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tyttamarzh · 2 months

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Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter.

This will probably be very long, so if you want to read it, go grab some popcorn and get comfortable.

I have to talk about this because it's eating me up inside. I think I shouldn't give so much importance to comments coming from sewers like Twitter and much less Tiktok, but it makes me so sick (and I'm such a masochist that I even spend time looking for the shit they say to make me angrier and debate them xD).

I am very happy that it was finally made official, with papers certified by the federation, that Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa, I think that was not entirely necessary for them, because they had assumed it for a long time (let's assume that Tallulah needed the pappers to end her W arc), although I suppose that more than anything it was done for those people who still cannot accept it or who deny the paternity of Phil and Missa (With Missa, although it bothers me, I can even understand it, he He hasn't been as present and many people don't know him, but god, it would be a crime to deny Tallulah's paternity to Phil, the man who has kept her alive and given everything for her throughout her life).

I'm glad that, although I have seen negative comments, the majority have been positive (even if it hurts them, it doesn't matter, it's official, screw them). Mainly, the negative comments have been from defenders of W and their arguments are so poor and weak that they are easily refuted. It is obvious that these people do not know Tallulah and have never met her, many do not even know how things turned out and say nonsense like that the current Llulah is an imposter, that it is not fair that they "rewrote" history and erased W (which It is false, Llulah's words make it clear that history was never changed, she simply moved on and that person remained in the past).

I refuted all those arguments on Twitter but screw Twitter, I hate the fucking character limit. So I'm going to expand (I have a lot of poison to get out of my skin). I have some points:

1- "That's not Tallulah" Of course it is her, those who witnessed her life and her growth during the year that passed, can realize that this was her natural evolution. She is the same girl who grew up overcoming her limitations, who suffered, who felt alone, who had abandonment problems, who everyone saw as a poor abandoned girl and who found comfort next to someone who has always loved her like a father and a brother who gave everything for her.

2- "They erased all her lore" No. Tallulah's lore is the one she built with Philza and Chayanne over the course of the year they lived together. Her relationship with W and her longing for him was only part of her story (although people made a lot of emphasis on that), but it was not the only thing that defined her, it never was and only people who never got to met her think that. They see her like an extension of that other person, as the only thing that kept him on the server, but did not see her as an individual character and definitely did not watch Phil's Vods and they never really knew her lore.

3-"How do they explain this in the lore?" Simple, there was someone in her life, someone who was her first father, but who spent very little time with her, who left a long time ago and who is currently no longer part of her life. She learned to let go of the past and focused in the family she has in the present, the family that loves her, that watched her grow up, that makes her happy and gives her security to believe in herself and that is the Death Family, Chayanne, Philza and Missa. Time passes, not all people stay, treasure those who are by your side and let go of what never brought you anything but pain.

4- "They should have created another egg and replaced her" Why replaceher? It has no sense or reason. She is a character who built her own story with her family, a story that never really involved that other person other than with one or another sporadic mention, why eliminate a character that evolved by itself? Little by little she separated herself from what she was at the beginning and that bond that she had with that first father was practically non-existent. What would be the point of eliminating it or replace her with another new character?

5- "No matter what other parents and appearance give her, she will always belong to W because she still carries the name he gave her" No. She never belonged to him. She lived with that man for 2 days and apart from leaving him the promise of a reunion, she did not contribute anything else to her life. She formed her own path, her passion for music was not because of him, it was something she already had before, her love for nature, for animals, everything was built in the days she lived with Philza (even with uncle Bad). She suffered for her first father but she moved on, she matured, she discovered her link with death and her powers as a medium, she acquired her own personality and little by little she built the Tallulah she is now.

She never belonged to anyone but herself and she always fought to prove that, but people insisted on dumping trauma on her and reminding her that she was an abandoned child waiting for someone who at a certain point was nothing more than an idealized dream, because There was never a real relationship between them, they never lived together long enough. She little by little made her decisions and chose the people she wanted to be her parents (and it's not that she had few options, Quackity, Bad and even F wanted to adopt her at the time and asked them to, but she was not a girl who was looking for parents). She could choose and she chose Philza, the person who had always been there for her and later she chose Missa, someone who despite not knowing her very well gave her his love unconditionally and gave her security when she needed it. Then she was able to feel the warmth of being part of a complete family.

6- "They should change her name because W gave her that name! That impostor is not Tallulah!" Why? Her name is not anyone's intellectual property, at the time it was given to her, it belonged to her for better or worse and yes, in some way it will always be a tie to her past, but a past she has already left behind and managed to overcome by creating new memories and dreams.

To a certain extent I understand those who became attached to her because she reminded them of that other person, but if they couldn't see her as her own character, it means that they never cared enough to make the effort to get to know her.

It would shock us all if a character we liked suddenly changed drastically and left behind what like us in the first place. But if they had really watched her, they would have realized that the change was not sudden, it was gradual.

She found in Phil a protective and understanding father who always put her and her brother before anything else, who suffered with her her pain and outbursts of frustration due to the depression caused by the absence of her first father. She found in Missa a cute and loving father who always showers her with love and helps her to have confidence in herself. She doesn't lack anything with them. She has closed a cycle of pain in her life and now she can heal.

She chose the look that makes her feel finally free to be herself, whatever the external reasons that led to that, she finally has a future ahead of her unbound by the past and prefers to be more like the people she considers her family now. If you can't see what all of this really meant to Tallulah and her evolution, it's because you never cared to see even 20% of her story. Well, since the middle of last year she began her journey to break away from a name and be herself, fighting to be seen for who she was.

If those people decide to continue supporting someone despite his shit, that is their right, but the server and the admin were also within their right to decide to kick him out and want to distance themselves from a person they consider unpleasant.

7-There were comments of another type, mainly from people who are really very lost with the lore, people who consider her the daughter of Quackity, even confusing her with Tilín (saying that Q didn't know if she was the daughter of W or Luzu and that she should get a DNA test), when we all know that from the beginning she was W's daughter as a single father and that the only reason Quackity could have become Tallulah's father was if to marry W, but that never happened, W didn't come back and Quackity was never able to develop that relationship with Llulah, she considered him a possible father because she knew W loved him, but Q always being kidnapped or something, they never really related much. There are people who, even with a certificate, continue to insist that Tallulah should have been given to Quackity to raise with Luzu (she had a tender interaction with Luzu and people were already asking him to adopt her, saying that she was alone and had no parents, I seriously hate them!) I shouldn't take seriously people who obviously haven't seen Philza even once and I know that many of those people are hispanic and are limited by the language barrier but if they don't have the slightest idea They shouldn't give their opinion… Tallulah is not an object to be passed from hand to hand, she chose and in order to do so she had to go through a very long and painful arc.

8- I firmly believe that it is a great win to now have a certificate that endorses who the people she considers her parents are, but I insist, it was not necessary, because that has been known for a long time and I am sure that if it was created it was to close the mouth mouth to all those people who are not capable of accepting that.

Tallulah is the daughter of Philza and Missa (and no one else), she is part of the Death Family, that is her story, it is not a whim, a whim is continuing to link her to something she is no longer a part of or wanting to make her a part of a lore that never happened or wanting to give her other parents different from the ones she grew up with (Quackity already had Tilín, Richas and now Pepito, I don't think she needs more children and Tallulah doesn't need any more shitty drama in her life).

Tallulah is a beautiful being, both with her old look and with the new and as Missa says "She deserves only the beautiful things in the world"

Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! Tallulah is Phil and Missa's daughter!!! And I can shout it a thousand times because it's true and she always was, but now it's certified by the government and no amount of complaining or tantrums can change that fact.

Sorry for my bad english. See you!! jajaja ando re agresiva, pero es que nadie se mete con mi familia xD

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mswyrr · 20 days

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kanthony thoughts: wrestling with love and death

The bee is such a perfect symbol for the love story of S2 - it symbolizes the duality of life. It is a symbol of fertility: bees are associated with spring, the act of pollination, and sex (e.g. "the birds and the bees"). But here it is also a symbol of death and trauma. It is what killed Papa Bridgerton, took Violet's true love, stole a father from the kids, and what (in this patriarchy) forced an 18 year old boy to become the "father" of the family, trapping him emotionally in time at that period of loss which Anthony never processed.

Through this duality, the bee embodies the themes and core struggle Kate and Anthony are confronted with. It is both Eros, sexual love and reproduction, and Thanatos, a representation of death. Both are interwoven throughout our lives. And we all end up in death's country eventually, some sooner than others. People like Kate and Anthony, who've met the heartbreak of the world very young, often see death and loss everywhere - because it is everywhere, but so too is life.

There is another fertility symbol that is also a death symbol: the pregnant Violet in flashbacks. The great love she and Edmund shared has brought beautiful children into the world - but the act of creating life can kill a mother. Violet herself has suicidal thoughts about wishing the act of giving life had killed her. It is an inescapable part, even with the best modern medicine, of procreation for someone who gives birth. Bringing life is also risking death.

This is the truth that Anthony and Kate both know and fear and have shaped themselves around. They fear living because they've both suffered losses young and known, from a young age, that death is always there. Uncertainty and loss are woven throughout all joy and love. Their solution to this problem has been simple: they will choose to not participate in living.

They both make statements to this effect. Anthony to Violet, saying he will be not happy but "content" without love.

And Kate shares her similar plans for a miserable "contentment" without love:

Anthony will make himself the image not even of his vibrant and loving father, but of something worse: an old man before his time. No joy, no pleasure, no love. Just duty and a rigid focus exclusively on the mind over the heart. Violet tells him - your father allowed himself to love. The truth is Anthony cannot be like him like this.

Kate has a similar scene - she has made herself exiled from life by choosing to be a spinster. As she explains, she wants to be like Lady Danbury, but in the same way Anthony cannot be like Edmund without letting himself live, Lady Danbury tells her: you will *never* be like me if you go on like this. I had a life! I lived and now I enjoy my social games very much because I am satisfied that I have lived.

These two young people, they're not even thirty yet, and both of them have buried themselves alive. They've done it in a futile effort to escape the pain, the loss, that comes along with the joy of living. We open ourselves to it when we open our hearts. And keeping our hearts shut is not an escape from death, it's giving our lives up to it before we've even had our measure of joy.

In case we missed the point, Kate and Anthony's little sisters come in to drive it home: you think we respect you for the things you do, emptying your life of anything but duty, Daphne tells Anthony, knowing that he longs to be the respected and great figure their father was. We don't. We pity you. OUCH. Harsh but so so necessary - when someone has created a toxic and false narrative in their mind and they're giving all their energy to it, sacrificing everything to this... broken coping mechanism, sometimes a jolt is required. Daphne is letting him know that the thing he consoles himself with, the idea he is respected by his family for his dutiful sacrifice, is a lie.

He cannot be the man he wants to be if he won't let himself live, like Edmund did. Edmund spent every moment of the short time he got on earth living and loving deeply. And when he died, it broke so many hearts. But, as Violet tells Anthony later: I'd do it all over again, I'd suffer the pain again, just to have the time we got together. The love Edmund and I shared was worth all the pain.

And Edwina, for her part, is brave enough to see the truth. She finally realizes that Kate has inadvertently been living vicariously through her - trying to give her little sister her own dreams, not realizing the problem with that. Edwina is a grown woman and she still doesn't actually know what she truly wants her life to be. Again, this is such an OUCH moment. Kate never would have intentionally done such a thing to her beloved little sister. But she needs to hear that she has!

The kind of repression Kate and Anthony engaged in - it comes from a place that makes sense, they even mean it lovingly, but it doesn't work. As Daphne said earlier: these kind of feelings will find a way out. Kate accidentally imposed her own dreams on her sister and thwarted Edwina's growth and choices.

Both younger sibs are courageous enough to demand more, for themselves, and for the elder siblings they love - even though they can be overbearing. Even though, in this moment, both of them need their younger sibs to give them some "tough love" to shock them out of the nonsense they've fallen into and dragged their families along with them.

The parallels are so gorgeous. And the power of these two fearful people, who have buried themselves alive, choosing risk and joy and love finally? Embracing life and all its pain for the joy it brings? Soaringly romantic and such a beautiful affirmation of life.

I adore this romance!

#kanthony #bridgerton #bridgerton meta #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #kate bridgerton #my meta

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onceuponapuffin · 2 months

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Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

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It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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wolfsrainrules · 2 months

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Stares off into the distance:

So.

Apparently my brain is just going to run along with various crossovers. Today, I bring you the thought of a John Wick fusion au (actually five differnet ones) with Batman/DC. (Again: a reminder that all my DC/Batman knowledge is fandom based)

@north-peach hellllppppp

Couple of thoughts for this.

The First: Janet Drake is one of the underworld's best. She's fantastic at manipulation and killing. She could walk herself out of a situation covered in blood, and convince people who saw it all happen that she never touched the body.

Tim grows up at her knee. He learns for the very best. And Janet teaches him everything she can- because despite the job and the crazy hours, and the travel, she loves her son. She wants to give him every opportunity to make it out alive from anything. Unharmed and not in trouble if possible, but alive most of all.

John Wick is a ghost story to the underworld. Tim has always been curious about people who could cause such a stir as his mother or John Wick might. When he meets him, he decides that man is Friend Shaped despite every sign saying Do Not. Despite every horror story saying it's a bad plan. (Much as he will later look at a story in a city of a cryptid said to be a manifestation of a city, a demon, a physical representation of all those who have died unavenged and decide the same)

More than that- John has ZERO idea how to handle Tim. He's a k i d. John's not gonna kill him for just...showing up all the time. It's not like he interferes or causes problems. In fact, he helps sometimes. Provides info, or a direction, a place to crash-

Tim confuses John.

Tim is also the very first to congratulate him, when he manages to get out of the underworld for Helen and mean it. To not even question the 'impossibility' of the Baba Yaga deciding he was done. John didn't bother to ask how Tim knew he'd left and why before the news actually broke out.

