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flashbangstars · 7 months

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Monday Miscommunications N.J.M

Pairing. Jaemin x Female reader 18+ wc: 2021

Summary. I really liked writing the roommate series so I decided to try and write a extended/expand upon the original post. Basically you are Jaemin's roommate and you two and he's insufferable and sexy. brain rot from domestic roommate Jaemin.

Genre. Suggestive, ready and Jaemin get a bit hot and heavy... in a video game chair. fluff/suggestive

Warnings: mentions of violence in a joking manner, suggestive

I went a little haywire with the elipses in this so ignore that.

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You two were about 7 months deep and you swear you got more confused with him the more time you spent together. Given the fact he lived next door to you all last year, it was confusing that he was the same person who would greet you in the morning.

Things were weirdly coming to a peak as of late, He had been extremely touchy MORE than usual, and was spending way more time in the apartment than he usually would. He now opted for his friends to come over instead of him going to them, and he was now making an effort to introduce you to them when they were over . This afternoon was no different.

You opened the door to the apartment and dropped the keys into the bowl. Feet dragging, eyes sagging today fucking sucked. You had dropped your phone the screen had shattered and your computer died during a three-hour lecture… 45 minutes in, you needed either alcohol or for someone to take you out of your misery at this point.

Standing in the kitchen you rested your head on the counter and closed your eyes. The cold surface pressed against your forehead and the heating in the apartment lowly humming. You needed to eat something and then pass out.

The door opened and you heard a second set of keys being dropped into the bowl. Lifting your head from the counter and turning, there was Jaemin walking in, kitten sweats and bucket hat in all their glory.

“Hey! Oh!..you look like shit,” he said with that pretty smile and pretty teeth.. bastard.

“Fuck you” you mutter dropping your head back to the counter. You hear his bag drop to the floor and his shoes get kicked off to the side, the Converse with the backs of them folded in because for some reason he doesn’t like to put his shoes on.

His socked feet pad across the wood floor and stop next to you in the kitchen, you watch as his feet inch closer to you and then you feel an arm lay across your back, and then a hand settle on your waist.

“I’m sorry baby, did something happen today?” Jaemin coos in a higher-pitched-up voice. Despite the day being so unbelievably shitty, the only thing you were able to think about was; the multiple bright red flags going off as to what just happened in this right here kitchen.

His hand was burning fucking hot on your side (not really you’re just insane!) and the proximity was something that wasn’t normally common for your dynamic, was he a freak? Yes! But this was a bit much. You didn’t know whether the right thing to do was to now stand up, or to stay in this position because you were tired, and a little coddling never hurt anyone. You decided with the first because you're a grown-ass woman who didn’t need any man and you stood up and blinked a couple of times refusing to turn to face Jaemin.

Now standing though, the closeness of you two was a lot more apparent, his hip was touching yours and his hand stayed behind you. He tilted his head in front of you to catch your eyesight and asked again if you were okay.

“I’m fine today was just a lot, I just need it to be over haha” Did you just verbALLY say HAHA?

Turning around so your butt pressed against the edge of the counter you started rubbing your hands on your face out of exasperation. Missing the movement from your side. Opening your eyes to Jaemin having moved to be standing right in front of you with both hands on the counter behind you.

Oh honey, what is this!?

He stared this time into your eyes and you could feel the slight blush coming up from your neck and you forced yourself to make eye contact with him. “Well if you need anything please let me know, I’m sorry you had such a bad day,” he said in a grossly endearing tone (you thought that shit was hot) and then stood up, patted your hip, and walked to his room. He is so mistaken if he thinks you won’t get on your knees in this damn kitchen! Jesus Christ DECORum!

Now you weren’t even upset about your day, you were upset about whatever the fuck that was. Jaemin and you had known each other for 2 years now and you had never gotten the vibe he wanted to fuck you? But this now domesticity and nurturing agenda he had was fucking with your head and your vagina. Who just casually acts like that? OUT OF NO WHERE?? You stood in the kitchen, and then consequently decided to not stand on business. Marching your way down the hallway to Jaemin’s room Opening the door, Jaemin was sat at his Gamer ass desk set up. Upon hearing you enter the chair swiveled around, and Jaemin smiled widely seeing you.

“Hi sweetheart, what do you need?” He asked uncrossing his legs. Sweetheart?!?? You walked closer and stood crossing your arms “Can you explain what happened in the kitchen just now?” You huffed leaning in and pushing your index finger into his chest disapprovingly. His eyes searched yours and then morphed into a devious look. Before you could lean back both of his arms shot out, grabbing your waist. Spinning you and placing you back down in his lap. HUHHHHH???

“I was just making sure you were okay! It makes me feel terrible when you look so upset. If you want something to do, I’m setting up my online calendar and you can just sit here and look pretty while I do so!” he said in a sweet but fast voice, not letting you get a single word in, He spun the chair again and pushed you both into the desk.

You felt the redness creeping up your neck, and your face was burning hot. I think… I think he’s going insane… that is the only answer to this. Using your brute woman strength, you put your arms out and pushed both away from the desk.

Not yet leaving his lap due to the one arm swung around your waist (and also like it was comfy, sue me!). You angle your head and slowly turn to face him.

“Did you hit your fucking head or something, cause what the fuck is this?” you say grabbing his wrist off your waist. You say a little bit more annoyed this time. Jaemin’s demeanor faltered for a split second, his eyebrows falling into a pout for a millisecond, but returning to the very toothy smile Inching closer to your face “Well a little birdie told me that you had been talking about your hot roommate, and how never would think he would go after someone like you” Jaemin taunted a bit, his voice lilting towards the end of the sentence in a faux pout.

Suddenly like That’s So Raven it all hit you, the conversation you had with Jisung on the bus about your little crush on Jaemin was replaying on loudspeakers in the theater of your mind. You had mentioned how you found Jaemin very attractive but could never see him going for someone like you due to his track record.

Determined to not lose to Jaemin in whatever battle of strength this was, you relaxed a bit “Oh well now I have to kill Jisung I guess” you said keeping eye contact with Jaemin. Despite your efforts to come out victorious, folding immediately as a hand comes up and brushes your hair behind your ear making you tense up again.

“And you didn’t even try to deny it,” he said with a smug look. …. Well damn.

“ Wish you would’ve said something, do you know how hard it is to live with someone like you? Smart, Pretty, determined to be oblivious to every single move I try to make” Now you two were an inch away from each other's face

“I…am not… oblivious,” you say your voice raised a bit above a whisper in protest of his claims on your character. Your hands were probably shaking now, and in any minute You think you were going to explode probably if this continued for I don’t know, maybe 5 seconds more.

“Yes, you are. You know people ask if we are dating? Jeno and Jisung have been making fun of me because no matter how hard I’ve tried to get you to notice, you just don’t, But now I get home and treat you extra nice, and all of sudden you are sitting in my lap so what am I suppose to think?” Jaemin said lowly his voice rasping from beside you, but to you, it sounded like he was screaming straight into your clit. Your awareness of your position in his lap feels like a bucket of ice water.

Staring at him you tried to collect your thoughts as to what would be your next move. On one hand, you could engage with the enemy and follow through with the sinful acts he is proposing. Or you could stand up and walk away and laugh about this whole thing tomorrow!

But like… what fun would that be?

Mustering up the strength, you relaxed a bit into his hold and let your weight rest against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t notice,” you said shrugging. Jaemin tightened his hold once he felt you relax and his fingers were now pressing into the soft flesh of your side, slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt.

“It's alright, I think we both are on the same page now, am I right princess?” Tilting his head so now you two were dangerously close to each other. Leaning in extending his eye contact to almost asking for permission, you nodded.

Jaemin pressed his lips against yours softly and his grip around you tightened even more, one of his hands moving up to tilt your chin to give him more access, parting your lips and deepening the kiss, silently thanking god you had had a piece of gum in before you got home. Your hands go up to press against his chest. His hand on your side moved up and now creeping along the hem of your bra, teasing the strap your t-shirt now shoved above your bra.

He got more intense with his movements, and you felt the arm of his desk chair pressing into the middle of your back reminding you of the situation you were in. Pushing against his chest and separating you two from each other before he succeeded in devouring you.

“It is 3 pm…. On a Monday… hold on” you said between breaths. “And…?” He asked with his annoying pretty smile.

“I need a second…” Staring blankly at you as if expecting something Jaemin didn’t move “I like you…I promise..I just need to go uh… send Jisung a death threat and maybe a thank you card and go and scream into my pillow, then we can continue this..on the bed.. hopefully,” you promise nodding your head surely at the end of your sentence.

Standing up and straightening out your pants… and… pulling your shirt back down over your boobs. You bowed a bit and left his room. WHY DID YOU BOW? You heard a soft laugh come from the same video game chair you had just been almost fucked on and didn’t dare to turn around again. Going straight down the hallway to your room.

Thank you for reading! if you guys are interested in more of these from the roommate series pls let me know!

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writemywaytoyourheart · 2 years

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Bedeviled | Chapter 7: Adamantine

Pairing: demon!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, drama, angst, horror

WC: 8.6k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, anxiety, mentions of a night terror, cruelty, physical violence, gore, blood, fear, frightening depictions of Hell and people in it, hopelessness, some tEnsiOn, pls kindly let me know if there's anything I missed. this chapter could be disturbing for some readers, pls read at your own discretion.

When you open your eyes, it's a little disorienting to see that the sky hasn't lightened any.

If anything, it's gotten even darker. You're not sure how long you were asleep. It doesn't really matter though, because no matter how much sleep you get, the exhaustion that has seeped into your bones won't be lessened.

Not until you leave this place.

"Give that Flame to your stupid little bastard friend, your ass is never leaving this place. Glad you finally figured that out."

You put your hands over your eyes, still lying on the ground. After a moment, you rub your eyes, then uncover your face.

The first thing you notice is that the fire is no longer there.

That might explain why it feels darker than it did when you fell asleep.

The second thing you notice is that the rock he was lying on is empty. A quick glance around shows that he is, in fact, gone.

You sigh and rub the back of your neck as you sit up and look around once more.

Your left wrist is starting to throb again, the bottoms of your feet already feeling swollen and tender even while you were asleep.

Curling up and tucking your face into your knees, you try to conjure up the dream you were having, before it had turned into a hellish nightmare and woke you up.

You were in the old swing; Tae was pushing you gently as you looked up through the tops of the trees. It lasted for quite a while.

You and Taehyung were whispering and laughing about whatever the newest gossip in the village was that day. You met Tae on your tenth birthday, he was thirteen and new to the village. The two of you became friends quickly.

The dream you were having took place when you were sixteen, there was so much to gossip about at the time. Your best friend was busy that day with something he refused to tell you about, so you and Tae went into the forest to kill time before getting to know the surprise.

It felt like the dream lasted hours, it was so wonderful.

You miss them.

Your friends, your older cousin, the old swing.

You can't wait to leave this place and see them again.

"Apple!" The cheerful call reaches your ears, an echo of the dream.

Tears spring to your eyes as you lift your head and see nothing but dark dusty terrain that stretches on and on as far as the naked eye can see.

"Apple!" The way the sound of your nickname being called morphs brings a pit to your stomach, "Apple!!"

His tortured screams bounce around in your head.

"Help me!!"

You cover your ears, pushing against your skull with so much force you might actually damage your ears.

If only you could rip them off.

It wouldn't end the horrifying sounds cursing you with every breath you take.

Please, make it stop-

"Looks like you finally decided to grace Hell with your consciousness."

You flinch and look up to see him walking towards you.

"Bad dream?" He pouts at you in mock pity as you shakily bring your hands down.

You need to take a second, not answering him as you just stare.

"What? Don't tell me you're actually crying over a nightmare."

You wipe under your eyes to feel the salty tears that lay there.

Forgot you were crying...

"Where were you?" You ask hoarsely.

"Why? Afraid I might be escorting another little mortal girl through Hell?" A smirk spreads on his face, "Jealous, sweetheart?"

You shake your head, but don't bother to snap back.

You're still trying to ground yourself and recover from the deep crevices in your mind that love to torture you endlessly.

"You know, she's a lot more pleasant than you. We had a little fun in the second circle."

Your eyes snap to him and he laughs loudly at the fact that his little fib worked.

"Uh huh, so you are the jealous type."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"Even if I was," you gingerly check the bandages on your feet, "Why are you assuming you're the one I would be jealous over?"

"Your little boyfriend that can't take care of himself? That's who you'd be fighting the ugly green monster over? Pathetic," he spits.

"Not my boyfriend," you remind him absentmindedly as you concentrate on your injuries.

"Well then, if you're not the jealous type, is he?" He asks curiously.

You nod, "Yup."

That makes his infamous smirk return as he watches you.

"If you ever wanna have some fun, little mortal, let me know. Could get him to fall for you in seconds."

Your cheeks flush at his offer and you gulp, refusing to look at him.

The next thing you know, he's crouching next to you, too close for comfort as he says, "You might not be throwing yourself at me, girl. But that doesn't mean you don't want to. If you think I can't feel your urges, you're wrong."

You look him dead in the eyes, "Why would I want anything to do with a demon that's done nothing but hurt me and use my pain against me in every way he can think of?"

"Because you can't resist me. But don't blame yourself, no human can," he whispers, leaning closer even as you lean away, "You're just dying for a taste, aren't you?"

The way his eyes flit from yours to your lips makes a horrible flutter in your tummy that you try to push down.

He leans so close that you can feel his cold breath against your mouth and nose.

"Is the cold-hearted demon already catching feelings?" You whisper back in a moment of desperation to have the upper hand.

His eyes harden and he pulls away, a brief look of disgust on his unnaturally handsome face.

"Feelings? For this wretched little hag of a human?" JK picks up a lock of your knotted hair and drops it, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" His tone turns mocking once more. At least you got him to back up for a second, "If you think for a second I would lower myself that much, think again."

"You're already in Hell," you say back evenly, not breaking eye contact as you whisper, "How much lower can you get?"

You see his jaw clench and his hand squeeze into a fist.

Without flinching, you brace yourself for him to strike you in the face by gently closing your eyes.

But the hit never comes.

You gulp and stay where you are for a little longer, but when it becomes apparent that he's not going to hurt you, you open your eyes.

JK is standing a few feet away, staring at the ground with a glare fit to kill.

When he senses your movement, his glare turns to you.

"You act like you're so much better," he spits, "At least I didn't condemn myself to Hell for something as pathetic and fleeting as love."

You stand up, "Why did you condemn yourself here?"

He strides over to you, snarling, "I chose to be here. I chose to have my own power, not to answer to Him, not to be shackled to some duty of the greater good for the whole of my eternal sad little life."

"Power? You did this for power? Tell me JK, what power do you have?" You ask in disbelief, "You are shackled. All you do is walk around manipulating and tormenting and stealing souls. For who? You're telling me you chose this? That you do this for you?"

"I would choose it again, every single fucking time."

You shake your head, "You made a mistake-"

"Who are you to tell me I made a mistake?!" He roars, "I'd rather be stuck hunting every soul in this sorry excuse for a world than love someone who doesn't even love me back, who makes me lower myself so far that I'll be tortured for the rest of eternity just to let them have a longer life!!"

You stare at him, saying nothing.

It makes him even angrier.

"Your sorry ass can't even begin to understand what you've done for the sake of love," he says the last word like it tastes foul on his tongue, "You will regret ever coming here by the time I'm done with you. But that regret will get you nowhere."

The demon gets closer, "You will soon see what suffering is, I've gone easy on you. You can cry and scream and beg all you want; He won't have mercy on you. He sits up there on his throne and throws his creations away like they're worth no more than a piece of shit."

