven. Sometimes he buys you things from when a job has gone particularly well, or take you out to dinner, sometimes a holiday if he's feeling generous.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Well if you've read this fic of mine, Frank likes it when you masturbate together when you have turned into his puppet as you can both feel each other through his powers and giving you instructions.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Apart from the obvious domination and masochism, he loves to humiliate and objectify you. Anything that gives him power over you. He's also an exhibitionist. Even though he's smart, when he's horny and needs you he doesn't think twice, he just has to have you there and then. Post vamp Frank is also determined to try mirror sex to see if his reflection vanishes (he's seen too many vampire films).

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

You don't really stay at home a lot, Frank likes to get hotel rooms when he's on a job, and wants you there when he's particularly worked up over it to unwind. Post vamp Frank wants to try it in a church, to see if he'll burst into flames or not.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Frank never really shows you PDA himself (apart from hickies/bites), but you do it subtly to him. You like to slide your hands up his thighs under a table, and he goes WILD. It's a sure fire way to get him to fuck your brains out in the public restroom. He also loses his mind when you dress particularly well: whether it's a figure hugging ball gown or a new lingerie set he's bought you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Frank is very possessive over you so isn't a huge fan of the idea of groups/threesomes, but he is pretty sexually open otherwise.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Frank typically is more of a receiver than a giver pre vampirism. Post vampirism, he gives a lot more, he can't help but nibble a little on your thighs on the way. He also loves to give when it's your time of the month for obvious vampire reasons.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with Frank is always rough, he loves to see you come undone under him. He fucks deep, fast and hard, you can feel it for days afterwards.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Frank is a big fan of quickies, especially during a job, it adds to his feeling of being in charge. Quickies are quite a regular occurrence, he tends to be the one to initiate them. When you initiate them, he likes to humiliate you through it, calling you desperate, whore, slut... But you like it and only turns you on more.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Frank is always game to experiment, especially with his new vampire powers, even if you're a bit apprehensive. Even though Frank can be a little scary sometimes, and caught up in the moment, but you have safe words, it's very well planned out, and he always listens.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Frank pre vamp normally just lasts one round once a day, he tends to see sex as an obligatory job rather than a relaxed activity. Occasionally he does more if he really needs it. Post vamp Frank has an insane amount of stamina, he could honestly fuck you an entire day and not get tired. You have to beat him away with a stick sometimes when he fucks you too rough and you need a day to recover.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Frank likes to buy toys for you when he goes away before a job. He likes to ring you to make sure you're using them and how they feel. He likes watching you use them too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Frank is a HUGE asshole for this. He LOVES to tease you, work you up, then deny orgasms from you. He has a way with words that really gets you going. When you tease him in revenge, he hates it, he absolutely MUST be in charge and will show you a lesson.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Frank is VERY vocal, he likes to talk through exactly what he's going to do with you, even in public he likes to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, as well as the occasional derogatory pet names, and a "good girl" on a particularly nice day. He likes seeing how wild his voice drives you. He also moans an awful lot, especially in your ear, when fucking but also when feeding from you, saying how good you taste, which sends you into overdrive. It's honestly his hottest feature in your opinion.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Frank loves seeing you tied up, as well as the occasional CNC where he would kidnap you and have his way with you. Another roleplay favourite of Frank's (and yours too) is being chased in the woods and hiding from him. He likes to smell the blood and the wetness coming from you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Frank is average girth wise, but is slightly longer than most. He likes it when you choke on him from oral, and when he can see the bulge in your stomach when he fucks you against your cervix.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Frank post vamp has an insane sex drive, he loves using his vampirism, especially for sex. Not exactly that he misses you, he more misses the effect he has over you. He is a walking red flag, but the sex is great.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Frank doesn't sleep an awful lot. He never really switches off from work, so he would leave you in peace to go work or do some last minute planning in a different room, and end up falling asleep there.

#fanfic #reader #frank (abigail) x reader #frank x reader #adam barrett #adam barrett x reader #headcanons #alphabet #frank #abigail #frank abigail #movie #abigail 2024

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pocawiii · 5 months

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Baby Smell

Tags : SFW, Fluff

Synopsis : Fyodor is fascinated by the smell his baby, he can't take his eyes off his baby and you.

Art by me, repost only with credit!

"I never had any ideas if baby smell would be so fine. Like, they can make people around them calm." As he said that and slowly caressing his baby with his finger. Fyodor was amazed by the miracle before his eyes, he was even a little doubtful that caressing with his finger would be safe.

A small miracle that arrived in both of your lives, an holy angel without even a speck of blemish. It was something that he wasn't see often, considering how his life was going, only full of revenge, violence, and even the loss of many lives. But this time, he seems helpless in front of a little life that depends on him and you. Thanks for you to protecting this little angel for 9 months also for fighting for the delivery process.

It's been a week since you came home, Fyodor always ready to helping for you and your baby's needs.

"Look, she held my finger. With this tiny palm, blushes in red. So fragile, but her grip really tight." He chuckled.

"Papa here, you'll be fine." he said again, while rubbing the tip of his nose against the tiny hand.

You are still in bedrest, even occasionally your husband will help you to move. Like taking a small walk and sunbathing together with the baby. For your health after giving birth.

Once a time the baby start taste her tongue, looking for something she should consume. But when she didn't find what she was looking for, she took a deep breath and started whining.

"Uh-oh.. someone is about starving again." Fyodor was a little worried when the little baby started whining, then start to cry loudly. You just chuckled.

"Come here." You offered to hold her, holding her gently. Hearing the sound of your heart and your unique scent made her crying slowly subside.

"I only confused right now, between I want to be like you or like our baby." Fyodor chuckled. He cant stand seeing his wife and his baby, he always want to around them.

"Hugging by you is always calming, right? Can I have that too? Should I be crying and then getting hug by you?" Fyodor asked teasingly.

You only hissing to him then started to give the baby your breast milk. She slowly consume it and started to be more calmed. Fyodor only let out a sigh seeing you two. A few moments later, he spoke again. His tone was more serious this time.

"Thank you, milaya. Without you, maybe I wouldn't be able to feel very peaceful in this life."

You smiled and look at him. Then patted his head and start to caressing it slowly.

"So, May I be next after our baby is finished and full?" He still teasing you.

#bungou stray dogs #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #bsd #fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

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I'm trying to catch up on all the genshin sex dolls au and istg this au has got me rolling and screaming and frothing!! I can envision vividly a world where you see these droids being promoted nonstop on tv, trains, electronic signs and even perhaps sample models lined up on the streets/shops for people to interact with before they make their choice!

