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monochromemedic · 3 years

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I had been stuck in the Dark World for who knows how long. The days didn’t seem to matter down here. No sun, no moon, just the vibrant green grid that coated the sky that would twitch and surge with occasional frequency. When I first got here, I fought hard to get back to the surface, to fight for any sense of normalcy, for home but after a while the dream began to fade. The options began to run dry when compared to the dangers that surrounded me. And so I settled. I survived. I searched for food, begged for shelter from kind Darkners. I did what I had to to live. The Queen was not an option. Whispers from Darkners told me how I was just what she was looking for, that would help her expand her reign to the Light World. As much as that would probably help me, I didn’t want to ruin the lives of others for the chance to see my family, as much as I missed them with every passing minute. The sound of bustling cars and the blinding lights of neon signs stung my senses, my palms pressing into my eyes to drown out what I could. Damn it this place never slept did it? There was always something, some sort of noise. Whatever bags I had under my eyes were probably made cartoonishly drastic with the lack of pure rest I was getting. ‘Supose it was better then being dead... My body felt heavy, and I knew I’d have to find a place to rest or I’d fall asleep mid crossing of a road and get run over by one of those goofy cars I’d seen. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad... I recalled the time one of the car’s rear bumped into a fire hydrant (or at least I thought it was) and made a squeaking sound. The darkness of a certain alley called to me, the silence a sweet lullaby to the roaring around me. Was it dangerous? Oh yeah. Was it stupid? No shit. Was I going to do it? The shadows the engulfed me were perfect and if it wasn’t for the underlying stench of garbage it’d probably be ideal. Still beggars couldn’t be choosers and if tonight was good enough I would have to consider having this as my permanent sleeping spot. My back slid against the cool wall across from the dumpster, eyes half lidded as they read the advertisements littering above. Why the hell did the Queen have ads anyway, if she wanted she could monopolize any products she wanted... Despite the quiet I couldn’t shake the feeling that creeped down my spine. The presence of something other then myself around me. I tried to close my eyes, I was in the city after all. It’d be concerning if I didn’t feel like people were one second from crawling up my ass. Though I had to admit I didn’t expect to actually feel something begin to touch me. My eyes snapped open, elbow prodding into a blurry shape that yelped and tumbled backward, it’s grasp my on shoulder tearing a hole in my already worn shirt in the struggle. “Hey! What the hell?!” I barked, standing over the perpetrator. My shoulders slumped when I saw what looked to be a doll staring up at me with wide eyes, an over exaggerated smile permanently spread across it’s face. The creature’s jaw opened wider with a clack, it’s small body shooting upwards to stand on it’s small pointed feet. “WOAH WOAH WOAHAH- [Live worms]!” The darkner’s voice was deafeningly loud, a shrill tone that cut the air like newly sharpened blades. “ I THOUGHT YOU WERE [Roadkill]. NICE TO KNOW I WON’T BE [Sleeping with the fishes] T0NIGHT!!” Well he had a certain way of speaking that was obvious. What the hell was going on with him, he talked like he was constantly being cut of random clips of other people speaking. He talked like a youtube poop or any other shitpost that would randomly shove memes into them for a quick laugh. “You thought I was dead? I was just... I was... uh.” I looked around me, eyeing the dirt and debris. “I was... going to sleep... here.” Dammit, telling people I had to sleep in such ratty places were always a blow to the ego but I suppose it was better then saying ‘Oh I was just sitting down here to die’ The puppet shook his head and waltzed over to the dumpster, his small hand smacking the side with a sense of pride. “ [Finders keepers, losers weepers] HUMAN, YOU PICKED A GOOD SPOT. TOO BAD [so sadd] I GOT HERE FIRST. THOUGH FOR A DEAL I SUPPOSE I COULD [Share the love~]” “Got here first... what are you talking about?” The Darkner let out a laugh, distorted echoes filling the air as he leapt inside, a solitary hand popping out to beg me to come closer. This was a terrible idea, but despite my best judgement I followed, and witnessed what I could only describe to be a makeshift bed inside. The puppet laid on top of musty mats and raggedy rugs, a single stained pillow resting just beneath his head. My god was he living in here? The creature continued his laugh, lurching only a few inches away from my face. “ [Sweet deal] ISN’T IT? J3ALOUS, [baby]?” I shirked back, cheeks reddening at the tone of his last word. I was most defiantly not jealous, in fact I was filled with remorse, something his pride did not help with. “It’s... uh something. I guess this means I’ll have to find another alleyway um, sorry for bothering you-” “SPAMTON.” “What?” His hand shot out towards my chest, fingers wiggling for a handshake. “SP-SPA MTON G SPAMTON, [Number 1 rated salesmen 1997]” He announced, an extra flair of bravado laced his titled. His hand was surprisingly warm for what it was made of but nothing that would be described as body temperature. “Jenna. Also 1997.” “WHAT A YEAR. LISTEN LIGHT nER, I AM DEALSMAN [yes/no?]” “Um... y-yes? I don’t-” “THEN LET ME MAKE A DEAL YEAH? FOR ONLY [many] KROMER, YOU MAY STAY IN MY [Privately owned] ALLEY. IT’S A REAL [steal] YOU’RE ROBBING ME [deaf] HERE!” My brows furrowed as I searched his face for any context clues for what the hell he was trying to say. Kromer? What the fuck was ‘kromer’? The only thing I knew of currency down here was dark dollars not kromer... even if he did ask for dark dollars he didn’t name a price, he just said many. And the amount of dark dollars I had was zero. “Uh I don’t have kromer. I don’t even have dark dollars I’m kinda broke Spamton, in case you couldn’t tell from uh...” I trailed off realizing saying that sleeping in an alley wasn’t a very smart thing to say to someone who slept in an alley. He seemed surprised by my words, beginning to tug on my coat, flipping my pockets to see if I was really lying. I had to push his mitts off me a couple of times, to which he eventually got the idea the way his hands began to rub at his extended jaw. “NO KROMER... WHAT CAN YOU DO?” “What do you mean?” He seemed to sense my change in tone, his grin beginning to wobble nervously “[Whoopsie daisy!] LET ME START AGAIN. DO YOU HAVE A [trade]? A [skill] TO [Exchange for goods and services]?” he croaked. I eyed the ground, rubbing the back of my neck. What the hell was I good at again? “I mean, I can draw, I suppose...” “ARTIST? WOW OWOW!” Spamton’s face lit up before digging in the dumpster, pulling out a few napkins and a ball point pen and shoving them into my hands. “WHAT A [trade] TELL YOU WHAT. YOU DRAW A [one-of-a-kind masterpiece] AND YOU CAN STAY THE NIGHT!” “You’ll let me stay... if I draw something for you on this napkin. Am I getting that right?” The doll nodded feverishly, basically hovering over my shoulder as I played with the pen. This was certainly the weirdest way to pay someone that I could imagine... well no but one that was in the realm of reality. I had to ask Spamton to give me some space a few time, the feeling of his breath on my neck making me more then nervous as I drew. God he was like those kids in school that would ask for drawings but ten times worse with the amount of personal space he’d give you. Besides I needed something to draw and with nothing on the mind why not draw the most interesting thing in front of me. I held the finished doodle out to Spamton only to have it snatched out of my fingers so fast I swore we could have started a fire. “WOAH...” The puppet sank inside of the dumpster, his face softening as for once in what seemed like forever the alley way grew silent. “THIS IS... ME?” “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t know what to draw, you kind of put me on the spot. Besides everyone likes drawings of themselves right?” I shrugged, being pulled away from my thoughts by an overdramatic sniffle. Was he... crying? Not quite, just damn well close. Spamton’s shoulders quaked as a warm smile returned to his cheeks, slipping the napkin into his pocket with glee. “SO GOOD... THANK YOU.” “It’s really nothing, honestly that was a pretty shitty drawing.” “WHAT? YOU’RE [&#!^]ING ME! THAT WAS [BIG SHOT]” He was screaming again, hands gesturing wildly about. “It wasn’t but thank you. I wish I was better to be honest. I’m not very happy with my art, not at all.” I turned away from his gaze, unsure of why I was overcome by a choking sensation building my throat. Why the hell was I telling this stranger this sort of stuff anyway? I mean I could hazard a guess it was the fact that this was the longest conversation I had had with anyone since I had gotten down here but with how things were it could be some magic power the doll possessed to tell him my deepest darkest secrets. “YOU DON’T THINK THIS IS [Big?]” “No.” “WHY NOT?” “I don’t know. I just... I think it doesn’t look the way I want it to. Doesn’t look good to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. Which I guess is a little funny considering how long I’ve been drawing. Just keep... drawing and drawing and never improving, least not how I’d like. It’s just garbage to me.” Spamton’s face seemed to fall, his glasses fading to a dark inky black. “YOU FEEL? NO GOOD AT WHAT YOU DO? YOUR [passion]?” “Yeah.” A laugh ripped from his chest, his head lolling back with each chuckle. I felt my soul began to crack, a shame flooding my body with how hard he seemed to laugh. Did he find this funny? Humorous? I felt tears prick my eyes as I snapped my head back to glare at him, his head glitching back to stare back at me. “YOU’RE JUST LIKE ME, JENNA. A [slime] A REAL [slime]!” With a quick motion the puppet jumped to the ground, his hand resting against my arm as he spoke. “YOU’RE A REAL [BIG SHOT] YOU KNOW THAT? STAY AS LONG AS YOUR [Greasy little heart] DESIRES!” Well... that was unexpected. He’d really let me stay here as long as I want cause I was pathetic? Or did he just feel sorry for me? What was going on? And why was he calling me a slime... or us a slime? “Oh... uh thanks? I didn’t think I was being much of a big shot whatever that is but I apricate it. Really.” His head clacked with every little nod, leading me to a pile of cardboard boxes and patting them with the grace of a car salesman. “BEST [Seat in the house] ALL FOR YOU. [Night night forever]!” Spamton beamed, awkwardly swaying side to side before stumbling back to the dumpster a few inches away and crawling inside of it, much like a wild animal. I couldn’t help but laugh a little. This guy was weird. Kinda creepy but also kind of funny. I honestly couldn’t pinpoint a feeling on him but at least he didn’t want to hurt me just make weird ass deals and make me ‘big’. Did that mean famous? Was this guy so into my art he wanted to be some sort of manager? I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, the excitement of the day finally beginning to fade. God I forgot how tired I was, that little guy made me feel like I was gonna go into fight or flight. “Hey Spamton?” “YES?” his voice echoed from inside the metal container. “...Thank you.”

#self insert #spamton #vent #idk im just thinking #just wanted something to do

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ootahime · 3 years

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analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga p2

part 1 is here :3

this post includes more excruciatingly long paragraphs so grab urself something and enjoy LOL

chapter 40

i know they’re not interacting in this panel but i still want to bring it up. i’m gonna give some context to this scene in case someone needs to jog their memory. so basically, mei’s ability to command crows is what allows the staff to observe the students from afar. however, gojo notices that there’s lack of footage where yuuji is and asks mei why that’s so. she tells him that they’re animals at the end of the day so she can’t control what they look at. he doesn’t believe her so he asks her whose side she’s on (for yuuji’s execution vs against yuuji’s execution) to which she responds with, “whose side? i’m on the side with money, of course. there’s no value in something that can’t be bought since you can’t exchange that for money.” in other words, she’ll always choose the side that offers her more money because she doesn’t care about how morally “correct” or “incorrect” something is. it’s not worth fighting for a cause that doesn’t benefit her in the long run which is why she views things that are unable to be bought (friendships, relationships, favors) as useless - they can’t be exchanged for money. it’s clear that gojo knows she’s not on his side because he replies with, “spoken from experience!” or “i wonder how much!” (translation varies). he says it out loud to perhaps let gakuganji know that he’s onto him. i find it interesting how utahime is in the panel as well with a “?” to express her confusion at his words. let’s overthink dissect that. why is she there in the first place? if the message was to let gakuganji know that gojo is aware of his ulterior motives then a panel with gakuganji and gojo would have sufficed. why add utahime with a question mark?

here’s a personal headcanon of mine that makes no absolute sense, but who cares? it makes me happy LOL. so let’s examine the panel. gojo’s face is more simplified and cartoonish with a grey background on top and some sort of white bubble surrounding the three characters. gakuganji is staring at utahime and gojo. in the official viz translation, he replies to mei with, “i wonder how much!”

normal and logical explanation: shading the principal by asking out loud how much mei was paid by him to avoid monitoring yuuji.

gojohime brainrot explanation:

mei: “there’s no value in something that can’t be bought since you can’t exchange that for money”

gojo: (in response) i wonder how much utahime’s love would cost if it did have a price.

utahime: ?

you’re probably thinking i’m delulu (true) BUT HEAR ME OUT. IT WOULD SOMEWHAT MAKE SENSE IN THIS CONTEXT...

mei’s saying seems to be what she lives by. relationships, love, friendships, etc. do not matter to her as this is evident when she ultimately abandons everyone in shibuya to escape to malaysia, selling all her stocks before japan’s economy goes down. she doesn’t care about anyone else. she even takes advantage of ui ui’s adoration for her. she contrasts utahime. utahime is loved by her students. children, especially teenagers, are picky when it comes to choosing the adults they admire and respect. while everyone trusts gojo, they do not respect him because of his childishness and overall absurdity. it’s refreshing to see how they always call him an idiot or have a -_- face when he’s around. when akutami says everyone absolutely adores utahime-sensei, it says a lot. we haven’t seen her interact with her students all that much, but she’s obviously close to them because she’s frequently arguing with momo. even a closed off person like mechamaru wanted to keep her away from danger. she most certainly expresses a lot of concern and care for her students, and gojo and her students can pick up on this.

i’ve talked about this in every post LOLOL but there’s a reason why he went to utahime first to help him investigate. utahime is a loyal person through and through. she would never do something that harms the students even if she was offered everything in the world. she values relationships above everything else. besides her concern for the students, how else was i able to come to this conclusion about her character? well, she got shoko to stop smoking because she was worried about how it might damage her friend’s health. from these two details, it’s obvious that she’s the complete opposite of mei.

maybe that’s why he calls her weak. she’s too selfless and compassionate in a world where every sorcerer is for themselves. the world is cruel as a sorcerer. no matter how hard you try to fight, in the end, you’ll always die alone. remember his talk with megumi after the baseball game? after witnessing megumi pull a sacrificial bunt to help his teammates advance, gojo has a talk with megumi about his attitude and potential. he says that being selfless and caring about others is not a bad thing, but in a world like this, where people always die alone, he is wasting his potential by being concerned with others. it’s okay to be selfish. this is why we see fierce independence in a lot of the sorcerers like mei, nanami, and gojo. they each have their own reasons as to why they work alone, but it’s still a common characteristic. i feel like utahime doesn’t have a selfish bone in her body. i speculate that her selflessness is the exact reason why she is being held back. during her mission to exorcise a grade 1 spirit by herself, the final task before being promoted to grade 1, she likely got distracted trying to help civilians out of danger and failed her mission. he’s right when he says she doesn’t have the guts to be the traitor, utahime doesn’t have it in her to do something so boldly solely for her own benefit.

after this long tangent, how does this relate to your headcanon, ootahime?

as you know, love is not transactional. you can’t pay someone to love you. what if gojo is asking himself how much it would cost to buy her love. hence, her confusion because she is oblivious to what he really means. it could be probable because gakuganji is observing not only gojo, but utahime as well. so what gojo says must involve her too, right?

or she could just be confused because his words seem out of place because she is unaware of what gakuganji is doing behind everyone’s back. that explanation makes sense for viz’s official translation but it doesn’t make sense when he says, “spoken from experience!” because his words make sense in that context. he’s basically saying that mei’s beliefs must be based on her past experiences so he understands why she feels this way. that’s an appropriate response to mei’s statement so i don’t see why utahime would be confused by this. unless i’m interpreting this whole scene completely wrong. in that case, whoopsies!

let me know if you’re confused because i’m willing to clarify. idk why but i found this really difficult to explain. maybe because i’m reaching so hard haha

chapter 40

he finds any way he can to tease her. they seem like a married couple watching a movie or something. does he take pride in being the only person she doesn’t get along with? i mean, she says it herself so he is aware she thinks he’s annoying, but he keeps picking on her anyway. he doesn’t even pick on his enemies this much LMAOOO i think the only other person he likes to make fun of is gakuganji but he does so because he doesn’t agree with his views. with utahime it’s different. he trusts her a lot and even looks out for her.

chapter 44

why are there two separate instances of gakuganji observing utahime and gojo’s interactions from afar? nah i’m just playing. he’s just looking because he’s concerned she’ll run into the semi-grade 1 curse he had for yuuji. OKAY BUT I NOTICED SOMETHING KINDA CUTE? whenever utahime says something suddenly, he always has those 3 little triangles near his head. it’s like he’s thinking, “oh! utahime is speaking, i must listen <3″ look at his face too. he’s looking at her like :O

this is also an example of her showcasing her concern for the students in front of gojo. i feel like he questions why she’s so caring because if it were him, he would have left the student to figure it out themselves. i really wonder how she would react if he answered her truthfully when she asked what he’d do if she were the traitor.

chapter 45

there’s not much to say here...they’re just cute. i know it’ll never happen but i’d like to see them fight side by side one day. i’m aware that gojo works best alone but i just want to see how they’d work together, okay? 😔

chapter 45

see the little triangles on his head again? UGH SO CUTE.

chapter 45

IS THIS NOT INTENTIONAL??? they share the same thoughts. he even finished her thought. mannnnnnnnnnnnn what is akutami doing? giving us false hope and stripping it away just for fun? making them work so well together for what??

chapter 52

cute how he looks out for her. i have nothing more to say LOL

chapter 53

notice how they’re sitting across from each other? HEHE

chapter 53

yet another instance of her caring for her students in front of gojo. in the anime she has the cutest expression when she says she’s glad the students are safe. i bet gojo saw that too. i also bet that she looks prettier from his point of view.

extra

from the manga and light novels, gojo and utahime are the ones that talk about sports the most. he most definitely chose baseball to cheer her up. it’s not a coincidence people!

i feel like i had a lot more to say but i completely lost my train of thought while writing this, especially with chapter 40. i’m once again writing this at 4 in the morning LOL........ please please please add on or share your thoughts! thank you for reading and sorry for any mistakes.

#gojohime #gouta #gojo x utahime

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Oh! How about the brothers with a very emotionally open MC? Like, they ain't ashamed to cry or express their emotions because they think that it's healthy to speak about your emotions to others! And they're also really good at telling what people are really feeling. Please and thank you very much! And congrats on 1,500 followers! You deserve it!

The Demon Brothers Reaction to a Very Emotionally Intelligent MC

Let’s be honest, in a game centered around resolving interpersonal family drama, this is kind of what the MC has to be canonically. Also um… I made the decision, for whatever reason, to listen to the Grand Escape by Radwimps while writing this, and uh, it got… deeper than intended. Whoopsie. 😅 I guess that's the hazard when you're so dependent on what you hear to set the tone for what you write… Sometimes you make a questionable decision and you mess up at the foundations 😕 My bad.

BIG, BIG Spoilers for Part One (Lessons 1-20)

Lucifer

To be honest, he took it as a sign of weakness for some time.

Lucifer closes his emotions off to others because he views them as a vulnerability... This is why he wasn't completely surprised that the powerless human they brought to the Devildom was, in his eyes, overly emotional.

They were never afraid to say what they felt, show sadness to others, or even admit their fears… Though he appreciated the honesty, he wrote it off as a sign of human fragility and assumed they wouldn't last long. Not unless they toughened up and started to shut themselves off like him...

But that never happened. And one by one, he watched his brothers get won over by that feeble, emotional mess… He didn't understand it nor did he like it. At one point he even swore to himself that he wouldn't let whatever spell they casted on the others affect him too.

At least, until the attic incident came to light and he finally realized that the human wasn't a mess at all.

When Belphegor escaped and the bombshell that he had been holding finally came to light, he honestly felt lost for the first time in centuries… He didn’t know how to approach the topic, he just wanted to hide away and let it all sort itself out… but they wouldn't let him.

It amazed him how easy it was for the MC to empathize with his brothers and even himself through the whole mess. It was like they knew how everyone felt before they even had to voice it… He loathed to admit it, but for that moment they looked even more composed and capable than he did…

It was their handling of Belphie that really sealed it for him, though. A weak, pathetic, powerless little human talking down a being far beyond their capacity to fight? Then still offering him some comfort in the aftermath? He couldn’t have pulled that off... He’s long since forgotten how.

The MC managed to open his eyes to what emotional strength looked like and, from that point on, he never doubted them again.

Mammon

Mammon's go-to approach to feelings is unconvincing denial and his brothers generally aren't much better... So actually being open and straightforward with one’s feelings is almost a foreign concept to him.

So when the MC got dropped into his life it threw him through a loop. They were willing to just… say what they felt whenever? They’d cry when they needed to, laugh whenever they wanted, and generally tell people how they felt about things openly and honestly? What?

Weren’t they scared of being teased or made fun of? You can’t be that open down in Hell! Demons would take advantage of you!

And yet, the longer he spent with them the more he started to kind of get it… And then he started to genuinely love it.

They didn’t mind when he’d bawl at movies or talked about when his brothers were bothering him… Sometimes he didn’t even need to say anything to them. They’d just see something was off in how he was acting and offer a hug... No questions asked. No shame involved.

It was refreshing. Eye-opening. Hell, even comforting to just be himself for them. Sure, he still had to keep up appearances in front of his brothers to keep from being mocked, but when they were alone? He truly could act however he felt like for the first time in a very, very long time... And he treasured that.

Leviathan

Emotions are… a thing for Levi and not a thing he's that well equipped to deal with either…

So of course, he initially felt envious of the MC when they came down to the Devildom. They had no problem with navigating their feelings. They didn’t mind talking about them or crying or admitting when they were nervous and even worse? They could actually handle it all.

Levi doesn’t tend to make his emotions very secretive either, but when he got into a mood he usually couldn’t dig himself out of it... It doesn’t help that his brothers were so used to his complaining that they’d ignore his self-deprecation rather waste their time contradicting him...

When he first saw them in action, though, he had walked in on them crying, but they didn’t tell him to leave or try to hide their face. They just let him say what he needed to while they let the tears run their course... then explained to him what the problem was later. They weren’t ashamed… Hell, they even looked like they felt better to have it off their chest…

How come he never felt any better after he had his episodes...? Why did he still feel like a worthless piece of shit all the time?? What kind of cheat code did they use for that?! It’s not fair!

Little did he know, talking feelings out to yourself (or your goldfish) is one thing. But talking to someone who actually wants to help is another thing entirely.

The first time he went on one of his rants, the MC just watched him quietly. It was like he was tearing down a house meant for demolition...and then they started picking through the pieces. They didn’t try to shame him hating himself, they just started pulling out things he should love instead. Stuff he never even considered before…

After that point, they became very good at noticing when he was going to a dark place and intervening before he could beat himself down again... After a while, he started leaving his room when he felt that way so he could go find them and talk.

If his mind was an ocean then, for the first time ever, he finally felt like he had a way to weather the storms...

Satan

Didn't trust it, didn't trust them, and thought it was all an act for the longest time...

Satan knows a thing or two about putting up a front, so he's the most skeptical of other people's intentions…

When he first met them and saw open they were with their emotions, he thought it was all some kind of act. Like they were just trying to gain sympathy or lure everyone in so they could manipulate them later… But he wasn't buying it.

While he watched the rest of his brothers fall to their charms, he counted himself lucky as the smart one. He thought he could see the game they were playing and he wouldn't let himself be tricked into it...

… But then the whole book fiasco happened and he found himself around the human more often. Not only did their openness really seem genuine, they actually listened patiently to his complaints about Lucifer, his birth, his rank, his rage... everything. Just nodding along and watching him intently…

After a while, he started to question if they were even listening anymore so he questioned them. Point blank. He wanted to know what they thought and… their answer surprised him.

“I think you want to be your own person.”

To him, that answer came right out of left field. What about any of what he was just saying had to do with his identity??

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it had everything to do with it. And they deduced it so quickly from just a few conversations… He was impressed (and somewhat terrified) to have been read so easily...

For a while, he just had to study them. He wanted to know more about what kind of skills they used to understand him so effortlessly...

Though he never quite got a clear answer out of them, he found that he could respect their talent regardless and, just this once, let himself trust someone else wholeheartedly...