"You said you chose to-"

"Because I'd rather rot away down here than answer to Him," the demon seethes, "You think I'm cruel, mortal? You know nothing of cruelty. Take a look around you. Look at where you are. We're here because of Him."

You look away, locking your gaze on the ground.

He scoffs, "You know I'm right."

"You're not," You whisper.

"Whatever," he turns and starts walking, "I don't care what happens to you or your stupid little friend."

You watch after him as he keeps walking, never slowing down to let you catch up.

He's lying.

Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you start to follow.

If you thought your feet hurt before, the pain radiating through them now is nearly unbearable. All you can do is stare at the demon's back as he walks, keeping yourself grounded as you limp after him.

I'm not gonna give up.

I promise.

I'll save you.

You keep repeating these in your head and sometimes in a whisper to yourself. At one point though, you think he might hear you, because he looks over his shoulder and scoffs before marching ahead faster than before.

It felt like the vast field was never going to end, but like each circle thus far, it does. There's a forest just ahead that you think might wrap around the entire fourth circle. Closing in the desolate wasteland with a ring of dead trees.

You're not sure if the fifth circle begins in the forest though, it might not start until you're out...

JK walks without hesitation into the forest, leaving you to stumble after him, biting your tongue as your feet continue to get poked and slashed by the unforgiving earth.

But you don't stop.

He mutters to himself angrily, kicking stones and sticks and whatever else happens to be unlucky enough to be in his way.

Stupid mortal.

Stupid pathetic ridiculous sad excuse for a mortal.

He needs to control himself, he can't lash out like you make him so desperately want to. Everything is fucked up now, because he lost control. You're the only mortal that has ever weakened his resolve and made him break.

It's your fault he lashed out.

Now he's fucked.

How the hell is he meant to get your soul?

You're already damned to Hell. You made a deal with him and he's not going to lead you out of here. You might not give him your soul, but you won't be able to leave anyway. Not without him leading you out.

The problem isn't you escaping without giving him your soul.

The problem is time. Other demons will eventually find you and take your soul by whatever means they can. You'll wander Hell until they persuade you to give them your soul. You truly screwed yourself over.

He couldn't care less.

But you also screwed him over.

That's what pisses him off to no end.

What the hell is he even doing anyway?

This is a waste of time.

He thought he could manipulate you in so many different ways. Now he doesn't stand a chance. You won't listen to him, not after everything he's done and said.

He should never have made that deal.

If the two of you are found...

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, FUCK.

JK kicks a small stone laying in his path. It flies further than any so far, striking a tree so hard it takes a fairly large chunk of rotting bark with it as it falls to the forest floor.

He breathes heavily.

Calm down.

You need to calm down. Nothing beneficial is going to come out of losing all control.

He stops short, staring at a moldy leaf on the ground.

Then he turns to see you clamoring over a burnt log, your face twisted in pain.

A surge of rage consumes him for a moment when he looks at you.

Then it slowly ebbs away when he takes a few deep breaths.

Okay.

Okay, he's starting to regain control.

He's the one in charge here, not you. He's the one that's dealt with humans since the beginning of time, not you. He can control his emotions and impulses better than any mortal can. You are run by your emotions, all humans are.

At some point, whether it be lust, anger, grief, or anxiety, you will be taken over and he can take that upper hand once more.

Just stay calm.

That's his advantage, he just needs to use it smartly.

You stumble up to him, a look of surprise on your face when you realize he's not a hundred feet away and leaving you in the dust.

"Why did you stop?" You ask breathlessly, the first thing you've said to him in hours.

He looks down to see the bandages wrapped around your feet are soaked in red, not only the bottoms now. He briefly wonders if you cut the tops of your feet or if the bottoms have bled so much it seeped up the cloth until no more white was visible.

Then he looks back at you, "Didn't want to lose you."

He sees you twitch at that, just the smallest reaction, but he caught it.

Of course he did.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment and your lips quivered before you composed yourself.

Of course. Mortals are slaves to their emotions, continuously being bent to the will of them.

The demon smothers the smirk that nearly exposes him, continuing to look at you blankly.

"Ok, well. How much further?" You ask quietly, clearly still out of breath.

"Not much," he says, far too soft for his character as he turns to keep going, "Maybe another hour, no more than that."

You stare at him suspiciously, then you keep walking, staying alert.

He's obviously got some new trick up his sleeve and thinks you'll fall for it.

You shake your head and climb up onto a rotting log.

There was no other way around it, trees and bushes on either side blocking any way but over the top.

Carefully finding the right footholds, you go slow. The last thing you need is to hurt yourself even more. It's already taking you longer than it should with these injuries.

No matter how slowly and carefully you were going, it didn't do you any good when you made a wrong step and wood splintered underneath you.

You lurch forward, arms flailing in the air as you scrunch your face in preparation for hitting the forest floor and probably breaking your nose.

The sudden feeling of hands grasping you and halting your descent makes your eyes fly open.

You're met with the darkest eyes you've ever seen, staring straight into your soul. A full ten seconds goes by while you just stare at each other. You finally snap out of it and look down to see his hands are placed almost under your armpits where he caught you.

You gulp.

The demon doesn't look away when he lifts you a bit to unstick your foot from the log, then gently places you down, not even straining. It was as if he just swooped a toddler up before they ran into something and placed them out of the way.

He's about to keep walking, but stops when he feels a hand on his wrist.

Turning, he locks eyes on your small hand clasped around his wrist, little bits of dried blood are speckled along the back of your hand.

His eyes travel up until they meet yours, but you aren't looking at him.

A tense moment passes then you let go like he burned you, a lump in your throat as you take a faltering step back.

"Sorry," you squeak out.

He doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at you.

After another uncomfortable minute, he turns and keeps walking, as if nothing happened.

You put a hand over your eyes for a second, calming yourself before you follow him.

It's strange, as the two of you walk through the forest, you can feel yourself growing more and more irritated with each step.

That in itself is not much different than it's been the entire time you've been here. The weird part is that there's really no reason for it now. He hasn't said a word, neither of you have, not since you apologized for grabbing his wrist earlier.

He hasn't insulted you, hasn't antagonized you in any way.

So, why are you getting annoyed?

You shake your head, as if the physical action would somehow scatter your thoughts into the wind and you wouldn't have to deal with them anymore.

The feeling of being angry at someone or something, but not knowing what, is worse than one would think. You don't even have anything to think about to channel the anger towards, which makes you even more irritated.

"We're almost there-"

"Don't bother telling me until we're actually there," you snap.

You stop walking, startled at your own words. The demon ahead of you also stops but doesn't turn to look at you.

Eyes shifting around the wooded area surrounding you, you tap your foot in annoyance. You're not sure what made you snap at him like that, but honestly, he deserved it! He might not have done anything at that moment, but that doesn't mean you haven't had more than enough patience with his nasty behavior leading up to now.

He had it coming.

When he starts to turn to look at you, you expect to see him glaring and spitting an offensive remark. You ready yourself to shout an equally nasty comeback, but it dies in your throat when you see a smirk on his face.

Why-

Why is he smiling?

Shouldn't he be mad at you?

"Feeling a little grumpy?" He asks.

It's such a normal tone of voice he's using that you find yourself just standing there in confusion.

Your eyes narrow, "What's your game?"

The words come out more accusatory than you had intended, but you don't say anything to let him know that or take them back.

He chuckles, "I don't know what you're talking about. We should keep moving though, like I said, we're almost there."

He turns and keeps walking.

Sending a nasty look his way, you start walking annoyingly slow.

If you have to be in a foul mood, he should too. You'll annoy him as much as you can.

JK just chuckles to himself as he hears you grumble to yourself. He doesn't care how slow you walk; it'll probably just annoy you even more. Which is quite amusing to him.

It isn't even fifteen minutes later that you step out of the forest and onto a small stretch of prickly dirt.

You stop short when you look ahead and see a massive river. It's even larger than the one in the cave, yet this one has no ferryman to carry you across.

There are black gnarly mountains on the other side, thick dark smoke rising from behind them and the sound of screams echoing from somewhere deep within.

All of your anger dissipates, your self-control suddenly rocketing back into your body. You stumble back, coming out of your stupor.

Stay strong, ____.

You stare in horror at the sight before you.

Not at the river itself, but the humans atop it. There are thousands upon thousands of bloody people, all different sizes, ages, genders.

Their faces are twisted in rage as they bite and claw and wrestle each other. Blood coats them and the water beneath their feet.

JK turns to look at you, his expression unreadable when you're able to rip your eyes away from the gory mess to his own intense gaze.

It all makes sense now.

He gives you a tiny nod, confirming the unspoken question in your eyes.

That's why you were feeling that way in the forest. You must have passed into the fifth circle without realizing it.

Wrath.

You don't want to look; you don't want to see all of them tearing at one another violently. It didn't matter if some looked weaker than others, no one was being pitied.

Get a grip.

You nod, wiping at the hair falling into your face as you gather your courage.

I can do this.

"How do we get across?" You ask, voice quiet amongst the inhuman shrieks of rage and pain.

"We walk."

"Will they see us?"

So far, the only contact you've had with the sinners in Hell was that lady in the second circle. The reminder of the incident sends a chill down your spine.

None of the other prisoners seemed to have even known that you were there.

Thinking back, you realize that in the third circle you had only seen the sinners at the beginning, you were alone with him after that. And in the fourth circle, they weren't aware of anything or anyone at all.

Would this circle be the same?

"Does it matter?"

You look at him at his words, "Huh?"

"If I tell you they won't see you or if I tell you they'll rip you to shreds, would it change the fact that we need to cross?"

You bite your lip, then shake your head.

"There's no other way to cross," he says, reading your mind, "Straight through is the fastest way. Trying to find another path will only take longer, this river doesn't end, and the violence won't lessen."

You nod, adjusting your cardigan as you will yourself to be the bravest you've ever been.

"Ok."

"Ok?" He clarifies your decision, dark eyes boring into yours.

You nod.

"I'll see you on the other side then, hopefully all in one piece," he turns to leave, but stops when you grab his arm in a panic.

"Wait! You're not coming with me?"

He laughs and pulls his arm out of your grip, "Why would I?"

"B-because-"

"Whether I'm with you or not will not change what happens to you. I'm not going to subject myself to being around you during this, you're already whiny and annoying enough."

You gulp as he turns and walks away.

You glance at the river again before turning back, but he's gone.

"Darn it," you feel your eyes welling up with tears as you stomp your foot in frustrated anxiety. You're so scared you might actually be sick.

There's nothing for it.

You need to get across that river. Nothing is going to stop you, but sitting here analyzing is just going to stretch on that fear. You aren't sure if they will see you or not, maybe he was just trying to scare you. Either way it doesn't matter.

You're crossing that river.

Pulling your cardigan around you more and straightening your back, you start limping towards the endless battle.

None of them seem to sense your presence as you first come up.

A few feet to your right, a young man that looks to be in his twenties is being pummeled by a middle-aged man, his face a bloody mess as he tries to fight back, clawing at the elder's face mercilessly.

Your entire body is shaking with horror and fear.

You flinch violently when you see a young woman fall in front of your feet, scratches going down her face and throat. She looks up and you see her eyes are missing.

A hand flies to your mouth as you muffle the scream that leaves you.

Despite not being able to see, the woman suddenly lunges at you, grabbing your arm and yanking you into the throng, shrieking at the top of her lungs in pure hatred.

You fall to the ground and turn just in time to see her getting hauled up and dragged away by some other woman around her age. They start biting and kicking, blood spraying everywhere.

Your mind is clouded with so much confusion and terror that you don't move for a second.

Only when you see a thin man crawling frantically towards you on all fours, his eyes huge and mouth wide in an angered screech, does it register that you need to run.

You scramble to your feet and take off running.

There are so many people, all crowded and all enraged.

And so much blood.

You've never seen so much blood in your entire life.

It's slippery and leaves a thick coating on the bottoms of your feet as you push through the crowd frantically to get away from the crawler. More than a few times, you're pushed and fall onto your hands and knees, forced to crawl quickly until you can get back up.

The sound is deafening.

If you weren't in a state where you're thinking of nothing but getting out, you might notice the pounding headache from all the noise.

Finally, after what feels like forever, you see an opening.

There's a stretch of river where not many sinners are fighting.

You glance back and see that the crawling man is gone, probably fighting with someone else now. You push through until you're running out of the throng.

It's a relief to be able to run faster, but you're also out in the open, an easier target to spot.

You don't let yourself stop to think of anything but getting out.

You have to get out.

As you run, it suddenly occurs to you that you are literally running on top of the river.

You're not sinking.

There's no time to think about why or how people aren't sinking, you just push the thought out of your brain and keep running.

You thought you might actually make it.

It felt like the enormous stretch was getting smaller.

Then something hard smashes into you and you go flying, landing harshly and crying out at the pain in your shoulder.

You open your eyes and see a very large man standing over you, breathing heavily.

There are deep gashes down the sides of his face and neck that ooze with dark blood, his eyes glazed over with insanity and pure unadulterated fury.

He lets out a bellow of rage and grabs your arms, yanking you up as you scream fruitlessly for him.

For the one that isn't here.

The only one that's on your mind as you feel a horrible burning pain flare up through your arms, blood seeping through your cardigan.

You're dropped harshly to the ground, your head cracking on something hard.

Then you're being lifted again.

All you can feel is the scorching pain in your arms and the throbbing in your head as he smashes you on the river again and again.

Then suddenly his harsh grip is gone.

You cough, the dark sky above you spinning as you try to catch your breath, your whole body convulsing.

Blood trickles from the back of your head.

You roll over achingly slow, tears building in your eyes as you gulp in as much air as you can stand. It feels like your bones are broken beyond use.

When you're on your stomach, you open your eyes to be met with a pair of bright blue irises staring back at you. You're frozen with fear before you can try to raise yourself.

The body beneath you, trapped under the river, stares back with no visible emotion apart from despair and empty anger. There are deep black circles under the strikingly light eyes, sagging impossibly low on the pale face.

That's why you weren't sinking.

When you realize there are thousands of bodies trapped under the entire river, a horrified chill seeps into your bones.

Then you're suddenly sinking.

Burning hot hands grasp your wrists and pull you into the river.

You snap out of it and start trying to back up, unable to stop screaming, doing whatever you can not to sink and join the sullen lying beneath the water.

But the more you fight it, the faster you sink.

Until water rushes over your head and down into your throat.

The darkness under the water does nothing to hide the bodies stacked up, all staring at you. Not moving, just observing.

The hands no longer pull you, there is no need.

You continue to sink faster; screaming and kicking as the watery prisoners watch you drown.

The blackness starts to close in, coming from all sides until you can see nothing else. Right before you lose consciousness, you feel a pair of cold hands grab your wrists.

Then nothing.

____________________

You kick desperately to get to the light.

The beautiful blinding light.

But the water is quick to soak your skirts and make them as heavy as lead, which makes it harder to go up as you continue to sink into the blue water, kicking furiously.

It's so pretty when you're looking at it from above, you'd never guess the damage that something so beautiful can cause.

A shadow passes over the light.

It's actually kind of peaceful.

Then a hand grabs your wrist and you feel yourself being pulled toward the surface. You snap out of it a second before your head breaks through the water.

"Apple, you're so stupid!" He cries, dragging you onto the shore as you cough and gasp.

"S-sorry, I'm sorry-" you cough and choke out the water that went into your mouth, then you sit there numbly as your teeth chatter uncontrollably.

Your best friend gathers your skirts and pulls them from the water before crawling over and sitting next to you, patting your back.