If it's out already, I apologize profusely, but has there been any news or perhaps, even a release, on a Kazuha line?

tw - implied noncon, implied somnophilia, unhealthy relationships, and obsessive behavior.

i mean, he'd definitely be a more all-terrain model, meant for adventurous, outdoorsy users who might need a little company out on the trails. you're not very athletic, but you do like to hike, and it's nice to know you won't be alone and helpless if you ever get hurt, or lose reception, or god-forbid, manage to get yourself lost, and honestly, it's just nice to have him nearby. Kazuha has such a calming voice, and he knows a little bit about everything, and out of all the companion droids you looked into, his smile was the only one you could genuinely forget belonged to a robot. he's a good guy to have around, even if you could've probably gotten by with a Bennett or a Beidou. you really like him, and you know he was literally built to like you, too.

he really seems to enjoy getting out with you, too. you were never much for camping before you got him, but he just makes it so easy, it's hard not to grin and nod along whenever he comes to you with an optimistic weather report and the tent you hadn't used in years, before he expressed an interest. he calls it romantic, despite how often you remind him that you're really not interested in anything like that, says he likes the quiet, the calming isolation, and yet, he always insists on staying so close to your side, on staying up for a few hours just to 'stand guard' while you sleep. he always dotes on you while you're out together, offering to carry your supplies, checking to see if you're drinking enough, insisting that he be the one to make dinner when you two finally settle down for the night. even when you're at home, he likes to fret over you, ignoring your little protests and complaints in favor of kissing your forehead and encouraging you to drink the bitter, acidic herbal tea he swears by - the tea that puts you to sleep just as quickly as Kazuha says it should.

you'd never complain about him, but it feels like he's always hovering around you sometimes, always ready to lay a hand on your shoulder or talk down to you in that calm, even voice of his. he's not clingy, he's never pried for affection or questioned why you don't want to use him for, well, what most companion droids are used for, but he likes to touch you, to cup your face, to do... to do something after you pass out in his lap that leaves your hips bruised and something aching in the back of your skull. you're sure it's not bad. he's so kind, and so gentle, and he's always taken care of you.

you're sure that, with a smile so human, he'd never do something so monstrous, right?

#genshin sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere kazuha #yandere kaedehara kazuha #kazuha x reader #yandere kazuha x reader

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flightfoot · 4 days

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do you know of lila take down fics that don't bash the children?

Hm, I'm assuming you mean ones that are still focused around Lila being a schoolyard bully? I generally stay away from those nowadays, instead opting to just read the fics where everyone's aged up and she's presented as more of a supervillain (those tend to not bash anyone else), but I do still have some recs for you!

Not Quite Right by @ladynoirfanao3

When Marinette wakes up one morning, she can’t help but feel that something is just a little bit… off. No one else around her seems to feel the same, however, and she is forced to shake off the strange feelings. It proves to be more difficult than she imagined, especially when an akuma attack leaves her feeling helpless as she watches Chat Noir and Ladybug arrive on scene.

---

In Pursuit Of The Uneatable by @nemaliwrites

Who do you trust when your own reflection becomes a stranger? In a Paris where Lila weaves tales that blind the city, Marinette stands accused, isolated. Her parents' trust is shattered, her friends distant, and in battle, illusions blur the line between ally and enemy. As the shadows and uncertainty threaten to close in, Marinette finds herself turning to the last person who claims to be on her side: a boy in a white mask who calls himself a fox hunter.

---

Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

---

Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After some turbulent days that end with five people knowing her secret identity as Ladybug, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep herself hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, and tries to disconnect from heroing altogether. Along the way, she starts to date Kagami. Hard as she tries, though, she can't stop worrying - especially not once Monarch takes a particular, and personal, interest in her. At the same time, Alya tries to adjust to her new role while she works to uncover who Monarch really is, and makes some realisations about her own wishes. Kagami struggles against a controlling and abusive parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement. And in the meantime, Alix keeps popping her head back in with offers to help (because cool though time travel is, she misses hanging out in her own time).

---

Side Effects Include: Empathy by Word_Devourer

Adrien develops touch-based empathy from using a Miraculous as long as he has. This can only go well.

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The Investigation by @11jj11

Adrien and Marinette are finally dating-- which is what Alya has always wanted... but yet this sudden transformation in their relationship overnight? Things aren't adding up. They are suddenly so much closer than they ever have been before, Adrien is apparently a flirt, Marinette is no longer a stuttering mess, and not to mention the nicknames that came out of no where. Alya is happy for her friends, but she knows there's something more going on, and the reporter in her is going to get to the bottom of it.

---

best (fake) smile by Reiaji

After Gabriel arranges for Lila to be his date at Paris Fashion Week, Adrien rights a wrong as best he knows how: with a little bit of sweetness, a little bit of subtlety, and a lot of social media magic.

#ask #ml fanfic recs #miraculous ladybug #lila rossi #lila rossi's lies are exposed

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donnerpartyofone · 1 year

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I saw this post a few weeks ago that was like a chart from a psychology text that described how different sorts of childhood trauma can produce different dysfunctions, one of which was (I *think*) Emotional Neglect -> Magical Thinking. I was so intrigued by that. Magical thinking is sort of an umbrella term for the belief in a causal relationship between two unrelated factors; it can include wishing on a birthday cake candle; the feeling that The Universe is telling you to call your ex because something reminded you of them; OCD-type rituals that you believe will ward off misfortune; the deeper meanings mis-assigned to mundane events that can be produced by schizo-affective disorders; and also religious convictions to some degree, although those are rarely considered a clinical problem as with anything that helps or doesn't seem to hurt the participants. There seem to be as many potential causes of magical thinking as there are forms of the thought pattern itself, and trauma is an interesting one.

It might be better to think of "trauma" as "helplessness" here. Magical thinking can help impose a feeling of organization where there is chaos and loss of any sense of significance. There was a lot of magical thinking going around in the gritty, depressed town where I'm from, and I often thought it was because of the persistent economic pressure. It's relatively normal for kids to be susceptible to spooky ideas, but many of the adults were also full of ghost stories and superstitions. I have one very sensible friend who is smarter than I am, who grew up there too, and we often reflect on this, which helps me know that this isn't strictly an idea I have due to my own social choices. My friend doesn't live in that town anymore either, but she's always digging up interesting stuff related to it, and one day she showed me the website of someone there offering his services as a paranormal investigator. He was in his 20s, and the site included a lot of unconvincing photos and a long, vigorous testimonial by the guy's mom. Part of me was dying to put it on tumblr, but it would only have resulted in unnecessary cruelty. I was as much a victim of magical thinking as anybody, and I think even when I was pretty young I was aware of what motivated me to be so naive and gullible: that a world full of ghosts and vampires and UFOs and such was preferable to what I normally experienced, which was a consistent sense of boredom and meaninglessness and drudgery and embarrassment and pain and suffocation in an ugly, flavorless universe whose nicer side was not going to be available to me. I had a lot of really damaging friendships with manipulative assholes and pathological liars because I was so very willing to believe the crazy things they told me, just in case any of them were true, because such a truth could change my whole life.