Asmodeus

If you're looking for a demon in touch with the emotions, then you don't have to look much further than Asmo. But even he can have blinders on sometimes…

When he met the MC, he actually liked how open they were about their feelings. He even shared their sentiments so he wasn’t bothered at all.

But when he bunked with them and Simeon in the Demon Lord's Castle, he got to see a different side of them…

After Simeon dressed him down about his narcissism, Asmo did his best to just gaslight the whole thing and put it behind him. … But the MC was watching.

Something must have tipped them off. Maybe a glance at the floor or look in his eye... Maybe just how utterly incapable he was to acknowledge Simeon's words… but they noticed that it bothered him.

"Don't let it get to you... I think you're doing great down here."

"Well of course I am, sweetie. Why wouldn't I be?"

Their reassuring words puzzled him at first... How was he supposed to take them? Were they pitying him? If he were Lucifer, he'd have half a mind to obliterate them for that alone...

But they didn't seem like the type… Asmo could read people just as well as they could, he knew sincerity when he saw it. Were they just trying to help…?

He kept that thought to himself throughout their time together in the Castle. Good heart or not, he didn't want to make getting a pact easy for them. He’d never bow to just anyone.

But after they proved their worth, it all started to click for him. This human was trying to reach out to him when they thought he was hurting… They didn't just write him off as shallow and self-absorbed. They were concerned for his feelings even when he wouldn't acknowledge them…

Asmo hung extra close to the human after that. He found someone willing to look beyond the image he worked so hard to keep up... Even if he didn't need their help quite like his brothers, he could see their effort and loved them even more for it.

Beelzebub

Beel is a straightforward guy who can appreciate straightforward people so he and the MC got along pretty well from the start.

He liked that he didn’t have to read between the lines with them. If they were upset, they’d tell him. If they needed to vent, they’d warn him. If they were happy and having a good time, they didn’t feel the need to hide it. It made life so much easier for him…

Of course, he couldn’t actually tell how good they were with emotions until he started opening up about Belphie, Lilith, and everything that went down before they all became demons…

He was kind of amazed how easy it was to speak to them, even during the painful parts... They never pushed him too much or pried for answers he wasn’t comfortable giving, nor did they make him feel bad for what happened to Lilith or missing his brother...

Honestly, they always seemed to know just how he felt about every new detail he told them. When he finally came clean about his guilt over the whole thing, they didn’t look shocked or surprised… If anything they looked just as pained as he did to have received the confirmation…

He found it oddly comforting to speak to them about pretty much anything after that. He knew that they’d listen and understand no matter what he put in front of them, and after they helped Belphie…? He’d happily love and trust them for the rest of his days...

Belphegor

"It wasn't your fault."

Those four words still ring in Belphie's ears from time to time… An echoing reminder of sorts…

He spent so long wrapped up in his own guilt, unable to talk about it to his brothers, that it turned him bitter and angry… He felt like he was the reason they were all in this mess to start with and that everybody else knew it too…

But hey, he'd say, at least down here there wouldn't be any humans around to ruin things. No humans there to steal away his family like before...

Which is why he snapped when Diavolo said they were introducing humans to the Devildom. How else was he supposed to react? They were just tempting fate for another disaster! Hadn't they learned anything at all??

While he was locked in the attic and the human came to his aid, he honestly took joy in deceiving them...

...At least at first. But on repeat visits, he started to feel his resolve slip.

They listened to him. They seemed genuinely interested in helping him and invested in his family's struggles... They looked like they cared for his brothers and even made efforts to reach out to him too... They told him about their worries and troubles in complete sincerity… with total trust...

He'd spend hours reminding himself that humans weren't meant to be trusted and all reasons he had to hate them... Repeating it all like a mantra until he felt convinced again. On the day he escaped, he finally had the pleasure of killing them himself...

But then, like a roach that just won't die, they came back and told him about Lilith… all before they said, "It wasn't your fault."

No one prompted them to say it. He'd never voiced it before... It was like they just knew... Like they could read the pain in his eyes this entire time…

He still doesn't quite share their stance on, "It's always okay to cry" so he doesn't like to dwell on the complete breakdown he had after that… He wished his brothers weren't there to see the Human-Hating Belphegor accepting a hug from them while he trembled and cried into their shoulder…

But he couldn't deny that he needed it. And from that day on, he’s accepted that he needed them as well...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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hongism · 3 years

Text

under my skin - khj x jwy 18+

pairing; jung wooyoung x kim hongjoong genre; pwp, smut, 18+ wc; 7.2k summary; wooyoung should never have admitted that he liked hongjoong bossing him around, and he most definitely shouldn't have done it so publicly. aka hongjoong knows how to get under his skin and god damn if he doesn't do it fucking well. warnings; explicit smut, fingering, oral sex: m, dirty talk, praise, a lil bit of degradation and humiliation if you squint a/n; hi 😳 so uh this was an impulse writing moment whoopsie but also yeah this is my first mxm work as well as my first mxm smut so yeehaw im going all out on the first one huh :’D as always feedback is appreciated esp since this is something new to me and idek if it did it well 😳

On the list of things Wooyoung knows he definitely should not have done, openly admitting that he is both attracted to Hongjoong and enjoys it when the leader bosses him around on a Christmas live of all things is at the very top.

“He was just sitting on the couch, and I was about to go back to my room then he goes ‘Hey Wooyoung, get my meal ready’. I thought ‘this is the first time someone has treated me like this’. It was — it was attractive.”

Seonghwa’s eyes had flashed with panic the moment the words left Wooyoung’s mouth, clearly picking up on exactly what he meant behind those words. He managed to bite out a strained and awkward laugh that grated against Wooyoung’s ears for far too long. Then, if he hadn’t done enough damage, not even two minutes later was he opening his mouth to spew some further nonsense after staring holes into the side of Hongjoong’s head.

“In that instance, I was attracted to Hongjoong when he treated me badly.”

Except it was not merely that instance. It was – is – far more than that, and the coy smirk that had stretched over Hongjoong’s lips spilled the truth. That Hongjoong knew his power over Wooyoung well before he even admitted it.

That instance had indeed started it all, but Wooyoung does not know how he had spiraled with such haste and intensity. Sometimes, it isn’t even his fault. His body just reacts to something his hyung has said, and he has to force ugly thoughts to the front of his mind or grab the thing closest to him to conceal the raging boner he’s left with. Wooyoung distinctly remembers the first time it became a serious issue though.

It was during a dance practice, another one of those awfully late nights that had everyone on edge, and Wooyoung was already dizzy with exertion before Hongjoong even opened his mouth. Then Yunho and Mingi decided to start fucking around with the choreography and making funny faces at each other in the mirror. Wooyoung knew he was in for it the moment he saw Hongjoong’s normally soft and gentle features flash with a barely contained rage. Then Hongjoong reeled on the pair, eyes flashing a bit of anger as he told both boys off, before shifting back to face Wooyoung now. The younger had choked on his saliva just from the intense eye contact.

“Go reset the music, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks burn with shame to think back on it now because he had most definitely squeaked out the most pathetic “yes sir” known to all mankind and scampered over to the computer to do as told. He had to shove the palm of his hand down so hard against his growing erection that it physically hurt, but it got the job done, and that’s all Wooyoung could have hoped for in the heat of the moment. If anyone noticed his dramatic reaction or thought it to be odd, they decided to spare him the embarrassment and did not mention it.

Then came the practice a few weeks later when Hongjoong was working twice as hard as usual to prepare for awards season. Everything had to be squeaky clean for all the performances. That led to Wooyoung being both blessed and cursed by the sight of a certain Kim Hongjoong in an all too tight-fitting black tee with sleeves rolled up over his shoulders and sweat dripping from his chin to the floor.

Now Hongjoong may not be the most muscular or lean among the group, but god, Wooyoung was positively salivating at even the barest glimpse of tantalizing skin under that shirt. It felt wrong and dirty to thirst after his bandmate – his leader – in such a public way. Hongjoong made things ten times worse by shifting to look Wooyoung in the eyes, brow arched dangerously high and a sharp gleam to his eye that had Wooyoung sweating more than he was before.

“Hey Wooyoung, grab me a water.”

Just simple and straight to the point. Not even a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Wooyoung didn’t need one. He was rushing to follow the order like a good little boy in mere seconds, and the smirk Hongjoong awarded him with nearly made him blackout on the spot. A smart little quirk to one corner of his lips, the other side staying completely still. Hongjoong looked so mean and condescending in that moment, yet Wooyoung ate it right up without even batting a lash. His cock twitched to full attention behind the confines of his grey sweatpants, then he was moving out of the practice room at breakneck speed, desperate to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible.

He had slammed the door behind him and flipped the lock with desperate fingers before stumbling towards the sink to splash his face with cold water. In the reflection of the mirror, he could see how red his face had gotten, the red hue deepened to a scarlet that was only accentuated by the sheen of sweat clinging to his skin. Embarrassing. It was so fucking embarrassing to get off to the idea of Hongjoong bossing him around and being mean to him. Wooyoung had hoped that the water would quell him enough to bring him back to the practice room without being weak enough to jerk off in the company bathroom. Those hopes were dashed when the dastardly image of Hongjoong standing across from him with that cruel smirk floated to mind.

Wooyoung slipped his leaking member out and fucked the tight ring he formed with his hand at record-breaking speed, not stopping until he painted his fingers white with hot cum. And if not for thinking to lock the door, he would have been caught in the act too, because not even ten seconds later was someone knocking and banging at the door.

“Wooyoung? You good?”

Thank fuck it had just been San and not Hongjoong himself. If it were Hongjoong, then Wooyoung is certain that he would have caved and told the man exactly what he was doing without any resistance whatsoever.

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine! Just needed to pee! I’ll be out in a minute!”

He thought that that instance would be the worst of it.

Hongjoong proved him sorely wrong.

In fact, if anything, those instances seemed to increase in frequency. Hongjoong would corner him just to deliver a sharply-spoken order then grin as Wooyoung fervently followed the order without complaint or whining. Wooyoung would be forced to dart off to the nearest bathroom and cum into the palm of his hand to curb the raging horniness in his system. And after he was done, he would pull himself out of the bathroom with his head hung low in shame, not ever noticing the way Hongjoong stood not far off with that same smirk as always painting his pretty lips. If Wooyoung ever whispered a breathless “hyung, please” to himself while jerking off, then he would deny it with his dying breath because that would be too close to admitting how desperately he wants Hongjoong.

Such a stark contrast to how he behaves with Seonghwa, as San noted one day. Sure, Seonghwa would ask him to do things but Seonghwa would ask, accentuating his words with a ‘please’ and making sure to thank Wooyoung afterward. And Wooyoung would always whine no matter what Seonghwa would ask of him. The reason being — well, for two reasons actually. One: Seonghwa isn’t Hongjoong, and two: Wooyoung secretly (read very secretly) loves being ordered around like he’s not good for anything else.

The full admission on Vlive must have been the breaking point for both of them though. Hongjoong was trying to hide himself behind his hands as a faux sign of embarrassment, but Wooyoung could clearly see the curling smirk and hungry gleam in his eyes when he saw past those small fingers. It felt almost like Hongjoong could eat him alive on the spot, and Wooyoung would just roll over and let him.

Whatever Wooyoung had expected to happen after that fateful live left him sorely disappointed because Hongjoong did absolutely nothing. Didn’t comment on it, didn’t tease him about it, acted like it didn’t even happen. Even when Seonghwa granted him a sharp slap upside the back of the head and Yeosang muttered something about Wooyoung being into some kinky shit, Hongjoong huffed out a quiet laugh and led the way out of the room.

Was Wooyoung upset? Both yes and no. He saved himself from heaps of humiliation even though he admitted it in such a public manner, but he would be lying if he didn’t say that he was somewhat trying to egg Hongjoong on a little. All these months of teasing and playing only for him to do nothing? This had to be some sort of blue balling, at least that’s what Wooyoung whined into his pillow before Yeosang and Jongho entered the shared room behind him.

“Who’s blue balling who?”

“No one, Yeo! No one! I didn’t say that!”

Wooyoung is tipping closer and closer to his breaking point, and he knows it’s only a matter of time before he absolutely snaps. That fact is what finds him hesitating by the back of the couch a few days after the aforementioned Fateful Vlive. Hongjoong sits on the cushions, arm slung casually behind his head as always, and Wooyoung is truly trying his hardest not to drool over the sheer attractiveness the position exudes. It doesn’t help that Hongjoong has been driving Wooyoung up a wall all day with his teasing.

First, it was light touches during breakfast, ghosting fingers over his bare forearm that sent goosebumps all over his body.

“Is something wrong, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong had asked like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“No, no, hyung. Just haven’t fully woken up yet.”

That was a lie but oh well. Wooyoung has lied about worse things in his life.

Then after breakfast, Hongjoong had leveled him with a sharp stare and ordered him to pick up the dishes for Seonghwa. Wooyoung didn’t even have time to jerk off in the bathroom afterward because San and Seonghwa dragged him off to play some game before he could make a hasty escape to the bathroom.

“You called for me, hyung?” Wooyoung manages to ask without a stutter to his tone. It’s a miracle truly because when Hongjoong’s voice boomed through the hallway and found him in the bedroom, Wooyoung almost melted.

“Yeah, get me some coffee from the kitchen.”

Now, if it were Seonghwa asking him, Wooyoung would whine and complain. Say that he’s on the fucking couch which is literal steps away from the kitchen and he has two perfectly (sexy) functioning legs that could easily get him a cup of coffee himself without needing to call Wooyoung all the way from his bedroom to get it for him. It is, in fact, not Seonghwa asking him, however; it is Hongjoong, and Wooyoung will be damned if he doesn’t obey the order without even a breath of complaint.

“Sure, of course, hyung!” He chirps in response to hide the shaky smile on his lips. His legs feel like jello but he puts them to use anyway, carrying his body to the kitchen to prepare a mug of coffee just the way Hongjoong likes because of course, he knows exactly how Hongjoong likes his coffee. Once he has finished perfectly preparing the drink, Wooyoung carries it back to the couch and goes as far as to step around the armrest to deliver the mug directly into Hongjoong’s hands.

“Good boy.”

The words are unmistakable. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung pulled his hand away when he did otherwise he would have most definitely dumped piping hot coffee all over Hongjoong without being able to stop himself.

“H-Huh!?”

Hongjoong blinks up from the rim of the ceramic mug. Not an ounce of shame coats his features. Wooyoung knows that hiding behind that cup is his trademark cruel smirk, and that sends him reeling.

“I said good job. You made it just the way I like.”

Wooyoung needs whatever deity or spirit or entity out there in the universe to backhand slap him to high heaven. Hongjoong did not say good job. He said good boy, loud and clear without so much as a stutter to his tone. Wooyoung stumbles back regardless and excuses himself with a hasty mumble about needing to go to the bathroom. He can only hope that his flustered state of embarrassment mixed with tingling humiliation is not as noticeable as it feels like it is.

“I wasn’t done with you.”

Wooyoung has to bite down on his tongue to keep from whimpering at the tone of Hongjoong’s voice combined with those words. He dares to glance back at Hongjoong over his shoulder. The leader is now on his feet, mug of coffee left forgotten on the table in front of the couch, and Wooyoung can find only a single word to describe the look in the man’s eyes.

Hungry.

“Go to my room. We need to talk in private.”

Wooyoung should experience a surge of panic – any normal person would be petrified to hear those words from their leader – but the words go directly to his dick instead. He whips his head forward once more and makes the short trek to the end of the hall without once looking back to see if Hongjoong is following him. He knows the man is though, the steady shuffle of socks on the wood floor tells him that much. Wooyoung half expects Seonghwa to be inside the room when he enters, ready to defend himself and say he has no clue what’s going on, but his taller hyung is nowhere to be found. Hongjoong doesn’t let Wooyoung stay distracted or confused for long; he trails a daring hand over the expanse of Wooyoung’s shoulders, lifting off at his bicep as he steps past the younger man to get into the room. He then drops to the edge of his mattress with blazing eyes and regards Wooyoung with a full-body stare.

“Shut and lock the door.”

There is so much potential behind those words. All the months of sexual tension and teasing and practical blue balling could all be paid off right now, and Wooyoung is not about to let that opportunity slip through his fingers. He jerks into action, spinning around and slamming the door shut with more force than is necessary, and the lock clicks into place a moment later.

“Hyung—”

“It’s always hyung, isn’t it?” Hongjoong taunts, cutting Wooyoung’s thought short. Frankly, Wooyoung has no clue what he was going to say anyway so thank goodness for Hongjoong interrupting him before he made a bigger fool of himself. Hongjoong pushes himself off the bed to step closer to Wooyoung. He closes the distance between them in a matter of seconds, and Wooyoung is still too slack-jawed to react even a little bit. “With Seonghwa hyung, you are always so whiny and bratty. Can’t do anything he says when he tells you to. Always need to talk back and mock him in return. But with hyung, you are so needy. Pliant. Obedient.”

Hongjoong is not bigger than Wooyoung. Not by much at least. He is hardly taller than him, but Wooyoung has shoulders that are a tad broader, features that are a bit sharper, and a face that is just naturally more stern when all his muscles are relaxed. But in this moment? Wooyoung feels impossibly small. Like Hongjoong is meters taller than him, bigger than him, stronger than him, better than him in all ways. His leader has power and control over him. He’s able to make him do whatever he wants with a simple command, and Wooyoung could combust from the mere thought. It gives him a sick rush, one that makes him want to get on his knees and beg for Hongjoong, but he won’t dare do that unless Hongjoong asks him to.

“What is it you want from hyung, Wooyoung?” Hongjoong catches a finger on the underside of his chin, lifting his head just enough so that he can look the other man in the eye. Wooyoung forgets every word in existence as he meets Hongjoong’s burning gaze. His jaw stutters, he blinks dumbly at the brunette, and nothing comes out of him. Hongjoong twists his finger into two now, squeezing down on either side of Wooyoung’s chin until the impact burns a little. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-You,” Wooyoung breathes out shakily. “I just — I want you.”

“That doesn’t sound quite right, darling.” The words catch Wooyoung a bit off-guard at first, and the use of the small pet name has his gut blossoming with too much warmth to be normal. Hongjoong tugs him closer just to drape his pretty lips over the curve of Wooyoung’s ear. Hot breath sends shivers down his spine, and Wooyoung does his best to keep his knees from buckling when Hongjoong speaks again. “That doesn’t sound like the begging I hear coming from the bathroom so often these days.”

Wooyoung’s cheeks are alight with both embarrassment and shame. Hongjoong heard him. Heard him jerking off quietly in the bathroom after every single time he taunted the younger man. Heard his desperate pleas and wishes that it were his hyung touching him and not the warmth of his own shameful hand. Hongjoong pulls back to look him in the eye again, but this time it feels ten times more intimate and inviting.

“Try again, baby. And this time, tell me a safe word so I know when to stop.”

Oh, Wooyoung is fucked, and he’s fucked in more ways than one, that’s for certain.

“I, uh, red. Yeah, red. Red for stop, green for go,” he rambles while blinking like a madman. Hongjoong huffs out a dry laugh.

“That’s step one,” he says, tone as even and steady as ever. “Now tell me what it is you want from me, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung truly wishes he could put up more of a fight. He wants to complain or whine or be even a little bit of a brat in response rather than just caving without pressure. Yet here stands Hongjoong, maintaining that iron-tight hold over him without the slightest bit of effort and forcing Wooyoung into complete and utter submission with a simple command.

“W-Want hyung to – to kiss me and tell me that I’m his good boy. Want him to stuff my mouth full of cock and fingers until I can’t speak be-because I talk too much. And for him to order me around l-like it’s the only thing I’m good for. T-Talk down to me and – and humiliate me because it feels good when hyung taunts me. I… I r-really want hyung to fuck me open and use me until he’s filled me to the brim with cum.” Hongjoong’s pupils are dangerously large, so blown out with lust and desire that Wooyoung feels himself slipping deeper and deeper into their embrace. Even though the words came from his lips and he spoke them into existence, it feels as though Hongjoong reached down his throat and pulled them out himself. It has to be that because otherwise, Wooyoung would not have the confidence to be so bold about his desires.

“Look at you,” Hongjoong sneers. His tone turns mocking in the blink of an eye, and it causes Wooyoung so much whiplash that his head actually spins even though he hasn’t moved an inch. Hongjoong’s free hand snakes downward, finding the jutted bone of Wooyoung’s hip and brushing over it in a taunting way. The leader caresses the soft band of his underwear, then suddenly Wooyoung is positively choking because the man cups the prominent bulge of his erection and gives a teasing squeeze. “So hard just from following orders? Are you so pathetic and desperate to be a good little boy that you would do this for anyone? Or is it only hyung?”

“J-Just hyung,” Wooyoung squeaks out, pressing his thighs together to alleviate some of the growing pressure in his underwear. That answer isn’t enough to satisfy Hongjoong though, and he tugs a bit harder at the younger’s chin.

“Which one? Last I checked, you had more than one hyung.”

“You! You, hyung. Hongjoong hyung.”

“Good boy,” comes the taunting coo from Hongjoong’s lips. Wooyoung really does whimper this time, lower lip jutting out as he releases the shaky sound, and he practically falls in on himself. He probably would too if Hongjoong weren’t holding him so tightly. “If I had known that would have such a strong effect over you, I would’ve said it much sooner.”

There’s a certain insinuation to his words, one that tells Wooyoung that Hongjoong has been purposefully riling him up for a long while now. Hongjoong drops his chin and lets his hand fall away from the other’s cock. Wooyoung misses the pressure immediately, reaching down to replace the hand with one of his own, but Hongjoong slaps the back of his wrist harshly.

“Don’t you want to be good?”

“Y-Yes, sir!” That little word slips out against his will. Hongjoong’s eyes go wide for half a second before settling back into their steady, hungry stare. When he smiles this time, it is a full and blinding gesture that has Wooyoung’s stomach doing little somersaults. That must be the boiling point for Hongjoong’s desire though; next thing Wooyoung knows, Hongjoong has a hand clasped tight around the back of his neck and the man is yanking him forward until their lips collide in a mess of teeth and saliva. It feels positively filthy, but Wooyoung takes it in stride. He lets a surprised moan slip through, and Hongjoong swallows the sound with his mouth, tongue not wasting any time in dancing over Wooyoung’s lip. The younger grants him access to his waiting mouth. His jaw falls slack and his tongue would probably loll out if Hongjoong were not pressing so fervently against him at the moment.

Wooyoung truly is fully pliant before Hongjoong, and he can’t even get his arms to function enough to wrap around the older. So he just stands there, applying an ample amount of pressure to Hongjoong’s lips when the other isn’t fucking his tongue into his mouth, and waits until Hongjoong pulls back to breathe. As it turns out, he doesn’t get much time to catch his breath because his hyung’s mouth and hands are back on him moments later.

Cold hands brush at the skin near Wooyoung’s hips, slipping under the fabric of his shirt to gain more access. Hongjoong mouths his way down to Wooyoung’s jaw where he nips and sucks gently at the skin. It’s not enough to leave a mark, but something tells Wooyoung that the marking will come later. The older hoists his shirt up, tugging and pulling until it’s over Wooyoung’s head and tossed off to the side. Seonghwa will most likely complain later. Although if this is going the direction Wooyoung thinks it is, Seonghwa will have many other things to complain about so he doesn’t dwell on it much.

Besides, Hongjoong’s hands are far too distracting for that, currently tracing soft patterns over the expanse of Wooyoung’s exposed skin until dipping lower to grab both his sweatpants and underwear in one go. Wooyoung helps him tug the material down and bends a bit at the waist to fully discard the garments. He finally processes how he is now fully nude and Hongjoong has not taken even an ounce of clothing off, and when that sinks in, embarrassment burns at his skin. He withdraws his hands to his body, curling tight around his waist in a desperate attempt to cover himself up. Hongjoong is still attached to his jaw by the lips, but he can feel the movements between their bodies enough to know what is going on.

Fingers latch around Wooyoung’s forearms.

“Sweet angel, you have no need to cover up around me,” Hongjoong murmurs against his skin. His hot breath meeting the cool trail of saliva over Wooyoung’s jaw causes goosebumps to rush over his body, along with the sudden lack of clothes to keep him even a tiny bit warm. “Let me show you how pretty you are.”

