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me when i make a come back once a month with a small blurb/scenario for price or simon and then disappear again
#my writing abilities/drive disappear#maybe its my adhd or depression i dont know#maybe i need to force myself to read again for like 3 weeks straight to feel inspired#and then that will kickstart my writing hyperfixation again
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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa
summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.
contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total
notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3
𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .
there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.
your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.
the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.
the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.
chuuya kills them all — except for one.
the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.
“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.
he can feel the man swallowing.
chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.
“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.
he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.
the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.
how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.
finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.
chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.
“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.
limply, they fall to the floor.
chuuya rushes over to you.
the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.
“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.
“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?���
it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”
guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.
he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…
“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”
he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”
“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.
“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”
“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”
"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.
finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”
𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .
the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.
with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.
though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.
he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.
“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.
but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.
but you… you’re different.
“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”
akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.
he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.
there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.
mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.
as regrettable as that may be.
akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.
“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.
“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.
even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.
akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.
what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.
and he can’t do that if you’re dead.
finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.
akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.
a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.
though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.
he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.
his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.
“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.
you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.
“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”
“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”
“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”
anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”
“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”
he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.
“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.
he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.
“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.
𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .
dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.
though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.
his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.
dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.
but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.
he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.
“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”
“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”
“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.
and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.
with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.
there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.
he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.
today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.
you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.
dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.
slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.
he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.
“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.
the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.
dazai hums. “you the leader?”
the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.
“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.
dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.
you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.
he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.
it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.
“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”
“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”
you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.
“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”
you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.
“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”
you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”
dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.
thank you for reading !!! ❤︎
#bsd x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x reader#osamu dazai x you#dazai x you#chuuya x reader#chuuya nakahara x reader#nakahara chuuya x reader#chuuya x you#chuuya nakahara x you#bsd x you#bsd imagines#bsd x y/n#dazai osamu x reader#chuuya imagines#bsd fanfic#bsd x gender neutral reader#dazai x fem reader#akutagawa ryuunosuke x reader#akutagawa x you#akutagawa x reader#akutagawa x y/n
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Running Late
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who is visually impaired
CW: reader has a degenerative eye disease that has left her with little sight, boys are obsessed with her, Marlene and Regulus read Sirius like a book
A/N: another fic no one really asked for but, after my post with our sweet wheelchair user!reader, our resident pink heart emoji felt courageous enough to share their own experience with visual impairment and I was inspired by her to write this - so, I hope you enjoy it 🩷 (and everyone else who might need it 🫶)
There was a time that you and Sirius rivalled one another for who took the longest to get ready, but lately it seemed that you usually won in that regard.
Remus didn’t mind, however; he’d wait on you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.
He had a certain amount of patience for you that he, admittedly, did not have for Sirius; seeing as you had your degenerative eye disease to blame on your tardiness whereas Sirius was just a slow and lazy sod who lived to drive Remus mad.
He and Sirius had been dressed in their best in the living room as they waited for you to finish getting ready before heading to Regulus’ birthday party that Lily and James were throwing for him, when Sirius couldn’t take it any longer.
“I’m just going to go see what is taking so long.” He explained before he disappeared down the hall.
But that was almost 14 minutes ago and now Remus had lost two of his partners in his own flat.
He slowly made his way down the hall to the bedroom door that was currently propped open, allowing him to watch Sirius who was perched on the vanity table as he hovered over you with a stick of eyeliner in his hands.
You used to be quite adventurous with makeup; always watching new tutorials and trying out different styles. But as your eyesight deteriorated, you opted to remain more natural in your looks, working primarily off of memory than visuals when having to hold a mirror so close to your face no longer allowed you the dexterity to work as you were used to.
And Remus knew for certain you hadn’t touched that stick of eyeliner in what had to be months.
“Don’t you trust my abilities?” Sirius asked teasingly; his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he focused on getting the wing just right.
“‘Course I trust you, Siri. I just-”
“-don’t want to look silly, I know, doll.” Sirius finished for you softly as he leaned back to consider his work. “I’d never let you leave looking silly.”
“When has she ever looked silly, Pads?” Remus asked then, alerting the two of you to his presence.
“Not once; never.” He answered readily, causing you to scoff.
“See, this is why I don’t trust you; you’re not objective.”
“I am too objective!” Sirius quickly denied.
“Sirius, you think I look sexy with my retainer and flannel pyjamas.” You deadpanned in return.
“But… you are sexy with your retainer and flannel pyjamas? You just look so cosy which makes me think about bed, which makes me think about going to bed with you, which makes me think about what we do in said bed and-”
“Alright, alright.” Remus interrupted with a hand on Sirius’ shoulder as he inspected Sirius’ handiwork.
“How does she look?” Sirius asked him, leaning into Remus’ side as they both watched you flush under their attention.
“Breathtaking.” Remus offered.
“You’re not objective, either.” You murmured, pulling the small mirror close to your face in order to scrutinise Sirius’ application.
“Fine, you want objective, gorgeous?” Sirius quipped as he pulled his phone out.
“What are you doing?” You asked warily as you heard Sirius’ phone begin to ring.
“Calling the most objective people I know.” He answered just as the ringing stopped.
“What the fuck do you want? And also, where the fuck are you?” Regulus asked his brother.
“Hey Reg, you’re on speaker phone and I need a favour.”
“On my birthday? You’re asking me for a favour on my birthday?” Regulus asked incredulously.
“Relax you git, I just need you to find Marlene and put your camera on so you can answer a question for me.” Sirius called back.
You grumbled in protest at Sirius’ theatrics but acquiesced at Remus’ kiss to your temple and thumb rubbing along your shoulder where his hand rested.
“The fuck does he want!?” You all heard Marlene ask Regulus, causing the two of you to snort and Sirius to scoff in offence.
“You guys are fuckin’ horrid, listen; how do I look?”
Marlene went first. “Slutty.”
“Like you tried too hard.” Regulus continued.
“Like you’re still trying to piss off your parents even though you don’t talk to them anymore.”
“Like you were lost at a Paramore concert back in 2007 and still haven’t been picked up from the venue.”
“Okay, okay, Jesus.” Sirius sighed before repositioning himself. “And how does Moony look?”
“Better, I guess.” Regulus offered.
“If I had to pick a man.” Marlene continued.
“Great.” Sirius said sarcastically. “And what about Y/N?” He asked as he pointed the phone to you.
Remus could tell you were trying your hardest not to completely turn in on yourself, which he himself was selfishly grateful for as he got to enjoy the view.
“God, she’s such a doll.” Marlene breathed out.
“You look stunning, love.” Regulus called out.
“Great, you guys are both wankers, love you, see you soon.” Sirius responded before abruptly ending the call. “Was that objective enough for you?”
You let out a sigh of faux exasperation and threw your head back. “Okay! Okay.” You relented, allowing Remus to pull you up by your hands and kiss your forehead.
“Oi! Watch the makeup Rem!” Sirius admonished him with a pat to his arse. “We worked hard on that, don’t you know?”
And Remus did know, though he didn’t think you had to.
Because you were beautiful - always had been - and the way you carried yourself with grace and determination even when you felt as though your body was failing you left you, somehow, even more beautiful.
Remus had known you before your eyesight started to deteriorate, and he was lucky to have been able to love both versions of you.
Though, selfishly, he thought perhaps he loved this version of you more, simply because it was his.
Simply because it was you; here, now.
And judging by the lovesick look adorning his boyfriend’s face as he watched you stand and give him a twirl, Sirius felt just the same.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#remus lupin#sirius black#wolfstar#poly!wolfstar#poly!wolfstar x reader#poly!wolfstar x you#poly!wolfstar fluff#poly!wolfstar blurb#poly!wolfstar imagine#poly!wolfstar drabble#fem!reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#visually impaired#visually impaired!reader#ellecdc fics#elle’s 🩷
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Murmurs of Obedience - Gyomei x Fem!Reader
Authors Note: This is something that I wrote a while back. Just reposting because I've always been a Gyomei stan and you guys are kinda inspiring me to write for him again lmfao. Hope you guys enjoy, if not, oh well lmfao.
TW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Anal Beads, Explicit Sexual Content, Vaginal sex, Breeding, Dominance, Power play, Bodily Fluids, Size Kink, Restraints, Teasing, Black Reader Because I said so. Word Count📃: 1127
The sound of pleasure permeates the room, the murmurs of obedience cascading from your lips unabashedly as you’re fucked into your mattress. All that’s allowed now is incoherence as Gyomei drives deep into your greedy pussy, it sucks him in and covers him in slick, a feeble attempt to take him in his entirety, so needy, so full.
Saliva pools in your mouth, dribbling down the side of your cheek the harder his hips thrust. Wet slaps reverberate the room as your essence thickens into a viscous white ring and the hums of his delight augment with the tantalizing sensation of pressure around your waist.
The frigid feeling of plush caresses your skin as you lay face down, ass up, both your hands pinned to your lower back by a much larger one as your body is drawn into his pelvis. He’s a mess in more ways than one, relishing in the sound of your wanton moans and pleasured cries. A grunt escaping him, filling your ears as the squeeze of your slick walls cradles his thick cock.
“There’s my good girl.” He tones lustfully, his head falling back as he admires the feeling of the mess you’ve made on him. His thumb trails along your precious ring, he smiles at its fullness as he pushes the silicone, beaded object deeper inside you. As you whimper, his hand pulls back and strikes your thigh with an exultant slap. “Mhmm~” He hums knowingly, picking up his pace to hear the needy tone of your voice and the squelch of your perfect pussy in his ears. He wants you undone completely, wants to feel all that you have to offer and he won’t stop until you’ve unraveled at the seams before him.
He figures it won’t be long now, the tremor of absolute pleasure in your voice says it all, and your eyes disappear into the back of your skull when you feel yourself on the edge of orgasm. Nothing is left of your mind except for the ability to generate profane language, and he listens for his favorite sound that you make; a guttural moan that lets him know he’s right where he needs to be.
As soon as he hears you he grins like a Cheshire Cat. He’s found it; that spot you love so fucking much. The spot that makes your knees weak as you beg for more than you can handle. He loves the feel of your body trembling on the tips of his fingers, it’s so tantalizing, so unforgettable. His teeth find his bottom lip and his brows knit together when he feels a gush of fluid cover his pelvis l, his chest vibrating as he praises you over and over again. “Such a messy, messy girl… I love when you keep it open just like that.” He whispers sternly while pressing into your sweet spot, untying the knot of your orgasm while he works his hips sloppily into your creamy pussy.
Your breath hitches as bliss traverses your body, your skin warm like the sun as your climax lingers right on the edge. The sound only lasts a moment, but Gyomei certainly doesn’t miss it. He pushes himself deep, bullying his thick cock through your suffocating pussy to rest his tip at your cervix, a smug smile on his face as he leans down to show you a remote control. He offers no words as his thumb traces the ‘plus’ sign, then he waits until there’s a soft silence, save for your whimpering, before a small ‘click’ is heard by both of you.
Sporadic pulsating vibrations cause your body to writhe in ecstasy. The sound of your pleasured screams fill the air as you wriggle and pull your back into a deep arch, clenching your teeth and panting heavily as your voice quivers. Gyomei hums in delight at the feeling of your insides vibrating, losing himself in the constant opening and clenching of your pussy as you reach your orgasm. You could hear him behind you beginning to moan loudly as your body rocks back and forth into him rhythmically.
“Ah!~ Agh fuck~ Too m-much!~”
“Don’t give out on me now.” He husks, his breath full of desire as he traces his top lip with his tongue, burying himself deep into your tightening walls.
“s’good~ m’gona~...”
“I can’t hear you my love, speak up.” He teases while pulling out and pushing himself to the hilt, his cock rubbing heavy against your sweet spot.
“Fuck! I’m gonna cum! It feels so good! Ahh!~” The over-stimulation was too much and you couldn’t stop your body from jerking. The involuntary trembling of your knees and gasping of breaths had Gyomei enthralled as he listened to the submission to your orgasm, relishing the way that you squirm under him. A deep growl fills the room as he fills your pussy to the brim with his cum, pulling out and using his cock to gather the spatter that oozed out just to push it back into you. His over sensitivity causes him to paint your walls again with his seed, his massive cock pressed fully against your cervix, lifting your hips to keep his load inside as he holds his sweltering palm against your back, keeping you in place as you moan his praise into your pillow.
After a moment, his lips trail up the middle of your back, then rested at the base of your ear. “Good girl.” He coos softly, sticking his thick finger into the loop of the toy buried deep in your second hole before tugging on it slowly. Your insides are rubbed as they pop out gently, one by one.
17 inches and 6 spiked, ribbed and sleek anal beads later, you found yourself sprawled out on the bed, a fucked out expression in your face and shaking before feeling the space around your waist tighten. Open mouthed kisses caress your cheek and neck, an attentive lover as always and aftercare was his specialty. He had no problem babying you for comfort, or running you a hot shower. After cleaning your body and his own, he runs a bath just for you, just so you can come down from your high.
After a quick change of sheets, Gyomei helps you out, carrying you back to bed. The feeling of sleep coast along your eyelids after your rush of dopamine, endorphins and oxytocin wear off. Two thick arms around your waist seals a deal with the sandman. The last thing you hear and feel before drifting off into sleep, is the sound of your husband’s low and honeyed voice.
“I love you so much, my love. I’ll take care of you in the morning as well… Just in case your body is sore."
#gyomei himejima#gyomei x y/n#kny#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#gyomei smut#drabble#gyomei x reader#gyomei#demon slayer gyomei#aave#black reader#because i said so#because i can#for you#tumblr fyp#fypage
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Nervous
Jack Hughes x fem!reader, smitten!Jack
summary: request for jack and reader on their wedding day
notes: this is my first time writing anything for jack and i literally had so much fun with it. i hope you guys like it 😌
[2.6k]
~
Jack had never been this nervous before. Not during nationals games, not on his draft day, not on the night of his rookie debut, and not in any circumstance that he can remember. Ever. He’s not usually the type to dwell on feelings of nerves, trusting his skill and his ability to focus on the task at hand to get the job done.
Today, though, is the most nerve-wracking day of his life. It’s his wedding day, for crying out loud. The day he gets to marry the girl that has been there for every major event of his life. The girl that has never missed a Devils home game. The girl that he’s pretty sure his family loves more than him. The girl that has stuck by him through every hardship and crazy hockey season so far. His girl. The girl he gets to make his wife.
Hell, he wasn’t even this nervous when he asked you to marry him. He recalls the day as if it happened mere hours ago, not a year and a half earlier.
“Jack, where are we going? I thought you said you had an event with the team tonight? You’re going to be late,” you ask, noticing you’re driving further and further away from the city.
You had been doing laundry, trying to get ahead on some chores you had been neglecting, when Jack had come into the living room and told you to put your shoes on, he wanted to take you somewhere. You had asked him where, and if you needed to change, but he simply shook his head no and told you it was a surprise. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for Jack. You just assumed he found a new ice cream place he thought you would love, or some quaint little coffee shop he knew you’d like.
You didn’t think anything of it until you found yourself watching the city disappear into the distance almost forty-five minutes later, no destination in sight.
“We’re almost there, darling. Don’t worry that pretty little head of yours,” is all he said, taking his eyes off the road for only a moment to flash one of his soft smiles in your direction before continuing to drive.
You sit in the comfortable silence, a slow country ballad playing softly on the radio. Jack’s hand resting on your thigh adding a much-needed warmth to your body, not having grabbed a jacket before he dragged you out of your shared apartment. You watch the road around you become surrounded by trees, admiring the greenery that seems so hard to come by in the city.
Before you realize it, too lost in your own thoughts, Jack is turning off of the paved road you were traveling onto a dirt road, clouds of dust billowing behind the car. You lean forward a bit, trying to take in the scenery to find any sort of clue as to where you were. You’re just about to ask where he’s taking you, yet again, when you see the most beautiful scene appear through the windshield.
At the end of the road stood a large red barn, aged in all the right ways. The red was slightly faded, showcasing the years of sun damage and there were pieces of the shingled roof missing, lost in the wind who knows how long ago. Off to the left of the barn was a large area surrounded by a wooden fence, a few horses grazing on the bright green grass. The sun was just beginning to set, causing one side of the barn to be coated in golden sunlight, the other side blanketed in a shadow. As Jack turned the car to enter the field where the barn sat, you noticed the obscene number of lights strung high into the trees covered by the shadow of the barn, giving the effect that little drops of sunlight were dripping from the limbs.
“Jack…what- where are we?” You ask him, disbelief lacing your tone.
“Just a little place I stumbled across with Luke one day. We were out for a drive, just wanting out of the city for a few hours. Found this place and instantly thought of you. Knew I had to bring you here,” he reveals, parking the car and turning off the engine.
Jack opens his door to get out of the car and quickly moves to open yours, taking your hand while leading the two of you over to the forest of lights. You’re so busy looking up at the sight in the trees that you miss the large, wooden arch set up in the middle of the two biggest trees in the mini forest. There were a few hay-bales on each side of the arch, large bouquets of white daisies placed all over the bales, with some even bunched around the top corners of the square arch.
Once you take in the scene in front of you, you turn your head to look at Jack, finding his eyes already on you.
“Jack, you have about three seconds to tell me what’s going on here,” you calmly tell him, even though your stomach felt like it was doing summersaults.
“I told you, I wanted to show this place to you. Thought you’d like it.” His lips curled into an amused smile once he noticed the glare on your face, knowing you were calling his bluff.