"No- I- I'm sorry I didn't catch you."

You shake your head and offer him a smile, "I was too far anyway. I didn't think I'd actually slip and fall in. N-never happened until now," you're shaking even though the sun is bright and warm today.

"You're alright," he assures you, pulling you into a side hug.

You've always appreciated how he never lost showing physical affection and comfort even as the two of you got older.

All the other eighteen-year-old boys act like they're so much better than showing affection to loved ones.

Not him.

"Thanks," you say sheepishly when he hands you the blanket from your picnic earlier.

Then he sits next to you, right against your side, "You can't go and die on me, Apple. I don't know what I'd do without you."

You turn and look into his eyes, seeing something there that you've feared would come.

"I-..."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispers, "It's alright."

You nod, then turn your head to look at the sunlit forest around you.

I wish I could just stay here with you forever.

__________________

When you open your eyes, you see the river stretching on; the sinners still fighting their eternal battle in the distance.

Groaning in pain, you turn onto your side, then fall onto your back, a gasp leaving you at the impact between your shoulder blades.

You sense the presence before you see it, so you lift your head, afraid that big man might be back.

But you're met with the sight of the demon pacing back and forth, chewing on his thumb nail.

"You okay?" You croak out, squinting at him.

His eyes snap over to you and he brings his hand down, then walks over and crouches, holding his hand out.

"Am I okay?" He says with a raised brow.

You take it cautiously, wincing when he pulls you up into a sitting position.

"How-..." you clear your throat, "Did you pull me out?"

"Well," he stands up, "You're no use to me trapped under the river, are you?"

You wait for a moment before shaking your head.

"Exactly. Now get up, just because you made it across the river doesn't mean we can stop."

It hurts like hell to stand, but you do so anyway.

"You look like shit," he says casually.

"Thanks," you respond, gritting your teeth as you put a hand to the back of your head where it's really sore. Your hand comes away covered in blood.

Suddenly, you realize your cardigan isn't on all the way, so you quickly fix it. The sleeves are partly torn from where that man clawed into your skin, leaving blood streaked across your arms and cardigan.

"You're so fucking weird," JK says with a look of mild disgust on his face at your obsessive behavior of fixing your clothes.

You shrug tiredly, mind still stuck in the past.

It was so easy to wish for immortality when you were a kid, now you're beginning to wonder who would go through all of this just to live forever alone while their loved ones passed on around them.

"Having doubts?"

You look up and see him watching you closely.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" You wrinkle your nose at him.

A hint of a smile appears on his face, but he smothers it, then shakes his head.

"If you give up now mortal, I'll give you something to regret."

Then he turns and starts walking towards the base of the looming mountain.

You watch him for a moment, then you limp after him.

It wouldn't have taken long to get to the mountain, but your limp makes it take a lot longer.

Fifth circle.

Only four more to go after you get through this one.

You bite your lip anxiously as you think about how long you have to pull this off.

The circles seem to get worse with each one, how are you going to manage the ninth one?

Do you have to actually go through it?

How long have you been down here anyway?

You're not sure if he's ever told you the truth. For all you know, you could've been down here for a week or six months already. Time is so confusing.

You don't have all the time in the world though, and what time you do have, you're running out of it quickly.

JK turns when he hears you stumbling, watching as you right yourself.

He notices that your whole body is quivering slightly. Your hair is matted, and your dress is torn and bloody from the river. Your feet are bruised badly, the blood-soaked cloth still wrapped around them tightly. The wrapping around your wrist has also stayed put.

Honestly, he hadn't noticed how dark the circles under your eyes were until now. You look like you haven't slept in months.

When your eyes lift to his, he feels a weird pull in his chest.

What the fuck?

JK looks away, "If you'd walk a little faster, we'd be there by now. In fact, we'd probably be at the ninth circle if you weren't so weak."

He walks away briskly.

If he's being honest, you're one of the strongest humans he's ever come across. Your body seems to break down faster than theirs, but your spirit has yet to dim.

Fuck being honest.

He finally comes to the foot of the mountain, crossing his arms and looking up, trying to figure out the best way to get you up there. He doesn't want to be around you more than he has to be. There are other souls to take, he's only been able to get a couple dozen since you came.

The demon sighs and rubs his temple for a minute before turning at the unmistakable sound of you slowly walking up to him.

"Finally," he mutters.

"Sorry," you whisper, "It hurts to walk."

Your voice is small and you avoid eye contact.

...

He doesn't care.

"If you think you can possibly handle it," he snaps, "We need to climb."

You gulp, but don't hesitate before nodding with some effort, "Ok."

"If I go first, you can see where I grab. If you go first, at least you'll have a soft landing when you inevitably fall."

A small laugh bubbles out of your chest at his joke.

He swallows and rolls his eyes, "Just make a decision before we die of old age."

You get quiet again.

"I'll go first," you say lowly, walking over to the steep wall of jagged black stone, "Even though I'm pretty sure you won't catch me when I fall."

"Mm, you're learning."

You take a moment to observe the side of the mountain, looking at the places where you might be able to get a good grip.

It kind of reminds you of when you and Tae climbed the old apple tree while you waited for your best friend to be done with the surprise.

"Don't look down," he had said, "Just keep looking at the sky, little bird."

Just keep looking at the sky.

You take a deep breath, then you grab the first rocky hold, your sweaty palm closing around it as you send up a small prayer that your hands don't slip.

The first couple of feet are bad, but not as bad as you thought they'd be, although your injured wrist is already aching deeply.

I can do this.

"Think you could go a little faster?" He calls up to you, irritated.

"Don't antagonize me while I'm more than capable of falling onto your head," you shout back, more than fed up.

You hear a sigh, then focus on the task ahead.

Do not look down.

You gulp and grab the next tiny ledge, gripping it as hard as you can as you pull yourself up.

This mountain feels never-ending.

Your arms are shaking uncontrollably as you try to breathe so you don't pass out. You're willing to bet everything that he wouldn't even think about catching you if you fell. Not to mention your left wrist is screaming at you to stop.

"You're almost there, just keep going!" He shouts in annoyance.

You don't have the strength to answer him.

You don't have the strength to do anything, not to move, not to look up, not to even keep holding on where you're at. You realize this in a sudden burst of panic. Your whole body is shaking with the exertion of pulling your already worn-out self up the God forsaken mountain this far.

"I can't-"

It comes out in a breathless squeak; you aren't able to manage anything more.

"Just grab the next ledge, stop being a fucking wuss!"

You shake your head. You're afraid that if you let go, you'll just tumble to the bottom. It's not even funny, you don't think you can hold on much longer, your body is paralyzed with fear and exhaustion and so much pain, hands locked in place as you shake.

"Damn it all to fuckin-"

You hear him using every curse word in the book, the sound of little stones falling as he apparently moves.

Every prayer you've ever known is being repeated in your head. You're so scared of falling, which might be what makes it happen if you can't gather yourself in a minute.

"Lift your left hand and grab the hold a few inches to the left, can you see it?"

You chance a glance up, then nod.

"Ok, do it now."

You gulp, "I can't, I-"

"You don't have a fucking choice, idiot. Do it."

"No, I literally cannot physically move," you whisper, "My wrist can't take any more weight."

"Try, or I'll snap your other wrist too."

You breathe out shakily.

If you fall and snap your neck, he can't break your wrist anyway.

Gathering your strength, you lift your left hand, your right arm shaking like a leaf as you reach up and grab the small hold.

But once you put the smallest amount of weight into that hand, a sharp pain flares up and your wrist gives out.

A terrified scream is the only warning he gets.

Small stones fall haphazardly as your right arm gives out under the extra weight and you start to fall.

"Shit-"

Your scream gets cut off when you feel a hand against your lower back, keeping you from falling backwards. You take that moment to grab onto the wall again.

"I can't! I can't! I can't!" You're screaming, sobs clawing their way out of your throat as you cling desperately to the mountainside.

"I know! Shut up, damn it!" He grinds his teeth, glaring up at you.

You can't think clearly, you're so terrified that you're going to slip again.

"Stop crying!"

JK grumbles as he maneuvers around to climb up next to you.

When you feel his presence beside you, your nerves start to calm down.

"Have I told you recently how useless you are?"

You shake your head, "Not in the past hour, no," you squeak out tearfully.

He stares at you for a second, then shakes his head.

"I'm going to give you a boost-"

"No, no, no, no," you whimper, "I can't."

"You have a better plan, sweetheart?"

You think for a second, then reluctantly shake your head.

"Well alright then," he snaps, "You're only a few feet from the top. I'm gonna boost you up high enough so that you can get there, but you need to use whatever miniscule amount of strength you have to get up. Do you get it?"

You nod.

When you feel a hand on your bottom, you gasp, "Hey!"

He pulls his hand back, "What now??"

"Why are you touching me there??"

"Where the hell else am I supposed to do it?!"

"I- I-"

"Shut up and get ready."

The demon once again places a hand on your backside, which makes your cheeks burst into flames, then he pushes you up.

You quickly grab the closest ledge you can.

It wasn't quite the top though.

"Fuck."

JK growls and climbs up all the way, then gets to his knees and leans over the edge. He sees you shaking as you hold on tightly, the look on your face not far off from that of a frightened puppy.

"Give me your hand."

You look up to see him reaching down.

Using the last of your strength, you grab his hand, noting how unusually cold it is. He pulls you up and onto the top of the mountain where you collapse.

You're still shaking from the adrenaline of almost falling.

"You proved me wrong, little human."

You raise your eyes and see him panting, his hands on his hips as he looks down at you.

"Huh?"

"I thought for sure you'd fall."

"I almost did," you say quietly, embarrassed.

"Yeah, but you didn't."

You don't say it's only because he caught you, too surprised that he's not being mean. He's actually being kind of...dare you think it...nice.

Is this another one of his games or...?

When you lock eyes with him, he's the first to look away, his gaze dropping to the ground before he looks around.

"Well, at least you're not completely useless," he huffs, "Not that you're useful for much though."

You bite back the smile wanting to come and stand shakily to your feet.

"Hey, at least I'm good company."

He gives you a look before turning and walking away.

You stumble to catch up with him, your legs feeling like cooked noodles, "Oh come on, I've seen you laugh at things I've said."

"You're psychotic," he refuses to look at you as he keeps walking briskly.

"Wait, I can't walk that fast."

He slows down just a little, enough for you to catch up.

You smile and limp beside him, not voicing your amusement at him subconsciously listening to your request.

The two of you walk for a while, the jagged rocks on the mountain making it take longer. He doesn't hesitate to remind you of this as you fall behind more than a few times due to the pain in your feet.

The air is so thick with smoke up here that you've had more than your fair share of coughing fits in just the first few minutes, your lungs quickly starting to ache. After an hour has passed, it feels like your lungs are shriveled and full of the dark smoke still surrounding you.

You'll never admit to anyone the number of times you've thrown up already because it feels like your stomach is full to the brim with smoke. He slows down every time you're hunched over and gagging uncontrollably, but he never stops, calling a short reminder for you to hurry up.

It's so strange to see him walking without a single sign of discomfort.

JK glances back and sees you limping in a staggered line, arms waving in front of you to try and knock the smoke away from your face. You look delirious, eyes unfocused as you trip over rocks.

He stops when your foot catches and you fall to the ground, jagged stones digging unforgivingly into your shins.

"Sorry- I'm sorry, I'm coming," you say hoarsely as you place your hands on the ground to stand up but end up on your hands and knees as you cough weakly.

The sound of him walking over makes you glance up to see him standing over you.

Your eyes travel from his black boots up his dark skinny jeans covered in rips, all the way up to his unreadable expression. Then suddenly he's crouching in front of you.

His gaze scans your dirty face, noting your eyes are red and teary from the smoke.

"How much do you want it?" He whispers, looking into your eyes.

You blink and wipe a dirty hand on your eyes to clear away the tears as your body quivers.

"I want it more than anything," you whisper brokenly, staring back.

It looks like he's trying to decide something for a moment as his eyes flicker between yours, then his jaw clenches a little and he holds his hand out.

"Then act like it."

You stare at his hand for a moment, then you place your shaky one into it. Your hand is covered in ash and grime, a stark contrast compared to his seemingly perfect skin.

A second passes before his grip tightens and he pulls you to your feet.

You expect him to let go and tell you to keep walking, so you're taken by complete surprise when he starts walking while holding your hand tightly.

"We're almost to the sixth circle," he says quietly.

"Ok," you respond softly, eyes locked on your hands.

"I don't understand why you're so insistent on helping someone that would put you through this," he speaks up again, confusing you further, "But if you're going to be a stubborn little bitch about it, then I'm certainly not going to watch you give up so easily. Especially in the fifth circle. You could at least have a little more class than that."

A small smile spreads on your tired face as you stumble along behind him, hand gripping his tightly.

_________________________________

Another hour passes with him practically dragging you across the top of the mountain.

A lump gets lodged in your throat when you see a fiery red glow in the distance that grows larger as you get closer.

When you're as close as you can get, he stops.

The deep red smoky essence is on the other side of a gnarled line of sharp rocks that jut out of the ground to look almost like a spine splitting the two circles, the only thing keeping you from seeing the other side.

"The Devil's Backbone."

"Hm?" You rip your gaze from the rocks over to where he looks at you briefly.

"That's what this place is called."

"Oh."

The name is no more comforting than the look of those rocks.

"How-...how do we get across?"

You're acutely aware of the fact that he's no longer holding your hand, but you force yourself not to linger on that.

"There's a path through it, but it won't be easy."

"What else is new?" You joke, voice sounding scratchy.

He looks at you, eyes squinting as he simply observes you.

"You're the strangest mortal I've ever met."

You shrug, "It's a gift."

JK snorts and looks back towards the Backbone, "You'll want to get some rest. Think you can survive a few hours without me?"

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Would it make sense for me to say that if I wasn't?" He sneers, but this time it makes you laugh, entirely unintentional on his part.

"I told you; I've got other things to do besides babysit you."

You sigh and shake your head, "I guess a demon's job is never done."

He shoots you an unamused look before pointing over to a giant rock that has a flat side, a small area for you to sit and be out of the way and away from prying eyes.

You won't argue with that.

Walking over, you see a small burnt log sticking out of the rocks and reach down to touch it. It's warm, but not scalding, so you decide it's a decent enough place to sit for a while.

You take a seat carefully, then look up in surprise when you see the small floating fire a few feet in front of you. He always seems to make it when you aren't looking.

"Not that you need more smoke," he mumbles uncertainly, "But it gets a little chilly sometimes."

You watch him as he looks around aimlessly.

Then he shakes his head, a scowl forming as he kicks a blackened rock, "Or don't use it, I don't really give a fuck. Just- just try not to cause any trouble. You're hopeless on your own."

Then he turns and stomps away.

He walks behind a boulder, then there's nothing but silence.

You stand up and walk over to peek behind the boulder but see nothing. There was nowhere else for him to go, so he must've disappeared into thin air. Off to steal more souls no doubt.

You swallow and walk back to your little stump, plopping yourself down onto it as you fight the tears suddenly coming.

Letting your head hang for a second, you stare at a broken stick lying on the ground.

"Don't look down, ____."

Tears blur your vision, the stick warping into odd shapes.

A stabbing pain in your upper back makes you wince, a couple tears slipping out when you do. You lift your head just enough to look around and make sure he hasn't come back.

There's no one.

Nothing.

You're completely and utterly alone.

Another few tears slip out as you carefully pull your cardigan off, a pained gasp leaving you as the white feathery wings that have been tucked up for as long as you've been here finally unfurl and rest against the ground.

