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otaku-girl-ao3-fics · 12 hours ago

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Look, I just wanna talk

“Get in.”

Dmitri held his head high as the door swung open, revealing a plain concrete room beyond. There was a single metal camp bed shoved in one corner, a bare flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling. As far as kidnapping attempts went, it wasn't the worst place he had ever been taken to. At least his hands were cuffed in front of him this time.

“You do realise that he won’t pay you,” Dmitri said, coming to stand next to the red and black spandex-clad figure. He tilted his head to one side. A stray trickle of blood made its way down his cheek, dripping across his lips. He didn’t reach up to brush it aside; Dmitri didn’t want to give the other man the satisfaction.

The masked figure didn’t move, remaining looming in the doorway, arms crossed. Dmitri’s eyes flicked across him; he didn’t recognise the costume. Not that that necessarily meant anything. He was aware of superheroes and supervillains, of course; he watched the news as much as the next guy. But, as far as he was aware, most of the superheroes and villains were a problem for those doing business across the pond. Dmitri couldn’t recall hearing of any incidents in London recently. He wondered what Nikolai had managed to do to anger this one.

“Papa doesn’t pay ransoms. He never has.”

The masked figure’s white eyes widened, giving the impression of raised eyebrows. “Papa? Is that what the kids are calling their sugar daddies these days? Or do you really think…? Christ, kid; I don’t give a flying fuck who your Papa is. I’m after bigger fish. A bigger cat? Bigger prey.”

Dmitri paused, turning back, brow furrowed. He had been kidnapped for any number of reasons over the years; demands for cash, for more favourable business deal terms, for the Kravinoffs to move out of certain territories or to help with others were all commonplace. Yet one thing always remained the same: It was Nikolai they wanted to deal with. It wasn’t as if Dmitri knew anyone else who should be willing to pay the price for his safe return.

Unease settled in his stomach. He sent the masked figure a tight smile that didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Nice try, twink-toes,” the masked man laughed.

Dmitri arched an eyebrow. “I think you mean twinkle—”

He held up a hand. “No, I do not. Now sit that twinkish ass down on the bed like a good little kidnapee for Papa Pool, okay?”

Dmitri’s face wrinkled in disgust. Deadpool rolled his eyes. “What? Are you saying I’m not Papa material? I’ll have you know, I have a twinkish type of my very own who loves calling me Papa Pool. Well. He would, if we ever got past the awkward first date stage… I think we’re up to double first date digits now.”

“You aren’t making any sense. And I don’t think it’s possible to have that many first dates…” Dmitri said slowly, eyes flicking to the empty doorway beside his kidnapper. He still wasn’t entirely sure how the other man had got access to his club. “Are you sure you have the right man? Really, I’ve got one of those faces; always getting mistaken for someone else.”

Ever since The Rhino’s last little kidnapping attempt and Sergei’s subsequent rescue, Dmitri hadn’t left the safety of The Den, other than the occasional ‘highly encouraged’ visit to the Kravinoff Estate to visit Papa when Nikolai grew frustrated with his absence. The last thing Dmitri could remember was finishing rehearsals for his set; there shouldn’t have been anyone outside of his staff in the building at that time of day. Had someone sold him out?

“Sure am. Unless you’re telling me you don’t know tall, dark, and holy-muscle-definition himself? Which, I’ll be honest? Not gonna believe you for a second. I’ve got the photos to prove it.” Deadpool tilted his head to one side, eyes narrowing as he took in Dmitri’s blank look. “Seriously? You know, your little pet wildman? I’ve gotta ask, is he as wild in the bedroom as he is on the battlefield, because let me tell you, that man is such a freak on the streets, I bet he’s—”

“Are you talking about Sergei?”

Read the full fic here: Look, I just wanna talk (1990 words) by Otaku_girl Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Kraven the Hunter (2024), Deadpool (Movieverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dmitri Kravinoff/Sergei Kravinoff, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Additional Tags: Light-Hearted, Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Half-Sibling Incest, Handcuffs, Deadpool being Deadpool, Ficlet, Kidnapping, Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Children (Marvel) Summary: When Dmitri is kidnapped (yet again), he gives the same line he always does; Papa does not pay ransoms. It turns out Nikolai isn't the only one with enemies willing to kidnap the youngest Kravinoff in order to make a statement…

30 days, 30 new fics

AO3: Otaku_girl | 30 days, 30 fics | ATJ character masterlist

Welcome to my little attempt at June of Doom ‘25 💙

So! So. It has been too long since Kinktober. And Kinktober still feels way too far away. So… we miiiiiight have found a writing challenge month that is. Very appealing. Whump and smut are basically one and the same when you’re bouncing between dark romance and hurt/comfort vibes, right? Right.

I might not have found this challenge until mid May, so… some of the fics are a little shorter than my usual preferred length, but we do have 30 shiny new fics across various ATJ-related fandoms, all ready to go, primarily for: Kraven the Hunter and Bullet Train, with a little The Fall Guy and 28 Years Later thrown in there.

30 days, 30 fics: June of Doom

Coming June 26th

Day 26: (For your own) Good | Kraven | Dmitri x Sergei | T | sleep deprevation + when will you learn

Day 27: Never (say goodbye) | 28 Years Later | Jamie x Reader | Mature | I'm sorry + miscalculation + embrace Day 28: ??? | Kraven | Gen | ??? | ??? Day 29: ??? | Kraven | Sergei x Reader | ??? | ??? Day 30: ??? | Bullet Train | Gen | ??? | ???

Links

Like my work? Check out my other fics and master lists. Primarily writing for Aaron Taylor Johnson and Mathew Baynton characters; slash (canon) and x Reader (never y/n).

My mains: AO3 - Otaku_girl (the only place to read all of my work) | Tumblr - Otaku-girl-ao3 | Fics only blog - @otaku-girl-ao3-fics

#fan fiction #june of doom 2025 #kraven the hunter #deadpool #crack fic

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 10 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After just two days back home, Bradley takes you on a second date. He wants more, and you don't seem to mind when he can't keep his hands and lips to himself.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being boyfriend material

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Shit."

It had been such a long time since Bradley wore anything other than a flight suit, a khaki uniform or gym clothes, he had no idea what he was supposed to wear to dinner tonight. You mentioned weeks ago you thought Italian food sounded nice for a second date, and he agreed wholeheartedly. He managed to snag a table for the two of you at Salvatore's, and he was absolutely prepared to drop over five hundred bucks, but his clothing was becoming a situation.

After spending the entire day with you yesterday, Saturday morning was a bit of a reality check. He was trying to work through three loads of laundry while he sorted through a box of mail. There was nothing sweet in there like the packages you and your class sent to him while he was deployed. It was mostly bills that had already been automatically paid online, mortgage statements, and junk. Then he started folding laundry, somehow expecting some articles of clothing that weren't threadbare tee shirts or tropical print button downs to jump out at him.

"Why don't you have normal clothing?" he asked himself as he picked up his phone now that it was late enough to text you. He wanted to make sure you were okay with grabbing a drink before the dinner reservation which wasn't until 7:45. But when he unlocked his phone, instead of zero new messages, he found a picture you sent seven minutes ago.

"Oh my god," he groaned softly, dropping onto his bed next to some unfolded laundry. You were in your own bed wearing his favorite sweatshirt and a bright smile.

Good morning, Handsome. Last night felt like a dream, but your sweatshirt is real, so it must have happened.

He scrambled to write back, clothing crisis forgotten. God, he wanted to be in that bed in the worst way. Things would definitely get out of hand pretty quickly, but he knew those first few kisses would be the sweetest things. After last night at the beach, waiting for a few more dates was going to be the challenge of his life, but he wanted you to know he was in this for the long haul. Especially after you mentioned that you thought he may have ghosted you.

Hey, Gorgeous. My sweatshirt looks way better on you than it ever did on me. Did you sleep in it?

He hit send and then wished he hadn't asked that question. He sounded like a horny twenty year old. It was bad enough that he had to practically beg you to go inside your apartment last night while you were kissing his neck, but he didn't want to embarrass himself.

Of course I did. It smells like you. The only thing better would be having you in my bed, too...

How the hell was he supposed to wait until this evening to see you? He tossed his phone aside. His blood felt like it was on fire, and he was sweating. Never before had he wanted to move this fast from a first date to making things official. But he knew you. He'd been working up to this point for months. And the Thai dinner with Prosecco on the beach wasn't really a first date. That felt closer to a reunion with a girlfriend than anything else. The only thing missing for that to have been true was a sleepover instead of him taking you home for the night.

He was too many steps ahead right now. You hadn't yet done the drive down to Coronado from Mira Mesa for yourself, but he already caught himself wondering if you'd consider moving in with him in the future. "You need to relax," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You'll scare her away." He cracked his neck and forced himself to fold a stack of underwear before picking up his phone to reply.

I don't want to rush things, but your bed does look very comfortable. I'm confident we could get cozy there... You're making me blush. I need to get this conversation back on track. Cocktails before dinner at Salvatore's? I'll pick you up at 5:30?

A few minutes later, you responded with a photo of you still all snuggled up in bed, smiling and giving him a thumbs up in his shirt.

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

"Just in case," you muttered, making sure your bedding was straightened and your room was tidy. You left Bradley's TOP GUN sweatshirt folded on your pillow, but you certainly wouldn't mind having the man himself in your bed tonight. Your fingers and toes tingled when you thought about it. You bit your lip and scooped up his shirt, inhaling his scent one more time before you realized he would be here any minute.

When he knocked on your door, you set it back on your pillow and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you bounced past it. Cocktails and dinner at Salvatore's would have been a major splurge for a night out for you, but Bradley selected the restaurant. All you did was mention Italian food, and he really ran with it. You'd have been happy with some pizza and breadsticks, simply excited he remembered you mentioned Italian food at all, but this called for your littlest black dress and your brightest red lipstick.

"I'm coming!" you called, going as fast as you could in your black heels, giggling at the double meaning. You had to compose yourself before you could open the door, and when you did, you were met with the actual man of your dreams.

"Hey, Gorgeous." Bradley's crooked little smile faltered a bit as his gaze slid down from your eyes to your lips, but he didn't stop there. He was shamelessly checking you out as a pretty shade of pink crept up into his cheeks, and you did a slow turn for him.

Your skin felt warm as you met his eyes after doing a full circle. His lips were parted as you whispered, "Hi," and reached for his hand. As soon as your skin met his, he pulled you closer to him. "Bradley." His lips were on yours as he backed you up into your apartment until you softly met the wall behind you. He was big and warm, and you were holding his left hand while his right one came up to your face.

He broke the kiss by tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he crooned softly. Your lipstick was smudged along his mouth, and his tongue darted out to taste it before he said, "I'm fucking crazy about you."

His rough thumb dragged along your bottom lip as you said, "And you've never even seen me dispose of a spider for you."

"Baby," he rasped. "I'd probably propose."

A shocked giggle escaped you, and his crooked grin was back as he kept you there against your wall with your door wide open. You reached up and ran your fingers along the collar of his oxford shirt before tugging on the fabric until his lips were on yours again. You let your head tip back against the wall as he devoured you, tasting your lips, tongue and teeth before his forehead came to rest gently on yours.

"You know," you gasped, trying to catch your breath, "I thought all your emails were sweet and romantic."

He chuckled as he pulled away from you. "I was hoping I was doing okay in person, too."

You shrugged playfully and tried to spin out of his grasp, but his hand was still wrapped up in yours. He followed you to your coffee table so you could grab your purse as you casually told him, "You're even better in person than I thought you'd be."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pulling you close again. "You like my stupid looking clothes and how I can eat three meals for dinner?"

He was so endearing, you didn't know how to handle him. So you kissed him again and whispered, "I like all of it." You let your fingers trail along his shirt buttons as you said, "You look nice in this, but I can already tell you're more comfortable in your colorful Aloha shirts and jeans. And I love that you can eat three meals for dinner, because we ended up sharing everything last night."

"Let's go," he coaxed, leading you toward your door. "I'll let you pick whatever you want to try at Salvatore's. I don't usually like sharing my food, but there's just something about you, Gorgeous. You make me feel comfortable."

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

You tried to tell Bradley twice that he still had some of your lipstick smudged on his face, but he just shrugged and said, "Good," in response both times. If he didn't mind, then neither did you. It couldn't be any more obvious that he was with you when the exact color that was on your lips was also on his. You listened to him hum along to the retro oldies station as he merged onto the coastal highway while you took a minute to fix up your own smudged lipstick.

He grinned over at you as you put your makeup away and said, "Come on, Baby. If you didn't want it on my face, then you wouldn't be putting more on your lips."

Every time he made a bold statement like that, you wanted to cancel dinner altogether and take him to your bedroom. "I never said I didn't want it on your face. It looks good."

He reached out blindly for your hand, and you grabbed his immediately. "You did tell me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

"Yeah," you muttered. "Don't stop doing that." You knew things with him were going to get physical pretty quickly, but you'd never been quite this attracted to someone before. You drew little shapes on his palm as you asked, "How was your first night back in your own bed after so many months away?"

He groaned softly. "Epic. Fantastic. I don't fit very well in an extra long twin bed."

"No, I would imagine you don't," you said with a laugh as you watched him drive his Bronco in the evening sunlight.

He licked his lips and grinned as he said, "Would have been better if you were there though."

The eruption of butterflies in your belly left you biting your lip. You wanted to respond, but you needed to be able to make it through dinner before you were hanging off of him again like you were last night. That's when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, treating you to his mustache there. "Feel like getting a drink or two in the lounge first? Maybe a bottle of wine?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, ready to go anywhere he took you. As soon as he parked, he jogged around to help you down, letting you slide against his body with your hands on his shoulders. You wobbled a bit in your shoes, but he kept you steady.

"You good?" he asked as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as his arm wrapped around your waist.

"So good," you promised. "Never better."

Bradley kept his hand right there on your hip as he led you along the sidewalk toward the restaurant. The lounge was packed; this was definitely a popular weekend date night locale. Couples filled the space with noisy conversation, but you could hear Bradley perfectly as his lips found your ear when he said, "There's an empty stool at the far end of the bar." He gave your hip a little squeeze as you headed for it, and he leaned on the bar next to you. "Why don't you pick out a bottle of wine or whatever you want? I'll go let the hostess know we'll be hanging out in the lounge."

When you agreed, he kissed your lips like the two of you had been at this for years, not just since yesterday. You weren't the only one who watched him walk away in his snug pants and Oxford shirt that somehow showed off his biceps. He was just that good looking. When you saw him without a shirt on, you'd probably faint and need him to revive you. When the bartender came over, you were chuckling to yourself at the idea of having sex with Bradley while he kept his shirt on to save you from that fate.

"Can I get you a drink?"

You looked at him in a daze, realizing you meant to choose a bottle of wine. You blurted out what kind you liked best, and with a nod and a smile, he turned to fill your request. And that's when you finally looked at the menu and realized the bottle was more than a hundred and fifty dollars.

"Oh shit." But it was too late. He had already opened it and was heading your way with it. You scrambled in your purse for your wallet, cringing at the idea of Bradley seeing the bill when you could have simply ordered a cocktail instead. Just as the bartender was pouring out a bit of the wine for you to try, you found your credit card successfully. And that was also when Bradley came back.

"They'll come get us when our table's ready," he said. "I told them it would be easy to find me since my date is the most beautiful woman in the restaurant." He watched the bartender pick up a second glass and said, "Oh perfect, you found some wine that you like."

You nodded and tried your best to pass your credit card across the bar undetected with your hand covering it. "I sure did."

Bradley's eyes followed your hand as he took a sip of the wine. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you told him, picking up your own glass with your other hand. You tasted the wine and nodded at the bartender, and then he filled up both glasses while Bradley reached for your credit card.

"That's not necessary, Gorgeous. You can put that away."

You waited until the bartender walked off before you shook your head. "Let me pay for the wine. I was distracted and just picked a random bottle before I looked at the price, and then it was too late because he already had it opened. It's expensive."

Bradley looked completely unfazed as he eased your card from your hand and tucked it back into your wallet. "I don't care about that."

"I do," you said softly in your embarrassment. "I don't want you to think that's what I expected."

Bradley laughed in response. "First of all, I would never think that. And second, I was on that aircraft carrier for so long, and this wine tastes so good, and you look so pretty... I don't even want to tell you how much I'd be willing to pay for that bottle of wine and our dinner."

You simultaneously felt better and a little warm. "Okay, fine. But next time we go out for dinner, we're getting burgers from In-N-Out, and I'm paying."

His smile grew as you sipped your wine which really was quite good. "So that means you want to go out again?"

You rolled your eyes up at him where he stood, his hand brushing your knee where it was crossed over your other leg. "I'm about to make an In-N-Out reservation right now."

"Perfect," he replied. "Which night? I have to work late a few days next week to get caught up on everything I missed while I was away."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a laugh. "How about Wednesday?"

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress as he said, "Wednesday's good. You also need to let me know when I can visit your classroom again." His words were so sweet, and his gaze was sincere, but the feel of his fingertips inching along your skin above your knee was something else.

You set your glass down next to your purse and reached for his hand, letting his fingers slip underneath your dress as you met his brown eyes. When he teased your skin with his rough hands, you reached for his shirt, and Bradley came willingly. Salvatore's didn't provide the two of you with the same level of privacy as the beach last night had, but you didn't really care, and he didn't seem to either.

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

You had the softest skin. How was he supposed to keep his hands off you? And that red lipstick made your little pout when he teased you even more delectable than he could have imagined. And he'd been doing plenty of imagining for the last few months. He'd imagined you in a variety of scenarios with him, but so far being with you in person surpassed everything his vivid thoughts came up with.

When he mentioned visiting you at work, you treated him to the silky soft feel of your skin, and then you literally grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged until he was kissing you. Oh god, he was never going to recover from this. He had to wrap his hand around the middle of your thigh to keep himself from going any further as you moaned softly into his mouth. He was absolutely starving and a little dizzy from the wine, but he was thinking about skipping dinner in favor of the solitude of the Bronco right now.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

Your tongue was slowly tasting his when you jerked away from him as the hostess strolled over. Embarrassed, you turned toward the bar as Bradley grunted in response at the young woman who told him the table was ready for the two of you. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because feeling you up in the middle of the crowded lounge wasn't something he'd feel good about later. At least not on the second date. He'd bring you back here in a few months and see if the two of you even made it to dinner.

With a smile, he reached for your free hand after you picked up your glass. You halfway hid your face against his bicep as the hostess picked up the bottle and led the way through the lounge and into the restaurant. Bradley kissed your forehead and murmured, "If I could keep my hands off of you, this wouldn't be a problem."

You peered up at him through your lashes. "Hanging out on your couch alone is sounding better and better."

"Fuck," he groaned softly as you released his hand and took a seat at the table set for two which was overlooking the bay. Bradley pushed your chair in, and his thumbs met your bare arms. He took a few deep breaths before taking the seat opposite yours and accepted one of the menus as he listened to the specials while he looked at your face. He muttered some sort of response, and then the two of you were alone.

You emptied the remainder of the wine between his glass and yours, and then Bradley watched you lick a little droplet from your thumb as you smiled at him. "So which three dinners are you planning on ordering tonight?"