“I wanted to show you this place, because I knew you’d like it. Because I know you. How lucky I am to know you,” he begins, slowly moving you forward until you’re standing directly in front of the arch.
“How lucky I am that I’m the person you chose to trust with your heart. How lucky I am to be able to come home to you after a hard day. How lucky I am to be the recipient of your kindness and your love. How lucky I am to bask in your happiness and your spirit day after day. How lucky I am that you put up with the crazy world I live in, and do it without complaint.”
Your hands were starting to shake at this point, eyes watering.
“What I did to deserve all of this, I’ll never know. But I know I’ll never take it for granted. I’ll never take you for granted. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend every day of the rest of our lives telling you how thankful I am to whatever celestial being lead me to you,” Jack pauses, dropping to his knee and fishing around in his pocket for the velvet box he’s had hidden in a pair of old skates in the closet for months.
“You are pure sunshine, shining light on every single person you meet. Y/N Y/L/N, please, let me live the rest of my life sunburnt. Marry Me.”
That was the easy part. Asking you to marry him was the quickest and easiest decision Jack had ever made in his life. He hadn’t thought twice when he called Luke on a random Thursday afternoon, telling him he needed to help him run some “errands”, driving to the nearest jeweler as soon as Luke sat in his passengers seat. Didn’t even hesitate when he called your best friend, asking if you had ever talked about what your favorite diamond cut was. Not a nerve in sight when he flew out to meet your parents to ask for their blessing two months before proposing, claiming he was just making a quick trip to visit some friends.
So why? Why was he so nervous today? He’s been looking at himself in the mirror for twenty minutes now, worried that his bow tie is crooked, or that his hair looks too messy. He didn’t know why he was so focused on his appearance. You’ve seen him at his worst. You’ve been there to take care of him after far too many drinks on a night out celebrating a win, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, head buried in the closest toilet. You’ve seen him after a brutal game, face red from exertion and weird imprints all over his body from his gear. You’ve seen him when he broke down after his first loss during his rookie year, putting all the blame on himself, holding him in your arms as he sobbed in your kitchen.
He knew you didn’t care if a few hairs were out of place, or if his tie was a centimeter too far to the left. But he did. He cared, because this was the most important day of his life, and you deserved for him to look his best. You deserved for him to make sure everything was perfect.
Jack is pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door, Luke and Quinn making their way into the room.
“Ready, Rowdy?” Quinn asks, going to stand behind Jack in the mirror.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jack responds, turning to look at his two brothers, forcing a smile that’s supposed hide all of his nervous emotions.
“Are you sure? Why do you look like you’re about to vomit, then?”
“I don’t? Do I? Oh god, what if she thinks there’s something wrong when she sees me? How do I make myself look like I’m not gonna hurl all over her dress. Luke, do I really look like I’m gonna blow chunks?” Jack frantically asks, looking between the two brothers, turning back around to look at himself in the mirror once again.
“Jack, breathe, man. You look fine. Luke was just being Luke. He doesn’t look like he’s going to vomit, right, Luke?” Quinn attempts to calm Jack, glaring at Luke.
“Yeah, I didn’t mean it. Sorry, Jack. You look fine. She’s probably gonna want to jump your bones or some shit. You look great.” Luke blurts, trying to not only escape the wrath of his eldest brother, but to keep Jack from actually vomiting.
“Okay, not what I meant but whatever works, I guess.” Quinn sighs, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders to turn him back around.
“Listen, everything’s going to be fine. We just went to see Y/N, she’s nervous just like you are. I don’t know why, you’re both so painfully obvious with how much you love each other. There’s nothing for you to worry about. She loves you, man. More than I’ve seen someone love another person. As long as you’re standing there waiting on her at the end of the aisle, you could be covered in dog shit for all she cares. She just wants to see you. She just wants to marry you.”
Jack stares at his older brother, letting the words sink in. His thoughts drift to you, only three doors down, standing in your dress looking into the mirror just like he is, freaking out over things that don’t truly matter to him. He thinks about how you could walk down the aisle, hair un-brushed, pajamas still on, slippers on your feet and he would still be ecstatic to see you.
“You’re right, Q. Of course you’re right. I knew I chose you to be my best man for a reason,” Jack chuckles, feeling his nerves settle a bit.
“I know I’m right. I know you. And I know Y/N. As long as the two of you leave here today with the same last name, everything else could go wrong and you would still be the happiest couple I know,” Quinn removes his hands from Jack’s shoulders.
“But, nothing is going to go wrong, because Mom has been out there running around like a madwoman to make sure everything is in place. The only thing left is to make sure you get to the altar. Which is what we were sent here to do,” Luke chimes in, trying to assure his brother one last time.
“Alright. Yeah. I guess it’s time, huh?”
“It’s time, Rowdy. And it’s been a long time coming.” Quinn pats Jack on the back, the three brothers making their way towards the door that was left open.
Jack smiles at his brother’s statement, knowing you’re just as much a part of his brother’s lives as you are his. You watch every single one of Quinn’s hockey games (as long as he’s not playing at the same time as Jack and Luke) and scream loud enough for the neighbors to complain. You were there at Jack’s side for Luke’s draft day, just as proud, if not more, of the youngest Hughes. You always invite Luke over for a post-game dinner, knowing how tired he is after games and wanting to make sure he gets a meal before he goes home and claims he’s too tired to eat. He knows you hold a special place in his mom’s heart, too. Her claim that you’re the daughter she never had proving to be true through this whole process, knowing she’s been involved in every step of this wedding right along side your mom and yourself.
Before Jack knows it, the ceremony is beginning and he’s being given the signal to make his way to the altar, standing next to his groomsmen as he waits for you to walk through those doors.
As he looks out over the crowd, he finds himself growing nervous once again. Did he put on enough cologne? Did he bring the right kind? What if he wasn’t wearing the one you told him was your favorite? Did he brush his teeth? What if he kisses you for the first time as your husband and his breath tastes like the burger he had for lunch? Oh god, what if you don’t want to kiss him because he has burger breath?
Quinn can sense the nervous energy radiating off of his brother once again. He places his hand on Jack’s back, giving him a few pats to let him know he’s right there next to him. That everything’s going to be okay.
Jack looks over at his brother only briefly before he hears the unmistakable tune of “In Case You Didn’t Know” by Brett Young start playing through the speakers. It’s Jack’s song for you. He plays it all the time when you’re in the car together, not even trying to be subtle. He loves to send it to you when he’s on the road, letting you know he’s thinking about you. There was absolutely no question in your mind as to what song you were going to choose when your mom asked what you wanted to walk down the aisle to.
He snaps his attention to the double doors that open at the other end of the large room. His stomach is in knots, really hoping he doesn’t actually look like he’s about to puke, because he sure feels like it right now.
As he watches the first flash of white make an appearance in the doorway, he knows he’s a goner.
You step into his full view, hand wrapped around your father’s arm, looking around at the various guests for only a split second before your eyes meet his. Jack swears, all time stops in that second. He can barely see through the tears that well in his eyes, completely in awe of you. You match his gaze, forcing yourself to keep the tears from dropping, not wanting to have mascara streaks running down your face before you even get to the altar.
The two of you simply stare at one another for what seems like an eternity. An unspoken declaration of love passed between one another in a simple glance. Your father having to tug on your arm slightly, forcing you to step forward, too lost in Jack for you to remember where you were and what was currently taking place.
As you start to walk down the aisle, every step bringing you towards Jack, towards the rest of your life with him, the feeling of calmness washes over his body. You’re here. You’re his. And you’re everything he has ever wanted and more. It’s in this moment, watching the rest of his life walk towards him, smile on her face, a single tear slipping down her cheek, Jack Hughes has never been less nervous in his life.
#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes blurb#jack hughes#jack hughes fanfic#jack hughes fanfiction#jack hughes one shot#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x you#luke hughes#quinn hughes#new jersey devils#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey#nhl x reader#nhl blurb#nhl oneshot#nhl imagine#nhl fanfic#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl players#nhl#nhl hockey
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i'd stay, cancel my flights, change everything just to be in your life
word count: 11.3k
summary: parallel lines holding hands, side by side til the end of time
"You're leaving?" You raise a brow, watching as Leon, sweet 21-year-old Leon, pulls his suitcases to the door with all the boxes of his things.
"I have to." He frowns. "You won't move to Raccoon with me, and it's—"
"Landlines cost a fortune to use. I know." You close your eyes. "Will you write to me?"
"I can try." He doesn't dare to look you in the eye. You know he doesn't want to leave. He knows he shouldn't just break up with you like this. Is this the end of your relationship? All because the two of you refuse to do things to stay together? Is this selfishness... or is it something else? Did Leon ever really truly love you?
"Trying is too much. If we're truly meant to be, may we cross paths in the future once more." You hum. "I'll help you move the boxes."
"Will you visit?"
"Depends if you invite me." You crack only the lightest of jokes, boxes put into the back of his car as he closes the trunk with a thud, fiddling with his fingers as he looks at you.
"I guess this is goodbye?"
"May our paths cross again." You hold your hand out, and Leon pulls you in instead, arms wrapped around your waist as he squeezes, heart racing painfully against his chest.
He doesn't like that he has to make this decision.
"I'll see you again, I promise." He mumbles.
You watch Leon Kennedy drive into the sunset, stuck staring from your place in the suburbs as his car eventually loses itself in the light. You wonder if that is a sign of something. Is it possible to blind yourself from the light? Is it dooming to force oneself into the sun? May his wings not burn off, you decide. No matter how far, you hope that he will be kept safe. That is all that matters to you. And when he is inevitably too close to the sun one day, may the embrace of the stars catch him and hold him close. The sun is a star, after all.
Yet, the sun gives warmth to life, and when you're stuck staring at the two lines on the test, you think the sun has burned you for getting too close.
You only ever receive one letter from Leon the entire time the two of you are apart.
Signed two days after his new beginning, delivered five days after the destruction of Raccoon City, you are given all of the details of what had occurred during the time that Leon had been in that place.
Don't come find me, as I no longer hope our paths cross ever again
Heed my words, LSK
You decide to do what Leon knew you did best. The story of Raccoon City is turned into a bestseller, people crowding to read more about what your mind could conjure about the mystery of Raccoon City on the news, desperate to get some sort of twisted release. You do not heed Leon's words. You do not answer to the desperate public. Instead, you disappear after the release of the novel. You're sure that Leon's more than happy to see you disappear from the public as he had instructed you to do so. You would become a thorn in his side— or something. You're not quite sure. Do you care all that much? You wish you could say no. You know nothing more than the fact that Leon survived. However, from the fact that he knew so much, you can only assume that he ended up working somewhere in the twisted political system. Perhaps not politics... perhaps government.
Your daughter is born, a sweet girl that you decide should take your last name instead of his. It is a curse, that last name of his. His sweet girl should not have to deal with everything that comes with being of his blood. Your sweet girl belongs to you rather than to him. She will be raised and loved and cherished until she knows that it is not worth it to throw your life away simply because you have fallen in love with someone. She will be the new light in your life, and you will choose to bring joy to her life to the best of your ability.
When you catch Leon at 27 on the news after saving the president's daughter from Spain, you do not feel anything.
You hope not to feel something. Are you supposed to feel something? Is there anything left to feel for a man who has not been part of your life for over 6 years? It would be pathetic to mourn over what could have been. It is truly not your problem. You do not get the luxury of being in his life anymore. Perhaps, he did not want the luxury of being in yours. "I no longer hope our paths cross ever again." Are you supposed to just move on? Leon, the man that you are.
Your daughter asks you how work was when you pick her up from elementary school, and you tell her that you had caught a government agent returning home after a particularly hard mission. She asks you if you have a story to tell her, so you tell her the story of how you met Leon, his youth and yours entwined as you promised to stay together until the stars in the sky burned out, but you don't tell her that it was her dad. You tell her that it was a story you heard from a friend because you would rather bear the guilt of lying to her than let her know that her parents were cowards — that you were a coward.
At 28, you catch a glance of Leon in the window of a coffee shop in the capital, eyes meeting his for a second before he turns away first and decides that you are not worth the time.
It hurts more than you'd like to admit.
Instead, you continue on your way to your interview, wondering if you should just ditch now that you are aware that your blind guess had been correct. Leon Scott Kennedy was in the capital of the country, and you would be stuck in the vicinity of him at all times if you took the job. Though, you really can't pass up on such good pay. What right do you have to complain if you receive a pay far better than anything else? Who are you in a capitalistic system that will inevitably drive you to ruin one day?
You wonder why there are so many rhetorical questions that spin in your mind.
Yet, you stay in the capital because you know it is better to move on face to face than to mull over the shadow of what it could have been.
What use is a hypothetical in the face of reality?
Besides, it mattered more than you had a child to feed.
When Leon is 35 (you're still counting), the two of you meet at a press conference. You stare at him and he stares at you, and the two of you exchange a nod before you both go your own ways. You are here to help someone just as he is — only in different ways. Leon is to serve with his body, and you are to serve with your mind. What difference does it make if you both are serving someone in the end? What difference does it make if it's the body or the mind? Can you truly say that the two of you are different at all?
You wonder if Leon is truly healing when he looks so distraught over something. Perhaps he's busy with whatever the government is tasking him with. If he's by the president's side, then surely he's someone of higher ranking now. You think it's been a long time since you've seen his face properly. Age has wrecked through his body, fine lines in the corners of his eyes and lips, facial hair so much more defined than when you had first met him. Time is ticking, yet you are stuck in place.
Your daughter moves quickly, high school starting as she gets to tell everyone that her mom is a major journalist, at the frontier of covering big issues regarding the rumors that spread around. She treats you like her hero, and for the first time in a while, you let out a sigh in relief that makes your whole body relax. It is as if the tension that you would accidentally let the frustration of raising her alone ruin her life has finally been lifted from your shoulders. You will be alright. No matter how much the two of you would fight, you will be fine because you have survived for so long and you will continue to.
At 38, you watch Leon return after a mission abroad with the rest of the press, staring at the bandages on his cheek, watching as he passes you with a glance, movements never stopping once. You are stuck in place, you think. You are moving at the same pace as Leon when you could be running ahead, and it will inevitably come back to destroy you. What use is there in matching someone's pace when they do not think of you? Are you stuck in place? Will you be stuck here forever? You thought moving to the capital could change things, yet you are back where you began.
The world is moving too fast for you to keep up.
At least someone grounds you.
One day, your flip phone becomes a smartphone, and your cents charged for the landline become a monthly phone plan that you pay at the beginning of the month with your rent and just about everything else. The world is moving on, so why are you stuck in place? Maybe it was you who needed to be caught in the stars and not Leon. Who will catch the moon when it collapses from the sky? What chasing is there if the moon will never see the sun?
What does it take to break a cycle of destruction?
Not much, apparently.
When Leon himself is banging at your door at the crack of midnight, you know better than to open the door, but you do it anyway. If you are to die, then you might as well let it be at his hands.
"I'm sorry." He's gasping for air, on his knees.
Leon Kennedy, a grown man in his forties, kneeling at your open front door.
You wonder if you should just cut it right here.
"Do I—"
"You don't need to." He heaves, breathing heavy as he dares not to look at you. "I'm sorry."
You stare down at him, and you wonder if this is the universe's way of apologizing to you.
"You can crash the couch. If you leave tomorrow morning, then I'll take all of this as a mistake you're making while drunk." You let him in, and you know he'll be gone in the morning.
Leon was not one to go against his own words.
Yet, in the morning, you find yourself staring at Leon as he serves you breakfast, terrified of talking to you or something. It makes you raise a brow, but you thank him as you start on breakfast. He wants to say something. You wonder if he hasn't changed at all since you've last seen him. Maybe somewhere deep down, he's still that rookie who had his first day in a zombie-infested city.
"I really am sorry."
"There's no way you're deciding this now." You don't bother looking at him, sitting down as he hands you a plate of food for breakfast instead. Always an action. Always an act of service in order to remind you that he loves you instead of speaking up. You wonder if you're the one being stubborn in that case. Maybe the reason your relationship went downhill was all because of you. It is always you, you find.
Yet, despite all odds, your daughter is in college now.
"I heard you have a daughter." He laughs dryly, leaning against the kitchen marble as you raise a brow at him.
"Yes. I do."
You stare at Leon as he sucks in a breath, and you refuse to tell him. Even if he asks, you will lie through your teeth to make sure that the wound in your relationship would be severed. You do not understand why he still insists on checking in on you, but as you start eating, you do not complain. If he wishes to drag your severed limbs through the mud, then let him do so. If he would have to exist in your life only to wound you over and over again, then let him do so. If you should exist only to be hurt back because you had hurt him first, then let it be so.
"Is she mine?"
You stare at Leon, and then shake your head.
"Who's the... father?"
"Hookup. I forgot to take the morning after pill." You start at the breakfast, humming quietly as Leon stares at you apprehensively. "You didn't burn the bacon this time."
"That was once." He points.
Yet, you finish the food, watching as Leon still lingers. He stays. You don't know what prompts him to stay, and quite frankly, you're too scared to ask how he managed to get your address, but you keep quiet. You do not want to know. You should not want to know. You aren't someone in his life anymore, so does it really matter if you know or not. Maybe you should let your daughter know that her biological father has decided to crash at your apartment door at two am on a Monday all in the name of apologizing. You're sure that she'd be disappointed after you had told her to never take a man back unless he groveled.
"Why are you really here?" You stare up at Leon as he slides you a mug of tea, and he sighs.
"Wanted to know if Leona was mine. She..."