You glance back and see that there are a few rips and more than a couple missing feathers. The usual gleaming pearl white is now dull and stained and caked with blood and dirt.

"Ow," you whimper as you finally let your head drop into your dirty hands. A sob escapes you, your whole body shaking with tears as you let them all out. The ground is so blurred that you can't even see the stick anymore.

The pain radiating through you is debilitating. Eventually you can't even stay perched on the stump and slowly sink to the ground, your wings curling around you in an attempt at comfort.

Your body is failing you no matter how hard you fight it.

Just keep looking at the sky, little bird.

Another sob rips through you as you clutch at your aching heart, your feet tucked up under your torn skirt.

You force yourself to turn your head and look up but see nothing apart from thick suffocating smoke covering every inch of the sky.

You don't belong here.

Even as you lay on the ground unmoving, you can feel the life draining from you.

As it has since you stepped foot into this place. As it will continue to until you can get out.

For an angel can only survive so long in Hell.

________________________

a/n: tysm for reading babiesssssss

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shadowsandshapes · 1 year

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FFTB | CH 8: They Danced (Dabi/F!Reader)

Summary: Why can't you forget him? Why is that kiss still lingering in the back of your head? You're so sick of Dabi's memory that you decide to take matters into your own hands. You need to get out. Do something to get over yourself. The night does not go as planned. Contains: Swearing, Alcohol Use, Drug Mention, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, A Series Of Very Unfortunate Events, Spice Mild (aka, we're getting a little smutty in here), Men Are Garbage

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Days had gone by since your explosive departure from the League but your thoughts had refused to organize themselves. Your apartment was too quiet, the bed too soft and your day-to-day routine had become mind-numbingly boring without missions to keep you occupied. It left far too much room for contemplation. Which was how you came to the realization that Dabi had you in a chokehold. You didn’t understand half of what went down in that hallway. What you did know was that this had to stop. One way or another, you would force yourself to forget. The best method you found was to get blackout drunk and hit the town. Problems couldn’t follow you if you were never in the same place twice, right?

That’s how you found yourself on the dance floor of a new club every night. Tonight being no exception.

The dancing crowd blurred into one amalgamated being in your eyes. Figures rocked to the beat, bouncing along to the blaring club music as they moved in tandem. You were one in a hundred swaying bodies – eyes closed, arms up as you lost yourself in the moment. For a while, just a brief moment in time, you were able to forget all about Dabi.

His bright blue eyes flashed in your memory in the quietest moments of the night. Their burning gaze had robbed you of sleep – of peace – for far too long now. Even after severing your ties to the League, the raven-haired arsonist had infested your mind. Some days you even swore he was following you around, seeing his face on every street corner. It was driving you crazy. So much, in fact, that you felt the need to take matters into your own hands. Forgetting about him was the only thing that would cure the ache in your chest.

Bastard.

Why did you care anyway?

Gambling, alcohol, drugs – it didn’t matter. As long as it made you forget. Your Luck would keep you safe. That accursed Quirk was the only thing you could rely on. As long as you were pleasantly numbed by the drink, you wouldn’t be able to think about your feelings too much. The sting of vodka coated your tongue and throat. With each shot you downed, your awareness descended deeper into oblivion. Where it fucking belonged. You had lost all sense of touch around your mouth, you noted, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh of your lower lip. Dabi crossed your mind again – his teeth gnawing at your skin, biting – kissing. His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing down as he whispered into your ears. A flash of anger snapped you from your stupor, bringing your attention back to the dancefloor. Fuck. You needed to get laid. That would knock some goddamn sense into you. Luckily for you, there was plenty of fish in the sea.

Your eyes homed in on someone in the crowd – a man, not much older than yourself. He was watching you intently. The curve of your ass, the bounce of your tits as you danced. Hunger. Desire. Every nasty little thing he was thinking about doing to you was plastered all over his face. You could have him – you could have whoever the fuck you wanted. Fuck Dabi. Men were easy. Fools you could use for your own enjoyment and pleasure. All you had to do was invite him in. You stuck out your tongue – making sure to hold his gaze – and ran it along your lips. He grinned, depositing his half-empty drink on the bar. Hook, line and sinker. Within seconds the man was next to you – hands grabbing onto your hips to grind against you.

Now this was more like it.

The music coursed through you – fueling your desire to move even further. Your new partner seemed delighted: his hands wasting no time in groping every inch of your body. He was bewitched. Soft curves, tight dress – you were truly a heavenly creature. The crowd was the perfect cover. No one would see how he touched you. How his fingers wrapped around the curve of your breasts, or how your ass pressed against his aching crotch. You inspired a craving like no other. Lips found your neck, peppering the skin with affection and desire. You closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation – only to be met with a familiar fantasy. The scent of smoke and fire. Blue eyes staring you down. Kisses on your collarbone. His teeth grazed your neck. You wanted to stop – be mad and forget about him – but it felt so good. Even in your inebriated state, all you could think of what that damn villain.

What had Dabi done to you?

Ever since that damned kiss, all you could think of was Dabi. His beautifully intense gaze, his voice, his taste. The way he had looked at you. Your mind was absolutely consumed by the League’s arsonist. That burning desire you had seen within his eyes. It was tainted by his cruelty. Dabi had spat venom at you to push you away. And yet you craved for him. Even if he hated you, you still wanted him. It was pathetic. In your current state though, you found it difficult to care. A pair of hands squeezed your breasts. You imagined Dabi grinding against you. He would taunt you. Call you out whenever you moaned like a little bitch for him. The curve of your ass bumped against his crotch as you swayed to the beat. You could feel his cock through the flimsy fabric of his trousers. To no one’s surprise, you had this man worked up. Unable to keep his hands off you, he grabbed your hips with both hands. An audience of hundreds be damned. Dabi wouldn’t give a shit. Neither would you. You were too far gone to give a single fuck about dry-humping this bastard in public. Dabi needed to know what he missed out on. The music melded with your desperate voice as you cried out for him, throwing your head back against his shoulder.

“You’re so hot, baby–” a voice broke through your self-indulgent illusion, barely rising above the droning music in your ears. Your eyes snapped open. The disappointment that followed was immediate.

Oh. Right.

This guy. You managed a smile – one that stroked your dance partner’s pride. Fuck. This was a terrible idea, wasn’t it? The thought solidified in your mind as a second pair of hands brushed against you. Squeezing your ass shamelessly. Your head snapped over to the source. Another one. Big, burly frame and a killer smile. How long had he been watching you? The newcomer greeted your dance partner with a casual nod. The pair seemed familiar with each other, exchanging a look you knew all too well. Predatory intent. This party was getting a little crowded. Perhaps you’d gotten a little too carried away on your quest to forget about Dabi.

The big guy leaned over, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You wanna come home with us, little girl?” His voice bounced off the inside of your skull. Even the music seemed quieter with his words rattling around in your brain.

Stop this, a voice in the back of your head called. Say no.

You nodded – smiling as the pair not-so-subtly locked eyes and shared a laugh. Idiot, you chastised yourself. His large hand took your own. You felt small. They could break you. Why didn’t that thought deter you? In fact – you’d almost go as far as to say it excited you. Maybe this was exactly what you needed to get over yourself.

The dancing crowd parted for the three of you – just enough to let you pass. Your instincts were on fire.

Run.

Go back.

Don’t do this.

But you wanted it. You needed it. The realization was a frightening one. Toga was right. You were down bad and the only way to drown this fucking crush was to overpower it. If you got annihilated in the process then so be it. These men would save you or break you. At this point? It didn’t matter which. You couldn’t tell if the droning in your chest was your heart or the beat of the music. It wasn’t until you made it outside and the music could no longer drown out your thoughts that it dawned on you – you were scared. Their intentions were anything but pure and yet you were willingly following them away from the club. To god knows where. You might not make it out of this. This was stupid even for your intoxicated ass. You knew better. This wasn’t about Dabi anymore. You could admit that you felt something for him now. That much was clear. What was happening to you now was no excuse to act so recklessly.

“I’m sorry –” you said, ripping your hand back. “I can’t go through with this.”

The men exchanged a glance. Then laughed. Your heart sank into your stomach. They weren’t going to let you walk away, were they? Your feet instinctively moved back as they approached.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart, we had a deal –”

“Are you fucking deaf? She said no, you idiots.” A voice called from behind – you recognized it in an instant. It couldn’t be. You had to be crazy. It took your inebriated eyes a moment to focus on and recognize your savior. What awaited you was not mere fantasy. This wasn’t some delusion the vodka in your veins had cooked up. Dabi emerged from the night crowd and took his place between you and the two men. He pulled your arm – making you stumble in behind him.

What the hell was he doing here? And more importantly – why was he helping you?

While his expression was difficult to read, Dabi’s voice had a vicious bite to it as he spoke. You’d never seen this sort of intensity from him before. Not even when he called you a liar and a cheat. Usually, Dabi wasn’t all that scary. Not to you anyway. A lot of other villains would probably disagree. But you never once feared for your life with him. If anything, his quiet fury kept you safe. Sure, Dabi was tough and intimidating at times but this was something else entirely. It felt like a quiet storm. A calm, white-hot rage that had even you reeling.

Palm slowly heating up – a familiar blue glow gathering upon its surface, Dabi raised his hand at the men in silent admonition. “Scram. Final warning, I won’t ask again.”

You held your breath as they stared each other down – the distant thumping of music syncing up with your frantic heartbeat. If these guys didn’t do something soon, you knew for a fact that Dabi was going to turn them to ash. Witnesses be damned. He’d burn down the whole club if he had to. This was someone from the League of fucking Villains. Everyone knew not the mess with them. One of the guys finally seemed to realize this fact. He scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Whatever – this stupid slut isn’t worth it anyway. Let’s get out of here.”

Dabi’s eyes narrowed in disgust. He really shouldn’t have said that. There was no hesitation in what he did next. A flash of unbearable heat blazed into the night. Flames shot forth from his palm. Their blistering heat beat down on the two men as they screamed in agony, crumpling to the floor in a smoldering heap. The inferno overwhelmed them both in mere seconds. Skin got torn from bone by the sheer force of Dabi’s attack – only to be incinerated in the blink of an eye. The blast was so large it even scorched the side of the building, leaving behind a sizeable burn on the brickwork. You gaped at the sight.

Why did he – they had surrendered!

Someone in the crowd screamed and the next thing you knew, you were running. Dabi had grasped your wrist and tugged you along. Dashing through the streets, you did your best to keep pace with him. He wasn’t looking at you – focussing all of his attention on escaping the scene. You stared at the back of his head wondering what he was thinking. Dabi found you. Despite your best efforts to stay away from him. Maybe it was fate. His hand tensed around your wrist. Tightly. Then he began slowing down. Until finally, you came to a stop.

Now what?

You didn’t get the opportunity to thank him – stumbling as Dabi shoved you towards a nearby alleyway. His treatment of you was anything but gentle as he grabbed your upper arm and pushed you out in front of him. Your back hit the brick wall next to some greasy trashcans. A handful of thugs that had gathered in the alley looked over at the commotion. Wanting no part in what was about to happen next, they quickly made themselves scarce. Dabi huffed out a breath and released you. You reeled – partially from being manhandled and partially from the alcohol finally beginning to wear off.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dabi spat, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He wouldn’t look at you, choosing to pace back and forth instead. The sound of his voice alone was enough to make you understand he was livid.

Back against the wall – coming down from a days-long bender and staring directly at the man you desired, you were starting to wonder the same thing.

A/N: Delusional smut is still smut lmao. We're nearing a boiling point with these two! (: Enjoy this cliffhangerrrrrr love you <3

Taglist: @kelin-is-writing @dynamars @dabislittlemouse @simpysheep @ohnoitsthatonekid @tonysttank

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#shade's fftb #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya x reader #touya x y/n #touya todoroki #touya x you #dabi x female reader #mha dabi #bnha dabi

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vampsickle · 2 years

Text

quitting. ☆ ( dmc4 ) dante

☆ tags - fem!reader, rough as hell dante’s kind of a bastard but nothing too crazy i think, facefucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, mentions of breeding, petnames, unprotected sex, spanking.. i think that’s it

☆ wc - 2.4k

☆ a/n - i like dmc4 dante he’s such a sexy loser.. entering his old man era! he’s ur boss too<3 i kind of went crazy writing this so i’m sorry if it’s not to ur expectations lol.

☆ synopsis - after working for devil may cry for a year or two now, you cannot stand your boss, dante. when you go over to tell him right to his face that you quit, he finds a way to keep you from leaving.

You’ve worked at Devil May Cry for a few months now, being the youngest ‘employee’ there, well, now 2nd youngest since Nero arrived. But you didn’t mind Nero. In fact, you liked Nero, Lady, Trish, and Kyrie. They were all kind to you and you’d always return their kindness. You got along best with Lady as the both of you shared similar experiences and interests. But the one you couldn’t stand.. Was the owner himself, Dante. You’d go so far as to call him a brat. He’s facetious, smug, but — charming as well. Only when he wanted something from you.

What annoyed you most was the inappropriate ‘glances’. He’d look down your shirt with no remorse and sometimes his hand would rest too low on your back, so close to your ass. You don’t doubt that he would try and get a peek up your skirt. Despite all that— He treated you so cruelly. He’d never take you seriously, leave you out of important discussions, and sometimes he’d flat out ignore you.

Everyone’s used to your squabbles— simply tuning it out. Sometimes you’d ask if you could go with Dante, but he’d deny you every time, and brush you off, again. He drove you insane. So you’d quit. You would tell him that you’re done, sick of his antics, and his flat out bratty attitude.

It’s cold out, snow is starting to fall, a sure sign of winter. Dante doesn’t even look up when you walk in, staring at his porn magazine, probably not even reading it. A sigh falls from your mouth and you approach his desk.

“Dante.”

“Hm?”

“I’m quitting.”

“What?”

It almost sounds like he doesn’t believe you. His gaze is sharp, pale blue eyes staring up at you, his attention is now on you. But before you can get another word out, Dante chuckles quietly, shaking his head.

“Alright, alright.. I get it now. You just wanted my attention! You could’ve just said so, babe.”

He sounds so casual, like nothing’s wrong. Yet his eyebrow cocks upward— confused over your annoyed expression. Your face flushes with anger and you huff.

“That’s exactly it! You never take me seriously, you asshole. I’m done, besides, you never let me help out. So if you just want to have fun with your group, just count me out, and you won’t hear from me again. I thought you’d like a reason— But you probably don’t care about that either.”

Your voice is laced with venom and you refuse to look at Dante again. But a part of you feels prideful when he doesn’t respond. Then it feels uncomfortably silent. He’s still staring at you, eyes tinged with annoyance, like he’s offended at the fact that you said that to him. Dante takes ahold of your wrist, his grip rather tight, and you try to pull away.

“What the hell— Don’t tell me you’d miss me, Dante,” despite his bruising grip, you chuckle sarcastically, using your other hand to dig your nails into his arms.

But Dante has none of your attitude, letting you go for only a second, just to throw you over his shoulder.

“Hey! Wha—“ you’re cut off by a sharp smack to your ass and it burns. You squeal and Dante smirks at the noise you’ve made. Yet you still squirm in his tight grip, pushing against in his back in an attempt to wiggle your way out. Halfway up the stairs you realize he’s taking you to his bedroom and suddenly you’re blushing, slowly stopping your futile movements.

“Atta girl. Just need me to knock some sense into you, yeah?” His voice lowers and Dante licks his teeth.

“What— Are you gonna kill me or something?” you joke, but even then there’s a hint of truth in your statement, squeaking softly when Dante tosses you onto his bed.