Sometimes I think it's amazing that I never wound up in a cult, although I guess those relationships were sort of like little one- or two-person cults. Once in a while I read about some crime involving young people who think they're vampires or something, and I have a deep feeling of pity, because I think I know what they were going through (except for the part where they think they can do whatever they want to other people). The sad story of Shanda Sharer involves a whole group of badly abused and underprivileged teens, some of whom thought they were witches or vampires, and it just makes so much sense to me that they would be overtaken by these fantasies of secret meaning and power. Recently I watched Bad Vegan on Netflix, something that I avoided at first because I thought it was just about rich douchebags humiliating each other--which is like, what else is new--and to some degree it is, but actually it's way more disturbing than that. Ambitious young raw food entrepreneur Sarma Melngailis was manipulated, isolated, and ultimately kidnapped by this sadistic freak who preyed first on her loneliness and financial fears by pretending to be a rich suitor who could solve all of her problems; then he preyed upon her feelings of personal insignificance and failure by convincing her that he and she had been selected by a cabal of extraterrestrial illuminati who would make them immortal. Sarma seemed completely broken down to me, and I was amazed by her courage in describing the scam she fell for, that she must have known would invite derision. Part of the documentary explores her youth as a kid who always believed she could become something special, and then mundane tragedies like her parents' divorce brought her back down to earth in a painful way, and it seemed like she spent the rest of her life haunted by the idea that she might just be an ordinary failure of a person. I think that's part of what made her so vulnerable to this psychopath, that he was able to access her secret dream of having a special destiny. I got one of my friends to watch the show and she was very frustrated by it because she just couldn't figure out what Sarma's problem was that would cause her to ever believe the things she was told. I tried to reiterate what I've said here, but it didn't seem to mean anything. Ironically this friend is a practicing witch with formal beliefs in the supernatural, including that people can awaken special powers within themselves, but I guess one man's magical thinking is just um not another man's magical thinking.

I still have a lot of magical thinking going, but it doesn't have the same character it once did. I tend to think of it more as "symbolic thinking"; I have a hard time accessing senses of meaning and hope, let alone any kind of self-belief, and sometimes symbolic gestures and concepts can provide that access better than my own direct, practical attempts ever could. It helps that I have a basic agnosticism about the invisible structures of the world, like it's easy for me to believe that there is more to life than what comes in through the five senses, even if I don't pretend to know entirely what that "more" is. That may help me believe that "anything is possible" and I shouldn't give up, even if I direly want to and I know I'm being kind of irrational. Magical thinking can be a double-edged sword, but maybe it's better than nothing.

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nuhackearney · 8 months

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Fic: At A Loss

For @romanthereigns and anyone else feeling a little blue over LA's loss tonight. I said I wouldn't go here, but here we are...(aka, LA Knight x Reader)

You get people drinks, you pick up towels, you watch over equipment...yeah, you're pretty much a go-fer, but you adore your job! You get to travel, meet interesting people and you work for one of the most entertaining businesses in the world - the WWE!

Sure, the superstars don't know your name and you're not famous or anything, but you're an important cog in a big machine and you know your worth.

...you also know you have a helpless, stupid, unbelievably bad crush on LA Knight.

...yeah.

You're into him.

Too bad that, just like everyone else in the biz, he'll never notice you. Hell, he doesn't even know you exist.

Or so you think.

You're on hand for Crown Jewel. The energy is high, the activity chaotic. You've never dashed around so much in your life! Water bottle for Sami Zayn here, a boom for a member of camera crew there, and so on and so on.

You manage to catch snippets of different matches, but as a whole it's hard to keep up. Right until the very end. The end where the Bloodline yet again interferes and yet again help Roman score the win.

...which means LA lost.

It's a sobering realization. You were really rooting for him - even aside from your ridiculous one sided crush - you were hoping for someone to finally dethrone the Tribal Chief.

But, yet again, disappointed.

Poor LA, you think, but you know better. He's a big strong guy, he'll bounce back, no skin off his nose. He's the Megastar, everyone says his name and everyone knows it's his game. He'll be fine.

Again, or so you think.

Until, very very late into the evening, as you go to clean up one of the messy break rooms and you come across him. It makes your breath bottle in your throat, the sight of him sitting on one of the cafeteria tables, his head in his hands.

He's fully dressed now - brown leather jacket, 'Yeah' shirt, jeans, and boots. A totally different look from what he wore to the ring tonight. He must hear you come in, because he lifts his head to turn and look at you.

You clear your throat and offer a weak wave, even as you manage a near toneless, "I'll, ah-? Come back later..."

The plan is to stealthily back out, but he sits up straight and gestures to you, "Naw, naw - come on over, y/n."

His voice is loud, but more somber than you've heard it before and he? He said your name? You carefully ease further into the room and walk towards him, your fingers sort of nervously playing with one another as you get closer, "Um? You know my name?"

"Sure. I've seen you at lots of shows. They call your name all the time for shit. Ice packs, sandwiches, hairspray - there anything they don't have you fetch?"

You shake your head because he's not wrong. Again, you know your role. Maybe that's what he needs? Your go-fer skills? And you're about to ask if you can get him something when he asks quietly, "Think you can get me a second shot?"

This makes you seize up, "What do you mean?"

He lets out a huff, "Guess you didn't see me lose out there."

You don't know what to say.

He does, "Oh yeah, a big ol' 'L'. Granted, Roman's boys stuck in their noses again - Solo making a stink at the front, Jimmy in the back, but the end results just the same."

You've never seen him so serious before, so-? Well, melancholy is the first word that comes to mind, and the thought twists your heart into knots. You want to reassure him. Say something cool or clever, but your tongue is numb as he runs one hand over his five o'clock grizzled chin, "I dunno. Maybe I've been fooling myself. Fooling everybody."

"That's not true!" You blurt it out so quickly you almost don't realize you're the one who said it. But then his blue eyes swing to you and it's like a laser slicing you in half, that intense focus of his.

You clear your throat and feel your cheeks heat even as you keep your eyes averted when you talk, "You're-? You're the real deal. I know it. I feel it."

You know he's still looking at you and you feel a little sick and your heart is beating double time but you press on, "Yes, you didn't take the gold this time, but everyone is still behind you. Everybody is still saying your name, chanting for you - you're a superstar, you're a champion!"

"Yeah?" And he asks his normally rowdy catchphrase in a wry, teasing way that only makes the heat in your cheeks worse and god, this is torture. Does he know you have a crush on him?!? Is he possibly teasing you to death?

Being on the business end of one of his BFT's would be kinder...

"Yeah." You cough into one hand so that you can try and subtly rub away some of the heat from your skin, "So, y'know - you'll win. Get the gold you deserve. It's only a matter of time."

"Matter of time, huh?"

You nod and finally risk looking at him. He looks deep in thought and it's almost as if you can read his mind, "I-? I know you have been waiting for a long time already. But... it's going to happen. I promise."

There's a beat of silence between you and then, out of nowhere, he throws back his head and laughs. It's a happy sound and attractive laugh lines appear under his eyes as he reaches out a hand to you and ruffles your hair.

Such a simple and silly action shouldn't be so stimulating, yet here you are, practically melting under it as he rubs warmly and gently at your scalp, "You know what, y/n? You're right. It IS going to happen. YEAH."