It took him a second to realize that he was holding an open menu even though he hadn't looked at it once. He cleared his throat and said, "Definitely some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I ate spaghetti, it was overcooked and sad, and I had to go back to my bunk and think about you to make myself feel better." You covered your mouth with one hand while you laughed, and it was the most charming thing he'd ever seen. "I'm so serious, Gorgeous. I got a plate of soggy noodles, and literally the only thing that made it better was imagining you teaching your class about military grade jets and aviation."

Your pretty eyes were glittering as you told him, "I keep extending my lessons on the topic, and you are completely to blame for that. After the first time you responded to us, my students asked about you every single day. They are completely enamored with you."

"Yeah? Just them? Or you too?" He knew his words were reminiscent of the way you'd tried to blame it on your kids when you asked him to send you a picture so you could see what he looked like.

"Hmm." You pretended to peruse your menu. "I'm thinking about the ravioli. Or maybe the penne with vodka sauce." Your foot tapped his leg beneath the table, and he had to fight the urge to reach under and touch your skin again. You were teasing him in every way right now, and he was absolutely loving it. When the waiter dropped off glasses of water and some freshly baked bread, he asked if you wanted anything else to drink.

"You want another bottle of wine, Gorgeous?" Bradley asked, deciding to tease you right back.

"Absolutely not," you told him, looking at him like he had two heads before kindly telling the waiter, "No, thank you."

He was still laughing when he picked up a piece of bread. "So we'll get spaghetti, penne and ravioli?"

"You don't have to order what I want," you told him, your foot still running along his calf while your expression dripped with innocence.

"No. I want to though." It was kind of fun spoiling you with something as simple as dinner. Vanessa would have made a comment by now about how much she hated the slightly kitschy, over the top restaurant, even if the food was supposed to be immaculate. You didn't seem to mind one bit that he ordered three massive entrees and intended to finish whatever you didn't. Vanessa always got embarrassed, but all you said was that you were excited to try all three.

There was never a lull in conversation. You actually listened to Bradley when he was talking, and he could have listened to you all night.

"So you know how last night I mentioned... that I'd never really thought about dating someone in the military who deploys for work?"

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, not sure he loved where the conversation was heading.

You looked a little apprehensive as you said, "I was thinking about it more last night after you dropped me off."

"And?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I think I'd actually be okay with it, as long as it's you. It almost feels like we got some big, scary thing out of the way already, you know? And I could always write to you, because I kind of loved doing that. And yes, Bradley, I am also completely enamored with you."

It was almost a shame that the food arrived then, because as you started to cut into an enormous ravioli, all he could think to say was, "I'm completely enamored with you, too."

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

You were so full from dinner, you didn't know how Bradley could walk. He ate at least two times what you did, and then he insisted on ordering a piece of cheesecake. When you caught sight of the bill, you tried not to gasp, because it was more than you spend on groceries for a whole month. But he handed over his credit card and signed his name without even breaking conversation with you. And now you were discreetly grabbing a handful of mints on your way out of the restaurant as he held your hand.

It was late, and you knew he was still tired. He mentioned briefly that he had a lot of chores to do this week amidst some late nights at work, but you didn't know how you'd be able to wait until Wednesday to see him again. When he started up the Bronco and headed in the direction of your apartment, your mind flooded with questions, but he asked you one first.

"I already have plans tomorrow, but I don't think I can wait until Wednesday to see you again. What time do you usually get to school?"

"7:20."

"Okay. And what kind of coffee do you like?"

You couldn't stop smiling as you told him what you usually ordered on the rare occasion you had time to stop at Starbucks. You kind of already felt like he was spoiling you.

"Have you memorized everything I've ever told you?"

"Yep," he replied, his handsome smile evident in the street lights. "And I've gotta say, you're one of a kind, Gorgeous."

You honestly didn't want the ride to end. The fact that there was no buffer of traffic to add to the twenty minute drive made you pout a little bit. Bradley's deep voice layered over the music playing on the radio while he held your hand was intoxicating, but you made a disappointed sound as he parked in front of your building.

When he released your hand to kill the engine in the near darkness, all you could see was his handsome profile. "You thought the drive would be too much for me," you whispered. "But when I'm in the car with you, I don't want it to end."

He cleared his throat and softly said, "Well, we don't have to get out quite yet if you don't want to."

Your pout turned into a grin as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "I can tell you still need to catch up on some sleep. I don't want to keep you out too late, Bradley."

He chuckled and undid his own seatbelt. "Why don't you come a little closer and say my name again."

As you eased yourself onto your hands and knees, you scooted across the seat and whispered, "Bradley," with a little laugh.

"Closer?" he asked, and you crawled over to him until you were able to kiss his cheek.

"Bradley."

He turned his head so his lips met yours, and he whispered, "Closer," against your mouth.

You were immediately in his lap, your hands resting on his chest as the steering wheel met your lower back. Your lips found his scarred cheek just like last night, and you kissed your way along his mustache and the side of his nose. You let your hands drift slowly down over his abs until they met the leather of his belt, and you whispered his name one more time.

His big hands closed around your wrists as he groaned, "You really love teasing me."

You nodded and said, "I really do," as he guided your hands up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"You're really good at it, Baby. All those pictures of you in your bed are enough to get a man through a deployment and then promptly kill him once he's on dry land if he can't touch you immediately."

He kissed the inside of your arm, and you scooted your body a little closer to his. "You can touch me." Your words elicited a deep groan as he slid his big hands along your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed your lips, swiping his tongue against yours as his fingers trailed down your sides. You almost cried out when his thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts before he gently squeezed your waist and your hips.

You could invite him to stay over. You didn't think he'd turn you down if you did. But all you could manage to say was, "Bradley," between kisses.

He tipped his head back against the headrest and whispered, "I love the way that sounds." His eyes were glittering in the darkness as he looked at your face and your body, and you remembered his text message from earlier.

I don't want to rush things

It was hard for you to remember that yesterday in your classroom was the first time you touched him. The first time you heard his voice in person. As much as you wanted to lean in close and ask him to stay, instead you kissed his ear and said, "You promised me movie night on your couch. When?"

"Friday?" he asked, kissing along your neck. "Let me end the week with my Gorgeous girl?"

"Yes."

You were afraid you were going to melt right out onto the pavement when he opened his door, but he helped you down and kept his arm wrapped around you. Bradley walked a half step behind you in the darkness all the way to your apartment. While there was no expectation that he was going to join you inside, you ended up pinned against your door, because it didn't seem like he was quite ready to leave yet either.

He was eager. You could feel it as his lips found your neck again. He smiled against you as he whispered your name in that deep raspy voice. "Since you don't like surprises, I'm telling you right now that you should expect to see me in the parking lot at your school on Monday morning. Sound okay?"

"Oh god, yes," you whined as he released you. There were so many things you wanted to tell him as he put a foot of space between your bodies, really giving you a chance to see his pink cheeks and the way he was breathing deeply. You blurted out, "I'm falling so hard for you."

His crooked little grin was back as he nodded at your door. "Lock it behind you. And when you get in bed, in my sweatshirt, send me another selfie."

"I will," you promised, and you did exactly what he said. A minute after you texted the photo, you got a message back from him.

I think I'm falling even harder.

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

I'm so obsessed with them. She was so concerned about that bottle of wine! And he really wasn't lol. Coffee and burgers and a couch date coming up. This story will be 18+ soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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natewriteslol · 1 year ago

Text

Rumors: pt.1

Vil Schoenheit x Reader

Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: Vil and you have had a semi one sided rivalry as soon as your time at NRC began. However, the feud soon has to be put aside to stop an anonymous gossip blog attempting to ruin yours and possibly other students’ reputation. Will you and Vil be able to find whoever is behind this? Or will you be a fallen victim to those who call themselves, ‘The Catacombs?’

Part Two Here!

��═════════════════════════════

Ever since your explosive introduction at Night Raven, you always had the tendency to stick out like a sore thumb, captivating everyone with minimal effort. You didn’t belong here amongst wizards, beastmen,merfolk and royals, yet you managed to fit right in.

I think that was what really pissed him off, especially since he had worked so hard in order to accomplish what you do, impressing others and having eyes on him. However Vil had quickly got over it, his success wasn’t measured by popularity and validation from others, and he shouldn’t worry about a measly nobody that could never hold a candle to him. Instead, the dorm leader focused on keeping peace within his life, enjoying the routine and tranquility.

Which just wasn’t your thing.

You were clumsy, loud and did things your own way with no regard for how others felt. He did give you credit for you having the confidence to be yourself and being extremely empathetic to those who needed it.

Maybe the tipping point was you seeing him in his most vulnerable state, watching him overblot and lose control in envy against one of the people he hated the most. You were there to solve the issue and stop him alongside your friends. And worst of all he heard you point it out to them, believing that no one could hear your whispers.

But he heard every word.

‘He completely lost it over Neige, I’m glad we got it under control,’ he heard you say quietly to Ace and Deuce.

Later on, you decided to offer him a juicebox as he sat on the empty auditorium stage…

Apple flavored.

Which he swears on his unique magic that you did that on purpose to spite him, a sick joke that only made his distaste for you stronger. It felt like you knew exactly what to do at every moment to make him lose it, like yelling “on accident” when he needs to master a potion formula, saying something crude in the lunch room, the way it seems everyone is obsessed with you.

And of course it was extremely shocking to Rook when his dorm leader had begun re-explaining his disdain for the new kid at school. Despite laying back on the dark purple bedding that would make anyone relax and the sunset pink lighting from the lamp, Vil was far from calm. He had to recount the latest anger-inducing incident to his friend during their “sleepovers” on a Friday night, being wary of his not yet fully dried mauve nail polish as he talked with his hands.

It was this day that really made him angry, his last straw as some would say. He held his pen as he wrote notes busily into his notebook, heavily invested in order to pass the upcoming exam. It was wonderful, as the class was quiet just as he liked it, allowing him to fully concentrate and absorb the contents of the slide show created by Professor Crewel.

However, it was easy to hear a decrepit wooden door close in the pin-drop silent classroom. As the black and white man’s back was turned to the class, reading out the text of the slides to the class, you, Y/N L/N thought you could be slick enough to be unscathed by Crewel’s wrath

You being late was more set in stone than the heat within the land of the Scalding Sands it seems. Your satchel was barely slung on your shoulder with your weird, round cat creature barely catching up behind, and it was just Vil’s luck that he had to be the poor sap that had the only seat that was available amongst the many wooden tables. Crewel began scolding you as you fumbled in your seat, and whilst onlookers found it hilarious they wouldn’t dare look or let out a snicker at the scene. Your nervousness made you fumble your belongings in your bag as you attempted to get out your pen and notebook, your arm would touch his.

Making him neglect his usual manners and his side-eye of judgment fell upon you. Of course you didn’t notice as he began to study your features, the look of panic flooding your face. Although, this moment of looking at you ended up being a grave mistake.

“Mr. Schoenheit, if there is a huge problem with L/N being late to the point where your eyes can’t be bothered to take notes on the slides vital for your final then you will be delighted to join us in a discussion after class,” Crewell spat, his anger piercing the air.

His lilac eyes quickly reverted to the projector placed in front of the usual chalkboard. He was embarrassed yet no one could judge him or usually break out in whispers, in fear that they would be included in the punishment. Vil cursed at himself internally but that damn out of season, raggedy bag you carried was enough of a distraction, not counting the person attached to it.

All throughout the lecture, the actor had prayed that Crewell would forget about the mishap completely as there was an hour of class remaining, yet it had appeared that luck was not on his side at all.

He had tried to flee with the crowd of students rushing out the door, hoping no one would pay him any mind. But after he made one sharp movement to get out of his seat-

“Mr. Schoenheit!”

Shit.

Everyone had completely rushed out, with some snickering at the scene, not wanting to be there when the scolding would ensue as entertaining as it may be to see.

“Care to join us in the conversation like I suggested earlier?” Obviously this was not a yes or no question and Vil had no choice in the matter, but nodded out of courtesy.

“Yes, Professor,” Vil replied, coming down the short steps from his seat in the front row, not making even a hint of eye contact with you.

“I understand that the action of lateness pesters you heavily, Mr. Schoenheit. Does it not?”

“...Well, yes it does, Mr. Crewel. However, I promise that another incident like this will never happen again and I will be sure to mind my business more when it comes to fellow students,” Vil said, wanting to spit out some words that could please his teacher into letting him go off the hook.

“Despite being an actor, lying truly isn’t your area of expertise, young pup,” Crewel replied quickly, keeping a hand steady on the pointer he held. He then turned to you, his look softening as despite you not being an astounding student, Crewel favored you very much. Once again your formula of minimal efforts yet good results was absolutely infuriating to him.

“I truly worry about you Y/N, as along with your grades, your attendance along with Grim’s as a default are. I will be having a meeting with Crowley about the extra work he has you doing on campus to allow you to live here as well. However, I will be suggesting a partner assignment that is extra credit for the both of you.”

“I mean no disrespect Mr. Crewel, but I personally am in need of no extra credit whatsoever. I have a 99.5 percent in this class which will obviously be rounded by the grading admin,” Vil explained with a slight laugh in his voice. You rolled your eyes as it was plain to see that the blonde was putting you down. Sure you may not have a 90 something percent, but he didn’t have gnomes gnawing on his ankles this morning that he had to take care of himself with no magic.

But Crewel just looked at him with a concerned look, he was no stranger to shade being thrown and he was not about to tolerate that disrespect. He then explained as he moved to his desk organizing papers , “Oh dear, it looks like you have a bit of incorrect info dear pup. The grading admin stopped rounding this year due to academic dishonesty and such. Also I must add that you and Y/N had gotten the exact same test score, a C- if I remember. And with this being a huge difference from your usual scores, this will drag you down, I fear.”

The blonde’s breath hitched, he would be fucked for this semester and although not royally, that lack of satisfaction would eat him alive. That last exam Vil had little to no time to study due to his role as a villain in “Love Conquers All” on MovieFlix but of course karma stops for no one.

“A way we could solve this though is through our extra credit tutor program. Both of you enroll, Schonheit tutors you and makes sure you get to class on time, and if there is improvement then both of you benefit. And Mr. Schonheit will get the satisfaction he craves for his grades.”

"Does that sound like a plan?" Crewel had waited for a nod from the both of you, but Vil quickly rejected that notion faster than Ruggie could snatch someone’s wallet.

"How do I know that they will honor their promise, Professor? I am a very busy person and I do not wish to waste my time with someone who does not take things seriously,"

But you found his cocky attitude completely unbearable at this point. There was no way you were going to allow him to speak as if you weren’t standing right next to him. “I actually do take things seriously, please don't act as though you know me,” you said blankly, actually looking at Vil while talking for once.

"Excuse me?" Vil replied, he was thrown off completely due to you being completely silent this entire conversation.

"Listen, I don't flunk because I don't want to and I don't show up late because I want to. I'm willing to fix it if Crowley changes the work schedule because it's virtually impossible to be a handyman and student all at once sometimes," you clarified.

"I am an honorable person," you held out your hand to Crewel "and I swear I will change. I just need some help."

Crewel smiled, enjoying the fire in your spirit to stand up for yourself. You then turned to Vil, holding out your hand with a stern expression and as unsettled as he was he took your hand in his gloved one and shook it.

"Good choice my pups, I know you both won't regret this."

But despite having many differences, you both thought the same thing.

‘Yeah right.’

~~~

After the dramatic retelling, the man grabbed the golden, hand held mirror on his night stand to pluck his eyebrows, carrying on his irritated commentary, “So now I have to watch over them like a babysitter. Can you believe this?”

“Ah, Roi du Poison I do feel sorry for this causing you so much stress, but don’t you believe the little Trickster could hold their end of the bargain?” Rook questioned, as afterall, you were a good friend of his and he knew you of all people could keep a promise. It was always in your heart to get things done, regardless of how you feel about it.

“Oh please, I will give it a week, Rook,” he replied, hyper fixated on evening the arches of his brows only for Epel with sleepiness intertwined still in his walk, wondering what the cause of the angry tone of voice from Vil was for.

“What’s going on, you guys?” Epel questioned with a yawn.

But Vil snapped his fingers in recall, completely ignoring the question, “Ah, Epel you just reminded me, remember when we were walking to class and L/N had come up to you, ruffled your hair and such and was very curt with me? What even was that?”

“...”

“What is it?”

“Vil, Y/N is really aware you don’t like them. They actually talked to me about it today,” Epel explained bluntly.

Rook nodded in agreement, facing the vanity mirror as he peeled off his face mask“Oui, they try their best to not look at you even.”

Vil paused in thought, he didn’t think he made his dislike toward you so obvious but I guess it was quite the contrary.

“They don’t go spreadin’ but they told us, they’re cool about it though,” the lavender haired boy quickly added, not wanting to make anything worse for you.

But it didn’t necessarily matter whether or not you both liked one another, what mattered is that you got the job done by solving your faulty grades and attendance. Dislike is just a small hiccup, plus there were plenty of justifiable reasons as to why Vil did not like you, despite being told otherwise from everyone. However, he didn’t face repercussions nor are there heavy consequences for an opinion after all.

BUZZ.

The trio’s phones either vibrated or let out a cheery notification. Even from the door open ajar to the rest of the dorm, you could hear the different sound effects from student’s devices. The odd coincidence made them all look at their phones at the same time to look at what it was.

“This just in for some hot new gossip! I heard from a little birdy that the fairest of them all is viciously bullying the new transfer from a whole new world. But…they’re being partnered up to tutor by Crewel! Looks like all beauty doesn’t come with grace :(

-The Catacombs”

“The hell is this?” Epel said quietly, staring at the anonymous text message. It wasn’t a registered number, instead it was an auto programming since it was only five numbers reading: 88709.

“Oh mon dieu, Roi du poisson,” Rook uttered, unknowing of what to say, going from looking horrified at his phone to his dorm leader for any type of response.

By then the phone notification of Vil’s was ringing out of control, and he could hear Pomefiore members’ reactions to such an appalling message. He was receiving texts non-stop from multiple people asking him all the same questions,

Is it true?

Why he would put someone down like that?

Why does he have a problem with Y/N?

But a text from one specific person ate him alive completely.

Jack:

Hey, I don’t know if you saw the message

He quickly typed to the beastman in attempt to defend himself, knowing what they both went through together as children. Vil couldn’t let Jack of all people misinterpret him as this bully to his good friend.

Vil:

I would never bully anyone, nor do I waste my energy on people I don’t like. The stress ages you too much

Are you seriously going to believe this anonymous crap over me Jack?

Jack:

It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I have never heard the nicest things about you from them.

I’ll talk to you later.

Something like this absolutely could not get out to the public, bullying scandals can completely drag down a career as almost everyone goes through that traumatic experience of being casted aside because you’re different. And he would never be a monster like that toward someone, but playing villains in countless movies and tv shows would make it seem completely believable.

It was them who most definitely put out that rumor, and Vil didn’t care whether it was late at night, or if Rook and Epel wanted him to stop.

He was paying a visit.

~~~

With nothing planned and being extremely exhausted, this might’ve been the slowest moving Friday night you’ve ever experienced. And while you haven’t been inclined to care too much about what people say about you, to say you weren’t haunted by your encounter with Vil would be an understatement. Of course you were well aware of his distaste for you, but today it just felt as though it reached a boiling point with the way he was acting. But to take your mind off of it, you freshened up after a long day in class, slipped on something comfortable, put your phone on “Do Not Disturb” and decided to watch some movies on your laptop whilst eating snacks with Grim. After all, you deserved a reward as it would be the last day of relaxation before you had to lock down completely on your education.