“Nope. I’m gonna show you what you’ll miss if you left me.”

Your face flushes. ‘Me’? Not ‘Devil May Cry’?

Dante notices that you’re thinking too much about his choice of wording so he’s on top of you now, kissing you so hard that it hurts, and deep down, you love it. You wanted this.

He pulls away from you, quickly flipping you over so now you’re on your stomach, and he doesn’t hesitate to rip your jeans off. Ruins them. Your brand new jeans.

“Idiot! Wait—!” but he won’t let you talk, instead smacking your ass, and you cry out. Dante’s fondling your asscheeks and you blush, making an attempt to crawl away. But you want him to pull you back. To put you in your place. He knows that. Maybe he needed this just as bad.

“How badly did you need this, baby? Always wearing those little skirts, shirts so low your tits could pop out. Damn— I tried to control myself, I really did, but now-“

He ends his sentence with another hard slap to your ass and you sob, jerking away from him, but he holds you in place.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t that right, baby? You wanted to dance with a devil?” all you can do is moan in response, tears forming in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks.

Dante smacks your ass several more times, until it burns, and it hurts to move too much. His hands are so rough, calloused from years of fighting, but he squeezes and rubs your asscheeks after his relentless assault on them.

“I annoy you, huh? Look how wet you are for me, though.. You seriously can’t hide how bad you want me.”

You don’t respond, instead whimpering so softly, like an injured dog. But that gets him even harder, his cock straining against his tight pants, begging to be released. Honestly you had no idea things would turn out this way. Once again your thoughts are interrupted when Dante rubs his clothed erection all over you and you whine at how tender your ass feels.

His strong hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you up, and tugging you to him. You land right in front of his crotch, cheeks flushed, and he palms himself through his pants. Then you look up at him, barely seeing his eyes through his white bangs, but now he’s expecting something from you.

So you tentatively unbuckle his belt, hands trembling, and then unzip his pants, releasing his cock from the confines of his boxers. Dante sighs, pumping himself a few times, and watching you so carefully. How you stare at his hand, his cock and it’s incredible size, how thick he is. A cruel idea pops into his head, so he grabs a fistful of your hair and holds your head in place, slapping your cheek with his cock.

All you can do is gasp and cry softly, eyebrows furrowing, but Dante has better plans for your mouth.

“Shh, baby. C’mon, let’s put that mouth to good use.”

Instead of arguing or even attempting to quip back in response, you open your mouth, tongue lolling out. Dante groans quietly, slowly sliding himself into your mouth, chuckling softly when you gag and sputter.

“Good girl. Taking my cock so well,” he rocks his hips back and forth, hitting the back of your throat and you choke on him, but you try and lick the underside of his shaft. God, his noises are making you so wet.

“That’s it.. Just take it, baby…” Dante groans, head rolling to the side, just watching as you take it all in. He’s impressed. You moan so softly and the vibrations against his cock makes him shiver.

But he won’t be gentle forever, picking up his pace, drool running down your chin, more tears welling up in your eyes. Now you focus on breathing through your nose, gripping his thick thighs, closing your eyes as tears fall through your lashes. Dante groans, biting on his lip, looking down at you through half lidded eyes. You’re so messy. It turns him on so bad, gets him even closer, and you’re aware that he’s going to cum soon as his dick twitches in your mouth.

For a moment his hand loosens on your hair, just chasing his own high, eyes squeezing shut.

“Yeah— Shit, ‘m gonna cum, are you gonna swallow it for me, baby?” you can’t respond which is exactly why he asks. You are going to swallow it. And when he cums, he cums a Lot. Dante throws his head back, pulling you in until your nose brushes against his scratchy white hairs, eyes rolling.

It’s so much. You’re overwhelmed and Dante waits until he can hear you swallow it all. Then he pulls out of your mouth and you gasp, coughing and sputtering, rubbing your neck, attempting to massage your throat.

“Fucking hell, you asshole,” you pant, gasping softly when you notice how Dante’s already hard again, lazily stroking himself.

“Aww, but I thought you wanted this, baby. Get on all fours for me, ass up.”

It takes you a moment but you slowly turn around, getting on all fours, sticking your ass up for him. He whistles at the sight, rubbing you through your panties, feeling how soaked you’ve become.

“Let me pull them off you, baby.” he says in a husky voice, smiling to himself when you attempt to push yourself closer to him so he can finally get them off you. Carefully he pulls them off you, throwing them into his closet, making a mental note of that. Two fingers rub against your slit, then he swipes his finger over your clit, and you moan.

“Where’d that attitude of yours go, huh? Guess you just needed this to shut you up.”

“Shut— Shut up, you pervert,”

Dante tsk’s at you, slapping your ass, and you cry out. Your eyes widen at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your pussy, the tip being sucked in by your welcoming heat, and he chuckles.

“Yeah? Look how bad you want me.”

Before you have a moment to even think of a response he shoves himself inside you, to the brim, and you almost scream. He’s so big. Feels even bigger inside of your pussy. It stretches you out and, god, does it burn.

“Fuck-! Dante, it’s too big,” you’re sobbing, trying to look back at him, but he just smiles, gently rubbing your ass in response.

“You can take it.”

That’s all he says as he begins to set a brutal pace, hips slapping against your ass, his cock reaching so deeply inside you each time he thrusts back in. It feels so good and so dirty. He makes you feel filthy. A gloved hand squeezes your ass and he grabs your hips, pulling you back onto him. You gasp, crying out, feeling close already.

“Yeah, god, knew you’d feel good,” Dante groans, reaching under you to rub your clit, bringing you closer to your release. Teeth sink into the pillow, muffling your moans, but he doesn’t have any of it, and grabs your hair to pull you up.

“You gonna cum, baby? All over my cock?”

All you can do is nod frantically in response, moaning like a pornstar, your walls contracting around him. Dante moans, holding you so tight that you’re sure bruises will show up tomorrow. His thrusts are messy now, his breathing becoming heavier, and that coil in your stomach finally snaps.

You cum hard, nearly screaming, and Dante follows suit, shooting his load inside you. Maybe he should’ve asked if you were on the pill beforehand. But, fuck, seeing his cum leaking out of your pussy makes him just want to breed you.

So, he decides: He isn’t done with you yet. Yet you’re still catching your breath, wiping your tears against his soft pillow, and he slowly pulls out of you.

“Don’t fall asleep on me yet, baby.”

Dante flips you over, spreading your legs, and pushing them up towards your chest.

“Wait—! I’m still-“ but your pleading falls on deaf ears as Dante easily slips back inside of you. Your pussy spasms around him and you choke on your moan.

“God, I’m gonna breed this pretty pussy.” it’s not a question, it’s a statement. You blush, gasping at how this new position has him even deeper inside you than before, hitting your cervix.

What have you gotten yourself into? There’s no time to regret anything now as Dante starts up with that same brutal pace is before, like he’s desperate, desperate to keep you close.

“Need you to stay, baby. Cuz’ you’re mine now,” he growls out the last part of his sentence, and when you catch his eyes, they’re hazy with lust, but also determined.

Suddenly he’s hitting that special spot inside of you, the one that you can’t even reach on your own, and he knows this with the way you cry out for him.

“Tell me that you’ll stay. Tell me— damn,” Dante groans and you feel as though the wind has been knocked from your lungs. But you make an effort to respond, giving him a breathless ‘i’ll stay’, as well as his name spilling from your lips repeatedly. He likes that. Likes the way his name comes out of you so easily, no, he loves it.

You both cum together and, god, his cum is so, so deep inside you. You’re both panting, maybe more you than him, but regardless you’re spent.

Dante’s hips slowly move again and you cry out softly at the feeling, you’re too full, it’s too much. You push against his chest but he kisses your temple in response.

“Can you give me one more, babe?”

You can’t refuse him.

But one more turns into another, and another, and another. Until you’re shaking and sobbing into his pillow, his cum that leaked out of your pussy pooling under you. No normal person can cum this much, you think, but— Dante’s not a normal person, is he?

How many times did he make you cum? And how many times did he cum inside you? Probably about 6 times. You’re exhausted and your pussy is throbbing, but you can relax now. Dante coaxed you into drinking some water even though you were basically half asleep.

You came here to quit, to leave and not look back, maybe find a job at a local grocery store. But Dante clearly had other plans for you. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you right into his chest, still somewhat damp with sweat. Usually you’d be a little grossed out but right now you craved this warmth.

Maybe you’d have him carry you around tomorrow as payment for literally fucking the daylights out of you. But you’ll talk to him when that time comes.. And when you can actually talk. Anyways, you can hear him softly snoring besides you now, and you giggle quietly. You should sleep too.

#dmc4 x reader #dmc4 dante #devil may cry 4 smut #devil may cry smut #dante smut #dante x reader smut #zzz so tired

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kiyoitiepie · 5 months

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Gurl, let me do you one better regarding mpreg Pit Babe :)

Pregnant babe won't happen because we have: Charlie's arc in becoming Enigma by the drugs he uses in S1. (Even if Way is not the bad guy, Tony, the rich evil bastard who might very well dabbled in Experimental drugs and experiments of children to make himself powerful and immortal, IS so to stop him... Enigma Charlie? Hell yes!), Tony and Way are not dead and on their asses with a vendetta. Babe has fears (child abandonment, not being good enough parent, daddy issues, kidnapping, lingering trust issues, and maybeee toxic masculinity and body image issues? Who knows! ).

To me, the most logical thing would be Charlie and Babe's story arc in S2, which is them getting over their issues. Defeating baddies. Finally having peaceful life at the end of the series, and then Babe can ask him the same question that Charlie asked after they became boyfriends. "Do you want to have a child?"

The other logical thing is if they DO introduce Omegas, then Jeff is an omega (either he hid the fact due to society or the bastard Tony OR Jeff didn't know) and becomes pregnant. Alan pretty much hypervents and is scared shitless of parenthood.

Jeff on the other hand has soo much potential to have an angsty arc!

Tony is alive, and if he finds out, then Jeff and the baby's life is in danger.

Jeff sees a premonition where he gets kidnapped, OR someone kidnaps the baby from the crib.

His powers take a toll on his body and mind since he sees premonitions regarding X hunter family and Alan, where they are in constant danger.

Tony could either be dead, and his presence is a hallucination induced by Way, who is very much alive because Enigma powers! (remember, we don't know much about how powerful they could be) or Tony could be alive because an evil rich bastard like him who doesn't care about human lives, sells people especially children dead or alive. (And breeds and teaches them like animals) DO YOU REALLY THINK such an evil shit gonna be like "hmm.. let me just sell these super powered children and not think about my mortal life"

I bet my non-existence balls that he not only sold those children but also lobbied companies and scientists who experiment on healing or ways to make oneself immortal.

Just imagine how terrifying he becomes! From an evil bastard who does inhuman stuff ==> to undefeated evil bastard who does inhuman stuff and will never die no matter how much bullet you use and can easily buy powerful people in governments because he doesn't waste any resources (even the dead people) and he's filthy rich.

(Clears throat) My excitement is over now.... thanks for reading! :D

P.s. by the way, I think Babe's dad freed them. My theory is that he either is a cop (post-losing childBabe) or works in an organization that protects special alphas. He be like, "Well, kids either help me out of this prison or refuse and stay in prison) and mot say a word to our characters about the impending threat, which is Tony/Way. So we have three groups: X hunter family (protagonists), evil duo (antagonists), and suicide squad trio (trying to prevent shit from happening)

omg now that you mention it i can definitely see tony working on a way to be immortal. it just fits the bill. i’d be excited to see charlie become an enigma and honestly doubt they’d introduce omegas this far down the line unless it heavily affects the storyline.

i can see how mpreg logically isn’t going to happen in s2 but i also feel like logic isn’t the way to go with this show. esp with the trailer showing not one but two dead and buried ppl alive. but if we are considering logic, s1 was about babe, the heartless racer, learning that he’s allowed to love and be loved in return. the reason he felt that he couldn’t be is the trauma of being sold by his family and brainwashed by his friend. s1 was about him overcoming those things and opening his heart to love in spite of them. in that way i do feel like its logical to think that s2 features babe’s character growing enough to also open his heart up to making a family of his own. funny enough i actually don’t think season 2 will have mpreg. i don’t think they’re brave enough. but i would love to be proven wrong.

loving the suicide squad concept but i feel like itd be cool if pete freed them. im a sucker for petekenta ~

#pit babe the series

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inkrabbit · 1 year

Text

Ace of Cups

Pairing: Primo x ghoul!GN!Reader

Summary: After finally coming to terms with your feelings for your master, you finally confess to him.

Word count: 1,967

The ritual hadn't even started and you were already anticipating it to end. You were running around with the other ghouls, getting the stage set up and making sure everyone was dressed proper in their robes and masks. You had even yelled at Primo a couple times, shooing him away when he tried carrying some bigger, more heavier items. He pouted when you told him that he should relax and just focus on getting ready, claiming that he wasn't as old as everyone thought – that he could still pull his own weight, and that being “Papa” didn't mean he couldn't help. But you shushed him, ushering him to the dressing room backstage and told him to let his ghouls work. He huffed but reluctantly agreed, his footsteps silent as he went.

Your fingers ran through Silvanus' hair, tugging at slight knots as you pinned his hair back for him. The stubborn asshole hated the masks your pack wore, calling them impractical. You wished up and down, day in and day out, that Primo's own earth ghoul, Apache, would've gotten his lazy ass up be to part of the band, but it never happened. All he did was stay in his room and sleep. Even when he was out and about, he would fall over himself unconscious. Primo had enough when Apache fell asleep during practice one day, slumping over the drums and knocking everything to the ground, almost injuring Lotus in the process. Papa Nihil's earth ghoul, Silvanus, had stepped in to offer his services, having raised Primo since he was a young child anyway. You hoped that maybe his love for Primo would've transferred over to your pack.

It didn't.

Silvanus was a cold, hostile ghoul that refused to get to know anyone. In fact, when your timid little water ghoul, Lotus, had gone up to Silvanus for a friendly chat, he was automatically shot down. Silvanus made it clear he wasn't interested in chats. He wasn't interested in friends. The only thing he was interested in was helping and supporting Primo. The pack didn't matter. You had huffed, withheld the urge to tear his tongue from his head, and shooed him off with a snarling “Fine, you bastard”. Punishment for attacking your master's father figure wouldn't have been worth it.

As you slipped the last bobby pin into place, pinning down the layers of hair that would've blinded Silvanus in the material mask, you look at him. He's almost done smoking his cigarette, shuffling his deck of black and gold tarot cards. He at least indulged you tonight when you asked about them, saying it had been a gift from Papa Nihil back in '60. A Christmas gift, and his first ever deck that he used almost religiously. He gave you the small look into his past, confessing that he always did a personal reading before a show; his own ritual, in a way.

You look down at the deck, taking a moment.

“Do a pull for me?” you ask, curiosity laced in your voice. The ghoul looks up at you, that tan, pale skin still such a shock to see when you were so used to his ashen-green. He considers it, but continues to shuffle for a little bit. When he finally stops, he slips the card from the top, turning it over to look at it.

The Ace of Cups.

A smirk forms on Silvanus' face as he turns it to you, waving it back and forth slightly.

“Someone's a lucky ghoul,” he purrs teasingly, chuckling softly. “You know this card?”

“I don't know much about tarot,” you confess. Primo did some readings of his own here and there, and he taught his younger brothers. But you never dabbled in it yourself, no matter how many readings your master gave you.