"Don't delude yourself." You press the mug to your lips, and Leon exhales.
"Do you want the truth?"
"Should've started with that."
"You're on a wanted list of potential conspiracy theorists."
"What the hell?"
"Leaking government secrets... or something. That book you published."
"Ah." You mumble. "All over the book?"
"Too accurate of a retelling. The government didn't cover up the nuking, but they did cover up the zombies, so—"
"So they think I somehow am convincing the masses with the book that there were zombies."
"It's a national security concern."
"Which involves you? I thought the CIA covered that."
"I asked the president personally to be put on the case... didn't wanna fly international again. Also, it was you." He swallows slowly.
"So, if I get caught, you go down with the ship too, huh?" You laugh dryly, sliding him the half of breakfast you didn't touch. "You need to eat too."
You wonder if it mirrors all the times that Leon had been too tired after a day of drills to even respond to you when the two of you had been together, but even then, he had threaded his fingers between yours, telling you to sleep well before he headed off to bed himself. Age or PTSD? You can not imagine the trauma that goes into shaping Leon into who you see before you now. The blonde he used to dye his hair has faded out into a darker color — damaged hair making it a lighter brown rather than the one you had been used to when you first met him. Are you overstepping your boundaries? Is he overstepping your boundaries? You can not tell.
"Old habits die hard, huh?"
"It's been nearly twenty years." You mumble. "They shouldn't be habits anymore."
"Trust me. Some of them are just embedded into your soul." He glances at the door as it rattles, and you pinch the bridge of your nose.
"I'm home." Your daughter, Leona, pauses when she notices the man in the kitchen. "Who's this?"
"Leon Kennedy." You don't give her any more details beyond that, exhaustion written all over your face enough to tell her to save the question for another time. "How was the trip?"
"It was fun. I'll show you photos after I unpack. Hi, Mr. Kennedy."
Leon nods in response.
"Of course, baby. Did you eat yet?"
"I had a bagel in the morning, but I'll need lunch. Did the stuff in the fridge go bad?"
"No. I'll make lunch for us today."
"Thank you, ma."
You smile, waving as she tugs her luggage with her into her room.
"She's the spitting image of me." Leon stares down at you, brows furrowed. "How can she not be mine? Everything matches up."
"I cheated on you with a blonde man with blue eyes before you moved, or something." You half-ass it, standing up as you close your eyes and watch him eat. "What's next? I go to the town hall? I turn myself into the CIA?"
"No, I just need to monitor you regularly. That's it. You've been inactive in terms of writing for years. They just want me to keep you in check." He hums. "They moved me in next door. Let me know if you need anything."
"For how long?"
"Only a couple of months." He nods. "Can I meet Leona sometime?"
You glance at her open door, wondering if you should treat this a little more seriously.
"Make us lunch."
"Hm?"
"Lunch. We can talk about this over lunch. Dinner is too formal." You sigh. "Are you trying to be back in her life?"
"So she is mine." He mumbles. "I had a daughter all this time and you never bothered to tell me?"
"Didn't feel necessary. It would have stirred up too much press. Can you imagine me yelling at you that you have a daughter? The government would go insane. Now, answer my question. Are you trying to involve yourself in her life, or do you just want to introduce yourself to her?"
"You'll let me co-parent her?"
"Leon Scott Kennedy." You seethe. "Answer the fucking question."
"I don't know, but I think introducing myself would be a good start."
You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Shakshuka for brunch."
"Shakshuka?"
"We have the ingredients for it. You're on cooking duty. I trust that you haven't just been living off of store-bought food this whole time."
"No, I picked up cooking recently." He looks up a recipe on his phone, searching for the ingredients in your pantry as you knock on your daughter's door.
"Hm?"
"Leon will join us for brunch. Is that alright?"
"It's fine, ma." She smiles. "I have an idea on what's going to come out just... based off of his face."
"It wasn't to hurt you."
"I know." She nods. "I'll mull over it later when my insomnia hits, but I'll mull over it. I know you didn't do it to hurt me."
You glance at the souvenir she's decided to bring back and raise a brow. "Is that a mug?"
"Isn't it cute?" She grins. "Found it at a local potter's place while there."
"It is." You take it from her, tilting it to get a good look at the colors as she starts explaining the rest of her little trinkets.
"This one's for you." She hands you a mug that looks the same, and you raise a brow at the design.
"XOXO Gossip girl?" You raise a brow. "My coworkers are going to love this."
"Did you call off work today?"
"Yeah. Leon crashed last night, and I told the team that I wasn't able to make it."
"PTO?"
"PTO." You hum. "Thank you for the mug, baby. Did you see anything fun?"
"Met the president's daughter."
"On the trip?"
"Yeah. Our sorority was introducing ex-members, and she was one of them. She brought up how I reminded her of the dude who saved her that one time she got kidnapped... said we shared a name too."
"Ah, is that how?"
"Felt like a strange coincidence more than anything." She places her two bags of trinkets on her desk, and she hands you her mug. "Did you name me after him?"
"Partially. I just wanted you to be brave like your name." You listen to the way that the kitchen hood turns off. "Brunch is ready."
"How long did you date?"
"I'll tell you that after I've had my first glass." You hum. "I need one if you're going to ask me all of these questions."
Leona laughs, lips curled upwards as you take her out with you. She's taller than you, yet she is still your baby. Your sweet child whom you adored so much has grown up so much. The spitting image of her father that you had grown to be thankful for rather than get haunted by in the narrative. Your sweet daughter that you adored.
"Brunch is— oh, you both are already here. Your mother requested shakshuka."
"Oh... it's been all over my Tiktok lately." Your daughter mumbles.
"And I saw some bread, so I toasted some slices." Leon nods. "I figured I should introduce myself. I'm Leon—"
"My father." Your daughter is curt, nodding as Leon takes her hand. "Nice to finally know who you are."
"Trust me, had I known earlier, I would have come running. Your mother is insanely good at keeping secrets."
"Yes, ma has always been like that." Your daughter sits back down to start eating. "What do you work in?"
"Government."
"Like administrative or politics?"
"Security."
"Like FBI or internet?"
"I'd say it's closer to FBI, though, we don't do the same missions. I've been protecting the president lately."
"So like... bodyguard."
"Something like that."
You plate your daughter's food first and then Leon's, and yours last. You watch as your daughter makes small talk with him, surprisingly unbothered by the sudden intrusion of her biological father in her life, getting to know him over brunch. Though, you know your daughter better than anyone. She's not getting to know Leon, she's just making small talk so that Leon lets his guard down around her. You can't say you blame her. It's hard to accept a man who's been missing all of your life as soon as he comes back.
Your daughter turns to you as you hand her the plate. "Can I drink?"
"Careful, Leon can arrest you for that." You bite into your slice of toast, giving her no other answer.
"You let her drink?"
"It's safer to know what her tolerance is than to have her find out on her own. The answer is no, though. Not today, at least. Maybe when Leon isn't here."
"Tough luck, I'll be here pretty often from now on."
"What?" Your daughter raises a brow at you, and you give her a look that can only mean you'll tell her later.
"There won't be a later." Leon hums.
"If you write this in the report I'm going to burn you alive." You grumble. "Mom's under suspicion from the government because of a book I published years ago. A fiction book."
Your daughter raises a brow, and realization strikes her.
"Oh my god, it was true?"
"Leon wrote all of it in a letter to me." You hum. "And yes, it's what Leon does."
"You eradicate zombies? Like The Walking Dead?"
"Well, not as dramatic—" He pauses. "Alright. Sometimes it gets that dramatic, but it's nothing super big. They're moreso mutated biological weapons than zombies—"
"You fight bioweapons for a living. That's huge." Your daughter mumbles. "Do you know the biology behind it all? What are the—"
"Even if I did, I wouldn't be able to tell you. The government would suspect you next."
Your daughter huffs, going back to her egg instead.
"Are you in college? What are you majoring in?"
"Biology. I'm specializing in bioweapons"
"What."
You hold back the laugh that threatens to break onto your face, eating quietly as you watch Leon blink at your daughter twice.
"Biological weapons?"
"More specifically, I study gene mutation. I study how they come to be."
Leon turns to look at you, and you shrug. "Her choice. Whether she uses it for good or bad ultimately depends on her."
"They teach that?"
"GWU does." Your daughter shrugs. "Can I continue unpacking?"
"Of course, baby." You nod. "I'll keep chatting with Leon."
"Thank you for brunch." She nods, heading off.
"You're letting her study something that dangerous?"
"It's not dangerous unless she decides it is." You wipe your mouth, staring at the last egg. "What am I expected to do?"
"Not much." Leon hums. "I just need to report your day-to-day."
"Alright. I'm gonna rot on the couch all day, so you'll have nothing much to do. Is this your job for the next couple of months?"
"Don't worry, you'll have me all—"
"If you say another word, I'm going to shoot myself."
Leon laughs in response.
You find that having Leon around isn't the end of the world. You still exist in your day-to-day life, Leon hanging around your apartment while you're at work and your daughter is in class, and it makes for an interesting icebreaker when people ask how your weekend went. (It isn't "my ex moved next door to me", no, it's "a government agent paid me a visit over the weekend"). Yet, life goes on, and you find that despite your brooding over how the end of the world was coming because Leon had slipped back into your life, it's very much not the case. If anything, Leon sort of just exists in your life.
At the very least, someone cooks for both you and your daughter when you return home.
"What's the menu tonight?" You raise a brow, your daughter coming in after you as she kicks off her slippers.
"Beef stew."
"I'm surprised he knows how to season his food."
You hold back a laugh, sliding your heels off as Leon feigns a look of offense. Your daughter peels her tablet out, settling on the couch as you sit next to her, yawning.
"How was work?"
"Leon, stop acting like we're married." You grumble.
"Yeah, but you like coming home to a home-cooked meal, no?"
"Caught red-handed." You put both your hands up, watching as your daughter does some sort of witchery with her ochem homework. You don't wish it upon anyone, ever. Though, the idea of Leon trying to figure it out does amuse you just a little bit. You decide a short nap would work in your favor, telling the two to wake you up when dinner is ready, eyes closing as your daughter tells you good night.
Good night means you wake up at two am in bed, Leon knocked out on the couch, and just about a hundred question marks floating over your head. You glance at the pot of stew that sits in the fridge and a smaller bowl portioned out for you, and you jump in your skin when you hear Leon move.
"Awake?"
"Yeah." You reach for a can of beer, cracking it open as you sit back on the couch. "Why are you still here?"
"I was going to take you to bed, but I remembered you don't like your outside clothes on in your bed. I can't change you anymore since... yeah." He pauses at the beer. "Drinking on an empty stomach isn't going to feel so good in the morning."
"Wow, how kind of you."
Leon has not forgotten you. You're made aware of that at the very least, eyes still full of a sincerity and warmth that you had grown used to decades ago. It makes you sick to the stomach that you had such an effect on him despite the two of you ending on good terms. It was not good terms. It was surface-level good terms, but both of you had secretly wished the other would say something about sticking together. Both of you are cowards, now that you think about it. He probably would have stayed had you let him know that you were pregnant, but you didn't wish to hold him back. Maybe it was selfish of you.
Yet, you do not regret all that you have done for your daughter.
"I never moved on." Leon speaks slowly, light in the living room dim as you raise a brow at him. "I... I thought about you all these years, and—"
"If you're staying back to tell me all of this useless stuff, I don't see a point in you staying back."
"You're not ready for this conversation?"
"Leon," You glare at him. "This isn't a conversation we should be having at all. Our feelings mean nothing now. You're here to monitor me casually, nothing else. Imagine if the government found out that you were being so lacking on the job."
You watch as Leon's voice gets caught in his throat.
"We're too old for this."
"We aren't." He tries.
"We are." You leave it at that, shaking your bottle as you realize it's half empty. "Leon, we're in our forties and both have jobs—"
"You can't just say shit like that to hurt me!"
"Keep your voice down. Leona's a light sleeper." You grumble. "It's fine. Let's just end it at that."
Leon stays quiet, and the look behind his eyes tells you more than enough that he wants to continue the conversation, but he learns to keep quiet. It feels the same as before. It was always petty squabbles that could be fixed the morning after once you've cooled down, but you don't want to. It's a conversation you refuse to have with Leon. It's a conversation that's been rotting in the display case of your heart — something you refuse to let go of all because it would feel foreign. You're selfish, you find. You used to care for Leon's heart as your own, but the rotting has consumed your heart and mind. Maybe you will only hurt him if you stay close.
"Morning." Leon hands you your cup of tea and your daughter her flask of water, waving to her as she rushes off for her 8am.
"Morning." You press the mug to your lips.
"Ready to talk about it?"
"I told you the conversation was over." You hum, turning to stare at the clock. "I have work in an hour and a half."
"We should get breakfast by your workplace."
"Sure, mister bodyguard." You mumble. "Didn't feel like cooking?"
"You need to diffuse."
"I'm very good at separating personal life and my work life." You hum. "You're paying."
"Yeah, yeah." He grabs his jacket from the rack as you hit the button to lock the door, clicking on your phone as you start the security system.
"You driving?"
"I'd have to pick you up from work, no?"
"Leon... I take public transport to work. Leona uses the car."
"Oh." He pauses. "... I have a bike?"
You raise a brow.
When Leon said bike, you were expecting more of a... bike bike rather than a motorbike, and as Leon steps on the gas and you're chanting quiet prayers in your mind to stay alive, something feels all too foreign yet familiar. Leon wanted to get a motorbike when the two of you had first started dating years ago, so to be able to see Leon have his own and drive safely was interesting. You are watching him grow. He has changed in little parts of his life. It is comforting to know that the pace you had been matching was moving at the very least. Perhaps you can not see how far you've come if no one can show you how far you've gone.
"Ugh, my hair." You huff, fixing your hair as Leon pays for parking.
"Is this a date?"
"If you somehow remember my order." You brush at the loose strands, following behind Leon as he guides you around the uneven pavement. You wonder if you'll bump into someone you know. It's a popular brunch place even for government workers. You follow Leon in, blinking as somehow a table clears up and the two of you are seated. It makes you raise a brow, but you don't think too much, looking at your emails as he orders for the two of you. You wonder how much of you he does remember.
When one of your coworkers comes up and asks you who you're with, you glance at Leon and tell the guy that it's your neighbor. He was plenty of trouble already, and as Leon raises a brow at the man that only means trouble, you worry for the poor guy's health. Leon's going to decimate this guy, even if it's unintentional. You can only hope he doesn't go around telling everyone you're hooking up with your ex again. Though, it's not like they knew you had an ex. You could play everything off. Perhaps this was the curse of working in journalism with men whose temper breaks at the slightest aggravation.
"If you're just neighbors, then this should be fine, right? What, you won't date me because your daughter's still young? She's an adult now. You should be honored that—"
"Hey, man, I wouldn't go that way if I was you." Leon raises a brow at the man, and your coworker raises a brow.
"Shut it, neighbor."
"The father of her child begs to differ."
That's all it takes to shut up your coworker, his face red as he storms off, and you grin into your palm, eyes meeting Leon's as he hums.
"Didn't even need to pull out the badge."
"Now, that would have been a power move." You thank the waiter as the food comes and eat. "You keep it on you?"
"Required at all times. It's helpful when out, definitely." He glances at the food. "Will you have leftovers?"
"Definitely. Can you take them back for me?"
"Of course."
When you arrive at the company, you're bombarded with questions — unsurprising considering everyone here is an investigative journalist of some kind, and you wave all of them off. You don't want to talk about it. He is the father of your daughter. That's all. He's not someone you're allowed to love anymore, and you should leave it at that. It won't just take a handful of months for him to somehow get you back. It would have to take more than that. No one pries further when they notice you refuse to budge. Perhaps time would tell.
When you return, you note your daughter's text about staying over at a friend's place and step home.
"Where's Leona?"
"Out with her best friend." You hum. "House is just me for the week. Don't try anything funny, though."
"Do you still have the old photobook?"
"Of before we broke up?" You raise a brow, pulling out another can from the fridge.
"Can I get one?" He thanks you as he catches it, nodding to your question.
"Yeah. It's somewhere in the study's cardboard boxes. Why?"
"Wanted to look over them."
"Well, haven't you grown sentimental?" You crack open the bottle, holding it out to clink bottles with him, pressing the drink to your lips as you hum.
"Maybe I just miss you."
"I'm right here."
"Sometimes I worry you aren't."
You laugh in response, brows knitting and resembling a sneer, but it isn't malicious. It's the same smile that Leon knew you put on when you were annoyed that someone had read you like an open book. It wasn't fair. Leon hadn't moved either, and the two of you had been stuck matching pacing in life only to stay exactly where the two of you had started. It wasn't fair. It was never fair. Were you stuck where you began all because you had been fixated on your past? Unfair. It was unfair.
Leon stares at the can in his hand, sighing.
"What's wrong now?"
"I should have looked for you earlier." He mumbles, grimacing at the taste of the alcohol on his tongue. "I should have known."
"I didn't expect you to."
"You had been nauseous the days leading up to my departure."
"And? I kept her from you."
"It was not your fault. I left you with no way to contact me." He mumbles. "I should've... worried about her instead of someone else."
"It's not your fault. You didn't start the outbreak, and you didn't choose to join the government."
"How did you know that?" He turns to look at you, and you hum. "Despite our cutting news, we also take bribes. One of the first archival information I was given was that you had been forced into your position because of your stellar behavior in Raccoon City. They threatened you with that other girl.,, Sherry, was it?"