Tim watching John get out, go for it and SUCCEED is what gives him the courage to confess to his mother that he wanted to spend some time outside of the underworld, watching the curious case of Batman and Gotham. And Janet loves her son. So she arranges for it to be so.

They both know who Bruce Wayne is. Janet had figured it out before even Tim. She makes him promise that, if he needs her, he will call her, and lets him hunker in Gotham while he does what he wishes. She makes some trips back to Gotham, of course, but not so many that enemies can figure out there's someone important to her there. Janet is THE Femme Fatale. She has plenty of people who would go after her boy. And she's not having that.

Tim doesn't actually PLAN to get involved in vigilante life. At all. He's underworld born and bred. He's a survivor, manipulative, and can be a level of cunning and cold and ambitious that always makes his mother so so proud. He's not a do-right kind of person. He's not someone who does things for people outside of "me and mine" without a reason. Or if it goes against his moral code.

Except Jason Todd becomes one of "Me and Mine". He's a friend. A nosy vigilante who sees that his friend is alone and sets off his instincts as dangerous yes, but also as 'not a civilian' in a conventional sense. He's not a street rat, but he's not...normal either. And Tim? Tim, once he decides this Robin is his Robin, well he can't very well leave him undefended doing this ALONE can he? Though he understands by working with Robin, he cant use the tried and true methods of murder, as it could get pinned to Robin or Batman and he can't have that. If he wants to fly with Jason, he needs to fly by his rules. So a new vigilante is born that runs the streets with Robin. A little more vicious but in a cold and precise manner. Exacting. He doesn't let Jason go after his mother without doing the information gathering, and stops his death by Joker.

For a time, Tim finds himself pulled into the Wayne family, and he...thrives with them. He's happy. He learns under them. Expands his skillset, and still sent out to learn from people around the world. He is NOT fool enough to turn that away- his mother would somehow KNOW wherever she was if he turned down that kind of opportunity and he did not want to imagine the disappointment and response. NO THANK YOU.

When the underworld is kicked like a hornets' nest by John Wick coming back into the fold, Tim is...curious. He's kept an eye on John and Helen, if not stayed in direct and constant contact with them. He hadn't expected John to step foot back into the underworld.

And then his mother sends word to him, calls him back to the Continental, warns that the underworld is getting REALLY kicked up as a result. Tim...needs to go. He cannot imagine NOT answering his mother.

He arranges things on the Gotham end. Says temporary goodbyes and gets to the NY branch asap. Beats his mother there.

Makes it just in time to see John Wick pull a gun on Continental Grounds and shoot a newly crowned seat at the Table and is caught up in the chaos.

His family are going to end UP in the chaos themselves, because they will not cannot leave Tim in it alone. The connections Tim has are MUCH a surprise, he's done very well in hiding exactly what he used to do, and WHY he has a contact and hand in everything, and can ALWAYS get his family what they need. The Second: Tim Drake still grows up at Janet's knee. He learns it all. Thrives in it all. He ends up NOT going down the road of hitman or assassin or any number of things he could have done. Instead Tim Drake chooses to be a Information Broker that claims Gotham eventually, and by means of getting taken in by Bruce, the Wayne Manor and grounds around it become neutral grounds much like the Continental, if you want Tim's services to remain open to you. If you pull the underworld onto the ground...well. Just because Tim goes by Bruce's rules, and just because he PREFERS the route of nonviolence does not in any way mean he would not kill to protect it. To prove a point. To make a statement. To allow one to get away with it is to allow danger to his family and he WILL NOT, no matter that they all are perfectly capable of defending themselves. The Underworld is entirely different than their villains. To not kill the offender is to open themselves to weakness and targets. So Tim WILL.

Gotham is not Wayne Manor. The City is fair game to the underworld. Wayne Manor is NOT.

The Third:

Janet raises her boy at her knee still. Tim chooses the route of Doctor instead. He sets up in Gotham, and decides he likes the foolish vigilantes enough to step in when it's needed and save their lives. He becomes known to the Batfam as a Doc that will not ask questions, but is absolutely one of the most capable people they've seen. If Leslie isn't available, or not close enough, they go to Tim, if Tim doesn't find them, because he certainly seems to know when they need it.

The Batfam does sometimes find him having dealt with Some Things underworld involved so they are WORRIED about their idiot, despite the fact that Tim can and will Wreck everyone that causes problems in his area. He has also shown up stripping off blood covered scrub tops or whatever cause hes coming in hot from another healing thing, and they all wonder and worry and just- it's fine. Everything is fine.

They worry anyway.

Despite the fact that Tim has friends seemingly everywhere, from all walks of life, favors all over, and connections to seemingly everything as a result of his work. (He has absolutely been offered favors as payment, hits, assassinations and all sorts of things. He never turns them away. Janet taught him better. Instead he has markers and logs, books and written promises all stacked away. He remembers them all of course, but better to have written proof somewhere, something official. The Continental holds it for him.

The Fourth:

Gotham HAS a Continental Hotel due to all of its.....everything. Janet Drake runs it. Tim knows EVERYONE and everything, and has absolutely run the counter often. Bruce doesn't know what it is. Ra's absolutely does. Tim is the next to take over the branch and EVERYONE knows it.

He ends up occasionally, when people step on his morals, providing information to the Bat.

Jason managed to find his way inside by accident, and may or may not get himself heavily involved in the underworld even BEFORE the Red Hood thing.

The Fifth:

Same concept as 4 except BRUCE WAYNE runs the Continental and the ripples of everything therein.

#crossoverfun #john wick #batman #tim drake #crossover fun #look idk what happened #brain go brrrr #dc #long post

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misc-obeyme · 1 month

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Hey cc

So in the vampire pop quiz I think it was Dia who said something very interesting "looks like they are fixated on mc because mc is the manifestation of their desires" now that did align well with my effort to understand why would all 7 of them be this obsessed lol

Anyway in my head mc goes like guys that's just my idea of how a proper human should be lol pretty sure if any other human ended up here who kinda like hot demons you all would be obsessed about that human too

Anyway, can I request a drabble about this kind of mc not insecure, just not understanding why mc deserving all this attention

Barb would be interesting to drabble about this since it took him sooooo looooong to open up to mc a bit

happy to see you are still having fun with Barbs thirst trap 😎

-🐆

Hi there, 🐆 anon! I apologize for the delay on this - it's been taking me a little longer than I anticipated to get through the drabble requests...

Augh the Barbatos shower picture is going to be the death of me, I swear. I'm still thinking about a nsfw drabble based on one of his lines lkasdfkjfj it's a problem, I swear.

Anyway, here's a Barb drabble with MC not getting why the demons are obsessed with them! I thought it was a cute little scenario. And Barb is just being super romantic as always lol. I can't help it, I am but a humble fluff writer.

Barbatos could see it on your face - a subtle expression that the others might not pick up on. It told him the story of how you were trying your best to hide your own confusion. It was something that happened every time one of the brothers complimented you, when they fought over you, when they expressed this need to always be near you. A slight furrow of your brow, the tiniest downturn of your lips, the fleeting uncertainty that flashed through your eyes.

Ever since your first day in the Devildom, Barbatos had seen this look. He was always watching you. The more he did, the more it became clear to him that you didn't understand why everyone seemed to think there was something special about you.

Perhaps he waited too long. Perhaps he should have mentioned it to you sooner. But you didn't seem distressed. All he ever saw was bafflement. So he let it be for quite some time. Until he finally found himself alone with you when it displayed itself.

Barbatos had been pouring you a cup of tea as he heard about the brothers' latest antics. You were telling him that they had been arguing over who got to work with you on an upcoming school project.

"And then Levi got involved and I had to calm everybody down before Lotan was summoned," you said.

You were looking down at the table, your mind clearly elsewhere, when that expression flashed across your face.

Barbatos put down the teapot. "Does it make you uncomfortable, MC? When they argue over you this way?"

You met his eyes, seemingly startled by his question. "No," you said. "It's a little silly, but it doesn't make me uncomfortable. Why do you ask?"

"It's only that I've noticed the look of confusion you sometimes have in moments like these," Barbatos said. "As if there's something that troubles you about it."

You frowned in thought for a moment. "I guess I just don't understand why they care so much? Why do they think I deserve this much attention? I just act like a regular human would. Why are they so… obsessed?"

Barbatos chuckled. "Do you truly not see? This is exactly what makes you so fascinating."

"I don't know what you mean," you said.

"Despite being a totally unique individual, you still believe you are ordinary," Barbatos said gently. "I have been alive for a long time, MC. I have met many humans. No two are alike. You are not 'regular' because there is no such thing. You are yourself and that is why we love you."

Barbatos was pleased to see that confused look replaced by a soft blush. "You…?" you couldn't finish your question.

Barbatos took your hand and kissed the back of it. "Indeed," he said. "Even I have fallen under your spell. I will remind you of how special you are for the rest of your life if I must."

You laughed, a little taken aback. "I don't think that's going to be necessary."

Barbatos only smiled, your hand still clasped in his. He was content to see such a soft and sweet expression on your face, a glint of happiness in your eyes. Despite what you said, if he ever did see that confusion there again, he would do everything he could to bring your smile back instead.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#I make him so romantically poetic all the time #if anyone ever said the stuff Barb says in my fics to me irl #I'd probably start laughing #I'm sorry Barb #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x mc #om barbatos #om barbatos x reader #om barbatos x mc #x reader #🐆 anon #request #misc writes

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thattimdrakeguy · 1 month

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I HAVE BEEN READING ZDARSKY BATMAN, AND I HAVE DECLARED: I FREAKING LOVE IT!!

I'm reading the Batman Zdarsky run in reverse. That way if I see any bull I can back out at anytime: and to be honest--besides a few things. I really enjoy it

LIKE YO, THAT IS JUST STRAIGHT UP TIM DRAKE RIGHT THERE. It knows who he is as a character. his motives, it's great.

Screw the people complaining "oh why is tim still robin :((", THIS IS WHY HE IS STILL ROBIN. Because this is when he's at his BEST. When he gets to hit his character purpose, WHEN HE GETS TO BE HIM AT HIS MOST HIM. It's FANTASTIC.

Reading in reverse because I know I hated the first story, it was so contrived and ridiculous.

But this--this is some good shit.

Tim being an underdog fighter, having to use his wits to win the fight? MY DAWG, MY DUDE, MY GUYS, MY GALS, MY THEMS, MY THEYS, THIS IS SO TIMMY DRAKE. This is so damn Tim Drake, guys. Oh, my gosh, I am loving this so far.

Dick has his temper back? And trust me, he isn't normally like this. But he's hitting a limit AND IT'S SOMETHING NEW, NOT JUST A REFERENCE. HE'S ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING HE'D DO, 'CAUSE HE'S AT HIS LIMIT. That's wonderful, man. That is so wonderful.

Plus Tim is the heart of the Bat-Family again? This feels like someone actually went back to read these characters before writing it. I'm not saying everything is perfect of course, but these high marks are exceeding all my expectations. And I STOPPED reading comics because of how the beginning of this run destroyed any hope I had.

You guys have no idea how much I'm enjoying the few issues I've read. Besides the cussing (I remember after a bit they decided Tim was someone who used funny words instead of proper cusses), this feels like the Tim I know and love during the era I especially loved him.

Tim comparing himself to his predecessors? Tim not being a natural? A WRITER REMEMBERING THAT?? It's been so long since I've seen that! Most writers treat him like he was another prodigy when he wasn't. AND THIS GUY REMEMBERED THAT!

I shouldn't be so happy at just seeing Tim do Tim things, and serving his character purpose. BUT YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE A WRITER KNEW WHAT TIM WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE.

Only complaints I have is that Jason feels like a typical Bat-Family member, and not the sketchy outsider that he is. Making him so close makes his character more bland in my opinion. And Steph is--also generic af unless she's wacky quirky...which is a characterization I hate for her, because she started off so damn interesting, but they made her a freaking trope instead, which is such a disservice to her, but she barely does anything so far, so whatever I guess. Doesn't mean much.

This is the first honest thing I've seen that I hated.

Not this

This isn't the Bat-Family

This is a sitcom world the fandom wants to be the Bat-Family and some comply with

They're not a sitcom. The conflicts, and uniqueness of the characters is what makes things feel alive and well.

This stuff is cheap fanservice for the fanon demographic that doesn't buy comics to begin with.

Fanon doesn't belong in canon.

I mean sure Tim could be drawn smaller, the gag of him looking 12 when he's nearly 18 doesn't work when he's bigger than Damian who is 15 (and contrary to some bullshit comics isn't meant to be small. that was a random thing added for writers who aren't clever to write better humor. it actually contradicts things that were already established).

Don't see the big deal though for most of this.

Can't wait to find it, though. Oh boy.

This whole obsession with Zur Batman, is way over done though. So--I wouldn't be shocked if that was the problem, because my golly does that plot point not seem to be stopping--and it was there from the start and part of the reason why I didn't read it 'til now.

Good Tim tho, at least. So heehee, yey for that--I think--I guess.

Oh, well.

It let me peak at a pseudo-version of an AU I made up years ago. So that's pretty freaking cool.

Always a plus.

And redoing Red Robin story beats but better? Normally I'd hate references to Red Robin, 'cause that changed the perception of so many characters for the worst, but ayy, a bit of redemption isn't bad.

Man, just seeing simple stuff like Tim and Bruce being good ol' classic Batman and Robin warms my heart. It's been so long since Batman and Robin has acted like a proper classic Batman and Robin. It's dynamic that's been sorely missed by many.

OH, MY GOSH, WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO STINK SO BAD. THIS STUFF IS GREAT.

Like, DUDE, this is such a Tim thing for him to do!!

And he's showing emotion?? He's crying like how he does?? Because he's not a typical Bat-Family member who just angsts his way through?? THEY'RE MAKING HIM STAND-OUT AGAIN BY MAKING HIM, HIM??

WHY DID THE FIRST STORY HAVE TO SUCK SO BAD?? THIS IS GOOD SHIT.

Like this part is why I originally stopped reading, not because Bruce should think Tim is his soldier, and not his son, THE FREAKING OPPOSITE.