A low hum comes from Silvanus as he looks down at the card again. “It's a very good card, actually. I consider it one of the best. It's all about new beginnings, and it's supposed to symbolize fertility, romance, beauty, and the heart. It can indicate a new relationship, a wedding, or even a new child.”

“Huh...” You stare at the card for a moment before giving him a teasing smile. “You saying that you and I are gonna become mates?”

A disgusted scoff escapes the ghoul as his lips turn into a sneer. “You wish. Just because I did a pull for you and let you pin my hair down doesn't mean I'm interested in taking you out.”

“I'll remember that!” He rolls his eyes, shooing you away. And you do, letting him finish getting dressed as you make your way to Primo's room. You want to make sure everything is ready before the ritual, and you glance down at your phone. You're making good timing, but you never know when something will go wrong. You learned to take the saying “expect the unexpected” to heart, especially living in the abbey.

“Papa?” You knock on the door, waiting patiently for his response. When he tells you to come in, you open the door and pause for a split second. The smell of flowers hit your senses and you feel your heart melt. You move inside the room, shutting the door behind you as you make your way over to Primo. You'd never tell anyone, but you desperately loved the man. He was the best master you'd ever had, and he treated you so well. But you were determined to keep your relationship professional. You were his ghoul, not a potential partner, no matter how much it hurt your little heart.

“How are you, Papa?” He's sitting in front of the mirror, having started to put his papal makeup on. A small smile dances across his lips as he looks at you in the mirror.

“I'm fine, girasole,” A soft chuckle escapes his lips. “Not running around like you.”

“That's how it should be.” You smile back at him, moving to stand close. “Would you like help, Papa?”

“I would love it.” He turns in his chair, looking up at you. You grab the white face paint, setting it in the palm of your hand as you use a finger to gather some of the paint up. You turn, bending down slightly to start applying it to his face, feeling the softness of his skin underneath your touch. This wasn't the first time you've applied his makeup, and you're certain it won't be your last. But truth be told, you loved it. You loved being able to help him, especially when you got to be close with him like this.

“You're such an amazing ghoul,” Primo breathes out contently, his mismatched eyes falling shut as he just barely leans into your touch. He would never know, but all of these soft compliments and praises would make your heart flutter. You absolutely loved being so close to the old man, finding comfort in his scent, in his voice. It always eased your nerves, hearing that rasp in his voice, knowing your master was close by.

“You're thinking, ghoul,” he says softly, bringing you out of your thoughts. “You're not worried about the show, sì?” A soft, playful chortle escapes him. “I must have my closest ghoul confident. I rely on you.”

“Apologies, Papa.” You give him a small, polite bow as you go back to focusing on his makeup. “I suppose I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Tell your Papa.” He gives you a playful smile. “Pretend we're back at the abbey, inside the confessional booth! Confess to me.”

You let out a playful scoff. “I don't remember ever applying your makeup during a confessional, Papa.”

“Ah! Dettaglio!” he scoffs, throwing his hands up. “Tell me, ghoul! I won't be happy until you do.”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. You had seen other ghouls with mates. You had seen humans with lovers and listened to their tales of dates and intimacy. You silently cursed yourself, finally coming to accept your feelings.

“I think I might have fallen for someone, Papa,” you grumble softly, continuing to apply his makeup. A soft hum comes from the old man, signaling you to continue. “I doubt he feels the same way. It's also very unprofessional. I suppose I've just been ignoring and denying my feelings for so long, but... I can't anymore.”

“Oh, it doesn't happen to be Silvanus, does it?” Your face turns up into one of disgust, making Primo laugh loudly.

“I'm only teasing.” A more sincere smile crosses his face. “Tell me about him?”

“He's... important, Papa. Both to me and the church.” How much can you say before you give him away? “I suppose all of the time I spend with him just made me... attached.” Primo lets out a hum, and you decide to continue. “I find myself always excited to work around him. We actually joke quite a bit, and... it's so nice to finally laugh and smile with someone. I'm not used to such... kindness.”

“Mhmm. And this man, this is someone you are close to, sì?”

“Yes, Papa.”

He gazes up at you, mismatched eyes tender and soft as they meet yours. You're almost done with his makeup now, your fingers gentle and slow as you apply the last bit of black paint around his cheek. You know why you're doing it when you snap out of your trance, you subconscious wanting desperately to savor the feeling of his skin under your touch.

“Tell me who it is, ghoul.” Though it's a command, it's not harsh like some other commands have been. It comes out in a soft breath, curiosity lacing his voice as he holds your gaze. Well... no time like the present.

“It's you, Papa.” You're expecting a look of disgust, or maybe even surprise. You're expecting him to shoo you off, curse at you in Italian and send you back to the Pits when the ritual is over. Anything.

What you don't expect is the old man leaning up, pressing his lips softly against yours. You can feel the makeup stain your lips, and while the initial taste is unpleasant, you finally pick up something else; the actual taste of Primo's lips. He tastes sweet, but there's a bitter hint to it, and you can recognize the black tea that he drinks regularly.

It encourages you to eagerly kiss him back, chasing more.

Primo all but pulls you into his lap, letting you straddle him. Your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks. You don't care that you're smudging your hard work. You just need to feel him. All of that time you spent, falling harder and harder for your master; all of the fleeting thoughts of a moment like this, wrapped in his arms as he hungrily presses his lips against yours. Your body is flush against his, both of you trying to get close to one another.

When you both finally pull back, panting softly and having a thin line of saliva connect you two, you see the love and admiration in his eyes. He seems to be at peace, like a weight has finally been lifted off of his shoulders.

“Well, girasole,” he purrs softly, bringing a hand up to gently hold your chin between his thumb and index finger, “I think it's safe to say I return your feelings.”

You don't respond. Instead, you lean forward, catching his lips with your own. You're glad you had extra time to spare. Using it to make out with your master was much better than sitting around and waiting for it be time to perform.

#primo #papa emeritus i #gn!reader #ghoul!reader #primo x reader #papa emeritus i x reader #ghost #ghost band

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aishathetaurus · 2 years

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I said this in a much longer post, but I wanted to dedicate a post to it... but a lot of y'all's hatred towards Luke is just racism. You're racist.

The show's refusal to address race and y'all's obsession with Nick being with June is having an effect on y'all. I mean, you were racist before ever seeing the show, probably, but the show's refusal to just say it outright isn't helping. Its touched on in the book, but not so much in the show or movie... I'll solely address the lack of understanding towards Luke's circumstances and just... leave the whole Osblaine thing alone.

In the book, the racism is just as clear as the misogny. JUST as clear. You barely see black people (and nonwhite people in general, but I'm talking about black people and the book actually touches specifically on black people as well) in this setting simply because in Gilead black people are not allowed unless their ovaries are promising. Black women didn't become handmaids. They were just killed or sent to the colonies, and if they were lucky maybe they'd get to be a Martha. Its silly and naive to think the gendered slavery or horrids stopped at just forcing women to be bastardized surrogates when there's room for so much more horrendous realities, whether it was shown on screen or not. This isn't something you had to read the book to get a grasp on. Its just... heavily implied either way. This isn't saying much because there were few, but most black women we've seen on screen at once is when we saw Unwomen...

Some of us have noticed the few times the show has hinted to how race is being handled and how it affects everything. To some of us, even without those hints, its obvious... The racism of it all is implied actually. Its so implied, it almost, doesn't need to said. However, to most of you? You're oblivious, so it should've been said. Over and over, actually.

Luke is doing the best he can in a system that was literally built to go against him. Even the current system, where the focus is mainly on women, is built against him despite the fact he's a man... he's still black. Imagine the fear of living as black man of America... Now take all the worst parts of America and put them into their own country... Now imagine the fear navigating that... Imagine what the level of fear does to you... Again, this isn't something you'd have to read the book to wrap your head around... There's a lot of pressure on Luke not only as a man, but as a black person and he's clearly just very very scared, as he should be.

With all things considered, he's doing great. He's been doing great this entire time. He didn't ruin anything this episode, nor has he ever. He did what needed to be done. He didn't need permission or extra context. He has never had the time or space to pause, consider context, and be gentle with his wrongdoers the way people like June or Serena has... This being a hard time for women, doesn't erase the reality of how black people are treated. In fact, with so much freedom to treat people however, it just heightens the racism towards black people. Again, not necessarily something you needed to read the book to grasp.

Either way, Serena is a literal war criminal and a serial rapist that stepped foot out of her allowed space. Whether he called or not, immigration was coming for her ass, and he did the right thing by speeding up the process.

After being kidnapped AGAIN... calling immigration and the police on the woman that helped enslave, imprison, and rape his wife was the only option... How do you see that and then still rage? What else was he supposed to do? What are your expectations of him? Not just in this episode or the last, but this whole time... What the hell was he supposed to do as a black man? Try to save her and stick out like a sore black thumb and end up getting himself and June killed?? He's not Nick. There was no helping her. The anger literally doesn't make sense and its getting to the point I have to assume its simply racism.

The inability to understand his circumstances... How harshly he's judged... yeah...

Luke was just as "useless" in the book and 1990's movie, yet its only when it comes to the show, where he's portrayed as a black man, do I see any commentary on how truly "worthless" he is. Its interesting.

#luke bankole #june osborne #the handmaid's tale #handmaid's tale #handmaids tale #so annoying this nuance is missing from the show #its so annoying reading y'all's takes on luke having the understanding i have on how fucking scary it was to be black in gilead #even if i didn't read the book years ago #this is all information i would've gathered just from watching the show and really taking in every scene #just a reminder that majority of this show's audience are white women tbh #this isn't the original story but its the story now #luke in the original story didn't have to navigate any of this #but its the story now so...#anyway #a much needed race analysis #we cannot just pretend that him being black doesn't play a role in this story just because the writers weren't outright with it #its a story based on a real country that really had slavery and is actually violently misogny #if luke is gonna be black in the show then it has to be acknowledged when doing an analysis #it means something and it was a choice #black people played a role in the original story and it would be a disservice to ignore this reality now #especially when its been hinted at multiple times

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dirtytransmasc · 1 year

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Rhaenyra is the rightful heir, do u support team green also because you think that aegon's claim is stronger because he is a man?

honestly, succession doesn't matter all that much to me, I'm not a political person even when it comes to fantasy shows. but let me have a spin at explaining my take.

Rhaenyra was the true heir, she was the first born and she was the named heir, I agree with that fully. but with the way we see her act, I personally don't think she would have been a good queen. she tends to expect a lot of others, give little in return except she she's desperate for aid, and picks self benefit over what's best for the realm (having multiple bastards, "killing off" her husband in place of another that will weaken her ally ship with the velaryon's, running of to dragonstone, etc.) and then will harm those who threaten to topple her house of cards (putting the blame and wanting the torture of a child after her own son cut out his eye, asserting her son onto the Driftmark throne even when he had no claim, killing an innocent man who stated a simple fact, etc.). I think she would have ruled with fear and very irresponsibly. at the end of the day, my thing is, is that Rhaenyra was never prepared for the throne and was coddled (that's Viserys's issues) and she was unfit for the throne because she could never seem to out the realm before her and her children. Daemon is also insanely cruel and rouge and Rhaenyra refuses to put him on a fucking leash which is another massive problem (if he could stop killing people that would be great in my opinion)

Now, do I think Aegon has a better claim cause he's male? no, I think men and women are equally capable of ruling. do I think Aegon would be any better? no not really. I do think that with the counsel of his mother, who served in Viserys's place for years and always thought of everyone else (the court, house, allied houses, and the realm while also thinking about image, money, etc), his wife (who was beloved by the people and had their interests in mind), Aemond (who was an excellent warrior and was well studied for the task of being king), Otto (if he could pull his head out of his ass was one of the best hands. key word, if, but it stands for something. he understood and played the game of politics for years), and Criston (he definitely wasn't made to be hand, no matter how much I love him, but he was always a good inside ally to the greens) could help him rule much better than Daemon could for Rhaenyra and many of her allies were similarly not well suited (most not all). again, Aegon and his court would be far from perfect, but they were much better suited for the task in my opinion.

but at the end of the day, the Targaryen dynasty was crumbling, rotting away day by day. I don't think either side could have saved it, I think both had flaws that were ingrained to their core. while Aegon's line might have kept it alive a wee bit longer, it wouldn't be substantial. war and bloodshed was biting at their heels and total death and destruction hovered over their shoulders.

neither was fit to be heir. Rhaenyra being the rightful heir by both birthright and by claim through Viserys doesn't make up for her not being fit. Aegon having a cock doesn't make up for him being unfit. that's the moral of the story.

I'm not pro green cause I think Aegon deserved the throne, I'm team green cause they're more interesting in my opinion, they also just happen to be my pick if I'm forced to pick a side in the war.

in a perfect world they would have come together as an actual godforsaken family, say their overdue apologies, strengthen the house as a whole, made up for the years of infighting and ruled together through Rhaenyra, that personally what I want, but it'll never happen in a million years. so yeah, that's my take on the succession war. throughout the whole timeline I may shift closer to one side than the other, but 90% of the time I was with team green, even when I wanted nothing more for Aegon to be allowed to run away to essos

#we're going off only the show here #just to clarify #no one could save that house at that point #not truly #so I think the whole “who should have claimed the thrown” thing is kinda stupid #cause I could argue all day why neither deserved it #but if I had to pick #id go with the greens cause they seem the most capable #considering they were always undigging the graves they were thrown into (for the most part) unlike Rhaenyra digging hers deeper and deeper #till she realized she was fucked and then making it eveyone around her's issue #neither would have ruled well but Aegons court would have ruled better #by just a smidge #not enough to save the house though #they might have seen another generation or two of true rulers to the the throne but that would be it in my opinion #it would have fallen to the same shit show that it did after the war in canon until the house collapsed in on itself #you can bicker and bicket for days about it #who should have ruled. who caused the war. who's to blame. who's this who's that but honestly. does it really matter?#it was fucked ever since Viserys was crowned #thats where the succession crisis started #viserys fed those flames with his idiocy and neglect till the flames became a wild fire that destroyed everything it touched #pro team green #anti team black #anti rhaenyra targaryen #(precautionary tags for my own mental well being)#aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #dance of the dragons #hotd #house of the dragon

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plantwriting · 2 months

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Rereading the "Rolan and Rand catch Kian with Jesse" oneshot rn. Just like for fun. This is genuinely so good how did I write this. Collection of my favorite lines from the fic under the cut because im genuinely proud of it and wanna show it off again

"Kian Stone was an act, a performance, a character built up to hide the pieces of Kian that would leave him as nothing but that nameless child again if they ever came to light. Kian Stone was a pretty face, a nice voice, a fun personality, a rockstar. All the pieces of Kian that could be loved. A perfect mask to make people want to be near him without getting close enough to notice the small cracks in it." IT SURE FUCKING IS god he's so fucking convinced that people could only ever care about him for who he pretends to be rather than who he is aghhhh

"Nobody else would be willing to deal with all of his baggage, all of the frankly pathetic pieces of him that Rand and Rolan were willing to put up with." i dont think i even did that on purpose. kian doesnt think they love him. or care about him. he thinks that even they just put up with who he really is. not that they could actually fully care about him as a person. god. fuck.