Hongjoong pulls off his neck with a wet pop and steps an arm’s width away. He makes a full show out of the way he strips himself. Splayed fingers drag down his sides before catching on the hem of his shirt. Inch by inch, he exposes more supple skin, lean muscles straining and working under the movements, and when he tugs his shirt loose at last, Wooyoung ogles the way the tendons in his neck bulge a bit. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe though because Hongjoong fumbles with the buckle of his belt and tugs the leather loose. He doesn’t toss it off to join their shirts off to the side; rather, he throws it onto the bed, eyes holding something that leaves Wooyoung with the sweet taste of anticipation. Although that might just be the taste of Hongjoong on his tongue because he is still dizzy from the short kiss. He continues to stand as still as a statue as Hongjoong tugs his pants down, thumbs hooked around the band of his underwear too. Slowly but surely, the man exposes himself to Wooyoung, and the younger would be lying if he said his eyes didn’t go straight to Hongjoong’s cock.

It’s a bit shameful to admit, but Wooyoung has spent many times in those frequent bathroom trips fantasizing about what Hongjoong might look like underneath all those clothes. Seeing each other nude is something that happens often; however, Hongjoong always makes a habit of taking showers last or coming home so late that no one can see him. Wooyoung initially thought that it was an, for lack of a better term, insecurity about size deficit but looking at him like this now, Wooyoung can clearly see that that is not the case.

He’s a bit thicker than Wooyoung, not so much longer, but definitely holding more girth and curve to his member. A lump rises in Wooyoung’s throat at the thought of finally having the man in his mouth among other places. He has to clamp his teeth down on his lip to keep from openly drooling over the sight of Hongjoong’s body. The bit of solidarity in being fully nude helps Wooyoung’s confidence quite a bit, but it’s Hongjoong’s next comment that sends him spiraling.

“I wonder how pretty my little Wooyoung would look on his knees for me, hm?” His little Wooyoung. Yeah, Seonghwa is gonna have to cart Wooyoung’s dead body out of this bedroom once this is all said and done, because he is close to a heart attack as it is and Hongjoong has hardly done anything. Hongjoong picks up on the way Wooyoung’s breath hitches at those words and lets that dangerous smirk slip through before turning back to his bed. He moves to it without hesitation, and Wooyoung just watches on without daring to move before he is told to, eyes wide with curiosity as Hongjoong pulls a pillow off the bed and drops it to the floor. In the same motion, Hongjoong props himself on the edge of the mattress and nods his head towards the pillow. Wooyoung’s brain doesn’t process the action quick enough because he stands there with a dumbfounded expression on his face for far too long before it sinks in that oh Hongjoong wants him to kneel between his legs on a pillow.

He moves towards the bed on shaky legs, all but collapsing on the pillow once he reaches it, and Hongjoong greets him by dropping a hand to his hair and carding his fingers through the dark locks there. His hair has grown a bit, just enough to have his bangs fall into his eyes whenever the hair isn’t tucked back. Hongjoong tucks a few of the stray locks behind his ear before reaching lower to cup Wooyoung’s chin in the palm of his hand.

“Do you want another command, baby boy?” Now that has Wooyoung’s gut turning every which way, and he nearly squirms where he sits because goddammit there is not enough pressure on his cock and he is nearing desperation.

“Y-Yes, hyung.”

“Then suck me off, yeah? I bet you’d look so pretty all wrecked and fucked out with a cock between your lips.” Those words are oh so sinful and go directly to Wooyoung’s gut, knocking the air out of him with ease. Hongjoong doesn’t stop there though. He curls his fingers up to press against Wooyoung’s lower lip where he teases and tugs at the skin until it’s swollen. Wooyoung drops his jaw to let those same fingers push down hard against his tongue, and he almost gags at the sensation, but fuck, it’s so worth it. Hongjoong’s fingers are heavy on his tongue, a steady and tantalizing weight that begs what is to come with his member. Wooyoung can’t resist the urge to swirl his tongue between the digits and takes them a bit deeper. He sucks softly at Hongjoong’s skin all while blinking up at the man, his leader, his hyung with wide and shining eyes.

When Wooyoung locks gazes with him, he could cry on the spot because that little half-hearted smirk is back on his lips, and this is exactly what Wooyoung fantasized about in these past weeks. Being leveled only with that stare, forced into submission with mere words — Wooyoung is truly living the dream.

Hongjoong retracts his hand, pulling his fingers loose of Wooyoung’s lips too soon for the latter’s liking, but he doesn’t have room or time to complain. A hand threads through the hair at the back of his neck and drags him forward until Wooyoung is met by Hongjoong’s fully erect member. The unspoken command is there but still Wooyoung waits until he gets the verbal one, so desperate to be told what to do in that condescending tone Hongjoong holds.

“Well, go on. It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s cheeks could not possibly flush any darker, but if Hongjoong keeps this up, he might just find a way. The burning sting in the corners of his eyes is practically euphoric, the taste of humiliation on his tongue as he leans forward to give a single, testing lick to the head of Hongjoong’s cock, and Wooyoung is the one to moan when he closes his lips around Hongjoong. The older simply lets his head fall back, hand still tangled in Wooyoung’s hair as he begins to sink deeper on his cock.

Hongjoong tastes of sweat, a stark saltiness on his tongue as he gets about halfway down his member, but Wooyoung’s brain is so high on arousal that he also tastes somewhat sweet. Wooyoung can’t get enough of it. He drags the flat of his tongue over the underside of Hongjoong’s member, feeling for each vein and ridge along his shaft as though trying to memorize the feel. Hongjoong grips Wooyoung’s hair a little tighter. His nails scrape over the younger’s scalp, and a distinctly pleasant burn throbs in that same spot. The idea of Hongjoong’s dainty, painted nails dragging over his skin is too much for his imagination, and Wooyoung reaches a hand up to grasp the base of Hongjoong’s cock before sinking as far down on him as he can go. He chokes around him there, throat pulsing at the sensation of the tip pushing deeper, and Hongjoong releases a loud groan. The sound sends a surge of confidence through Wooyoung along with the knowledge that he drew that noise out of Hongjoong, he made him feel good, he did a good job. He whines weakly around Hongjoong, sucking in as much air through his nose as he can, then he returns to bobbing his head along the length of him.

“Fuck, look at you. Somehow still so noisy even with a cock to keep you busy,” Hongjoong mumbles, biting back another groan. Wooyoung squirms thanks to the words and sneaks a hand down to palm at his weeping cock. “I didn’t tell you to do that.” Hongjoong spats the words with such vehemence that a bit of spit slips from his lip and catches on Wooyoung’s hair. If he didn’t jerk his hand away from his cock, Wooyoung might have cum right then and there because of how damn hot the action is.

Hongjoong tugs hard at the younger’s hair and pulls him off his cock, leaving only a thin strand of saliva to connect Wooyoung to his member. The sight is as intoxicating for Hongjoong as it is for Wooyoung because the older hisses between his teeth then descends to plant a kiss directly over Wooyoung’s lips. He kisses back with a hunger and fervor that begs for more, begs for Hongjoong to do more, and it seems that that is exactly what the elder has in mind because he hoists Wooyoung up enough to trade places with him on the bed.

Wooyoung finds himself splayed out on the bed with Hongjoong looming over him, hair fallen forward to shroud his forehead and eyebrows, and he can safely say that his hyung looks positively menacing in the best way possible. Hongjoong presses a single gentle kiss to the tip of Wooyoung’s nose – an action that has his heart constricting painfully in his chest before Hongjoong drags his lips down the curve of his cheek. He mouths at the sharp edge of the younger’s jaw, letting out a quiet exhale that has Wooyoung shivering. He dares to be bold enough to bring a hand to the older’s hair as Hongjoong reaches the curve of his neck and bites at the skin there.

“F-Fuck, Hong — hyung,” Wooyoung whimpers, hips bucking up to meet nothing but air. Hongjoong presses the heel of his hand down hard against Wooyoung’s hip and keeps him pinned to the bed with that simple touch. The way Wooyoung unravels under him is nothing short of beautiful and mesmerizing, the perfect catastrophe to watch unfold piece by piece until he is writhing and begging with his body for more. The younger doesn’t even see Hongjoong move his arm, but when he sits back, he holds a small bottle of lube in his hand, lid popping open to squirt the clear liquid over two fingers.

“Color?”

“Green,” Wooyoung exhales quickly. “So fucking green, hyung, please just hurry up.” Hongjoong arches a brow then clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“You waited weeks for me to corner you like this. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”

“If you recall, I was jerking off in the bathroom begging for you to fuck me senseless every other day, so no. I don’t think I can wait any longer,” Wooyoung huffs out in response, resituating a bit on the bed so Hongjoong can spread him open properly. The other man bends over him with teeth flashing as he grins. He catches Wooyoung’s lobe between those same teeth and nips at the skin until Wooyoung moans loudly.

“Next time you try to do that I’ll be sure to follow you. And maybe make you scream a bit for good measure. You’d do that for hyung, wouldn’t you?” Hongjoong sinfully enunciates the word, and it affects Wooyoung so much that his vision goes spotty for a few seconds.

Fuck, Wooyoung is not going to survive. His heart is gonna give out before he can even get fucked. Hongjoong chuckles under his breath as he gauges the younger’s reaction. His lubed fingers slip between Wooyoung’s legs and trail lower until he brushes over his puckered hole. He starts with just one finger, pushing into Wooyoung so slowly that the younger thinks he’s gonna die of old age by the time Hongjoong finally settles the digit inside him. He squirms a little under the man’s weight.

“I’m not gonna break, hyung. You can go harder than that.”

“And I will. Be patient.” Wooyoung lets his body go slack at the sound of that; it’s a half-hearted command at best but still a command nonetheless, and it continues to have the same dastardly effect over him as always. Hongjoong continues to wiggle his finger around bit by bit until he deems Wooyoung comfortable enough for another, and the next stretch is so pleasant that Wooyoung’s lashes flutter as he pushes a second finger in.

“Hyung,” he whispers, tone so breathless that it almost sounds like just a sigh and nothing else. Hongjoong lifts his chin to look the younger in the eye.

“Hm? What it is my baby wants?” There Hongjoong goes again with that little possessive word that has Wooyoung melting under him.

“Want – want you to kiss me please.”

Hongjoong answers by dropping his lips atop Wooyoung’s, starting out with a barely-there pressure that only grows in force as he starts to fuck his fingers in and out of Wooyoung. The younger can only gasp and moan into the kiss. He forgets what it means to be quiet as the pleasure takes over, too lost in the sensation of Hongjoong’s lips and body and everything. They’ll surely get an earful later, but Wooyoung is not about to let them take this away from him so he is going to be as loud as possible while he can.

A third finger finds its way into Wooyoung. It draws an even louder moan from his lips, the pads of Hongjoong’s fingers brushing just shy of that elusive spot where he wants to be touched so badly.

“P-Please, please fuck me, hyung. I can’t – I can’t wait any longer, I just n-need you in me now.”

Apparently, Wooyoung should have led with that because Hongjoong almost growls and pulls his fingers out of Wooyoung, snatching up the lube again and squirting more onto his palm. He jerks hastily at his cock and warms the liquid on his member before guiding himself to Wooyoung’s eagerly awaiting hole. When Hongjoong at last starts pushing into Wooyoung, the younger sees stars in his vision and his brain empties of all coherent thought. It is everything that he could have dreamed of and better, for fuck’s sake, it’s the best feeling Wooyoung has ever felt in his life and he might cum after just a single thrust of Hongjoong’s hips.

He manages – by sheer miracle for certain – to last a bit longer than that. Hongjoong starts slow, rocking his hips gently against the backs of Wooyoung’s thighs. In time though, the pace grows until it’s hasty and absolutely brutal. Wooyoung can barely catch his breath long enough to moan between thrusts with the speed Hongjoong keeps up. Skin slaps hard against skin and leaves the lewd sound to resonate alongside Wooyoung’s high-pitched moans and Hongjoong’s much softer grunts.

Words continue to tumble from Wooyoung’s lips in the height of his pleasure, but it’s just nonsensical ramblings that range from “more, more, fucking more” to “yes, hyung, there, right there”. He grips desperately at the sheets under his body in a desperate attempt to ground himself from the dizzying amount of euphoria running through his veins. Every nerve in his body is alight with all sorts of sensations, and despite still not having cum once, Wooyoung truly feels like he’s being overstimulated to absolute filth.

He doesn’t even feel it when he actually does reach his high – cock twitching and spurting hot ropes of cum over his stomach completely untouched by either himself or Hongjoong. It’s almost embarrassing how easily Hongjoong made him orgasm; Wooyoung brings his hands up to cover his reddened face in the humiliation of the action. A choked and dry sob rips through his parched throat, cock weeping uselessly against the vee of his abdomen.

“F-Fucking hell, you’re so beautiful,” Hongjoong grunts through his thrusts. Wooyoung’s body reacts on its own, preening at the sound of the praise despite his neverending embarrassment. That sends Hongjoong over the edge right then and there. His hips stutter in their quick thrusts, then he’s pressing flush against Wooyoung and cumming hard in him. His elbows buckle, causing him to topple on top of Wooyoung’s chest and smear the semen painting his stomach and chest. It doesn’t seem to bother the man one bit though as he just lifts his chin and drapes his lips over Wooyoung’s like the softest and warmest blanket on a cold day.

They stay like that for too long probably, just kissing and nipping at each other’s lips in the laziest manner, and Wooyoung doesn’t even mind when the cum between them starts to grow sticky. He releases a content sigh as Hongjoong slips his lips back down to the underside of his jaw – apparently his favorite place to kiss given how much he’s done so already – and dares to speak.

“Good talk, hyung,” he rasps out, throat burning from the mere effort of the words.

“The fact that you had the balls to say something while we were live but not the first hundred times I cornered you,” Hongjoong grumbles against his skin, and Wooyoung huffs out a weak laugh.

“You could’ve interrupted my, erm, bathroom trips at any time.” Wooyoung smiles a bit to himself and draws a hand up to comb through Hongjoong’s sweat-slick hair.

“Next time I will.”

“N-Next time?”

“I can think of many other ways I’d like to have you, and many other things I’d like to do to you. If you’ll let me, that is.”

“Yep! Yes, yeah, you got it, sign me up, I am on board. Don’t even need to convince me,” Wooyoung rambles, cheeks flushing dark again at the insinuation in Hongjoong’s words.

“Good. Now, let’s get cleaned up before Seonghwa gets back.”

“Where’d you send him off to anyways?”

“I just told him we were gonna talk and he disappeared.” Hongjoong shrugs as he pulls his body free of Wooyoung’s and climbs to his feet, albeit on shaky legs. The younger tilts his head to the side with a bit of confusion gracing his features.

“That’s all it took?”

“Well, I told him I would be doing a majority of the talking and it would include my mouth doing positively sinful things to your body, but… we had a change of plans, didn’t we?” Hongjoong glances down at Wooyoung, passing a teasing wink his way, and for the last time (at least Wooyoung hopes it is the last time otherwise he really will pass out) his lips curl into that signature smirk.

“We can make up for it in the shower.”

...

#ateez smut #ateez mxm #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #wooyoung x hongjoong #hongjoong x wooyoung #wooyoung smut #hongjoong smut #wooyoung imagines #hongjoong imagines #wooyoung oneshot #hongjoong oneshot #sweet baby jesus #fic; under my skin

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wndrcarol · 3 years

Text

daddy’s favorite | ceo!c.d. | part 3

part one | part two

summary: working for your fathers company has its perks. But one of those perks is being able to gain connections.

a/n: okay this time I made sure to put the ��keep reading’ tab bc it completely flew over my head adding it to pt.2 whoopsie. Alrighty, so this chapter we really start uh ,, getting into it 👀 some teasing bc why tf not

also! again, if you’d like to be added to the taglist for ‘daddy’s favorite’ then just let me know and I’ll be more than glad to add you!

au: CEO

pairings: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

other characters in chap.: Tony Stark (father)

warnings: nothing serious but some closeness ahem lmaO

———

Carol kept trying. Almost everyday it felt like. She would call your office, asking for info on the company to add to her records for the new deal and then would proceed to ask you out. Everytime you declined, even though you wanted to accept badly.

You thought if you kept her on edge about her asking you out, it would be a bit fun to just keep the confident blonde on her toes for a while. But, each time you fought with yourself to keep cool and not accept. But today was different.

Once again, Carol called asking for a certain file information to which you complied in giving to her. Then came her daily question.

“Still deciding on that date?” She asked through the phone as you smiled lightly, closing the paper folder infront of you. You could here her pen tapping on the table over the phone, anxiously waiting for your response, hoping today would be the day you’d say yes.

“I’ll go” you said, making Carol freeze. She didn’t know what to say next. She thought you’d give your answer of “I don’t know yet” or “things are so busy, I need more time” but she was stunned at your two words.

“You-“ she started, clearing her throat and composing herself before continuing, “you will?” She asked, feeling a bit giddy knowing you said yes.

“Yes, unless you don’t want me to anymore then-“ you said, smirking into the phone, playing along a bit more.

“No, no! Of course I do” she said, cutting you off as she felt a smile grow on her face. “Only took you a bit of time to say yes” she chuckled, smiling into the phone and playing with the phone cord. There she was, the smug Carol you partially began to adore.

“Doesn’t hurt to keep you on your toes” you smiled into your phone, unknowing to what Carol looked like.

“Well then, how about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up from work” she said as you nodded your head before realizing she couldn’t see you.

“Sounds like a date” you chuckled, feeling the sensation of butterflies in your stomach slightly which caught you a bit off guard but enjoying the feeling at the same time.

“Alright, I’ll see you then” Carol said, smiling before placing the phone down and letting out a sigh of relief. Who knew a phone call could make a girl so happy?

The next day, Carol had called saying she’d be picking you up right from work which you didn’t mind but would have liked time to change into something better to go out in instead of your work clothes.

You decided against telling your father that you were going on a date with Carol. You knew what his reaction would be to hearing his daughter go out with his new business partner and it wouldn’t be pretty. Plus, he didn’t need to know everything that happened in your private life so there was no harm in keeping it under wraps.

Packing up your things and placing them into your bag, you began to put on your jacket when you heard a knock at your door.

Looking up, you saw your dad as he smiled at you before leaning against the doorway. He gave you an apologetic look and you groaned, stopping your actions, knowing what that look meant.

“I really hate to do this to you” he said, pulling out a stack of paper from behind his back and stretching it out towards you.

“Can’t I do it tomorrow?” You asked, walking slowly towards him, hesitant to take the pile of papers.

“These have to be finalized and in the system by tonight. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you earlier” he said as you sighed, grabbing the stack and turning around, placing them onto your desk.

“That would’ve been nice” you groaned out, beginning to take your jacket off.

“Did you have plans tonight?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you walked around your desk, shaking your head and looking up at him.

“No, just was going to go home and watch movies” you said, lying through your teeth, praying he’d buy it. You were a pretty bad liar at times so this was one time you hoped you seemed convincing at least.

Your father looked you up and down before shrugging and giving you an apologetic look. “Well, this would be more eventful then binging a show in one night, right?” He said before getting interrupted by his phone ringing.

Picking it up and stepping out the room quickly, you sat down with a sigh. Now you had to call Carol and change the plans which you really didn’t want to do. You were excited for tonight, hopefully to get to know her better but the universe had other plans in store.

Your father stepped back in, putting his phone away and buttoning his jacket up. “I have to go. I’m meeting with someone over dinner for another deal” he said, looking at you apologetically once more. He walked over to you and pressed a small kiss on your head before walking back over to the door.

“I’m sorry again. Call me if you need anything, okay?” He said as you nodded, waving at him to leave. Letting out a sigh once you were alone, you picked up your phone and dialed Carol’s number, feeling bad to even tell her the change of plans.

“A little eager aren’t we” Carol picked up, a small smirk on her face as you chuckled lightly into the phone and she immediately knew your tone was off.

“Um, I don’t think I can make it. I have to finish up these reports by tonight and I know it’s going to take forever. I’m sorry” you said quickly, wanting to get over with telling her when you were met with silence through the phone.

“Hello?” You asked after a couple seconds, checking to see if you had been disconnected before you heard Carol speak.

“I’ll just come to you” she said, managing a small smile while feeling a bit sad that she couldn’t take you out.

“Are you sure?” You asked, feeling a bit hopeful knowing she suggested coming to your work but not fully feeling excited as you don’t want to jinx it.

“Of course! I’m going to let you reschedule when you just said yes to me” she chuckled which made you let out a small giggle over the phone as you began playing with the phone cord.

“Alright, sounds good then” you said as she nodded, smiling into the phone, feeling that giddy feeling again.

“Is pizza okay? I’ll pick some up on the way there” she asked, beginning to put things away on her desk with her free hand.

“Pizza is perfect” you said as she nodded, closing her drawer before standing up and grabbing her bag, holding the phone with the support of her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon” she continued to smile before grabbing the phone with her hand and placing it down onto the receiver.

Placing your phone down, your smile still was on your face and you knew it wouldn’t be wiped off. Getting right into work, you made it your goal to get as much done as you could before Carol came.

Rubbing your hands over your face, you let out a sigh as you finally were able to relax a bit after inputting each page into the system online. Moving your hands away, you looked at your watch which read 5:45p. You had been at this for at least two hours and it also meant it’s been two hours since you had called Carol.

Hearing a knock at your door startled you as you turned to see Carol there with a small take out pizza box and a small smile on her face. “Sorry for the wait, the line at the place was long” she said, coming close and placing the box on the desk before standing up and shaking your head at her lightly.

“Plus, I wanted to give you some time to work since it sounded it was going to be stressful” she said, looking around your desk and seeing all these pages around your desk. “Which I guessed right” she chuckled as you laughed along, gathering the papers and stacking them up nicely.

“Don’t worry about it. I got a pretty good dent in” you smiled at her before looking down, realizing you both needed plates. Excusing yourself, you made your way to the break room, looking in the cabinets for plates and two water bottles for you both before taking them back to your office.

“Here you go” you said, handing Carol a plate and water bottle to which she said a small “thank you” as you sat down, taking a piece of pizza.

Taking a bite, you looked up at Carol who already had her eyes on you. Raising an eyebrow at her, you swallowed your food before shrugging at her.

“What?” you asked as she chuckled, picking up her napkin and wiping a bit of grease that had dripped onto your chin.

Her movements were soft on your face and it made your heart feel as though it fluttered in your chest as you watched her hand. Pulling her hand back she smiled at you.

“Just had something on your face” she said before taking a bite of her slice. You sat there a bit dumbfounded before composing yourself and taking a drink from your water bottle as she began to look around your office a bit, getting a sense as to who you were before looking back at you.

“Thanks” you said, as she nodded, taking another bite of her pizza while continuing to look a you. You both sat in silence but it was nice. You’d say a couple words here and there, mainly about your day but it was comforting to have her there with you.

While finishing up her slice, she continued to look around your room, studying it. Studying and looking at every photo on the wall, things on shelves. Carol couldn’t help but smile when she saw photos of you being silly or smiling wide in some. She couldn’t help but think of how cute you looked in them.

Her eyes landed on one of your shelves and she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Placing her plate down, she got up and picked up the Magic 8 Ball that sat on your shelf before turning to you, holding it in her hands. She raised an eyebrow at you as you chuckled. Carol used to have one and would always use it so seeing it in your office just brought back memories.

“That’s my luck charm, I’ve had it since...forever” you said, watching her as she shook it, turning it over to read the answer before frowning. Wonder what she asked it.

“Helps me make big decisions. You should invest in one” you joked, smiling at her before getting up and walking over to her.

“Did you ask it about this date?” she quirked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You chuckled, taking the ball from her and shaking it, turning it over to see the triangle showing ‘yes’.

Turning it to Carol, you smiled at her and nodded your head. “But of course, doesn’t hurt to go against the oracle at times” you said, placing it back into her hand. Your fingers brushed hers lightly which made Carol shiver lightly as she looked up at you.

“Is that so?” she looked up at you before turning to place it back on the shelf in its rightful place.

“Didn’t hurt to keep you on your toes for while. I think you’d understand that” you said as she turned back to look at you, a small smirk evident on both your faces but hers read out a different meaning making yours to wipe off your face quickly.

Your confidence quickly went away as you watched her movements. She moved her hand from the magic 8 ball on your shelf before walking over close to you. You moved back until you felt the desk behind you, making you stop.