But because the original story has Bruce acting weird when unneeded, just to say this was so unneeded, and adding in all these stupid corny Bat-Family moments was so groan worthy.

This run started off with a story that was a total turn off for me.

To end up being a run that could've kept me enjoying DC, rather than running away from it from as far as I have.

Chip Zdarsky started off awful, but really, he ended up great.

And I've seen people complain about his run, and TRUST ME, there's stuff to complain about. But I have only ever seen the stuff worth complaining about, or stuff I WOULD complain about.

WHEN MOST OF THE RUN IS GOOD

At least when Tim is around.

Go figure.

Maybe I should've paid sole attention to how he wrote Tim and nothing else at the very least for that first story.

'Cause even in the first story, Tim was well-written--it's how cheap the rest of the story telling was in that first story that turned me off--and the weird knew about the movie plans that I am still fully judging harshly. (Love the new Superman film suit, though)

#Tim Drake #Robin #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Dick Grayson #Nightwing #Chip Zdarsky

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plutoispurplw · 4 months

Text

The Story Of Us

Summary: Reader and Timothee!Wonka are having relationship problems and reader is questioning is this is the end of the story of them.

Words: 1K

Couple: Timothée!Wonka x Female reader

A/N: I only did this one shot because three things. 1- Two Days ago the light in my house was gone.

2- The request of @riordanness

3- I love Taylor Swift, you can count how many times I write a name of a song or a lyric.

Masterlistᝰ.ᐟ

My relationship with Willy was great, we we're crazy in love with each other, he was always affectionate like it was our last day alive. He was the love of my life and I knew it. I know it sounds bad but he is the only person or thing that I ever needed, It was like he convert darkness into daylight.

Our personalities were the opposite, I never had hope in people before I met him, always prepared to be stabbed by close people, nothing calm my racing thoughts, always overthinking, I felt haunted so I leave my tired hometown just to discover that I was the problem.

He was the sun and I was the moon.

When I met him after being trapped by Scrubbit, I felt more helpless that I ever felt but then I met him, three days later after I arrived, he become my best friend and then my lover, I always help him to sell his chocolates, and I stay with him after my debt was paid, he was my daylight.

The work of managing the fabric and his store had him tired all the time and stressed out and that when it happen, our bedroom that was our secret oasis become a battle ground, this was a war that neither of us could end without fighting over and over again.

The only thing I could thought before falling asleep was that if this was the end of the story of us. The fairytale was slowly dying and I couldn't bear witness it.

How long can we still be a sad song? How long the silence would last until one of us leave? I didn't even remember the last time we kissed, or cuddle, or even talk in a affectionate way.

One night I was exhausted of this, I needed to feel again his caress and his lips against my collarbone, we were laying on the bed, the silence was still there, I got more closer to him and I tried to hug him but he only pulled away from my hold and got up from the bed.

I finally explode like a volcano. "I'm tired of this, why are you avoiding my touch or hugs like I'm something poisonous!" I yell at him while being sat on my knees on the bed.

"Stop, I don't wanna fight tonight, just stop."

He said with a very annoyed tone, his hands running through his hair.

"I'm tired of the silence, I miss when you cuddle with me while whispering sweet nothings against my hair." Tears streaming down my face, memories replaying like broken records. I got up from the bed and walk towards him. "I know that you're stressed out and that you don't wanna fight but we have to fight, if we keep like this out love is gonna die."

"You adore to fight, don't you? You're always want to fight." His voice sound more frustrated, his eyes fill with a anger I never seen before in him, maybe he was like the rest of the people after all.

"This is the last time we fight and I'm gonna go away, this is your last chance to give me a reason to stay because you're losing me." He stay quiet and didn't say anything, I just change my clothes and pack my things, he didn't do anything to stop me, I wish he would.

When I left the house, I went to a friend's house, the whole way I was crying, did I ever meant something to him for him to try to fight for me?

I stayed the night there waiting for him to come but then days passed by and then one week and then became almost a month without seeing him.

This is how the things end? My love story never got a happy ending? It was my fault? I was the problem in this situation too? Thoughts like this filled my mind before falling asleep, my dreams were memories of him.

That day I needed to get more clothes and things so I went to our house, when I came into our bedroom I saw him seeing the ceiling, the room look messy, his expression full of sadness when he He saw me, he got up from the bed and walk towards me.

He look like he wanted to talk but how we could talk without screaming at each other? Without yelling that was the others fault. The problem was that I was bleeding and I could just runaway and live but my heart wanted to stay, to try to resolve things even if I bleed more, even if I died.

"I'm sorry, I should have fight or talk with you but I couldn't, I didn't want our love to die but in the end that's what happen." I started to cry, part of me wanted just to kiss him but I was still hurt.

"If you don't want to forgive me, don’t do it but please just understand that I love you and that I never wanted to lose you, why would I? You're perfect and you're the love of my life, since I meet you I meet you that day, I knew that it was fate that brought us together." Tears falling from his eyes, his eyes full of sadness, the happiness and daylight was almost gone.

I don't know who did it first but we were hugging each other like we would die if we didn't, my face against his chest wetting his shirt. He whispering apologies against my hair, his hands caressing my back as I cry.

I pull away to see his face, he was crying too, I stood on my tiptoes, my hands cupped his face and pull him closer to close the gap between our lips, when they touched it feel like heaven. The battleground was back again our secret oasis.

This wasn't the end of the story of us, it was just the start of another chapter in our fairytale

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ponderingmoonlight · 9 months

Note

Prompt #15 with Megumi? Rivals to lovers with happy ending please ♥️

There you go, I'm so so sorry this took so long <3 I hope you still enjoy it, I find it quite hard to write enemies to lovers under 5000 words :D

Opposites attract

Pairing: Megumi x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Synopsis: Megumi hated you the moment you stepped into Jujutsu High for the first time. As time flies, he always sees himself confronted with you on missions. However, one of these missions makes him rethink his feelings towards you

Warnings: Megumi is an ass from time to time, language

„Why am I here, blindworm?“

There you sit, sloughing on your chair at the classroom, feet stretched out in front of you. Damn, you were taking the best nap of your life when your stupid sensei came storming in and woke you up rudely. He surely wants to send you on another mission – hopefully alone. If you have to work with one of these losers again, you break off.

Especially him.

God, you truly hated Megumi Fushiguro. His quiet way, tall figure and calculating personality. He is quite the opposite of your outspoken, confident and risky self. Maybe that’s why you two don’t get along at all. And maybe that’s the reason why you always end up together. Hopefully not today…

“As charming as ever, I like that. I have a mission for you, (y/n)!”, Gojo cries out in joy.

“Again? I just returned from one. Remember?”

“I remember that you wiped the floor with Megumi’s ass, even though that wasn’t exactly the task”, he replies dryly.

“Yeah, that was fun.”

Both you and Megumi are grade 2 sorcerers while being in your first school year, which means that you can basically carry out missions alone but are happily sent together by Gojo for more complicated matters – much to your chagrin and probably his. So whenever you get the chance to give Megumi a hard time you gladly seize the opportunity.

“Don’t be so rough, I know you have a sweet spot for charming boys like him.”

Oh, you know all too well that your sensei just wants to get on your nerves. But as soon as he mentions positive feelings towards a coward like Megumi, you can’t help but explode.

“Shut up, ew! I have no sweet spot for anybody!”

“Yeah, everyone here knows that”, Megumi’s low voice mumbles behind you.

“You.”

Your voice is shaking in venom while the vein on your forehead threatens to pop out any minute.

“What the hell is that loser doing here?”, you groan, face completely twisted in annoyance.

You just knew it. Seems like it’s Satoru’s favorite job to annoy the shit out of you by always putting the two of you together.

“Come on, give me Panda. Or what about Maki? Some girl-power would be nice. But not that”, you hiss through gritted teeth.

“God, you’re so full of yourself. Remember the last time when I saved your puny figure from getting eaten alive by that curse? You’re probably the worst and cruelest person I’ve ever met”, Megumi barks back in annoyance.

“I don’t mind being the villain in your story because you’re a clown in mine, Fushiguro.”

“That was the nicest conversation you two had in a long time, great! Now let’s get to work, I’m sure you’re doing just fine my children!”, Gojo interrupts while hugging you both.

Is there a way out of this madness? Maybe you can pretend you’re sick, too weak to go on a mission. But that’s not your standard and you know that. Giving Megumi the satisfaction of staying at home while he gets beaten up isn’t an option.

“Maybe I’m lucky and you die on me”, you mumble under your breath, storming out of the room faster than Megumi can follow past Yuji who just stares at you in awe.

God, Megumi hates you so much. How can a person be so full of herself? Yes, your abilities are quite outstanding, your curse technique is very good for being a first class student and to be honest you are actually pretty handsome, but the problem is that you are very aware of those facts. And you make no bones rubbing that into everyone’s face – especially his. His stolen glance is set on your back. You do have a really nice figure, feminine curves even though you train several hours a day. Yes, really attractive.

He shakes his head in disbelief. What the hell is he thinking? You are the crappiest person he knows, everything about you is disgusting, he hates you!

“Wow, they really hate each other”, Yuji comments, eyes following the two of you in disbelief.

“No, they don’t. Trust me, this is something completely different. And I love nothing more than teasing that out”, Gojo replies with a cheeky grin.

______________________________________________________________

“Stop breathing so loud, Fushiguro.”

Kiyotaka can’t help but glance at you in the rearview mirror, too stunned to speak by your nonsensical words. Why does Gojo keep sending the two of you on missions together? The air in the car is so thick that it could be sliced by a katana.

“Rot in hell, (y/n).”

He never heard such cruel words come out of Megumi’s mouth except when you are around.

“I’m already there, you’re here after all”, you bark back.

“Stop fighting you two, we’re almost there.”

Your gaze wanders around the rainy area. Somehow he’s right, you should focus on your mission. The fact that two of you were sent here can only mean that it’s going to get ugly. Once again it’s about a school, once again a lot of young people are dying. You need to stop this madness.

“There you are, I’ll create the curtain now. Good look you two.”

“Skilled people don’t need luck, but maybe it’ll help you Megumi.”

His blood boils in anger, just a glimpse into your stupid pretty faces challenges his self-control all over. Who do you think you are?

“What’s wrong with you? Can you just pull yourself together until we ended this mission? I hate you too, but now we have to work”, Megumi smacks into your direction.

“Always the good boy, such a role model! I want to puke in your face, it makes me fucking sick!”, you challenge him, watching as his facial expression darkens with every word.

“You.”

With a swift motion, you’re trapped against the wall by his body. Your sharp and fast breath hangs in the thick air between you two, the way he pins your wrists against the brick wall makes…sparks fly. You can’t help but notice his striking blue eyes when he glares down at you, the warmth that radiates from his body along with his delicious scent. Fuck, what is wrong with you? Why is your face heating up under his gaze, why does it feel so…good to feel his frame pressed against your own? His lips suddenly look so inviting, so warm and soft. But no, you hate him, you hate Megumi since you first met, he is everything you despise reincarnated in one person. God, he annoys you so badly, you need to get out of his grip, you need to-

“Stop it. I’m serious”, he gasps against your face, lips so close to your own that you can feel his breath brush against your now prickly skin.

Fuck, you see stars. His grip around your wrist tightens, his face is getting closer to yours. Will he…? No, that’s impossible, Megumi hates you with all his heart, he told you over and over again. And you hate him too since the moment you first laid your eyes on him. But why…why do you feel the urge to press your lips against his?

“Or what?”

Your voice is suddenly so soft and vulnerable. God, you look so adorable with that pink blush creeping up your cheeks, lips parted and doe eyes wide open. That desire, that urge to brush his lips against yours seems to become unbearable. Just once, just this one damn time. Just to prove to himself how disgusting you are.

Boom.

It happens faster than any of you can react. The wall behind you explodes and buries you under its rubble.

You are instantly greeted by scorching pain consuming your whole body. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Blood streams down your face like a waterfall, your right leg aches in the most disgusting way imaginable.

“Fuck, are you alright (y/n)?”, Megumi screams, eyes widen in horror.

So much blood. Your whole body seems to be covered in crimson. Even though you’re not screaming or even groaning, he can clearly see the shock creeping up your eyes when realization hits you. But he has to focus on that curse. Yes, he needs to take care of that before he can help you.

You desperately try to free yourself from the debris that threatens to crush your body while Megumi fights off the curse that seems to be responsible for all of this. As usual, his facial expression is dead serious while his little shikigami work for him.

“How bad is it?”, he questions, eyes focused on the monster in front of him.

Your leg feels like burning alive, a little glance at your body is enough for you to realize that you are not well. Maybe even so critical that time is running out for you.

“It’s bad”, you hiss back while pressing your trembling hand against the gash in your thigh.

A few broken ribs, a laceration on the head, here and there some open wounds and abrasions – nothing too serious, you’ll get over that. But the giant gash in your thigh is definitely something else. Your leg was almost completely pierced by an iron rod. Surely that wouldn’t be a problem either if the bar was still in you, but it isn’t. And that’s why you’re bleeding out at the moment.

Finally that curse is gone. Just a look at you is enough to make Megumi turn pale in an instant. You’re sitting in a pool of your own blood, lids hanging heavy in your eyes. His heart skips a beat when realization hits him like a wall. You could die right here if he doesn’t do anything.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here”, he mumbles, hands on their way to grab your body.

“I don’t need your help, Fushiguro”, you growl at him.

“Are you sure? Cause it sure does look like it”, Megumi replies dryly and begins to inspect your wounds.

“If even half of that blood is yours you need to get out of here right now. I’m calling Gojo-sensei.”

“Everything hurts”, you blur out.

The sight of your terrified eyes makes Megumi’s heart sink in his chest. He has never seen you like this. But what’s even worse is the fact that he is so damn worried about you, that the thought of losing you alone makes his breath hitch.

“Stay with me. Don’t close your eyes.”

His voice sounds so soft, echoes as sweet as honey in your ear.