Your cat and yourself ended up nodding off to sleep on your couch easily due to the calming environment of your house, as the ghosts decided to take a hint on the mood you were in and were extremely quiet. As both of you were catching up on needed rest, you heard an excessive pounding on your door. Whoever this was, it felt like they were about to break down your door with how aggressive they were knocking.

Grim nearly attached to the ceiling with fear, making you yelp in fear, naturally frightened to answer the door to see who was behind that hostility. Your eyes bolted to your tall case clock, the time reading 10:32pm, the late time didn’t ease your anxiety whatsoever.

However, after adjusting to your surroundings, you decided that you needed to answer as to whoever was continuing to hammer on your door as it was giving you a headache. Neglecting your human world instincts of not opening doors to strangers, you walked up to your tall mahogany door, only to find your favorite person on the other side.

Vil Schoenheit.

His face was painted with true anger that you’ve only seen during his overblot, “You have some goddamn nerve writing that shit about me.”

You were absolutely frazzled and confused overall, “What even are you talking about? And why are you at my house?”

“Answer your fucking phone and you will find out,” the blonde replied noxiously, watching your every move believing that you were trying to play stupid with him.

As you opened your phone screen, your eyes were lit up by notifications, as everyone and their mother had texted and called you in a matter of minutes.

But one message sat completely unfamiliar coming from that fateful, 5 digit number.

It was horrible and beyond untrue, even though he didn’t like you, you would never stretch it to bullying. Maybe as a joke amongst friends but never to be taken seriously. And as you digested that everyone had gotten this text message and with him being a celebrity this would do heavy damage. And whoever wrote this was out to get you both as many are absolutely in love with Vil, others hate bullying and hearing a glorified superstar being accused of such horrible things would make tabloids run with this story.

This was a complete lose lose situation.

You looked up to see Vil hovering over you, watching you like a hawk, you swore you saw his eye twitch with irritation, “I would never write something like this. And listen I am so sorry-”

“Who else would write something like this? Do you think I’m a damn fool-?” A small hand on his shoulder cut off his angry tirade progressing as he was about to move forward.

“Vil, we are going to get nowhere if you just get angry and lose control, now Y/N do you have any clue as to who would write something like this?” your friend Epel questioned kindly, juxtaposing his dorm leader completely.

“Not exactly, I don’t hate Vil at all like that and I wouldn’t spend my Friday night making up shit like that and you can check all of my technology,” you defended, offering your phone.

His suspicion got the better of him, snatching it out of your phone Vil scrolled through your phone messaging history. And despite going against his suspicion, he didn’t have any concrete proof that you were the culprit.

So until then, he guessed that you were just as wronged as him.

~~~

You all quickly moved to the inside of your house, both to get away from the cold night air, but also to get out of sight as to anyone who could be watching all of you right now. To say that this made all of you, especially you and Vil paranoid wasn’t an over exaggeration. Beginning to theorize with your two friends as to who would write something like this about you two. But unfortunately, every possible “lead” you had was just a dead end, no clear motive, but then again who would need a motive for a stunt like this. It was obvious that attention was what they craved, to drive both of you up the wall and unfortunately they succeeded.

“All they gave is a nickname, but any phone number could be tracked to a specific device used,” You said, as student announcements used 5 digit numbers all of the time, this person had to be skilled in tech.

Vil leached off of your theory, “The catacombs is quite a gothic name afterall, we need to search Ignihyde or Diasomnia.”

“Why them? That seems stereotypical” you asked, feeling argumentative on such a baseless theory.

“Because, Ignihyde is the most technologically advanced dorm, and Diasomnia students seem like the type to enjoy playing tricks like this anyway,” Vil explained as if it were obvious, his sharp gaze never leaving yours as he spoke.

While the flames of his anger had been flamed, it seemed as though his disdain for you was more permanent than a wine stain on a wedding dress. Never fleeting even during this moment of vulnerability from both ends, but you had no energy to begin bickering about it.

“Roi du poisson et mon Trickster, if we want to find whoever is doing this cruel joke, you must put aside your differences and work together,” Rook said, cutting the tension and bringing the platinum blonde back to Earth.

Whilst both of you didn’t want to admit it, the archer was right. If you wanted to figure this out you couldn’t be at each other's throats, fighting one another constantly. Otherwise you would accomplish little to nothing.

And there was no way ‘The Catacombs’ could be hidden forever, and you would make sure to uncover the skeletons within it.

Part 2...

~~~

A/N: Hi everyone! This fic takes inspo from an amazing novel that I read called "Ace of Spades" please read it its absolutely fantastic and the author is a genius. Thank you for bearing with me for the long time it takes to pump out content, you guys are amazing and it's always great to have opportunities to write.

xoxo, Nate <3

Taglist: (pls let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!!)

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gigiii1sblog · 1 month ago

Text

KISS ME LIKE A SECRET 002

Warnings: mature content, cheating, fluff, sexual content, 2 year age gap, 18 & 20 and more

Chapter two: The next morning

Y/N:

I hadn’t expected Josh to leave so early no goodbye, no kiss, just an empty bed and the quiet reminder that maybe he didn’t want to be around this morning.

I stared at the ceiling, the night’s memories swirling in my head. Mostly Chris, the way he looked at me by the fire, the way it felt like he was seeing me for the first time, not just as Nate’s little sister.

That thought twisted in my chest.

The knock at the door startled me. Before I could answer, Chris was there, leaning in the doorway like he owned the space, but with something guarded behind his eyes.

“You up?” His voice was casual, but the edge was sharp.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

He stepped inside, eyes flicking around the room before settling on me.

“Josh left early,” he said, like a statement, not a question.

I shrugged, trying to stay calm.

“Figures.” His gaze darkened. “Guy seemed like he didn’t belong here.”

My heart skipped. Was that jealousy? Or something else?

Chris took a step closer, and the space between us shrank, charged and electric.

“You don’t have to put up with that,” he said, voice low. “Not here. Not with me.”

I swallowed hard, caught between wanting to push him away and wanting to lean in.

“I’m not… that’s not what this is,” I said, but even to my own ears, it sounded weak.

He smirked, the cocky grin I remembered from lacrosse games, but now it felt like a challenge.

“Yeah? Then why does it feel like I’m the one fighting for you?”

⸻

CHRIS:

Y/N looked different now, older, sharper, and suddenly, not just Nate’s sister but someone worth noticing.

Josh leaving early wasn’t a surprise. That guy didn’t fit here. And now, I felt something new stirring, like a rivalry I hadn’t expected but was ready to own.

I knocked, then slid inside without waiting for an invite.

She was tense, like she wanted me to leave but didn’t want me to go.

“Josh took off early,” I said, keeping my voice even, but inside, I was burning.

She shrugged, eyes avoiding mine.

I stepped closer, feeling the heat between us, the unspoken battle lines.

“You don’t have to stick around with someone who doesn’t see you,” I told her. “Not when I’m here.”

Her breath caught. She tried to brush it off, but I saw it, the flicker of something real.

“I’m not trying to compete,” she said, but it wasn’t convincing.

I grinned, that smirk that made me dangerous. “Maybe you don’t have to. Maybe I just want to win.”

The space between us crackled, and for the first time, I wondered if this rivalry was about more than just proving something.

The Party:

Y/N:

I hadn’t meant to dress for him.

I told myself that when I slipped on the fitted black dress, the one that clung in all the right places and dipped just enough at the chest. It was for me. For confidence. For fun. Not for Chris.

Not for the boy who used to shove me aside in video games and ruffle my hair like I was just some little kid trying to follow the big boys around.

But now, as I stepped into the kitchen to refill my drink, I felt the weight of his stare before I even saw him.

Chris was leaned back against the far wall, a red cup loose in his hand, eyes locked on me with that unreadable expression he wore too well. His gaze flicked down, slow, deliberate, taking in the dip of my neckline, the way the hem hit mid-thigh, the way I moved.

Like I knew he was watching.

And the worst part? I did.

I pretended not to notice, focused instead on the fridge, the ice, anything but the way my skin buzzed under his stare.

He wasn’t alone earlier. I’d watched girl after girl drift toward him like moths to a flame, fingers twirling their hair, eyes wide, giggles dripping with flirtation. He soaked it up, charming without effort. It made something sour twist in my chest.

Of course he was like this. Chris Sturniolo was every girl’s favorite mistake. Loud, cocky, built like a sin. Every girl melted under him and I hated that I wasn’t immune.

I had Josh.

But the way Chris looked at me now, like he was seeing me for the first time made all my well-built walls start to crack.

CHRIS:

She moved like she knew what she was doing.

I’d seen Y/N a million times before, messy ponytails, oversized hoodies, laughing too hard with Nate. But this? This was different.

That black dress hugged her like a secret, like she knew every set of eyes would follow her across the room especially mine.

And she wasn’t even trying.

She didn’t need to. Her confidence wasn’t loud like the other girls who kept touching my arm or leaning too close. Hers was quiet, lived-in. It didn’t beg to be seen it demanded it.

I knew I shouldn’t be looking. Not at her. Not like this.

She was Nate’s little sister.

But she wasn’t little anymore.

And the way she walked into the room like she owned it, like she didn’t give a single damn who was watching made it harder to remember why I ever looked away before.

I took a slow sip of my drink, forcing myself to play it cool.

But I could see the way her breath hitched when our eyes met. The way she pretended not to notice me, even though every part of her was aware I was watching.

We had a history. Not a romantic one — never. But there had always been something there, something I ignored. Something I buried because she was off limits.

And now?

Now I wasn’t so sure.

Y/N moved past me, fingers brushing the edge of the counter, slow and careless. Or maybe it wasn’t careless at all. Maybe she wanted me to notice.

I couldn’t stop myself.

“You always run when your boyfriend gets to clingy?” I asked, voice low.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyes flicking up to mine. “Maybe I just needed a break from the noise.

I pushed off the wall, closing the space between us in two steps. “You’ve changed,” I said, letting my eyes scan her face, her mouth, the line of her collarbone. “Not just the way you look.”

She tried to smile. It faltered. “People grow up.”

“Not like that.”

She swallowed hard. “You never noticed before.”

“I didn’t think I was allowed to.” I paused. “But now? I can’t stop.”

The silence between us grew tight, breathless.

Her voice cracked slightly. “You’re just bored.”

“No,” I said, stepping in so close I could smell her perfume — soft, sweet, maddening. “I just never saw you. Not like this.”

She shook her head, even as her eyes fluttered shut for a second too long. “You can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“Because I have Josh,” she whispered.

I leaned in, mouth near her ear. “Then why do you keep looking at me like you don’t?”

That pulled something out of her. Her breath hitched, and I swear I felt it. Like the air between us changed — thick, hot, dangerous.

She looked up at me, eyes wide, lips parted, and for a second, I thought she was going to say something—close the space, cross the line.

And maybe I would’ve let her.

But then—

The door creaked open hard.

“Yo—” Nate’s voice sliced through the moment.

We jumped apart like we’d been caught doing something illegal.

I backed off, grabbed a beer I didn’t even want, pretending like nothing happened. Y/N darted for the hallway, her face flushed, hands shaking.

Nate’s eyes flicked between us, skeptical, but he didn’t say anything.

The moment was over.

But the fire it lit? That was just getting started.

Later That Night:

Y/N:

Back home, my dress lay in a heap on my bedroom floor, and my phone burned in my hand like it knew something I didn’t. Josh had gone home early. I’d texted him goodnight. I told myself that was the right thing to do.

And yet, here I was, opening his contact instead.

Chris Sturniolo

[11:47 PM]

You always run away or was that just for me?

My heart jumped.

I stared at the message, thumbs hovering, unsure if replying was the worst idea or the only one that would let me sleep tonight.

[11:49 PM]

You’re the one who looked like you saw a ghost when Nate walked in.

A bubble popped up instantly.

Chris Sturniolo

[11:49 PM]

Nah. Ghosts don’t wear dresses like that.

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach flipped anyway.

[11:50 PM]

Don’t do that.

Chris Sturniolo

[11:50 PM]

Do what?

[11:50 PM]

Make this something it’s not.

The typing bubble disappeared.

Good. I shouldn’t have answered at all.

But then—

Chris Sturniolo

[11:54 PM]

You’re right. It’s not something.

That was everything.

My throat tightened. I didn’t respond right away, fingers curled around my phone, heart pacing like I’d just sprinted. There it was, the thing we weren’t allowed to say, sitting in my iMessages like a dare.

CHRIS:

I shouldn’t have texted her.

She had a boyfriend. She was Nate’s sister. She was Y/N. She is eighteen.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked at me tonight, like I was a problem she couldn’t solve, like she hated how much i noticed her now. And I hated how much I needed her to notice. Every other girl tonight blurred together. She was the only thing I remembered.

When she didn’t text back, I tossed my phone aside, pissed at myself. What did I think would happen? That she’d suddenly forget Josh? That we’d joke about almost getting caught by Nate like it was nothing?

I ran a hand through my hair and laid back on her couch, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the way her breath caught when I leaned in. the heat of her skin, the look in her eyes.

My phone buzzed.

Y/N [11:59 PM]

I don’t know what this is.

But it’s not fair.

I stared at it for a second, something tugging at my chest.

[12:01 AM]

No, it’s not.

But it’s real.

Y/N:

I didn’t know what to say to that.

So I didn’t say anything at all.

Because he was right. And that was the part that scared me most.

⸻

The house was quiet

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that made your thoughts louder than they should be.

Outside my window, cicadas hummed into the night, and the leftover buzz from the party still pulsed in my blood, even though it had ended hours ago. I rolled onto my side, the dull glow from my phone screen still lighting up the space beside me.

Chris’s last message sat there, taunting me.

“But it’s real.”

My stomach twisted.

God, he shouldn’t have said that.

Because now that he had, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I couldn’t pretend tonight was just a weird moment or a party fluke or some twisted nostalgia.

I felt it when he looked at me. When he leaned in like he knew every part of me, the old, awkward kid who followed him around like a shadow, and the girl I’d become, the one he suddenly couldn’t ignore.

I never thought I’d matter to Chris. I was always just the annoying sister. Someone to ruffle hair and shove out of rooms. A background character to his loud, golden life.

And now?

Now I couldn’t breathe around him.

Now he was all sharp smiles and slow glances, and girls who melted at his feet and the worst part was, I was melting too.

I had Josh.

I was supposed to be happy.

I stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding as the realization hit me in full force.

This summer was going to be hell.

The Next Morning:

Y/N:

I didn’t expect to see him already awake.

The plan was simple: sneak downstairs, make coffee, avoid eye contact, pretend last night didn’t happen.

But there he was. Shirtless. Again.

Leaning against the fridge, sipping from a glass of orange juice like he wasn’t a walking complication.

I barely paused. Just enough to register him, to hate the way my stomach flipped before I kept walking.

His voice followed me like a hook.

“Morning, princess.”

I smirked, not looking at him. “You always this clingy after a little message?”

He chuckled, deep and lazy. “Nah. Just you.”

I turned to face him, leaning casually against the counter, crossing my arms.

“You flirt with everyone like that, or is it just your best friend’s little sister?”

His jaw twitched barely, but I saw it. Good.

He took a slow step closer. “You’re not a little anything anymore, Y/N.”

“No shit,” I said sweetly, letting my eyes rake over him once before looking back up through my lashes. “You just figured that out?”

He was in front of me in three steps.

I didn’t move.

I should’ve. But I didn’t.

His hand came down rough, hot, settling low on my waist. Possessive.

The press of his palm against the curve of my side made my breath catch. Not that I’d ever admit it.

His other hand braced against the counter behind me, boxing me in.

I could feel the heat of his body without him even touching me fully. His face dipped down, lips dangerously close to my neck, close enough to feel the breath when he spoke.

“Keep teasing me,” he whispered. “See how far you get.”

A slow smile pulled at my lips. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

His grip on my waist tightened, not rough, but warning.

“I don’t make promises,” he murmured, voice like smoke. “Especially not to girls who pretend they don’t want this.”

I tilted my head, just slightly, my breath catching.

“Maybe I don’t.”

He exhaled through his nose, a laugh with no humor.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

My heart was pounding. My skin was burning. My fingers twitched at my sides like they wanted to grab his shirt, pull him closer, finish what we kept starting.

But I didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And then—

Footsteps.

Voices.

Laughter from the hallway.

We both froze.

He stepped back a second before Matt walked in, ruffling his hair and reaching past us for cereal like he hadn’t just interrupted something that could’ve changed everything.

I didn’t look at Chris.

Not even when I felt his eyes on me.

Not even when my skin still felt the echo of his hand on my waist.

Because if I did…

I might let him win.

And I couldn’t afford to lose.

⸻

I sat down at the table like nothing had happened.

Like Chris’s hand hadn’t just been on my waist.

Like his breath hadn’t ghosted over my neck.

Like I wasn’t two seconds away from losing control.

Matt and Nick were already eating, bowls of cereal and half-toasted bagels scattered across the table. Nick was ranting about someone’s messy driving on the way back from the party, and Matt was nodding sleepily, eyes barely open behind his bangs.

Totally normal.

Totally chill.

I could be normal too. I had to be.

I kept my eyes on my bowl as I poured cereal, but I could feel him when he entered the air shifted. The kind of energy that filled a room and knew it filled a room.

Chris sat directly across from me.

Of course.

His leg brushed mine under the table when he stretched out, long and casual. Like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.

It was fire.

I shifted slightly, trying not to react, but he didn’t move.

“Sleep okay?” he asked, voice casual.

But I looked up and he wasn’t smiling casual.

He was watching me. Mouth curled just slightly, eyes dark with something only I recognized. He was playing a game. And I wasn’t about to fold.

“Like a baby,” I said flatly, spooning cereal into my mouth. “Didn’t even hear you sneak off with that girl from the party.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Wait—what girl?”

Chris’s eyes never left mine.

“There was no girl,” he said.

“Must’ve just imagined it, then.” I sipped my juice, keeping my expression neutral. “Could’ve sworn I saw you whispering to someone by the fire. ‘I’m real close, baby.”

Nick was grinning now, clearly entertained. “Damn, Y/N, you keeping tabs?”

I laughed lightly, fake as hell. “Just observant. You know me.”

Chris leaned forward, arms folded, elbows on the table. His knee pressed harder against mine under the wood, purposeful now. Deliberate.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m starting to realize just how observant you are.”

My stomach flipped.

I refused to blink first.

But it was Matt, sweet, oblivious Matt who broke the silence.

“Josh coming by today?”

The table quieted.

I swallowed. Hard.

Chris’s jaw flexed.

“Maybe,” I muttered. “He said he might.”

Chris pulled back slightly, eyes cold now. Like the mention of Josh snapped something back into place.

Or maybe cracked it.

“Right,” he said. “Can’t forget about your boyfriend.”

He said it like it was a joke. Like it tasted sour.

I smiled tight. “Nope. Can’t.”

Nick laughed like he was missing the entire subtext which he was. “God, this house is already tense and we’ve only been here a day.”

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

Chris stood, pushing back his chair. He looked at me once more before walking off like he had more to say but couldn’t trust himself to say it here.

His leg brushed mine one last time.

And when he was gone, I finally let myself exhale.

But the heat didn’t fade.