“You know it’s not nice to lead people on” she said, leaning you against your desk as her body moved closer to yours. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you looked at her. All of a sudden, you felt hot. Like you were burning up from the inside.

Her hand made its way to your lower back, supporting you while her other hand moved up to push away a piece of stray hair. Your mind was trying to register all the different sensations you were feeling. From her soft touch on your face to the hand on your back, your head felt fuzzy from it running a mile a minute

Leaning close to your ear, you could feel her breath against your skin and you closed your eyes, feeling soothed and aroused at the same time by the sensation.

“Especially people who really want a chance” she said, placing a small kiss below your ear lobe, making you sigh lightly as she pulled back, looking at you and smirking.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She said, moving her hand to caress your cheek before completely pulling away from you and began getting ready to leave like nothing happened.

You stayed in the same position, stunned as she put her jacket on and grabbed her bag before turning to you, her smirk still on her face.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” she winked before walking out your office and down the hall. You looked around, still stunned as you sat down on your desk. What the fuck just happened?

———

taglist: @marvelbbyx @mynameispurple @sat-yrr

feedback is appreciated!

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers imagine #carol danvers au #carol danvers one shot #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagine #captain marvel au #captain marvel one shot #marvel imagine #daddy’s favorite fic #wndrwriting #mine.txt

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serodev · 3 years

Note

hi hi! could i request a male match-up please 👉👈 i’m gender fluid and mostly dress androgynous :D. i’m bisexual and often go from "omg i love them they're adorable" to "they could ruin my life and i’d thank them".

i sorta have a hard time admitting i like something, example, when i got the touch five markers i’d been waiting for, i looked really calm or even bored while getting the package but right when i got to my room i was basically silently screaming and doing a victory dance. whoopsie i forgot but i’m more on the creative side like drawing, singing, writing, painting, cooking, reading and stuff but i dont necessarily have a problem with stuff like math. low self confidenceTM. i sorta just wanna be held and sleep with a lot of pillows imagining i’m hugging someone. i kinda dont really put myself out there but if I have the attention then i wont mind, and if i need to, i wont hesitate to state my opinion on something. as my friend says, i can go from sweet to scary in 0.2 seconds cause they saw how much i insulted someone for calling me a pig. i’m ambiverted and love boba and generally just sweet things. i kinda show affection in little ways like, giving you the last slice of pizza, giving you a blanket if you're sleeping and you look cold, watering your plants, wiping your mirror, etc. i’m kind of a shut in since i dont really have a reason to go out. People tend to say I look rude or mean before they talk to me but once they get to know me I'm apparently a pretty nice person.

Note(s): Oh, I must admit that I tend to act just like you! I have a hard time expressing my own emotions from time to time, so I usually end up showing my love with small acts and stuff!

I match you up with...

Tengen Uzui!

» The number one reason for this pick is that, as we all know, Uzui owns extremely good hearing, and he can probably hear every little change (and thoughts) that you might do/think without you even knowing about it.

» For example, he might buy you something that you've really wanted for a while now, and he will definitely hear how excited you are about it even though you might not show it! He actually loves that tiny little quirk of yours, and he loves to buy you gifts because of that.

» Another reason why Uzui's extremely good s/o for you is that he loves to do different things! (Hell, he's an art teacher in the Kimetsu Academy, so he'll definitely love to draw stuff with you). I also like to think that he loves singing, so you don't need to be shy about it to him! He'll actually ask you to sing with him from time to time, and he'll always praise you and your voice when you two are almost breathless after a long karaoke session.

» You're in luck when it comes to boba and other sweets! Our flamboyant sound hashira loves boba as well, and he's probably obsessed with all these different food trends that come and go, so you're certainly on a ride when it comes to those things! He's one of those guys who will drive for hours just to taste some new food.

» The thing that made Uzui fall in love with you in the first place was your absolute selflessness. When he first saw you give people your last slice of pizza and taking care of people in your own unnoticeable way, he decided then and there that he wants you to be his s/o.

#uzui tengen #tengen uzui #kny uzui #uzui x reader #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #pillars #kny matchup #sero writes

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 4 years

Text

Band of Brothers-

Cute/charming things they say when they walk into a room and see you/you walk into a room and they see you:

Babe:

“oh SHIIIIIT! There’s my BABY! Do you see her, fellas? GodDAMN, I’m a lucky sonofabitch!”

(you blush so hard and are just like Babe, we’re at work stahp it but he dgaf).

It’s embarrassing and always makes Martin glare so imploringly at you that you’ll go over to Babe just to make him be quiet. Because, you know, YOU’RE AT WORK.

This bitch is shameless when it comes to loving on you, having once come to stand next to you when Sink was giving an important announcement and straight-up PINCHED. YOUR. ASS.

how you didn’t yelp is a miracle, and how no one else seemed to notice was equally astounding

(oh, the boys noticed. They kinda shipped it tho, so it was more a matter of hiding their joy).

Needless to say, it only happened the once, something you made Babe swear after you pulled him aside and punched him in the arm.

Don’t worry, you kissed it better.

Roe:

bb boy doesn’t say anything at first,

the smile he saves just for you is playing at his lips as you walk up to meet him, tho.

The moment you’re close enough that he can smell the sweet mint of your gum, he’ll whisper something sweet like “hey you” or “mon amor”, or maybe just your name

(bc let’s be honest, his accent is 10 out of 10 and he could read me the dictionary and I’d still rock an ugly giggle/snort combo).

If it’s a more serious situation, like if you’re hurt oh lordy

he will literally shout your name until either you shout back or someone tells him where you are.

I could see him being a face holder, in the sense that he does it to reassure himself that you’re okay and make sure he has your undivided attention.

Since getting injured in Carentan, you hadn’t been as close to the frontlines as you had been, so when you were needed you are REALLY NEEDED,

and even if he didn’t like it Gene knew you were the best at what you did.

Gene also feels better if he knows where you are.

Even when you eventually return to Easy, he will feel better knowing which Foxhole you’re in, and knowing he’s seen to it your first aid kit was fully stocked.

Liebgott:

THAT FUCKER’S SMIRKING AT YOU SO OPENLY that whoever he had been talking to instantly goes

*sigh* y/n’s just came in, didn’t she?

And he won’t even ANSWER because he’s already shoving past them to walk up and eye you with obvious satisfaction.

“Bout time you showed up,” he’d say casually, hands finding your hips giving them a quick squeeze.

“Sooner we get briefed, sooner we can get outta here.”

(You’re not fully sure what ‘getting outta here’ entails, but if the way he looked at you was any indication, you had a feeling it didn’t involve anything less than PG-13 sexy times.)

Bull:

“Hey, little lady.”

He’ll say it no matter how tall or short you are, how wide or how narrow.

He will always say it to you that when you first see each other in the morning

(sometimes, you wake up to Hey, little lady being kissed into the soft skin behind your ear.)

(Once while on a 48 hour pass, he’d woken you up that way in a REAL bed and the two of you had nearly gotten him sent up Curahee for being late coming back because you’d ended up spending more time in that bed than either of you anticipated Whoops)

(Even if he had been late, he definitely wouldnt have minded, tbh. He fully considered going AWOL if it mean neither of you had to leave the bed)

but throughout the day he’s more concerned about getting his hands on some part of you whenever the two of you had been apart-

even if it was for like five minutes.

Nothing over the top- holding his arm up and out so you can step into his side, a press of his lips to your temple.

Idk guys i just feel like he’d just love you so much that everyone would be able to see, which they do and they all think it’s fucking cute

Buck:

He doesn’t always call out when he sees you, mostly because your eyes always seem to find his.

The two of you could be across a field from one another with a thousand angry Germans between you, guns blazing, and the two of you would always spot each other like two honing beacons.

If its downtime and you guys don’t have to be on your guard he’ll ABSOLUTELY wolf whistle in at you,

You’ll see a stupid grin lighting up his face as he nods in your direction.

“Take a look, boys. I think we’ve got ourselves a…”

and he always waits until you’re close enough that he can wrap a quick arm around your waist and pat your hip.

“Certified babe-asaurus!”

(in a foxhole somewhere, a wild Babe’s head pokes up in confusion).

You groan and boo him, and whoever he was with inevitably ends up booing him too.

But he doesn’t care because seeing you smile makes him so happy you guys.

Lipton:

If you’re in public, he will quietly step up beside you and place his hand gently between your shoulder blades.

He’s not super into PDA, which you didn’t mind because what he didn’t show in physical touch he more than made up for in open admiration.

He is in awe of you

sometimes he worries you forget how highly he thinks of you, how highly everybody thinks of you

(you don’t forget, but he’s just one of those people who will get intrusive thoughts like that and sometimes has a hard time shaking them so plz just let him say it ok?)

so he always whispers some praise with his greeting

(Hey, beautiful...Doin’ okay, love?...What’re you thinking, brilliant girl?).

It’d probably seem like overkill if anyone else did it but Carwood is just so goddamn sincere that you can’t help but duck a quick kiss to his shoulder.

HOWEVER!

If you two kids are alone….

OH BOI.

He is handsy, coming up and caging you with his arms,

probably pulling you close quickly so you lose your balance and he can hold you a lil bit.

(He likes to sweep you off your feet im so sorry)

That’s when his praises are hushed and sighed between long slow kisses.

Nixon:

Like Liebgott, he’s a snarky motherfucker who will get the most self-satisfied grin on his face the moment he sees you, instantly turning on the famous Lewis Nixon charm ( something he’d long since decided belonged to you and you alone.)

“Uh oh,” he’d say, looking you up and down before raising an eyebrow.

(bc your hot but also he doesn’t want to get all flirty if you’re hurt or sick or something’s up bc ur not just something to flirt with- YOU ARE A BADASS WITH BADASS RESPONSIBILITIES AND THAT WAS SOMETHING HE very often and sometimes FOUND SO HOT THAT IT MADE HIM THINK HE MAY HAVE AN AUTHORITY FETISH this has been a PSA)

“Here comes trouble.”

you roll your eyes, the behavior you once found cocky and arrogant having becoming endearing somewhere between Toccoa and England.

He has absolutely no qualms about PDA (verbal or physical), so it’s up to you to reign him in

(especially if he’s a lil tipsy, poor Luz didn’t need to hear Lewis’s sloppy and shameless plea for you to let him eat you out on top of piano he’d found in the attic of the billet he’d been assigned. You weren’t able to look at George for a week without wanting to die of embarrassment and Lewis Nixon didn’t get any for two weeks. He was sure to never make such a mistake ever again)

And Dick had probably grown blind to how Lewis liked to pull you his lap and run his hands up and down your thighs while you played with his hair.

Also, like Lipton, he probably saves the more explicit acts of PDA for when the company has scheduled downtime

(but only bc you told him he needed to keep it in his pants any other time he tried to get cute with you)

but you can bet your ass his hand will always try to tap it (your ass, that is.)at least once

a day when he isn’t supposed to.

That’s when you get to punish him whoopsies

Dick:

since the day you were introduced to Dick in Georgia, the boy always made sure to stand when you entered a room and will call you “ma’am”,

(you know, LIKE HE DOES ONLY BECAUSE HE HAS TO FOR SOBEL BC RANKS. I feel like he has a “we salute the woman, not the rank” speech queued up for anyone who tried to give him shit for it BUT THAT’s JUST ME)

but he has a knowing look in his eye that makes the term ‘ma’am’ feel anything but impersonal.

It confused the shit out of replacements, who would automatically stand because their superior officer (that would be Big Dick Winters) did- only to see you standing there in your fatigues with a coffee in each hand with a look of mutual confusion on your face.

(bc while they like you, but they’re confused still bc while you’re a boss ass bitch, you didn’t outrank him...or at least they theink you dont?)

Babe had been the one to ask you about the longing looks and lingering glances, and when you didn’t know how to answer him you’d gone to Nixon,

He’d burst into tearful laughter and was unable to get it together enough to explain anything.

Dick had been the one to bring it up the next time they were alone, weirdly enough, as she proofread his report for errors that didn’t exist.

Because you warrant it, he’d said when pressed for a reason why he greeted her like a ranking officer, looking down at his boots as they both blushed like teenagers at a school dance.

After that, he still stood wherever you walked in

but now he made a point to brush his fingers against yours at some point during the time you were together.

He’s the definition of a slow burn friends-to-lovers story, and boi can get spicy LEMME TELL YOU.

(this is my first writing thing ever plz let a sister know if there are any glaring typos. Also i’m roughly 97 years late to fandom but I brought y’all some starbucks so plz let me in thank you)

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #babe heffron x reader #eugene roe x reader #joe liebgott x reader #bull randleman x reader #carwood lipton x reader #lewis nixon x reader #dick winters x reader #hbo war x reader #it's vv bad but I'll just add it to the pile of already burning garbage pile that is my bibliography #buck compton x reader

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wyofabdoms · 3 years

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Undercover I Do - Chapter 7

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Mature (Eventual smut)

Warnings: Memories of attempted sexual assault, fake/pretend relationship, married and undercover trope, temporary amnesia, injury, swearing, soft Javi, feelings, I have no idea how amnesia really works, brief mention of masturbation, Javi reads poetry...did you know that?!?!?...me neither!

Word Count: 4407 (again....Whoopsie!)

Notes: A trip to the office in an attempt to jog your memories ends up revealing more about Javier Peña then you expected. Plus, a trip to the farmer's market knocks some things loose and a thunderstorm brings you and Javi closer.

Read on Ao3

It had been a week since you’d come home from the hospital.

During that week, there had been so little success in regaining your memories save for those brief hopeful moments with Javi the previous weekend. Javi had done as much work from home as he could this past week; when he did have to go in to the office, he usually returned with stacks or boxes of paperwork, spreading out on the coffee table or in the kitchen like now, grumping that he didn’t want to leave you on your own for too long if he could help it. The time in the alone stretched on endlessly and you always felt a jolt of happiness when you heard the key in the lock and your husband strode in on a cloud of cigarette smoke, faded aftershave and cologne with (more often than not) a frustrated scowl decorating his handsome face. You always took note of how that scowl slipped from his face when he greeted you, though, and that moment always made you smile.

The previous day you’d joined Javi at work for a short while. You had discussed at dinner the night before that maybe more familiar surroundings would jar something loose...after all, Javi had said, the two of you usually spent more time at the office than you ever really did in your apartment. You eagerly agreed. If nothing else you were excited for a change of scenery.

It had been more awkward than anything, really and you were disappointed that nothing short-term had seemed to come back to you. Feistl and Van Ness had both greeted you warmly, inquiring as to whether you’d gotten the flowers they’d sent. Both younger men had kindly remarked that you looked like you were doing well and then proceeded to lapse into an uncomfortable silence, glancing from one another and then Javi before quickly scurrying off to complete some menial task. Dixon had found you as well, and had seemed a bit on edge when she had made small talk with you. You simply chalked it up to stress, but you had seen her pull Javi a short distance away and speak furtively to him, clearly irritated with something he had said or done. Javi’s brows had lowered over his dark eyes when the older woman had moved away and he had ushered you into his office, telling you he needed to pop into a quick meeting...shouldn’t take more than fifteen, twenty minutes and did you want to wait here or should he get a car to take you home?

You’d been happy to settle yourself onto the worn leather couch, but as the time ticked by you grew antsy and started pacing around your husband’s office, tracing the pens on the desk, sitting in his chair and twirling in it absentmindedly, aimlessly gazing at the maps and photographs on the walls and bulletin boards. As you wandered, the corner of your jacket caught on something on the edge of the desk, pulling it off and sending a stack of papers fluttering to the floor. You cursed, then bent to re-stack the papers, hoping they had not been in any kind of order. You saw a thin, navy blue book also on the floor and reached to pick it up.

Rumi: The Book of Love: Poems of Ecstasy and Longing

You were struck for a moment: what was Javi doing with a book of love poems at work? You sat down in his desk chair again. Flipping open the small book you noticed a name written neatly in a woman’s handwriting on the inside cover: Sofia Flores

A small piece of paper, worn with time was tucked between the cover and the title page. You carefully open it and read a small message in the same writing as the name:

Even though this marriage didn’t work out, my sweet Javi, remember: I will always love you. Xoxo

Your stomach clenched. “This marriage” hadn’t worked out? You felt like your mouth was suddenly sandpaper and you started to close the book and place it back on the desk when another loose paper fluttered out from the middle pages...one of many pieces of paper stuck there you realized as you flipped to the middle of the book of poetry, finding two with corners dogeared. Two poems on opposite pages bracketed a small collection of what appeared to be newspaper clippings. The first poem read:

“Lovers find secret places inside this violent world where they make transactions with beauty.”

And:

“I want to see you. Know your voice. Recognize you when you first come ’round the corner. Sense your scent when I come into a room you’ve just left. Know the lift of your heel, the glide of your foot. Become familiar with the way you purse your lips then let them part, just the slightest bit, when I lean in to your space and kiss you. I want to know the joy of how you whisper “more”

Your breath caught at the simplicity and beauty of the poems, and it made your heart ache that your husband even possessed a book of poetry, much less one filled with such lovely words. You started to look through the clippings flattened between these two poems and were surprised when you noticed they all seemed to be about you.

There were five total: one from what appeared to be an interoffice newsletter highlighting your work as a successful agent in a mostly male dominated field. The short article included a photograph of you taken several years ago when you had graduated from Quantico. The other four were in Spanish and had clearly come from local Bogota papers. Each had grainy black and white photos of you (and two with Javi along with some other DEA agents) at different locations around the city taken during the last two years as you had worked to help unravel the mess that was Columbian drug trafficking. In one, you and Javi and Feistl stood together surveying a map spread on the hood of a Jeep, most likely either pre- or post- op. In another, you were escorting a minor drug crony from a building, his hands behind his back, your hand firmly on his shoulder and your torso covered in a sturdy tac vest. The others were similar and at the bottom of the small pile of clippings, you found a polaroid photo.

It was another picture of you, but in this one you were sitting amongst a small group of co-workers. Despite the others in the picture, you were framed at the center, clearly the focus of the photographer. You remembered this night from over a year ago: It was Van Ness’’s birthday and you and several other colleagues had pitched in to buy him a Polaroid camera like the one that would have taken this picture. It had been a good night out, a fun dinner with margaritas and beer flowing. As everyone got more silly and giggly and loose, the camera had been passed around and each person had taken a turn snapping a photo. You vaguely remembered glancing across the table just as the snap from this photo being taken had reached your ears and noticed Peña lowering the camera from his face, removing the picture from the roller as it slid from the device, growling something to the person next to him as he passed the camera. You hadn’t thought anything of it, thinking your partner had just taken a wide shot of you and your colleagues across the table. All of the photos had been collected at the end of the evening and presented to Van Ness, who had spread them all out on the table for everyone to giggle and admire one another’s silly faces and poses.

The realization struck you that your husband must have kept the photo he had taken that night, a photo with you at it’s center. It was worn, smudged along the edges and showing creases and a small tear in one corner. Clearly it was handled regularly.

“Hey.” The gruff rasp of your husband’s voice startled you and you looked up at him guilty. “You ready to get outta here…?” He stopped short when he saw the book in your hand, the clippings on the desk, the photograph in your other hand.

“I’m sorry!” Your first instinct was to apologize; clearly this wasn’t something he wanted people to see. “I didn’t…” You quickly moved from being apologetic to feeling tears well up in your eyes as you remembered: “even though this marriage didn’t work out”...from “Sofia”. You looked up at him. “Javi?” You could only choke out his name by way of question.

Javi’s face transformed to worry when he heard your voice say his name. He moved quickly to crouch next to you in his desk chair.

“Hey, hey...it’s ok. What is it? Whatsa matter?” He put a callused hand along your cheek, searching your eyes for an explanation. You could only look back down at the book in your hands.

“Is our marriage over?” You asked him, tears starting to fall. His brows came together in confusion and he spoke softly.

“What? What do you...what do you mean, sweetheart?” You flipped back to the front cover of the book, smoothing out the note from “Sofia”.

“Who’s Sofia Flores?” You held your breath, waiting for him to look guilty, ashamed, abashed at being found out, but you saw realization flutter across his eyes and his face relaxed; he released a puff of air...almost a small laugh, and he stood, leaning carefully on the desk next to you, wiping a hand across his face.

“No. No, sweetheart...it’s not what you think.” He looked at you for a moment, studying you carefully. “Do you remember...do you remember me telling you about Lorraine?” You nod and the next instant, you feel relief come over you. Lorraine: his former fiancé back in Texas. He had told you about her once, one late night at the office when you had both sipped a little too much whiskey and started swapping stories about miserable past relationships. Lorraine: who had always put him down, made him feel like he was never good enough, a piece of shit, who demeaned the things he had found interesting. You had never met the woman, but you remember feeling that night like you had never hated anyone as much as you hated her for treating Javi so poorly. You also remember thinking to yourself that night how incredibly wrong someone could be about another human being. But then again, you hadn’t been engaged to Javier Peña….yet. Javi sees it click in your face and continues.

“Sofia Flores was my mom. She gave me this,” he gently takes the book from you, “right after I left Lorraine...right before I came here. She taught herself English with this.” He held the book up, pride sparking behind his eyes at the memory of his mother. You nodded, remembering him telling you how she had passed during his first few months in Columbia; it had been sudden and he hadn’t even known she was sick until it was too late. He hadn’t been able to get back in time to say goodbye…You noticed him swallow hard as he saw the articles about you spread on the desk.

“What about…”you gesture to the clippings, the photo in your hand. “What about all of these? Why do you have all this stuff about me stuck in here? Why don’t you keep these at home?” He looked uncomfortable for a moment, like he was caught at something somehow.

“I, uh….I just...I had ‘em tucked away from...before we were…” He stopped himself, seeming to think carefully about what to say next. Then he looked from the articles to you and then away again, almost shy. “I guess...I had a little crush on you when we were partners and...I just never took ‘em out of there after...things changed.” He took the photo from you, looking at it for a moment, then back at you; for a moment he looked like a little boy waiting to be yelled at for breaking a window with his baseball. You smiled up at him and his face relaxed, returning the smile with a small one of his own. He cleared his throat and straightened from the desk, returning the articles and picture back to their spot in the middle of the book and quickly depositing the book into a desk drawer. He held his hand out to you and pulled you to your feet. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, taking a step closer to him and keeping hold of his hand for a moment when he let go. He looked surprised by your closeness, then smiled down at you again, carefully. You stood on your tiptoes and carefully kissed him; a chaste, quick kiss lasting only a moment or two, but you felt a current dance between your connected lips, like sparks from an incorrectly attached jumper cable. His eyes stayed closed for several seconds after you broke the kiss and settled back onto your feet; you smiled at how in awe of the taste of you he seemed to be. Your smile turned into a grin when he opened his eyes and met your gaze, smiling softly back at you. “I’m starving, actually.”

You slid your arm through your husband’s as the two of you left the office and headed for a late lunch.

****

You’re a fuckin’ moron, Peña! Javier had thought to himself instantly when he had walked back into his office and seen her sitting at his desk with the Rumi book in her hand. He’d panicked when he’d heard her say his name and seen the tears in her eyes. He’d quickly realized the confusion and had breathed easy knowing she hadn’t been angry with him.

Once more he felt like a creep when he realized she had found the articles and picture he had kept tucked away inside it. He saw her everyday in clearer situations: her beautiful face on the phone, tongue between her lips, determining if a tip is legitimate; listening through headphones as she giggled trying to seduce an informant; watching beads of sweat drip down her neck and the sound of her heavy pants after she’s finished running down a narco in the dusty streets.

He’s not proud to admit that he has thrown his imagination to any one of these memories on the occasion when he would not seek out a woman to distract him and he had instead unbuttoned his jeans and pumped himself to the thought of his partner. That seemed to have been happening more and more in recent months, but he hadn’t ever used those photos for THAT.

He kept these for the even more frequent occasion when he would close his office door, stare at her face and reread one of those poems for the millionth time, feeling when he did a balloon expand inside his chest with yearning for her...aching to hold her close to him and whisper those lines in her ear; truths about how he felt about her.

Now, he refused to acknowledge how much it made his heart sing as they walked through the outdoor market a few minute’s walk from their apartment. They had returned home and had lunch, no new memories having made an appearance with exposure to their place of work. She had been frustrated by and he had suggested they go for a walk, get out of the apartment some more...it was a beautiful day after all.