“Megumi.”

His strong arms free you from the rest of the rubble above you and lift your numb body off the ground with ease. Your vision slowly but surely begins to get blurry, it gets so hard to keep your tired eyes open.

“What is it, (y/n)?”, he softly asks while maneuvering his shikigami around in order to find the other curses that have to be here.

“I don’t remember a moment where you were so kind to me”, you purr.

“Well, that’s because there wasn’t a single moment where you were so kind to me”, he remarks with a small smile.

“I h-have to say…That…That you’re not…t-that bad.”

Your words are a true mess, so quiet that he has to focus on your low voice in order to understand. But oh you look so lovely, wearing a soft smile on your lips and that tender gleam in your eyes makes his heart skip a beat. Over and over, he told himself that he truly hates you, that you are an evil person that doesn’t deserve his affection. Always keen to hide his stolen glances and the way your sight makes him hold his breath. Your body, your brain, your everything. But seeing you like this, vulnerable laying in his hands, he can’t help but admire you. Admire a woman this strong and independent, a woman who never fears anything.

“You’re pretty okay too I guess”, he replies, hands wrapped tighter around your sagging body.

“How about staying awake for a little longer? I bet you can’t make it until we’re back at Jujutsu High.”

“I bet I will, asshole.”

____________________________________________________________

“She kept bugging me about telling you that she stayed awake to the end. And that you’re a loser.”

“So she’s fine, that’s great!”, Gojo proclaims and pads Megumi’s shoulder.

It was a close call, he knows it. And that sweet seconds just before the wall behind your back shattered…What was that? Affection? No, no, no. That’s simply not possible. You are the worst person walking on this planet. The thought of you alone makes his gut twist in disgust and heats up his face. You drive him crazy like no other. And the fact that you almost died and were a decent person for one second won’t change that.

“Should have left her there. I’m leaving”, Megumi mumbles and turns away.

Why was he here anyway? Shoko already stitched him up a few hours ago, he has no business being in the hospital wing. “Didn’t you want to visit her, Megumi-chan?”

“I would rather train with you than seeing her. Why would I care about her well-being?”, he remarks quickly.

Gojo and Shoko watch him as he storms out.

“Do they really think they hate each other?”

“Yup”, Gojo confirms.

The fresh air of the evening hits his face with full force. Fuck, what the hell is wrong with him? Why is he feeling this way? He shouldn’t be worried about your well-being, he shouldn’t care at all about the fact that you are injured. After all, you put yourself in that situation. God, he just hates you so much. In his world, there’s no place for positive feelings towards you. But still… He stops in his tracks, eyes glued to the ground.

Why does he want to turn around, to let his feet carry him into the hospital room, to sit beside you? What is it that urges him to at least check on you? Pictures of you flood his mind. Your breathtaking smile, the stunning glimmer in your eyes, the confidence that’s dripping from your sweet voice. Why do you have to be so damn perfect and why the hell is his heart beating so fast by the thought of it alone?

As if in trance, he begins to walk back into the direction of the hospital wing, back where you are. He has to prove to himself how much he hates you just one more time. Just once…

He quietly sneaks past the room where he hears Shoko and Gojo still talking. If you have to stay for the night, you have to be down the corridor on the right. Over and over, he looks over his shoulder. If someone catches him sneaking up on you he might need to burry himself alive. All the jokes, the constant teasing from Gojo about you and him really get on his nerves. Why can’t they see that he fucking hates you?

There it is, the door to you. As noiseless as possible he opens it and gets immediately greeted by your gaze. You almost look surprised when he closes the door behind him again and awkwardly stands in the middle of the room, simply staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“Didn’t expect you here”, you comment dryly.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on coming either.”

“Did Shoko tell you that I stayed awake?”

“Sure.”

“And that you’re a loser?”

He gifts you with his most annoyed look.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Listen, there’s something I wanted to tell you in person…”, you begin while nervously fumbling with your fingers.

This catches Megumi off guard. You always know what to say or react. How is it possible that you are jumpy? And to top it off, because of him?

“Why did you save me, Megumi?”

What on earth is going on? He scratches the back of his head, too stunned to speak. Are you serious?

“Just because you think I’m the bad guy doesn’t mean I am a bad guy, y’know”, he mumbles.

You let his words sink in, gaze never leaving his face. The last hours really showed you that Megumi isn’t as bad as you always tried to make yourself believe. He saved you despite all the things you said to him without even blinking, risking his own life to save yours. Maybe…maybe it isn’t even hatred you feel towards him.

But something completely different.

“I will never say this again but…I think you’re my favorite enemy”, you confess quietly with a small smile.

Megumi’s heart stops beating for a second, your sweet words triggering feelings in him he tried so hard to avoid. God, how many nights did he tell himself that you are no good, that he just has to hate you with all his heart? But…Is he really hating you though?

“I can probably give that back”, he mumbles.

For once in his life, Megumi sees nothing but your striking beauty and brain when his gaze meets yours. Maybe, just maybe you aren’t as bad as he thought you are. But why does he feel so strongly towards you? What the hell is wrong with his heart?

“Let me kiss you. Just once. Just to prove myself that I hate you”, he blurts out.

You hold your breath, dopamine, adrenalin and who knows what other hormones pump through your veins and leave you dizzy for a second. You didn’t just hallucinate him saying that, right? The sincerity in his eyes tells you he’s dead serious.

“Sure”, you reply automatically.

With fast steps he crosses the room, now standing in front of you. And then he bends down to your bed, grabs your face and kisses you so passionately that you forget how to breathe for a moment. Your tongue intertwines with his, dancing in the most delicate way while you hold onto his strong shoulders for support. Is this really happening or are you dreaming again? Just a few hours ago, you spat venom at him like every other month before. But this…This feels so much better than constantly insulting him and to pretend that you hate him with all your heart. You realize with all clarity of your intense kiss that you probably never really hated him. No, this feeling his completely different from disgust.

He breaks away from you, panting hard just like you. Your glossy eyes look up to him, hands still resting against his shoulders.

“Yes, I do. I absolutely hate you”, he breathes out.

“I hate you too”, you moan before pulling him close with all force for another passionate kiss.

Maybe, just maybe Megumi Fushiguro isn’t so bad after all.

But just maybe.

_____________________________________________________________

Bonus:

“Oh, (y/n)! Are you feeling any better?”, Yuji shouts at you while waving you over.

“OMG, are you seeing this. Am I dreaming?”, Nobara mutters next to him, completely mesmerized by the sight of you and Megumi.

Are those shikigami? Your hand is intertwined with Megumi’s, the both of you walking next to each other and…smile? Since when exactly are you smiling at Fushiguro?

“What do you mean?...Wait, when the hell did this happen?”

“Megumi, I thought you hate (y/n)!”

“Would you two mind to stop staring at us like that? (y/n) and I are kind of a thing now”, Megumi explains briefly while stopping in front of both of his friends.

“Did he force you into this, (y/n)?”, Nobara whispers in your ear.

You let out a heartfelt laughter, the confusion of your friends matching with your own.

“This might be the worst decision I ever made, but let’s see how it all works out.”

Megumi gives you a reproachful look and squeezes your hand firmer. Oh, even in a relationship, there will always be that small part of him that hates you.

Along with the much bigger part that loves you with all his heart.

368 notes · View notes

respectthepetty · 4 months

Note

How do you feel about PheeJin. I'm conflicted. I can see that Phee actually caught feelings, even if he feels guilty about Non still. And Phee and Jin do have chemestry. But I don't know. There was something was missing for me, I guess maybe it felt too fast.

Anyway what do you think are the chances of Phee/Non reunion?? Shall we clown together for a happy ending, or do you no longer see them coming back together??

@italianpersonwithashippersheart, because I'm crazy, once I realized Phi took Jin to Eden from the previews last week, I mentally pushed Jin off a cliff and focused on one sole thing -

NON IS ALIVE!

TLWR: It could get messy between Phi x Jin, White is a problem or salvation, and . . . Keng might be alive too *eye roll*

This entire theory can go up in flames in the next episode, but come with me for a second to Optimistic City:

I thought Phi was the mastermind and that Tan came along for the ride, but Tan is actually the mastermind while Phi is being dragged along. I like that Phi caught feelings for Jin because, hopefully, this means Phi is going to tell Jin about this crazy plan to get a confession, and it's going to come back around that Jin recorded the video; therefore, these two are going to look at each other with disgust unless they are like Babe from Pit Babe and completely cool with it, which I'm also very cool with.

When Phi didn't drink the water, I instantly was like "oh, so he knows it's spiked with drugs!" but then he commented when Jin was freaking out that he hadn't realized it was spiked.

And I love this because it implies that Tan has always had a different agenda and has left Phi out of it.

Since it seems Tan knows more details than we thought.

So if Dead Friend Forever is giving me a story about brotherly love rather than one of romantic love . . .

Then who am I to argue with a tale of redemption.

Which is why I think Keng might be alive.

People have pointed out one of the masked killers is on crutches.

Which would make sense if someone had gotten hit by a car and the injury didn't heal properly.

I don't want Keng to be alive, but the fact remains that Jin keeps seeing Keng, which we know is a hallucination just like all the other guys, while Tan seemed like he genuinely saw an actual person in the house.

The hooded person also looked up at him, and kept it moving.

Yet Phi hasn't seen or heard anything which is why I thought he knew about this hooded figure and was in on it unlike Tan, but why would the hooded figure stop to peek a glance at Tan?

When Top was attacked, Tan was upstairs "sleeping." Before Uncle Dang showed up to the house, Tan had just arrived to see the aftermath of the fight between Phi and Tee. And Tan was quick to suggest they use Por's place for Jin's farewell party in the first place.

But Phi immediately ran to Jin's house to try to speak to him.

And even questioned Tan! It's been over two years since they infiltrated the group. Why now? Why wait two years for a confession?!

Because it's no longer about a confession for Tan.

I mentioned that if Non is alive, it would make sense that he waited to do something until after Tee's uncle was no longer a threat, and homeboy is dead now!

Tan's hallucination was eerily specific: Non was framed. Expose the Fucked-Up Five. Get Non's forgiveness.

And Tan has always thought ALL of the boys are bad and specifically narrowed in on Jin as the reason for his brother's disappearance.

If Phi truly fell for Jin, he will try to protect Jin against Tan who is going rogue. But Tan needs an inhaler. It could hold the antidote if Tan has bigger plans to kill them all, but my original thought was it would be the perfect way to die without dying. He wouldn't have to get stabbed or hit. It would take no physical injury. He would just need his inhaler and not get to in time.

Stop breathing. Pass out. Be a dead body as chaos continues around him, and when the dust clears after the masked killers have finished everyone off, he gets back up and walks out of the woods as New because Tan who has asthma never existed in the first place.

Non was presumed either dead or missing. Both boys could walk out of those woods without anyone even realizing they were there. The only issue is White, BUT he wasn't supposed to be there either.

And yet he is keeping Tee right where he needs to be.

White's only connection to the group is he is dating Tee for almost three years.

His backstory is as thin as Tan's was, but I have never seen him as "in" on the kills. White hasn't been physically harmed unlike the Fucked-Up Five. White continues to remain in the safety of the house when everyone has to venture outside. I want White to live, so either he has his reasons for being on this trip and keeping Tee out there, or White is really as innocent as he appears and Tan will save the little one as an act of redeeming himself for not saving his brother.

Which would make the thrill of Non being alive even sweeter!

Because it would mean that everyone who "wronged" Non suffered. His mom. His dad. The Fucked-Up Five. Phi. (Keng, please God!). And even possibly his brother unless the narrative allows the brothers to be the final love story. It's scorched earth.

Perth's character still exists, and I think he helped Non survive somehow. I have no idea how all of this will turn out, and I'm excited to see, but the second Phi took Jin to Eden, he was dead to me.

And Non was more alive than ever.

#non is alive #episode ten don't do me dirty #dead friend forever #praying on bended knee that we are getting brothers #Tan is the mastermind #and White is the final gay #please pretty please

76 notes · View notes

ghostfanwriter · 1 year

Text

🔥✨ Safe with him ✨🔥

Part two to Safe✨🔥

🔥 Pairing: Raider!Joel Miller x afab!Non-innocent Reader.

✨Synopsys: Joel is trying his best to stay away, but you're also doing your best to break him. When one of his men try to hurt you, you understand why his people respect fear him so much. And just how safe you are with him.

🔥 Features: 🔞 content — Attempt of sexual assault (not graphic), violence, murder, teasing, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, riding Joel's face, choking, praise with degradation (my favorite 🌟), creampie (he does it twice), a bit of cockwarming at the end.

✨ Word Count: Over 6k.

🔥 About this: First part of this felt so organic, so natural, it was hard to write something that felt like stood up to it. This part is more packed with smut, with some story in-between. Also, make sure to always read the alt text of the gifs I use, in this one I explained the face I imagine him doing sometimes.

✨ Author's note: It took me forever, but it's finally here. Hope you like it as much as you did the first one. The reception to it was insane, and I can't thank you enough for all the love 💕. Once again likes, reblogs and comments are very, highly appreciated 💖

Good reading ✨🔥

🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨

"Joel, Joel... Joel."

Some days it was the only word you'd say out loud besides 'Yeah, I'm alright. Don't need anything.'

You called, but he seemed to never listen. To never feel you call, to never come back.

You just hoped he would if you actually needed him.

🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨

You thought Stockholm syndrome needed some time to settle in.

But apparently not. From day one, you're into this.

You're into him.

You honestly don't even think about the people back home. How scared and worried they must be for all of you, looking for you and hoping to find you all well one day.

You sometimes think about your people who are here, but The Man always reassures you.

"Told you, doll. They're working. Helping us build, cook, hunt. They're all alive and safe."

Was it true?

Maybe, maybe not.

But you were blocking all of those places in your mind. It was easier if you didn't think.

If you focused on making The Man happy.

If he were happy with you he wouldn't hurt your people, because you cared for them.

Right?

You could only hope. Only trust him somehow.