Leon grimaces. "I ended up seeing her so little because of my position."
"It wasn't your fault." You tap the rim of the can, blinking slowly as Leon meets eyes with you.
"You haunt my world."
"Good to know." You swallow slowly, staring at Leon as he meets eyes with you. You wonder if he's actually drunk or just taking the opportunity to be honest with you. Regardless, you appreciate the attempted honesty. Shall you bait him? Tear your soul bare all for him to look at you and touch your heart all over again? Shall you present yourself bare to the bone to Leon so he could feel that you were finally being honest with him? How unkind of you — to think that way.
"Leon, did you love me?"
"I don't think love could even begin to describe how much I adored you." He runs his hand through his hair, laughing as he takes another drink. "I couldn't sleep without you for months after I left."
"Really?" You think back to all the nights you had woken up in need to empty out your stomach, grimacing at the memory. "But you moved on, no?"
"Hm?" Leon turns to look at you completely now, eyes going half-lidded as you get the idea. "No, sweetheart. I never did."
"I guess those shitty bedroom eyes you give me when you want something hasn't either. Couch is all yours. I'm locking the door tonight."
"I love you." Leon manages, swallowing as he stumbles out of the chair, reaching for your wrist as he ends up on his knees again. "Fuck, I'd rather die than live without you again. I'm already here begging for you — what, what else do I need to do? I'll—"
"Leon." You stare down at him, brows furrowed as you seem to remember this scene all too well. "We're both adults with jobs—"
"With a daughter." He swallows. "We're parents too, you know? We're also our own people. Why do you keep stopping me from making choices to put you first?"
"You work for the government. As much as I despise it, you keep all of us safe." You mumble. "Let's talk in the morning if you remember anything about this conversation at all."
"I'm not drunk." He mumbles, and you drag him back to the ouch, helping him get comfortable as you stare down at his closed eyes.
You've hurt the two of you more than enough, you think.
You check your daughter's location, fingers clicking on your keyboard as you wonder if you should take a trip out too. It had been a while since you've actually taken paid vacations and not sick days. You wonder if you'd get your ass kicked if you just decided to take PTO off a day in advance, but considering the lack of news going around lately, it wouldn't be impossible.
A break. You need a break to collect yourself.
So, you leave Leon a note, refusing to diffuse too quickly out of a fear that you'll snap, and you call the head office right first thing in the morning to let them know that you'll be taking two weeks off for personal reasons. You assure them anything left to you will be handed in on time, just... you wouldn't be able to make it to the office. It's not PTO, the more that you think about it. You're really just working remotely.
You leave in the morning with a suitcase, ticket booked for the middle of nowhere. Anywhere but home, you decide. It is not that home is where your belongings are. Your home is where your heart is, and for a long, long time, it has been with Leon. You can not recall a moment in which he hasn't been the place your heart was, but you wonder if it was possible that at some point, your heart had just shattered and broke in your chest instead of staying with him.
You step out onto the sunny beach houses of your company's private island given as a bribe and think you're in utter bliss. Though, the story that would have sold was worth a couple million dollars, you guess. You don't care at that point. It had been a long time since you had last taken a while off for the sake of your body. You draft things to discuss when you get back. You're sure Leon will probably find you somehow, but it really isn't your problem. Until you're nice and warm from the inside out under the sun, it is not something you'll care about.
You should probably have a talk with Leona once the two of you return as well.
Your days on vacation are nice, sand in your toes and drink in your hand as you abuse company privileges, checking your phone to like your daughter's photos as she sends you updates about her day. You're glad Leon doesn't have your number (though you're sure that he could get it if he really wanted it). You trust that he lacks in nothing when it comes to stalking you down.
Which is inevitably true when Leon finds himself on the same island, texting Ashley a thanks as he steps up to your beach chair, covering you from the sun as you stare up.
"Took you long enough."
"Still haven't changed that awful habit of yours, huh? Running away when you need to have a conversation?" He takes a step back, taking a seat on the beach chair next to you.
"It took you a while this time."
"Yeah, well, it isn't exactly the small town bar we used to visit, no? I can't believe your third place has become a private island only certain government workers can get into."
"Yeah, but you're here, no?" You sit up, taking your sunglasses off. "Let's talk."
"I'm sorry."
"I still don't understand why you're apologizing if there's nothing to apologize for."
"I feel guilty that I left."
"We weren't in a place where we could decide where we wanted to go." You pause. "The child would have slowed you down. Leona's great, but if I told you that you had a daughter, you would have left everything behind just to return. I did not want to tear that away from you."
"I—"
"You couldn't have raised a child with your job." You hum. "I don't despise you for it."
"And then? Did you love me at all? You never let me decide what I wanted and didn't want to do." He grimaces. "I would've put you two first. You know that. I loved you even while I should not have. You should know better than anyone that I would have been hung up over you. You can not replace my first love in my heart and then not tell me about Leona."
"It's unfortunate I did, then."
"I... still love you." He mumbles. "It's fine if it's not mutual, but please don't cut me out of your life again. Let me make the choices this time. We're both at an age where we can."
You finally look at Leon, and you sigh. "I won't stop you, but do not expect anything back from me."
"I won't."
You wonder if you should fear getting used to being taken care of by Leon. You play cards with him by the pool, drink with him at the bar, lie with him under the warm sun, and you wonder if you've gone back in time for a moment. Is this it? Is that it? Is that all there is to this? Is all it took a sincere apology from him? You feel like you should apologize as well, but there's just something stuck in your throat whenever you try and bring it up.
"Hey, Leon, did you ever hate me?" You glance at the wine in your glass, and Leon raises a brow from the hotel room. You wonder when the two of you had become close enough to share a room again. Is this some weird form of being roommates? You're too old for this, you think. You're far too old to be having a moment like this.
"No. Well, I was hurt when you told me to leave, but I never hated you." He hums.
"Good, since I feel like I still owe you an apology and all that." You mumble. "Sorry for forcing choices upon you. I just... I always feel like you can do better."
"Oh, honey, you are better." He mumbles, raising a brow at you from his bed as you frown.
"Sure, but I'm still sorry for being a terrible person." You mutter. "I can't guarantee anything from your efforts, but I appreciate you a lot."
Leon raises a brow at your words, but he doesn't speak up.
"Anyways. Maybe I'm just some control freak who needs to know everything that's going on like some maniac." You tuck your legs under your chin, staring out at the ocean as Leon seems to remember something. You don't know what, but you feel too vulnerable to find out, opting to stay in place and blink instead. The waves crash against the sand gently, and even when the lights are turned off and you're stuck in bed, you wonder if something's wrong. There's always something wrong.
You step out of the room, stepping on the beach as you wrap the robe around you tighter. The waves are higher now, and as you dip your feet in the cold water, you wonder what it'd be like to float off into the distance. Right. right. No, you have a daughter who would ruin her life in order to fix yours. You wonder how you managed to raise her to be the way she is without a father in the house. Maybe you sold your soul in order to do that.
The waves eat at your ankles, night breeze rustling your hair, goosebumps snaking up your calves as you continue staring into the distance. You don't know. You wonder if you could just keep playing stupid and not knowing. It had worked until Leon stumbled back into your life. Well, stumbled would be the wrong word. He kind of... crashed into your life again. You still wonder if his mission was truly a mission. He was always the type to make harmless jokes when it came to you.
It probably isn't. You saw him working on his laptop before you tucked yourself in.
"You're up." Leon's voice emerges from behind you, and you take a step back to turn.
"Yes." You hum.
"Couldn't sleep?"
"No." You close your eyes as the wind blows again.
"What's wrong?"
"A lot." You mumble. "Though, not much of it is my choice. I'm wondering if I can just go back to playing stupid."
"You should see a therapist." Leon cracks a smile. "Mine's pretty good."
"No wonder you've changed so much." You sport the same smile, stepping out of the water back into the sand. "Let's go back."
"Will you be able to sleep?"
"Time will tell."
You aren't able to, but at the very least you catch three hours of rest before you emerge from bed with bedhead you hadn't seen since your youth. Leon laughs as he brings you breakfast, and you sigh, raking your hands through your hair.
"How's Leona?"
"I think she went to Amsterdam or something."
"How are you sustaining her lifestyle?"
"I know this is hard to believe, but our company actually pays a livable wage for all of us since we know too much. The government has compensation for our work too. We're basically entangled with the government at this point."
"And you don't pay for your life?"
"No bad sides. I don't know which senators and people of the cabinet decided to bomb the city. I just know it was bombed. It's why you received such a vague order."
Leon puts your breakfast down by your legs.
"Thank you." You hum. "How'd you sleep?"
The look on Leon's face implies something along the lines of getting the best rest in a while.
"That's good." You start at breakfast, staring at the lower tides before glancing at Leon. "Did we ever go on a beach date? I forgot."
"Us and what beach? We were landlocked."
"True, huh." You think to yourself, eating absentmindedly as Leon changes in the bathroom. You glance at the robe on yourself, and you wonder if you should just go naked or something. No, you'd probably get sniped or something. Shorts it is.
You place the tray on the table as you finish, wiping your mouth when Leon steps out of the bathroom.
"Wowwwww..." You grin. "Stay in shape, Agent Kennedy?"
"Government-mandated." He chuckles. "When do you go back?"
"In like, two days. You gonna catch a flight back with me?"
"How else am I going to get back?"
"Not sure." You hum. "Maybe swimming?"
"On an island in the middle of the Atlantic? Tough luck." He hums.
Leon settles back into your life after that. You wonder if this would categorize as co-parenting or being roommates, but you don't put a label to anything. It's not worth the time and effort. The PTO was good for your soul, but you return to being a corporate slave in the end anyway. Only, you wish Leon would stop stirring up more trouble when picking you up downstairs at your office each day. Would it kill him to be a little more secretive? Well, not like you told him about it. You used to like it when he did that while dating.
"You got me flowers?" You raise a brow, taking them from him as he nods.
"How was work?"
"It was fine. If you think this is all it takes to win me back, though? Not happening." You glance at the flowers. "Though, thank you for the flowers."
You're sure your coworkers are going insane over this. You don't know how long you had been single when most of your coworkers had gotten married and hitched. It really wasn't something on your mind after having Leona. So, for you to be going through the whole courtship thing again from Leon was a little strange. Well, not that you mind being pampered.
"Are you driving us home?" You raise a brow.
"I promise not to crash." He shows you the car keys, and you sigh. Well, if you die, you die.
You yawn as you get on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as he takes you home. You wonder if Leona's home by now. She's probably unpacking again. You're not really surprised when you get home and she has her stuff sprawled out in the living room. Well, as long as it's not hurting anyone.
"What's this?" You pick up a keychain with a rabbit. "Miffy?"
"Miffy! The Dutch rabbit that Japan loves." Your daughter hums. "Isn't she cute?"
"Yes, she is." You hum. "Should I..."
"Don't check my credit card statement, please." She mumbles. "I've made some bad decisions."
"As long as you can pay it off." Your brows furrow as you contemplate. "Yeah, as long as you won't end up in debt."
She gives you a thumbs up. "You can have the one you picked up. There should be another one in blue for Leon."
"You got him something?"
"Appreciate it." He picks up the keychain, glancing at the doll. "The agents are about to have a field day when they see this keychain."
"Too out of character?"
"No, last time I had a keychain was in Spain." He hums. "I ended up giving it to Ashley."
"She still uses it." Leona speaks up. "I was out with her this time."
"When the hell did you get so close to the ex-president's daughter?"
"When I went on my sorority trip. She liked me a lot since I look so much like Leon."
"When are you going to start calling me dad?"
"Never." Leona deadpans. "You've been missing all my life. Don't push your luck."
Leon pouts, squeezing the keychain gently to calm himself.
"Yeah, she flew me over. She's great. Saw her texting Leon on the trip, though. You wanna explain that?"
"I was looking for your mom." Leon hums.
"Oh, the flowers." You remember, kicking your shoes off as you rest them on the counter.
"Yeah, I told her you're my biological dad and she told me about some agent you were flirting with in Spain."
"Not a government agent." He clears up. "She's someone I met in Raccoon City."
"Kissed?"
He grimaces as your daughter takes it as a yes. "If you cheat on mom, I'm going to ruin your life."
"How?"
"You'd be surprised how many senator's children go to my uni. Stay keen, and don't be an ass."
Leon settles into a schedule of picking you up after work, a different trinket in hand each time he picks you up, and you always take it, placing it in a box in the living room, the three of you eating together for dinner. You wonder if Leona has ever considered having a dad. Maybe she gave up a long time ago when you explained to her that her dad was someone in your past. Well, that statement sure came to bite you in the ass. He's not so much of someone in the past now, is he? You wonder if Leona would have something to say if you were to start with Leon again.
Yet, you don't tell her what happened on the island for the time being, her busy with her studies before the start of summer. So, instead of calling her and keeping her up, you let her tend to her own watching as she grumbled over all-nighters and classwork that wasn't ending. Despite her running around for her break, she wasn't gonna be able to run from her finals.
"Can you lobby so my professors get fired and I have no exam?"
"Tough luck, baby." You laugh. "I'm not in that line of business."
"I am, though." Leon hums. "Who do you need gone?"
"Leon." You warn. "No."
"His name's—"
You sigh as the two of them get into hypotheticals about taking out her professor with a sniper rifle, and you wonder where Leona had learned all of that. Though, from the stuff you had seen on the shared desktop before she got her own laptop, you think you know. It's whatever... it was probably from Twitter or one of her fanfictions. You wonder if the unrestricted internet access as a teenager was worth it — well, not your problem. She's gotten off boyfriend-free and kid-free so it's fine. There are worse things that could happen.
You wonder how much more help Leon could have been when she was going through that fic writing phase of her in middle school. You're sure all that knowledge of weapons could have helped her a lot. Well, not that you mind it anymore. It's nice to see the two of them get along. She is her father's daughter, after all. It makes you wonder if this could have happened under different circumstances. Well, what point is there in moping over a universe that isn't yours?
"What's for dinner?"
"I made a reservation for a place." Leon hums. "It's pretty basic so you wouldn't need to dress up."
"Well, if anything, you'd be the one who needs to dress up." You raise a brow at Leon as he glances at the two of you, nodding slowly.
"It's just a family restaurant that gets busy around this time." He stares at his t-shirt and jeans.
"You know, Leon." Leona raises a brow. "I'm sure you don't just wear this while on duty. What do you wear normally?"
"It depends on the occasion. Most of the time it's a suit."
"Government agents in suits is crazy." You mumble. "And when you're out on a mission?"
"It's typically some sort of body armor and a compression shirt with cargo pants and combat boots."
"What brand does the government use?"
"There's a variety of suppliers, but the material stays the same. We aren't just sponsored by one."
"Democracy, or something." You hum. "What time is dinner?"
You wonder if Leona has ever entertained the idea of having a dad in her life. She had been adamant about letting you know as a teenager that she didn't care if she had no dad as long as you wouldn't disappear or just die, but you had a feeling that she had just lied at the time to make you feel better. Well, she had grown up without a dad, so it wasn't super surprising that she had ever wondered what it would feel like to have one. You wonder if you should have just dated, but there was no way you'd be able to with such a young child. Maybe you shouldn't have—
"Whatcha thinkin' bout?"
You space back in, striking the hammer one last time as the tent is set up properly. The insulation is set up thanks to Leona, and you start the grill outside in the camping zone. The stars are starting to show, and the moon sits high in the sky as you grill the meat. Leona refreshes for her grades, chewing on her bottom lip as you serve her dinner. She only lets out a sigh in relief when her grades all come back as normal.
"You alright?"
"My GPA will live." She huffs. "Thanks for dinner."
"Of course."
"It's been a while since we've done this." Leona stares up at the stars in the forest as you crack open a can of beer for the two of you. "Is this about Leon?"
"You don't need to call him that." You hum. "I thought I'd get your opinion. I'm your mom just as much as I am my own person."
"I'm fine with it." Leona hums. "You've... I don't know. You've grown softer since he's joined us. Ugh, I'm not good at this like you are."
You laugh, adjusting the blanket on her as you turn to face her.
"You won't be mad?"
"No. It'd be... nice to experience having a dad. officially. I can't lie and say I've never once wondered what it's like to have a dad." Leona huffs. "Though, please let me punch him at least once when he officially asks you out."
"In the face?"
"I might break my fist, but hey, at least I broke his nose."
You wonder what universe you saved in a past life to deserve a daughter like this. Though, not that you complain of it. Leona lets out a sigh in relief when her grades come out unscathed, and you press the can to your lips as she catches you up on what was going on. Sorority drama sounds like a lot to you, but Leona handles it all just fine. She likes it there, and while the people around her have their flaws, you're glad she can see past most of them. At least she knows how to stay sane.
You can tell Leon's trying. He spends less time on his laptop at night, typing less and less details on your day-to-day life before it completely is voided, and when you try and ask, he tells you the mission is over. You wonder if that means he'll go back to his work clothes. Yet, for some reason he stays in the apartment next door, taking you to work each morning as he insists it's "on the way" (it's not). He always takes you back with flowers, your coworkers getting unbearable to a certain degree as they pry into your day-to-day life. You tell them that he's just trying to court you.
"Water," Leon hands Leona her bottle as she waves goodbye, handing you your bag as you follow after her while doing your hair. You stare at the mirror by the door, smoothing it out as you blink at Leon's crooked tie.