The last is said loudly and with his classic jovial tone as he withdraws his hand and he stands up to get down to your level, albeit he still towers over you, "Not only 'cause you promised me, but because I promised myself! I just needed the reminder!"

"Oh!" You offer weakly, breathlessly, "Uh, good! Glad I could help!"

Your next plan is to turn and scurry away because you're sure that's what he wants, because that's what everyone wants after you've helped, but he freezes you with a, "Now wait a minute, you ain't leaving, are ya?"

Your eyes go wide with confusion even as he offers you the kind of saucy grin you've only seen from afar, "'Cause I could still use your help."

"Y-you could?"

"Sure." He eyes you up and down, "I need somebody to go out and eat with me tonight. Need somebody to test my kavorka on. Make sure it's still working."

It is, trust me! Almost pops out of your mouth immediately, but this time you manage to hold the words back, instead giving him a demur, "Alright."

"There we go." He throws one arm around your shoulders and gives you a little squeeze, "Hey, stick with me, kid and I promise you, you'll get what you deserve!"

While you're positive that he thinks you deserve a better job or pay or something along those lines, you honestly hope that you get what you want more than what you deserve.

Hell, you're actually getting what you want right now.

A night out with LA Knight?

YEAH.

#la knight x reader #la knight #wwe la knight #a pick me up!#haven't written a reader insert in a dog's age

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howlsofbloodhounds · 9 days

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So we've already seen the reactions that could be provoked by Killer if Color was kidnapped... But I'm wondering just how bad it could be if Killer had to witness Color die right in front of him, helpless, unable to do anything.

I have no idea if this has been talked about before or not but I'd really like to hear your thoughts!!!

Like imagine if Color had made him a promise once before, saying that he promises that he'll never leave him no matter what happens.

And well, now that the promise is broken... Yeah

TW: talk of death and suicide and suicidal ideation, plus past suicide attempt. Stage 1 view death as freedom and rest, and Stage 2 not caring if he lives or dies so longs as he’s useful. Plus Killer being codependent on Color for purpose.

To be honest, I don’t think Killer would think much of promises. While in Stage 1, he’d have a more emotional connection to the idea of course, but I doubt Stage 2 genuinely cares or connects with such concepts. If it’s an emotionally charged moment, he’d probably make a joke or something a blow of the encounter as nothing much.

If we’re going by my little headcanons about Chara and Killer having a scared pinky swear system, where the other is allowed punished with death should the pinky swear ever be broken, Stage 2 would probably take a pinky swear in this context to mean, “If Color swears to never leave me, pinky swears on it, and then leaves me; then I am allowed to kill him.”

Color’s promise would be “I pinky swear not to leave you,” but Killer’s would be, “If you leave me, I am allowed to kill you.”

And I feel that..that idea would seem off to him, which has never happened before. He does not want to kill Color (and Color tells him that’s important, what Killer wants). So I don’t think Killer would offer him a pinky swear, regardless of the sense of security it’d bring him, but as a result he wouldn’t take Color’s promise that seriously. Death and violence is an inevitable part of life to Killer, but he still grieves them all so much in Stage 1.

(Back when he was with Chara and not out in the real world, he could just write the deaths off as not mattering while in Stage 2. Chara can Reset, they’ll come back, it’s fine. It’s different now that death is more permanent and sure, but still, it’s normal.)

Ultimately, I think Color’s death is going to be one of those things he doesn’t remember clearly. He will probably finds pieces of Color in the mundane aspects of life (the little romantic he is)—he’ll see Color in the flames of candlelight, and Color in the cameras he would’ve loved, and Color in the quotes about hope and change. Color in the warmth of heat and the light of the sun. The vibrant colors of rainbows after a rainy day.

If Killer remains with Nightmare, there’s an extreme possibility that he’ll eventually become unable to tell if any of it ever actually happened while in Stage 1. If Color was real, or just a figment the sputtering ashes of Sans conjured up in a desperate attempt to believe that freedom and hope is possible for something like Killer. Especially if Nightmare or any of the other Gang members reinforce this belief, and either don’t allow or get rid of any signs that Color existed.

He likely won’t trust any attempts of people like Dream or Swap, trying to reach out.

I doubt there’d be any chance of convincing Killer to leave Nightmare in this timeline. Hope and light died with Color, and so did the warmth. Nightmare would probably replace him with another Killer soon, whenever Killer’s determination fades away and leaves him a husk.

This type of Killer realizes that peace was possible in a way that wasn’t just death, but that was taken away. He realized what he was missing, what he was being denied, unlike other Killers who haven’t or won’t meet Color or someone like him. He’ll serve Nightmare until he becomes obsolete.

I’m sure he’ll consider ending himself in Stage 1. He did it after he killed Chara. If he has any responsibilities or people to say goodbye to, such as his cats or Swap or the rest of the Epic and Star Sanses, then I’m sure he’ll do that. With plans to off himself as soon as possible if no one stops him; because Killer doesn’t live for himself. Hasn’t for a long time. He practically begs both Color and Swap to put him out of his misery.

He lives either out of spite and Determination, or because there’s still a use someone can make of him; because others want him to.

So in the case where he’s with Nightmare, his Stage 2 self will live out of spite, because he’s still useful, because the Player wants him alive. His Stage 1 self will probably try to take care of his cats. Once his use is up he won’t fight death.

If he’s free of Nightmare, I think this will probably be when the Epic Sanses and Dream and Swap all attempt to keep a close eye on him. I don’t think he’ll like it, he probably doesn’t feel like they’re doing it out of concern for him, but simply because of pity or because they cared about Color and Color cared about him.

I think he’ll spend a lot of time in Stage 2, and as a result, I think he’ll probably just leave the Omega Timeline for a while. It’s too full of memories of Color, of things that won’t happen again, and people looking at him with pity or disgust that are an inconvenience.

He probably won’t take his cats with him; just make sure they’re safe with Ccino or the other Epic Sanses. He won’t ask Delta to come with him (he has Beta to provide stability for, and running away with Nightmare’s pet is just asking to be called a traitor), and neither will he ask Epic or Cross. On some level, Stage 2 Killer probably always just assumed that they all only tolerated him because of Color.

I’m seeing a possibility where Stage 2 packs his bags, drops his cats and their care stuff off with Ccino or at a cat daycare in the Omega Timeline, and attempts to secretly leave some time at night. But maybe he’s headed off by Dream, Core Frisk, Epic, Cross and Delta + Beta.

They’re all here to make sure Killer isn’t attempting to run off to off himself or trying to go back to Nightmare, which, no. He isn’t. Color wouldn’t want that for him.

And besides that, Epic and Cross and XChara are possibly wanting to go with him; wherever Killer is journeying off to. Killer has no idea why the fuck they want to, but he doesn’t care if they come or not. (They’re claim it’s because Killer is their bro (Epic’s words), but he thinks it’s because they don’t want him changing his mind as soon as he slips into Stage 1 and brings out a dagger.)