Because I knew this wasn’t over.

It was just beginning.

Y/N:

I was curled up on the couch, phone pressed to my ear, pretending the pit in my stomach wasn’t real.

“Wait, so you don’t want me to come?” Josh sounded confused. A little hurt.

I twisted the blanket around my finger. “No, it’s not that. I just… today’s kinda hectic. The boys just got here, everyone’s still settling in. It’s chaos.”

A pause.

I could hear him breathing.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, “you’ve been off all morning.”

“No, I haven’t,” I lied, too fast.

He sighed. “Okay. I’ll come by tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “Tomorrow. That’s perfect.”

When we hung up, I let my head fall back against the cushions. I knew exactly what I was doing. I just didn’t want to admit it.

I told myself it was easier this way. No fights. No awkward tension. No Chris giving Josh that look the one where he’s trying not to punch something.

But the truth?

I didn’t want Josh here because I didn’t want to see how I acted around him.

Didn’t want to compare it to how my skin burned when Chris so much as looked at me.

I was still sitting there, chewing my lip, when Nick walked in.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Just stood there, sipping his water, watching me with a weird look on his face.

I shifted. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

“You and Josh good?”

My chest tightened. “Why?”

Nick sat across from me, elbow on the armrest, spinning his bracelet around his wrist. “You just seem… I don’t know. Different.”

I shrugged. “It’s weird having everyone here again.”

He tilted his head slightly, still watching me. “Chris being here weird?”

That made me freeze.

Just for a second.

But he noticed.

“Why would that be weird?” I asked too casually, grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to my chest.

Nick didn’t answer right away.

He just smiled, soft and knowing. “You were so annoying about him when we were kids.”

I blinked. “What?”

“C’mon. You followed him around like a lost puppy when you were, like, eleven. Had that stupid charm bracelet with his initials—”

“I did not,” I cut in, face flaming.

He laughed. “You so did. It’s okay. It was cute. He never noticed.”

My stomach twisted. “Exactly.”

But Nick wasn’t teasing now.

He was quiet for a second, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“But he’s noticing now, isn’t he?”

I froze.

The air around us shifted, like the whole conversation teetered on the edge of something heavier.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Nick stood up, tossing his empty water bottle in the trash. “I’m not gonna say anything,” he said, like he already knew the answer. “But be careful, okay?”

I nodded slowly, throat tight.

“Careful with what?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Nick didn’t turn around as he walked out.

“With each other.”

guys I have part 3 ready lmk if you guys want me to post it today!

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze

@pair-of-pantaloons @kitty-meow-meow44 @emeraldsturns @sturnslux3 @kalel2005

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #fanfic #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #aesthetic #sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nate doe #nathan doe #christoper sturniolo #sturniolotriplets #sturniolo fanfic

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love-of-the-red-star · 9 months ago

Text

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter seven: In which March 7th joins the crew and asks why you have special privileges

Warnings: possibly ooc

You never expected to stumble upon the frozen chunk of ice that contained a familiar someone that you knew would become March 7th. She laid there, under the layers of unforgiving ice, naked and asleep.

For a brief moment, you wondered if you could just leave the ice to melt on its own, but shrugged the last minute and decided against it.

It was easy to just clip the ice out of existence and get the girl to safety, draping her in a comfortable quilt to protect her dignity and to keep her warm— you noticed she felt surprisingly soft for a girl frozen for god knows how long.

No one questioned you when you brought her in to the express and took her to your room, having known you long enough to trust you.

“She’s stabilizing.” Himeko told you as she finished examining her. “She’ll probably wake up in a few hours more or less.”

“That’s good.” You said as you observed the girl’s sleeping body, now dressed in some loose, soft colored nightgown that covered her entire figure.

“Where did you find her?” Himeko asked.

“Inside a block of ice.” You replied. “Eternal ice, specifically. Interesting, right?”

“Indeed it is…” She trailed off. “Any estimate of how long she’s been trapped in there?” She asked as she wasn’t there to observe the ice to know a timeline— it’s a miracle in itself that this girl was still alive after such a dangerous situation. She wasn’t a corpse, she didn’t bloat, didn’t bruise, and no signs of frostbite at all.

“Probably a long while. I haven’t seen eternal ice for a good few decades since I was born.” You answered, deliberately leaving out the detail that it was on the Aeon Fuli that you’ve seen traces of it last. It wasn’t your place to divulge that, and you too didn’t know the full story.

“Where’s Welt?” You inquired, changing the topic.

“He’s currently making some arrangements with Herta for our next stop.” Himeko replied. “Oh.. that reminds me,” she paused, as if uncertain. “I received a message from the IPC in regards to you— well, not quite. It’s your wanted poster.”

“Took them eight years to air out my dirty laundry outside two galaxies?” You frowned. “Lame.”

“Since when did you find out about this?” She looked at you with an incredulous look, remembering that your bounty was exactly a whopping 69 million credits. (Nice)

“I have no idea why they’re airing it this late here but I found out about it during my trip in a galaxy with a friend— I got famous there for killing IPC personnel using chairs.” You confessed with a casual shrug, you don’t miss the way she seemed taken aback, as if that was beneath you. Could she do anything about it?

No, not really. Because aside from you being basically this place’s patron deity since you vored the original one on accident, Himeko was just that kind of person. The kind who would just… get it.

“Also, it wasn’t unwarranted.” You sighed, throwing your hands up like that white, scuffled combination of a cat and a monkey to emphasize your exasperation. “They attacked me first. Walked around some old bar like they owned the place and tried to shoot me while I was trying to cheer on my friend.”

Himeko nodded. “I see.” She had enough common sense to figure out that people were basically asking for it— she’s however thankful that you’re at least not as destructive as she initially thought you would be.

She’s of course, wrong. But she doesn’t know that yet.

Emphasis on yet, because killing corporate employees with a chair wasn’t exactly the worst thing you did using a human projection. Does she have to know about what you did to Gopher Wood a few years ago while pretending you were just some bellboy in Penacony? No she doesn’t.

She didn’t need to know about the town you accidentally turned into Yharnam 2.0 around six years ago in some distant galaxy either. Granted, what transpired there wasn’t exactly your fault, but merely a result of people trying to foolishly communicate with your Aeon form without a transmission.

And thus, they were free of their ignorance. The exchange was that all of them went insane from gaining the “insight” needed to see you, observe you.

Himeko doesn’t need to know any of those things, or the sense of regret you felt by not being able to help them in the way they needed.

In the midst of your surprisingly quiet conversation, the unconscious girl woke up, and your face is the first thing she sees.

“Hello.” You smiled, gently taking her hand with your own. “Finally awake huh? You’ve been asleep awhile.” You said.

“H-hi.” Her response is weak, groggy. Himeko is quick to help her drink water for her parched throat, in which the girl accepts with little complaint. She almost coughs and you patted her back gently to ease her, telling her to slow down as she doesn’t let go of your hand along the way.

“Himeko, can you please get Pompom? She needs some soup.” It felt strange for you to be ordering her around with you easily forgetting you are technically the highest person in the train.

“I’ll get her something easy on the stomach, don’t worry.” Himeko merely smiled at you, complying with what you told her as you stayed with the girl.

“So, how’d you get in that ice?” You asked after a few moments, of course you already knew the answer, but you still let it out anyway.

“I… don’t know.” She told you. “Who are you?” Himeko said she’s stable— well, physically. You’re not sure how she is mentally.

“A stranger for now.” You smiled. “You should rest, you’re not exactly ready to get up just yet.” She nodded wordlessly at your words, and laid back down.

It doesn’t take her long to sleep.

“Welcome aboard, March 7th.”

——————

“Himeko, why does [Name] get to get out without contacting us for weeks but me and Dan Heng have to inform you of our whereabouts?”

Himeko paused with calibrating the navigation system as March put on the question.

“Well… despite how they look, they’re one of the senior members of the crew.” She began. “Don’t worry, they know their way back no matter where they are and where we will go.”

It’s a vague answer and March can tell, though, she doesn’t pry any further. You’ve been around in the express for longer than her or Dan Heng, so she chalked it up to you being the more experienced lot.

“Where are they right now though?” She pondered, and Himeko chuckled.

“Seems that someone is worried.” There is mirth in the navigator’s voice, March pouted in response.

“They’re all alone, of course I’m a little worried.” She said.

“I see. Not to worry, they’re fine, they’re just on another planet right now visiting a place.”

“Sigonia… IV?” Himeko pressed on the panel to show the state of the planet, and March almost blanched. “Wow, it’s…. dry… in there.”

“It’s a desert planet. [Name] was there before, they’re just finishing up in establishing a space anchor so we can head there whenever we’d like.” Himeko explained. “It was added recently to our navigation system around 12 or 13 years ago, and it’s inhabited mainly by two clans. You can ask Mr.Yang or Dan Heng if you’d like to know more about the planet. [Name]’s taken a liking to it.”

“Okay… what are other places that [Name] likes?” She’s curious now, despite having travelled with them for over four months, there wasn’t much that she knew about the mysterious astral express member at all.

“There is another place… they attended the university of Veritas Prime for a while before they quit because they got bored.” Himeko lightly laughed, recalling the memory of you going back to the train after spending a good portion of a year in the university, with you rather childishly stating you’re dropping out because you hated writing a thesis.

“Mr. Yang told me about that place once.. apparently it’s super prestigious.. and [Name] just quit because they got… bored?” Frankly, March was a little.. in disbelief.

While she couldn’t remember her past, she had enough common sense to know that academies like that simply aren’t places where you could just.. dip without a single regard.

But unfortunately, you were… well, you.

“That’s not.. really all there is to the story, even I’m not sure what actually happened, but it’s better for us not to question [Name]’s choices.” Himeko sighed, shaking her head.

“Okay…. Are there any other places that they like aside from a school and a desert planet?”

“I’m… not sure.” Now even Himeko was wondering what you actually liked aside from the things they already know. “I think they mentioned a tavern at one point. Though it’s not exactly one for a vacation spot.”

“What do you mean?” March tilted her head, curious.

“Let’s just say that it’s the kind where bounty hunters often linger around, at least that’s what they told me.” Himeko said without missing a beat, March shivered. “It’s alright, they said most of the people there are well acquainted with them.” She laughed lightly.

“That’s not exactly helping.” March sweatdropped.

“Oh! Looks like they’re done properly establishing the anchor.” Himeko chimed, Sigonia IV finally having a proper route for the express members to properly jump into.

March frowned, her questions haven’t yet been answered. What she got were vague, not pointing to anything personal about you.

Perhaps another day then. Or maybe when she’s braver, she’d ask you herself.

————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, part VIII (HERE), Part IX…..

Interlude: one, two…..

Special chapter: link

That’s a wrap for the long awaited chapter 7– I know we didn’t have much of the reader acting here, but I also want to explore the POV of other people and how they perceive you because I think it’s important—

I promise you’ll see the reader in action in the chapter that follows this :))

#aeon reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #himeko x reader #reader insert #welt yang x reader #honkai star rail #march 7th x reader

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slexenskee · 2 months ago

Text

What Moon Songs (Do you sing your babies)

Sorry I've dissappeared off the face of the earth I'm crawling my way out of the abyss 😭 to make up for it here's 10 google doc pages of the GojoxHawks mpreg AU

(this is AU after the first few chapters of FLW)

It’s only afterwards— months afterwards, that he realizes the full extent of his own stupid actions.

So many things had to perfectly align in exactly the wrong way for this to happen. But each and every one of them was his own damn fault, so there’s really no one to blame here but himself.

It had to have happened when Hawks had been sick and recovering in his hotel room, that’s the only way the timing lines up. Gojo has always been good about practicing safe sex— considering how he sleeps around, he sort of has to— and has never slipped up even once… until Hawks. Multiple times, actually, not even counting the time he was sick. There’d also been that time in Palawan, when he hadn’t brought any condoms with him because he’d honestly thought he wouldn’t need them. That had been rather profoundly short sighted of him, in hindsight. And then of course there were the time(s) when Hawks was staying in his hotel room, when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other and once again Gojo hadn’t thought to go out and buy any condoms because he’d genuinely thought he wouldn’t need any. Hawks had been sick! Basically delirious! How was he supposed to know that the moment he’d recovered enough he’d jump him? And on a related note, how was Gojo supposed to summon up enough willpower to stop him?

To that point— how was Gojo even supposed to know he should stop him?

That too, though, is entirely his fault.

Apparently it’s a regular part of sex-ed during middle school— except Gojo never went to class in middle school, so he’d entirely missed the memo. With the advent of quirks came a rare genetic mutation that allows for male pregnancies among a small subset of the population. Rare, but not entirely unheard of, either. It was certainly common enough for a segment to be taught in public schools, and testing to be done as part of the gamut of health checks most kids go through around puberty. Most kids aside from Gojo, who was out terrorizing organized crime syndicates just for fun at that age.

Yeah, he’s a fucking idiot. This entire situation was so laughably avoidable, and yet he’d managed to end up in it anyway.

Anyway so now he’s having an existential meltdown in the middle of his still unfinished bathroom, staring numbly at the flecks of grout still flaking off the new tile, wondering what the fuck he’s supposed to do now.

“Satoruuu,” a voice whines from the other side of the bathroom door. “I need to pee.”

Gojo scrambles to his feet, binning the evidence of all the pregnancy tests and burying it under a cloud of toilet paper just before he wrenches the door open, smile fixed in place. “Sorry Eri-chan! I was spacing out.”

Eri just takes the excuse at face value, bounding into the only current usable bathroom in the house and shutting the door behind her.

Gojo sighs wearily, slumping against the wall just outside the door.

Alright, first on the agenda is finding a temporary residence for them while he gets an army of contractors to fix the worst of the ‘home improvement’ sins he’s committed upon this house as quickly as possible. He’d originally thought redoing the rooms would be a fun bonding activity for him and Eri, but now he knows all those chemicals will be bad for… for the baby, so that’s probably a bad idea now. He’s also going to need this house in livable condition as fast as he can make it happen, because apparently… there’s going to be a baby here in less than six months.

He’s also going to need a doctor, and a very good and discreet one at that. From what he’s read in his mad frenzy of online searching, male pregnancies are very high risk. He’s not at all worried for himself, seeing as though he can heal from just about anything, but that same protection doesn’t extend to the other person currently taking up roost inside him. He frowns. Or does it? Wouldn’t his reversed-curse technique still work on them when they’re still a parasite leeching off of his body? When exactly does their cursed energy start to deviate from each others to the point he can no longer heal them as an extension of himself? Man, what he wouldn’t give for a conversation with Shoko right now.

He can worry about things like clothes and furniture and baby food after he’s settled the most immediate concerns on his list. Namely, fixing this house and finding a doctor. And telling Eri, although he doubts that will be much of an issue. The girl will be beyond excited to be an older sibling.

Now as for telling his family and telling Hawks…

Gojo winces.

Yeah, okay. It says a lot that he’d rather tell Endeavor, to his face, that he’s getting another grandchild than fessing up to Hawks about carrying his kid. Even the thought of it is going to give him a stress tumor.

Well, stress is bad for babies, right? So maybe he should just table the thought for later. You know, for his health.

At any rate there are a lot of things he could have done differently to stop himself from getting in this situation, and plenty more he could have done to salvage it had he known about it.

As it stands, mulling in his own regrets isn’t going to help anyone, least of all himself.

All he can do now is try to find a viable path forward… whatever that may be.

“All done,” Eri announces as she closes the bathroom door behind her, sounding inordinately proud of herself. “I washed my hands.”

Gojo huffs out a laugh under his breath.

She’s so adorably precocious. With the way she quietly longs for a loving home and family, she’ll be ecstatic to hear she’ll get the chance to be an older sister. She already bosses Meow around like he’s a little brother, and has a troop of stuffed animals she often pretends are her baby siblings. Between living with him and starting a life outside of the traumatic confines of the Shie Hassakai, bringing a new kid into the mix will be a lot on a little girl. But Gojo doesn’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing; the change will be good for her, and help her focus on things to look forward to.

“Good job, Eri-chan.” He reaches down to ruffle her hair.

It feels sort of silly to praise someone for using the bathroom and washing their hands properly afterwards, but Fuyumi had told him these kinds of habits are good to ingrain at this age. And at least he never had to worry about teaching her how to use the bathroom in the first place.

He internally winces at the thought.

At almost six years-old, Eri is fairly self-sufficient. She can’t be left alone in the house, and needs supervision for things like bathtubs and cutting up her own food, but he doesn’t have to worry about her accidentally rolling over and suffocating herself, or falling down the stairs and breaking her neck. She can use words to express herself well enough, and for the most part can be trusted to sleep through the night by herself without incident.

A baby… can’t do any of that. From what little he remembers of Fuyumi and Natsuo’s births, they can’t even lift their own heads up.

And he remembers what it was like, having those two toddlers running about the house. Rei tried her best, and she even had housekeepers and maids to help her, but more often than not Gojo ended up having to figure out what the hell to do with these strange babbling creatures that kept trying to follow him around entirely on his own. It was definitely a trial by fire. He remembers dragging Fuyumi and Natsuo to the park by himself, trying to push Fuyumi on a swing while Natsuo wanted to climb on his back. Natsuo had ended up falling off his shoulders while he was attempting to keep Fuyumi from jumping off the swing. The two year-old Natsuo had, shockingly enough, brushed the fall off after a few seconds blinking up at Gojo waiting to see his own reaction; seconds in which Gojo had swore his heart stopped. He’d thought he’d accidentally broken his little brother’s neck.

He’d refused to come out of his room, let alone spend unsupervised time with them, for weeks after that.

Eventually he’d had to come to the startling realization that the little brats were more resilient than he thought, but he wasn’t liable to forget how easy they were to kill by accident.

He didn’t do a… completely terrible job with them, in hindsight.

He tends to forget about that time in his life, before he’d started sleeping out of the house more often than he did in it, before Rei started locking herself in her room for weeks at a time. But he’d been there for it, even if he didn’t have to care for his siblings in the manner he eventually would once both Rei and Endeavor were out of the picture. And despite his best efforts, there were times when a toddler would be thrust at him and he’d had to figure out what the hell to do with them without making them cry.

But he hadn’t wanted to be put in that situation, and he’s not sure if he wants it now, either.

He’s all for owning up to his own mistakes, but there’s more at stake here than just his own sense of responsibility.

He looks down at Eri, who’s blinking up at him with a curious expression.

“Say, Eri-chan, you wanna go on an adventure today?”

She tilts her head. “Adventure?”

His very first instinct is denial.

After that comes a surge of fear. He’s not ready for a baby. He’s not even ready for kids, despite the fact he currently has one. He’s never been ready— not in this life, or his last. He’d always shoved the thought out of his mind before it could take root.

But standing in the backyard of the Todoroki house, he feels a strange sense of peace and inevitably overcome him.

Sure, this was unexpected, but is he truly as unprepared as he thinks he is?

Fuyumi is taking advantage of the unseasonably warm afternoon to spread a picnic blanket out by the pond and pull out a bunch of old picture books for Eri. She wants to start a scrapbook for Eri, now that she’s going to be part of the family, and the first step in that is apparently going through all of their old photos. Fuyumi is a little sad to see the box is mostly full of unused materials, and the books themselves are almost entirely untouched, but rallies admirably and decides to use the afternoon as an opportunity to finish them.