"Tie." You don't think, fingers sliding under Leon's tie as you unravel it, tying it properly as he holds his breath, daring not to move as your fingers smooth over the clothes, patting his chest as you turn back around you make sure your hair is fine. Leon tries to calm his racing heart as the two of you step into his car, his heart beating so hard he's sure he could throw up on command. Intimate. Too intimate. You can feel it too. The last time you had done that was when the two of you were young. Much younger. The racing heart makes Leon think that the two of you really haven't changed all that much.
"Have fun at work."
"Thank you." You step out of the car, waving as Leon watches you enter the building before driving off.
You calm your racing heart, ears ringing all the way to your floor as you exhale. Habit. You hadn't done it for Leon in such a long time, but the familiarity of reaching for his crooked tie and fixing it was like second nature to you. Maybe you haven't changed. Maybe neither of you changed, and at the rate that things were going, you think it's fine that neither of you has outpaced the other. The two of you are parallel lines, holding hands all the way as the two of you move through life. It's fine. You're fine. You'll be fine.
Leon picks you up after work like he always does. You stare out the window the whole time, silence pooling in the car as you think. You think too much while you think less and less these days. What are you doing here? Why are you here? Is the only thing stopping you from dating him your own flaws? Why are you letting them get in the way when you could be peeling back your skin and laying bare to him? He won't hurt you, you know that much.
You know what comes next. You have the feeling, you always do. You know that at one point Leon's going to try and confess to you, and you wonder if he could possibly outdo himself from last time. You wonder if he'll show up with flowers and a teddy bear to your apartment like he did the first time. You wonder if you could skip the formality and just confess to him first. It would be funny and catch him off guard, you think. When you spot your favorite for dinner, you think you will.
"Leona's gonna have dinner with friends." You sit down, thanking him as he hands you a plate.
"I know. She texted."
"Mhm." You wait for him to sit down before eating, lips curled upwards as you grin. "Leon, will you go out with me again?"
He's caught off guard, fumbling with his fork as he blinks at you. "Pardon?"
"Will you go out with me again? I have a lot of flaws, but—"
"Yes! Yes. Oh, my god. Yes." Leon blurts. "I was supposed to confess first, my god. I feel like this is our first date all over again— I'm still in love with you despite everything, and I'm begging you for the chance to date you again on a clean slate. This time, we both make our own decisions without regrets, and we talk it out when we have disputes. This time, I won't leave no matter what, and if I need to leave, I bring you with me. Please go out with me— I will kneel and beg."
"There has got to be a better way to say that." You laugh, watching as Leon slides out of his seat to grab something behind the counter for you. "And if I say no?"
"I imitate the meme that Ashley's been sending me with the text messages and fall on my knees and beg."
"Sounds really tempting..." You tap your chin. Leon grabs your hands, frowning at you gently as you reach up instinctually to smooth out the crease between his brows. "I was kidding. Please treat me well."
"I'll make sure you never need to think again." He mumbles, pressing your fingers to his lips as you hum. "Please accept the flowers."
"Will you get me flowers once a week?"
"I'll make sure you never have to lift a finger to do housework. I'll retire for you."
"Are you really sure you'll be allowed to do that?"
"As long as the president orders it." He mumbles. "I'll just say I can't work anymore and fake a doctor's order."
You laugh, raising a brow. "You'll do that for me?"
"And much more." He mumbles, lowering his head into your lap. "As long as you give me the chance."
"Then be sure to hold on."
"Forever and ever, always."
The door to the apartment clicks open, and Leona stares at the second bouquet on the living room table.
"Ma?"
You nod.
"Leon, how sturdy are you?" Leona raises a brow, tossing her backpack to the side and ditching her jacket.
"I'm mostly muscle. Why?"
"Leona's gonna swing at you, give her a second." You take a step back with the flowers, Leona winding up her arm as Leon blinks. "No, you're not allowed to dodge. Think of it as playful fighting. It's to welcome you into the family."
"Please be gentle. I've seen your arm muscles, and there's a high chance it'll bruise or kill me." Leon clenches his jaw, wincing as Leona lands a hit on his cheek, sound making the two of you blink. Leon rubs his jaw, laughing as he winces.
"Sorry, dad. Had to do it." She grins, shaking her hand as the words punch Leon a second time.
"Say that again."
"Hm? Sorry?"
"No, you called me dad."
You hide behind the flowers as you laugh, watching as Leon grabs Leona by the shoulders and beams.
"Say it again."
"Alright, old man. You're pushing your luck now." She rolls her eyes, kicking her shoes off and falling back onto the couch to escape his grasp. "We've got plenty of time. Also, you're paying for my tuition now."
"Oh my god, I'm a dad."
You squat to the ground as you laugh, back shaking as Leon stands there, dazed.
Leona takes the chance to slip away, and as the living room fills with your laughter, you think it'll be fine.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#reader insert#resident evil#☾.fics#y'all ever want smth out of the drafts so bad you start dying (me)
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• mean brat taming dom ii who is SO soft with u after (my hc says there’s no way he’s not into impact play tbh)
• ivy being the absolute softest gentlest daddy dom ever (tell me he doesn’t give that strong gentle energy. the praise he would give?! UGH)
• primal feral vessel claiming you after chasing you through the forest. right there on the leaf littered floor
• iii edging you over and over on his thigh until you’re sobbing and brain dead (really i just think iii would enjoy being as much of a fucking tease as possible. whispering dirty thoughts in your ear through the day. stealing spicy touches. leading up to when he can finally get you alone and drive you REALLY crazy)
• reader x vessel x ivy threesome. soft daddy dom ivy and mean dom vessel
i have too many filthy ideas but no ability to write them so 🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡 godspeed, hope these inspire some filth from you!
- thirsty girl 💘
Count ‘em ✶ II x GN! Reader
Warnings: nsfw, smut, impact play (spanking, light slapping, choking, pinching, hair pulling), degradation, oral (m receiving), mean! ii
TRUST when I say I will be returning to this ask to write something for every prompt. Also, THANKS for some ii stuff!! I was feeling bad that I only had one thing wrote for him 🤍🤍
!! mdi !!
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“Move it, I’ve already said it once. That should be enough.” His voice is stern, his eyes serious as he impatiently drums his fingers on his legs.
You knew him well enough at this point to know what his calm demeanor truly meant. Even the way he undressed you minutes before had been slow and careful. Only you knew that the second he got you over his lap, his actions would not be gentle.
You swallow nervously, hoping he can’t hear the sound of your heart about to break through your chest. You knew your brattiness throughout the day had gotten you here. Your unrelenting back talk and attitude wasn’t something you gave ii often, but for whatever reason, you wanted to see how far you could push him today.
You’re slow to move towards him, his full and undivided attention on you feeling as if it was about to burn a hole into the side of your face. He lets you help yourself onto his lap, crawling to lay face down across his spread thighs. His hand is heavy on your back once you get settled, sliding up your spine to rest in between your shoulder blades. “What’s up with you today? You’ve been awfully difficult.” His hand moves up into your hair to tug, pulling your head back slightly. “Hm?”
You think about your answer carefully and decide to just be honest with him. He’d know anyway if you were lying. “I think it’s fun.” Your hand grips his calf when he tugs harder, isolating a chunk of hair at the crown of your head. “Fun? To mess with me? To irritate and piss me off to no end? You think that’s fun, is what I’m hearing?” You nod meekly, silently enjoying the pull on your hair. He only hums and reaches his other hand around to wrap around your throat, applying enough pressure to make breathing slightly more difficult, but not enough to make you panic for air.
“Well I don’t think that’s very fun at all. In fact, only a desperate, pathetic little whore would find something like that to be fun. Is that what you are then? A desperate and pathetic whore?” The hand in your hair disappears to grope roughly at your ass before settling on a cheek, leaving a stinging pinch. You take in a short gasp of air at the sting, earning a quiet snicker from ii. His full hand comes down in a dull smack before massaging over your skin. “You make it so easy, you know. Your skin practically begs to be marked up. You seem to want that too, don’t you? You wouldn’t act up if you didn’t.” Another, this time harsher smack is dealt. “I didn’t get an answer to my question.” The hand around your throat tightens.
Your eyes close in a long blink before you attempt a nod. He makes a sound of disappointment next to you. “You know you’re supposed to use your words. Don’t play dumb.” His hand moves to the back of your thigh to pinch and pull at the skin.
You squirm and squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes. I’m a desperate and pathetic whore.” This earns you a groan and another spank. “There you go. Maybe you can follow instructions. Why don’t you count ‘em for me, hm?” His touch is soft as he runs his hand up your back. Your mumbled and nervous “okay” is enough for him to swat at your ass again. He waits for your response before landing another. “2…” The pain is tolerable but you know he’s just warming up.
He lands 10 solid smacks, each progressively getting harsher before massaging his hand over your stinging skin. You hiss at the touch and make a poor attempt to shift your hips away from him. “I like watching you jolt from the pain. The little gasps you let out.” The hand around your throat moves to run through your hair.
He repeats the same actions on the other cheek, but doesn’t build up at all. The 10 makes your skin sting, like hot fire, your eyes watering at the repeated blows. II knows you can take it, knows you enjoy it. Clearly evident by the way moans and whimpers flood out of your mouth and your hips grind down on his thigh.
He lets you rest, massaging his fingers over your scalp, his other hand lightly scratching over your back. “On your knees now.” He says after his moment of quiet tenderness. Excitement blooms in your stomach, ready and aching to take more than just his harsh hands. You’re slow to move off his lap and even slower to sink to the floor. The skin on your ass is hot against your calves and ankles, a dull but persistent sting radiating as you get situated on your knees.
II cups the sides of your face, moving your head side to side as he looks down at you. His thumbs move over your cheeks before he leans down to press his mouth to yours. It’s harsh and rushed. Teeth clashing together before he bites over your bottom lip. His hand returns around your throat before he drags you up to stand on your knees. He roughly grips your hip, digging his fingertips into the skin, hard enough you’re sure to see a bruise in the morning. He licks into your mouth a final time before breaking away from you. He groans when he looks at you. Hair messed up from his hands, lips red and slightly inflamed, the skin on your neck a bright white with how much pressure he’s applying to your throat. His thumb absentmindedly runs over your lips before he hooks it over your bottom lip to force your mouth open. Your tongue comes out to lick over his thumb, earning another low groan from ii. “Such a pretty mouth. I’m gonna fuck it.” His thumb messily runs over your outstretched tongue. An inadvertent whimper comes from you at those words, your hands impatiently grabbing at his thighs. He snickers at you before standing to remove his jeans.
Both his hands cradle your head in surprising tenderness but his eyes and facial expression are cold and stern as he looks down at you. He lightly slaps your cheek twice and you take that as a cue to open your mouth for him. He hums, sliding one hand to the back of your head. He wastes no time in sliding his cock fully into your awaiting mouth. II’s jaw clenches and his hips buck towards you when your lips wrap around him. “Put that mouth of yours to good use.” He grunts, cock moving in and out of your mouth quickly. His too tight grip on your hair makes you whine around him and squeeze your eyes shut. A harsher slap lands on your cheek. “You keep your eyes on me.” It almost comes out in a growl as he practically straddles your face, forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he can. He doesn’t let up despite your watering eyes, gags and nails digging into the skin on his thighs.
You know he’s close when the sounds he lets out become higher pitched and the rhythm of his thrusts turn disjointed. “Take it. Be good and take it.” He breathes out before letting out a long groan. His movements pause as he cums at the back of your throat, his hand holding your head close to him. You breathe through your nose and patiently wait for him to pull away from you. You can finally close your eyes, forcing leftover tears down your cheeks when he backs away. You stay looking up at him, his chest heaving, eyes heavy and relaxed now.
He lazily reaches out to brush over the top of your head and wipe over your cheeks. He holds his hand out for you, letting you take your time in rising to your feet. He pulls you into a long hug, hands running up and down your back. He guides you to lay on the bed, insisting you lay on your stomach. He lays next to you for a short while, asking you repeatedly if you’re okay, peppering kisses on the side of your face. He leaves your side and comes back with water and an ice pack. He watches you sip the water while holding the ice on your still red hot skin. He coos at you when you wince, shuffling closer to you as he watches you with concern filled eyes.
Your tiredness eventually catches up to you and you’re not sure how long you’ve dozed off before you feel ii straddle your hips. You whine when his hard again cock pushes against you. “Mm, don’t touch…it’s too much.” You furrow your brows and try to shift away from his hands that brush over your aching skin. “Shhh, I know, love. You’ve been so good for me…wanna help you. I’ll be gentle. I promise.” His voice is quiet as he leans over you, nuzzling his head against your neck. He lazily mouths over your skin and ever so slowly inches into you.
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The way I could not focus for more than 5 minutes while writing this 🙃 I had different plans for this but I just could not use enough brain power to write it lol
BUT I’m so excited to return to this ask!!! So many good ideas 👏🏻 thank you again anon 💘
Anyway, hope y’all enjoyed!
K. Bye bye.
#sleep token#sleep token worship#sleep token fic#sleep token x reader#sleep token smut#sleep token ii#ii sleep token#sleep token ii x reader#ii x reader
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Do you agree that Chloe only cared about Adrien cause of his social status ? Cause that's what Astruc has said on Twitter regarding how Chloe viewed her friendship with Adrien. Do you believe this intent of their relationship was portrayed correctly in the show ?
I think that this statement accurately describes the way that Chloe was written in season one. She never read as Adrien's close friend and we got scenes like these two from Dark Cupid where she wanted his autograph to show off for some reason:
Chloé: Hi Adrien, sign here please. Adrien: (sighs) Oh, come on, you know I hate signing autographs, Chloé. Chloé: Oh, that's not what this is. This is a petition against cruelty to hamsters. Have you seen some of the ugly sweaters they are forced to wear? It's appalling. (Adrien begrudgingly signs the poster. Chloé hugs the poster and Sabrina smiles before they notice Marinette who is digging through a trash can as she pulls out a sheet of paper.)
[Scene change]
Chloé: Keep dreaming all you want girls but the boy is mine. (Sabrina nods before unrolling the poster, the girls gasping) Aurore: "To Chloé, the most awesome girl in the world and the love of my life. Signed, Adrien." (All the girls begin to cry, then Chloé looks at one girl who tries not to burst out crying) Chloé: Uh, she's not crying enough.
However, much like Alya's obsession with Ladybug's secret identity and Adrien's ability to leave his house, this part of Chloe's character disappeared after season one, making it feel like something they tried and then decided to discard. While that's not a sign of great writing quality, it's also not a neon warning sign. It's not unusual for formula shows to have these kinds of growing pains. First seasons often have random things that contradict later seasons such as everything about Nathalie's season one writing.
So while season one backs this read, I don't think it's fair to say that Chloe read this way any time after season one and season one is full of things that got discarded, so it's not grasping at straws to say that season one Chloe wasn't fully formed. This is especially true because of the way the writers reintroduced her in both Origins and season two.
Origins introduced many new elements such as Adrien's social isolation and the wish that was driving Gabriel to terrorize Paris. In other words, it's the episode that lays the groundwork for the entire show. If a thing is in Origins, then it matters because the writers only had 40 minutes to establish every important element for how they want these character to be read. This is a problem because Origins didn't make Chloe a vapid mean girl who clung to new boy Adrien. Instead, Origins had Adrien walk into school, see Chloe, and call her by name, leading her to reply with a dorky childhood nickname:
Adrien: Hey, Chloé! Chloé: Adrikins! You came!
She's also the only person who knows that Adrien will be starting school this year because, for some reason, Origins made the choice to elevate Adrien and Chloe's relationship to close childhood friends. That is NOT the kind of move you make if you want Chloe to feel like someone who only cares about Adrien for his fame. While that may potentially happen in real life, this is a story. The writers have full control over the characters' backstories. Who in their right mind picks a childhood friends backstory to complicate things if they don't want Chloe to really care about Adrien as a person?
Despair Bear only further contradicts this "Chloe doesn't care" idea by having Chloe break down over the idea of Adrien ending their friendship:
Jean: Mademoiselle does not look very happy, today. (lifts up a plate of luxury chocolates and offers them to Chloé.) (Chloé grabs the chocolates all at once and eats them, concurrently, and then weeps) Chloé: Adrien says I have to be nice to everyone or he won't be my friend anymore! How can he do this to me, Jean-Michel? Jean: Uh, my name is... hm, never mind. Ah, perhaps Mademoiselle can see comfort with Mr. Cuddly? (Chloé is delighted and grabs Mr. Cuddly, her teddy bear, and hugs it)
[Image description: Chloe crying and eating chocolates because Adrien said they can't be friends anymore]
This is not the kind of reaction you give a character who doesn't care about Adrien on a personal level. She comes across as caring about him deeply. If she didn't care, then she'd probably just brush him off and say, "Your loss." But she doesn't. She reacts with the same sort of sorrow that we see when her parents are akumatized or when her mother refuses to acknowledge her.
We also see her go out of her way to try to appease Adrien by throwing a party and forcing herself to play nice so that he stays her friend. She only stops playing nice when he promises that they'll stay friends:
Adrien: That was a great idea of inviting Marinette's dad! Chloé: I know. This way, no one can be mad at me for calling the fire department. I'm really nice now, did you notice, Adrikins? Even Ladybug said so! Didn't she, Jean-Pascal? Adrien: I'm proud of you, Chloé. I think you've proven that you're capable of making an effort to be nicer to everyone. Chloé: Aww, Adrikins! So we'll always be best friends, forever? Pinky swear? Adrien: Pinky swear! Chloé: (Exhales and saunters off) (To Kim) So, those macarons are dreadfully ugly. (Kim sighs.) (To Mylène.) Those are so greasy, you can see yourself in them. (Mylène cries and faint.) (To Marinette.) Urgh. Too disgusting for comment. (To Rose.) Those look horrible. (Rose faints.)