Delta and Beta would go with them, but as always, Delta won’t risk Beta’s health and safety. So they’re to say goodbye and make sure Killer stays in touch and visits. It’s the same for Dream and Core, but Core is also there to find Killer a safe place to stop at.

They’ll probably attempt to drop him and the others off in an AU that has enough positivity that Nightmare won’t think to look, but also has a place and precautions in place should Killer become a safety risk.

That was the deal when Killer first joined the Omega Timeline—no killing, no harming, no negativity. No going back to Nightmare and risking the Omega Timeline and its residents.

So what I’m saying is they’ll probably plop him into some sort of rehabilitation center, and if he has a therapist in the Omega Timeline (which I doubt), he’ll probably either do online sessions as mandatory or be required to find one in this AU.

Because although he seems fine and perfectly put together in Stage 2 (he’s still not, given how he avoids and dodges any topic discussing Color), everyone knows it’s a different story in every other Stage. Either way, I feel like Color’s death will leave him feeling once again hopeless and trapped—that it’s pointless to want for anything—and that death is the only rest.

(I also wouldn’t be surprised if he starts hearing Color’s voice in his head and seeing his shadowy figure of the corner of his eye eventually, too.)

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steventhusiast · 1 year

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@steddie-week day 3: first kiss

<- day two

as he sits on the edge of the quarry's cliff, steve leans back and lets out a content sigh. the moon looks a little pink as it rises into the sky, and the stars are visible now that most of the lights in hawkins are off.

after a few minutes of sitting there, steve hears the now-familiar sound of muffled metal music and the tired engine of eddie munson's van. over the last month and a half, after the world almost ended for a fourth time (that steve has witnessed), he and eddie have gotten pretty close. steve doesn't really know how to describe it, but eddie's got this magnetism to him. steve doesn't know a single person in the party that's not charmed by eddie's antics, himself included.

there's just something endearing about the metalhead, and steve finds himself fond and content every time they hang out. hence, their bi-weekly quarry hang outs. sometimes eddie brings weed with him, sometimes beer, sometimes snacks. and they just talk.

"hey stevie." the metal music gets louder as eddie opens the driver door and jumps out. steve doesn't bother to look over his shoulder, because he knows eddie will join him where he's sitting within a minute.

"hey munson." he replies only when eddie's finally sitting next to him, "you bring anything with you this time?"

eddie tsks to himself.

"are you implying my presence isn't good enough for you, king steve?"

steve gives eddie a very unimpressed look at his words, and eddie grins after a second and proceeds to dramatically pat at all the pockets on his person until he reaches into one pocket for a joint he already had rolled.

"i may have brought our friend mary jane along with me."

thirty minutes later, steve and eddie are both laying back on the ground, legs still dangling over the edge of the cliffside. steve finds himself very very conscious of how close eddie's head is to his, how their hands that lay on the ground between them are almost touching.

"i feel like i should have a better tolerance by now." eddie confesses, and turns his head to look at steve. steve's already got his tilted toward eddie, and is helpless to the way his eyes trail over eddie's face lazily now that it's in full view.

"why?" he asks, a little slow and a little stupidly.

"you know," eddie takes another drag, "drug dealer." and gestures at his person lazily. he then seems to decide they've had enough, because he puts out what's left of the joint, considers it for a second, and throws it over the cliffside.

"mm." is all steve can offer back, because he's kind of busy committing the exact colour of eddie's eyes to his memory. no time (or space in his brain) for real conversation with eddie.

now that everything's a little hazy, steve has no problem admitting to himself that he likes eddie. he's not put too much thought into what that means for him (he knows people can like both, but he's never liked a man until now, so what does that mean for him? is he just eddiesexual?), he just knows that when eddie smiles at him he feels shy, and when eddie's looking at him with his intense big eyes his cheeks get warm. like every other aspect of eddie, being the centre of his attention is a lot. overwhelming in the best way.

"earth to stevie."

steve blinks harshly a few times, coming back to some sort of reality to see eddie fully turned onto his side to look at him now. his brows are furrowed, leaving a cute little bump in between them. steve's helpless to his own wants, and lets himself reach out a hand to gently boop in between eddie's brows.

the frown fades away into an expression a lot more bewildered for a moment, and then that melts away into eddie's smile again.

"what's that for?" eddie giggles as he asks this, and steve doesn't think he's imagining things when he notices eddie's cheeks look a little more pink than they did a minute ago.

"you should frown less. your smile is much prettier." steve confesses, finds that he doesn't want to lie. he's been noticing that eddie maybe feels a similar way about him recently, and he thinks (hopes) it's safe to indulge himself a little. eddie's a self-proclaimed freak, so hopefully the worst he'll do is reject him.

"high steve is very complimentary." eddie says after a moment, looking very much like he's resisting the urge to cover his shy smile with a handful of his hair.

"high steve is braver than sober steve. and he- i can't talk in third person right now, my brain is not working enough."

eddie's eyes widen a fraction.

"you flirtin' with me, stevie?" steve thinks he sees hope in those pretty brown eyes.

"so what if i am, hm? whatcha gonna do about it, eds?"

it's quiet between them for a few seconds, eddie's eyes darting all over steve's face. it's like he's looking for something in steve's relaxed expression, a signal for whether steve's joking with him or not. steve offers the man a tiny smile, and where he knows their hands are laying next to each other, makes the effort to link their pinkies together. eddie's eyes stop their searching of steve's face, and he glances toward their hands. steve's definitely not imagining the blush now.

"what i'm gonna do," eddie starts, and somewhat clumsily props himself up on one elbow so he can lean over steve. he seems to lose a bit of confidence once their faces are inches apart, but steve gives their pinkies a little jostle in nonverbal support of whatever eddie's about to do, "is kiss you. if.. that's okay with you."

eddie stays leaning over him, waiting for a verbal signal this time. steve lets his eyes flicker to eddie's lips and back up to his eyes. he doesn't know how much time has passed since they stopped smoking, but he's glad to say he feels a little closer to sober. he wants to remember what's about to happen.

"that is more than okay with me."

eddie wastes no time after that, leaning in to kiss him and letting his free hand come to rest on steve's hip. he's practically laying on top of steve, but steve doesn't mind. he can feel eddie's smile against his, and he never wants this to stop, doesn't think he'd be able to be the first one to pull away.

eddie really is magnetic.