This wasn’t what Gojo had intended when he’d dropped by the house to see her, but they seem to be having such a good time that he can’t bring himself to interrupt them.

He ends up sitting with them and going through the photos, feeling a bit overwhelmed by how nostalgic they make him.

As much as he’d tried to run away from it all at the time, he’d been just as much of a parental figure in Fuyumi and Natsuo’s lives as their own two parents. Not because he’d wanted to fill that role, but simply because there was no one else. And at the time, it hadn’t seemed like that monumental of a responsibility. Gojo wasn’t alone in raising them; Endeavor could be counted on to fund their lifestyle, and there had been a vast array of staff to help with various household chores. There were some days when the cook had time off, and the messes around the house became too big to wait for the weekly cleaning service, and Gojo would step in to fill the gap, but for the most part he didn’t have to worry about little tasks like that. Their basic needs had always been taken care of, so it was only the more… personal duties that he ended up shouldering.

They didn’t have staff for things like walks to school and back, or help with homework, or bedtime schedules. If Fuyumi needed help in the morning with her shoelaces, or Natsuo threw a tantrum because his favorite soccer ball was missing, Gojo had been the one to fill the missing parental role. He was the one who bought them all slip-on shoes just to bypass the hassle of shoelaces entirely, and he was the one who took Natsuo on an adventure to the nearest Donki to placate him with a brand new soccer ball and several other toys on top of that whenever he had a tantrum.

At the time he’d just brushed all that off as the bare minimum an older brother (who was actually mentally a full grown adult) should do for their younger siblings, but looking back on it, that was parenting.

The amount of meltdowns he had to endure was enough to make him shudder. Rei was never any good with handling those to begin with, growing anxious and frustrated the longer Fuyumi or Natsuo spent crying, and as the years passed she stopped trying to handle them at all. Gojo wasn’t any better at it, at first, but he’d learned through practice when to distract them and when to just let them cry it out. He’d learned a lot of childrearing tricks through pure trial and error; how to get them out the door for school on time without any whining or tears; how to entertain them on rainy afternoons; how to get them to brush their teeth and comb their hair before bed; how to pick out clothes the night before school so they weren’t scrambling around and wasting time in the morning.

In hindsight, that was probably why he had very few issues with Eri. Aside from her trauma-related meltdown at the toy store, he very rarely had any problems with tantrums.

Looking back on all the photos of his youth, he actually comes to realize… he’s more experienced and prepared than he’d originally thought.

At this point in his lifetime(s), he’s technically raised two sets of kids— three, if he wants to count Eri. And each time he’s ended up in this situation, he’s gotten better and better at handling it. Sure, in all three of these situations he’d never asked to be put in the position of a parental figure, but that didn’t make it any less true.

He’s stunned to realize that at this point… he probably wouldn’t be all that awful at fatherhood. A damn sight better than either of his own fathers, at the very least.

“So, I’m assuming you didn’t come all the way out here to reminisce on old photos,” Fuyumi says, after they’ve distracted Eri in the yard with an old bouncy ball.

Gojo sighs, scratching at the back of his neck. He supposes he ought to just rip the bandaid off. “No, I didn’t. I actually… had a bit of a favor to ask you.”

“Of me?” Fuyumi asks, looking rather mystified and perplexed, as if the thought of Gojo needing anything— let alone help from his little sister— was so surreal she could scarcely believe it.

“Yeah.”

He really hates to do this, but he can swallow his pride when he needs to. And right now, there’s really only one person he can entrust with this.

“... Can you call Endeavor here for me?”

Truly, this child… Endeavor is never going to meet with him without having heart palpitations, is he?

“So,” Touya claps his hands, grinning brightly at him. “Remember when I said I couldn’t have kids? I lied.”

Endeavor staggers into the seat behind him, wondering if he’s having an out of body experience. This can’t be happening. This is… he cannot comprehend this.

The strongest villain— and hero— on the planet, with the spotlight firmly fixed on his every move, with so many viciously hungry enemies waiting to tear him down on all sides of the law, is really trying to tell him that—

“You’re pregnant?” He repeats, voice high with disbelief.

“Surprise!” Touya cheers. “I’ve got… I think six more months until I have a baby? Give or take a few?”

“We have to start shopping,” Fuyumi gushes at his side, already looking effusively giddy at the thought. “We have to come up with a theme for the room! Not to mention all the clothes and the toys… let’s do something matching with Eri-chan! That’ll be so cute!”

Endeavor stares at her like she’s grown a second head. She’s taking this news without breaking stride. She actually looks pleased about it. She’s excited. There’s a new addition to the family, and a new child to dote on. A baby, no less. An excruciatingly helpless, tiny, little baby…

Endeavor cannot share in her joy at all.

He’s absolutely, unequivocally, terrified. He doesn’t think he’s been this afraid in his entire life.

Despite all the chaos he regularly kicks up on a daily basis, Touya is a hard person to worry about. He’s too powerful, too in control of his own abilities and the world around him, to ever truly worry about him, no matter what life or death situation he finds himself in.

And right now, at what is undoubtedly the most dangerous time in his life— he’s also at his most vulnerable.

The fact that he’s here, coming to Endeavor at all, means he’s well aware of this fact.

Endeavor sighs heavily.

He wants to be happy for his eldest son. In a way, he thinks he is. Touya is an excellent older brother to his younger siblings, and already a wonderful father to Eri. He’ll be a wonderful father to this new child, too. And he doesn’t hate the thought of grandchildren. The thought of them throws him into a bit of an existential panic, but he’s hardly against the idea. If anything it’s a good thing, that his children are growing up and having families of their own, that he hasn’t ruined that for them in the same way he’s ruined so much of their lives…

But it’s hard to be happy for him when, at his core, he only feels fear.

Todoroki Enji has always been a creature full of fear. Fear of his angry drunk of a father, fear of being abandoned by his mother, fear of her new husband that was even worse than her first. As he grew, that fear quickly turned to anger, anger into hatred and, finally, into suffering. It’s a cycle that, in hindsight, he’s shocked he hadn’t pushed onto his own children. Torn of any outlet to feel anger towards, all he can feel now is fear.

“No,” he finds himself saying, abruptly cutting Fuyumi off.

Both his children turn to look at him.

“It’s too dangerous,” he says. “We’ll have an assistant procure the necessities. No one can find out about this.”

“But, dad…” Fuyumi starts to protest.

He shakes his head adamantly. “This is a very dangerous situation, Fuyumi. You may be a private citizen, but you are well known as my daughter. Even that is worrisome, but if anyone was to connect you to Touya…”

Touya tilts his head at him, expression impossible to read. “You think I’ll be putting her in danger?”

“I think you’re putting yourself in danger.” Endeavor shakes his head. “Touya, this is… your situation is already precarious, and for the next few months, you’ll be at your most vulnerable. The media is already hunting for any information they can find on you, to say nothing of law enforcement and the government. You cannot have word of this getting out.”

Touya just raises a brow. “Are you trying to tell me what to do, old man?”

“No!” Endeavor denies, loudly, scared that his eldest will dismiss his concerns out of hand simply because they’re coming from him.

He knows he’s never had a good relationship with his eldest son. It’s bold of him to assume he ever even had a relationship with him, at all. Touya has never wanted his advice, even as a child. As an adult, he probably wants it even less.

“No,” he says, softer this time, closing his eyes. “I know I have no right to tell you what to do— just as you have no reason to ever heed my advice. But if I can offer you any bit of wisdom from my own experience having children in the spotlight, let it be this.”

He all but deflates in his seat, opening his eyes. He’s surprised to see Touya isn’t leaping for his throat at the very thought of his worthless father attempting to lecture him in any capacity. But Touya has always surprised him at every turn, so perhaps he shouldn’t be so shocked. If anything, Touya seems rather willing to hear him out, sitting placidly across from him.

He meets that unyielding, crystalline gaze with a solemn expression. “Your mother went to all her prenatal appointments under a false name,” he starts, slowly. “The doctor was aware of her true identity, but I avoided going there in person.”

That was, in truth, both a precaution and a personal choice. He’s ashamed to say he wouldn’t have wanted to go in the first place, and the security the anonymity gave her was simply a convenient excuse.

“I can vouch for the security of Mustafu General,” he continues. “Almost every hero in the area uses them, and their discretion is top-notch.”

He rubs warily at his forehead.

If he’d thought having children as the Number Two Hero was a liability, he cannot even fathom what it will be like for Touya. Rei was a civilian, and the secretive nature of their marriage made her easy to slip under the radar. His face and name may have been known unanimously across the country, but hers had not. But Touya was not only in a physically vulnerable position, he was also the one in the spotlight. And if the father is who he thinks it is…

He clears his throat, awkwardly. “May I ask who the father is?”

Fuyumi looks tentatively towards Touya, brow creasing. Touya doesn’t even bat an eyelash as he says, blandly, “No.”

Endeavor nods. He’d expected that response. Touya has no reason to confide in him.

“... Touya,” Fuyumi starts, hesitantly. “Do you think it might be… better to tell him?”

Touya shakes his head. “No, I don’t,” he says. He stares Endeavor down in a way that’s rather pointed as he adds, slowly; “I think, for everyone’s sake, it’s best if that’s left to interpretation. Plausible deniability, and all that.”

Endeavor swallows down the dry lump in his throat.

Yes, Touya is right. It’s best if he doesn’t have definitive confirmation on who the father is. Nonetheless it’s a damning thing to say. Does Touya not trust Hawks? Perhaps. But more than likely, Touya does not trust who Hawks works for. Even now, the HPSC is maintaining a worrying, awful silence when it comes to International Pro Hero Six Eyes. And Endeavor, as a hero licensed under their jurisdiction, is just as beholden to them. If they come asking, for whatever reason, it’s better for everyone if he has nothing to tell them.

“Touya is right,” he agrees, voice grave. “The less people who know the truth, the better. Myself included.”

Fuyumi purses her lips, but says nothing else.

#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

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helloclancy · 3 months ago

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haymitch is tasked with speaking to johanna mason about trying to break the machine because of the stunt she pulled after her name was called. she thanked the district 7 escort for pulling her, out of every other name in the bowl, because she's just weeks away from her 18th birthday, then flipped the capitol building off with both hands.

"fuck that!"

haymitch understands why. he understands why plutarch pulls him aside after all the tributes and mentors gather in the capitol, and tells him that johanna painted a poster at her reaping. he knows why plutarch shows him the unedited footage. he knows why it was edited, too. because half of district 7 flips the capitol building off as they drag johanna mason away, kicking and screaming. no final goodbyes.

a kid, no older than 10, running through a crowd parting for him in anguish, screaming her name. a girl, maybe 18 since she didn't seem to be part of the reaping, chasing after him, red-faced from trying to hide her grief. refusing to play their game.

lenore dove. sid. maysilee donner.

before he truly, completely fell off the wagon and into a downward spiral of the worst victor alive, merrilee donner paid him a visit. she brought him ham hock soup and strawberry ice cream. "it was her favorite," she said. "i much prefer chocolate." they eat in silence, haymitch clutching his stomach, merrilee rubbing her head. pinching the bridge of her nose. shutting her eyes tightly.

she tidies up his empty, lonely house. she sings the ladybug song. she sings nothing you can take from me, was ever worth keeping. haymitch watches her. and he drinks. his deep scar itching with pain every time their eyes meet. "itchy itchy haymitchy," maysilee sings from the corner, her teeth stained red. haymitch takes another swig.

merrilee tells him she won't visit again, because she knows what it's like to stare at a ghost every day. haymitch whispers an apology. "there's no need, haymitch. maybe no one else got to see what happened out there, but i did." she rubs her head again, flinching in pain. he wonders if she's okay, but of course she isn't. "she made you pinky swear." he has no idea how she could have gotten access to unedited footage. forbidden footage. maybe mags got it to her. or maybe it was plutarch. "i just wanted to make sure you got this," she holds out her palm. a golden chain messily braided into old leather cord. in the center of the necklace hangs a metal flower, similar to the one she wore into the arena, but this one is gold.

"tam amber made it for her. the copper one was mine. it's a primrose flower. she left me all her necklaces, and i noticed that you lost yours, so i wanted you to have this one." she places it on the table, right next to his twitching fingers. he's trying not to cry. he's failing. he brushes his finger along the flower petals. his sis.

"even if we never speak to each other again, i just wanted you to know that when she said she'd be your sister, it went for me too." she kisses the top of his head. "be the worst victor that you can be, brother, and i'll do the same. for her."

he never speaks to merrilee donner again.

haymitch knows that johanna mason does not have a token. he also knows the price she might pay for painting her own poster. he fiddles with the necklace he kept to wearing under his shirts; debating. since burying his precious flint striker with his love, this necklace has become his battle armor. he knows johanna mason will need it more than him now, if she accepts.

"i saw that girl with your brother. at the reaping. she's your girl, ain't she?" she freezes, for just a split second, before squaring her shoulders and steeling her gaze.

"fuck off,"

bad start. "hey, wait," he slurs, not helping his case. he tries again, "johanna, that's not-"

"what are you gonna do? hit me? feel me up? tell me all i need is the touch of a man? are you gonna-"

"no!"

her eyes widen in fear, then anger. "then why is the infamous drunkard of district 12 trying to talk to me like we're pals? shouldn't you be drinking away the loss of your newest tributes?" ice cold. just like his sis.

so he tells her about lenore dove and her painted words. about her uncle and his hidden love. he tells her about the newcomers, about wyatt and his odds, about wellie and ampert and louella and lou lou. then he pulls out his necklace of hope and tells her about his sister, maysilee donner. who refused to die begging. who slapped their escort and transformed each district's tokens and obliterated the crowd's fashion choices during her interview. how she never once faltered in her convictions. how she trusted him without ever knowing the full truth. he tells her how he accepted his fate in the arena and accepted the task of blowing it up. how maysilee donner's necklaces helped him do it. he tells her that he was spared, but everyone that he loved died because of it. that he was kept alive just to watch them die. and then he unclasps the necklace and cradles it in his hands.

"we promised each other that if one of us won, we'd be the worst victor that the capitol ever had." he gestures to his drink. "she made me pinkie swear it."

"so that's why you're a hopeless, bumbling idiot." he nods. "why me, though? why not your tributes?" this, he struggles to answer. district 12's tributes this year are both only 13 years old. one is halfway to starving, the other beaten and bloody from peacekeepers. they've got no fight. no fire. they're so young. so innocent. he suddenly thinks of burdock's girls, katniss and...what's her name again? he's seen her following behind her big sister through the hob like a lost little duckling.

he looks down at maysilee's necklace in his fingers. primrose. primrose everdeen. children. they're just children. johanna takes in his silence.

she accepts the token. "well, if i win, i'll be the second worst victor in history. because i don't plan on playing their game."

#thg #sotr spoilers #sotr #sunrise on the reaping #johanna mason #maysilee donner #haymitch abernathy #if anyone remembers my early tumblr days they'll know just how obsessed with johanna mason i was #she is my no 1

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rustyr3dhe4d · 3 months ago

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love on call - ln4 - 1/?

summary: you are the new trauma director with a past you won't share. dr. norris, the sharp-witted ER physician, doesn't let mysteries go unanswered. what starts as tension and rivalry shifts into something neither of you can ignore - but letting him in means risking everything.

pairing: doctor!lando x doctor!reader (fem)

warnings: none for this chapter just a lot of medical terms 💋

wc: 927

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hospitals were all the same.

no matter the city, no matter the state, they all carried the same undercurrent - antiseptic and blood, coffee that had been sitting out too long, the hushed murmurs of nurses passing updates in the halls. every ER had its own rhythm, its own chaos.

and now, this one was yours.

you adjusted the strap of your bag as you stepped through the main entrance of westhaven medical center, the sliding glass doors hissing shut behind you. the morning rush was already in full swing - nurses pushing carts, residents scrambling for coffee, the steady beep of monitors filling the space between movement.

it was a routine you had memorized in more places than you cared to count. a new town, a new hospital, new colleagues who would eventually stop wondering about the past you never talked about. this wasn't the first time you'd stepped into a position with too many eyes on you. it wouldn't be the last.

you made your way to the trauma department without hesitation, your freshly minted ID badge clipped neatly to your coat. dr. y/n l/n, trauma director.

you rolled the title around in your head as you walked, ignoring passing glances from staff you hadn't met.

it didn't matter who you used to be

you were here to work.

and work, apparently, found you first. a voice crackled the intercom overhead.

"code trauma, ETA three minutes. multi-vehicle collision, injuries unknown."

you didn't slow your pace, already changing course toward the ER. when you stepped through the main doors of the emergency bay, the controlled chaos had already begun. nurses prepped beds, techs checked monitors, and the sharp smell of antiseptic filled the air.

a young resident standing nearby did a double take when he saw you. "uh- can i help you?"

you didn't bother with introductions. "how many incoming?"

"five, so far. first ambulance should be here any second."

"page surgery for standby, make sure we have two units of o-neg ready."

the resident hesitated, and you could see the question in his face - who are you to start giving orders?

before he could ask, the double doors burst open.

the first patient was wheeled in, the paramedic calling out vitals as he pushed the stretcher forward. "male, mid-forties, restrained driver, steering column impact to the chest. bp's dropping- 90 over 60 and failing.

your coat was off in an instant. "get him to trauma one."

there was no time for formalities, no time for second-guessing. the moment you stepped to the bedside, your voice was steady, your movements quick. you took over the moment the paramedic moved aside, hands gloved, assessing the damage as the team scrambled into motion around you.

"decreased breath sounds on the left," a nurse reported.

you reached for the ultrasound probes and confirmed the worst - hemothorax.

"he needs a chest tube now," you said. "get a 28 french."

the resident from earlier hesitated again. "should we wait for dr.-"

"no," you cut him off, reaching for the scalpel yourself. "he doesn't have time to wait."

the tube was in within seconds, blood draining from the pleural space. the monitors steadied, just slightly, enough to tell you you had bought the patient more time.

a beat passed.

then, from behind you-

"not bad for the new girl."

the voice was smooth, casual- but there was something in the tone that made your pulse tick up half a beat.

you turned, peeling off your gloves, and found him standing in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with an expression that was equal parts amusement and assessment.

dr. lando norris.

you knew who he was. you had already done your research before you got here. he had been at westhaven for years, his reputation well-earned- quick, skilled, cocky as hell.

the kind of doctor people either loved or barely tolerated.

he was also, unfortunately, the one person you were going to be dealing with the most.

you arched an eyebrow. "not bad?"

his smirk deepened, stepping further into the room. "patient's alive, isn't he?"

your lips pressed together. "you always grade trauma cases like a b-minus paper, or just mine?"

that earned a chuckle. lando leaned against the counter, watching you like he was trying to figure something out. "just making an observation. you didn't even say hello first."

"we're in an emergency department," you said flatly. "not a dinner party."

"still." he tilted his head. "most people introduce themselves before taking charge of an entire trauma bay."

you could feel the weight of other eyes in the room now - nurses, residents, waiting to see how this played out.

you take a step forward, meeting his gaze head-on. "if you wanted a handshake first, dr. norris, you should've met me in the parking lot.

for a half second, his lips parted- like he wasn't used to being challenged like that. but then, just as quickly, his smirk returned.

"duly noted." he said, stepping aside. "welcome to westhaven, dr. l/n."

the sarcasm wasn't lost on you, but you didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. instead, you turned to the team, nodding towards the patient.