So you do what you can.

You keep him happy.

You clean, you cook, you wash his clothes. You brush your hair, put on pretty clothes he got you and use some perfume he told his men to find for you on a run for supplies.

You make sure to let him watch you. To finish cooking when you know he's coming home, always when the sun is setting, because you know he likes to see it. Clean — specially low places — when he's around, so you can bend over and give him a glimpse of you underwear.

Those were his favorites: domesticality and profanity.

Playing house with you while enjoying the view, while fantasizing about you.

The problem was...

He never let you touch him again after that night.

He'd look, his eyes always on you, but he wouldn't come close, he wouldn't give in again.

But each night you needed him more, you craved him.

So you used your weapons.

✨🔥′

Today he only left once, first thing in the morning for a couple of minutes, before coming back home and staying for the day. He had lunch with you, talking and laughing as you did, played his guitar on his porch, and watched you while you cleaned his wardrobe.

His favorite hobby.

"I thought you never wore anything under your dresses, baby." He said from his bed as you bent down to clean, giving him a full view of your covered ass.

"You never check." You responded, an edge of disappoinment on your voice.

"Thought I could trust you, sugar. But apparently not, will have to see for myself everyday now." He said, and you stopped cleaning, and, keeping your knees straight, slowly removed your panties, throwing it at him.

He took it with a grunt and slowly started stroking himself, just from looking at you. When he was getting close, he called you.

"Fuck, baby, come here. Don't wanna make a mess for you to clean." He panted, beckoning for you to come over.

You walked to him, seeing that your panties were in his hand, around his cock, wet, covered in his precum.

You kneel in front of him and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling your mouth down on him.

"Just the tip, baby. Just enough for you to take it." You happily do as you're told, sucking his tip for a couple of minutes, while he pumped himself deep and slow, his other hand holding your hair up so he could watch your face, your eyes never leaving his.

His hand was there also to prevent you from taking him in deeper. Which you try to do.

"I said just the tip, baby. Be good for me, don't get greedy on me now."

So you behave. Just the tip, just enough to not let it fall on the floor.

He cums with a grunt, filling your mouth twice before being done, softly pushing you away from him.

"So pretty." He praises as you lick your lips.

Panting, he looks at you and hands you your panties. "I think you should keep it, you'll make better use of it." You say with a smirk as you get up.

"There you're right, angel. This only knows how to stay on my way. But put it back on, there's men around the house today, don't want them seeing what's not theirs."

You lift your right foot, mentioning for him to put it on you. He smiles and passes it through both your legs, caressing and squeezing your thighs as he went up.

His face, close to your pussy, watching it as his thumbs lightly part the front of your folds. He grunts and shakes his head once with a sigh and a smile, pulling your panties all the way up and kissing your clothed mount before adjusting your dress and lightly slapping your ass. "C'mon, finish what you were doing."

You do so, finishing his wardrobe and turning back at him, finding him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out the window.

"Can you tell me your name?" You ask and he looks at you, without turning his head, just his eyes. "Why do you need to know?"

"I'd be good to put a name to my moans, so you know it's you I'm thinking about." You say with a sweet smile, and now he turns to look at you, shaking his head, smiling and grunting the same way he did while looking at your pussy. "You're the price I pay, angel. Now I get it. You're making me pay for all the things I've done in this life, making my life so fucking hard."

"You know, you could just do it. I don't understand why you think it'd be so bad." He scoffs. "I told you. Don't want your daddy, or your mommy, or your boyfriend to come over later and try to bother my people. We have women... pregnant women. And children. Don't need that right now."

The fact that he is being so true to his word, that he's really not doing anything to not harm his people, so you could go back home one day, just makes you want him even more.

How he never tried anything, how even when he was getting hard from watching you cook, you wouldn't feel bad like you felt when his men look through the window.

You liked how he looked at you. It felt different.

It all makes you wanna keep pushing him.

"You kidnapped me. Us. You think my people aren't looking for us already?" You ask.

"But I'm letting you go. Told you, if I have you, I won't want anyone else to. Will keep you here, with me. Mine." He said, a hint of pain in his voice, and you notice a volume returning to his pants, your own core burning with his words.

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't have a mommy, or a boyfriend... Or a daddy to come after your people." You say, touching his shoulder and internally moaning — at least this one you managed to hold back — at how he stiffens under your touch.

"I just want to make you feel good." You say, that low and aroused voice back on your lips. "Want you to make me feel good too." You whisper, now running your fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes, indulging in the gesture.

You caress his hair for a few seconds, and he hums, moving his head onto your hand for you to reach new places.

"Joel." He says with his eyes still closed. "The name you should call is Joel." You run your fingers over his hair one more time, pulling it away from his face and kissing his lips softly, holding his head from both sides.

He doesn't pull away, allowing you to touch his lips for the first time.

"The man I'll call is Joel. And I hope you listen. Hope you come when I call you. When I need you." You whisper over his lips, his eyes opening to look at you.

You let him go and walk away, his eyes following you.

✨🔥'

"Joel."

Joel was not soft.

That he wasn't.

But a pretty girl is any man's perdition.

And when your voice calling him sounded so sweet, so nice, so needy, he couldn't not come to you.

"Sounds like a fucking angel, baby." He said, standing by the door, that you convenently left open for him. You whimper when you see him, your eyes dropping to his pants.

"Don't get any ideas, though. I'm just here to watch. C'mon, take this off you." He said, walking towards you and removing the blanket you covered yourself with — knowing he'd come and remove it. Your knees are bent, so you palm yourself, closing your legs and looking into his eyes.

He sits by your feet. "Open them, baby. We both know you're not shy." But you don't, just looking into his eyes, smiling and biting your lower lip, and he laughs.

You want him to touch you.

"I see. Won't work, though." He spreads your legs, then pulls your hand away. You lift your hips, trying to brush on his hand, and he grunts, seeing you all wet and swollen, pushing your hips back down.

Knowing it's all for him, right in front of him, makes him almost fall mouth first on you, makes him want to taste you and make you cum for him.

But he knows he can't.

"It's because of you." You moan, and he shoots you a stern and scary look, his eyebrows low and his eyes dark. "For you." He swallows, sitting further from you onto your bed and opening his belt.

You mention to go to him, but he shoots you that look again.

The look that simultaneity makes you want to behave and misbehave. To be good for him so he'll praise you, and to be bad to see what he's gonna do about it.

But you know that, slowly, you're gaining him. So you sit back down and spread your legs.

"Good girl."

He pulls himself out of his boxers, already hard and wet. You lick your lips and return your circles around your clit, inserting one, then two fingers inside yourself.

He grunts and groans softly as his own movements become more desperate. His eyes never leaving your pussy.

You're dripping onto the sheets. There's a puddle forming underneath you, and he can't take his mind out of how good you must feel. How nice and tight, warm and wet you have to be.

He moans once and you retribute the sound. You fasten your circles, being as deep on him as he is on you. Thinking about how nice and painful it'd be to take him in, how thick and big he is. How much you crave to feel him twitch and pulse inside you. How rough he'd be with you, how he'd care for you after it.

That's the thing with him. You know how rough he can be, but you've also seen his softer side. You want him to heartlessly pound you, be mean to you, make you cum until you're dumb, whisper things in your ears, call you names.

And then call you his angel, tell you how good you were for him while he caress your hair until you fall asleep on his chest.

The thought makes you cum, a loud and shameless "Joel" leaving your lips, then being the only word you can put out. Calling and crying out for him, needing him.

He touches your thigh, making you look at him. Your eyes hazed, showing him how far you were, how high he took you before even touching you.

"I'm here, baby. Come here to me." He coos, and you craw until him, lowering yourself in front of his dick, his hand coming for your hair, helping it up.

He doesn't say anything about how deep you can go, so you start sucking just his tip, careful and tight, feeling his precum drip and leak into your mouth. He thrusts into your mouth and you take him in further with a moan, going as deep as you can, opening your throat to make room for him.

He grunts and you can already feel him pulsing on your tongue. "So fucking good, baby. Gonna cum in this mouth."

You moan as you taste him flood your mouth, drinking it like you haven't seen water in weeks.

You keep sucking him after he's finished, and he lets you, caressing your hair and moaning as you do so.

"You know this could end up really bad for your people, don't you, baby?" He asks, stroking your hair as you run your tongue up his length.

"I know, Joel. But I think I want to see it. Watch you keep me with you." You say right before licking around his tip like a lollipop and taking him in your mouth again. He furrows his brows, piercing his lips together.

"You have no idea what you're saying, sugar. Not something you'd like to see." He says, pulling himself out of your mouth and fixing his pants before getting up.

He gives you a light and sweet peck on the lips, grabs a towel on your bathroom and comes back to you. He opens your legs, cleaning you. "I would love to see it, Joel. Not to my people. But I'd love to see what you'd do."

You say as he kisses your forehead and walks outside your room, never turning around to look at you.

✨🔥'

Joel was not soft.

That he wasn't.

So when he spent his days thinking about you — not only wanting to come home to see you, but actually started to think about you, to wanna come home to see you — he knew he had to go away.

Your people were of great help for his people, so it still wasn't the time to let you go, but he needed distance.

So he called some of his men on a few days long run for supplies and food.

He left men watching his house. "I want one of you by this fucking door every second I'm not here. She tells me anything happened to her, anyone, any of you, fucking looked through the window and I'm killing every single one of you." You heard him tell the men.

Then he came to you, holding you on a loose embrace, removing the hair from your face. "You need anything and they get it for you, okay? Anything. Just ask. Keep the curtains closed and don't give them any smiles or looks. These men are animals, they don't know how to behave close to a pretty girl like you."

And with that he left.

For days.

Days where you called him, desperately, breathy, over and over again. Your bedroom walls tired of the name, tired of your whimpers, your moans, your cries.

"Joel, Joel... Joel."

Some days it was the only word you'd say out loud besides 'Yeah, I'm alright. Don't need anything.'

You called, but he seemed to never listen. To never feel you call, to never come back.

You just hoped he would if you actually needed him.

✨🔥'

"Joel!"

His name, always so passionate and sweet on your lips, was now a desperate cry for help. A prayer, a beg.

His men never dared to try anything with you. They'd knock on the door and you'd answer without opening it, saying you were alright and didn't need anything. But not today. Not this one.

You screamed his name as one of his men, the biggest one that he left to keep watch on you, pinned you down on your dinner table, your hands behind your back and your face painfully pressing on the wood.

"Keep screaming, bitch. He won't fucking hear you. And no one's gonna come to help you. No one's gonna fucking dare walking inside his house." He says with a laugh. "The more you scream the longer this will last."

You keep screaming, calling for help and calling for him.

Then the man let's you go, a heavy thud following.

You turn around, finding Joel. His eyebrows low and nostrils wide, his lips pierced and his hair disheveled. He's holding a thick piece of wood.

He looks at you and his eyes soften instantly, coming towards you to cup your face. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, his eyes attentively watching your face for any bruises or scratches.

"No, no he didn't. He just walked in, I... I asked him for some things and when I opened the door he— I should've waited for him to walk away before opening the door, I'm so sorry, Joel. I'm so sorry, you told me to not do it." You cried, burying your face on his chest and blaming yourself for giving the man the opportunity to invade his house.

"Don't, hey. Don't fucking say that. You could've smiled at this piece of shit, talked to him. He shouldn't have tried anything. Shouldn't fucking hurt you like this. It's not how I fucking work around here." He says, his voice and expression darkening at the end, when he hears the man grunt under him.

He carefully lets go of you, turning to the man and grabbing him by the colar of his shirt.

None of the tenderness with which he held you left on him.

"Stay away from the windows." He tells you sternly while dragging the man on the floor.

The man's twice his size. But still he pulls him out of his house like he's nothing. Anger boiling inside him, making him straddle the man on the floor, punching his face once, twice.

Again and again.

The man is screaming, pushing him, begging him to stop, trying to get way.

But he's not himself. He is an animal, he is consumed by his darker self.

The man drags himself around on the floor and he holds him in place, punching him.

His backpack and rifle still on his back.

He could just shoot the man, but that wouldn't make it.

He had to do it. With his bare hands. He wanted to feel it, to take his life away from him.

"You like screaming, don't you, son of a bitch? Wanted to hear screams? Then fucking scream!" He shouted louder than the man, the people around him just watching.

The man's body goes limp, blood pools around them and runs on the floor, but he keeps going, until there's not a man under him anymore.

Until there's not a face, not anything but a puddle of meat, bones and blood.

He gets up, his face like you've never seen before, his eyes wide, fully black, eyebrows low, nostrils widening as he breath, his mouth open and his teeth clenched. His hand hurt, blood from the man and from himself dripping from it.

"This is not how I fucking work!" He shouts, turning around to look at everyone. "And you don't fucking fuck with what's mine!" His voice coming out as a snarl. Like a feral dog, spit flying from his mouth.

Now you see it. Now you understand.

That's why his people are so lawful.

Not only because he's brutal.

But because he's brutal to protect.

The ones that don't respect or trust him, fear him. They know what he's capable of.

He killed a man twice his size with his bare hands to keep you safe.

He killed a man he probably trusted, considering he trusted you to him. All to keep you safe.

And you loved it.

You loved it and part of you wants to see it again. To see him act so brainless, to kill a man like it's nothing. All to keep you safe.

To hear him call you his.

He sees you through the window and worry invades his face, making him rush back inside. His heavy and loud footsteps sending chills down your spine.

He finds you by the window and stops on his feet. Your eyes are wide and scared, your chest raising and falling with force.

"I told you not to look out the window." He says.

This.

This is what he never wanted.

He never wanted you to see this part of him. The part he knew would push you away, would make you never want to see him again.

Would make you afraid of him.

He holds his hand up in front of him, letting go of his backpack and rifle. "I'm sorry. None of this should've happened. I shouldn't have left you here alone, with these men. This was why I kept you here, with me, so they wouldn't hurt you." He says. "I'm sorry you had to see it, I couldn't let him go any other way."

This.