Now, they wandered past the tables and stalls of brightly colored pineapples, papayas, bananas, peppers and avocados, stopping occasionally to buy something for dinner or pausing for her to admire a woven bag. She spoke Spanish to the merchants easily, a good sign, he thought, that her long term memories were strong.

He discreetly admired his partner’s profile as she stopped to look at a bright display of flowers, enquiring about price from the kind, toothless, stooped older woman manning the stall. She paid the lovely worker and put her nose to the large white bouquet of petals and Javi felt his heart nearly stop.

She was so beautiful.

...It took him a moment to realize something was wrong, but when he noticed her stiffen and her brow furrow, he was next to her in an instant, his hand on her elbow, quietly saying her name. She looked at him...but didn’t see him for a few moments, her gaze was elsewhere, seeing something else. He knew she was remembering something.

“I remember…”she started, blinking her eyes and looking back down at the flowers in her hands. “Plumeria…” she said quietly. “I remember we were next to...a swimming pool? You and I? It was nighttime.”

Javi knew exactly what she had remembered. He gulped, saying nothing, not wanting to distract her from remembering. She continued following the thread of memory the scent of the flowers had unlocked.

“We were…” Her face flushed suddenly and she glanced up at him, then away again almost immediately. “...together. You...had me up against…” she gulped, the blush in her face turning a deeper scarlet. Javi remembered, too.

They’d made an early exit from Ortiz’s dinner party; she had feigned a headache. They had believed Ortiz’s lab was beneath his pool, the entrance through the pool house in the back of his home. While everyone else had been occupied with the forth course and an unknown number of drinks, the two of them had slipped back around the premises, creeping along the sparkling pool, trying to find some clue to get them into the lab, something they could use to get a warrant.

Javi had heard the noise from the guards making their rounds first, and he had yanked his partner by the elbow, pressing her back up against one of the plumeria trees, shoving one knee between her legs, gripping her ass with one hand and holding her head carefully with the other as he shoved his mouth against hers. She had fallen into the ruse seamlessly, recognizing instantly what he was doing. Her hands gripped fistfuls of his hair, one leg coming up to wrap around his waist, drawing her skirt up and giving his hips more access to the space between her legs.

Even though it was only pretend, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from growing hard...being so close to her sex he had found himself grinding himself into her without thinking, eliciting a small moan from her mouth. He had torn his lips away and begun devouring her neck, making her gasp into the thick, flower scented air and signaling their location to the guards. He had snaked his hand up the front of her dress and pulled down, releasing her breast to the cool night air. She had pulled his head down and thrust her groin along the hard outline of his cock and he had gladly taken the pert nipple into his mouth, relishing in the sensation the soft pebble made between the gentle ministrations of his teeth.

“Perdón por interrumpir, Señor Sanchez,” The two of them had sprung apart, reacting to Javier’s pseudonym, playing up the caught couple. Despite the act, though, Javi had looked at her as she’d straightened her dress, running a hair through her hair and he couldn’t help admire her swollen lips from his kisses and the flush on her cheeks. He had seen something in your eyes, reflecting what he felt himself.

That hadn’t been all fake.

“I...I don’t remember anything other than...us...against the tree.” Her voice snapped him back out of the memory; she was staring at the flowers in her hand sadly, grasping for more of the memory.

He didn’t particularly want her to remember what had happened next.

That night they had been found out. They had been followed back to their “home” and both beaten, separated for a time in different rooms. He had heard her yelling and had heard over and over the sound of crashes and fists and palms meeting flesh amidst the sounds of the same happening to him. He had shouted, too, wanting her to know he was still there, he was still with her, they were still in it together. Later, after the sicarios had given them both a rest, they had been reunited when they were dragged into “their” bedroom and secured to their respective places, whispering to one another, made to wait through the dark hours of the early morning...until Ortiz’s men had returned when the sun had come up.

The rest, he didn’t want to think about.

“Well…” His voice was gruff from the thought of how close he had come to losing her that day. “That’s something. That was...recent...just a few weeks ago.” She looked at him curiously, clearly able to see that he was reacting differently to the memory of them kissing passionately beneath a plumeria tree. She said his name, a question filling the sound. He looked at her and forced a small smile. “That’s good.” He said quietly, reaching for her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go home.”

Javier laid awake in the darkness of the living room, trying not to think about that night again for the millionth time. The blanket was scratchy on his bare chest; he kicked it off of him and lay there, listening to the sound of the pounding rain outside, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating the apartment, thunder crashing and rumbling loudly. He hated that he would always have that memory of her, calling out, yelling in terror and panic.

He sat up….had he dozed off? He thought he had heard her screaming his name again, just like she had from the other room that fateful night.

Then he heard it again.

“JAVI!!”

He was down the hall and next to her on the bed faster than he could take a breath. She was curled in a ball, the covers soaked from sweat and kicked off of her, shaking furiously. In the light from a flash of lightning, he saw that her eyes were closed tightly, her face contorted into a terrified mask. She was having a nightmare...

...and was calling out for him.

He carefully placed his hands on her shoulders, gently nudging her, not wanting to frighten her more upon waking, but wanting desperately to rescue her from the terror of her dream. She screamed as she bolted upright, nearly knocking her head into his. He gripped her shoulders firmly as her arms flailed out around her, fighting against him.

“Heyheyhey...easy, it’s me….its just me. It’s Javi.” She recognized him after a moment, and he continued to murmur that he was there, that she was ok, that he had her, that it had just been a bad dream; she flung herself into his arms. He held her against him, soothing her, whispering to her like she was a child, feeling her body shake. He felt warm, wet drops on his chest and knew she was crying. He gripped his arms around her more tightly, trying with all of his might to will her peace, a feeling of being safe.

They stayed that way for a long time, him stroking her hair, murmuring into her ear, rocking her gently against him. Finally, he felt her take a shaky breath and she whispered against his chest:

“It felt so real. I was tied to a bed and...there was a man...he was trying to…” her voice choked into a sob once more and he felt the tears start to wet his chest again.

“Shhhhh….shhhhhh. It’s ok.” His voice was hoarse from sleep, cigarettes, fear...memories. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.” He buries his face in her hair and breathes her name. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ve got you.”

More time passes. Her breathing settles and her tears dry, but he continues to hold her. He feels the tension in her body release itself, little by little and she takes a deep, shaky breath before pulling back to look at him. The room is still dark and the rain still pours down outside, but the thunder has passed, is getting softer.

“It was just a nightmare.” She whispers, almost to herself.

He can’t bring himself to correct her; that it was a memory. Not tonight, he thinks.

She’s staring into his chest, appearing to think about something carefully. He moves to unwrap himself from her, to settle her back into bed, but she grips his forearms firmly, stopping him from pulling away.

“Stay.” She breathes and he almost doesn’t hear it. He thinks for a moment, telling himself he shouldn’t. It’s not a good idea. But then she lifts her eyes to meet his and in the near darkness he sees them sparkle and she whispers: “Please. Stay with me.”

He doesn’t say anything. He just carefully bores her backwards until she’s lying on her back, her head on her pillow. He hovers above her, gazing down at her like a lover...like a husband might do before kissing his wife and bringing her to ecstasy…

...He shifts himself to lie next to her, behind her and he pulls her back against his chest, feeling her legs move to tangle with his. He reaches down to straighten the sheets and pulls them over top of both of them, then wraps his arms around her. He listens to her breathing get heavier and slow and he’s sure she must be asleep. Just as he thinks about closing his own eyes, she turns and rolls to face him, wrapping her own arms around him, too and burying her face in his neck. He’s sure she can feel his pulse pounding frantically, but she simply sighs softly, her breath skimming across his skin. Her breathing slows and deepens once again. She’s asleep.

Javi sighs, remembering the taste of her lips during that sweet, innocent kiss in his office earlier that day. Closing his own eyes, he buries his face in her hair, drifting off to sleep with the weight of her in his arms.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

#javier peña x reader #javi #narcos #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #undercover marriage

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love-sapphirerose · 3 years

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Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 16 Review

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-16/.168486

I got a bad feeling about "Double-Edged Moroha" from the moment it started. You'd think, given that last week's episode randomly decided to break away from the story to have a flashback story time with Riku, that the show would take even a scant minute or two to establish things like context and pacing: Where the girls are. Why they are there. Some vague idea about how long it has been since that godforsaken misadventure with the Rapey Mountain Arsonist. You know, the simple stuff that helps the audience figure out what the hell is going on. But no, it doesn't even take a couple of seconds for Yashahime to start screwing up the most basic rules of “How to Tell a Coherent Story”, as we're plunged right into the middle of some anonymous mountain valley or something, with Moroha staring down Yawaragi, telling her cousins that there's some major beef going back three whole years that needs settling. If you don't recognize who this woman is, she's one of the Wolf Tribe members who has appeared exactly one time in the series before now, in a single frame from the very end of last-week's episode.

It honestly feels like something got supremely screwed up in the show's pre-production, and the Yashahime staff realized that they needed to cut an episode right out of the middle of the run, so they took the final scenes from the episode that led up to this climactic showdown between Moroha and Yawaragi, cut everything else that came before it, and slapped it on to the beginning of “Double-Edged Moroha”. Maybe that would explain the seemingly arbitrary placement of the Big Reveal episode from last week? The way it was written meant it could have been aired at almost any time and made an equal amount of sense (read: Not a whole lot), and the only information from “Farewell Under the Lunar Eclipse” that ties into “Double-Edged Moroha” at all is that Moroha ended up with Kouga and the wolves when her parents got sucked into the Black Pearl. If we hadn't gotten that single shot of Moroha being left to the wolves by Hachi, then “Double-Edged Moroha” would have come across as completely nonsensical. As it stands, it's now only 95% nonsense, which is technically an improvement. Good job, I guess?

If you couldn't tell, this was yet another episode of Yashahime that made me absolutely furious with how poorly written and executed it was, but in order to fully explain why, I'll need to cover the events of “Double-Edged Moroha” in chronological order, because the flashback-structure of the episode is stupid and pointless. We begin with the very last flashback, which shows us how Yawaragi attempted to train Moroha in the art of mastering her demonic transformations. We later learn that Kagome apparently placed a seal on these powers in some scene that we never got to actually see because the show was too busy failing at Towa and Setsuna's backstories, but Yawaragi decided to give Moroha the power to transform into Beniyasha with the rouge. Yawaragi then spends years yelling at Moroha for relying on the rouge too much and warning her about how too many transformations will result in her becoming a permanently bloodthirsty monster, so, uh, great call there, Yawaragi. Really thought that one through.

Anyways, one of the days Moroha goes berserk with her Beniyasha self and ends up calling down the wrath of a horde of

terribly-animated Birds of Paradise

before passing out. Instead of doing the logical thing and running away, Yawaragi just sort of stands there and decides they're screwed. That's when a weasel man (who is very helpfully named “Weasel Man”) wanders into frame from literally nowhere and offers to sell Yawaragi the Armor of the Iron Rat he's wearing, so that she can blow up the Birds of Paradise and whatnot. Not only is the completely random appearance of this obviously sketchy weasel not draw Yawaragi's suspicions at all, she also doesn't seem to find it odd that the guy can't even remove the armor himself without getting another person to unlock it with a key. Keep in mind that, for the entire duration of this stupid, stupid conversation, Yawaragi could have very easily just run away from all those birds and hid in a cave or something, but no, she casually takes the armor from the weasel, and wouldn't you know it, the darned thing is cursed to eventually crush its wearer to death unless they pay an exorbitant fee to the smithy rats for another key.

This is, to put it mildly, a very silly chain of events that do not paint Yawaragi in the smartest light, but we just have to roll with it, because that set of Iron-Rat Armor is precisely why Moroha has found herself sold into indentured servitude for the last three years. You see, Yawaragi decided that Moroha needed to complete the “crucible of Kodoku”, which has the eleven-year-old fighting a horde of demons in a spooky cave by herself to…get stronger, and master fighting without relying on Beniyasha, somehow? Yawaragi claims that Moroha needs to absorb the powers of the strongest demon in the cave, but she definitely did not do that, and we've never seen any of these so-called disastrous consequences of the Beniyasha transformation so far, which makes the entire venture basically pointless for our little heroine. For Yawaragi's part, the whole thing seems to have been an excuse to do some gambling with Jyubei, because she previously lost a bunch of ryou in the demon gambling house, which one apparently has to travel through in order to even get to the Crucible of Kodoku; also she needs, like, thirteen Ryou in order to buy a key for the armor that is going to eventually kill her. All of this leads to Jyubei offering to buy Moroha as his own little bounty-hunting slave, which Yawaragi accepts instantaneously, and there you have it: The ridiculous, contrived, and ultimately meaningless explanation for why Moroha has been trying to buy her way out of debt for three years.

Then, the second flashback, which is actually the most recent chronologically, shows us how it took Yawaragi three whole years to get to that damned hidden village of rats, only to discover that Konton arrived just beforehand and killed all of them. Whoopsie! We even get a nice shot of a dead rat mother cradling the corpse of her rat child – a weirdly dark moment that Yashahime certainly hasn't earned or anything – just to remind you that these Four Perils are super evil and powerful (despite the fact that they keep getting their asses kicked by a trio of teenagers who can barely be bothered to acknowledge their existence). Konton makes a deal with Yawaragi that he'll hand over the key if she kills Moroha and the others, and she accepts. “But!” Yashahime then asks, “Is she really going to betray her adopted daughter figure? Or is Yawaragi preparing Moroha for the final and most important lesson of her training?”

The answer is clearly supposed to be that second one, but Yashahime is just so goddamn bad at even the simplest character writing that the point doesn't land. Throughout all of these flashbacks, Moroha and Yawaragi have been dueling one-on-one, with Towa and Setsuna being told to sit uselessly on the sidelines, and Yawaragi keeps insisting that Moroha use her “creative imagination” to beat her, instead of relying on the rouge. This kind of falls flat when Moroha's victory just comes from her busting out a new special move, the Crimson Dragon Wave, which is neither a creative or imaginative resolution to the fight. Every Yashahime fight boils down to some combination of the girls' different special attacks, so why is this any different?

Way late in the episode, Konton suddenly teleports into the fight to gloat at Yawaragi. Nobody else really notices or acknowledges Konton's arrival, though you'd think this is the point where Towa and Setsuna would get off their butts and do something, because it isn't like Moroha's honor would be besmirched by kicking Konton's ass again. The show even forgets to include Konton in the next couple of shots of Yawaragi reacting to Moroha's attacks, even though it is absolutely critical that he be standing right behind her, because when Moroha unleashes the Crimson Dragon Wave, she whips behind Konton to hold him down in an act of self-sacrifice.

Here's the kicker, though: The guy can teleport. Yawaragi just saw him do this, and not thirty seconds earlier! So it shouldn't be surprising to anybody when Konton uses his Rainbow Pearl powers to teleport out of Yawaragi's arms and escapes anyways while the other girls throw some useless attacks at him. So, to recap: The audience learns that Yawaragi created the whole issue of Moroha's Beniyasha transformation in the first place, and she then spent years fruitlessly attempting to undo the problem, including purchasing a deadly set of cursed armor from a random weasel that was traipsing about the forest one day. All of this led to Moroha being sold to Jyubei, which was ultimately pointless because Yawaragi just ended up being coerced into attacking Moroha by Konton, and the one thing that might have made this entire cavalcade of terminally stupid decisions worthwhile – killing Konton – ended up being foiled by random Rainbow Pearl Powers. In other words, absolutely nothing of importance was learned, the girls are not one step closer to any of their goals, and Moroha inadvertently murdered Yawaragi for no reason. It is positively stunning when Yawaragi dies, and the show has the gall to play the moment off like some huge, emotional payoff…except Moroha is more or less fine by the time the credits roll.

Good Lord, this show is continuing to outdo itself in all of the worst ways. I won't damn it with the non-score of Episode 14, because “Double-Edged Moroha” at least has some halfway-decent looking action to try and distract you from how bad everything else is. I did, however, spend far too much time teaching myself how to use image-editing software so I could slap together this dumb meme that perfectly sums up my feelings about Yashahime at the moment. That said, it was probably more time and effort than anybody working on the show spent going over its sorry excuse of a script.

#anti yashahime #anti hanyo no yashahime #anti towa #inuyasha

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erekiosuncreativeideas · 4 years

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Being Human - Chapter 13

<= Chapter 12

Summary : Snatcher makes up with the kids Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/24826561/chapters/65582983

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Another chapter, yohoo ! I hope you'll like it ! Thank you for all your lovely comments, you're all so nice !!

The “Oh The Humanity” AU belongs to @doodledrawsthings !

Happy reading !

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Chapter 13 - “What’s ‘Corgi Quest’?”

With Cooking Cat to help him to stay stable in the hallway, going back to the spaceship hub was easier. Snatcher didn’t like being reminded of how weak he looked at the moment, but he had managed to push his pride aside, if only for a brief moment. The cat was nice and considerate enough to make no comments about it, which was more than welcome for the former spirit.

It didn’t take them long to leave the first hallway and to cross the machine room. When they reached the second and last hallway before reaching the hub, voices could be heard from the other side of the door, informing them that the little girls were there. Suddenly, Snatcher felt his heart sunk in his chest. God, why was he reacting this way! There was literally nothing to be afraid of! It wasn’t the first time he had angered the brats and it certainly wouldn’t be the la-

Wait. Why was he even worried about that anyway? He was the powerful ghost of Subcon Forest! He had killed so many people and now he was worried about little children being mad at him? Oh please, what a joke. He rolled his eyes at himself, Gods, he was so stupid.

A little pat on his hand cut his thoughts short, catching his attention. Just like before, Cooking Cat was patting him, trying to reassure him, to comfort him. Ugh.

-“It’ll be okay,” she assured with a smile: “I’m sure they forgave you already.”

The former spirit glanced away, both irritated and embarrassed, because heck, he hated being this easy to read. How was she even able to do that? Well, it didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was annoying and that it made Snatcher think about things he’d rather ignore. He let out a long and exhausted sigh, turning to the cat with a scowl on his face:

-“Oh please, I don’t care what they think. They might as well be sulking, it changes absolutely nothing for me,” he groaned, more than exasperated: “All I care about is to be dead again. That’s all.”

The other only nodded her head as an answer. She probably knew it was best not to argue with him on that topic, considering how sensitive it was for the moment. Whatever wanted to say at his words, she kept it for herself, staying silent and motionless instead. She was waiting for him to approach the door for it to open, not rushing him.

Gods. He was so ridiculous.

The former ghost took a deep breath and, ignoring how much his legs felt like cotton, took a few steps towards the door. As soon as it opened, the mechanical sound echoing all around, it was like a weight settled on his stomach, twisting his guts as soon as his eyes spotted the two little girls. They had changed and were now wearing coloured pyjamas, still wearing their signature headgear, weirdly enough. They were sitting in front of the television, watching, no, doing something with it? He wasn’t sure what, he was not very informed regarding new technologies, considering he lived in the same forest for centuries. They were holding weird things in their hands, black devices with coloured buttons on it. Whatever they were doing, they were also bumping each other with their shoulders, loud high-pitched giggles resonating in the room. However, when they heard the door, they both turned around in his direction.

-“Oh, you’re back,” started the hatted brat, her voice almost passive aggressive. Yep, she was mad, just like he had thought. She seemed to make an effort as her younger friend “discretly” nudged her in the back, instructing her to be nice: “You feeling better?” she asked with a more neutral tone.

Did he feel better? He supposed he did, though it was hard to say. His mind was like a cacophony of thoughts, all very, very different from one another. Some part of him did feel better, it was true, while his pride was screaming at how sappy and mushy the whole situation was. It was most likely this part of himself that snapped earlier, or had at least contributed to his meltdown. It really was strange and uncomfortable to say the least.

-“Yeah,” he replied, still with a grumpy expression on his face: “guess so.”

He had been tempted to go with his usual approach, putting a show with the loud persona he had fabricated through the centuries. After all, it had almost completely fused with his, well, original personality, having been kept in a cold cellar for days changing him greatly, just like the after-life did. He was not the nice and compassionate Prince anymore. He was The Snatcher, a powerful soul-stealing ghost that had no remorse over killing people for his own survival and, by now, even for fun. And yet… And yet, sometimes, putting on the mask that had become such a second nature to him became… Difficult. Unnatural.

Right now was one of those times.

For a brief instant, he thought he saw a remorseful look on the hat-wearing child’s expression, though it quickly died down as he glanced away. She looked like she wanted to forgive him, but it was a bit too early for her to completely do so. At least, that’s what Snatcher thought it meant, it wasn’t like he was some kind of social behaviour specialist. If anything, law was his forte, but this? He was just guessing at this point.

His thoughts were cut short as the bow-wearing kid joined the conversation, lifting a plate of grilled cheese sandwich that had been on the ground until now. She was smiling at him, yet it was easy to see she was somewhat trying to hide her unease behind a warm expression:

-“We saved some for you,” she informed him with a gentle voice before cringing a bit as she glanced down at the food: “… Well, it’s cold now, but we can always reheat it later when you want!”

Snatcher frowned, feeling something akin to guilt rise in his chest. It felt wrong, so, so wrong, and he couldn’t help but grit his teeth. He normally didn’t care about being the bad guy, about being unfair or mean, or, well, murderous. Yet, there was something in this very specific situation that gave him an awful feeling of shame, one he really wished he could ignore.

What was happening to him?

-“Yeah, fine,” he simply replied, embarrassment unfortunately clearly audible in his voice as he walked closer, not comfortable enough to say the magic word just yet. It just got stuck in his throat. Thankfully, the kids didn’t mention it. Just as he was about to ask what they were doing with the television and what they were holding in their hands, Cooking Cat’s voiced echoed just behind them:

-“Well,” she started, straightening her chef’s hat with her usual smile: “it’s getting late, I think it’s time for me to go home. I had a lot of fun today, thank you for inviting me!” she said to the kids before turning to him: “I hope you’ll teach me how to tell scary stories soon! But, on a more serious note, I really hope your wish to be a ghost again will come true. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to experience being alive after so much time as a spirit.”

Snatcher glanced away:

-“It’s… Not so great, yeah,” he confirmed with a frown.

Her smile disappeared for a bit, quickly replaced by a serious and compassionate expression:

-“Don’t push yourself too hard,” she advised with a caring tone: “Do what you can and if that doesn’t work out, it’s okay. You’ve been human for a day or two, barely, and I can only guess how much it is to take in. Try being nicer to yourself, it’s fine to fail sometimes.”

The former ghost scoffed at how corny this all was. Oh sure, what a great idea to rest and relax while his crazy ex could wreck havoc in his forest, freezing everything and everyone again! Of course, he’d have the right to, since he could “be nicer to himself” and that it was “fine to fail sometimes”! And if he came back to see the whole forest being covered in ice again, well, “whoopsie daisy!”, right?!

What a joke.

Cooking Cat could obviously tell that Snatcher wasn’t taking her words well, but knew better than to insist. She looked away, a bit embarrassed, though she tried to smile again. She turned to the children, who had watched the scene, silently:

-“Can you teleport me down there?” she gestured to the floor, or what was under it. The planet.

-“Yeah, of course,” replied the hatted girl, moving to the control panel, before waving at her: “See you soon, Cookie!”

The younger kid soon imitated her:

-“See you, take care!”

The cat looked happier from the kids’ kind words and waved back at them. Her eyes then glanced to the former spirit, smiling back at him:

-“Goodbye, Snatcher. I hope I’ll see you soon as well, in your true form this time,”

Snatcher only nodded in response, feeling all the stares being fixed on him once more. He liked attention, sure… But not like this. This one was oppressive, stressful and… In this meat sack of a body, he didn’t feel completely safe. However, Cooking Cat seemed satisfied with his answer, and nodded to the hat-wearing little girl, telling her she was ready for teleportation. Honestly, the man couldn’t help but be impressed at her calm face: his own experience through scientific teleportation was… Not a good one. He had always been fine teleporting magically, but this? This could be labelled as a vomit-inducing machine and he wouldn’t even be surprised.

The cat disappeared in a blink, a blue light quickly engulfing her for a second before it was gone, leaving no trace from her, as if she had never come onto the ship.

Silence fell in the room as the trio was left alone once more. The atmosphere was tense, almost palpable, no one knowing what to say after everything that had happened in only one single day. After all, it was a lot, it made sense that tensions started to appear after a while. Well, perhaps they mostly appeared because of him, but it didn’t matter.