"get him up to the OR."

the conversation was over... at least for now.

as you left the trauma bay, you could still feel his eyes on you.

and something told you this wasn't the last time you'd be on the receiving end of dr. norris's curiosity.

but he'd figure it out soon enough - you weren't an open book.

and you weren't here to be read.

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!authorsnotes! i'm baaaaaack. decided to try something new for my comback era (this is series is the something new) so yall let me know how we like it :) (can you tell like i like medical dramas)

#formula 1 #fanfic #formula one fanfiction #lando norris #lando x reader #lando x you #ln4 #mclaren #charles leclerc #daniel ricciardo #lewis hamilton #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1

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jjclopelover · 1 year ago

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How he talks to/about her v.s. How he talks to/about him

I'm back with more analysis' about JJPope and why it's better than anything either of them had with Kie.

Today I'm talking about JJ and how he speaks of and to them and why the difference in how he does it speaks VOLUMES.

JJ talking about Kie (S1): "Of course, I'm hitting on her. She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick, slumming with us. Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I tried it. Have you?"

JJ talking about Pope(S2): "Ain't all that bad. Just look at the guy over there. He would do anything for us. That's a Pouge if I've ever seen one. Bone-deep. That's just one man's opinion, though."

THE DIFFERENCE.

JJ talking to/about Pope:

"For once in your life, trust someone else."

~~~

"You're the golden boy."

~~~

Topper: "Hey, I just wanna make sure everyone here is okay with ending up in federal prison."

JJ: "Uh, if it gets to that, yeah, I'll do it for Pope."

~~~

"I'm here for you, Pope. Welcome to my world, okay?"

~~~

JJ talking to/about Kie:

"And you--I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?"

~~~

"Okay. Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara."