-> day four

#steddieweek2023 #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #st #steddie fluff #steddie first kiss #mywriting

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ahamkara-apologist · 1 month

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Feeling emotional about Eramis again. Feeling emotional specifically about how she's arguably one of the best D2 antagonists we've gotten in terms of being morally grey- even Savathun, for how well-written she is, can fall a little flat sometimes simply bc we know we can never trust her due to her track record of being self-serving, even if our desires can align with hers and she's still very complex. But Eramis is one of the few antagonists we've gotten who have never really been against US specifically- her hatred for the Traveler and the path it took her into the Darkness were all the results of systematic faliures from those outside her control. She WAS right to be hateful to the Traveler- it leaving Riis WAS what caused the Whirlwind, and the total loss of her homeworld. And yes, she DID choose to seize the Darkness to try to eliminate it, but the thing was that she had no idea just what she was getting into at the time. The Witness manipulates and abuses the weak and vulnerable- she thought she'd finally gotten her hands on a means of keeping the Eliksni safe from the Guardians (which she's right about btw!!) and leveling the playing field so she could fight on par with literal godslayers, but she was tricked. It's extremely clear from Plunder onwards that she never desired what the Witness did, but she didn't have a choice bc she was reduced to being just as helpless as she was the day that she fled Riis

But for all her pain, and how much she believes it defines her, it still didn't fully destroy her! She hates what we represent, but she still begs for us to choose what she believes is the path of least suffering. She still asks for us to give her friends the dignity of last deaths, and she grieved with Osiris when he offered her the chance. In Plunder, she warned Eido that if she tampered with her mission that she would kill her, but she still put her own life in danger for the daughter of her enemy- defying the Witness in the process, btw- to save her. And then, in Defiance, she put herself in danger AGAIN by not only betraying the Witness's plans to trap + kill us, but by physically flying into enemy territory to save Misraaks- who nearly killed her just a few months before. She hates what he stands for, but she'll still risk her own life to save him because she always, ALWAYS put the lives of her people over her own- and she knew as soon as the Witness began to turn Salvation into Wrathborn and Scorn that she had lead them into a trap. She's proud, but not so proud as to not recognize when she's done wrong...inwardly, at least

Eramis's heart is fundamentally good and it kills me that she's either ignored or hated by the D2 fanbase (hated more by the widespread audience, really) bc she's outwardly hypocritical and bc of her role in Rasputin's sacrifice (which she didn't even have a choice in, either- she was outright being watched by the Witness). All of her poor decisions are the result of untold centuries of trauma, suffering, animalistic desperation, and then finally being broken down by loss after loss after loss. Nothing she did is something that couldn't have been avoided if she just had the support system to keep her from being driven to the brink, and nothing that she did is not any more terribly monsterous than what we ourselves have done

I sincerely hope that Athrys is somewhere out there for her, and that she and Eido will be that support system for her post-FS. I want to work alongside of her and earn her respect and help her heal so bad, even if she never really comes around to us. It would feel counterproductive to Destiny's theme about grief and healing and learning to move past the unforgivable if we couldn't- because it's not like we didn't do the exact same thing that she did when pressed into the same circumstances (accepting the powers of the Witness to slaughter Salvation en-masse when threatened by them). We just had enough people supporting us to let us know when the devil was whispering in our ear, which is support that she very much did not have when she followed it to Europa

#destiny 2 #eramis #also like. we owe her sooo much glimmer after what she faced in the Prison of Elders #that + the fact that salvation honoured our surrender in the last seraph mission rlly drives home #the fact that we were the assholes in both of those situations. like damn eramis had more honour than humanity did #and dont even get me STARTED on the narrative comparisons between her opening the glassway and clovis's motives #they are LIGHTYEARS apart in selfishness

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ryuichirou · 1 month

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Replies

Some replieeesssss! A couple of them are about Jade, so I guess it’s a Jade special in a way.

Anonymous asked:

Sooooo we all know Azul would use his octopus form to bow chika pow wow Idia when they are in the middle of the devil's tango

Floyd would probably try with Riddle in his eel form... But would he with others?

Now the very important one,,,, I say important because I love him so AHHHHH

Would Jade fuck anyone in his eel form?

Or even, would he (and Azul or Floyd) try and convince their partner (s) to take a potion to use an under water form to and try and have hot aquarium sex???

I love how you’re describing it, Anon, this is very accurate lol

I think Floyd would do it with other people too, especially considering how he seems to be the one to most often turn into his merman form out of the trio; both out of his own desire and because he forgets to take the potion sometimes. Be it Idia, Epel, Jamil, Vil, any other person – all of them could get slapped with an eel dick at some point…

And of course, Jade would absolutely do it too! At lease I want to believe that even though he seems more proper than Floyd, he is just as eager to turn into his true form and mate with his partner in the way most natural to him. But not only because it’s more natural to him, but also because he knows that his potential partner will definitely react in a very amusing way… like a cute little prey!

I love the idea of the Octa-trio boys using a potion to use on their partners, partially because I really want to see everyone’s merman design 😭 Idia squiiiid come oooooon, and Goldfishie, and Betta, and Guppy, all of them would look gorgeous. But also I feel like this is something that they could absolutely do, and we’ve mentioned it a couple of times, mostly in our FloRid replies I think.

But it’s like a bonus to them. The main thing that they need is to make sure their partner doesn’t drown/can breathe underwater (although depending on a scenario this one is also optional lol), but every once in a while… every once in a while they start eyeing the person thinking that they would be very hot with certain fish parts down there to make the mating super enjoyable. And ALSO! Another reason why they (and ESPECIALLY Jade) might want to use a potion on their lovers: it makes them so shocked and overwhelmed with all kinds of new feelings and sensations! So helpless underwater, so oblivious and so restless!

Yeah, at least this is how I see it hehe.

Anonymous asked:

I wanted to share a Jadidi thought that i had. If you don’t mind?

So imagine Idia gaming in his room only for him to shriek in surprise when Jade suddenly pops up out of nowhere, scaring him almost to death, and when questions, he admits Ortho letting him in, Anyway, without knowing what to do, Idia offers him to game with him, and to his surprise, Jade agrees, and so they both started gaming together (Jade being typically normie sucks at gaming or heck he purposely plays bad to piss Idia off lol). I like to imagine they're Mario Kart, and yes, you guessed it right, Jade is playing as Toad (Get it cuz Toad is a mushroom? hehe).

Wholesome moments like these are VERY rare with the Tweels, but it happens, and Idia is reminded of the time; He and Jade bonded in Harveston, and he starts to feel butterflies in his stomach only for Jade to ruin the moment by opening his mouth saying the most horrific stuff, loudly telling idia how cute this mushroom videogame character is (aka toad) and how he would love to observe him more clearly and even dissect him with that creepy smile of his. Idia is absolutely frightened and immediately regretted offering to play games with him. Anyway they fucked after this lol.

Can you imagine Jade whispering sultry into Idia’s ear while holding him tight, saying he wants to continue playing games with him, but what "games" he's referring to is a mysterious :) Strangely enough idia not wanting to admit it but deep down he's definitely aroused.

Also, the idea of Jade buying Toad related Merch and stuff cuz Toad is now his favourite character after playing Mario Kart with idia is hilarious to me cuz you know how he feels about mushrooms and Toad being a mushroom and all. (I even saw Fanart from Japanese artists drawing Jade and Toad together, haha). Imagine Floyd coming back to their room after a stressful day at the mostro lounge only to see Jade's side of the room filled with Toad plushies and Merch hahaha as if he didn't hate mushrooms already. (Don’t let him find out about Toadette).

Or maybe the perfect game for Jade to fill up his God complex is the Sims 4, lol. That way, he can control the characters as much as he likes even though Jade is not into gaming.