This is what you wanted to see. Him feral, protective, caring for you.

Keeping you safe.

You run to his arms, climbing on him. Your lips looking for and crashing against his.

It takes him a second, but when he realizes what's happening, he groans and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and close to him. Like he's afraid you'd snap out of it and push him away.

You lick between his lips, right where they meet, and he grunts, opening his mouth for you, taking your tongue in his and letting you explore his mouth before pushing his tongue inside your mouth and rolling it around yours. His beard scraping your cheeks, making you moan and press yourself further onto him.

Wanting to finally feel all of him.

Your arms are tugging and squeezing around his torso and his arms, sometimes pulling on his hair and earning grunts from him. His arms are pressing you against him, his heart beating against your chest. He squeezes your waist and your hips, firmly holding the back of your neck and your cheeks.

Your hands not satisfied with touching just one place at once. All the desire and hunger emerging to your surfaces.

You stay tangled like that for what feels like hours before he pulls away, out of breath, staring at you.

"I loved watching. You were so... Brutal. I loved it." You say as his eyes roam around your face.

"You don't have to do this." He whispers, giving you a final chance to step away and not regret this later. "I want this, Joel. It's all I think about. You. Called you everyday, every night, since you left. Couldn't finish sometimes without you with me. And when I did it was for you, all thinking about you." You say, snuggling your face on his neck, pressing your nose against his vein.

"I need you, Joel. Please."

He's gone.

He did his best to avoid it, to please himself with you without actually touching you. But he can't deny what he craves since he first saw you.

"You beg so nice, baby. Should make you do it more often." He says right on your ear, making you shiver and moan softly. Turning into a puddle under him.

He bites your neck, sucking and licking, your perfume guiding him, making him want to crawl under your skin, to merge his body with yours.

You're drowning on him, dazed and high, indulging on the way he holds you, grunts against your skin and how open your whole body is for him.

But when you're starting to fully get lost...

He pulls away.

"My room. C'mon." He pants, turning and pushing you towards the stairs. You giggle and run upstairs, him laughing and following close to you, his long steps enough to not let you get too far.

When you reach his bedroom, he grabs the back of your shirt, turning you around and taking you in his arms, his mouth all over your jaw, neck and collarbones. "Please, Joel. I need more of you."

"Always so impatient, baby." He says before pulling your shirt out of you and skillfully unclasping your bra. He stares at your boobs for a second, his mouth hanging open while he breaths heavily. He grabs them, kneading them and grunting. He squeezes them a bit too hard and you whimper.

He groans and takes you back in his arms, still squeezing your boobs and kissing you again.

He tastes like cheap alcohol and cigars, and you drink every drop of him like he's the thing you needed all along.

You could live off of just him. Just looking at him, just smelling him, just eating and drinking from him.

Your hand goes to his belt, but he pushes it away. "I ain't tasted you yet, baby. Not fair that you get it again." He says, pushing you on his bed.

You fall and start removing your skirt. He helps you and falls down to his knees, kissing a path from your bellybutton to your lips. "Can't wait to taste you baby. Know you taste so good for me." He whispers while kissing your throat before kissing his way back down, stopping only at your nipples to suck and roll his tongue around them.

He stops when he reaches your mount, going to your inner thighs, his hands keeping you spread, squeezing the skin of your thighs. "Always on my fucking way." He growls at your panties, roughly pulling them out of you.

Then he gets paralyzed. His gaze never leaving your pussy, his mouth open, his jaws moving from side to side.

"Joel, please." You beg and he hums against your skin. "Right here, baby. Won't go anywhere." He says right before licking a — painfully slow and strong — streak up your folds. From your entrance to where they connect at he top.

"As good as I dreamed." He licks you again, returning to your entrance and inserting his tongue on you, rolling it around inside you, making you sink yourself down on his face. "Even better, actually." He sucks on your clit, humming against your skin as you pull his hair.

"Want you to do it, baby." He says pulling away and grabbing your arms, sitting you up. He lays with his head on his pillow and beckons for you to come over, which you do, going for his belt again.

"No, baby. C'mon, up here." He says with a smile, and you move up higher, straddling his chest. "You know I could kill you like this, don't you?" You say, going higher and hovering above his face.

"Sweetest death a man could have in a world like this, angel." He breathes before pulling you down on him, practically french kissing your pussy, his tongue rolling around your entrance and your clit, going inside you and rolling around. Sucking, licking and even biting everything he could reach, his hands squeezing your ass, your hips and your thighs.

You pull his hair and roll your hips, sinking yourself, his eyes snap open to watch you as you moan and whimper, your whole body shaking as you feel your insides burn, ready to release what you craved to give him for so long.

"Joel." You moan, feeling yourself get closer and closer, and he groans as you grind yourself harder on him, swiping his nose and only pulling away to let him breath. But he quickly pulls you back down, sinking you on his tongue.

The closer you get to your orgasm, the further you go from reality. The deeper you dive on the man underneath you.

Hunger and desire marking the route of his tongue all over you, finding all your favorite spots.

He holds you down as he sucks on your clit, your hips rolling circles on his chin, his beard scratching your entrance, making you pull away.

He groans and sinks you back down, his hands squeezing your hips and keeping you steady as you cum, your insides convulsing around nothing, his eyes open, focused on your face as it contorts and your body tries to stay up.

He grunts as he dries you, sucking every drop out of you as your body twitches at how sensitive it feels.

He lets go of your hips and you collapse back on top of him, laying on top of his belly, breathing, your body going up and down as his own breath moves his chest up and down.

You feel high, like you're on a boat, his breath like the tide. You move up and down, slow and deep, swimming on him, in awe of the fact that this is actually happening.

You're actually with him.

He inserts a finger inside you and you feel his dick twitch inside his pants, against the back of your head.

"So fucking tight, baby. Gonna feel so good."

You try to flip around, wanting to taste him again, but he holds you by the knees and goes on top of you, kissing you again as you eagerly undo his belt and remove his pants.

He finishes them off and climbs back on top of you. You grab him and stroke him deep and slow, getting lost on how hard and thick he feels on your hands, whimpering just to imagine the stretch he'd need to go inside you.

"Think you're ready, baby? Waited for this for so fucking long." He says with his mouth glued to your throat, kissing and nibbing at your skin. "Please, Joel." You moan, fastening your movements on him.

He grunts, thrusting into your hand for a while, groaning as your other hand pulls on his hair.

He removes your hand from his length and guides it to your folds, running his tip through them a few times to gather some of your slick — and tease you.

"So nice, so wet for me. All for me." He pants before teasing your entrance with his tip, rolling it around it and thrusting it in slowly, your insides engulfing him. "So — grunts — fucking tight too." He smiles on your neck, and you lower yourself, trying to get more of him in.

"Joel, please." You cry, and he raises himself to looks at you. "Please what, baby? You keep saying it but you don't use your words."

"Fuck me, please. I need you inside me." You say with a smile, your voice a mix of arousal and almost pain. "Good." He smiles, kissing you, rolling his tongue around yours and pushing in, your legs spreading further apart in an attempt to make more room for him.

The air inside your lunges freezes, and you can't exhale while he's moving.

He goes all the way in, grunting at how good you feel around him. How warm, tight and wet you feel. How your arms held him tight on top of you, how your nails dug into his skin. Things he hadn't felt in forever.

Things he knew only you could give him.

Things he wanted only you to do.

"Doing so well, baby. Opening up for me like this." He praises when he bottoms out, giving you some time to adjust as you twitch and pulse around him.

You move your hips, and he corresponds the movement, slowly thrusting out before going all the way back in, setting a deliciously passionate pace. Slow and deep, making your insides move and readjuste to receive him.

You whimper when he supports himself on his hands, missing his weight on top of you. He starts moving faster, harder, even deeper somehow.

His eyes fixated on your breasts, on how they move with the force of his thrusts. "You like them?" You ask, keeping your voice sweet and low, and he looks at you through his lashes, his low eyebrows and his smile making his expression almost sinister.

It makes you go back to when he was on top of that man. To remember how feral he was, how violent and visceral he was. How much you want him to use that on you, to fuck you with as much voracity as he killed the man.

Thinking about it makes your pussy clench around him. Makes your eyes falter and your heart to pound faster against your ribs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, lifting yourself and holding onto him, his strong arms keeping both of you away from the mattress. You bite his neck, his pulsing vein too welcoming to deny.

"I loved watching, Joel. How you did it, how you did it with your hands. I fucking loved it." He grunts, his own orgasm feeling just a thrust away. "Being inside you makes me want to go back there and fucking kill him again, baby. You feel so good, he'd have hurt you and I don't know what I'd do if I let that happen."

You moan, his thrusts getting harder and sloppier. "But you did, Joel. You kept me safe, like you said you would. I loved it." You say between moans, the burn on your core about to snap. You reach for your clit and draw fast circles around it, almost immediately cumming around him, squeezing and almost expelling him out of you.

He grunts, your pussy milking him, making his orgasm hit him hard, probably harder than ever.

He fucks his cum inside you, rough and deep, as you fall back on the mattress and become a puddle underneath him. He holds your knees up, going even deeper and making you scream his name, the tip of his dick hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your eyes close shut and your mouth hang open.

His pace is anything but tender now. He's fully lost on how good you feel, how much he thought about you, how good it feels to finally give in, to finally be inside you, to finally claim you as his.

Another orgasm crashes over you, his name falling from your lips in a way that shows he's the first one to make you feel this, to make you feel this much. In a way that shows that he's the only one you'll ever think about, the only one you'll ever need and crave after this.

When you manage to open your eyes, you find his stare on you. His nostrils wide, his eyes dark and passionate, his teeth clenched and his neck looking like it would burst.

"Joel." You cry. "Right here, baby. Looking so pretty all dumb like this for me, just saying my name, calling me like I'm ever gonna leave your — grunts — fucking side again." He says, your belly fluttering with his words.

He flips you both around, laying on his back and holding you on top of him, your body doing it's best to not collapse over him.

"C'mon, ride it, baby. Want to see you." His words fuelling your muscles, making you roll your hips around him, gathering the conscience to move up and down.

You support yourself on his shoulders, his muscles flexing as you squeeze them. You moan when he pulls you down into a kiss, one of his hands on your hips and the other going from the back of your neck to your clit, drawing overwhelming circles around you.

"Joel, I can't." You cry out when your clit throbs on his fingers. "Course you can, angel. Do it for me, c'mon, give me another one." He asks, and you focus on him, on his muscles, his face, the way he fills you, the way his rough fingers work you, the way his hands is hurt from what he did, the way he brutally punched the man, the way he yelled, called you his.

You feel your orgasm approaching again, and your body starts to give in. But as soon as it hits you and your body softens, one of his hands leaves your hips and come for your throat, squeezing tight. Your eyes snap open, your hands holding onto his forearm.

"Joel." You whine.

"Just holding you up, baby. Just keeping you steady." He says with a smirk, your insides convulsing around him, trying to hold onto him, as if to never let him go.

It hugs him so nice, so deep and so tight, he can't help but allow his own new orgasm to hit him. He maintains his hand around your throat, but his body jerks up, and he pulls you down enough to kiss you.

He grunts as his tongue rolls around yours, his lips sucking yours, his beard burning your face.

A burn you already love.

His thrusts get rougher, deeper and faster as he empties himself inside you again, grunts and groans leaving his throat as you feel him twitch inside you.

He lets go of your neck and you fall on top of him, breathing and praying that this isn't just one of the dreams you've had with him. Praying that he's here, underneath you, still inside you, holding you around his arms, his warmth comforting your exhausted body.

You snuggle your nose on his collarbones, right on the middle of his pecks, and he strokes your hair.

"As bad as you thought?" You ask with a laugh. "Fucking devastating, baby. Don't even want to get out of you." He replies with a smile, and you clench around him, so he knows you're in no hurry to be empty again.

"Mine. My good girl, gonna be all mine. Can't wait to always find you home. Won't ever let you go." You smile, you don't wanna go anywhere.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Joel. No one else I'd rather be with." You confess, your head buried on his neck. "No one would keep me safe like you."

"Would do anything to keep you with me, baby. Anything." He says, hugging you tighter.

You hope so.

You're counting on it.

🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨

So... Did you like it? Writing the last sex scene was so hard, it always felt like there was something missing to it. But at end I was happy with it.

Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your feedback 💖

💌

@https-hann 🫶🏻

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #ghostfanwriter #pedro pascal's characters #fanfic #smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of uf hbo fanfiction #pedro pascal

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staytinyville · 10 days

Text

Stay Alive (44)

BTS poly!ot7 x Reader

Magical Creatures AU

Series Masterlist

Warnings: none

A/N NOT BETA. Y'all I am trying my best to literally finish up the last four chapters. I just want to finally finish something lmao. But Just to let you know I am so happy to reach this part and get to the ending. As well as start new fics within this world. I quite like it honestly.

There was a melancholic feeling within your chest that made you ponder about the actual aspect of the world you were in. It was beautiful–something you could only ever think of as a utopia for the world you actually came from. It was wondrous, excelled in places the human world could never reach. But just like there were people who wanted more in that world–they were much worse here.

You watched as the creatures who were able to fly travel around in the sky–dragons flapping their wings or fearies swerving their way through buildings, had you astounded. Things you thought were made believe in stories or movies were in front of your eyes. It was a childish wonder you seemed to have within you that caused those feelings.

However the more you thought about what brought you to that place made you realize that even if things were magical–it won’t stop evil from taking root. No one would ever be safe from those kinds of things.

You smiled sadly as a group of sprites began to pass the balcony patio you were waiting outside of. A tiny one stopped when they had spotted you. It grew closer to your nose, stopping right between your eyes. You flinched a bit as some of the dust that seemed to fly off it made your nose tickle. You sneezed without wanting to, blowing the sprite away a good distance.

You looked at the mad creature wide eyed, the humanoid sticking its small tongue out at you. You sighed again as it flew away to join its group once more.

“Is everything alright, Little one?” You turned around from the railing, finding Namjoon striding his way over to you.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” You smiled softly.