~~~

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr.Frankenstein."

~~~

(I don't need to put anymore as all of JJ's quotes for Kie are from the first half of S1 lol.)

As you can see, JJ speaks highly of Pope and lowly of Kie. He sees being a pouge as a badge of honor and gave Pope the highest honor. He sees Pope as someone he can relate too and shares a deep connection too.

He doesn't see that with Kie.

And I hear Jiara stans saying "What about S3? He was so worried about her and went back to get her!"

And to that, I say, "Yeah...cuz it's JJ."

His number one trait as a character is his loyalty. It's his best trait as it shows how much he will do for his friends. But also his worst trait as he puts his friends over his own being and in the end it only hurts him.

JJ would have reacted the same if it was anyone else in that situation.

Like when John B was a wanted criminal, JJ did anything for him. (risking to get arrested himself, shooting cops, and being by his side when he was on the run)

Or when Sarah is dealing with Ward or Rafe, JJ is always watching over her. (running after a car that held a drugged Sarah unconscious in the back, jumping in a shipping crate to get her and the cross back, staying by her side, and keeping an eye on her when John B was found guilty in court.)

And even Cleo who just joined the crew, JJ makes sure to treat her like the rest of the pouges. (like when he praised her for convincing Pope's parents to let him go to South America)

And we all know that he would do the same if not more for Pope. (going to jail for him, almost getting arrested for him again, taking over an entire boat of men to get his cross plus Sarah, risking being seen with him at Midsummers when he was supposed to be undercover, taking a beating from his dad for him, fighting for him at the outdoor movie, being super protective about him anytime he was around Limbrey and Renfield, keeping the secret that Pope was the one who actually sunk the boat and lying to the others, bringing Pope to his cousin Ricky's house to save his life even tho Ricky was still pissed at him for stealing his ambulance.)

And many, MANY, more.

The way we are introduced to JJ who loves and protects Pope but pushes Kie aside

versus

The way they "built up" S3 JJ for a toxic relationship with Kie but as a result of that he has to push Pope aside.

The writers and creators gave us s1 JJ, that's how his character was made and supposed to be portrayed. S3 JJ was built off toxic fans who threatened their way into an unfortunate canon ship.

Toxic stans = Toxic ship.

You Jiara stans wonder why JJ felt out of character, or why the Jiara chemistry felt forced or fake. That's because it was.

You can't force chemistry.

All the OBX cast did chemistry reads to see which duos worked together as a couple and which didn't. But the one duo that did not do a chemistry read was JJ and Kie (Rudy and Madi)

why?

because the creators saw no need. as they weren't even thinking of getting those two characters together. JJ was supposed to end up with Cleo. That was one of the many reasons Cleo came back as a main character.

What they would do with Kie and Pope, I don't know and I don't care. But Any ending would have been better than canon Jiara.

Anywaysssss

JJ treats Pope like he's his partner

and

JJ treats Kie like she's his sister

But let's be honest...we all see that, don't we?

Editor's note: Sry this took so long lol, life's been busy :)

#another jjpope analysis #jjpope #anti jiara #jj maybank #pope heyward #kie carrera #sarah cameron #john b routledge #obx cleo #outer banks #obx #outerbanks #outer banks jj #cleo obx

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the-undeadwriter · 4 months ago

Note

Hello! I've never done a req before so hopefully I do this right :)

I had an idea of an x reader fic with Dazai that was set in Dead Apple. So obviously there was the fog that caused all the people with abilities to have to fight that ability and my idea was that essentially the reader is one of the ones affected. Maybe they have a telekinesis ability or something and they have to fight that. Of course Dazai doesn't have to fight his since he was with Fyodor and Shibusawa, but he doesn't think about it affecting his partner. After everything clears up maybe he realizes what happened but it was too late since they were already hurt (or killed). If they're hurt maybe he does his best to try and patch them up and take care of them. I'm a huge sucker for hurt/comfort and angst so the sadder the better.

Thank you so much! I hope you have a great day!

I’m glad I’m your first request and you did great!! Also- this is pretty sad but it’s also pretty open ended?? Not a lot of comfort but I can do a part two if anyone is interested :)

Warnings: angst!!! Near death experiences, probably ooc, reader I gn! Pre-established relationship :)

Wordcount: 591!!

Enjoy!!

This was, perhaps, the worst day of your life.

The fog that had descended upon Yokohama was a strange, fickle thing. Many people had disappeared. Those who hadn’t…

You dodge out of the way of a large piece of debris, eyes wide.

Those who hadn’t disappeared were forced to face against their own ability. Like you were now.

This was a precarious situation, in all honesty. You were powerless, fighting against an entity with no remorse. An entity that only wishes to hurt others.

It’s like looking at a twisted version of yourself— the person you could have become if not for the Armed Detective Agency.

More debris is thrown at you, along with metal sheets and cars. You barely manage to step back in time to remain mostly unharmed. You can’t quite step away quick enough to dodge the next object, thrown at you too quickly to properly see what it was before you were struck down.

You try to stay awake, but you are just… far too tired to stay awake.

His plan had worked perfectly. Shibusawa was dead, Fyodor had been carted away… everything had worked out perfectly.

Expect for one. Small. Thing.

You.

Wonderful, kind, you.

Fragile, delicate, you.

Injured, hurting, you.

That wasn’t part of the plan— but then again, he hadn’t planned for you at all.

He stands outside the ADA’s infirmary, awaiting Dr. Yosano’s diagnosis. He felt… strangely numb, considering that you, his partner, was injured.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He had found you, when all was said and done. Half buried under rubble, blearing and battered but mercifully alive.

What happened after that was a blur— taking you to the agency and handing you over to Dr. Yosano’s care… he barely recalls what happened.

His head shoots up when the door to the infirmary opens, eyes wide and erratic as Yosano sighs heavily and tugs at her gloves. “They’re alive.” She starts, taking a breath. “But they aren’t awake- they likely won’t wake for a while.”

He nods silently, standing and stepping closer. His throat is scratchy and his voice is hoarse when he speaks, “Can I see them?”

Yosano purses her lips and hesitates before she sighs, nodding. She steps aside with a quiet warning to be quiet, and he rushes inside.

The infirmary is bright— it’s almost too bright, considering how awful this situation feels. His breath catches as he spots you, lying still in a hospital bed. The white sheets and bright lights make your skin seem pale— or maybe that’s from your near death experience.

He practically collapses into the chair situated next to the bed, carefully taking your hand in his own. Even your arms have been bandaged… he understands why you try not to focus on all of his bandages.

He can’t bring himself to speak. His words catch in his throat and burn at his mouth. He feels if he were to open his mouth smoke would expel from his lungs, it’s hard to breathe.

He sits in silence for a long time. He can’t bring himself to speak.

Eventually, he stands from the chair, letting your limp hand slip from his grasp. He leans down and presses a shaky kiss to your forehead, and he whispers an apology against your skin before he flees the infirmary.

He can’t bring himself to stay with you any longer, not when you are undeniable proof that he is a curse upon himself. That he brings misfortune to those closest to him.

He is so sorry.

#gender neutral reader #gn reader #gn!reader #x reader #bsd x reader #x gn reader #bsd osamu dazai #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader

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snail-migraine · 1 year ago

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hello !! please delete / ignore if this validates your rules !! ^ __ ^

Platonic Yandere Malleus & child [name] . .

and [name] may or may not be a brat . . and probably failing school ( it’s college so no wonder !!)

preferably he / him prns but you can do whatever :] thank you !! there’s just not enough platonic yanderes in twstfandom . .

Of course! I'd be more than happy to this. The platonic yandere is a trope thats very unexplored, so I'd love to do one! Thanks for the Ask!

Anon-Yan💌.‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Platonic Yandere Malleus

So since there were no specifics on who reader might be [Just that reader is Malleus's Child] let's just say that reader is Malleus's adopted child, but is still Fae. Just not a draconic fae.

Malleus as Yandere father is super-overprotective. The phrase "Helicopter Parent" Doesn't even begin to describe this man.

Maybe it was due all of the neglect he suffered through as a child, but this man absolutely refuse to give you any sort of privacy or space. Even as a teenager.

He just hates the idea of you feeling lonely so he spends practically every second he can with you, even at you're own expense.

Malleus is also petrified of losing you, Lillia is closing in on his own death, Silver never had very long compared to Malleus, and Sebek is half human, meaning he will never live as long as Malleus.

You're the only other family he has aside from his grandmother, he's not letting you go easily.

Malleus is one of those people who can't help but spoil their children, he'd hate to start yelling at his precious baby.

Maybe all that spoiling is how you got the way you are. Entitled and bratty.

When you first started going to school Malleus would get complaints from teachers on just how terrible you would be to the other kids.

But he refused to believe his precious baby was so awful. Especially when you started [fake] crying, saying that the teachers and other students here were mean to you.

"How dare you accuse my child of such terrible acts! My child would never do such a thing. They are nothing but a sweetheart. If I ever hear such a blatant lie fall from your lips ever again, the consequences will result in your immediate execution. Understand?"

Those poor teachers man.

Malleus babies you so much it isn't until Lillia, Silver, Sebek, and his grandmother hold an intervention that he'll start being a little hard on you.

But even then, if you start crying he'll back down.

It's ironic that somebody so strong breaks so easily at the slightest little swell of your tear-ducts.

Life goes on like this for a long time, with you causing trouble and Malleus brushing it off like it's nothing.

It isn't until you're a teenager and enrolled in Night Raven College that you finally cross the line.

"Mr. Draconia, I don't what it is but your child seems hellbent on becoming one of the worst students this school has ever seen!", Crowley exclaims, "Just last week they destroyed on of Diasomnia's numerous gargoyles! Even with my genius expertise, I can't keep them under control."

You keep your arms crossed and blow a peice of hair out of your face. 'That crow is still yapping.' You think to yourself, annoyed about having to listen to some lousy headmaster blab on and on about how you were sooooo terrible. As if the guy really thought that the Malleus Draconia would ever listen to his bullshit.

Dad always took your side, any second now that crow would finally shut his mouth and your dad would finally get you out of this dump.

Crowley jumps in his seat when a strike of thunder hits outside. 'There it is.' Dad always hated it when people accused you. The frown on your face lightens to a devious smirk.

"Ehem.", Crowley tries to regain his composure, "I believe if they're behavior doesn't change I'll have to expel them."

Thats when Malleus finally snaps, but he doesn't make it clear to you, or Crowley. But God is he pissed. He's spent all this time babying and treating you like the little royal he knows you should be, but look at you! Nothing but a troublemaker with no respect for anyone or anything around you. Has he really failed as father this badly?

You know what? It doesn't matter anymore, cause guess what? He's no longer going to baby you, you're almost an adult for sevens sake! And you've got the intelligence of two year old.

"That's fine, Headmaster Crowley." He says, trying to keep his demeanor calm despite the now raging storm outside. "I think it's best that from now on I start home-schooling them anyways."

His curls his fists into his lap.

"Thank you for your time, we'll be getting Their things now and removing them from campus. Have a good day Crowley." And with that he grabs you by the wrist and yanks you out of the room.

He didn't even let you grab your things, he just pulled you to the mirror and sent both of you back to Briar Valley. Once there, he continues pulling you around by your arm until he gets to one of old dungeon cells put high up in a tower. There he finally lets you go by throwing you in. When you try to ask why he's doing this he shushes you with his glare. Pointed and sharp.

He may be father, but he's not going to play nice.

He takes a deep breathe, a crackle of green thunder booms from outside the old brick walls of the castle, before he speaks up.

"You disappoint me. I have given you nothing but love and generosity in the hopes that you would turn out as a kind, loving, and respectful person."

You're at a loss for words as you try to say something, anything, but he glares at you once more and shushes you.

"You are a member of the Draconia Family. There are rules and guidelines we must follow, we can not go around acting like brats and destroying anything we like. And until you adhere to those simple rules, you will no longer be treated as a royal.", His tone was sharper than the deadliest knife. And his words made you more scared of your father than you'd ever been before.

"Your time will be spent either studying or cleaning. In your down time you will be making your food and no servant will be tending to you. Do you understand?" You could only nod dumbly as actual tears welled in your eyes. The sight made him grimace.

"..I love you my dear, but you are a Draconia. And you need to start acting like it." He said, almost as though he was trying to comfort you. Before turning on his heel and walking down the winding steps out of the tower.

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dandylion240 · 16 days ago

Text

Twisting his watch around his wrist Brendan stared at the time. Worry tugging at the back of his mind. Had something happened? Should he go looking for them? Should he wake Ryker and ask him to watch the younger kids?

Glancing at the TV shocked still that they had found one of the fugitives. What should have been good news was soon shattered when the reporter added his dead body was found in an alley next to a popular restaurant in town. For Jonah’s sake he hoped the body was nowhere near where they were tonight.

Rubbing his chin, Brendan wondered if this was why they were so late. Maybe Jonah had found him. Maybe he had a severe anxiety attack and Ethan had to take him to the hospital. But none of that explained why neither of them had called.

“Why haven’t they called?” he muttered to himself pacing back and forth in front of the TV.

“Grandpa,” Eli's soft hesitant voice sounded loud in the room.

Startled, Brendan turned to face his grandson. He could see his own worry reflected back in the wide green orbs so much Ethan’s. “Why aren’t you in bed?” he asked as if he didn’t know the boy was as worried as he was.

“Why aren’t they home yet?” his bottom lip quivered as he fought back a sob.

Gently ruffling the boy’s hair “how about we call them and find out?” he suggested, hoping this time someone would answer. “Come on Ethan, answer,” he pleaded under his breath feeling Eli’s eyes watching him intently.

“Why isn’t he answering his phone?” he asked looking up at Brendan, tears filling his eyes. “Did the bad man get Daddy? Awan was right. I should have told them.”

“Told them what?” he asked, maintaining an outward calm he no longer felt.

“That we saw the bad man outside the house earlier. Just watching from his car.” He lifted a hand wiping away tears. “It’s my fault they’re not home. If I had just told them, Daddy wouldn’t have gone out.” Whimpering a little, Eli added “but I wanted Daddy to have a night out like they used to.”

Peering into his grandson’s troubled eyes Brendan assured him, “whatever is happening it’s not your fault.” They had all known there was an element of danger to them going out. Had all shoved it aside to give Jonah a sense of safety and normalcy.

Sniffing Eli asked, “you're sure?”

“Positive,” Brendan said, pulling Eli close, squeezing him tight. “Now you better go to bed.”

“Can’t I stay up with you?” he pleaded “I won’t be able to sleep until they’re home.”

“Are you sure it’s not the movies we watched keeping you awake?”

Shaking his head Eli said, “dinosaurs aren’t hurting my Daddy.”

Brendan almost wished it were dinosaurs. It’d be somewhat easier. “Why don’t you pick out a movie to watch,” he suggested.

Ten minutes later they were cuddled on the couch watching Cars.

Across town Ethan was staring into an interrogation room, an officer at his side. “Look at him” he shouted pointing at the glass “does he look capable of killing someone?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” the young officer muttered, unable to meet the glaring hostility radiating from Ethan’s entire being.

On the other side of the one way mirror Jonah jumped as the officer he was facing slammed his fist onto the table between them. He let out a strangled gasp, his eyes wide as if he expected to be attacked at any moment. “I … I didn’t do anything,” he stammered.

“Didn’t do anything,” the man sneered, “what do you call this?” He tossed some graphic crime scene pictures at him.

Jonah’s eyes flickered towards the pictures. He barely recognized the face of his former boss. Low whimpering sounds filled the room. Pushing the photos away he covered his face in his hands fighting the rising bile and panic coursing through his body.

Pounding a fist into the mirror, Ethan demanded, “what kind of monsters are you?” He whirled to face the other officer “Jonah would never hurt anyone. Not even his worst enemy. It’s just not in him.”

An older woman inserted herself between the two men. The struggling officer mumbled “Captain,” before releasing Ethan to pace like a caged animal in the room.

The woman gave the young officer a writhing glare “I thought I told you not to bring him in.”

“Um well,” he stammered his eyes going towards the room where his partner was. “WIlcox thought you were only worried about the press if we brought him in. Famous guy and all….”

“If you had waited for forensics you’d have known you were bringing in the wrong man,” her eyes narrowed letting her words sink in.

“We … I mean Wilcox thought we had enough to bring him in. After all that creep had been stalking Reagan for weeks not to mention their previous history.” HIs eyes flickered towards Ethan warily “anyone in that situation would want the guy gone.”

“Gone not dead,” Ethan growled.

Shaking her head she flicked a switch turning a speaker on inside the interrogation room. “Mr Reagan you’re free to go.” Turning to Ethan “you and your husband are free to go,”

Ethan hesitate a moment torn between needing some form of apology and his need to go to Jonah. Looking into the mirror and seeing his husband’s huddled shaking form he turned away from the officers. Jonah needed him more.

Yelping at the light touch on his shoulder Jonah almost dived beneath the table.

“It’s only me,” Ethan knelt beside him “It’s alright. We can leave…”

“He’s dead and they think…” gagging he swallowed convulsively.

Grabbing a nearby trash can Ethan recognized the signs before Jonah’s face lost all color. He held the trash can while Jonah lost what was left of their date night dinner. Setting the trash can aside he rubbed Jonah's back in slow soothing circles. “It’s okay baby. They know you didn’t do it.”

Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to rid his mind of the images of the pictures that he was forced to see. “How cccould they…. I could nnnnever…” he stammered as thoughts and images swirled around inside his head. Clutching Ethan’s shirt as if it was a life preserver “I want to go home. Please!”

“We’re going home. I promise,” Ethan kept his voice carefully controlled knowing his anger would only increase Jonah’s mounting anxiety and panic. Helping Jonah to his feet Ethan could tell he was close to shutting down.

Jonah leaned heavily upon Ethan as if drawing energy from him or like he was walking for the first time. “How could they think I could do something like that,” shivering from a deep cold that wasn't just from the temperature in the room. “I could never do that…”

“I know baby,” Ethan soothed, opening the door into the hall thankful that Jonah’s interrogator was nowhere in sight. He doubted he’d have been able to refrain from punching the man.

A door opened somewhere down the hall. Loud angry voices carried down to them, making Jonah to cower against the wall trembling, his lips moving. Ethan couldn’t make out the words he was saying highlighting how close to the edge the nights events had pushed him. Talking slow and soft “honey I’m going to carry you out of here. Then you and I are going home.” He knew better than to touch him before making his intentions known. In this state any unexpected movement or touch could trigger a meltdown or an attack that would require an emergency trip to the hospital. The last thing Ethan wanted to have happen.

A couple of minutes passed before Jonah nodded “okay,” he whispered, his chest moving in labored breaths as he fought to remain in control.

Holding Jonah's face gently in his hand, Ethan disliked the way Jonah's eyes looked, they were too large, too glossy. “Just look at me. Listen to my voice” he said “nothing else matters. It’s just you and me. We’re the only two people in the room.” Slowly he put his arms around him, waiting a moment before picking him up, making sure he was okay.

Jonah tensed the moment he felt his feet leave the floor. Whimpering a little he closed his eyes listening to Ethan’s voice telling him what he was doing and where they were going. Wrapping his arms around his neck he buried his face in his husband's shoulder, kissing the side of his neck.

They left the building in this slow process where Ethan explained what he was doing and where they were. “We’re at the car. I need to put you down now so we can go home.” At his words he felt Jonah’s arms tighten around him. He waited for his momentary panic to subside “it’s going to be alright. I’m here. We’ll wait until you’re ready.”

Slowly Jonah released his hold round Ethan’s neck letting himself be lowered to the ground. “I’m okay,” he whispered even though he felt he had been caught in a nightmare. One where he was cast as the monster when the monster was lurking just out of sight and he was the only one who could see him.

Twenty minutes later Ethan helped him from the car in front of their house. Other than some muelling sounds Jonah hadn’t said anything since leaving the police department. Frowning he wondered if maybe it would have been better to go to the hospital. “Babe maybe we should…”

“No! Please,” grabbing Ethan’s hand, Jonah cried “you promised we’d go home. I want to go home.”

Gathering him into his arms pressing his lips to the top of his head., Ethan said, “we are home. You’re safe. At home.” He could feel Jonah’s body shudder in his arms. “When we get inside I’ll run you a nice warm bath,” he soothed.

A heart wrenching sob came from the quivering form in his arms. The sound was like a knife to his heart. Pressing his lips close to Jonah’s ear “I love you babe No matter what I love you.”

When the front door opened and Brendan saw Ethan carrying Jonah inside and kick the door closed with his foot he knew something bad had happened. His mouth fell open but the sharp shake of Ethan’s head had him snapping it shut.

“Give me a minute,” Ethan said without stopping on his way to the bedroom he shared with Jonah.

A moment later Brendan heard the water running. Whatever happened he’d have to wait to find out. Looking down at his grandson asleep on the couch he picked him up and carried him to his room where the rest of the boys were sound asleep. With Eli in his room Brendan was ready to hear whatever Ethan had to tell him. Eli didn’t need to carry anything more on his young shoulders.

Testing the water Ethan turned to Jonah who hadn’t moved or said anything since he put him down on the bathroom floor. As much as he wanted to talk to his dad he couldn’t leave Jonah in this state. Helping him out of his clothes Ethan then stripped himself knowing that Jonah needed to feel him next to him, skin to skin. It was a comfort thing that usually helped him fall asleep when nothing else would. As he expected Jonah wrapped himself around him, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder. Jonah’s shoulders shook from his silent sobs. Holding him against his chest “I love you,” Ethan said kissing the top of Jonah's head. He knew it wasn’t so much the words as his presence that would comfort and lull him to sleep.

slowly he felt Jonah relax in his arms and the sobs that shook his body tapered off. When the water cooled and Jonah showed no signs of wanting to get out Ethan added more hot water to warm the water to a comfortable temperature, a feat he had perfected using his toes. He continued talking softly to Jonah telling him how much he loved him and how they’d get through this together.

“Jonah,” he said, sensing a difference in his slow, steady breathing and knew he had finally fallen into a deep sleep.

A soft knock announced someone’s presence before the door opened and his dad’s face peeked into the room. “Dad can you grab that towel over there and wrap it around Jonah,” he kept his voice low so as not to disturb Jonah, wanting him to sleep so that he could talk to his dad in private.

Doing as requested Brendan took the large towel and wrapped it around his son-in-law, holding him up so that he didn’t fall backwards into the water as Ethan got out of the tub. “You get dressed,” he said when Ethan turned to get his husband “I’ll take him to your room.” Careful to keep the towel around him knowing that the last thing they needed was for Jonah to wake up and find himself naked in his arms.

Ethan hesitated a moment, half in the tub and half out as Jonah murmured in his sleep. When he settled once more Brendan carried him into the room and laid him in the bed covering him with the blankets.

Ethan followed him a minute or two later damp but somewhat dressed. Taking a moment to check on Jonah before leading the way to the living room. Sitting on the couch Ethan leaned forward rubbing his hands over his face.

“What happened?” Brendan asked “I haven’t seen Jonah like this since that guy broke into the house and tried to kidnap him.”

“Well,” he heaved a sigh “he’s dead now. Murdered.”

“I saw it on the news,” Brendan paused, staring at his son with a horrified expression coming over his face. “Don’t tell me you guys found his body.” That would explain why Jonah was in the state he was in.

Shaking his head, groaning a little, “that would have been better I think.”

“Better,” Brendand exclaimed “what could be worse than that?”

“Being accused of doing it,” Ethan looked up pain in his eyes as he told his dad about their experience at the police station.

“Oh god that poor kid,” Brendan shook his head “no wonder he’s so shattered.”

“I should have taken him to the hospital,” Ethan said sounding close to the edge himself “He kept saying he wanted to go home and I didn’t have the heart to tell him no.”

“You did the right thing,” Brendan assured him, pulling his son close. “The last thing Jonah needed tonight were more strangers asking him questions.”

“I know it’s just he’s so vulnerable right now,” he drew in a ragged breath as he sought to control his emotions.

“I’ll talk to Jonah’s parents, together we’ll come up with something so that Jonah is never alone.” Patting his son’s back “let us help.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he sniffed a little “thanks for waiting up for us.”

“After seeing the news there was no way I wouldn’t wait up.” He thought a moment about cautioning his son to be careful what he said around Eli but changed his mind. He’d do it another time. “You know this might be a good thing.”

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Now Jonah doesn’t have to worry about that guy showing up here and watching him. He’s safe now.”

“Yeah I guess he is,” Ethan agreed “I hadn’t thought of that. I hope once Jonah realizes it too that he won’t feel compelled to hide in the house.”

“Let’s worry about that after the babies come,” Brendan yawned. “I think you and I had better go to bed ourselves. Mind if I sleep on your couch?”

“Go for it,” Ethan grinned. “You can tell me how comfortable it is. I haven’t had a chance to test it.”

“That’s a good thing,” he chuckled “it means you haven’t been in the dog house yet.”

Previous/Next

#eli reagan #jonah reagan #ethan o'neil #brendan o'neil #ts4 #eclipse #simblr #sims story #tw murder

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wisps-writes-fic · 22 days ago

Text

For the beautiful, wonderful, and so very talented @roriannesmoon

Ship: Michael “Robby” Robinovitch x Jack Abbot x Fem OC

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: After making it through life as a beta for twenty-five years, her late presentation was the last thing she expected to upend her life. Thankfully there are two alphas willing to help with such an adjustment.

AN: Every fandom needs omegaverse, so here we are.

CW: Polyamory, smut, praise kink, age gap, soft dom robby, shenanigans typical of omegaverse fic (knotting and the like), dub-con in the sense most heat fics are dub-con

Chapter I

Hailey

Hailey knew something was wrong deep down. Or at least changing. It started with the clinginess, in a hurry to help with tasks when Robby got home and curling up in his lap the moment he settled for the night. He didn’t seem to hold it against her. Never showed annoyance, despite clearly being exhausted after each shift. But he’d always taken good care of her.

Still, being needy was easy for her to ultimately ignore—for him to find amusement in. It was days later, noticing the steady gathering of blankets and pillows in her apartment and the fact his “borrowed” sweatshirts were never washed and returned as per usual, that Robby began to suspect the reason for her behavior and finally called out what she hadn’t been willing to consider.

“I am not an omega." One hard look and she was scrambling to deny it further. "I'm twenty-five, Robby,” she protested, suddenly tempted to shrug out of what might have been the last hoodie her boyfriend owned. “I would have presented almost a decade ago.”

“Delayed presentation is rare, but not impossible. I suspect a few more days and you’ll go into your first heat.” She blanched at that, turning away before he could see her flush at the thought. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetheart. Perfectly natural and no one will think less of you for it.”

“None of your colleagues, maybe. There are plenty of people beyond that with something shitty to say. It’s hard enough making it as an artist without designation bias.”

He huffed, pulling her into his lap so she couldn’t hide. “Eyes here,” he ordered, raising her chin. “You’ve built yourself considerably over the last few years. Whatever changes this might bring will be brief. I don’t want you stressing over it.”

And with him keeping that reminder on repeat when they were together, she didn’t. ~~~~~

“Good evening.”

Dana, as usual was the first to greet Hailey upon arrival. There were only a few minutes left for the day shift, but she liked chatting with the staff she could. Driving to pick up take out some nights when her boyfriend wrapped things up. “Robby told me not to let you back here if you tried to show up these past couple days. Care to tell me why?” She rolled her eyes, hoping the charge nurse didn’t see right through her lie. “You know Robby. Assumes the worst over a little cough. It’s not a big deal.”

“Right, now try again. Might not be able to put my finger on it, but something’s up with you.” She began to argue, but the instant shift stole her breath. There was no steady build, no warning signs. Just a shock of heat flooding her very veins. Aside from the obsessive nesting and new need for physical contact, nothing else had surfaced to show her heat cycle was coming on. She figured the hour she’d be out of the house was no problem. “Shit, kid. Come on. Staff lounge,” Dana ordered. “Before some asshole alpha clocks you. Princess, page Robby.”

“On it.”

“No. He’s busy, I’m fine,” she tried to lie. “Please don’t.”

A horrid cramping set in and she nearly doubled over. “Yeah, sure thing,” a new voice groused. Of course Jack had to come in early and seen her acting a fool. “I’ll get her over there, Dana. Just track down Robby. Night shift can handle whatever he’s wrapping up.” Hailey leaned into him the second he took her from the charge nurse and for once she didn’t care how it looked—didn’t care if they were seen like this, should someone come down the short hallway. God, his scent was going to drive her crazy. “How long have you known this was coming, Hails?”