Eventually, after a while, the bow-wearing kid gestured to the television with an awkward smile:

-“Wanna keep on playing Corgi Quest?” she offered, winking at the hatted brat, once more very “discreetly”. But it seemed to work as the other sighed yet shrugged nonetheless, visibly exhausted from the events of the day:

-“Yeah, fine, sounds good to me.”

Snatcher watched them walk to the television and sit on the nearby coloured pillows. Confusion was plastered on his face as he wondered what they could be talking about. ‘Corgi Quest’? What was that? Was it what they were doing before he and Cooking Cat entered the room? Was this a “TV thing” he wasn’t aware about? That could very well be the case, seeing as he only knew what a television was from what he learnt with his ex-contractors.

So, not a lot, considering they didn’t live long enough to explain what it was in further details. Not like he had thought he would need it someday, though…

-“What’s ‘Corgi Quest’?” he questioned, voicing his confusion, glancing at the kids then the television repeatedly, trying to understand.

-“Our favourite video game,” answered the hatted child, picking up one of the device from earlier -what was it?-, pushing some of the buttons and… Controlling what was happening on the screen? What? His brow furrowed even more: how did that work?

-“It sounds pretty simple, but Corgi Quest actually has a deep storyline!” added the younger child, her eyes full of stars: “It’s also very cute, and there’s even a multiplayer mode! Much better than in the last game, Corgi Quest 6. Oh yeah, we’re playing the 7th one, but you don’t need to have played the oth-”

-“Woah, woah, kiddo, stop,” interrupted Snatcher by lifting his hands in the air, already feeling a headache coming up just from hearing about all this stuff he couldn’t understand. What were they even talking about? He took a deep breath and pinched his nose, stopping soon afterwards. Wait, he never did that before, was it because he had a nose now?

-“First, I don’t care about all of that,” he established, though it was a lie: he was curious, at least on the way this was working: “Second, what the heck is a video game?”

This was a simple question, really, one he thought was basic and pretty common… And yet, as soon as the words left his mouth, the two children gasped as if he had insulted their parents in the worst possible ways. Wait, did he ever do that? He didn’t remember. Still, they were staring at him with wide eyes, clearly not believing a single word he had just said. Was it that obvious? If it was, why didn’t he hear about that from his victi- oh wait, right, he usually killed them before they got the chance to talk. Not that he wanted to, life outside of his forest didn’t interest him usually. And it wasn’t like talking with his “brain-dead servants” were entertaining, hearing them scream in pain was though.

His thoughts were cut short as the little girls exclaimed at the same time:

-“You don’t know what a video game is?!”

Snatcher shook his head, warier and warier as seconds passed. This was getting extremely suspicious and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anymore, given the reactions he got just from not knowing whatever that thing was. In any case, apparently, said thing was pretty famous or at least common now.

The two kids shared a knowing and decided look, as if they telepathically agreed on something.

All of a sudden, Snatcher felt like he should have kept his mouth shut. But he didn’t have the time to think more, as the bow-wearing little girl moved behind him and pushed him more towards the television, while the older kid placed more pillows on the floor for him to sit on.

-“Wait, wait, what-” The former ghost tried to protest, but was interrupted as the brats forced him to sit down, his opinion clearly ignored from now on. Soon, one of the strange-looking device was placed in his hands, and he turned his head to the kids, even more perplexed than before.

-“Okay, so you definitely failed in life just not knowing what a video game was,” informed the hat-wearing child, an exaggerated look of disappointment in her eyes: “Allow us to educate you on that topic.”

-“Trust us,” added the younger one, placing her hand on her chest as if what she was saying was extremely important -when it wasn’t-: “We’re specialists.”

Snatcher’s confusion was now reaching new heights. He had no idea what they were talking about, and he was so bewildered by what was happening that, despite his wish to protest, his voice got stuck in his throat. His brain was trying so very hard to understand what was happening, but soon, the brats sat next to him… And started to explain things and concepts he had no idea existed before.

How did this even happen…? Whatever the answer was… Snatcher knew he was stuck with them until he learnt what those ‘video game’ things were.

This was it. Snatcher was cursed, and he had the feeling this was not going to end soon.

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Well, everything goes well ! Isn't that wonderful ? Truly, it would be such a SHAME if SOMEONE were to ruin that................. Not that it's going to happen or anything !! ... Unless...?

:)c

Anyway, thank you all for your comments, they mean so much to me !

=> Chapter 14

#A Hat In Time #ahit #ahit fanfiction #snatcher #cooking cat #hat kid #HK #bow kid #BK #fanfiction #Being Human #ahit being human #BH #erekio bh #my art #oth #Oh The Humanity AU

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Match up! (~˘▾˘)~

Hi again…can I get an Ikevamp match-up? I got curious on who I would end up with tbh😅😅😅

About myself…I never lose a temper, I am extremely shy and quiet, it’s extremely difficult for me to trust new people. I am around 5'9 feet tall, above shoulder length messy brown hair tied into a ponytail; I would be mistaken for a boy if I let my hair down. I wouldn’t even notice if they mistook me for a boy until someone addresses me as one😅😅😅. I look intimidating at first sight because 1.)I am silent most of the time, I look cold and aloof, I never smile, and 2.) I can be blunt without noticing + my difficulty of showing emotions would make them think I’m judging their soul *yikes…whoops?😅😅😅*. That intimidates most people and when in reality when I am the one who feels more intimidated by them. 😅😅

Once I warm up, I have this side that only my family and close friends know. I get along well with anybody; I won’t judge people for their race, beliefs, personality, religion, and all. It doesn’t exist here when I befriend them 😊. I have this weird sense of humor that can turn dark and morbid without noticing… 😅😅 I am like a child at Christmas when it comes to new art supplies, baking, and cooking new recipes; I love sharing it with my family and friends. I can compare my strength to a guy and I can carry heavy things without a problem😅… I love to play the guitar and I used to play the piano when I was younger and I missed playing it. I’m extremely rusty after not practicing for 7 years now😥. I can still read music notes, and it will take longer for me to navigate the piano if I play it. I mostly draw and paint right now tho…

I’m not a fan of wearing girly clothes, and I would rather stick to wearing good ol’ shirts, polo (long/short sleeves), pants, and hoodies style. I avoid drinking alcohol because I easily get tipsy; I’d turn into a loud drunk after a few sips. My friends would often keep me away from who knows what they’re reading and watching stuff… Told me that they don’t want me to taint my innocent eyes and soul or something like that…I never cuss even if I’m used to hearing my classmates swear like a sailor. The first time my friends hear me accidentally swear, they look at me in horror and demanded me to know where I got that word🤣🤣

I don’t like loud and crowded places, I would feel dizzy and suffocated if I stayed there for too long. There will be times on where I’m nowhere to be found since I would look for an isolated place somewhere around the corner for me to hide whenever I want to draw or paint. I am not really confident of my skills in drawing; I have a bad habit of hiding those from my family *which annoys them*. I have another bad habit of being stubborn whenever I got sick, and I wouldn’t even let anyone know I am unwell because I do not want anyone to worry about me. But when someone noticed, I would admit that I am sick. *I would go to school even when sick so I can finish my school works because, whenever I miss a class, there will always be some of them who would deliberately not tell me that I missed something in class so…i learned the hard way.😅* …

I easily get startled by sudden noises if I let my guard down: objects making a loud sound when they drop. I don’t know how to deal with physical affections and would probably get stiff and flustered. I’m not used to guys hugging me cuz would go stiff whenever a guy hugs me *I love hugs and all but… I’m not used to being hugged by guys… 🙁* I’m a bit of a disaster-prone whenever I’m outside, and would accidentally hit my head on lower tree branches and lower places, sometimes I would accidentally sprain my ankle on the uneven ground *if someone made me wear heels especially if it’s stilettos*. 😅😅😅

Yay: I love my coffee with a ridiculous amount of milk and with less sugar; baking, cooking, sweets, drawing, painting, digital art, music, cats, dogs, pokemon, Manga, anime.

Nay: I despise certain types of vegetables that are bitter and slimy. My face would shrivel up seeing those kinds of vegetables. Animal cruelty is a big no-no for me; I normally don’t get angry, and I forgive people within a blink of an eye *that annoys my family a lot😅* but, I will make an exception for that.

I can control my own anger, that no one can tell I am fuming.

If it’s ok with you…😅😅😅 Took me a long time to figure out how to send a more detailed one. 😂😂 I think that’s enough spilling tmi about myself… Whoopsie…😅😅 🦊🐱🦊🐱

Hi hi love! ❤🌻Thank you so much for the request! I had so much fun writing this up for ya and i hope you enjoy it dear! ❤🦊Also i hope you are keeping safe and well and have a super good day!🐇❤ Also sooooorrrry for taking 2 billion years with this! hehe so without further ado........... @xarexraven

So I match you with…………… Theo

The first time you met everyone, you were so quiet and reserved hiding behind Comte. They took one look at you and instantly thought, “oooh great another male guest.” You were wearing a hoodie and jeans and your hair tie keeping your hair in a ponytail, had just snapped as you walked through the door. Comte gave you a gentle push to introduce yourself, and one look at your intimidating face, had the entire household believing that they had another tsundere in their midst.

During dinner, you had hardly noticed that they all thought you were a boy. The residents all started retiring to their rooms after dessert, when Sebastian handed you a final cup of coffee, “Here you are sir.” Your eyes widened, and you started up at Sebastian in confusion, too shy to correct him/ That is when Comte who was still sitting beside you gave your head a gentle pat, “Sebastian it is quite rude to mistake our precious guest for a boy, especially one who is beautiful.” Both you and Sebastian were left blushing at the comment, that’s when Vincent, who was the only other resident still at the table, spoke up. “I have to agree with Comte, it is not nice to call someone so pretty, a boy.” The resident angel beamed up at you, while Sebastian apologised profusely, and through it all, the only thing you could think was, “man, this is awkward.”

The next morning after Comte explained the whole, everyone in this mansion is a vampire thing, you wandered around the mansion aimlessly. Well, that is until Napoleon came across you and grabbed your hand, dragging you to the dining room, where a feast of sugary goodness laid wait. He told you that he had made way too many pancakes and that they needed help finishing them. No one in the mansion had seen you smile yet, but at the sight of the giant stack of sugary pancakes, you couldn’t help but beam. Vincent had spotted you and flagged you over to sit next to him. “Oi knaap, don’t go hog all the pancakes, save some of the rest of us will you,” Theo loudly exclaimed as you loaded up your plate to a stack of pancakes almost as high and his. At the sound of Theo calling you a boy, Vincent narrowed his eyes at Theo and started scolding his younger brother for being so rude. Theo stared at you in disbelief but with your hair now in a pony tail he simply shrugged and gave you a new nickname “Hondjie”. With the misunderstanding finally cleared up once and for all, you made quick work of polishing off the stack of pancakes with the three men.

After lunch Vincent gave Theo a detailed list of art supplies that he needed, and at the mention of art supplies your ears perked up. Your eyes gleamed in excitement, and your cold, aloof exterior changed to one of an excited child on Christmas morning. Your cheeks were starting to hurt, that had been a record of two smiles in one day. Although even though your smiling felt weird to you, to the three me it was the most beautiful sight. Theo took notice of your enthusiasm and in his typical indifferent voice, asked if you wanted to come along for the ride. You without a second thought nodded, you basically radiated excitement as you went upstairs to put on some shoes and get a jacket. You met Theo out in the foyer, and soon the two of you made your way to the art supply store.

Comte had told you that you were free to break the bank and buy anything and everything your heart desired, on the condition that he would be able to see your first piece of art created with the new supplies.

You were so excited at the thought of new art supplies and being able to continue your passion for art, even though you were stuck in the past, that you let your guard down a little with Theo. He asked you in his usual blunt way, why you were dressed like a boy and not wearing skirts and dresses like other women. You told him that you were most comfortable wearing pants and hoodies. The way your eyes were beaming, low key reminded him of his precious brother, and he found himself low key drawn to your pure, innocent energy.

The two of you spent hours and hours picking out the perfect supplies, you were low key shook at Theo’s knowledge about art and supplies. He actually helped you pick out the best supplies for your personal drawing and painting style. After spending hours in the art shop. The two of you made your way to the waiting carriage, when Theo spotted an ice cream store, his eyes lit up at the thought of sweets. When you saw how excited he was, you suggested that the two of you investigate the shop before heading back.

For the first time in Theo van Gogh whole existence, a woman had paid for him. He was sitting across from you in the ice cream parlour while you were happily eating away at your sugary treat, still trying to process it all. You had paid as a token of thanks for him helping you pick out the best art supplies. What shocked him even more was during argument about the bill you legit gave him a deadpan look and bluntly said that you were ganna treat him no matter what. After that comment you legit left him blushing and speechless, you truly were a strange woman.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments when you finally decided to break the ice. You curiously asked why it was that he knew so much about art, and that’s when he revealed that he was an art dealer. And so the rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about art, paintings, drawings and your mutual passion and appreciation for the trade. To say Theo was pleasantly surprised by you would be an understatement, his first impression of you was now so laughable compared to the person sitting before him. The first time he saw you, he thought you an aloof, little boy who seemed to judge him down to the very depths of his soul. Yet as he got to know you, he had come to realise that there was much more to you.

In the weeks to follow you seemed to surprise Theo more and more. The first thing that had this boy sister shook was your inhuman strength. One day as you were helping Isaac sorts out the library. The two of you had managed to fill up 2 huge boxes of junk and clutter that could be stored in the mansions attic. Isaac lifted one of the boxes and determined that it was too heavy for the both of you, so he went to call Theo or Leo who would have an easier job with doing the heavy lifting. As Theo rounded to the corner to help move the boxes, he almost rammed straight into you. “Oi hondjie, you are going to hurt yourself let me take…” As he took the box from your hands, his face started going red, and a vein in his neck started popping out. The box you had been carrying was obviously almost too heavy for him to carry, he turned around swiftly and started walking up the attic stairs. It took you no time to catch up to him carrying another heavy box of your own. At this point you could see a bead of sweat roll down his face. Theo was determined to carry this box up, there was no way he was going to be shown up by a girl, especially one that he liked. He finally made it to the top of the attic and place the box down with a huff, you had to laugh at the small blush that was still on his cheeks.

Just then out of the corner of your eye, an old piano caught your attention. Theo eyed you curiously still recovering from the blow to his ego, as you sat down on the dusty piano chair and blew the dust of the piano keys. Your fingers moved to their own accord, gliding across the keys to play a familiar song from muscle memory. Theo sat down next to you and closed his eyes to absorb the beautiful melody. As the last note echoed through the attic, Theo opened his eyes, and sapphire eyes glared down into the depths of your soul. He had honestly never in his life felt more drawn to anyone, before he could say anything your stomach gave a loud growl. It was now your turn to blush and look away in embarrassment. Theo then leads you downstairs, where he whipped you up some stroopwafels.

You tied the apron around your waist and helped Theo prepare the sugary dessert. You were so excited and happy, you loved baking and learning/exchanging new recipes. Once the two of you were done making the sweet snack, you sat down and munched on the Stroop waffles and coffee. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about your mutual hate for bitter slimy vegetables and love for dogs as you ate the sugary snack and sipped on coffee. This actually started a tradition between the two of you, where once in a while the two of you would exchange recipes and cook your favourite dishes together.

One day as Theo joined Comte in his room for some tea, he saw a beautiful painting hanging behind Comte, it was just filled with so much emotion. “Hey, Comte, did Vincent paint that one, I haven’t seen it before.” Comte gleamed in delight and told him that you were the artist responsible for the masterpiece and that you had given it to him as a thank you gift for the art supplies. Theo was shook, he knew you loved art but to have created such a masterpiece. He stomped his way to your room and knock on your door. He could hear shuffling from the other side, he swung the door open and spotted you throwing a heap full of tissues in the dustbin and hiding the trashcan behind you. All it took was one look at your red nose, pale face and tired eyes to know that you were clearly sick. You tried to play it off and make your way past Theo to help Sebastian with lunch service, when Theo picked you up and plonked you down on your bed. The second your head hit the pillow, your tired eyes closed and you lost consciousness. You woke a few hours later to Theo sitting by your side gently stroking your hair while placing a cold washcloth on your forehead every now and then. You stubbornly tried to convince him that you weren’t sick. Theo narrowed his eyes at you and in a soft, gentle tone said, “Hondjie can you just stop being stubborn for one minute and let me take care of you.” Theo had nursed you back to full health and you got to see a new side of Theo that you had never seen before, his sweet kind gentle side. It was actually during this time when Theo had confessed his undying love for you.

Theo love love loved your art and would insist you show him your masterpieces once you are done with them. He knew your weren't confident in your skills and would usually hide your drawings so he did what any reasonable person would do. He tickled you until you gave up the hiding spot so he could see your creation.

He also knows you don’t like crowded places or loud noises, so he actually cleared up a room for you to use as your own art room to work in peace, where no one was allowed to disturb you.

He knew you would get dizzy and feel suffocated whenever the two of you would walk through a busy crowd in the markets. So now every time the two of you cuties go out, he was sure to plan your route using back roads to avoid unnecessary crowds or he would bring King along for a walk with you. Even though King is a sweet, friendly golden retriever, he has come to love you and will do whatever it takes to protect the new member of his pack. Even if that means angry staring down people so they can part like the red sea before you and Theo.

Theo absolutely loves you to the moon and back. He loves your sweet innocent mind and will always cover your ears and glare daggers at Arthur whenever he is telling stories of previous nights conquests as he “doesn’t want Arthur to taint your innocent mind and soul.”

He absolutely loves to finally have someone around who gets his dark, morbid sense of humour and who can equally match his weird jokes. Often when the two of you are together, you would be quick-firing the weirdest jokes at each other, while being in stitches laughing at each other.

Theo also loves how you have similar beliefs as him in not judging people. It was due to this that he was completely able to open up about his past with you. You helped him to heal and grow from his past traumas. You helped catch him many a time before falling in the abyss, dragging him out back into the light.

Both of you were pretty awkward when it came to physical affection at the beginning of your relationship. However, after many, a stiff, awkward hug followed by a fit of laughter from how awkward the two of you were, eventually the two of you started to get more comfortable around each other.

Now when Theo cuddles you, as you draw him as a manga character, the two of you chuckle at the memory of how stiff and awkward it was the first time the two of you had even held hands. Theo will 100% always insist on holding your hand whenever the two of you go outside as he knows just how accident-prone you are when it comes to nature.

Ultimately Theo loves to spend quiet evenings with you snuggled up in his arms as the two of you exchange stories of each other days. He loves to read all your little manga’s you manage to create for him. Although he will never admit it, he always gets super excited when you tell him about an anime you watched or show him your newest manga drawing. He will shower you with endless amounts of hugs and cuddles from the moment you go to bed till the moment you wake up. And every morning without fail Theo will greet you with a freshly bred cup of milky coffee and a kiss.

Other potential matches…………… Vincent

I hope you enjoyed this dear and i hope you have the best day! 🦊🌻❤

#matchups #ikesen matchup #match ups #ikevamp matchup #ikevamp match up #theo ikevamp #ikevamp theodorus #Theodorus van Gogh #ikemen vampire theodorus #submission

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tcpimpabutterfly · 3 years

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SEND ME AN AU AND ILL TELL YOU WHAT MY MUSE WOULD BE LIKE IN IT

Status: Accepting

@streetsofsecrets said: bioshock for bella. munroe too ;o; also mafia ii/iii for whoever!

You already know Bella’s nosey self got wind of Rapture some way somehow and managed to wiggle her way in there. I feel like she found a way to get smuggled in illegally because she’s just always taking the risky route.

Of course, she continued her journalism shenanigans and she only had a handful of devoted readers for a minute but her notoriety really picked up in the midst of the civil war. She’s Bella, she had to give the people the truth and her unwarranted opinion because her journalistic integrity is just strong like that. She caught the attention of Jack and he didn’t even hesitate to send a hit out on her, but she survives it because she’s built different like that.

Instead of letting anyone know she’s okay she decides it’s too risky to continue on how she was, so she fakes her death and goes into hiding. But she can’t just not write, she’d die of boredom! But she also can’t let people know she’s alive because they’ll for sure make sure she’s dead this time, so she writes under an alias; Nicki Cod. Why that name? I have no idea, but people don’t care anyways they still eat her writing up anyway. They don’t even care that nobody has ever seen this mysterious ‘Nicki Cod’ or that she just popped up out of nowhere.

As for Munroe, he doesn’t even live in Rapture! Or at least he didn’t use to. He had plugs and connects down in Rapture who would smuggle him ADAM and things alike and in return he would supply them with their regular degular drugs from the surface that they missed like cocaine. He stayed on the top doing what needed to be done and running his newspaper company and they stayed down there doing whatever it was they were doing.

He just so happened to go down there ONCE because something had went awry and because he lowkey wanted to see what it was like down there. And it just so happened that he went at the worst possible time ever; in the midst of the civil war.

He didn’t care about what was going on, who was in the right, or none of that !!! But, he did have a biasness already towards Fontaine since that’s who he was doing business with mainly so he just went ahead and joined forces with him. Because he has the resources down in Rapture, he plays around with ADAM a lot and comes up with new strands every now and then. Some are goofy like “You’ll grow a 6th toe and finger!” While others are actually helpful like....idk something that would be helpful that the game doesn’t already have.

OOOOOH FOR MAFIA II/II THO (but under a read more because I feel like this post is already kinda long):

In her Mafia III AU, Cynthia isn’t married to Leonel at all or even with him. The only child they have together is Smiley and that was kinda a whoopsies on Cynthia’s end. She doesn’t own her own lad either, instead she works in the lower basement part of Olivia’s lab with other people of color as well actually doing scientific things and not making PCP. She transfers intel to Bear Donnelly who then gives it to Lincoln because she’s tired of white people and all these mob-affiliated people!! Once Lincoln takes over he puts the lab in her hands and as an middle ground type agreement, she allows half of the lab to still be used for racketing while the other half is hers.

Naomi’s Mafia III verse is very similar to her Bioshock verse eeexxxcceeeppptttt that she’s still under Dominic’s management in this verse. She’s more of a local celeb and spends most of her days in the French Ward performing at various clubs and basically a spy for the Amicis/Marcanos. They tried to branch her out and had her perform at the fancy little club that I forgot the name of, but the audience rejected her, and it was a kinda traumatic night all around so now she sticks to being something like a city celebrity while they use her voice for another “singer” so their label can be mainstream.

You know that jewelry shop Vito and Joe we’re robbing in the beginning of the game? Yeah, that was Elijah’s. Well at the time it was his dad’s and it prompted him to enlist in the help of the local mafia to help protect their shop from anything else like that happening. Elijah was young when it happened, probably around a teen or tween, so unlike his main verse he grew up around organized crime. He wouldn’t consider himself a gangster, but he’s more hands on with this verse and helps out with more serious favors more often. And now that he’s older taking care of the shop? It’s like a crime hotspot and despite them being the ones who robbed the store all those years ago, he’s good friends with Joe & Vito and gives them intel every time they come snooping around or he’ll let em use his shop for whatever.

Leonel has some roots in Mafia II, but he doesn’t really sprout until Mafia III due to him being a teen in Mafia II’s timeline. His dad is the godson of the don because I said so. Despite this very important connection to the don, he’s really just street rat and minor gangster title, doing hooligan activities with his brothers, up until things start going haywire. Just when he started getting tasked with doing serious shit, like killing influential people type serious, his mom and dad decided to up and leave to New Bordeaux because they knew the chances of them dying were high out in Empire Bay.