“I can see your head working a mile a minute.” He spoke quietly, pressing his chest to yours as he leaned in to place his forehead against you.

“Please don't shut us out.” He whispered.

“I'm not trying to. I just want to process some things.” You sighed, turning around to face the city once more.

“Can I join you?” He asked, moving to your side to take in his home.

“Always.” You leaned against his arm, allowing yourself to fall into his warmth.

He had his arms out in the open, his skin on display. Your fingers softly rubbed at his scarred skin, feeling the bumps from the cells that had healed over. You were glad to know he was no longer in pain or that his lesions were open. You figured now that he was back home his healing was much better than they were.

“It felt like just yesterday you were walking into my room to take care of me.” Namjoon began to speak.

“I remember that day because it was the day I met someone who told me for the first time in years to have a good day.” You looked up at him with furrowed eyebrows, a bit unsettled that no one had bother to do that before.

“Someone who didn't know what they had gotten themselves into but still chose to help those in need.” He turned to you, sliding his hand down your arm to hold you own.

“I'm sure lots of others tried before me.” You spoke quietly, watching as his warm fingers encased your own between his.

“But none of them were you.” Namjoon placed his forehead against yours, smiling at you as your nose bumped with his.

“You make our coven feel complete. Like everything we went through could not compare to what we would have now.”

Everything they went through? The pain, the sorrow, the idea of them having spent 10 years against their will being underground made you want to throw up. You knew there were more people out there who faced the same problems they did–magical creatures or not–but knowing it was you who brought that upon them made things worse.

Nothing would ever change what you had done–what had happened to you in the past. You had grown up innocent from what you went through, having no memory of what they had done to you. To this day you still don’t even remember, Bang telling you that while he did give you your memory back your own brain has those memories locked away for your well being.

“You shouldn't have to have felt that way though. Because of me you guys were kid—”

“Lead to you. Even if we stayed there forever we still had you.” Namjoon cut you off. “And we weren’t the only ones who went through something terrible. Even if you might never really remember what happened to you, you were on the verge of death. You could have died and we never would have met.”

“Nabi–”

“Protected you. Led you to us. Call it what you want. But you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her.” He tried to tell you.

You would never be able to know what she had been thinking since the moment she had passed. You didn’t even know what she might have been feeling at the moment–only those with magical powers could really figure it out. You wanted to have the chance to know her more. Figure her out the way you might have when you were a kid but you didn’t know how things worked in this world.

“I can't imagine you staying there for so long.” You went back to rubbing at his arm, feeling the planes of his tanned skin. “You're getting better.”

“The magic in our home helps us heal better. Hobi has been helping with our physical wounds and learning more.” Namjoon explained, a smile slipping onto his lips. “It's what we have to do to prepare ourselves for the fight. Hanseol has an army behind him now. Especially with Kang on his side. But we have to try and save everyone.”

You began to frown again, thinking about having the boys go back to that place all over again. There was something in the back of your mind telling you it was the right thing to do. All those children who were taken from their home at a young age and the older people who were taken from their families.

You wanted to stop them–you tried to. But you knew who they were and what they wanted to do from the beginning. As Namjoon said, you were the reason he found hope again. The reason they all did. So who were you to take it away from them to continue hoping for a better future for everyone they had come to care for in that facility.

“Namjoon?” The both of you turned, finding Yoongi waiting at the door of the patio.

“There you are, Princess.” He smiled softly, gums on display as he grew closer to the two of you.

“Everything okay?” He asked you, placing a hand on your cheek to pull you into him.

You gave him a smile, pulling your lips in for a small kiss. “Yeah. I'm fine, Yoongi.”

“Everyone is waiting for us. Let's head inside.” He spoke up when he pulled back, looking up at Namjoon who gave him a nod in understandment.

All the other boys were waiting for you in the meeting room along with your grandfather. When you entered you gave the younger boys a smile, feeling content with the way they huddled around you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you sure you boys are ready to go back? We can always send someone else.” Bang questioned.

“We were there the longest even if we weren't the oldest. The only reason we made it out was because of (Y/N).” Seokjin answered.

“It could've been anyone.” You muttered to yourself, trying to make yourself feel better about the kind of staff Hanseol had in his personnel to not want to take the people out of there.

“Besides, we're the only ones who know that facility inside and out. You'll have a better chance with us joining.” Hobi added, crossing his arms.

There was a sudden knock coming from the door which made all of you turn.

“Come in.” Bang called out.

You watched as the four Valkyries from Jin’s home walked into the room along with the swan maiden, IU. It seemed there was more people coming in behind them as well as more and more people shuffled in to fit in the large boardroom.

“Are we late to the meeting?” Wheein smiled brightly.

“We heard there was going to be a fight. We'd like to join in on the fun.” Solar laughed, smiling as all four of the valkyries stood with smirks.

“Count my boys in as well.” A man with a deep voice called out, arms crossed as a group of 12 other men followed behind into the boardroom.

“Seungcheol.” Namjoon began to grin, taking in the small army that had formed ready for orders.

The leader of BTS walked up to the man, pulling him into a hug as the clapped each other on the back.

“Mingyu told me about your return.” Seungcheol smiled, patting Namjoon on the back. “It's a great thing to see you home. As for the fight, there's more than enough of us.”

He turned to look at his boys, all ranging in different species from what you could tell. You weren’t able to determine much of who they were but you knew they had a faerie in their midst and some kind of animal that had cat like ears. You spotted the boy who was close friends with Jungkook, allowing the boy to let go of you as he seemed to get into a tussle with the other one again.

You began to laugh as the way everyone seemed to be relaxed but ready to fight at a moments notice. You were glad people like them were willing to go to the trouble of bringing the others back. It didn’t make you worry any less about your boys but you knew they had others who were going to help them.

Bang stood from his chair. “Then let's start prepping. The faster we save everyone the faster we can bring them back home.”

Series Masterlist

@h3arteyes4mingi , @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @rinkund, @rln-byg , @singukieee , @hoshi-is-ult-bbg , @ldysmfrst , @juju-227592 , @alienchickenpoop , @dreamerwasfound , @afangirl91 , @psiphidragon , @puppyminnnie , @shyloh-the-cornsnake , @ollyoxenfrees , @whynotlarene , @beeltsumu , @cryingpages , @milopenne , @belikejk , @thatonedemigodfromseoul , @woozixo,

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kisstuals · 1 year

Text

if blue could be happiness

PAIRING. na jaemin x female!reader WORD COUNT. 2.4k CONTAINS. angst, romance, actor!au WARNINGS. implied smut, just the reader being sad and in her head a lot, pretty reflective and retrospective, not much plot more emotions and vibes PLAYLIST. if blue could be happiness - florist | never goodbye - nct dream | liability - lorde NOTE. turns out i love complex female characters and depressing stories and men who fall harder… who is sensing a theme in my works? also im kinda back hahahaha hope everyone has been well xx. i’d say i’ll be more active now but i have a bad track record. that being said, please do give this some love and interact and let me know ur thoughts bc that will motivate me to be more active and post more things!!! would love to chat with you all <3

All you have ever known is being alone, so you can’t help but pull away when Jaemin comes into your life. Too bad he’s here to stay.

NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE TRAVELING, there is a wave of relief that hits you when the plane finally makes its descent in New York City. The tall buildings shimmer against the twilight sky, and even from so far away, you can sense the hustle and bustle of the always-busy city. You can imagine people getting off work after staying late, going into bars for happy hour. They laugh and giggle with their friends with a drink in their hands. New York City is always alive, and that’s why you love being there, as the fervor and excitement almost allows you to forget about how empty you feel all the time.

Despite that, there is a blue stillness around. A cloud of comfort, broken by a brief anticipation.

Your fingers curl around your seatbelt, waiting for the indication that you could finally take it off and leave the plane. It had been a month since you were last home, as you had been in Paris for the shoot of your upcoming movie. There is no doubt that your time there had been lovely, for you participated in every cliche there was for a Parisian tourist… eating too many croissants every day, visiting the Eiffel Tower, getting lost in the Louvre. The actual work you had gone to Paris for also concluded smoothly, but film shoots were never a problem for someone like you who actually enjoys their job.

None of that mattered though. You were aching to finally be home. It’s difficult to ignore your heart that is practically beating out of your chest, but that may be for reasons other than simply arriving back in your favorite city.

Reasons that are called Na Jaemin.

You wonder if he thought about you nearly as much as you did over the past month. And why would you, consider that you were the one who pushed him away. But you keep on wondering this as you leave the plane. He plagues your mind at the baggage claim, when you get into the car waiting for you, and the entire ride home. The buzz of your phone on the leather seat next to you is the only thing that pulls you out of your daze, eyes blindly following whatever buildings you could see in the distance. It was getting late, but New York never slept.

It buzzes again, and you finally blink before reaching for your phone. It’s a text from your sister, who had been house-sitting for you (or, more of an excuse to hang out in the city).

sister: he just showed up.

Your eyebrows furrow. The texts keep coming in

sister: (name). sister: JAEMIN IS HERE sister: when are you getting back?

Movements growing frantic, you quickly look outside for a landmark, realizing you were still pretty far from your apartment. And with the city traffic, it would at least be another hour.

you: WDYM HE’S HERE? you: i won’t be home for a while you: tell him to go wait in my room

She sends you a thumbs up and you sigh, leaning back into your seat to close your eyes in hopes of getting some rest. Your efforts prove to be futile, of course, because he’s all you can think about.

The first time you met him, you were drunk out of your mind. It was Ryujin’s party for actors to gather and mingle if you remembered correctly, but truthfully your memories of that night were pretty foggy. Everyone was dressed nicely and there was expensive liquor lining the countertops, but you ungracefully stumbled into Jaemin, a new and rising actor whose name was everywhere on the tabloids, in a corner somewhere. See, you were normally always on your best behavior, with perfectly styled hair, manicured nails, and hands folded politely. You never tripped over your own feet. You never spoke out of turn. You never did what you weren’t supposed to do, which was a long list considering you were an A-list actress with an image pristine like glass. People looked up to you.

So you had really no explanation for how Jaemin’s hands ended up around your waist, his lips chasing your own. Your body was hot against his, aching for his touch, and when you finally gave in, there was no stopping either of you. His lips moved ferociously against yours, lighting your skin on fire wherever they touched you.

It was no surprise you ended up in his bed later that night, but it was equally less of a surprise that you left the next morning before he could even wake up.

Yet, that was only the beginning. You seemed to run into him everywhere. At parties of mutual friends, you didn’t even realize you shared. At dress fittings, because the stylist for your next movie also happened to be his personal stylist. At the new coffee shop you decided to try out, and then realized was his favorite.

Suddenly, you couldn’t run away anymore. He was going to be in your life, whether you willed for it or not, so you entertained it for a brief minute. So you kissed him at parties and showed up at dress fittings with your hand in his. Every Sunday, you went to his favorite coffee shop together. You went to sleep in his bed and woke up in his arms. His name was linked to yours, and everyone talked about it, but you didn’t care. You had relinquished all control of your life.

It was great, until it wasn’t. Until he got too close, and you went too far.

That night, there was a downpour in New York City and you retreated back into the comforts of your home. Of the perfect, orderly life you built for yourself.

And the next morning, you left for Paris.

There is a tremble in your fingers as you enter the code to your apartment. Why was he here? You pushed him away, and then he was meant to stay away. People don’t usually try so hard to remain in your life. Probably because of how distant you keep your heart from them. Or maybe that’s why you began doing it in the first place. It’s been so long, you cannot even remember what came first.

Your sister greets you with a worried smile as you enter. She takes your coat from you and you take a moment to set down your belongings, including the large suitcase you had been hauling behind you. The longer you take to go into your room, the longer you have to prepare for whatever is about to happen.

“(Name). He’s been waiting.” Your sister says, looking pointedly at your room door. You’ve dug your toes so far into black boots that you are afraid they may appear at the other end. There is a fleeting touch of comfort on your shoulder before she walks away. With a sigh, you take off your shoes and arrange them neatly on the shoe rack.

In an apartment as big as yours, the walk to your room is shorter than you remember, but you know you cannot delay this any further. Jaemin is definitely aware of your presence, no matter how softly your clothed feet hit the wooden floor of your apartment, so you finally open the door.

Your heart stills when you see him. He’s sitting at the foot of your bed, wearing a fluffy brown jacket and a hat to match. It’s pretty obvious how he looks out of place against your cold, blue walls.

“Hi.” His smile is cautious like you might run away upon seeing him. His worries are not entirely absurd though, as you do consider backing away. But his eyes are warm, and you remember how much you are aching for his touch. You can’t help but take another step towards him.

“Hi.” Your voice cracks and he notices, but you both choose to ignore it.

“How was Paris?”

“It was good.” The temperature of your room must be near freezing, but somehow your words are colder. Jaemin winces, subtle yet noticeable, and stands up, rubbing his hands on his jeans. You pray that he doesn’t move any closer to you, as then you might actually run away, and somehow, he listens.

The heart is a silly little thing, because you find yourself disappointed at the distance between Jaemin and you, even though this ruin was your doing.

“(Name)...” You’re not sure what he’s going to say, but the deep breath he takes before speaking lets you know that you are not ready to hear it. Not yet.

“Sorry for making you wait. Got stuck in traffic.” You begin moving around the room to straighten up a few things that suddenly looked out of order, even though no one had entered your room while you were gone.

“Oh, uh, it’s okay.” His gaze follows your every move. “I hope your sister wasn’t uncomfortable with me just showing up.”

“No, not uncomfortable. Just surprised that you’re here.” Arranging your lipsticks from the darkest red to the lightest nude seemed like the perfect task at this moment, so you stand in the corner of your room farthest from Jaemin, hovering over your vanity.

He sighs. “Me too.”

This makes you glance back at him, eyebrows raised. “You are… also surprised that you’re here?”

“Yeah, considering how you just left me, why would I want to be here?” Jaemin is always honest, and you appreciate him for that, but you can’t ignore the guilt that pools in your stomach as you finally meet his eyes.