What do you think? (´◡`)

Anon! Sorry for the late reply.

This is such a fun scenario, of course Ortho would let Jade in, he is all for niisan hanging out with his friends at his room 😭 And of course Jade would choose Toad as a character. I love it when people draw him with all kinds of mushroom-themed characters. And also how you (well, Idia in this scenario) could start thinking that maybe even Jade is capable of not being cursed for an hour or so, only to realise that it was stupid of him to assume that… But oh well, at least this whole thing ended wonderfully (with sex)!

This man really plays with Idia’s mind in the most satisfying way possible. Play your “games”, boys…

Also, I really want to see Jade play the Sims! He is good at making terrariums, right? He’ll probably build the most perfect unsuspicious-looking home with some kind of a torture trap, like the pool trick but somehow much worse. And he’ll figure out how to do it surprisingly fast…

(your ask also reminded me of a Floyd/Idia comic that we wanted to post but ended up postponing because of this whole twitter business…)

Anonymous asked:

Ryu and Katsu, I have a proposal for the two of you...it's about that last sebaciel ask I sent

(tw:sebaciel so prob underage and a little problematic and a little bit spoiler? It's been a very very long time since I last watched or read canon.)

What if Ciel was being his spoiled self and angry at Sebastian for something he did. (Like he didn't tell Ciel about a plan and then 💥boom💥 pouty little Ciel who wasn't ready and felt flustered and off balance.) So when they are all home,he asks sweet puppy Fin who would never say no to the young master, for a little help since Seb is in the proverbial dog house. Cue jealous Sebastian, who already detests being even vaguely associated with such an inelegant creature such as a dog watching/hearing his precious toy young master be slobbered over by an untrained mut. The morning after Sebastian does that passive aggressive condescending smile and while cleaning off all the...slobber. His ungloved hands are possessively stroking Ciel's cheek and under *that* eye. He slowly tilts Ciel's head back against the tub so Seb can look at him from above. (To remind him of who's really in charge here. Sebastian may let Ciel call the shots but he's the one with the true power.) "Bo-chan, letting such filth touch you. Tsk tsk" (Like Sebastian hasn't marked him for life, is no longer planning on eating his soul and makes him a demon later🙄). After dark, he educates Ciel on how it's done properly, since he clearly needs another lesson and he wouldn't be one hell of a butler if he didn't teach his young mater properly.

*Ahem* anyway....you two are wonderful and I hope your day is going well. You have given me so many cursed thoughts to daydream about.

I am very late with my reply, but it was sent after this post!

Oh poor Sebastian, of course he would hate being treated that way lol Ciel knows just the right way to annoy the hell out of him, even though in the end it’s Sebastian who gets to have the last laugh… or is he? He had to clean Ciel after whatever Finny did to him, so… I guess Finny is the true winner of this whole situation either way lol

Also I am very happy and grateful to hear that you like our stuff <3 Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and for your support as well!

m1lk-n-cook1es asked:

Do you know the Black Butler X TWST fanfiction "A Phantomhive in Night Raven College"? If so, what are your opinions? And if you're familiar with Yu-Gi-Oh, there's also a fic called "And You Thought Things Were Over", you can read that if you're interested

We don’t really read fanfics, so no, we don’t know this one. And while we are aware of Yu-Gi-Oh, we haven’t really watched it either :( But thank you for your recommendations nonetheless.

m1lk-n-cook1es asked:

I know the TWST localization is polarising, to say the least, but at least we don't have characters blaming patriarchal societal demands (though Vil does kind of scolds Epel for "gendering" dance moves) or random gamergate references (if you know, you know), or the creators straight up changing elements of the story and characters, like making a GNC cis character trans, and the localizers don't seem to hate the source material

I don’t know, while the things you’ve mentioned weren’t really changed, just like you said (and to be completely fair, Vil’s complain at least was accurate to what he said), and while I don’t want to claim that the localisers hate the source material (I don’t think it’s the case at all), in stuff that I’ve seen they seem to be… disconnected from/indifferent to it somehow? Sometimes. This + the way they phrase some things to keep things vague, or add unnecessary descriptions…

Then again, we haven’t watched anything with the EN translation in more than a year, so I can’t say for certain. It absolutely could’ve been worse, but it also could’ve been much much better in my opinion!

#replies

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years

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Non sexual dominance with softdom!Jason? 🤤

"I ordered you a smoothie," he murmured, pulling you close against his side.

"Thanks Jay," you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder as his arms come around to pin you in place. To anyone else, this is a sweet little cuddly moment, but really he's being a buffer. Giving you time to adjust to being in close quarters with so many people. "Can I have-"

"And a water," he added, kissing your head. "Can't have you getting a headache." Truthfully, he's more worried about the frequency of your stomach aches. And he ordered a smoothie hoping to be able to get something with nutritional value in your body.

"You're the best," you hum, smudging a kiss against his jaw, sitting up slightly when the waitress comes to set down drinks.

Jason notices the way you wince when she pauses to take food orders and slides your smoothie infront of you, telling you to drink. "I'll have a buffalo chicken wrap," he said, "And I think she'll have a quesadilla, extra pico and no beans."

"Jesus Jason," Stephanie snorted, "Do you just have all her orders memorized?"

"For the most part," he said shrugging, resting a hand on your thigh, maintaining physical contact with you. Tracing nonsense patterns on the skin left exposed by a convenient tear.

"It makes my life less complicated," you chirp.

"But what if you don't want a quesadilla?" Steph asked, "Like don't you ever try other stuff?"

"Ugh. Why?" you huff, "We only eat like 4 places when we're all together and why order something that I probably won't like?"

"Fair enough," she snorted, watching you tuck yourself back against his side, retreating when someone rushed past the table. And Jason tightened his grip, just slightly. "Young love," she teased.

Jason rolled his eyes and moved your smoothie closer to you. You were doing pretty well. All things considered. It had been a long week. A visit to Black Gate on Monday had left you feeling out of sorts- left you emotional and particularly receptive to other people's feelings. And not even his usual tricks to distract you had successfully mitigated anything. But today, the sun is shining. And after lunch, the pack of you are going to head to the boardwalk.

"Are you gonna cut it up for her too?" Dick teased, when the waitress set plates down.

"Fuck you," you shoot back cheerfully, picking up one of the tortilla triangles to take a bite.

"Yeah," Jason added, "She's a strong independent woman who can kick my ass- it's self-preservation, really."

And when you grin at him, he leans down and kisses your forehead.

"It's like that one time-"

"I don't remember that and neither do you, babe," he said, face heating.

-------

Out on the sidewalk, he shifts himself to be between you and the traffic, dropping his jacket around your shoulders and zipping it up for you before taking your hand.

"Jay-"

"I don't want you getting sick, Princess," he murmured. "You're tired and all those tummy aches have me worried." He stopped in front of the car and cradled your cheek in his hand, "Humor me?"

"Jaybird, I'm okay I'm just... sad."

"I know," he said softly, kissing your forehead. "And I feel bad that I wasn't there- I can't make all of it go away. But I can at least make sure my princess is safe and taken care of now."