That is more effort than Chloe has ever put into anything on screen and that's a problem because - once again - this is not how you write a vapid mean girl who doesn't care. This is how you write someone who actually cares about Adrien. They even chose to show us young Chloe and young Adrien being cute during Chloe's "flashback" to getting her teddy bear:
[Image description: Teen Chloe surrounded by drawings of important childhood memories with her teddy bear. We see her getting the bear from a faceless figure, holding the bear as her mother walks away, sleeping with the bear, holding the bear while she cries, and excitedly showing the bear to a young Adrien]
There's also the issue that, after season one, Chloe doesn't seem to actually care that much about social clout. At that start of this post, I used a scene from Dark Cupid specifically because it feels kind of out of character for her. In the later seasons, Chloe may flaunt her social status and think that it makes her better than others, but she doesn't do things like the poster thing because that requires her to care what random people think and that's just not how she reads. Chloe reads more like someone who doesn't care what most people think because she thinks that she's better than them (or, at least, she wants to think that. Chloe has the potential to be a fun little ball of self-hatred and doubt, but either way, she is acting like she doesn't care what other people think outside of a very select group.)
I think this really shows when we compare Chloe to Lila. Lila reads like someone who cares about social clout. Someone who is desperate to be seen in a certain way. Someone who sees dating Adrien as a status symbol and nothing more. Chloe reads like someone who sees Adrien as the only person of her caliber, so of course they'd get together. That's a subtle, but very important difference. It's the difference between someone who doesn't have social clout and needs Adrien to get it and someone who already has social clout and therefore doesn't need a popular boyfriend to prop her up. She just thinks dating an unpopular boy is beneath her.
I've mentioned before that Chloe reads SUPER aroace to me and this is actually why. To me, it comes across like she does actually care deeply about Adrien, but she has no true romantic or sexual feelings for him or even any clue what those feelings actually feel like. Given the way her parents' relationship is written, I also don't see Chloe having a healthy idea of what a romantic relationship looks like. I think she sees it as a way to show off how much better you are then the nobodies of the world because love is for fairytales. Marriage is about alliances of wealth and power and Adrien is both wealthy and her childhood friend, so of course they'd get married! They already know that they can at least tolerate each other. Why look for a different match?
In summary: the writers may have wanted Chloe to be a vapid mean girl who didn't care about Adrien as a person, but they completely failed to write her that way after season one, so she comes across as genuinely caring, but unable to express those feelings in a healthy way because of her own issues and poor childhood.
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Hello!!! I love your blog and your Klaus stories. I had a little idea about him, Klaus x GN!Reader who is obsessed with his hips (because let's be honest, I'm totally infatuated with them *cough*). I imagine he would be a little tease about it when he'd notice how the Reader is feeling? Thank you in advance!
a/n: THANK YOU SO SO MUCHH ILY, IF U DONT LIKE THIS IM ALL DOWN TO REWRITE IT, LIKE GENUIENLY.
yall i tried my besttt, i didnt rlly know how to finish it so just don't judge alright I'm going to cry. besides that thank you so much for the support omgg so many ppl liked and reblogged my fics I'm so happy :)))
pairings: Klaus Hargreeves x Gn!reader
Summary: you are obsessed with Klaus's hips
Genre: fluff
Warnings: Alchohol, gn!reader, gender neutral reader, no y/n used. Klaus is a tease.
Word count: 500 something (i cant write long fics for my life yall)
You'd always heard it was the small things—the details about a person that drives you mad, that sneak up on you and settle deep in your bones until you can't shake them. You never believed it until... Klaus Hargreeves.
It wasn't his sly grin, nor his ability to light up your mood no matter what—you loved all that about him—but no, what got you were his hips.
you two were in your room, Klaus getting dressed and—you reading a book in your chair— if you’d even call it reading.
Klaus was pacing the room, shirt half-buttoned, his low-rise jeans peeking out as he rummaged through a pile of clothes—probably looking for a clothing piece he'd mindlessly tossed in his usual chaos, getting ready for Luther’s wedding.
You leaned back in your chair, pretending to be invested in the book on your lap. But your eyes betrayed you, trailing down to his hips—the way they moved perfectly in sync with his long legs, almost like a sensual dance that came naturally to him.
"What are you staring at, doll?" Klaus's voice pulled you back from your daze, and his smirk told you he already knew the answer. "Nothing," you mumbled, clearing your throat and returning to your book, hoping he wouldn't notice your fierce blush.
"Nothing, huh?" He sauntered over a cat-like grace to his steps.
Klaus leaned in, resting his hands on the arms of the chair you were sitting on. You could smell his cologne—a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him.
"You know," he drawled, "it's rude to stare without offering a compliment."
Your eyes snapped up to his face, heat rising to your cheeks. "I wasn't—"
"Oh, but you were," Klaus interrupted, his grin widening. He pushed off the chair and spun dramatically, arms outstretched. "So, what's the verdict? Do these jeans make my ass look good?"
You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. "You're impossible, Klaus."
"Impossibly charming, you mean," he winked, flopping onto your bed with a dramatic sigh. "Now, as punishment for your rudeness, I'm charging you with the task of helping me find those jeans. You know, the ones with the—"
"Sparkly skulls?" you finished for him, already moving to search through the chaos of his belongings. "I swear, Klaus, if you'd just organize your things..."
-----
Even in public, you'd find yourself staring. His hips were simply irresistible to you.
Everyone was drunk, even Five—a sight that was both amusing and unsettling. It was strange seeing him so nonchalant about the apocalypse.
the newlyweds were feeding each other.. strawberries. Across the room, Allison and Viktor were arguing about—something, their voices barely audible over the thumping music, and Diego had disappeared with Lila some time ago.
And then there was him. Klaus, the life of the party as always, was on the dance floor, his body moving in perfect rhythm to the beat. Your eyes couldn't help but linger on him, admiring how those jeans hugged his hips just right. Even during a world-ending disaster, Klaus had a way of commanding attention—and looking damn good while doing it.
As the night wore on, the party's energy seemed to fuel his every move. You watched him, and couldn't help but smile at how completely Klaus could captivate an entire room.
At one point, he spotted you from across the room. With a mischievous grin, he beckoned you over. and before you could react, he was at your side, pulling you into the crowd.
"Come on, doll," he said, his voice a playful purr. "You can't just stand there staring. Join me."
You laughed, letting him guide you onto the dance floor. For a moment, it was just the two of you, moving together in sync with the music. The world outside ceased to exist.
#fanfiction#klaus hargreeves x reader#the umbrella academy#tua#gender neutral reader#no y/n#x reader#tua fanfic#klaus hargreeves x you
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Merthur Fic Ideas & WiPs
So I have a Merlin fic ideas page over on Patreon but obviously I can't link direct to that from AO3. So I'm popping one on here so you all know what's incoming/in the works/rattling around in my brain.
Coming to AO3 September 29th 2024
The Water and the Wilds:
'Magic is as much part of nature as the earth, sea and sky. Other sorcerers who sought out the circle found that their power developed certain affinities. Their abilities became tied to the cycle of the year. There would be one season at which their power was at its peak and another where it lay almost dormant. They became more closely connected to the natural ebb and flow of the world.'
'But?'
'But they were not Emrys. His strength is beyond anything in living memory, and the heights he could reach are, as yet, unknown.' Aglain spread his hands, his shoulders rolling in a graceful shrug. 'I can only tell you that the Tir Na Lei means no harm. Three is the number: the ritual is set. The circle will not call on Emrys again.'
______
In a Camelot where Arthur is king and magic is permitted once more, Merlin's power begins to change. Can he and Arthur overcome the challenges thrown their way, or will their relationship be forever changed by the ordeal?
(Approx 50 k in length, rated E)
If you want to read what else is in-progress, check out below!
Works In Progress
(All drafts are currently available over on Patreon - first chapter free to read. The rest are available to patrons in the $5 tier and up. They WILL become available on AO3 eventually. See bio or pinned post for link if you're interested ♥)
King and Court - 24 chapters currently drafted and available on Patreon - this one will begin updating on AO3 next as it's the one I've written most of.
Summary: Loneliness is an insidious thing. When Merlin looks at Arthur, he sees not just a prince waiting for his time to rule, but a young man struggling to find his place in the world, with little help from anyone else.
The truth is, Arthur needs more than the friendship Merlin can offer. He needs people he can trust: men and women who will become his court and his confidants, and if he is going to survive to take the throne and lead Camelot into its golden age, he needs them sooner rather than later.
Finding loopholes in Uther’s laws is no easy feat. Court life is a dangerous game, but it’s one Merlin has every intention of winning so that Arthur can have knights of his choosing by his side.
And then there is the matter of his magic…
(In my head this is basically entitled *~shenanigans, love and a golden age~*. Canon divergent AU)
Love Is Never Lost - 11 chapters currently drafted and available on Patreon.
Summary: Uther Pendragon has never approved of Arthur’s friendship with Merlin. There had been disappointed sighs and whispered warnings, but Arthur had never thought it would come to this: scars on Merlin’s back and a manservant made hollow and thin by cruelty.
Yet Uther’s efforts to drive a wedge between them instead bring Merlin’s greatest secret to light, and once the wound of secrecy has been purged, their healing brings them closer together than ever before.
Much to Uther Pendragon’s horror.
When Merlin disappears, Arthur is left questioning the true honour of the crown and the value of a kingdom forever stained by his father’s tyranny. Will he answer the call of duty, or will he sacrifice everything to chase the cries of his heart?
Tags will include: magic reveal, corporal punishment, slavery themes (and all that may imply), missing presumed dead, good Morgana, Arthur's POV, slow burn, dreamwalking, happily ever after eventually plus whatever else shows up as I write these!
Sigh No More - 7 chapters drafted on Patreon. This fic is my beloved. My baby. I'm obsessed. Fantasy Age-Of-Sail AU
Summary: Prince Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Llamrei, would far rather spend his days patrolling Camelot's Waters than assume his place on the throne. Yet when he finds the wreckage of a vast ship and one lone survivor on board, nothing can prepare him for the path his life will lead.
Nor the demands his heart will make.
Hiraeth Ideas
Additions to the Hiraeth universe ideas : Just some little bulletpoints to remind me about things I would love to add to the Hiraeth verse once it's actually done.
Gwaine vs. a lemon
Merlin gets flu (my biologist heart wants to explore Merlin's immune system vs. Camelot germs plus no modern drugs. Excellent hurt/comfort opportunity - not that Hiraeth really needs more of that.)
Merlin "tormenting" Arthur via the bond (Explicit, definitely)
Merlin shows Arthur (and others?) modern London.
The knights of Camelot at the zoo (sort of)
Maps/globes/celestial bodies knowledge
💀 Agravaine 💀
The one with the eclipse (some king and his sorcerer are trying to show off said sorcerer's power. There just so happens to be an eclipse.They know what it is so Merlin cannot claim credit, but he totally fucks with them anyway.)
Non-Hiraeth ideas
Magic Reveal Via Time-Travel (Added June 2024)
Merlin and the knights get themselves into some kind of dire situation. Merlin, in a panic and realising he's not strong or knowledgable enough to save them, pretty much demands that the universe in general sends someone who can help.
What actually happens is he gets flung five years into the future, and his future self (who is more capable, among other things) takes his place. He sorts out the dire situation, whatever it may be, and that leaves Arthur and the others with future!Merlin, who is not only very magically capable but 100% their Merlin with lots more confidence, as irreverent as ever, and unmistakably thrumming with magic. They can all feel it, because Merlin makes no effort to hide.
More to the point future!Merlin remembers this from the other side, when he was younger and the same thing happened. He knows this is when the others find out about his magic, and he is able to answer their questions and emotional responses calmly and rationally, because he already knows Arthur isn't going to kill him or hate him or anything.
(Quite the opposite, in fact, since he's having to hide the fact that Arthur's ring is currently gleaming on his finger. He is grateful, at least, that he wasn't a. Pulled naked out of the bath for this magical meeting or b. wearing his crown, which would have been hard to explain without breaking Arthur's tiny brain.)
Meanwhile, young!Merlin is in Camelot, five years in the future, and Arthur and the others are a bit older, a (very little bit) wiser, and are also doing a brilliant job of calming him down and letting him know everything will be all right. And actually showing him the golden age they achieve -- that it's not impossible and out of reach.
Possibly a long four parter from young!Merlin, young!Arthur, older!Merlin and older!Arthur's points of view. Assuming I can write it without being confusing 🤣
Merlin's Voice - possibly a bit dark
My desire to put Merlin inhurt/comfort situations knows no bounds, but this one actually stems from the fact that Merlin doesn't remember the hug after he's been missing in Servant of Two masters and I'm weak for Arthur being a worried angsty little lamb about his missing manservant.
I'd probably go AU and make Morgana good, with Merlin's magic being known, and just have Morgause basically taking Morgana's place, except she and Agravaine are trying to get information about Camelot's weaknesses, and who better to lean on than Arthur's idiot manservant.
Cue Merlin being missing for days, Arthur panicking, Agravaine being dismissive as usual, and Morgause growing increasingly frustrated at the fact that she cannot get anything of note out of Merlin.
In the end, she tries a spell to force him to speak, except that Merlin is so fiercely determined not to betray Camelot and Arthur that his own magic takes the spell and twists it, forging it into a spell of silence instead.
Morgause gets cruel in her frustration, but eventually, Merlin manages to escape and head back for Camelot. It's no easy journey, and more to the point, the spell silencing him will not come off. No matter how hard he tries. He was so determined not to say anything that his magic went overboard in an effort to meet his intent.
I want to write that hug so Merlin remembers it. I want to have Arthur initially teasing about the silence but getting increasinlgy distressed by it. I want the realisation that Merlin is so incredibly expressive that the others rarely need him to write what he wants to say, they can get the gist of it from just a look.
It's one of those ones with ~vibes~ I want to explore, but I have no idea how it ends.
The "Back To The Start" One
So I made this post on Tumblr and it did numbers (I was thinking 4 people would "hell yes" me, not 2000 +)
"Not me sitting here thinking about writing a fic where we start with Arthur dying in Merlin's arms after Camlaan and it's all tragedy and then the magic rises and they both end up back at that first day, in the marketplace, Merlin with "How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?" dying on his lips as they stare at each other, fascinated, horrified, so fucking relieved because they both remember ALL of it and none of it's happened yet and this time they can maybe make it to a different, better ending.
And they can do it together."
BUT TO EXPAND
I want to explore how Arthur and Merlin would interact with each other having lived in one another's pockets for ten years, only to be sent right back to the beginning, while retaining everything they are to each other. Merlin's magic newly revealed from the confession by the lakeside. The two of them standing there with every mistake in their future rather than their past and realising that maybe "two sides of the same coin" means "you need to work together, dumbass".
I want the two of them shocked by how young the other is. How different Camelot seems from what they're used to. How harsh Uther looks now that they know it can be different (though not as different as it should be, Arthur realises.) I want them correcting their mistakes (and each other's mistakes) and taking all that they know of each other and rebuilding their relationship (all their relationships, actually) on that honesty.
And the others don't remember. Morgana is still Morgana, still struggling, but still hoping to be saved. Mordred's just a boy. Lancelot never sacrificed himself and it's so clear in Arthur's eyes that Gwen loved them both but that she loved Lancelot first and in a different way.
The knights end up at Camelot earlier simply because Arthur and Merlin set out to find them earlier.
("We need Gwaine." "Do we? Really?" "Yes, you great prat. Come on.")
And so much more.
The "Fake Favourite" One
This is basically me having a desperate urge to write all the political whatevers of Arthur taking Merlin as a favourite, smashed together with a fake dating AU.
Basic premise is simple: in an effort to avoid the latest princess eyeing up his hand for marriage (and with Uther's blessing, because it suits him for now to put off marrying Arthur to someone) Arthur decides that he will pretend Merlin is his lover and favourite. They spend all their time together anyway, and half the court rumour already appears to think they sleep together, so it will hardly be any change to either of them.
Except all Arthur has to do is say the words to make it happen, but there's a lot more to being a favourite than that. Merlin can't continue to serve him, and then there's the whole situation of a new wardrobe (which Merlin and his magic both fight against) the political wheeling and dealing that comes with a servant being elevated in status, not to mention the subtle ways in which the court first tries to manipulate Merlin, and then is manipulated by him in turn (for the good of Camelot)
What starts out as Arthur aggressively but jokingly courting Merlin (because Merlin said he was bad at it) ends up much closer to *actual* courting.
And no, Merlin cannot sleep in the antechamber, because the chambermaids will notice they're not sharing a bed.
(This basically would end up being a story about Merlin no longer being a servant but becoming a valued member of the court almost by accident (but being very good at it) and the two fools falling helplessly in love with each other while they pretend to be lovers.)
Morgana, Gwen and the knights would be placing ridiculous bets and generally watching it all with disbelieving horror and delight because only these two idiots could make falling in love so complicated.
The "Stuck In Close Quarters" One
Merlin and Arthur trapped underground in VERY close proximity (like lying on top of each other) and running out of air and Merlin’s magic is too weak (thanks to a battle maybe) to get them out but he can replenish the air but there is no way Arthur won’t notice.
Cue a magic reveal in close quarters and love confessions.