#I can go on and on but I feel like I’m writing too much smsndkdndm #also kinda vague stuff for Mafia 2 because I really haven’t played that full game in YEARS #( ANSWERED ASKS. )#( BELLA ANSWERED ASKS. )#( MUNROE ANSWERED ASKS. )#( NAOMI ANSWERED ASKS. )#( CYNTHIA ANSWERED ASKS. )#( ELIJAH ANSWERED ASKS. )#streetsofsecrets

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minecraftoworymode · 4 years

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picked a whole bouquet of whoopsie-daisies the other day reading some Very badfeel content so to cheer myself up here’s some super self-indulgent ramblings about romeo recovery post-s2

“YOU CAN DANCE IF YOU WANT TO YOU CAN LEAVE YOUR INTERNALIZED MISOGYNY BEHIND” or how romeo learned to stop worrying and indulge in the ““feminine”“ shit in life

when romeo transitioned he scrubbed everything that could be potentially viewed as feminine from his appearance and behaviour. while he did everything he could about the former (hairstyle, clothing, body language, voice), it didn’t feel like enough bc he couldn’t change some things that ppl used to be jerks- his frame (short and lithe), his family, his being trans- so he made up for it by trying to “act” like a “real man”. this unfortunately meant he was super vulnerable to manipulative alt-right indoctrination tactics (”we will validate you as a man as long as you endorse our assholery and share our shitty beliefs about what it means to be a man”) and he was on the verge of getting sucked into gamergate ideology when [THIS LORE IS ANOTHER POST] and hey, now the world is minecraft. u dont gotta perform gender roles for villagers they dont care. xara will not only actually eat ur liver for pulling The Bullshit but when you are kind she smiles, so bright and warm, and it is very very nice so maybe you should keep on doing that. n fred? fred is chill with their Everything in a way uve only ever Dreamed of. romeo marinates in this sauce for a couple centuries and comes the closest to being comfortable in his own skin he’s ever been.

however,

after the Incident he slam-dunked himself back into the hypermasculinity juice bc it was a mindset “safe” from feeling pain, whether his or others’. n since the worlds the admins created dont have the same ideas of gender as the world they came from, once he’s been dethroned romeo has a particularly hard time adjusting wrt That on top of all the other 2750347502730 issues he has to face

anyway flash forward a couple months of being incredibly volatile bc he now has to confront all the terrible things he did and how Dare u make him do that and maybe if hes nasty enough he can provoke someone into killing him and saving him from having to unpack All Of That- (note from @simple-mooshroom-herder: Xara and Jesse at least grasp that Romeo will probably burn himself out on this bullshit eventually and the best thing to do is interact with him with a certain level of healthy detachment. Eventually he'll see that theres no "getting out of this" and he'll start to do the Work but until then its very frustrating to see that tactic take him nowhere.)

- one day petra notices how he’s constantly staring at all the ppl wearing cute dresses in beacontown and at first she thinks he's being creepy but then realizes that he's not being creepy and actually she knows exactly how he feels bc she also used to look at ppl wearing clothes super not suited for combat like that, like she wished she could wear them too, like if she just didnt have to keep up this image of the Warrior who is Not Soft Ever-

n ok. listen. these worlds have been specifically engineered to be better and kinder than the one the admins came from, and when people mess up- even REALLY mess up- people are generally not only willing to forgive you but support you as you try and get better. it’s instinctual for communities to respond to misdeeds with rehabilitation and reconciliation, rather than retaliation and renunciation (tho its not an overnight thing and it generally takes 1-3 people to spearhead the process, esp if the actions have affected a large group of people). like. ivor created something that almost destroyed the entire world, not just beacontown, yet by the end of season one he’s grown to be a part of the team- n its not just jesse & co being forgiving here, bc when ivor made his s1 build with 3 lava source blocks people objected to it, but by s2 he not only has lava in his build but a giant lake of it. (im assuming the fences around said lake are coming eventually, bc safety is still important, but the implications im choosing to take from this are a) despite almost ending the world people let him into their lives anyway and b) the community not only grew to accept but encourage his self-expression.)

BUT ANYWAY before i go off on that even more one day petra and romeo basically put on an impromptu fashion show in jesse’s house (bc their house is huge and, kind of perfect for a fashion show, and also right next to the order hall’s armory whence they stole a bunch of fancy swords to match the outfits) n theyre having a blast until the hero in residence , returns to their residence (and with COMPANY) n romeo is absolutely Mortified- caught red-handed showing feelings of an almost human nature, oh my god, this will NOT do- n this whole grand soliluquy of shame and excuses and apologies grabs the steering wheel of his tongue but he cant even spit a single syllable out bc jesse and lukas almost immediately dip leaving romeo panicking for a second before they come back with their inventories FULL of cute outfits, including a billion skirts and dresses, some of them are even enchanted so theyre like. super shiny or constantly flowing or things like that.

this actually ends up spiralling into a town-wide... not quite fashion show bc there's no runway or anything, everyone just shows up in their cutest/coolest outfits .. fashion convention?? Anyway several people come up to him and compliment him on his outfit casually before continuing along, not recognizing him not only bc of how hes done his hair and makeup n what hes wearing but he just seems... so happy (he might be wearing something on his head? like a headpiece or hat or something? but also maybe not hmm)- whoever this is, he's not hunched over like he's got several centuries' worth of sins crawling on his back he’s not trying to shrink and make small a human-shaped apology for the simple fact of his existence not dragging his feet like hes ready for, dreading, a hundred mile trek through the desert repenting hes just. hes literally just Vibing

anyway he's mostly been silent or just providing very quiet "thank you"s but when it turns out that some people showed up ready to play music and there's a song that he knows he literally cant help but start jamming out its the GOod Stim everyones a-dancing and a-jiving and some people start to sing and so of course he does too (the healing power of dancing and singing in cute outfits.... unfathomable) but. ppl recognize his voice

and after a few seconds he notices how quiet it's gotten all of a sudden n everyones looking at him like "oh shit thats the admin" and honestly his heart breaks. visibly

but

then someone starts singing, so quiet it takes a moment for him to hear over the sound of an encroaching panic attack (oh god he has airpods in), but when he looks over theyre smiling - theyre smiling at hiM???? AND IT DOESNT EVEN LOOK MEAN??- and doing this very simple step, that he catches onto just as easily as he matches their singing (its a fairly common little tune n dance)

theyre like standing like a good few meters away but as they take turns with lines in the song they slowly inch closer

and he thinks hes starting to recognize the dance that the steps theyre doing is from but at the part in the song thats coming up ur supposed to allemande left and even tho theyre like, less than a meter away now literally no one has really wanted to get close to him, let alone actually touch him, so hes totally expecting them to be like 'psych' and humiliate him in front of the entire crowd-

BUT THEN THEY ACTUALLY GO FOR IT???

he completes the step without even thinking about it n continues onto the next in this state of dull bewilderment where there is but one braincell active in his head and it is just going, in a very tiny voice, "danser?"

- when they linked arms the person briefly seemed surprised that he didn't like, chew their arm off or anything (he had. kind of snapped at people a few times during the past few weeks), but then their shock turned into a wide smile and they sort of- nodded? at someone over his shoulder like 'come and join us, it doesn't look like he's going to kill me after all you guys can put the eulogy writing on hold'

what rly makes his heart do the confused and hopeful conga is that this isnt even anyone romeo knows, its a total stranger. or- like- he saw them while he was pretending to be jesse he just didnt care to get to know them beyond ‘name and gimmick’- its not even someone who has any reason to think he'd be cool to befriend its literally jsut someone taking a chance on him (tkae a chance take a chance take a chance take a cha)

afterwards hes like "i should thank jesse for putting you up to that, it was fun" and theyre like "what? jesse didn't "put me up to" anything, dude, you just looked super choked. * something something surfer lingo who would i be if i just left someone to feel bad when they could be having fun dancing you know?*"

he H

#ng+#msg #i said this was super self-indulgent and i was not lying #i call ng+ my mcsm project and thats literal

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ewokthrowdown · 5 years

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Gah I’m back. It’s only been like a week since I’ve written anything but that’s like a really long time for me. Okay have a dumb coffee shop au.

The coffee shop was Yuuri’s absolute favourite. It was warm and cosy and cute. It did the most amazing mochas and even had a little stove fire, which was always lit in the cold New York autumn and winter. Phichit also had a couple of shifts there and liked to flick the mini marshmallows at Yuuri’s mouth from behind the counter. Their current record for Yuuri catching one was three tables and a stroller away. The baby in the stroller had seemed impressed even if his mother had been less so.

Yes, those were the reasons the cafe was Yuuri’s favourite. Definitely not because of the hot Russian man who also frequented it with his colleagues on their break. Definitely not.

Yuuri was currently bundled up in a good spot by the little stove, watching the flames lick up the logs inside as he sipped his usual mocha and thumbed the page of his book. He usually managed to nab this spot as Phichit would save it for him when he knew Yuuri was coming in. It also gave him a prime view of the beautiful silver haired Russian man as he chatted to his colleague, a pretty redhead woman.

Yuuri was actually taking a Russian course at college. It had been free, and he figured why not take advantage of a free language lesson when he’ll have to pay for them when he graduates? It could only increase his chances of getting hired.

His language skills were still not the best, but today the beautiful Russian man and his friend were actually sitting within earshot, so Yuuri tried to listen in to help him pick up a few phrases. But thanks to the noise of the other patrons and his own rusty skills he only got bits and pieces.

“...will be so angry with you, Victor… just don’t do anything stupid… last month’s… the Versace fiasco... next season’s line…”

It was the redhead who was talking, and from what Yuuri could pick up, Victor, as he now knew the beautiful man’s name to be, was at risk at being in trouble with someone. Also they seemed to work in fashion, which made complete sense. Victor and his friends were always dressed amazingly. Not that Yuuri knew much about clothes. He himself was just glad when he’d done enough laundry to avoid wearing one of the t-shirts Phichit bought him, which usually sported slogans like “Bubble Butt” and “Man Crushing Thighs”.

Victor and the redhead had moved on to talking about the coffee. Victor seemed to be complimenting it, only for the redhead to laugh for some reason.

“Oh please, I know that the only reason you come here is because of your cute coffee boy,” she was saying, and Yuuri’s first thought was that he was amazed and pleased he’d understood a full sentence. Then his heart plummeted.

Who was the cute coffee boy? Was it Phichit? It seemed likely. He was very pretty and Victor did always seem to be here during Phichit’s shifts.

“I’m also here for the coffee!” Victor protested.

And then, inexplicably, his eyes flicked over to Yuuri. Yuuri hurriedly looked back down at his book, his ears burning with the thought of being caught staring.

“...just so cute… with the reading though… wearing a sign saying ‘Don’t Talk To Me I’m Not Interested’... wouldn’t want to be that guy.”

Yuuri huffed. He wasn’t sure if he was pleased or annoyed that he couldn’t quite translate all of what Victor was saying. On the one hand, he didn’t think he wanted to know more about his Favourite Unfairly Beautiful Man’s crush on his best friend. But on the other, well… everything Victor said was a gift. All soft and rumbly with the accent, but bubbly in tone like… like the best champagne.

“...when it’s styled… but fluffy hair look? Adorable, ten out of ten, would pine for again.”

The redhead laughed and Yuuri fought the urge to take a peek at the pair.

“I think you should go for it,” she said, making Yuuri’s heart stutter. “What’s the worst that can happen? ...maybe a bit awkward if you run into each other, but there’s plenty of coffee shops around.”

Yuuri bit his lip, staring intently at the words on the page without taking any of them in. He could not watch Victor ask Phichit out. He could not.

Yes okay, he didn’t even know Victor, had never worked up the courage to so much as smile at him never mind talk to him, but it was his best friend and roommate. God what if Phichit said yes? No, no, he wouldn’t do that, Yuuri told himself desperately as he gave a panicked glance over to where Victor was pursing his lips as though considering the idea. Phichit knew Yuuri liked the hot Russian who frequented the cafe, he certainly teased Yuuri enough about it. But then as Yuuri had just thought, he had never even spoken to Victor. He had no claim on him. Phichit, lovely, popular, beautiful Phichit, would be completely within his rights to date Victor.

What if they started hanging out at the apartment? Being all attractive and coupley while Yuuri ate American microwave ramen that was an insult to his ancestors?

No, the thought was too awful. Yuuri sprang to his feet at the same time as Victor stood up.

Shit, shitting hell. Dang and nammit. He needed to leave.

Yuuri fumbled for his things, suddenly cursing himself at being so terrible with the cold weather that he had so many layers. Why did he have two books? He hadn’t finished the first one, there was absolutely no need to be carrying the second just in case he finished the first.

Yuuri had managed to get his arm through his hoodie, was clutching his coat in one hand, had dropped both books and could taste what felt like his diaphragm in his mouth, when a pair of feet stopped in front of him. Yuuri looked up.

And knocked the remainder of his mocha over.

“Whoopsie!” said Victor, diving forward to catch the mug at the same time as Yuuri.

This of course meant they smacked heads and Yuuri let out a whimper that was a combination of pain and complete, utter, send me to hell mortification.

“Blyad,” Victor said, making Yuuri wince as Victor rubbed at his forehead.

Somewhere behind him Yuuri thought he heard Phichit make a noise that sounded alarming like the coffee machine frother. Though perhaps that was actually the coffee machine, Yuuri didn’t know Victor was smiling at him oh god.

“Well that is not how I wanted to introduce myself, but there we go,” Victor said, dropping his hand as he continued to smile at Yuuri for some unknown reason.

“Err…” was Yuuri’s eloquent and witty response.

Victor however seemed unphased, flipping his fringe out of his eyes and fixing Yuuri with a smirk that made him want to climb up the chimney above the stove to escape the feeling it gave him.

“I’m Victor. I’ve seen you in here a couple of times.”

“Err… yes?”

One of Yuuri’s most intelligent rejoiners, surely. He coughed and mentally kicked himself.

“Yes, um, I’ve seen you… too.”

So much better.

Despite Yuuri’s complete and utter humiliation, Victor grinned at the response, apparently delighted.

“So we’ve both been seeing each other,” he said with a wink, which oh god the smirk was bad enough. “Perhaps we could see each other somewhere else too?”

What.

“Maybe dinner? Or another cafe? I’m not fussy.”

What the absolute shitting hell.

“Sorry, I’m going about this all wrong,” Victor said, showing the first sign of embarrassment as Yuuri continued to gape at him like a mute fish. Not that fish spoke. Fish were always mute. For the love of god why was he thinking about fish when Victor was clearly the spiciest salmon roll in the ocean?

Yuuri was going to lobotomise himself.

“Perhaps I can get your name first?”

Yuuri’s disbelief and shock had apparently reached some kind of internal limit and defused into a sort of emotionless plateau.

“It’s Yuuri,” he said, slightly croaky, a little flat, but an actually acceptable response.

“Yuuri,” Victor purred, and if Yuuri hadn’t been so overwhelmed he may have trembled apart at the way Victor said his name. He still might. “Well, Yuuri, maybe I can get your number so we can talk more about that date?”

Yuuri’s emotions slammed back into him at Victor’s last word, bringing with them the sort of heat to his cheeks that he’d only previously felt from the New York sidewalk in the middle of July.

Despite this rather alarming state of being, Yuuri was able to accept the phone Victor was pushing at him after creating a new contact for him. He stared for a moment at the little hearts tagged onto the end of his name in the contact, and promptly felt all the blood leave his face again. If he kept going like this he was going to end up in the emergency room.

Yuuri typed his number out numbly and handed the phone back to Victor, his fingers all tingly.

“Wow, thank you so much,” Victor said, with such genuinity Yuuri could only stare at him. “I’ll text you later so you’ve got mine. I’m not going to do it front of you to make sure you gave me the right one, that’d be weird, and, shit, totally within your rights to, um…”

Yuuri watched with a kind of disjointed fascination at the way Victor cut himself off, a blush to rival Yuuri’s blooming over his cheeks as he fumbled the phone back into his pocket.

“Sure,” Yuuri said, managing to find his voice in the face of Victor’s apparent embarrassment. “I look forward to it.”

“Great,” Victor let out on a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair and looking slightly more centred.

Then he glanced over his shoulder at his friend, who was getting to her feet with an amused expression that she couldn’t completely hide as she drained the last of her coffee.

“Ah, well, it looks like I better be going,” Victor said, turning back to Yuuri with a sheepish smile.

“Well I’ll… look forward to your text.”

Shit, he’d already said that. Moron.

“Great,” Victor said on a breathless sigh, smile widening into a more genuine grin. God, that was cute. “Well… see you.”

Then Victor was turning away and Yuuri was watching him go as though from behind a pane of glass. As Victor pushed the door open and threw one last smile over his shoulder at Yuuri before exiting, what had just happened fully hit Yuuri. He sank back into his armchair with a noise not unlike a balloon deflating.

Through the fingers he had pressed over his eyes, Yuuri saw Phichit hurrying over to watch Victor go through the window.

“He just did the nerdiest little celebration dance,” Phichit called over the heads of all the other patrons, who could you know, hear him. “By my jelly sandals, you two are perfect for each other.”

Yuuri summoned enough energy to fling his empty muffin wrapper at Phichit. Then had to apologise when it hit one of the stroller patroller mothers.

Feel free to send me prompts! Apparently I need them atm. Find me on Ao3 :)

#victuuri #yuri on ice #yoi #viktuuri #my fic #my writing #mine #i have no idea if language classes are free at american uni #they are here #gah #victuuri fanfic

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inexchangeforyoursoul · 5 years

Text

FINALLY birthed this thing. I’m officially a disaster with writing anything that involves conflict. Just like irl. :”) Anyway, yeah, there were 3 reasons why I did not finish this immediately about a month ago.

Első: See above.

Második: I had no idea what I wanted the last drop for Hawks to be before writing the rest in advance anyway, whoopsie~

Harmadik: I was.... reeeeeally not sure whether I want to publish this during pride month, seeing as I’m cis, and what kind of shit I put in this. (..... ok I’ve been thinking about this, and somebody just tell me if I’m plain projecting shit here. I might as well. Like, I always am, but it has usually got to do with characters being heavily #relatable in some way in strictly canon, which goes for everyone I write scenarios for. But now I’m thinking about whether there is something more to this, bc me headcanoning Shiggy as genderfluid and starting that shitty LawxOC body swap fic came around the same time two years ago, and now here’s Hawks, too. I’m onto you, me. I’m so onto me...)

Anyway... if you want the usual fluff, you might wanna sit this one out. (There’s some of it, but beware of everything else... it got p long (~6.5k), too, so you might wanna read it on a proper platform for txt: AO3 )

Big, BIG thanks @cutiesableye @acidmatze @waxwingedhawks and @mistystarshine for basically proofreading it and slapping a big green GO into my nervous face. Or being at it rn; regardless, I am thankful. Sssh, only dreams now.

I hope y’all be as uncomfortable reading the meat of this as I was writing it, whoops.

For how much he's surrounded by people normally -which he enjoys most of the time, really- Hawks prefers the silent rooftop right now. It shouldn't be anything out of the ordinary, he'd need a lot more alone time in the first place… but he's supposed to be working right now. Be in the thick of this spying shit, collecting intel from social and environmental clues like nobody's business.

Returning to the room is not something he wants right now, though. The topic and the awkward atmosphere it brought are weighing on him, and he'd rather get over this before moving on with the sleuthing business. He's been perching over the weed-ridden parking lot for like half an hour already, though. Judging by what he can pick up, the League is back to their time killing activities, and not very concerned about his absence. He noticed Spinner checking on him some time back from the doorway, and that's what it was. He's low-key grateful that they would let him breathe instead of poking around some more, or tailing him. If it's something he's allowed to do all the time, it'll be a luxury he's plain going to cherish for as long as it lasts.

Another plus is… that his reasons to join have become more than just believable. Even if this bit of information was not something he wanted to share. Like, at all. Ever. It was perhaps naive to think nobody will ever find out in the first place, that it would stay a secret of the select few who trained and took care of him. But the ones aware of it now being the members of Japan's most infamous terrorist organization… is not reassuring.

Still… they are letting him be alone. It's… nice. Being seen as a person. It also hurts, though.

His feathers catch onto the vibrations of someone coming up the staircase again. The echoes tell of familiar size, weight and shapes… he knows who it will be. Being a wild card, he's probably coming on his own volition. The plastic smile is already in place, even though it has never worked on the guy- this was nice while it lasted.

The metal door opens with a lazy creak, then there's a soft thud, followed by slacking steps that stop right behind him. Dabi takes a swig from the beer can in his hand before speaking. "So… Peacock and Starling, huh."

"What about them, bacon face?" It's a funny feeling to hear someone say those… names, technically. It's equally funny to think that one of those is what he'd be known as if things go a little more his way. Even considered the title Phoenix for a moment, but that was too pretentious even for him, not to mention ill-fitting past being made of reds and yellows. As for the flashy Peacock… it's easy to see why the blatant joke got rejected off the bat. He'd look sick in iridescent blues and greens for sure, but that's all the reason he ever had to consider it. Those colors didn’t fit his basically pre-established brand… and nowadays he'd rather be invisible than catch even more eyes, anyway. And there's the almost, almost final Red Starling, which had the prototype of his current hero costume and everything…

He wanted to avoid predatory birds when given the task to choose a hero name, blatant secondary traits notwithstanding. They were beautiful creatures, yes… but hardly something reassuring and safe, killing for a living, full of pointy bits. Someone else probably wouldn't have batted an eye and had gone for the intimidation factor, but it was simply not what he had in mind.

A hawk… is a borderline case. It's among the smaller species and underwent some form of domestication, after all. They are not ideal for being kept as mere pets, though; they serve a purpose, instead.

They are used.

Used to hunt for sport or pest control, as he usually does. As he's supposed to right now.

So 'Hawks' was an afterthought, invoking the image of speed and danger. Which they insisted on, especially after… that. Smuggling the S at the end on the form was a last passive-aggressive jab after getting the okay, before letting go of who he used to, or wanted to be. It was fascinating to see the big shots make peace with it almost immediately, and regarding it as an improvement, even; 'makes it easier to associate with a swarm of feathers,' and 'more unique and identifiable,' they said. As if the original idea didn't accomplish both. It really was just… fascinating. The rest of these names, he banished to the stuffiest, darkest corners of his mind, as there were few good things, and even less pleasant memories attached to them. Until… today.

What has happened was simple and logical- the idea whether he'd choose another alias for underground activities came up. Mentioning them in the first place was an enormous mistake… and entertaining either as a viable option was even more so. Disturbing those relics reminded him of those buried memories and feelings, and all he can think of right now is the way Himiko's words rang in his ears barely half an hour ago.

Today, your smell reminds me of Big Sister.

Dabi lets out a sigh before getting to the meat of it. He spent the time Hawks had been gone on thinking himself, and there's a lot to unpack here. So he ought to take it step by step, lest he gets lost in the details. “Let me… get this story of yours straight."

… Great. This is exactly what he needs.

"It starts with… dirty, piss-poor little you getting caught up in a car accident and single handedly resolving it, right? Then, for doing something nice and selfless like that… you got sold off like a slab of fucking meat to the government.”

He blinks. "Hmm… not the most revolutionary take on it. I know you can do better." Claiming that the thought has never crossed his mind would be a lie. He just never let himself dwell on it. But now, this idiot is making him do exactly that. Or is trying to, at the very least. It certainly seems to be one of those convos. This… is turning out to be a major pain in the ass right away. Maybe he should reconsider provoking him this time around, it could backfire big time in the current mood of his.

“It is what happened, though, wasn’t it?” Dabi continues, slipping down to sit next to him, one leg dangling over the edge. “And once your apparently sub-par parents raked in the easy money, and washed their hands of you… you got stripped of everything.”

"Bold of you to assume that I had much to lose, bro. If you know about the accident, you also know where they picked me up from." Putting up a front aside, there was a rough edge to that 'everything' that makes Hawks want to run for the hills immediately. Nope, he is positively not in the mood for antagonistic banter at the moment. He wasn't really able to hide his upset and embarrassment over the situation, so Dabi must have found some twisted sense of enjoyment in pestering him about this specifically. Why can't this asshole just… shut up for once. He thought the villain incapable of it, but he does it so damn well with others around. Sticking with the lot might be a good idea, because solo Dabi is worse. He… he better filter out all the babbling before he starts thinking about bad shit or worse. It’s been a while since he had to take such measures, but he'll have to lull himself into a coma, and just… shut up. Inside out. And hope that Dabi gets bored of him.

“Doesn't change the point, does it, now. They started with any meaningful human contact you may have had… until they erased every last ounce of self," Comes the continuation while Hawks tries to block it out; "They denied you time, likes, attention, possibly even your basic fucking needs while moulding you into a perfect little cleanup machine that fears no death. Then tossed your dried-up skeleton into a roomy cage, filled with expensive junk to fill the void, as a semblance of compensation. Well thanks for fucking nothing, you sick fucks."

Hawks' eyes have locked onto a sunbathing lizard in the distance, but the idle animal is not quite enough of a distraction and his fingers twitch with the tightening grip over the wall's edge. Why does it sound as if Dabi was taking his side?