When you look up at him, all big doe eyes and the little smile you only give to him, he kisses your nose before leading you to the passenger side of his jeep and opening the door. Offering you a hand up into the seat before buckling your seat belt.

"I can do it," you laugh, stealing a kiss, "I'm not-"

"Helpless? Oh I know- I've walked away from training with the shiner to prove it," he chuckled, kissing you again. "I just like knowing that if anyone else tried to do this stuff for you, you'd hate it- but when I do it, you get all wet and subby for me."

"Rude," you murmur.

"Careful, Princess," he rumbled, double-checking your seat belt, "Don't think I won't put you in time out again."

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #anon ask #anon answered #softdom!Jason #Minors dni

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edwinspaynes · 3 months

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Would be curious to hear more of your thoughts on the James-Matthew-Cordelia "love triangle" situation sometime. Personally I've always viewed most if not all of CC's love triangles and "love triangles" as narrative dialogues and I'm sure this is happening in some way, shape, or form with the not-exactly-an-actual-love-triangle-really situation in TLH but I've never exactly been able to figure out what it's a conversation about.

Okay so I think I've talked about this a little bit before but I haven't really gone into detail about why the TLH "love triangle" doesn't fall under the actual love triangle category.

In a MFM love triangle a woman character is in the center between two men. Both men offer her something different to the central girl, and they each care for her, have their merits, and offer something different to her. She must explore both relationships and make a decision.

This is true enough of the Heronfairstairs "love triangle." Both James and Matthew are wonderful people and have a lot to offer.

However, a love triangle necessitates that the character be torn between her feelings for the two characters. Cordelia has loved James since she was 13/14 years old. This is information that we glean at the beginning of Chain of Gold. From her first appearance until her last, Cordelia's romantic affections belong wholly to James.

This is fact #1: Cordelia made her choice long before the series began. It was always made clear to the readers that Herondaisy was the endgame. The entire romantic plotline in TLH works up to their remaining married, and in love, until the stars burn out.

Now, we have fact #2: Matthew knows this. From the beginning, Matthew knows that he is not actually going to live out an idyllic HEA with Cordelia. He knows that she loves James; he says as much in Chain of Iron, when he drops in through Cordelia's window. This admission not only demonstrates that Matthew is aware of his position in their dynamic but also that he has the ability to observe the feelings of those around him and draw correct conclusions on his own.

Fact #3: Matthew is insanely self-destructive, and in Anna's words he 'seems to prefer a helpless love.' Self-destructive tendencies are a core part of Matthew's character, and they do not begin and end with alcoholism. Even before picking up drinking, Matthew was calling himself 'a waste of space in a waistcoat' in Cast Long Shadows. His using romance as a method of self-destructing should come as no surprise, but this was also set up really well even before TLH started. The entire point of Matthew's crush on Lucie was to exemplify that he preferred a hopeless love.

And what's more hopeless - and more painful - than loving your best friend's wife? Nothing.

I will say that I do not think that this is the only reason Matthew loves Cordelia. I think that, as Thomas says, it is not so much romantic love as it is a sense of absolution - Cordelia is the outsider that does not know Matthew, so he shared his secret with her, which caused him to bond/imprint on her. But also... we'd be remiss not to note that Cordelia is wonderful. She's brave, big-hearted, and an extremely warm person; she's funny and bright and bold. She is a good friend to Matthew. I just felt the need to say that to be fair to Cordelia too.

Now, we move onto fact #4. James and Cordelia had their own main romantic plotline as well. And it's good. Here are some things about James and Cordelia that are all unequivocally true:

They have loved each other since they were children.

James was able to break a Prince of Hell's enchantment because of just how much he loved Cordelia.

Cordelia and James were a real actual married couple from the second Cordelia set foot into 48 Curzon Street. Like, I am sorry, but that was never a fake marriage even when they were clowning.

James and Cordelia have exuded massive soulmate energy from moment one. Neither of them have ever wanted anyone else.

Which brings us to Matthew. Matthew, who prefers a hopeless love. Matthew, who knows at least subconsciously that nothing would be more hopeless or painful than falling in love with his parabatai's extremely obvious soulmate.

This is why I believe Cassie chose to make these plotlines intersect. It is a testament to the strength of James and Cordelia's bond, but it is also a very good way to showcase just how bad Matthew's self destructive tendencies are since it's obvious how much he loves James.

We do not have the makings of a love triangle. We have the makings of two intersecting plotlines:

A Big Soulmate Energy love story that all Hell's power can't extinguish, and

The story of a boy with horrible mental health that massively self-destructs in the worst possible way.

And it hits.

Because fact #5 is that Cordelia and Matthew's 'escape' to Paris is just that - rampant, unrealistic escapism.

Did anyone reading TLH ever think that Matthew stood a chance? Did Matthew ever think that Matthew stood a chance? The answer to the former question should be NO assuming the audience has media literacy. The answer to the latter is no as well - at least not until Paris.

Matthew goes to Paris extremely impulsively. He plans on going alone. I like this because it sets him up as someone who loves travel. It makes his choice to go on a Voyage post-ChoT very satisfying, and it's good character-building/foreshadowing. But it also shows that he was not in a good mental place and needed to escape from London, escape from JamesandCordelia because there are no spaces between their names in his eyes or anyone else's anymore.

Cordelia goes to Paris because she is forced to wedge spaces between their names. James and Cordelia must be seperate again. She's also grieving her dad who died like 2 weeks ago maximum.

Both Cordelia and Matthew use Paris - and each other - as a means of running away from their problems. They pretend to be different people with no issues and have a good time. But it isn't real.

JamesandCordelia is real, and James's appearance in Paris and Cordelia's departure because of his drinking ultimately is Matthew's rock bottom as he realizes that JamesandCordelia are meant to be.

This is not a love triangle. These are two plotlines that hit each other in all the right places and force all three characters to grow and confront their needs to escape and avoid their feelings.

I think that this is why it's genius. It's complex, but it's also devastatingly simple: Herondaisy's love was so strong that Matthew used it as a vehicle for hurting himself over and over.

And this is why Matthew's leaving London at the end of ChoT is so satisfying as well. In London, he is likely to get sucked back into old habits; watching JamesandCordelia build what promises to be a beautiful life would be to engage in self-harm again. Leaving is Matthew actively choosing to take care of himself, to find a path where he can love himself and find another love that is not hopeless.

In the end, the Heronfairstairs "love triangle" is the manifestation and exemplification of Matthew Fairchild's mental health journey. It's not really part of JamesandCordelia's journey at all.

And I think that's what a lot of people fail to see about it, and that's why people get frustrated. They fundamentally have misinterpreted the purpose as "romantic drama" when it's not a romantic story at all. Essentially people are looking at a ripe orange and going "well that's the shittiest-looking apple I've ever seen," which as self-proclaimed #1 Matthew Fairchild Stan gets frustrating as hell.

#matthew fairchild #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #tlh #tsc deep dives

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