The Horn of Cathbad one
Merlin dies and due to some glitchiness with his magic, he doesn’t immediately come back. Instead, Arthur, in the freshness of his grief, reaches for magic.
He uses the Horn of Cathbhad to see Merlin again, knowing that if he summons Merlin’s ghost and looks back, then Merlin will stay. (Maybe Gaius warns him - but he doesn’t take it as a warning, but a blessing.)
And Merlin answers, and Arthur doesn’t dismiss his ghost. There are ghostly shenanigans and while it’s not the same as having his friend back, it helps. He doesn’t really have to grieve.
Except that Merlin’s spirit starts to become restless and angry, and it reaches the point where Merlin is *begging* Arthur to let him go. He doesn’t know about his immortality but something is pulling at him.
And Arthur finds the strength to let him go and it’s like losing him all over again.
And then, of course, Merlin comes back ❤️
Blind Merlin One
Arthur and co. suspect Merlin has magic but haven't spoken of it to him yet. While out on patrol, Merlin takes a curse meant for Arthur, one that effectively blinds him until "you see the truth". Arthur thinks it's about the magic and it dredges all that out into the open, but the curse doesn't leave. Merlin quickly adapts to using magic to "see" (in a manner of speaking) and keeps his eyes covered to hide their glow.
Of course, Arthur's threatened about Merlin's vulnerability and baffled about the curse etc. It turns out that the truth they need to see is how they feel for each other. Angst/hurt/comfort/fluff because I can.
Omegaverse One (Maybe a series? Sort of tempted to try out some MPreg)
Well off my normal beaten path, but I keep what-iffing it so I'm writing it down here (and will totally draw on some of the mechanics and plot points of Gilded Cage)
Not all magic users are Omegas, but all Omegas have magic, which means Merlin has more than one secret to keep, and he keeps it well. It "helps" that when he presented in Ealdor, one of the Alphas in the village attacked and bit him, forming enough of a bond to stabilise his biochemistry before he managed to escape. It was that incident that pushed him and Hunith into making him go to Camelot.
Merlin successfully hides what he is for years, thinking he's safe, but the Alpha who bit him never stops looking for him. The Alpha eventually tracks him down, threatens Merlin etc., but gets killed in a tavern brawl before he can make good on his threats. That, in turn, breaks the bond that's been keeping Merlin stable and able to pass, in general, as a beta.
Cue it all going a little bit to hell because Arthur thought he knew everything about Merlin and it turns out he really didn't, and now his irritating and attractive beta manservant who always smelled good is an irritating, attractive, sorcerous omega manservant who smells amazing... etc.
(and maybe this one sounded a lot better in my head? There's a whole heap of nuance I'm not putting down - but it's a possible future Merlin fic.)
Different curse fic
A sorcerer curses Arthur with magic in order to make the Pendragon heir everything that the king hates. He wants to see if he is a hypocrite who will spare his sorcerous son, or a tyrant who will damn the ties of blood and execute him.
Cue Arthur frantically trying to hide the fact that he has magic from everyone, including Merlin, except that's fantastically unsuccessful because Merlin has magic, knows magic, *is* magic.
Then you've got Merlin desperately trying to hide the fact that Arthur had magic from the court while concealing that *he* has magic from Arthur. He very small and tired and stressed about it.
But the upshot is that Arthur has a better understanding of magic - how it is not, in itself, bad or corrupt - and because his magic has no chill and absolutely adores Merlin it acts as the pivotal point that brings out all their secrets (and desire)
The Lancelot and a dead body one -probably shortish.
This is more a scene that anything, but I keep thinking of how to expand it a bit better (I did a text chat thing on tumblr about this plot bunny I need to write it one day)
Arthur and all the knights are in an antechamber off the armoury after an evening training session. The door is ajar. They hear Lancelot come in and Gwaine's about to call out to him when Merlin stumbles through the door.
'I need your help burying a body!'
And Lancelot doesn't squawk or demand answers but just says, in a "so done with this shit" voice: 'Again?'
Meanwhile Arthur and the others are like "What the hell?" and follow Merlin and Lancelot out towards the border of the Darkling Woods where there is a huge and very dead monster just.... lying there.
Then we have Merlin making desperate and really bad excuses, which Arthur would be more willing to pretend he believed if Merlin wasn't bloodied and swaying where he stood and also had flowers blooming around his feet, because Merlin used a lot of magic to take this thing down and it's kind of leaking a bit.
And then we go on from there with the knights spending all night trying to dig a big enough hole and asking questions and all that, and Merlin being too tired and beaten up to really put them off - and then I end it somehow. (I did say this was just a scene!)
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snackin' | gr63, lh44
i know halloween was a little ago but i came across this one imagine where george was a vampire and i couldnt stop myself from writing something with him in this role too. so sharpen ur teefs and bon appetit!
summary: the night of drunk confessions turned to be a little bit more surprising that expected
warnings: not too much of explaining this unusual condition, nothing too visual and gory tho
pairing: george russell x fem!mercdriver x lewis hamilton
"C'mon, play it again, please!"
Y/N wiped tears from her cheeks, feeling her stomach ache from laughter.
"You definitely rap better than you drive, mate" George said, taking a sip of wine and glancing at Lewis with feigned seriousness.
Lewis sighed, shaking his head and played again the song in which he managed to make an appearance.
As soon as the part with him appeared, Y/N and George took his phone, using the displayed lyrics and tried to rap along with the song, eliciting a smile from Lewis.
"You guys are too predictable."
"Come on, Lewis, live performance! For the most loyal fans!"
Y/N directed the wine bottle towards him as if it were a microphone. Hamilton couldn't stop the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He took the bottle from her and took a sip before leaning towards her phone, rapping once again, which of course was met with cheers and applause from his friends.
It was an early Saturday evening and the three friends were spending it together in a hotel room. The weather outside was cold and rainy, so instead of conquering the city, the Mercedes drivers decided to spend the pre-race evening in each other's company and with perfectly chilled wine.
When the song ended, Y/N handed the phone back to the man and sighed heavily, taking her glass.
"I have to admit, that was quite surprising."
"Believe me, I was shocked too when you said you couldn't tie your shoes until you were fourteen" Lewis replied, glancing at her.
"I agree, I thought you were at least a bit smarter than a goldfish" George added, earning a playful punch in the side.
"I'm curious with what you will shine, Georgie boy" she replied, raising an eyebrow. Silence fell for a moment as two pairs of eyes focused on the guy.
George pretended to ponder, but since the topic of confessions began, he knew exactly what he wanted to finally tell his friends. It was something slightly more serious than taking a part in a song or a belated ability to tie shoelaces.
He looked at his friends, at their slightly alcohol-distracted gazes and faint smiles playing on their faces. He knew these people for a long time; they were very close to him and he knew he could come to them with anything. So, he decided it was high time to be honest with them. Because that's what friends do, right?
"I'm a vampire" George threw this fact into the air as if they were discussing the weather.
Both Lewis and Y/N snorted, not taking his words seriously.
"Yeah, and Lewis is an eight-time world champion."
"Hey, cut it out" Lewis pointed a finger at her "But yeah man, that's a bullshit"
"In this matter, you're predictable too."
George sighed, taking another sip from his glass. He wasn't surprised by their reaction in any way though.
"No, no, go on, we're all ears. I'm just curioius why did you bring up such a topic in this state? I guess none of us is drunk after two bottles of wine, right?" Y/N said, pouring more wine into her glass.
"I'm saying this completely sober. I want to get it off my chest and know that I have no secrets from you" he admitted, looking at them. Both Lewis and Y/N became a bit more serious. Not that they believed in the nonsense he was currently saying, but the smiles disappeared from their faces.
"What do you mean by saying you're a vampire?" the girl asked, looking at him more focused.
George knew that no matter what he said, his words wouldn't replace any tangible actions.
"Can you take the bandage off your hand?" Russell asked, nodding towards her bandaged hand, which covered an unfortunate cut from a metal band she got on the track the previous day.
Y/N looked at him and remained motionless for a moment. After a few seconds, however, she began to unwind her bandage. When she finished, George reached out to her. She hesitantly handed him her hand. He gently grabbed the bandage and peeled it off, revealing a sizable, still fresh cut.
George closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling how his lungs filled with the sweet scent of the girl's blood. As his fangs shifted into feeding mode, he simply smiled. Upon seeing his teeth, Y/N quickly withdrew her hand and covered her mouth with her hands.
"Oh, fuck me."
Lewis was in shock no less than the girl, but neither of them moved an inch from the bed.
"Are you kidding us, right?"
Y/N struggled to shift her gaze from his teeth to his eyes and just as she doubted her friend's words for a moment, seeing his darkened irises made her realize that he probably wasn't joking.
"Talking about being a vampire is a pretty lame joke and frankly I think I could afford something better" George replied and finished his drink.
"Besides, I don't even know why I would bother fooling you with something like that."
The remaining two sat in shock, unsure of what to say. They weren't even sure if George was joking, but they could admit he had a point - why would he joke about this in the first place?
"Okay, let's assume you're actually a vampire," Y/N began, grabbing the bottle and not bothering to pour its contents into her glass. "Then why do you function normally in the sun? You eat and drink normal things too, right?"
"I admit, I thought it would be like that and at first I was scared shitless," George replied, reaching for the glass she filled. "But what you mentioned is total myths. Basically, everything I knew about vampires turned out to be total bullshit."
"What do you mean by that?"
Lewis furrowed his brow, listening attentively.
"I can function normally during the day; I just have to remember sunscreen because I can easily burn. I'm a bit more sensitive to sunlight, so most of the time I need to wear sungl-"
"No, that's bullshit, you wear them because you roar after every race, not because you're a vampire," Y/N shook her head, taking another sip of alcohol.
"I won't insist that it's different, but oversensitivity to light also plays a role in this," George explained. He was ready to dispel any doubts his friends had, just to make them feel comfortable and to ensure that their relationship didn't deteriorate.
"What about eating? You still eat everything normally, even right now we're drinking together" Lewis interjected, taking a sip from his glass.
"Yeah, that's another myth. I can eat and drink normal human food, but it doesn't satisfy my hunger. I can eat and eat and I'm still like a bottomless pit," he admitted "Once, Alex and I recorded a stream where we had a bet on who could eat more at McDonald's. I don't think I need to tell you who won."
"So, you eat only to-"
"To avoid raising any suspicions, yes" George nodded. He knew that the tougher part of the story was yet to come.
"So, how do you satisfy your hunger? I guess not with protein bars, right?" Y/N asked rhetorically.
"That's no longer a myth, I feed like all those pop-culture-created vampires" George explained.
"Do you kill people?" Lewis asked quietly. Not because he was afraid, but because he was worried about his friend. He knew that the only one in danger was George because he would never harm anyone. Not as a human, not as a vampire either.
George laughed and shook his head. "No, I don't kill people. Unless you count killing them with my looks, but that's a different story."
"So, what does this... process look like?" Y/N looked at him. Neither of them registered the moment when this conversation stopped being perceived as a joke and became one of the most serious conversations they've ever had.
"It looks like in the movies, but it's less dramatic. I don't know about other... ones of my kind, but I think I look fairly neat afterward."
"So, people are like walking Capri Suns for you?"
George laughed at his friend's original comparison and nodded.
"Yeah, that's more or less how it looks."
"And now? Are you hungry?"
Lewis asked. He was surprisingly calm and not worried, all he was just curious.
"Today is still fine, but I know I'll have to snack on something after the race tomorrow."
"Who do you feed on? How does it even happen? And most importantly, who knows about all this?" Y/N had too many questions and with each passing second more emerged, making the situation not any easier. "Holy shit, our friend is a vampire."
"You met Carmen, right?" George asked, to which both friends nodded. "She's my feeder, if I can call it that directly. The whole facade of a relationship is a pretty good and strong cover, as you can tell."
"Are you telling me that you're not a couple? Are you kidding?"
Y/N was even more shocked than hearing that his dear friend was a bloodsucker.
"Wow, you took this more seriously than the fact that a literal vampire is sitting next to you."
George pretended to be outraged, but continued anyway.
"Carmen is very close to me and is a wonderful person, but our relationship is more of an exchange transaction."
"Goddamn, it's just getting better and better."
Lewis laughed and reached for more wine, knowing that more alcohol would be useful for this conversation.
"So, Carmen is your walking Capri Sun, not bad."
Y/N sighed and handed Lewis her glass, grabbing the hotel phone and ordering a few more bottles of wine. It looked like it was going to be a long night.
The conversation among friends on this rather unusual topic flowed freely; it probably looked the same as if George had admitted that he sometimes talks in his sleep or that he kissed his cousin at the aunt's wedding. The friends accepted this news much better than George expected. He was genuinely happy that their reaction didn't foreshadow the end of their friendship.
"I'm convinced that Lewis tastes like chocolate milk."
Y/N declared, pointing with the glass she held towards Lewis. The trio was already quite drunk, but nothing indicated that they would part ways soon.
"I'm not sure how racially sensitive that was," Hamilton also took a sip from his glass.
"I think in both cases you'd be tasty. You guys have a good diet so nothing suggests it could be otherwise," George admitted, lying on his side and propping himself up with his hand.
"If you want, I can be your Capri Sun" the girl offered, looking at her friend.
"That's probably the most wholesome thing you've said to me lately."
George giggled, genuinely touched.
"I'm here for you too, George" Lewis said, looking at him. "And I do really hope that I taste like chocolate milk."
#f1 imagines#f1 one shot#f1 oneshots#f1#formula 1#george russell#george russell x reader#gr63#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#george russell x reader x lewis hamilton#lh44
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Kozakura and Toriko
SPOILER WARNING: major spoilers up to Vol 8 of the novels, screenshots of the manga-exclusive Kozakura POV Special Chapter 10 and two passing mentions of minor character development in Vol 9 of the novel (currently only in Japanese).
Vol 10 of the English manga was released yesterday, and re-reading the Kozakura POV Special Chapter at the end reminded me why it was actually my favourite of all the ones published so far, and why I am so enamoured with Kozakura as a character.
I know that a lot of the fandom is amused by the idea of Sorawo having a harem (and it's true - Miyazawa straight up confirms Runa's crush in Vol 9 and has regularly insinuated at Kozakura's feelings throughout the volumes), but I think not nearly enough people talk about Kozakura's dynamic with Toriko, or how the story unfolds from her perspective as literally the "only grown-up in the room" before Migiwa's introduction.
So this post is gonna talk about that.
There are multiple times where the story depicts Kozakura favouring Sorawo over Toriko, such as in when she asked Sorawo to accompany her back home because she was scared, or when she decided to call only Sorawo to go over to her house to collect the free hot springs tickets. A lot of people chalk it up to Kozakura liking Sorawo, but if anything I think this behaviour is more of a manifestation of the lack of guilt towards her, compared to the boatload she has towards Toriko.
In the novels, we as readers feel the disgust and dread from Sorawo's POV as someone retroactively discovering that her friend was a victim of grooming.
But what about Kozakura? If you think about the OP character chart from a bird's eye view, she wasn't a victim - nor exactly an innocent bystander. If anything, she'd be an accessory to a predator, being a late-20s/early-30s adult witnessing her similar-aged coworker rope in who was a literal teenager at the time to traversing and exploring a creepy af alternate reality, and doing absolutely fuck all about it.
Miyazawa made a deliberate decision here, to write in no uncertain terms, that Kozakura was conscious of what Satsuki was doing to Toriko, or the impropriety lurking beneath the dynamics of their "tutor-student" relationship. Kozakura saw it coming - his writing leaves no room for other interpretations - and she let it happen.
And how does she cope with this guilt? Kozakura could've avoided Toriko's attempts at reaching out after Satsuki's disappearance. It would've been easy I think, for Kozakura to simply break off all contact. A simple "our mutual friend is gone so bye" would've sufficed to send Toriko packing for good. Toriko is an abysmally shy girl - and unlike Sorawo, Kozakura knew that side of her from the start. Kozakura is clearly not afraid or incapable of conveying her displeasure, but nonetheless makes the conscious, harder decision to make Toriko feel comfortable enough to stick around.
Kozakura unexpectedly grows more accustomed to taking care of Toriko, plus her new sidekick Sorawo, over time. So much so that by the time Vol 6 rolls around, she pretty much gives up her house and lets our dynamic duo do what they want. By extension, I think her guilt over not doing anything to help Toriko in the past was a driving factor behind her decision to take in Kasumi. In a sense, it's a do-over, and now she's right there from the start to make sure the train doesn't derail. I'm happy to reveal that her efforts have paid off - Kasumi's communication abilities have greatly improved in Vol 9. Now the kid says hi, eats ice cream on the couch obediently when ordered to do so, and quotes entire Wikipedia pages psychically or whatever.
The complicated vortex of envy, jealousy and guilt doesn't stop Kozakura from trying to do right by Toriko, but that doesn't mean it's easy to face her either. Coupled with Sorawo's many similarities to her missing crush (emotional erh, robustness, vague physical resemblance, bravery regarding all things Otherside) and the lack of a complicated interpersonal history, it's no wonder why Kozakura intuitively prefers talking to our protagonist than the poor Bird Girl she allowed to be manipulated. And I don't think she's very conscious of this inclination herself.
Personally, I prefer this interpretation of Kozakura's behaviour, rather than the more popular everyone-likes-Sorawo take (not that it's not valid, unsupported, or fun). Also, this is my all-vibes no-evidence theory, but Kozakura totally seems to me like someone who'd only be into older women, not younger...