Shut up… don't pay attention.

He winces when Dabi pulls on the collar of his tracksuit to take a disgusted look at the label. "All the shit you wear was gifted from companies you played dress-up doll for, wasn't it… one fantastic billboard, you are. You own literally nothing else, do you? I'm sure that's the case, because, funny story… a newbie classmate of mine, some dump kid whose parents became new money, had always obscene amounts of cash on him… but after an initial shopping spree, he never could bring himself to buy a fucking thing. So we asked him about it. Turns out he simply felt like utter shit for spending any of it unless he had a good reason. I laughed then, but apparently, getting a bag of chips is a gargantuan issue for most people who grew up in poverty."

He leans closer, low words dripping like liquid venom in Hawks' ear. "You, too, feel like garbage every time you spend an ounce of money on something you can do without, don't you? Reminding yourself that there are dozens of that thing at home, lying untouched in your wardrobe that's the size of some families' entire house. Pray-tell Hawks, how many times did you sit over a full basket of online goods… the stuff of your dreams, probably some basic ass shit... only to back out at the last second, hmm?"

Shut up.

Dabi's eyes slide to the tense hands possibly attempting to tear the crumbling edge off the worn wall. A second later, he distances himself again, stirring the can with lazy, circular motions. "I don't even want to imagine what it feels like. Never spent a fucking dime on anything but charities, I fancy. And the odd bottle of booze, fuck or junk food… Are those chicken bits the only thing you're allowed to get? Tch.”

“What a fucking luxury, being allowed to treat yourself to a bucket every other week, when your disgusting training diet has been set in stone three months in advance." It sounds like a personal addendum, but not a single word in that sentence escapes the overbearing sarcasm and condescension.

A still ticking cogwheel in the hero's head wonders why Dabi knows of the standard diet thing he has to undergo at least twice a year being three months long, and how he could possibly know that he's come to hate half of the dishes over the years. The overwhelming majority of said cogs have long come to a halt, however, screeching SHUT UP. He's not sure who or what that message is directed to anymore. Probably both of them.

Dabi’s waltzing wrist comes to a halt, soon followed by the whirling liquid in the can; it's a minute break, the kind that's just enough to make conversations awkward. In fact, the silence is too big for Hawks to handle- there’s no white noise to drown out and it makes not thinking, not paying attention unbearably hard. The lizard disappears under the cracked asphalt, leaving him with nothing.

“With how long it took you to respond to Shigaraki, they also stripped you of your name. And what I got from the exchange with Toga… is that the same goes for your body, too.”

A shiver runs down Hawks’ back and wings over the addition, kicking the machine brain back in full order despite his best efforts. Dabi takes a big swig of beer and lets out a sigh, resulting in another ill-placed pause. It gives Hawks time to think, goddammit, and he thinks too fast, too hard, about everything.

“While you were moping up here, I've come to realize why you always seem to be so hilariously desperate to one-up me in any given way… it’s because you actually are grasping for straws. You have no control whatsoever, over anything. None." There’s a somber undertone to his voice. The can, along with the remaining sloshes of beer, are flung down to the concrete wasteland and land with a sad, high pitched clank. "My sister used to be like this… people like you don’t dare to ask why things happen. You will believe you’d done something wrong to deserve it all… maybe see yourselves as a necessary sacrifice. Did they ask you to be a martyr, or did you decide so yourself, bird brain? Not that it matters… because that’s exactly what your bosses want and they'd keep on twisting your arms until they get there… but I bet they did. They didn't ask whether you actually wanted it, though… or ask anyone else, about anything, for that matter."

He reaches over Hawks' vaguely trembling shoulders for the jaw, forcing his face out of hiding. The grip turns gentler as the man's head turns in his general direction, though he's refusing to make eye contact. Dabi keeps him there like that for a while, dissecting him with icy, blue scalpels.

"Gentle like a dove… you'd have flipped the fuck out and been talking shit ever since I opened my mouth any other day. Is this the defense mechanism you developed for these situations?" There's some twitches to the corner of the mouth, but the other remains unresponsive. Heaving another, mildly annoyed sigh, he pries the hero off the crumbling wall with a disgruntled huff and turns to face him. Once there’s some space to work with, he tilts the head in his grasp to the left, to the right… no resistance. "To see you like this is creepy as all hell, birdie… do you even register what I'm saying anymore? Or is ignoring me the goal? Hmm?"

He scoffs at the glazed eyes, then shakes his head. "I'd imagine you met some pigs high up on the food chain soon after the stunt… those monsters can do anything they want. Then buy silence from pocket change." He starts caressing the other's face as the trembling turns more and more into shaking. "Isolated, innocent eye candy kid at their mercy…… I can only imagine what they’d do to a sweet little plaything like you."

A visceral reaction makes Hawks' stomach convulse, threatening to empty itself, and the muscles in the rest of his body follow suit. Unwanted scraps of memories, all the blurred scenes, images and feelings he didn't quite manage to erase flare up in his mind. And even though his entire being is revolting against being reminded of hugs that felt off by a mere margin, of touches that were always, always distinctively soft and slimy, and things sometimes even worse, and much worse… the sole thing that betrays his near perfect neutral expression is a pair of clenched jaws. What concerns him even more than any of this, however, is the fact that his tear ducts have been burning up for some unknown time, and...

… too late. There’s already a droplet of water sitting on the thumb Dabi lifted up a second ago.

The tear gets reduced to nothing between the pensive swipe of two fingers as he lets go of him. “Thought so…”

A sliver… a handful of cells, some unidentifiable part of Hawks is thankful that Dabi doesn’t elaborate on what he’s thinking right now, glaring somewhere distant both past the hero and his own damp hand.

The villain's eyes come back into focus soon enough. There's still… one more thing. "Then you started to grow… and they decided to focus on function over form, since your baby face would be just as marketable with a scruff. Becoming popular and following a strict schedule makes it near impossible for creeps to do as they please, with all the watchful eyes dissecting your every move… so you live on a leash instead. An accessory to show off to guests… and still shiny, new weapon to flashily beat up people with." He cocks his head. "And you loathe mindless violence."

On one hand comes the relief that the previous topic has been dropped as unceremoniously as possible, and he gets a moment to breathe and stop shaking like a leaf. On the other…

They are used. Used to hunt pests…

Having less than no time for himself, the daily drill of regular heroing and the overwhelming amount of paperwork the job comes with are things he can deal or cope with… It’s fighting, hurting and confronting other people he loathes the most, even if he'll ram heads with the bigger fish to ensure a more stable framework for everyone to live in. For… others to live in.

Forcing himself into a group of known murderers and the deception this comes with is just the icing on the rotten cake. God, all these fucking lies, he cannot look into the mirror anymore for being overcome with sheer disgust. And now he's stuck with it until the source of all Noumu can be located, too. Why can’t things be like a shitty cops and robbers chase and, just… easy? Simple? Is it really that much to ask for?

But what makes it unnerving is to know that Dabi’s right, always fucking right. About people, what a living nightmare being a hero is once one looks past the glitter covers, and pretty much everything else. But most importantly, he's right about him. He hates being predictable at all, not to mention being read with confidence, and right now he feels as naked as an open book with covers ripped clean off.

He can feel more tears break free, and his fingers scrape over the rough concrete, letting the bumps and glass shards cut a fingertip or two open. It's frustrating. Every single time they happen to make contact… Dabi either makes a good point or manages to get the upper hand in the most inane, little ways, and it’s so… frustrating.

He can’t keep bottling it all up forever, but what is he supposed to do about these feelings?

“What I'm not sure about… is what exactly they are thinking this time.” There’s a thoughtful pause before the continuation; every last tendon in the blonde’s body tenses up. “Are they actually this desperate to get us for good… or is it you they want to get rid of that bad?”

For a moment that seems like an eternity, Hawks feels… absolutely nothing. Nothing but the piercing glare of the very sky above them, staring straight through the villain's eyes. “Psycho girl is right… you really have no idea how to say no.”

Why now… Hawks can't tell. But hearing the same shit he's thinking about for the millionth time makes something crack. Click. Snap. And next thing he knows, he’s already tackled Dabi to the ground and is clenching his fists into his coat; the man himself doesn’t look too surprised over the turn of events, which drives him even madder.

“Every,” his voice shakes with bubbling anger and is lower and gravelier than his normal, but it will do. Hawks pulls on the leather hard enough to lift the other before slamming him back onto the grey concrete--- “Every” --- over--- “single” --- and over--- “aspect” --- and over, “of you,” and over, “drives me up… the fucking wall,” and over… “any time you open your godforsaken MOUTH,” this time, he goes a little over the top, as the big yank is followed by a pointed knock upon Dabi’s head meeting the ground and his lungs flatten under the pressure of fists, but Hawks is not in the mindset to give a flying fuck about the minor inconveniences of the villain at the moment. Fucker has dug this grave himself, so he better lie in it. "how the everloving fuck... How…! How can you possibly know me more than I do?! TELL ME!!” He asks with an ever growing voice that borders screaming by now, all while shaking the man relentlessly.

He's about to pull and slam him down again when Dabi's hands grab onto his arms just below the wrist. Maybe it's that he did not expect it, but the grip definitely stings a little. As fragile as Dabi is, he thought those scrawny arms less powerful, but apparently what does he know? Still angry, he tears one hand free while shooting a glare at the villain.

There's a trail of blood flowing down his cheek around where Hawks' fist rubbed against at the time of the yank. Dabi blinks once, leaving his left eye with an odd pink texture as his lid smears the leaking red fluid all over it. Not too surprisingly, his face remains as unreadable as a mannequin's, and eyes as cold as that of a taxidermy specimen. Hawks hates looking at him when they are like this, which is most of the time. "Careful, little bird… you're tearing at the seams. Don't want to end up like this, do you?”

That calm voice works like just another taunt, making the hero want to beat him to a pulp, or at the very least, continue where he's just left off with flattening him into the concrete. At the same time… hesitation wedges his joints to a halt. No… No, he doesn’t want to end up ‘like this,’ whatever it may have been to drive Dabi into burning himself alive on a daily basis.

And he notices. Of course he does. Hawks could swear to see his lips curve, but it may just be the angle.

“Fucked-up kids know how to read others pretty well, don’t you think?”

Hawks’ still short breath hitches and he freezes upon feeling a hand, the very same he just shook off, slide over his hips, ice cold on his heated skin even through the fabric of a t-shirt. There's no real intent behind it; in fact, it feels like a doctor's indifferent, calculated touch. Somehow, that makes it even worse. "… didn't even have the decency to start stuffing you with testosterone from the get-go, huh?"

Another statement that sounds more like a personal note than anything else, and it makes Hawks’ skin crawl.

“Well I can’t read you for shit! Congratulations!!!” He barks, slapping the intrusive limb away. “For starters, what was this supposed to be about, hell, why the fuck did you even come up here?! Just to gloat about it into my face? Or do you want to make fun of me for not being able to decide whether I’d rather be a cheeky bitch or the insufferable prick I am today?!”

There’s tears streaming down his face again, but he couldn’t care less. It hurts like all hell… especially remembering full well how fucking much waking up from what was supposed to be nothing more than an open break surgery hurt- there was near nothing to remove, for fuck's sake. But claiming not to enjoy at least some aspects of what being a man brought would be just more lies on the throne built on them.

Mentioning his interest in IT and mechanics to strangers is not criticised or made fun of, not anymore. Neither is his tendency to run ahead of others in pretty much every situation. Instead of second guessing, people default to respecting and listening to what he says on any given topic in general, and he stopped doubting himself, too. The circumstances were a special kind of fucked-up for sure… but he also ended up having fewer weak spots than almost everyone else, which did come handy a couple of times. The hormones he received made him taller than he ever could have grown realistically, too. And rejecting fans is easier as most women- and most of them are women,- know basic fucking etiquette.

But he also wants cheesy tees with cats and birds and flowers that he never gets to sponsor. Cuter shoes that are still comfy. Some eyeshadow every now and then. Wear the prettiest blues and greens, and maybe… maybe a nice dress.

"… You are pissed for the same reason I am.”

By the time Hawks has processed the sentence, he is the one being pressed into the roof, with one wing stuck awkwardly underneath him. For a dreadful moment he breaks into cold sweat, because this also means that Dabi is between his legs, and--- fuck, this is the last fucking position he wants to find himself in, especially right fucking now. He doesn’t get to break out in panic, however, because the villain is busy strangling him against the lukewarm ground. It’s his turn to grab onto the other’s arms as he wheezes for some air. He needs to calm the fuck down somehow, otherwise he won’t be able to use his feathers---

“Looking at you… is like staring at a distorted mirror image at fucking funland.” Hawks cracks his eyes open, seeing Dabi stare right back at him. It's as if someone put goddamn transparency over the villain to make the blinding blue behind him visible. He’d blame cold eyes in general, but he doesn’t find Twice’s even lighter ones nearly this creepy when Dabi’s like this. His burn with intensity rivaling All Might and Endeavor, which have always made him uneasy.

“What a nice pair of custom-made patchwork monstrosities we are…” His voice delves into a hiss as the grip tightens over the hero’s neck. “… makes me sick to my stomach."

Hawks coughs under the weight on his throat. He manages to get some air in and think clearly enough to turn back to logical thinking; if Dabi wanted to go for the kill, he’d be toast by now. Motherfucker is just toying with him for the hell of it, isn’t he? He flexes his wings against the rough concrete and flips the two of them back over to where they started.

“Would you stop playing games, you *cough* sick fuck?!” he wheezes, all out of breath.

"Maybe you’re the one who should stop dicking around, bird brain!"

His next protest gets cut short when Dabi headbutts him in the temples. It feels half-hearted, but gets him to shut up for a moment nonetheless, which is all that the other needs.

"The fuck did you scrape us up from the floor for, HUH?! You had ONE JOB, and you could have been done with it just like that… but instead...!! INSTEAD you played nurse and started to GET ALL COMFORTABLE AND SHIT!” The villain’s voice is basically rolling like thunder over the forsaken plot.

Hawks’ angry and pained grimace twitches under his hand- he’s seen Dabi smug, and aloof, and crazed, but not… angry. Not to mention angry with him, specifically. And, once again, it’s one of those little, irritating, miniscule things that are… true. He didn’t get an order to stick around and follow the lead to the Noumu until like a week later, so it was all unnecessary and ended up being even more work and trouble than it was worth.

He didn’t have to help when he found all of them dying, bleeding and broken.

He also didn’t have to start talking to Compress and Twice and Giran, then all the rest as they warmed up to him and came to.

He wasn’t supposed to lie about their initial status, he didn’t have to keep covering for them after they were all walking and doing all right, after the decent person in him had already been satisfied.

And he definitely never meant to get… attached.

A pull on his tracksuit wakes him from the shock, just as Dabi continues screaming at him head-on. “And YET, there still isn't anything YOU want from us?! REALLY?!! Do you want to be a puppet for the rest of your life, idiot?!"

Well… Hawks had been called names before. He never thought that being called a ‘puppet’ would offend him this much, but that... that certainly just did it.

“NO, I DON’T!” He screams back at him, voice swaying all over the place.

"CAN'T HEAR YOU, BITCH!!"

"I SAID I DON'T WANT 'o!!” Whatever air's still in Hawks' lungs gets stuck inside as a wave of what’s probably fear washes over him upon hearing his own, distorted voice crack and echo in the empty parking lot. Realizing just how much he's straining his voice, a sudden knot manifests in his stomach that folds his rage into a small, jittery, awkward package.

“Ah… I,” It takes so much effort to squeeze out a single thing, what--- why is he embarrassed? “I don’t---”

The next word gets stuck somewhere between his thoughts and throat when the same cold hand from before leaves a little pat on his head.

"See? Wasn't that fucking hard, was it now." It combs Hawks' hair back, staples getting stuck here and there on the fragile strands. There’s nothing methodical about it this time; the entire gesture is just… gentle. "Good job, chicken."

Just like that… all that rage, despair and helplessness, along with the last confusing bundle of emotions, evaporates out of the blue, leaving Hawks empty and tired, somewhat nervous, and maybe a little… relieved. It takes him a bit to be able to think of anything at all, god knows how much time passes while he blinks blankly in front of him. It takes a rugged sigh from Dabi underneath him to phase back into reality; the scarred hand has long disappeared, and is tucked behind the villain’s head along with the other as he’s gazing at the passing clouds. The first coherent thought that crosses Hawks’ head is a fully formed fact- what kind, and with what purpose, he doesn't know or begin to understand… but this was… a test, or rather, a lecture.

A very… very crudely executed lecture.

Hawks sniffs with a stuffy nose. Fucking… fucking fucker. “… you are an asshole through and though, aren’t you?” And now he’s hoarse, too. Wonderful.

There’s a shrug… well, as much of a shrug it can be from someone in Dabi’s position. “I don’t believe it’s ever been up for debate.”

He sounds so smug, it's just so… ugh. The hero squishes his face with a palm in frustration before crawling off him at last. The annoyed grunt in response is all he needs right now. "Are you done being a nuisance, or do you wanna egg me on some more?"

There's a rare chuckle. "Already making bird puns…? Nah, little bird. Getting hell-and-back pissed is exhausting as fuck. You won't be any more fun today."

With that, Dabi scrambles onto his elbows, then sits back up. He gives a quick massage to his previously flattened nose before rubbing the back of his head; there’s a number of fully formed lumps already. Feathers isn’t very gentle when riled up… at least the spot’s not bleeding. He'll need to put some painkillers to work, though. "Still… the manic look suits you well. I'm getting giddy just thinking about your bosses' reactions upon seeing you like that." In a move that is more or less successful, he licks a finger to rub the trail of rust off his cheek.

Hawks wrinkles his nose upon seeing a rather genuine looking smile on the other’s face. “Please. Noone in their right mind is in my face like you are all the damn time… at least not with the intent of driving me batshit only to make me murder them. You’re a freak case and should not be accounted for.” He sighs, resting his head on an arm- there really is no willpower left in him to do anything for the rest of the day. There better be no trouble on his late evening patrol, or so help him. Or help it, because there's no guarantee he won't snap back to this awkward beat-to-a-pulp mode if confronted with a no-name villain.

After some fidgeting, Dabi produces something from a pocket… something that looks very suspiciously like a worn blunt. “It’s because they don’t have to, dumbass… you are edging towards a nervous breakdown at any given time. Anyway, look… you are no doubt seen as an invaluable asset… but are worth so much more still. Give yourself some credit." Hawks peers back at him just as the conspicuous thing is lit over a wrist which gets shaken after, much like one would put out a match. There’s a tentative draw, followed by another.

“What I want to say is… they are terrified of you, birdie. If not for the danger of exposing their disgusting practices, it's because they fear that their blue ribbon pet won't return from a hunt… for one reason or another. And, just for the record,” He breathes, offering the roll to him; “I'll gladly hold you back for a good scare."

Following a vacant stare and a blink, he takes it. It’s not as if this quite tolerable, for-the-hell-of-it mood of Dabi’s was new, but… he was seriously considering to strangle the guy a minute ago. When exactly did they return to casual banter? Hell if he remembers, or has noticed at all. God… this whole thing has him rattled real good. Hopefully a nap will get him back into the usual pace of things.

“I sure hope not everyone blows their sugarbird pocket money on beer and weed like you do,” The blonde muses once he can feel a different kind of fatigue set in, reaching the blunt back to Dabi. Hypocritical? Maybe. Won't stop him from nagging others for the same shit, though. Comes with the job.

“Well, Compress replaced the crumpled hat… and Tomura decided to save up for a new handheld,” Dabi muses, placing the smoke into the corner of his mouth. "It'll go via Giran, of course. After seeing the taxes on that shit, I can't even blame him."

Can’t help but smile at that. “You are all fucking hopeless.”

A hum is all he gets as a reply.

After a while of comfortable silence, the remains of the roll get snuffed out on the ground. Blinking past Dabi, Hawks can see the sun is soon to set. Fucked like two hours just sitting out here, didn’t he. The Commission better not expect much from today’s endeavor… cannot exactly tell them that he was getting high on the rooftop with the flame villain for a good portion of it, the only villainous topic being creepy fat cats and their own shortcomings. Or that his possibly biggest secret slipped, although they wouldn't give a rat's ass about that. Yyyeah… it’s best to bullshit it.

“Humor me for another minute of real talk, will you, chicken?”

Dabi’s voice drags him back to reality again, only to realize that the light has already turned into a warm yellow. If his bones… or rather joins popped now, he’d feel like the embodiment of a nice little bonfire under the sun. Huh. Guess the stuff was of the better quality to make him think of weird similes and turn his sense of time whack. What was he--- oh, right. He should answer.

“… cannot promise I'll be able to pay attention or remember any of it, but do your best, crouton.” There’s a mild prickly sensation in his wings and his brain feels like marshmallows. If only he could always be so calm.

“Don’t bullshit me, you barely had a whiff." The dirty remains of weed are flung over the roof in annoyance.

He can feel a goofy smile creep onto his face- it's nice to be the source of frustration for once. Maybe all he needs to do is be honest more often. "Second hand smoking goes a long way, bruh."

The initial answer is an exasperated sigh. "Shut it… Anyway, you should cut the sweet chirping and tweeting, birdie. No matter what you do, people take advantage of your position. You know this better than anyone else. So squawk and screech to your heart's content, if that's what you need… and if barking won’t help, get down to biting.” Having said that, he stops surveying the cracked parking lot under the golden sky, and turns back to Hawks.

He forgets to breathe for a second. Good lord… those eyes glow as if they were illuminated by blue fire from inside, and the contrast with the sunset is just… well, literally breathtaking, he supposes. This is among the few times when they don’t creep him out- quite the contrary, in fact. They still feel like X-rays, though. “I guess it really doesn’t matter… by the way, real talk question: can you fucking read minds?”

Not that he expected anything else, but a smug grin appears on the villain’s face. “Maybe~”

“Careful, man. Your pants are sizzling.”

Lo and behold, another rare chuckle. Despite being under the influence of drugs, (or maybe because of that?) Hawks is on a fucking roll.

He can't keep his eyes off those blue ones even once Dabi decides to stare back at him. “Jokes aside… suppose there really is an idiot like me out there, and they get up close and personal… put those clipped talons to work and gouge their fucking eyes out. You have all the means to tear them limb from limb… go all out, who gives a fuck. These are the same kind of people who shit on wild animals from beyond a cage, but watch them run with tail between legs upon realizing that the gates are wide open. And even if you weren't ready to dirty your hands or feathers like that…"

He lifts a pointing finger and rests the tip on the hero’s nose. "One word of yours… and we'll make sure it's the last day they touched anyone. Understand?"

Really, all he can manage to that is a weak, sheepish smile. “… thanks,” he breathes, not knowing what else to say. He should be a thousand times more alarmed over basically being told that someone's ready to kill for him, and not… well, flattered? Touched? Especially since he knows Dabi means it, and so would the rest of them.

“Great,” the other grunts while getting on his feet, and leaning just a little bit on Hawks’ head while doing so. What a turd. Latter’s about to get his stiff legs working as well, but once the vague aching starts subduing, he can see Dabi stop in the doorway and put a hand on his hip. “… those filthy gremlins have been spying on us.”

Indeed… someone brought the hero’s scantily loaded bag to the top of the staircase and left it there.

“In that case,” turns Dabi around, flinging said bag over to Hawks in the same breath, “go straight the fuck home and get yourself presentable, you overgrown turkey. Might wanna decide on the new alias by the next time I call, too. You already know the rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, dragging the strap over his head.

Between the echo of boots, there’s a distorted farewell: “See ya, little star.”

Hawks stops in his tracks. He looks over to the empty entrance, and the metal door wide open. The sound of footsteps has faded into barely more than creepy sounds in an abandoned building- if not for his feathers, he wouldn’t even know that six other people are under the roof he’s standing on. Spirits and shadows haunting an old convenience store like many others.

He's nothing more than another ghost out here, and yet… he's never felt so real.

---

No matter what he chooses, Dabi will just stick to 'fancy chicken.' Also, I’m so fucking proud of that Red Starling. Not only is it obscure astronomy bullshit (much like the title of this thing), but it would be a nifty alternative to Hawks; just hit up a video on a flock (or, as I just learned, murmuration) of starlings. Shit’s cray.

#dabi #hawks #bnha #boku no hero academia #DabiHawks #not necessarily shippy but you can certainly read it that way #Kate writes

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