“Uh, few days, I guess.”

“And you weren’t waiting it out at home?” He shook his head, resuming the walk down to the staff lounge. “Sweetheart, you have got to take care of yourself. Do you know how many alphas are on the staff?” She blinked back at him, waiting for his words to sink in. “Too many. And half of them don’t have enough restraint to walk away from an omega in their first heat.”

Hailey could only imagine how she looked, flushed with the sudden fever, pupils blown. Even mid-scolding it was a struggle not to lean over and bury her nose against his scent gland. “Shit. C’mere, baby.” She scrambled to obey, straddling his thigh in her hurry to nuzzle close. “What I should do is put you over my knee. Certainly earned it,” he grumbled, gripping her by the waist before she could so much as think to grind down on him. Locked in place she could feel the slick already coating her panties. “But I think I’ll leave that to Robby this time.”

“Mean,” she panted, not entirely opposed to either one of them taking her in hand. “Jack, I’m scared. I always keep control of myself. I won’t be able to.”

“Oh, sweet girl. Hailey, you know he’ll take care of you.”

The door swung open before she could respond to his attempt at consolation. And there Robby stood, brow pinched, arms crossed, clearly caught between worry and frustration. It was no surprise when he cracked, crossing the space in a few steps to take her from Jack’s hold. There would likely be another lecture at some point, but for the moment her comfort seemed to be his priority.

She had her arms and legs locked around him in an instant, once again seeking out that newly addictive scent her alpha carried. “Purr?” she whispered as he sat on the edge of the table. Everything happening, each urge and change and pain was unfamiliar territory, but instincts were developing just as quickly as the rest of it. He’d never purred for her before, but she already knew it would mellow the overwhelming sensations coursing through her.

He kissed her hair, granting her request even if it was broken by clipped conversation.

“Fuck. I never requested the rest of the week. I’ll put it in the system now and—”

“Don’t. I’ll be fine.” Hailey had no illusions the rest of his coworkers wouldn’t eventually put two and two together, but she really didn’t want them coming to that conclusion while she was out of it, or giving Robby any shit for taking extra time in the unlikely event the staff who hadn’t seen her didn’t end up putting things together. “By then I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t. Especially not during your first heat,” Jack said from his place in the chair. “But the extra time on such short notice might not be approved, explanation or none. My long break is right after yours.” He paused. “Wouldn’t be the first time I filled in regarding your girl. What do you say, Hails?”

He was right about it being a familiar arrangement. Jack had joined them in bed before—most often with Robby present, but that wasn’t to say he never had his fill of her after his shift when Robby had already left. There really was no question when it came to his place in their dynamic. Still, while neither of them intimidated her, there was an undeniable vulnerability when it came to an omega’s heat. But this was Jack they were talking about. And after the way she’d reacted to his scent and touch mere moments ago… “I’d—Yes, I’d appreciate that.” However they were keeping from being awkward about this, she was eternally grateful.

He rose from the chair with a nod, stooping down to press a kiss to her temple. “Get her home and settled in her nest, Robby. I’ll pick up the slack here.”

“Thank you.” Pushing off the table, Robby followed him out, splitting away to take an exit that wouldn’t require them to pass the nurses’ station. At least she was spared that mortification. “Where’d you park, sweet girl?” he asked, fishing the keys out of her crossbody.

“Next lot, I think. West entrance.”

Quickly spotting the vehicle in question, he made short work of getting her buckled in and adjusting the driver’s seat to suit his height. “Couple minutes, Hailey,” he soothed, resting a hand over her thigh to keep a point of contact through the short drive to their complex. Trusting him to get them where they needed to be, she stopped fighting the crawling heat, focus on breathing through the throbbing ache low in her belly. “Almost there, sweetheart,” he said a moment later. “Just parking.”

Robby didn’t let her protest being carried up. Thankfully they were only on the second floor. Two minutes later he had her stripped down to her underwear and got her settled in her nest, taking the place beside her without moving anything out of place, scrubs tossed aside in his rush to help her. “Dropping by a hospital packed with alphas was not your best idea,” he grumbled, shifting to sink down in the cradle of her thighs. She whimpered, feeling the hard line of his cock up against her. “But sitting here alone and refusing to call me to help before I was due home would have been a worse one, so I’ll forgive it.”

She didn’t deny the accusation. He and Jack took care of her, but that didn’t mean putting herself first wasn’t still a work in progress.

“Ugh. Lecture later. Need—” She choked, a full shudder working through her the moment those two fingers slipped beneath her panties. Feeling him press up against her slick gland, coherency was a forgotten thing. “Please.”

What exactly she was begging for wasn’t much of a mystery. He could touch and tease her a dozen different ways to dull the need coursing through her, but only one thing would fully satisfy it. “Soon,” he promised, but seemed in no hurry to deliver even as he removed the soaked crap of cotton. “Breathe, honey. I’ll give you what you need when you’re ready for it.”

His hand reclaimed its place between her legs, those same two slowly curling until she trembled beneath him while he moved down the bed, finally stopping when he could brace her thighs over his shoulders. “Robby—”

Even with his intentions so clearly presented, the wet heat of his mouth over her clit was a shock through her system. “Fuck,” she hissed, gripping the fabric beneath her until her knuckles paled. She could already feel the increase in slick, wetting the sheets, surely soaking Robby’s beard—not that he seemed to mind it. “More.”

The word was barely more than groan, but her hand shifting to the back of his head must’ve gotten the demand across. Gripping her thighs a little tighter, he dragged his tongue up her center, a man entirely devoted to his task. A few strokes of his thumb over her clit and she was riding the edge in half the time it would have taken without the heat affecting her body. “That’s it, baby.” The slightest scrape of his nail was the hair trigger. Habit alone had her biting her lip to keep from crying out. Never did she hate living in a complex more than that moment.

That first orgasm left her reeling. Enough that she didn’t register Robby discarding the last scraps of clothing between them. Wasn’t fully present until she felt his mouth on hers, the taste of slick lingering—and not entirely unpleasant. “With me again?”

She nodded. “Achy, Alpha.”

“I know. I know, sweet girl. Doing so well for me. Just need filled up, don’t you?” He tilted his head, nipping her earlobe before skimming his teeth across her neck. “Need a knot.”

“Please, Robby.” He slid a hand down between them, thumbing one nipple along his way, a different kind of heat running through her with that brief contact. A second longer and he was sliding into place, pushing deep enough for his knot to graze. “Oh, God. More. Need more.”

Eyes fluttering shut, she could only feel the slight shift in his weight before his hand was in her hair and his mouth was on hers again, muting the whimper brought on by the next roll of his hips. “Such a good girl,” he groaned when they parted. His hands fell again, bending her legs just enough to sink a little further. The first true taste of his knot since the start of all this. She’d taken before. Though it had certainly taken more preparation before she could produce true slick. She’d enjoyed it. But she’d never needed it. She couldn’t hold back the growl of frustration. “Hailey—”

“Stop teasing.”

He chuckled, though it sounded strained like he was just as close to the edge. “Alright, sweet girl,” he agreed, each thrust of his hips building in pace. Finally, his knot locked inside of her. She came with a sharp cry, the mounting heat and pressure melting into what she knew would be an all-too-brief satisfaction, feeling him spill inside of her. “Christ,” he groaned, face tucked into her neck for a long moment before he pressed a soft kiss there and rolled them so he wouldn’t have to worry about keeping his weight off of her. “Alright, sweetheart?”

She grumbled something only half-coherent and he chuckled fondly. “I’ve got you.”

She didn’t realize she’d started to doze until Robby tried to slip out from beneath her. “No.”

“Just going to grab a few things. I’ll only be a minute,” he promised.

Kissing the back of her hand, he slipped out of her hold only to return a moment later with a wet cloth and water bottle. “Fuck,” she hissed, clear headed enough to finally register just how much of a mess she looked—and how much of the bedding was soaked with her slick.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed, Hailey,” Robby soothed. “Take it easy.” Gentle, but efficient, he cleaned the worst of the mess and adjusted things so she was sitting at a partial incline to drink the water he offered. Her half-hearted pout was the first thing he acknowledged. “You can fix your nest in a few minutes, little one. Right now you need fluids. I doubt I’ll be able to get much in you when the worst of it comes on.”

She huffed at that. “A doctor before all else, aren’t you?”

“Doctor, alpha. You can blame it on what you’d like, as long as you’re drinking.” Too tired to argue, she did as she was told. “Good girl,” he offered when she handed back the empty glass. As always, the words were a balm to any tension or worry she held. “Get settled back in and rest while you can. I’ll be right here with you.”

#the pitt hbo #the pitt #fanfic #the pitt fanfiction #dr. jack abbot x oc #Dr. Robby x OC #omegaverse #a/b/o #once a poly ship writer always a poly ship writer #polyamory #first heat

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rexisan · 8 months ago

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jaytim prompt: Tim buys/ builds Jay his own personal library with all his favorite books. Yes basically that scene from beauty and the beast.

Okay so. I kinda went off for one. For two, your second ask? That might become a fullblown THING. So I'mma wait. But here you go, have Tim being a bowerbird.

Hiding what he was doing had been a pain in the fucking ass. In more ways than one but in some of the others he wasn't complaining. But keeping Jason away from the Nest long enough to get it done was, annoying.

But it was done. And Tim… Tim totally wasn't putting it off. No, course not. Not like he poured his heart and soul and maybe lowkey learned how to wood carve just for this specific purpose. He's Tim Drake he's not afraid. No he's petrified. He's made Jason a sanctuary in his own home. He carved and picked out the glass for the one bookshelf where he knew Jason would want to keep his rarest most loved books. He only wished he could get natural light in here but this is Gotham and if the sun ever shown Tim is pretty sure most of them would catch fire. Himself first and probably worst.

He figured out Jason's favorite leather and favorite fabrics, he found, read paid an artisan the asking price doubled, a chair with Jason's measurements in mind because he's built like a masculine monolithic linebacker that Tim doesn't ever want to look away from, so he got the chair big enough for him to curl up in. And blankets with his favorite colors with his favorite textures. And lights that simulate the sun so he can attempt to get the natural light he knows Jason likes to read by. With carpets that absorb the noise and everything feels warm and cozy and is HYPOTHETICALLY perfect.

Tim wasn't putting it off at all. Because this isn't basically a marriage proposal. His thumbnail has made its way back into his mouth, he needs to stop that. But he's staring at the innocuous door and spiraling. He knows each bookshelf, each book, where is it, the only ones that are missing are Jason's personal ones. He began to pace, thumbnail in his mouth again, seriously he needs to stop that's blood dammit, he froze as his eyes landed on the cameras seeing fucking Jason in the upstairs on his way down. His wonderful, awful, oft praised brain fucking freezes. Why the FUCK is he here?

Tim stands in front of the door staring at the cameras, mind going everywhere and nowhere as Jason comes into the room.

"There you are prettybird," Jason cooed. "Been looking for you for a minute. Had to ask Babs where you'd gone."

Tim looked over at Jason and slowly blinked trying to come to terms that Jason was here, the library was done, and Jason was HERE.

"Babybird?" Jason squinted as he came over. "You alright?"

Tim jumped and pulled his thumbnail from his mouth, yep that's bleeding, he hid his thumb in his fist, "Uhm, I have, something for you?"

Jason raised an eyebrow leaning down to kiss his forehead, oh there's the butterflies, he loved this man more than anything in the world.

"And what would that be my birdie?" Jason pulled back and saw the door. The door that was very much not there the last time he was here. "You didn't make a sex dungeon did you?"

"What? No, no uhm," Tim stepped aside and motioned to it. "Just, ah, open it."

He gave him a look and Tim's eyes were resolutely not looking at him, but Jay shrugged it off and opened the door. And his heart stuttered.

A library, nothing massive, but the walls were lined with shelves, the carpeted floors were a rich burgundy, the lights bright enough to see but dim enough to feel warm and cozy, the far back wall had the most gorgeous inlaid case, cherry wood hand carved, glass glittering in the light, and in front of it the biggest chair and footrest he'd ever seen. A blanket was draped across the back and it looked like the softest thing he'd ever touch. And best of all? The shelves, minus the ones behind the glass, were full of books, some more worn than others. He went inside and stared, almost afraid to touch. Tim trailed behind silently. There was aside table with a fucking old CD and tape playing radio because Tim knew how much he'd like to listen to his CD's and tapes while reading.

"You… you did this?" Jason asked awe in his voice as he reached out to pick up Paradise Lost.

"Yeah, uhm, surprise?" Tim said weakly, trying not to stick his fucking thumbnail back in his mouth.

"It's beautiful, it's perfect?" Jason looked at him. "You did this for me?"

Tim cocked his head, "Of course? You… you deserve this Jason. More really, but I couldn't get some of the things and I've redone that damn cabinet five times and if I do it a sixth I think I will dismantle the tools I used to carve it."

Jason slowly put the book back moving quickly while Tim was glaring at the cabinet like he was picking out all the flaws even though it was perfect and Tim was the one that made it, taking his birdies face in his hands he kissed him so tenderly.

"I love you," Jason sighed against his lips. "Even if you're a bower-bird, I do feel very wooed."

Tim blushed deeply and his his face in his hands, "Please shut up."

"Nah, you like my mouth too much," Jason chuckled and kissed his head. "Can't wait to read with you in here."

"I did make sure the chair was big enough for both of us," Tim mumbled.

"Good bird."

#my writing #jaytim #batfam #drabble #jason todd #tim drake

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ultrakill-confessions · 1 month ago

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Violence layer annon has inspired me to share my own interpretation of Hell and Minos's relationship. So thank you for making me finally write this out. :]

Most if not all of this is pure headcannon, but to me, one of the most interesting things about a city in Hell is that everyone has their own personal Hell.

That is, Hell is not a physical location that is the same for everyone in it. Hakita has confirmed this in the first dev stream. (in 3-1 i think?)

I take this to mean Hell as a location is weird and dreamlike and changes based on who is observing it and their sins in life.

So how the fuck do you even begin to make a city there? Everyone is going to be encountering their own personal hazards and geography, which would make civic planning a god damn nightmare. Try and make a train connecting two elivated cities, and for a quarter of the people there, the tram just clips through a wall. Makes a funny g-mod noise, but also makes a huge mess.

So. If you are Minos, how do you make Hell calm the fuck down so you can build a city out of its flesh?

Why, you make a deal with the devil, of course! Or skip the middle man and make a deal with the hostile architecture itself. Hell already has your soul. What's the worst that can happen?

(Hell cackles quietly to itself. It already has a few ideas.)

But what would Hell even want? What is something (aside from your size) you have that we have not seen a single other husk possess? And what is something Hell has that no other character does so far?

Eyes.

Minos in his portrait wears a blindfold, which could just be a nod to justice being blind and im overthinking it. But I'm pretty sure the floodlight eyesockets of his corpse imply he had eyes at some point. And now he does not.

(Which also could be why Hell's eye is fucked up. It was never meant to have eyes, but now it has two. so it just consolidated them together and did a shit job.)

For all the resources and transportation and stability his city would ever need, Minos did not sell his soul. But he sold the windows to them.

(Hell enjoys looking through said windows at the dilapidated dream of Hell's greatest visionary. Minos was certainly entertaining, but his punishment has gotten as stale as his corpse. It sends out the objective to a few more machines, idly wondering which of the children of man will be the one to fell their long extinguished beacon.)

- 667Anon

#ultrakill confessions #ultrakill #minos #hell itself #long post #667anon

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itsabouttimex2 · 1 year ago

Text

What kind of yandere are they?

Explanations below/Click for higher res

MK has been through so very much. The glamour of being a hero wore off quick, leaving him with many insecurities and doubts. Giving him someone innocent and kind to protect stabilizes him somewhat, but makes him more vicious in an effort to ensure their safety.

Sun Wukong thinks as something worth protecting. You give him a purpose and a good reason to dust off his old bones and return to fighting- all he asks in turn is that you stay on Flower Fruit Mountain with him. And the world getting it’s greatest hero back is a worthy trade for your lack of freedom, isn’t it? (The most likely to kidnap you, tied with Macaque.)

Ne Zha uses you as motivation for his fervent service. If the celestial realm has you, then it’s clearly worth protecting. If someone so good and kind resides there, then why should he waver in his duty? This extends to personal fights in your name- he rarely comes out unbloodied.

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The Mayor keeps a close on eye on you, always watching from the shadows. You probably have a tie to the Lady Bone Demon in some way, an heir to her blood or powers. He cultivates your misery by pulling strings and arranged misfortunes- the fact that no one stops him or saves you is proof enough (to him) that the world is rotted to the core. Proof that it needs to be destroyed. Proof that you need something, or someone better- maybe him?

You justify the Lady Bone Demon’s ideals. She watches as you suffer and break, your kind soul perpetually punished for good deeds and unyielding optimism. If you trust people, they betray you. If you help people, they hurt you. Your life is proof to her that the world is cruel, and needs to be wiped clean. So she obsessively watches from afar, her mind constantly plagued with thoughts of you, and thoughts of ending your suffering. (The most manipulative yandere on this list.)

Azure Lion sees you cast from the Celestial Realms, thrown out for daring to try and improve the lives of mortals without approval from the Celestial Bureaucracy. Not only are you a perfect member for his brotherhood (and he will get you to join), but you also reaffirm to Azure what he’s fighting for.

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Zhu Baije is a very flawed man. By his own nature, he’s something of a troublemaker. You work to counteract many of the problems he causes, working hard to ensure that no fissure in the group grows too big. It’s easy to think of you as someone worthy of worship- you seem to have an endless well of patience and kindness. He just wishes that you gave a little less of it to people who aren’t him.

Ao Lie watches you close. He sees how you struggle to pull everyone together even when things are at their absolute worst, and respects your efforts. He sees a person always willing to stand up for other and for what’s right, never allowing yourself to stand idly by. The harder you fight to mend rifts between people, the more admirable you become to him.

———————————————————————

Mei just wants you- she doesn’t bother thinking it through or wondering exactly why. You’re nice and you’re good, so you’re hers. Her parents are fully supportive of her attempts to ‘adopt’ you, and have a room set aside for the day they ‘bring you home’.

Pigsy doesn’t think of his obsession as a hero, warrior, or soldier. He instead views them as a child in need or guidance and protection, the sort who would be benefit nicely from being taken under his wing- likely enlisting Tang and MK to help him corral you into his care. (The most likely to succeed in his goal, tied with Sanzang)

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Princess Iron Fan doesn’t think much of you at first, viewing you as a little more than a disposable pawn. But, to her surprise- you perform far more admirably than expected, so keeping you both alive and close becomes the rational course of action. She gets used to using you, then gets used to you, then wants you. And Iron Fan knows how to get what she wants.

Macaque at first is just using you, stringing you along. He trains you to be more like him, feeds you lies about Wukong and MK, gets you to hate them by filling your head with falsehoods. And somewhere along the line, he ends up getting attached. Instead of getting better, he doubles down on his manipulations, intent on keeping you close. (The most likely to kidnap you, tied with Wukong.)

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Tang Sanzang sees so much potential in you. You’re a feral little thing, tucked away under bushes and baring your teeth at him- a child acting like a wild animal. His holy heart aches for you, thinking of the struggles you must’ve endured through your life. With a pair of heavenly circlets for your wrists, Sanzang inducts you along for his pilgrimage, intent on bettering you bit by bit- by force, if he must.

Expect lots of tutoring and life lessons, all delivered with endless patience and a paternal attitude. Teaching you to read and write and behave might be harder than pulling teeth, but it will be done. Not to mention the four other pilgrims whom he positions as your ‘brothers’, who adore and respect him, each one swayed by his words of what’s ‘best for you’. (The most likely to succeed in his goal, tied with Pigsy.)

Tang probably mirrors Pigsy in his acquiring of a child- he finds some dirty little waif on the streets and takes them in as his own. Something ancient and repeating calls from within him, pushing him to take this little unfortunate thing into his care, to push them to be ever better- an inner voice calling for him to be kind and merciful. And really, who is he to deny such a kind urge?

Master Subodhi is a wonderful judge of character, capable of picking out both the flaws and strengths of a person. You could be troubled and impatient, or rude and reticent. All that matters is there’s true good inside you- however embryonic it may be. Through strict guidance- and with a not insignificant amount of amusement at the shenanigans you cause with his other students- Subodhi manages to slowly molds you into a better and stronger person. Mind you, all of this is through the masterful use of manipulation. Expect his other students to help him reign you in and chip away at your resolve to leave. (The most likely to have an obsession that’s stronger than him.)

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Sandy thinks that you’re simply wonderful. You’ve been a constant supportive force in his life, encouraging his therapy sessions, teaching him how to brew tea, vouching for him to shelters across the city. With your support, Sandy slowly becomes a better person, leaving behind most of his obsessive and possessive behavior behind. There are lingering traces, hints of overprotectiveness and denial of consent, holding you too tight in his arms and not letting go or slipping sleeping pills into your tea… but even those habits lessen in frequency and severity.

That, or you might be a child of his that he wants to be a better role model for. Sandy wants you to be happy! He wants you to be confident! He wants you to have a good dad! So he almost unhealthily works to improve himself, finding positive ways to channel his most toxic and unhealthy traits, hoping to become someone worthy of your love. (The least likely to hurt you.)

Everyone else treats Sha Wujing like a monster, hurling wicked names and cruel words. ‘Demon’ and ‘fiend’, they decree, and Wujing has long internalized their words as truth. He’s plenty happy to act on his learned monstrosity, lashing out at any who draw near- until you come along with a simple compliment and an admission of weakness. You aren’t strong enough to fight, not quick enough to run from him- but you’re kind enough that he doesn’t think to butcher you. Growing obsessed with you amplified some of his worst traits while also teaching him about unconditional love and support, the dichotomy of equal progression preventing any true growth for a time. Once Sanzang comes along, Wujing has to think long and hard on who he is and what he’s done and who he wants to be and what he wants to do- and decides to be better for you.

There aren’t many people that the Demon Bull King cares for, but you’ve managed to worm your way into his stony heart anyhow. It’s awkward to try and be open with someone so squishy and frail, but he makes a token effort to be less intimidating and overbearing so you aren’t as scared. It’s not easy settling you into his family (especially with his son now battling you for his attention), but he’s sure you’ll get used to it eventually. Iron Fan is more on board with your induction than her son, coming to view you as a lovable; if weak, second child. Red Son refrains from outright violence, but is notably icy over the sudden competition for affection. Still, in the strangest of ways- it’s family.

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Chang’e has been alone for a very long time. There’s no real way to know exactly how long, but isolation has taken it’s toll. Is it so bad to want someone to dote on and nourish? No! So you and her should be family! She’s even more insistent if Y/N is leporine in some way- the two of you are meant to be family! A loving lunar goddess and her perfect little lop, together on the moon. To her, it sounds like something out of a fairy tale. It might be more of a saccharine nightmare to her captive, though. (The most capable of keeping Y/N from escaping.)

The Scorpion Queen really just wants a friend, no matter what it takes to get one. Loneliness has gnawed away at her inhibitions and morals, leading her to snatch up the sweetest looking person around and haul them back to her castle. She’s not above using poison to keep you complement, brewing up several blends from her own venom. Paralytics, sedatives, you name it. One quick sting and you’re helpless in the Queen’s arms, ready to be pampered and protected. After she’s done cleaning and patching your new wound, of course.

Kui Mulang has been waiting for his lover for so very long… and then you come stumbling in, wide-eyed and unaware of the dangers that the demon possesses. You’re a funny little mortal, unworthy of having your weak soul devoured- not only would it not expand his lifespan too much, but he fears it might even make him weaker. Instead, he forces you to become a cute little companion/pet and regales you with tales of his lover, filling your ears with descriptions of her beauty and kindness. Don’t get the wrong idea, though- you aren’t making him a better person. He’s just found one single person to not be totally awful to. (The most likely to replace his obsession.)

———————————————————————

Syntax admires your work from afar, picking apart every bit of tech you manufacture. He’ll install dozens of cameras across your home just for the joy of watching you scramble to disable or destroy them. With the sheer volume of spyware distributed, it’s inevitable that you miss at least a few, allowing the spiderized man to maintain constant surveillance. He inducts your work into his own, picking apart the blueprints he’s stolen from you, admiring the many lines of code you’ve written. There’s a new camera in your house each day, slowly stealing away all privacy. The concept of a ‘blindspot’ doesn’t exist in Syntax’s carefully curated world- no closet, corner, or crawl space is safe from his leering eyes. You’re then subjected to 24/7 surveillance, your life becoming an ever-present livestream on the screens of Syntax’s machines. (The least likely to personally interact with his obsession.)

Huntsman has never seen a worthier adversary. You match him blow for blow and thwart his traps at each turn. He has to keep upping the ante as you escape his clutches, an ever evolving quarry worthy of pursuit. The biggest (and only) dilemma he has in regards to his obsession is whether he should taxidermy or cage you. Either way, you’ll make a nice trophy. (The most likely to kill you.)

It takes a saint to gain the Ink Curse’s attention. You have to be the most wonderful goody-two shoes darling in the world, a person who’s mature and rational and kind and responsible and generous and wise and loving. If you can manage all of that, along with having no major character flaws or massive mistakes in your past… then you have their attention. It is the worst prize you could have ever received.

Alternatively, be a child who gets trapped in the scroll. There’ll be a mocking form of pity to every interaction, but the Curse might try to mold you into an equally brutal punisher of sins. After all, what else can you do? You’re stuck, aren’t you? Get used to the company, kiddo. (The most likely to break you.)

Yellowtusk would happily speak with you until all the rivers of the world run dry. The two of you match wits in civil debates, opposing each other’s viewpoints and arguments with fervor. No stakes, no hatred, no grudges- just debate for the sake of debate. You grow together, sharing your wells of knowledge and expanding the breadth of your wisdom side by side. His obsession with you is softer than most, quelled by quick chats and simple skinship - but it’s obsession all the same, waiting to spiral out of control.

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Red Son’s pride is an irrefutable aspect of him. The half-demon views himself as superior to all but a select few- and you, unfortunately, do not fall into that group. Red thinks of you as something akin to a cherished pet, worthy of care and companionship, but not freedom or respect. He could control almost every aspect of your life if he so wanted, but that’s more trouble than he desires. If you behave properly, Red allows you to dress yourself and have a small collection of personal possessions. Also, expect him to personally forge you a tracking collar emblazoned with his family’s insignia. (He truly does care about you- deep, deep, deep down in his heart. But you’re still lesser than him.)

If you happen to be his sibling, though, his treatment of you becomes more bearable. He’s still insanely possessive and domineering, but there’s more respect for you as a person.

The Spider Queen also thinks of you as a pet, a cute little thing to dress up and lock in chains. You make the most wonderful decoration for her throne room, shaking in the corner with a shackle clasped around your wrist. Everything you wear is produced from her own silken webs, everything you eat is caught and killed with her own two hands. If you step too far out of line, expect your next meal to be the corpse of a loved one.

Peng looks at you with some strange mixture of pity and amusement. (There’s some genuine care in there, but they’d never admit it.) You’re the smallest and youngest of the Brotherhood, with naivety and kindness to match. They find it funny to toy with you in a variety of ways, though they take care to never truly cause harm. Ex: Knocking into you for the sole purpose of tripping you up, biting back laughs as you apologize for ‘not paying attention.’ Peng will ‘forgive’ what you perceive as a personal mistake, hauling you up and dusting you off before sending you on your way. You’re a fun toy. A devoted sibling. A cute little time-killer. And, somehow- the person they cherish above all else.

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