"God was a fucking bastard. An all-knowing, all-powerful, all-loving creator, who knew very well this was all the nameless child he’d made would become. He’d known very well that Kian would become just another sinner, cast out of the light of heaven and into the torment of hell. Why make him at all if that was the only fate that could await him? Why bother creating Lucifer Morningstar if God knew he would fall?" WHAT DO YOU MEAN I WROTE THAT??? HOW. WHAT. my magnum opus for real jesus fucking christ

"He wished he could have had both of them here with him, his best friends, his first loves, his everything. The two people who got to see him as a full person, and still loved him anyways. He could imagine it so clearly, Rand’s rough and thick hands holding him steady as Rolan’s slender ones explored each piece of him, the taste of alcohol and weed and smoke on his tongue as they took turns kissing him, how they’d take him, need him, love- 'What the fuck?!'" evil.... evil evil evil heheehehehehe fuck i love it so so much >:)

"His best friends, who stepped closer towards Kian, still frozen in place where he stood. Who were staring at him with so much disgust and hatred. Who’d just seen him and Jesse making out in a filthy alleyway between the hardware store and the gas station. Who looked so unfairly beautiful in the pale moonlight." he's so scared and so panicked and thinks theyre literally about to kill him and yet. he cant help but still think about how beautiful they are. look at this fucking gay ass fucker wow

"(Kill him) For tricking them into being friends with something like him." something. someTHING. not even someone like him, no, he doesnt get that luxury. the luxury of being considered human. he doesnt even allow that much to himself, hes something, hes not a person, hes. aghhhhhhhh and it only gets worse when he gets older.... to the point where he sees rolan as more human than herself... agh

"They had every right to be upset, to hate him, to want him fucking dead. He deserved whatever they would throw at him, and he’d take it, he’d let it happen. But he could at least do it as someone better than Kian." and the fact that he cant understand that thats what they want him to be. not a rockstar, just kian. they just want him as a person. but it doesn't fit with how he sees the world so he refuses to accept it

"'You coming? Or are you just going to fucking stand there for the rest of the night?' He looked to Rand, who’d stopped walking and was now just standing at the end of the alleyway, looking back at Kian." Fun fact! I couldn't decide whether I should have Rand still offer to drive him home or not. Like would his care for Kian override the disgust he felt? I wasn't sure. So I rolled a die! Can you believe that this shit could have been even angstier than it ended up?? wild

"He wanted to sit in Rand’s attic bedroom and talk about stupid shit with him and fall asleep on the spare mattress set on the floor near Rand’s bed. He wanted to wake up to Donna telling them that breakfast was ready, and race Rand downstairs to get to the kitchen first. He wanted to listen to Rachel talk about space or science stuff or any of the other things he was too fucking stupid to understand, and then tell her about music in return. He wanted to stay somewhere that actually felt like home, with an actual family, that didn’t have the smell of incense barely covering that of rotting food and whatever drugs his parents had gotten their hands on. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be at home. He didn’t want to be alone." pretty sure this was the first thing in a fanfic i wrote that made me cry. just. the desperate need for something that should have been such a given. for family, for love, for just any amount of care from others. and he thinks hes lost it forever. he thinks he DESERVES to lose it forever. god. why did i do that to him i didnt have to but well. i did.

"He stepped inside after her, instantly overwhelmed to the point of nausea as the smell of mold and rot and whatever else he didn’t even want to guess hit his nose. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clean in way too long since his parents always got pissy about him going through their stuff, and they hadn’t actually gone out anywhere in several weeks. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle the filth he was forced to live in." knowing his future living situations as well.... ah. delicious delicious angst :3

"But he didn’t deserve to be Kian Stone. He didn’t even deserve to be Kian. He deserved to be nothing, that nameless and unlovable child, who’d spent so many nights crying alone in this exact same room, trying to block out his parents’ sounds as they did the same with his cries. Kian Stone was attractive, Kian Stone was popular as much as he was hated, Kian Stone was a rockstar. Kian was fun, Kian was a caring and good friend, Kian was a music lover with the skills to actually make something that sounded nice. Kian Stone was someone worthy of admiration. Kian was someone worthy of attention. He wasn’t either of those things. He wasn’t worth anything." he can never see himself as deserving of love and affection because he cant even see himself as a person :D

"He stood up carefully, taking support from the wall next to him to avoid falling over. A part of him was nervous about leaving his room like this. Of his parents seeing what he’d done to himself. But a far bigger part of him was extremely aware that they wouldn’t give a shit even if they noticed. And there was a very, very small part that hoped that they would. That still wished they’d care." he still wishes that theyd care. hell forever wish that theyd care. theyre his parents, theyre supposed to love him, so why wont they? maybe they hate themselves for it just as much as he hates them (not enough)

"He couldn’t play D&D with them anymore. He’d never get to see the end of the campaign that Rand had planned for them, he couldn’t yell at the dungeon master with Rolan when he threw some absolute bullshit at them that got their favorite npc killed, couldn’t see the sketches Rand made of the characters and the monster they fought. Couldn’t theorize about everything going on with Rolan, couldn’t tell Becky about everything that had happened afterwards, his set of dice would end up collecting dust in the small box underneath his bed with no reason for them to be used anymore." ......was i thinking about how in canon they never got to finish the campaign in the end? maybe :)

"He really could not understand what Rolan’s problem with Jesse seemed to be. He knew neither of his friends had ever really liked him, mostly because in their eyes he was just an asshole jock amongst other asshole jocks, but Rand had always been the one that actually seemed to dislike him before. Obviously it made sense that they might have had something against him now that they knew he was gay, but… still." Rolan's being jealousssss and he doesn't even realize ittttttt because that would require accepting that the reason he got uncomfortable seeing Kian and Jesse making out wasn't because that's gross but because he wished he would've been in Jesse's placeeeeeeeee

"He couldn’t let them find out the truth. Not ever. He wasn’t losing them, he couldn’t lose them, they were almost all that he had. He’d rather die than live a life without them, he couldn’t fucking go back to being completely alone, unloved and either hated or ignored by everyone. He needed them to be worth anything, nobody else could ever truly care for him. And if they found out, then they couldn’t care for him either." hey. hey do you. do you think hes ever fully let go of that? That he ever moved on from the idea that if they found out he loved them, they'd cut him out for good? at the point of the therapy series rand doesn't even remember saying it. he doesn't remember implying something like that. but kian sure does <3

Just. Wow this fic is the best thing ive ever written. kiangst my beloved. i cant wait to draw parallels to this oneshot when- *gets shot before i can give any spoilers*

#wow this is a long post sorry about that #but to be fair #its also a long fic #if anyone hasnt read it id genuinely recommend it #you dont need any context from my other fics #i think its genuinely the best fic ive written #(if youre interested. the second chapter of 'Blood in the bayou one-shots' on ao3 :3)#(i should change the name of that to be something more fun if you have any suggestions let me know)

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klonoadreams · 2 years

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Since Hilbert thinks his twin was a stillborn, does that ever affect him growing up? Like it's a touchy subject and what ifs

Even after Sawyer, they don't have a way to definitely prove that they're related, but imagine it's one of those "$25 blood test kits! See your ancestry!" they did as a joke to fill in a sleepover and BAM

Pokemon center has a Hilbert in the corner, going through all stages of grief at once, Cheren's trying to ignore the situation by talking awkwardly to his pokemon, Bianca was asleep, so she wakes up and why is Hilbert crying?

hvjrkhjbkb SO LIKE, there's an added layer to all of this on Touya/Hilbert's end, because despite everything, he always FELT like someone should be there. and it's a bit of a touchy subject because he never found out through his parents, but through a third party source that was being too damn intrusive for their own good.

Which is never a good thing, when you bring up the fact that he is SUPPOSED to be a twin, but what the actual FUCK. Now he KNOWS about it and has to deal with the, "who should be here with me?"

And it BOTHERS him. Especially whenever he comes across other twins. And he's like, on playdates with Cheren and Bianca, but he's still just "what if they were here?" and it just REFUSES to leave his mind. And sometimes, he just thinks, "Why me?"

This is brought to you by what I ended up doing to the BW player characters regarding their family ties, with Alder being their Dad (which will forever stay a constant because lmaooo).

Often, for his safety, the identity of his dad is kept a secret (if you know, you know), but that doesn't stop some people from calling him a bastard child, even THOUGH HIS DAD IS FINE, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. He's just kinda aimless, given the fact that one of the two children he had was a stillborn, and then one of his Pokemon died to an illness?????

LIKE CAN YOU IMAGINE WHAT THAT DOES TO A PERSON??? So he just often wanders aimlessly, usually visiting during holidays, birthdays, or whenever he's in the area (surprisingly, a lot more often than you'd think, since his feet usually take him home when he's not at the League). He's a good dad otherwise....

...

Oh right - Benga. So here's the thing.... Let me go on a weird, long-ass tangent that is AAAALL related to this. I swear, it's relevant, it's just gonna be massive, so I'mma put a read more

fun fact: I had the "Alder is the Player Character's Dad" thing in my fanfic done BEFORE BW2 was released (meaning there was a gap of time after BW released both in Japan, and later, outside of Japan), and if you know how things were before X and Y, this means we HAD to wait after BW2 released in Japan before we got translations, so patches existed for roms (that is how I VERY much played Black and White first, by the way, it was the first Pokemon game I followed since its release in Japan) to hold us through until the official English localization released.

Originally, I had this elaborate situation because I legitimately thought Benga was Alder's son (before I later found out that, nope, grandson - again, translation to localization situation, it wasn't as convenient as it is now), where Benga was just from a previous fling that his Mama kept from Alder, until oops, "hey, I know I was kinda a dick before for ghosting you all of these years, but I'm dying...can you take him in?"

Now, I'm just looking at that, going, "you know what, Mama can fucking get it, being a Trainer who went on her own journey." She knows what she wants, and if landing the Unovan Champion as a husband is a feasible goal for her, then of course she'd go after it.

I like to think Mama was built different and had her own elaborate journey, where she spent at least ten years on her journey, just traveling around, dealing with whatever news she heard coming from overseas regions about criminal organizations, just absentmindedly collecting badges like "I should do that while I'm here" and then forgetting about everything else, like she's in an open world environment (like it's Scarlet and Violet, where I just went around, getting distracted by everything or in the case of my friends, going around catching everything on sight and also getting into areas they LIKELY shouldn't be in).

Truly an example of "We shouldn't have let ten year olds go on their own in this dangerous region" because by the time Touya/Hilbert is able to go on his journey, he's 14 - because that's the actual age limit (if you wish to go alone on a journey), added in to lower the trainer mortality rate (and region-wide concerns). Because LISTEN, there be Hydreigon in the wild and other mons that are capable of being hostile.

Anyways Mama was like 20 before she even caught wind of the Champion. Dude's only had the title for maybe a few years now - hard to say, since she was lowkey off the grid, because she was too busy catching Pokemon to help out her father and older sister with the Pokedex. Just field research to add more consistent variables to their data.

Like again, she was super casual on the Gym Badge side of being a Trainer - she just did her own thing before realizing, "I should try the League." and got the rest of her badges at the side. I mean it helps that she FINALLY ran into Alder. The stars fucking aligned, because Mama went "AWOOGA" and just her luck, Alder was single.

Anyways it took her like six years to get that ring on her finger, because Alder really was, "dude, there are better men out there - WHY ME" But nah, Mama picked him and wouldn't stop challenging him. She never really beat him in an official League battle, but she still did kick his ass every so often. Which, in the Pokemon World, is like a good way to appear attractive to others. :V

Where Benga comes into play, it's called Alder was a reckless older teenager that got into flings, like all teenagers tend to do. And being Pokemon Trainers adds another layer of recklessness. So you got two seventeen year olds just doing stuff like having one night flings that don't go anywhere...

Except oops, there's a baby, but whatever, orphanage time. Buh bye - there's no child support to collect from some rando one night stand, so PEACE. And then she left for an overseas region, never to be heard from again.

Seventeen years later, history repeats itself - only this time, the Baby Mama doesn't exactly make it through the birth like her bio mama, so now Alder is just being called up to collect his grandson - because SURPRISE, you're not only a father, but also, a GRANDFATHER. And by this point, the Champion Title makes it difficult to just keep this kid in an orphanage, so uhhh...take him. "You're like the closest living relative we can track down"

Anyways you know how Alder said there are better men? Yeah, he's like 34, with a grandchild to raise. And thankfully, he's pretty good at what he does - but STILL...A GRANDFATHER - why the hell does this lady want to go after him, when he has a grandson???

Anyways two years later, after one wedding and pair of rings, Benga is excited at the concept of being an older brother of sorts (really, he is an older nephew - AGAIN, it's complicated). And while things go south for one of the twins, he still does have Touya/Hilbert and they're raised together, even if Benga is a bit more feral due to Alder's influence.

All this mess, just to say that there's a lot going on with Touya/Hilbert - him thinking he was the surviving twin is just the proverbial cherry on top, given how much of a soap opera his life has become.

Really, him finding out about Sawyer is gonna blow his mind, but also make him all the more protective, after all the bullshit he's gone through. Genuinely just sobbing his eyes out, having a near melt down, maybe also even punching out Team Plasma too (physically with his fists) because WHAT DID THEY DO TO HIS SISTER. JUST LOOK AT HER.

She absolutely MELTED when she received a hug. The way she got emotional over a BIRTHDAY surprise. THE TRAUMA.

What's more, in that likely scenario, he can't just SAY that to her, like...without preparation. And while it was mostly a joke, because "lmao, we look alike, let's see if we're related in some way" before the truth is revealed.

And now Touya/Hilbert has this massive truth bomb to ease Sawyer into. LIKE

Being Touya/Hilbert is suffering.

#ask #pokemon #pokemon black and white #touya #hilbert #sawyer (oc)#alder #with friends like these (fanfic)#TEN YEARS Y'ALL #TEN FUCKING YEARS #things might have changed #but it seems that I still have a sort of soft spot to whatever mess of complications i decided to slap onto the BW player characters #feel free to ask me about sawyer #this is a mess lmaooo #BUT IT'S MY MESS

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simp4ace · 3 years

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One Piece short hc: Kill That Cockroach PLEASE!!!😨

a/n: so thanks to some cockroaches this idea popped up in my head when I was screaming my lungs out lmao. just some very short hcs I try to finish before 1 am.

scene: Screaming and asking them to kill that abhorrence

Monkey D. Luffy

Doesn't understand why you are so scared because of that little things? Why the fuss?

Will catch the cockroach with bare hands but refuse to kill it

Thinks it's just as cute as a beetle and even names it Hercules lol

There's a good chance he'll ask Usopp to catch a few more for a cockroach sumo festival...

Until Nami shows up and kicks their ass and stops this madness (she is the goddess)

-100/10, never ask Luffy to kill a cockroach for you, or you will be unable to hold his hand for a long long time or die because of a heart attack, either way, 💔

Roronoa Zoro

He doesn't even bat an eye with all the screaming and yelling

Calmly draw his swords out and swsh! rip the cockroach💀

You even feel sorry for it, being sliced into pieces

After that, he would sit down and continue sleeping as if nothing had happened

But don't you be fooled because of that coolness, he's probably chuckling smugly as you stand there in awe and then admiringly tell everyone how heroic he is (because killing a cockroach is somewhat a considerable amount of merit for humanity)

Cause aw, Zoro is just lowkey flex, but only for you. All and all, 100/10 for our swordsman

Portgas D. Ace

Such a reliable and cute guy, so when he hears the first scream from you, there he is, flying all the way from the other side of the deck to you

No one ever has the right to frighten his lover, even a cockroach, he will not forgive it.

Become overly enthusiastic about annihilating cockroaches, most likely end up smashing some walls or setting things on fire.

Either way, eventually that obnoxious thing will be roasted in the fire, and Ace will proudly look at you waiting for your compliment, surrounded him is a pile of rubbers from the raid.

Knowing too well that you two will be scolded by Marco after this, but for now, just-just kiss and hug him as a thank you ok? because he deserves so 💕

10-1/10 for the damage.