But that's probably just me projecting. I relate to Kozakura's position quite a bit, as a late-20s woman who leads a team of mostly early-20s younger women fresh out of university, like a naggy mother hen.
Many stories depict difficult situations from the eyes of a victim, survivor, or even perpetrator, but not enough explore the guilt of someone who acknowledges that she could've stopped a bad thing from happening, in my opinion. And she forces herself to atone by proactively keeping an eye for these girls. While maintaining that superior holier-than-thou attitude towards her kids lol. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh I love Miyzawa's takes so much.
This is a 5am, caffeine-fueled ramble. It's not particularly insightful or profound, but I have a lot of energy right now and decided to pen down these surging thoughts.
And yeah - buy the manga! The Kozakura POV shorts add such a rich dimension to these already-deeply introspective novels, and personally I think it really highlights Miyazawa's hyperawareness of complicated, problematic interpersonal dynamics.
PS. I wonder how many volumes we have to reach before finally knowing Kozakura's first name lol.
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I'm not broken, just bent 😔
So I don't know if the joy of being a peri menopausal woman is the reason I feel as I do, or if it's frustration from having a difficult boss who often forgets we are all human and also have a life outside of work. Maybe it stems from that lifelong feeling I have had of never being good enough ( which is a whole other story involving step parents, step siblings and a dad who prioritized his new family over his own child.) If it's me still adjusting to living with a chronic condition that causes me regular pain and limits my ability to do the things I used to do without a second thought. Or if it's just that the world is going to hell in a hand basket, but right now I just feel like I want to scoop up all my favourite people ( and my cats of course) and just disappear somewhere where we can all just be us, have fun, cry, laugh, sleep, get drunk and declare how much we love each other, play boardgames, eat good food and just forget it all.
This is the shit I want...
I also want peace, the chance to shut out all the noise, to just sit and be.
Jungkook zoning out when he gets overwhelmed is something I can relate to a lot more over the last 18 months. There are many times I have just shut myself at home on my days off because I neither have the desire or drive to go out.
It's too peopley out there.
On a daily basis in my job I deal with the best and worst of the general public and I can't lie, it has made me like people less 😬
All this being said I am not a miserable old women who sees no joy in the world. I have the best friends both near and far, and I have the best daughter who is my best friend and an eternal source of joy and love. I do things that make me happy and I spend time with those most precious to me and we have the best times.
There is just something not sitting right at the moment and I just wanted to put it down in writing as this in itself is very cathartic.
As always there is a BTS song that makes me feel seen and understood 😭😭.
God I love these men 💜
#life#sometimes i want to run away#BTS always have a song for that#zero o clock makes me cry everytime
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id love to hear more in depth on how you see reader! i love hearing other perspectives, and hearing the author's herself would be interesting!
Hmm I had to think on this one because the way I portray her in the fic is pretty much how I see her. I've said this before but when I was originally writing the fic it was an OC instead, but I know reader inserts tend to be more popular and inclusive so I went with a reader insert instead. A lot of her personality that I had planned has stayed the same, though it has developed quite a bit from what I planned it to be, but honestly, I'm glad for that.
I base her a lot on myself, more than I intended to because this fic has become very much an extension of my own emotions and struggles, and it's been quite cathartic with everything that's happened this year.
Very timid and unsure and anxious at first, but highly perceptive and a quick learner. That kind of drive for perfectionism almost as a fatal flaw, along with the confliction between logic and emotion in certain situations to the point of freezing and being unsure of how to continue. The hyperawareness to the point of recognizing who's footsteps are who's, but also the ability to get so lost in thought all awareness disappears. The near chronic overthinking and second guessing, yet occasionally impulsive. That need to be accepted, but taking a long time to get comfortable around others. Sassy, unintentionally funny, sharp witted but still hesitant and calculated depending on the situation. Very sweet but can be fierce and relentless when need be.
Yeah. Pretty much how she's depicted in the story 😂 of course it's all up to interpretation, and of course the reader can be anything anyone wants. But that's how I see her and try to portray her.
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Not how it was supposed to happen | Bart Allen x reader
When Inertia notices Impulse hanging out with a certain hero, he decides to ruin Barts day.
a/n: this isn’t requested, but I will take requests for any of the young justice and dc sidekicks. This is my first work so be patient cause I’m bad at spelling lol.
warnings: angst, cursing. I low key really hate this tbh
You couldn’t believe yourself, you let deathstroke get away. You had him right there, but than you let down your guard and he overpowered you.
You tired typing up the report but you were hitting the keys so hard and you were getting frustrated with having to write out your failure.
“Hey Bart!” You called across the cave. He quickly sped over to you, standing by your side.
“Yes!” He said louder than he meant to. “Mhm- I mean yes?”
“I was wondering if you could write the report to Red Tornado tonight? I’m so tired I could faint.
A smile spread across his face “absolutely! Go rest, you did great today.”
“Thanks, but I really didn’t. I let him get away.” You sigh defeatedly.
“It’s not your fault, You were the only one to catch up to him and almost got him, he just slipped away. We’ll get him next time.” He smiled but as he saw your frown not going away he stopped. His words clearly weren’t working.
“yeah sure. See you later.” You said as you walked to the Zeta tube. Bart watched with a sad expression as you disappeared back to your city. He sighed and started on the report.
—
Thaddeus was so jealous of Bart.
How dare he get praise from the city of Central city. How dare he get to be the hero. How dare he get the girl.
Inertia decided enough was enough. No more happiness for Impulse.
Inertia had a simple plan. Follow you home, break through the window and knock you out, take you back to the lair. And Inertia succeeded with flying colors.
You were asleep, or knocked out really. Thaddeus stared at your face, as he remembered the first time he had saw you.
He was watching the young justice team, as he his mentor usually sent him to do, when he caught sight of you. He thought you were pretty of course and your ability to hold your own in a fight made you even more attractive. But when He caught sight of Barts blush as you spoke to him, as he basically vibrated with excitement as he talked to you, Inertia know he had to have you.
—
You stirred in your sleep and opened your eyes. You were strapped by your wrists to a bed, surrounded by overkill high tech equipment. You glanced to your right to see Inertia standing over you with a shit eating grin.
“Well good morning gorgeous.” He said as he leaned down to plant a kiss to your forehead, you tried to lean away but was trapped by the ropes around your wrists and ankles. You felt so exposed, tied up with no weapon and your middle completely exposed, you had your suit on of course but nothing to protect yourself with. You felt useless. You tried to move your leg but was met with excruciating pain. You looked down to see your leg swollen and purple.
Way past broken.
“What do you want with me?” You bite back. Inertia lets out a laugh.
“Nothing with you, just with Impulse. To keep him away from you, it will drive him mad. He’d do anything to keep you safe.” He said as he sped over to a computer.
“ I mean anyone on the team would probably do the same thing. I would do that for them too.” You replied, really confused.
“Yes of course.” Inertia replied sarcastically. “You guys have that power of friendship shit.”
You rolled your eyes. You weren’t intimidated by Inertia, but you were worried for what he had in store for Bart. Inertia went out of his way to make Barts world a living hell. All of the reverse flashes did, but Inertia seemed extra spiteful to the young speedster.
“No, Impulse has a certain fondness for you, why? I can’t even imagine, but he cares for you. He couldn’t have made it more obvious. He follows you around on the field like a lost puppy.” Inertia spits, as if Barts crush on you made him sick.
You can’t say that you didn’t notice Barts clear interest in you. He practically vibrates through the floor when he speaks to you. He blushes when ever you hug or pat him on the back after a mission. Cassie had even pointed it out a few times. Anita and Cissie have a bet going about when he’ll have the courage to confess his feelings.
You wouldn’t say you didn’t harbor a crush towards the future boy as well. You were just much better at hiding it. You found his goofiness endearing and his jokes never failed to make you laugh.
but the line of work you two choose makes dating complicated. When feelings are involved it can mess up the whole team on the field. This is a prime example.
“What are you going to do with him?” You asked as you struggle against your restraints. You click you wrists together three times, sending out a distress signal to the cave.
“I’m going to stop Impulse once and for all. Nothing is going to get I’m my way now.” He loaded up a weird looking gun with a large bullet. Tranquilizer gun.
shit
You knew the whole team would be on their way soon. You had faith in them. But the doubt in your mind clouded your thoughts. You must have looked scared because inertia turned and smiled wickedly at your struggling body.
“Oh you know this gun? Hmm well then you won’t mind me testing it out on you.” He smiled before shooting it right into your leg.
You yelped as it hit your thigh and and struggled as the effects kicked in. You wrestled with the restraints until you couldn’t any longer. You laid there, still. Useless.
“Oh and about that little distress signal you just sent out. You’re not slick, and we wanted you to do that. How else would we lower him here?” He smiled sadistically.
you watched him walk away not able to move to go after him. Not able to fight to help save your friends.
Tears filled your eyes as you slowly passed out.
—
Bart was running as fast as he could through the hallways, Cassie and Kon on his tail. He needed to save you. He should have known that Inertia would have caught on to his crush eventually. This was all his fault, If he had just kept the flirting on the field to a minimum you wouldn’t be here right now. Cassie was about ready to kill inertia, how dare he kidnap her best friend.
Bart ran through the last hallway beefier turning left. He ran up to inertia and grabbed his collar. “Where is she!” He yelled in the blondes face.
Inertia giggled a sinister little giggle before the sound of a gun clicking startled Bart. He looked down to see a tranquilizer bullet sticking out of his stomach. With all his strength he punch Inertia in the face as hard as he could and continue to scream in his face as he hit him, demanding him to give up your location.
—
Wonder girl found Impulse struggling to crawl towards a metal door, weakly pointing to it with and mumbling. He was drooling on the floor before he collapsed. She looked next to him to see Inertia unconscious, with a bloody swollen face.
With Impulses heightened metabolism, he should snap out of it any moment now. Jon took care of Inertia, sending him on his way to bele reve, while Cassie took the liberty of busting down the metal door and grabbing you.
Back at the cave, Bart was up running around while Red Tornado addressed the damage cause to you.
Bart couldn’t take the thought of you being alone with Thaddeus Thawne and what he could have done to you.
Res Tornado returned from out of your room, the whole team waiting outside.
“Is she ok?” Bart asks worried.
“Her leg is in critical condition, she will live.” His said in his monotone voice. “She needs rest but she wants to speak to everyone. I suggest only one person before she goes to sleep, the rest of you can catch up in the morning.”
red tornado walked away and back to his room. Bart looked around at the group. “Could I speak to her first? I just want to make sure she’s ok.” The group agreed even when Cassie was a little hesitant.
Bart walked into the room seeing you lying on the bed with your led wrapped up and elevated. You poke your head up at the noise and smiled at Bart.
“Thank God you’re ok!” Bart said as he sped to the side of your bed.
“I could say the same thing.” You said as he returns your smile.
“Look Y/N, I’m so sorry about Inertia. He’s cruel and mean and was trying to use you to get to me, I’msosorrythatilutyouinthatpostionsifanythinghadhappenedtoyouidontknowwhatiwoulddowithmyself.”
“Bart! Slow down I can’t understand you when you talk like that.” You laughed lightly.
“what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry.” He sighed.
“Bart you didn’t do this to me. Inertia did, you’re not responsible for him.” You said as you looked him in his golden eyes.
“but if I had just not made my crush so obvious he wouldn’t have-“ Bart stopped realizing what he had just said.
“Your crush on me?” You asked with a playful smirk, as Barts cheeks colored.
“well umm..yes I have a crush on you.” Bart said as he hid his face in his hands.
you laughed and pulled his hands away from his face, holding them in your own.
“I like you too Bart. And it’s not your fault.” You said looking him deep in the eyes.
“you do?” He asked hopeful.
“yes.” You replied. He leaned forward and kissed your hand.
“well than, I guess it’s time I ask you on an official date. Is Tacos ok?” He asked
“absolutely.” You giggled as your eyes grew heavy from the sheer weight of today.
“I’ll see you later then, good night Y/N.” He said as he kissed your forehead
“good night, my hero.” You said as he’s cheeks turned and even darker shade of red.
He rushed out of your room once he was sure you were asleep. He ran through the cave to the living room and tackled kon into a hug.
“I take it she said yes then?” Kim asks having heard the whole thing with his super hearing. Bart ran around the room vibrating through the walls as Anita handed a crisp $20 bill to a laughing Cissie.
#bart allen x you#bart allen x reader#bart allen#bart allen imagine#bart#barry allen#flash#impulse#impulse x reader#inertia#thad thawne#thaddeus thawne#wally west#cassie sandsmark#kon el
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Kim's Place in the Mafia: Novel vs Show
The one thing I can say without a doubt in my mind is that from the crumbs we get of Kim and Chay from the book and show, these two are obsessively in love with each other. So I'll say that now and get that squared away.
And I know, most of the fandom detest the book due to its problematic authors and will never read it, and that's completely valid. Furthermore, I will say now that the book is trash and hardly coherent at times. But as my favorite English scholar for Ancient Rome, Mary Beard, once said: "It's trash...but it's very valuable trash."
For what it's worth, reading the book at least once can provide a more nuanced understanding of why the showrunners made the changes they did in the show. The changes in and of themselves makes for a more cohesive story (SOO MUCH MORE COHESIVE), but it also goes without saying that a lot of the events in the show remain faithful to the novel, so in that regard, there is some merit to be had.
Finally, when I say the novel is "trash", I mean the narrative itself, not necessarily the translation (although it's not perfect by any means). If anything, I'm grateful for the translators who took the time to translate this novel into English, since translation is a thankless job most times in fandom (lookin' at you, MDZS). As I speak no Thai whatsoever, I can’t give an informed opinion on DAEMI's technical writing abilities, since I'm not a native speaker, nor am I the book's target audience.
But, I digress.
The more I reread the book (in all its trash glory), the more I find myself questioning Kim's views in regards to how he sees himself as part of a mafia family. 🤔
In the book, Kim is a lot more accepting of his place within the mafia, despite his initial tendencies of disappearing on his guards and staying away from the main house. In fact, that pretty much changes once Chay enters the picture.
Gotta love a Kinn who's curious about his little bro's love life. XD
Kim is firmly settled into the fold of the family business (if that scene in the secret warehouse is anything to go by) and there’s a scene in the beginning of the book where Korn obligates all 3 sons to dress up in some fancy suits and visit their chocolate factory, since he’s particularly keen on getting it off the ground. This shows that although Kinn is set to inherit (in public, at least) the other two sons still have their duties to the family.
In fact, I will say that one of the most interesting things about reading the book is finding out that Kim's sleuthing is actually canon. Lol Granted, it's sleuthing more in regards to finding the mole and not really about Korn's game plan, but sleuthing nonetheless.
But in the show, his role within the family business and how he views it are a little bit more foggy because he has his musical career to keep him occupied, besides his sleuthing into Korn’s affairs. He’s not active in the way one would typically expect a member of the mafia to be (and who knows, this may be due to limited time constraints on the part of the showrunners), but he’s active within that sphere nonetheless.
And because of this, contrary to the general fandom consensus, I never really got the impression that Kim wanted to be out of the mafia, yknow? Personally, I think it’s too big of a leap to say him moving out = him not wanting to be in the mafia. Having that sort of character motivation wouldn't really make sense either, because then we would have had stronger hints of it, I think?
At the very least, by the end of the show, Kim--just like Chay--has more reasons to stay than not. The way I see it, Kim wanting to be out of the mafia would actually somewhat contradict his actions in the show.
Despite his effort in staying away from the mansion his father and brothers live in (and later on, Chay), Kim benefits from being a Theerapanyakul. We see this in a lot of different ways: the penthouse he lives in, the cars he drives (he gets his own set of the Maserati fleet, yo), his private studio, the freedom of movement he has in being able to easily get information (although this may be debatable), using Big as a gopher.
I highly doubt his career as a young musician is maintaining his luxurious lifestyle (perhaps only a part of it, like the fame); imo, there’s a calculated reason why BOC chose to keep the level of his fame as vague as possible. The way I see it, Kim moved out and pursued music simply because, due to his unique position of being the youngest son (aka the spare), he just had the luxury to do so.
If he truly wanted out of the mafia, I'm firmly on the camp that he could have done so already. We've seen in both the show and the book that unlike Kinn who's constrained by his duties, Kim does have the freedom to disappear, even to the point that it's to his detriment at times. Lol
Maybe I can go even further, and suggest that perhaps the reason he chose to move out is to get a better vantage point of the circumstances surrounding his father's schemes and the ongoing tides of power. Kinda like, he has to move away from the trees, in order to see the entire forest.
I wouldn't go so far as to say he wants power for himself (although this idea would be fun to entertain, especially within the context that he now has Chay in his life to protect), but again, being a member (a high-ranking one, at that) of the Theerapanyakul family benefits him in a lot of different ways.
In one of BOC's interviews and then in Jeff's goodbye message during the last KPWT, he mentioned something about Pond changing up Kim's character in order to make Jeff Satur shine. Idk about y'all, but that's quite a touching gesture, and one I definitely approve of, whilst I get a better understanding of the similarities and differences between novel!Kim and show!Kim. It's obvious from the show that besides changing Kim's maturity level and changing his image from a fuck boi to a cool prince, giving him a passion for music definitely humanized him and served as a way to balance out the other two love stories.
But be that as it may, although we the audience don't know as to what extent Pond changed Kim's character to better fit the story, at the very least maintaining Kim's position as a legitimate contender in the politics of the mafia world remains consistent in both the book and show.
Whether that observation lines up with the idea that he wants out of the mafia though, is entirely up to you. XD
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