Your lips purse, and if you’re feeling anything, you don’t let it show. “Why are you here, then?”

This is the question that ultimately pushes him over the edge. Jaemin’s expression darkens as he finally closes the distance between you two, stopping just close enough so you could feel his breath against yours.

“You’re seriously asking me this? After everything?” He asks incredulously, his eyes searching for answers in your own

“I told you it was over.”

“Okay, but why?” You don’t answer, but you also don’t step away. “What are you afraid of?” Your lip quivers.

“Stop,” you whisper, as you feel your resolve starting to break. Jaemin takes a step back but keeps going.

“That I’ll break your heart? That I’ll leave you and go away?” He lets out an empty, pained laugh. “Well, isn’t that what you’ve done?”

“Jaemin, I–” You begin to speak, but now it’s his turn to cut you off.

“But despite all that, I still love you.” Your eyes widen, and an unknown, indescribable feeling overtakes your entire being. A single tear escapes you, of guilt, and fear, of love and longing.

The room is silent for a minute, and then another.

You are unsure of what the proper response to his confession should be, but whatever it is, you have messed it up already by waiting so long. You owe him an answer, because of everything you’ve put him through. Because you walked into his life, and then walked out, doing it first as you were afraid he would soon enough. But above all, because you loved him too, despite everything you had tried to convince yourself of.

“I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure how to put all your thoughts in words, so you decide to apologize first, instead. And even though it may be a deflection, you hope he realizes that it’s sincere.

But there’s disbelief in his eyes, and you hate that he doubts you, even though you’ve given him every reason to. “That’s it?”

“You’re right. I left because I wanted to do it before you could.” You continue, providing him with the honesty he deserved from day one. “I was so sure you would, because people always leave anyway, you know? They come into my life, I get used to them, then they leave, and I have to get used to life without them. There’s only so many times you can do that before you simply cannot anymore.”

Jaemin’s expression is unreadable as he considers what you said. “So, the solution was to push me away, even though I told you I wasn’t going anywhere that night?” Now his tone is neutral, and you are unable to figure out if he is mad, upset, or disappointed by your explanation.

“Do you know how many times I’ve been told that?”

You had always known that the film world was a lonely one. Your dad was a producer and your mom was an actress. They fell in love when they were twenty and fell out of love when they were twenty-five, with affairs and scandals galore. That left you and your sister, mere toddlers, stuck in the middle, as they threatened to leave each other. Eventually, they just left you. Despite all that, you chose to go down the same path, as the film world was the only world you knew. And then you went through it all over it again, as friends, boyfriends, managers, and mentors all came into your life, only to leave again. The only person who had stuck around was your sister, but because she had to.

Jaemin was the first person who ever wanted to be in your life, by choice.

“I should’ve been more clear then. If I had told you I loved you that night, would you have stayed?” He asks, his voice breaking.

“I don’t think anything would’ve stopped me that night,” you say quietly, remembering how quickly you booked a flight to Paris, and leaving one week earlier than you were originally supposed to for your shoot.

“And how about now?”

You look into Jaemin’s eyes and see only a love for yourself, despite everything, just as he said. And in that moment, the heaviness that you had been carrying around in your heart for as long as you can remember finally settles.

“I want to stay.” You admit.

“So what’s stopping you?”

The question that has plagued you forever now rises to your lips, in a bout of vulnerability you never saw for yourself. “Please don’t leave me.”

At that, Jaemin is immediately reaching for you, the touch that you had yearned for finally engulfing you. He gently cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m here, aren’t I? And, I always will be. I won’t give up on us.” You nod, and return his touch, tugging on the collar of his jacket to pull him closer. “And if you leave, I’ll come after you, again and again, like I did today. I just needed to know that you want this as much as I do.”

“I love you.”

And then you kiss him like you never have before, like blue water in the forests of love. Because if blue could be happiness, that is all you ever want.

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avocado-writing · 10 months

Text

notes: this turned into a much longer, story-based fic lol. cw for depression. not mentioned: you & aziraphale building a little sandcastle while crowley drinks a margarita. also crowley switches to fem presenting in this fic

pairing: crowley x gn!reader x aziraphale

words: 2.1k

rating: E (smut at the end, minors dni)

Crowley, there’s a problem. Come over as soon as you can. - Aziraphale

Angel, you don’t need to sign your texts off. I know it’s you.

Usually when he gets these messages it’s because Aziraphale has run out of milk, or there’s a spider in the bookshop. So Crowley doesn’t worry. That’s until he actually turns up and finds Aziraphale staring at the CD rack you put up in the back room, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“The Tracy Chapman album is gone,” Aziraphale sighs. Crowley glances over to the calendar hung up on the wall. It’s got pictures of kittens on it. But that’s not what makes him groan, no; it’s when he realises the date.

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t realise that had sneaked up on us.”

It happens once a year, inevitably. Even when you try to forget it the bloody thing is seared in your mind. It’s almost the anniversary of the day you didn’t die.

You insist you aren’t sad about it. You insist. But, once when you were very drunk, they got it out of you that for a little while you always feel like you’re mourning. You’re happy with your life how it is now, overjoyed even; and you wouldn’t trade your marriage for anything… but you’re still reminded of the human you couldn’t be. The natural life you never got to live. The children you never had. The family you had to abandon when your death didn’t take.

Because when it boils down to it you’re not quite human. You’re different. And though Crowley and Aziraphale may not be aligned with their sides any more there are other angels and demons. But there is only one of you.

And it can get very lonely to think that way.

So every year you sequester yourself off in your bedroom at your house — since 1988 it’s been with that bloody Chapman CD — and the person they love disappears into a little mist of sadness until you’re ready to be with the world again.

Crowley slams his hand onto the table, making his husband jump. No. Not this time. They won’t stand to see you like this for another year.

“I have an idea,” he says, and Aziraphale raises his eyebrows.

Your house is in quite a nice area of London, plenty of room for three people, but right now you’re sitting in the bedroom all alone. (Of course you have a house. You love your other halves dearly but personal space is a requirement, not a request. Besides you’ve picked up a load of tat over the years you’ve been alive and it’s not fair to make one of them keep it for you). You’ve not seen them for a few days, and that’s fine. You like to marinate in your own misery. Crowley once said people must enjoy feeling sad or bands like the Smiths wouldn’t exist. You couldn’t fault him.

There’s a knock at your door. Figuring it’s the postie, you drag yourself from your spot in the middle of the bed and wipe the tears from your eyes with your sleeve. You’re a little surprised to find Crowley and Aziraphale standing there, but open the door for them anyway.

“I’ll stick the kettle on,” you mutter as a greeting. They exchange a look as you shuffle into the kitchen. Before you can even begin to get the mugs out, you’re manoeuvred into a chair and your husbands plonk down in front of you.

“What—”

“Nightingale, we know you’ve been struggling.”

You deflate under their dual looks of concern, and bury your face in your hands.

“Sorry.”

You suddenly feel very, very small; but you realise they’re taking your arms and pulling your hands away.

“There’s nothing to apologise for, my dear. We understand. It’s just that we were thinking, we should all go on a little holiday.”

Cautiously you look up.

“A little holiday?”

Aziraphale doesn’t do ‘little’. That word simply disguises self-indulgence. “Do you fancy a little treat?” (I saw a whole wedding cake in a bakery shop window and immediately bought it, fancy going halves with me?) or “I’m going to take a little nap…” (time to curl up on the sofa in front of Bake-Off reruns and fall asleep for four days straight) are the examples that spring to mind.

So a ‘little’ holiday might not be so little at all.

“Look, we wrote down all of your favourite places and put them into a hat. You just reach in, pick one, and we’ll go.”

They’d spent a solid two hours deciding what made the cut. Edinburgh, obviously. Stockholm. Verona. (You might have had a problem with the Roman Empire, but you can appreciate that nowadays Italy has some of the best food in the world).

Aziraphale holds out a reporter’s trilby full of tiny white strips of paper, shaking it enthusiastically. Their eyes are wide and full of love. Gingerly you reach out, rustle around in the hat, and pull a single slip. They watch you intently as you unfold it, read it, and widen your eyes.

You hold it up, and excitement crosses your face for the first time that day.

“Isle of Wight.”

“Isle of Wight?” Crowley repeats. He doesn’t remember putting that one in there and, from the look on his face, neither does Aziraphale. But no, of course - you love that place. The three of you had spent a summer there back in the nineteen-twenties, when you had gone through your fossil phase. You’d spent hours on the beach searching through rocks for ammonites and genuinely enjoying every moment.

Plus, with that look on your face, they can hardly say no.

“Isle of Wight then,” Aziraphale says, smiling.

They help you pack and book the ferry that evening, Crowley making short work of the drive down to the docks. On the journey you’re still a little bit quiet, but when you ask, “can I put on Tracy Ch—” Crowley shouts “No!”, reaches into the glove box to pull out the CD the Bentley manifested to try and please you, and flings it out of the window on the motorway.

It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh. As a compromise Crowley stuffs Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours into the system so roughly he threatens to break it in half.

Apart from that the drive is filled with happy chatter. And so is the whole holiday, really. They’ve booked a little seaside cottage to stay in, very sheltered and alone so there are no prying eyes on the three of you. That first night you’re too knackered to do much but curl up and fall asleep, but the next day you go into full tourist mode. Shorts, shirt, big hat and glasses. Aziraphale rubs sunblock on your back in the areas you can’t reach — as luckily the three of you have planned your excursion for the four and a half days that constitute British summertime — and you set out.

And, really, it’s lovely. You go to the little attractions, play mini golf, pretend not to be annoyed when they miracle their shots to hit better (though you still win, their divine magic isn’t a patch on talent). You get a huge ice cream which drips down your hand in the heat. You watch Crowley spend twenty-seven pounds on a claw machine trying to win you and Aziraphale a teddy each “the old fashioned way”, but finally get irritated enough to click his fingers to make it malfunction. Soft toys are spat out of it like bullets to the glee of the gathered children.

When you arrive back at the cottage they insist they cook, and even though you offer to help you’re told to go and spend the time looking for fossils. It’s quite miraculous that the beach laid out before your front door is suddenly full of them. It’s equal parts sandy and stony and you busy yourself for the next hour, every now and then a cry of “look what I’ve found!” being shouted over the sound of the waves.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look and silently agree what they’ve never worded: they’ve married a history nerd.

It’s still hot as the sun sets and they lay out a little picnic on the soft part of the beach. You’ve changed into swimwear and so have they, and it’s one of those moments when you realise just how different your spouses are. Crowley has her long and hair down, slim body feminine so she can wear a tiny black bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. Aziraphale is wearing a full striped bathing suit that you last saw popularised when Queen Victoria was still on the throne.

You love them both so much.

Crowley pours the wine and you spend the evening getting a rosy sort of tipsy. You eat the little smorgasbord they’ve laid out in front of you, and as midnight turns to one in the morning, you totally forget the fact that it’s your would-be-death day at all.

You stand up on unsteady legs and look at the ocean. It’s still unbearably warm.

“Nightingale?” Crowley asks. You turn to your spouses and make a show of stripping off, leaving your swimsuit on the sand.

“I’m going for a swim. Are you coming?”

Crowley needs no convincing, her tiny bikini quickly joining the pile of clothes. You take her hand and rush into the waves, laughing wildly as the water sprays your skin.

“Angel!” Crowley shouts over her shoulder. Aziraphale hesitates for the tiniest moment.

“Come on angel, nobody can see us.”

Aziraphale loses a battle against himself, finishes his slice of cake and starts to undress too. Soon he’s joined you and your wife in the water. The two of you pull him close.

“See? Isn’t it nice?” you hum into his ear. His hand skips your bare waist, his breath hitches. You giggle and float backwards on the water, skyclad to the stars above. Crowley keeps a hold of your hand to make sure you don’t drift away, and you listen to the sound of the ocean in your ears while your spouses kiss behind you. You link your fingers through theirs and close your eyes, warm from the wine, and happy.

Then you splash them childishly. The noise of surprise they make is fantastic. You cackle like mad and begin to run through the water - albeit very slowly - poking your tongue out.

“Can’t catch me!” you giggle, which is a silly taunt really because Crowley is able to do so immediately with her long legs, and then she sweeps you up in a kiss.

The three of you find yourselves laying on the beach, Crowley kissing your chest and neck, Aziraphale the soft area of your upper thighs. You melt against their mouths and drag them each to your lips to kiss them properly in turn.

“Please fuck me,” you whisper, voice strung out on happiness and a little desperate. They don’t need telling twice. Crowley puts one of her beautiful legs either side of your face and you reach to taste her cunt, a heady mix of salt from the water and her own slick. She throws her head back and lets her flaming hair cascade down her back, moaning in pleasure.

“Fuck, nightingale, your mouth…”

As your tongue presses firmly against her clit you feel Aziraphale manoeuvre you into his lap, spreading your legs to find your entrance. His hands press against you as his fingers slide inside, getting you ready for his impressive girth. You moan against Crowley’s pussy as he sheathes himself slowly inside you and then giggle as the waves lap up against your body.

“Ahh,” Aziraphale breathes in pleasure, gripping your hips tightly as he begins to move. With every thrust he gives you mimic the motion onto your wife.

You know their bodies intimately. You have done for centuries. But each time you make love it still feels like your senses are being lit on fire, the best kind of fire, passion burning hot.

You love them. You love them so much it hurts, and you let this tumble from your lips as you feel them come, and topple over the edge with them.

That night they hold you close, sandwiched, one of your favourite ways to sleep. Aziraphale tucks his face into your shoulder and Crowley buries his mouth into your hair, giving you a permanent kiss while you drift off.

You’ve not felt so light in ages.

When you get home, you decide, you’re smashing that CD with a hammer. You’ve got everything you need to feel better right here in your arms.

Taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul @foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie

#crowley x reader x aziraphale #good omens x reader #ineffable husbands x reader #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #request #Also this says IoW but could literally be any English seaside town

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