Sabo

Normally, he's very cute and all, but at times like this, he really is the worst, dammit

Loves seeing you nervously hide behind him, frantically call for help; he's into that poor look on your face so much that he wants to tease you a little more by doing nothing ?

It's only when you hug him tremblingly, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes filled with tears of supplication, that he will kill the cockroach for you

Traditional guys, kill it with an insect swatter, and with one blow only

Demands kiss from you after it, and even though he's such a bastard, the fact is he still saves you from that scary thing is enough to forgive him. Sometimes that one kiss may even progress to something else 👀

10+1/10 for things that happen afterward lmao

Trafalgar Law

Sighs and sighs a lots

Knows very well from the start why there's howling on his ship at 2am. "Must be y/n-ya *sigh*"

Shows up just in time to "ROOM" that disgusting creature out of your room and throw it into the sea, letting the water pressure do the rest

Acting cranky and disinterested as you hug him and chirped happily but deep down, he's really enjoying it (tsundere confirmed)

As in fact, he can easily disinfect the whole submarine and kill all the cockroaches but no, he prefers you to look for him, rely on him, and kiss him for saving your life more 😏

What a sly guy, but well, 10/10 for the quick action, as long as you are not touched by that, everything is fine.

Sanji

Uhm, no ? YOU are the one who is going to kill the cockroach, not him...

He's just as scared of cockroaches as you are, maybe even worse

Gonna scream with you

Even though he's really scared, he'd still want to be your knight, would try his best to come near the cockroach without crying out loud, but when it starts to fly

Gonna scream with you p2

"IT IS COMING THIS WAY DO SOMETHING SANJI!!!"

"BUT Y/N THAT THING IS FLYING! IT IS FLYING!"

"JDCBERHGERCEBE" "HJCDVBEERVGEVREV" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

At the end of the day, it's Robin who saves the world for both of you. She just calmly pick up the cockroach by her devil fruit ability and smash it and smiles gleefully as you two throw yourselves to her and hug her, crying your eyes out

0/10, Sanji might be your prince but when it comes to insects in general, he's just a baby🥺

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teaboot · 4 years

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Okay I'm canadian and I don't even read newspapers or anything but just through osmosis I have learned

1. The time Trump made such a big deal about his teeny tiny baby hands that it became an international meme

2. The time Trump paid off a porn star with campaign money and we all found out he had a piss kink

3. The time Trump, on camera, mocked a disabled reporter

4. The time he called Mexican people Animals

5. "Grab Her By The Pussy"

6. Covfefe

7. The time he was wrong about the direction a hurricane was headed but he refused to admit it so he took a sharpie marker to a storm map to add in the wrong thing he said

8. That thing with the big pile of big Macs in the white house? What the fuck was that about

9. That Christmas where Melanoma decorated the white house hallway to look like the entry to Krampus' sex dungeon

10. The time Trump was attacked by Uncle Sam, the bald eagle of freedom

11. When he straight up told people to drink bleach

12. That one interview where a reporter asked him if he had a message for american citizens who may be frightened or confused, and instead of saying anything remotely compassionate he took the opportunity to rip into the dude and call him a shitty reporter

13. Openly kissing Putin's ass

14. Openly kissing Kim Jong Un's ass

15. The Wall

16. When his son got caught stealing money from a charity for kids with cancer

17. When he forgot his daughter Tiffany's name on TV

18. When he straight up said he was sexually attracted to his daughter

19. Appointing his entire family to official positions in the white house despite none of them being qualified or competant

20. Golf???????

21. "I Love Mexicans". *Taco Salad Bowl*

22. The time he bragged that his dick was huge

23. The time he denied knowing a convicted sex trafficking pedophile despite the fact that he's been photographed having drinks with him periodically over the last 30 years

24. "Nasty Woman"

25. "Fake News"

26. "China Disease"

27. That one global conference where the leader of fucking every other country there refused to shake hands with him

28. The one journalist who spent like a year trying to uncover his collusion with Russia only to have his work blown to shit when the Trumps just. Tweeted it all out

29. Nuclear Strike Warning on Hawaii

30. The asshole himself getting Covid

31. ??? Holy shit I'm at 31 already what the fuck how is this bastard still alive????

31. Uhhhh FUCK that shooting where he said if he'd been there, he would have stopped the shooter himself

32. Bone Spurs

33. That one incomprehensible phone call where he lied about cutting some kind of deal with some king or what the shit????

34. Appointing his limp dip shit son in law to "make peace with the middle east"????? SOMEHOW?????

35. The time he said he wished the American people showed respect for him like they do for Kim Jong Un in north korea????????!???

36. WHEN HE SAID HE WAS GOING TO REFUSE TO LEAVE OFFICE????

37. WHEN HE FUCKING ***FIRED***** THE HEAD OF THE FBI

38. CoNcENTRATiON CAMpS MOTHER FucKInG **BITCH ******SHIT*****

#Current events #Trump #Politics #Please God Above please vote

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thanksjro · 2 years

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More Than Meets the Eye #43 — Swerve’s Terminal Case of Sad Bitch Disease

Y’all ever think about how IDW Publishing has a DeviantArt? Because I think about that sometimes.

Anyway, I know you’re are only here for Wife Mode Cyclonus, so let’s just get on with it.

You fucking horny bastards.

So weirdly enough, this comic about giant space robots doesn’t start with giant space robots. Or in space. Instead, we find ourselves on the set of the apartment from beloved mid-90s/early 2000s sitcom Friends. It’s a pretty faithfully detailed background, too. No wonder Milne needed help with inks on this issue.

On the couch is a toddler wearing some safety goggles, while a woman in Victorian dress stares out the window. The toddler complains about how she’s got nothing to do, save for reading More Than Meets The Eye, though even that she finds confusing.

Imagine needing to check the wiki for your Transformers lore. Couldn’t be me.

(It could be, and is very frequently.)

The Victorian woman comments that the comic didn’t capture her likeness very well, but the toddler disagrees. The Victorian woman then gripes about Rung, Skids, and Bluestreak having been MIA for the last six hours. Yes, this lady in fancy dress is actually Cyclonus, and the toddler is Tailgate; we’re having a holomatter adventure, and everyone’s gotten hot new looks, because Guido Guidi isn’t on this issue! Instead, we have our standard artist, Alex “Same Face Syndrome” Milne.

Toddlergate gets a message from Rodimus, who texts like my mom, asking what the hell is going on down there. In New York City. Because they’re in the Friends apartment. Also, apparently he has a Swerve emoji in his phone. Does he have emojis of all his crew, or is Swerve special? Many questions that will never be addressed again will arise in this issue.

There’s a knock at the door, and Serving Cuntclonus lets in the rest of the search team.

Skids what the FUCK is your face doing

Cuntclonus yells at the three for having gotten caught up in the neighbors’ antics, because they’ve got a search and rescue mission on their hands. Everyone agrees to having no more distractions, and then Sir Rungington VII’s paint gun goes off, hitting Cuntclonus in the face. The story’s cold open ends, I’m assuming so Cuntclonus can tear Sir Rungington VII limb from limb, and we get our opening credits.

That’s right— opening credits.

We get two whole pages devoted to a sitcom-style opener, introducing the cast we’ve seen so far, alongside some fun panels from previous issues, assumedly set to some upbeat, non-offensive music, then we jump back in time to Megatron calling for Swerve to come to the bridge of the Lost Light. Rodimus enters, asking what’s going on, and Megatron informs him that the ship is being chased by a planet. Rodimus takes a moment to process this info, then notices that the planet chasing them is, in fact, Earth! Weird, since they’re nowhere near there. Blaster plays the only clue to what the hell is going on for his captains, and we get an idea of why Swerve needs to get his little ass to the bridge.

Believe it or not, Earth’s chasing the ship Never thought it had flight capability Flying through space, it’s a vacuum, no air Who could it be? Believe it or not it’s just Swerve

But how did Swerve do this? And why? Somebody go find the bastard so we can get some answers!

Thank you, Skids.

Before Skids interrupted just there, First Aid was having a moment with Tailgate, only slightly marred by Tailgate’s refusal to stop straddling his hoverboard. It turns out First Aid’s about to leave the Lost Light, on orders from Optimus Prime to fuck off into another comic run. I’m sure First Aid will be completely unchanged by the experience, certainly not joining any weird magic polycules, but it sucks for Velocity, who is now the only practicing medical doctor on the whole ship. Girl failed her exams nine times, hope she’s up to the challenge of handling the health and bodily integrity of a ship the size of friggin’ Manhattan.

But anyway, something’s wrong with Swerve. He’s in rough shape physically, though his brain activity is going absolutely bonkers. First Aid predicts that the guy’s got a couple days at most before he dies, and he’s got no idea why, since there’s no sign of injury that he can find. Rodimus (who showed up to be told the bad news) thinks this is strange, because this is the same day as the dance party, and we all saw that Swerve was there and feeling well enough to host, right up until he phased out of reality. Nightbeat cuts in here (he’s also in the medibay, for the purpose of being nosy) to say that the Swerve at the dance party was actually a holomatter avatar, which is why he phased out in the first place; it coincided with Swerve's current state hitting critical mass.

Swerve is also projecting the Earth that’s following the Lost Light, and the friggin’ thing is partially populated with human avatars. No wonder his brain is cooking inside his head; I can barely keep track of myself, let alone the entire populace of NYC.

After taking a moment to reconsider the direction his life has taken, Rodimus calls for volunteers to fill out the search team, who we’ve already seen. Though dubious about this whole situation, they agree to go down and see how hostile Swearth is. Brainstorm (who is also here, because the holomatter program is his baby, and it’s not like the guy on house arrest is gonna tell his captain no) warns the gang that projecting the 400 mile distance to Swearth might hurt, and also maybe kill them.

The team pops on their avatars, Bluestreak reminds us that he went to Earth during the eruption of modern internet culture, no one knows what a 101 class is, and Rodimus again reconsiders the direction his life has taken.

We cut back to the scene in the Friends apartment, where Skidstopher Eccleston has taken to drinking, and Toddlergate appears to have a sippy cup that looks an awful lot like Cyclonus. And not a Getaway-shaped thing in sight. I think we know who end game is going to be.

Obviously, Huffer/Xaaron.

Anyway, Toddlergate is telling the gang about the comic she’s still reading. She’s is currently on #21, when Swerve opened the time case. If you don’t remember him doing this on-panel, it’s because Swore Swan Sweets Swe Sweye is from Swerve’s perspective, as opposed to being omnipresent.

This is the point where Bluestreak 2005 comes in, the troublesome neighbors in tow.

I’m sure these three men named after sitcom characters and encompassing different aspects of Swerve aren’t plot-important at all!

They immediately start tearing into each other, Sheldon and Ted berating Jerry over sabotaging their work for the LOLs. Jerry in turn implies that Ted lacks the faith needed to actually go make an impact in the world, and that Sheldon isn’t doing nearly enough with what is supposed to be his life’s purpose. Skidstopher Eccleston tells them all to shut the fuck up, then has Bluestreak 2005 take a call from Rodimus. But not just any Rodimus. This is 80s Mullet, 4-Shirts At Once Rodimus.

Oh Milne what the fuck is thissssssss

Not that this isn’t in-character for Rodimus “Surfs on Meteors for Funsies” of Nyon, it’s just… I feel like there was a cleaner way to get this visual information across. Maybe didn’t need ALL the shirts. At least Trenchcoat Nightbeat looks cool. And his skin is colored like an actual human being, and isn’t literally the same color as asphalt like we got in All Hail Megatron. Thanks, Lafuente!

Swearth isn’t a one-to-one facsimile of Earth, as it’s revealed there’s an omnipotent laugh track that goes off anytime someone says something that could be seen as an attempt at a joke. Bluestreak 2005 goes on to explain more of the sitcom weirdness soaked into the foundation of Swearth, probably deeply regretting having galactic wi-fi set up for the ship at this point. Mullet Rodimus points out that their non-Swearth-related life is also pretty weird, then hangs up to go help an old man cross the street.

Mullet Rodimus makes a weird little dig at PeePaw Megatron’s cane, then they decide to hit the bars, to see if Swerve is hiding out in his chosen career path.

Back over at the Friends apartment, Bluestreak 2005 is getting the neighbors’ locked door situation fixed, while Skidstopher Eccleston has a moment of crisis with Sir Rungington VII, because he never went to Swerve’s room in all the years he’s known him. He only ever saw Swerve at the bar, or during ship-wide adventure nonsense, never sought him out just for the hell of it. Maybe if he had, Swerve’s months of hiding in his room rotting away wouldn’t have become the now-critical nightmare that it is.

Toddlergate pops in to say that the comic book finally got to issue #43, and man is the Story So Far a doozy!

Brainstorm is gonna fucking strangle him.

So, Swerve is using MTMTE to communicate his situation, as best he understands it, to those who might come looking for him. Awesome! But we still have to find the guy.

Lol, just kidding, he was literally across the hall this entire time.

Milne that’s not hOW FUCKING GLASSES WORK YOU GOON

Over at the bar, Peepaw Megatron laments his faded youth, while Overalls Nautica explores her death wish, by way of trying to tickle the bastard who killed everyone in NYC. Peepaw Megatron has a moment of reflection on the nature of humanity, after getting a cut on his hand, but nobody gives a shit about whether he’s cool with humans or not, so Rodimus cuts in to let everyone know that Swerve is not cooperating with the Not Letting Swerve Die mission.

Back in the Friends apartment, Crisis on Infinite Swerves admits that he doesn’t know what’s wrong with him physically that could be causing him to fucking die. Sir Rungington VII gets lost in the psychoanalyzing sauce, but Skidstopher Eccleston gives not a fuck about that. He only cares about Swerve’s impending death! He grabs Crisis on Infinite Swerves by the face like he’s gonna kiss him, and tells him to stop burying the pain so they can help.

Toddlergate butts in, stating that Swerve is stuck doing Rungian re-experience therapy, a thing that was mentioned way back in issue #13 as being a thing Swerve did when life got stressful. The cocktail of being sad over his demotion from main cast, angry about Megatron boarding the ship, and exposure to several Brainstorm inventions made it so that his self soothing manifested outwards into the real world, after months of isolating himself from his peers. Why Sir Rungington VII, who was also there for that conversation, didn’t consider this possibility, is unclear, but it’s probably because he’s bad at his job.

This is where Cuntclonus cuts in, telling Crisis on Infinite Swerves that despite his many faults, people still care about him, the entire Lost Light crew having projected to Swearth as part of this search mission.

Now knowing that he hasn’t faded away from everyone’s minds, Swerve can finally acknowledge the pain, and Crisis on Infinite Swerves’s shoulder begins to bleed in the shape of an Autobot insignia. Hooray, we found the issue! Drinks all around!

Later, we see First Aid on the shuttle to “Combiner Wars”, on the phone with Velocity discussing the aftermath of Swearth. Velocity had cut into into Swerve’s shoulder, revealing a rust infection that had gone untreated for years. As they talk, First Aid looks through the tablet Tailgate gave him as a goodbye present. There’s a picture of him with Ratchet, Ambulon, and a smiley-face drone, and then a picture of Ironfist and Swerve that sets off his “I need to be weird about people’s badges to impress Springer and his giant boobs” senses.

Before he can fly out of the reception zone, First Aid tells Velocity to cut Swerve’s shoulder open again. The one where the infection was. The one he patched up after running into the DJD. The one where he used to have an Autobot badge. The one where he got shot by Agent 113, with a bullet containing vital information.

I mean, yeah, no shit. She hasn’t sewn him back up yet!

#transformers #MTMTE #issue 43 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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