#nothing to fuel that conflict in an interesting way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghostaholics · 1 year

Text

ᴍɪsᴄᴏɴᴅᴜᴄᴛ

SUMMARY: Ghost doesn't tolerate bad behavior. PAIRING: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!Reader (drabble) WARNING(S): illicit relationship & power imbalance; dom/sub vibes (brattiness); this is not that fleshed out but I think their background is enemies-to-lovers; fingering; ruined orgasm, but he makes it all better, sorta; oral sex (receiving) A/N: this is OOC but I still wrote it anyway because my mind would just not shut the fuck up W/C: 2.1k

HE HOLDS YOU THE SAME WAY HE HOLDS HIS GUN – with all the confidence that he can take you apart and put you back together again like it’s muscle memory.

It's not pride. It's just fact.

He wants to know the inner-workings of your brain. He wants to know what makes you tick. Hell, all he wants to know is what it's like to be inside of you.

He’s still wearing his clothes – jacket, trousers, and boots – everything down to the signature gloves and the fabric balaclava that masks his face.

You, in turn, have nothing. It’s a very unfair playing field – one that you hope to level soon. But Ghost has always been mountains above you even before the current circumstances; you've never turned down a challenge, though.

"Maybe..." he says, musingly as he stands at the foot of his bed, "I won't let you come."

It's a taunt, one that you happily indulge.

You wet your lips in anticipation. You're excited – hungry for it. Back and forth. Pressing his buttons, and in return, learning your place under his direction. A provocation to take up with the same kind of resolve you'd had when the rules said that you couldn't do it because he's your superior, your Lieutenant – it swells inside you, profuse – fills you up to the brim.

(Illicit. A violation of boundaries. Conflict of interest.)

But look at where you are now. You’ve managed to fucking do it.

It's so overwhelming that you can't possibly stop the next words that you fire back, like loaded bullets, full metal jackets shooting off at the mouth: "Maybe you just can't make me."

Ghost seizes you by the throat – hand so big it engulfs your lower jaw too; sick with power, the thought infects him like an all-consuming disease: he could crush your windpipe if he wanted to. It’d be so easy. Apply pressure. But only enough to provoke a sharp intake of breath. (You can take it.) "God, the fuckin' mouth on you," he growls.

Your voice, breathless under the force of his hand and far too flirtatious for your own good: "I can show you what else it can do." A shameless smile stretches over your mouth as if he doesn't have a noose around your neck – a palm instead of rope but equally as unforgiving.

His eyes burn holes into you. They smolder. And his temper? He's fuming. Underneath the surface, but raging all the same, make no mistake. There are a lot of things he’d like to do to you that would wipe the grin clean off your face and scrub the insubordination from your brain. "Think I’d rather take an apology, first."

"Oh," you lament around a pout. "You'll be waiting a long time before you hear one out of me."

The answer is an act of arson; it reeks of gasoline. Octane. It’s a fuel that you douse onto ever-growing flames. Scorched earth policy, like you want to sit back and watch the world go up in smoke, embers and all.

"Trust me,” he says, shucking his gloves off –doesn't want to get them dirty with your recklessness. (At least he can wash this sin from his hands later.) “You’ll feel sorry by the time I’m through with you.”

So how far can you push him? Turns out, a lot. More than you’d anticipated, actually, because earlier:

“Don’t test me.” “Why?” “You won’t want to find out.” “I think I do.”

His fingers brutally stuff your cunt, and your walls eagerly accommodate the stretch around the width of him. An uninhibited moan wretches itself from your throat at the intrusion. You clamp onto his arm instinctively for purchase. He's got you filled to capacity.

"You're so tight," he murmurs, feeling around for a bit, searching for – there it is. He hits that little spongy spot inside, and he knows he's got you. His digits slide through your hot core in that come-hither motion, and he's enticed by the way your body convulses at his discovery. He's addicted to the sensation, already knows he'll never be able to find anything else that gives him a high as good as this – that he'll never be able to quit you. Perfect, so perfect. The craving is bad, like he's been stabbed full of needles and shot up with something that he knows will have him hooked forever.

You rut down, hips canting as you fuck yourself down on his fingers, meeting him thrust-for-thrust because you're just that needy for it.

He collects every moan like it’s payment, and after the defiance you've been throwing his way, it's the least that you owe him.

And—

He doesn't need to do it – you're already soaked. But he fucking spits on your pussy anyway. Yeah, that’s good. So bloody fucking good. He watches it mix with your arousal. Slickness, everywhere. It leaks out of your puffy folds, juices running down to the juncture of his wrist where his tattoos start – floods the gaps in between the ink of his sleeve. He's aching for more.

Filthy. Filthy. Filthy.

You prop yourself up on your elbows to watch the sight. It's lewd. You nearly collapse on the spot.

But still, you capture his wrist, nails sinking into his flesh as he continues to pump in and out of your sopping cunt. You’re so wet, it’s almost embarrassing. You don’t want him to stop. You have to keep him there forever. "I'm close," you croak out. "I'm—"

"Gonna come now?"

A familiar wave of heat starts to crest within you. "God, yes." It surges, rises hard and rises fast. The feeling is blinding.

"That's it," he says around a low rumble of approval. "Give it to me."

It's the final tipping point to send you over the edge – no return. Euphoria is within sights. You're flying to a climax and it's right there, so close you can almost touch it and—

He snatches his fingers away.

You come around nothing.

You're yanked back into a cold and disappointing reality. It's disorienting. The heat fizzles out so fast it’s like a bonfire during a downpour.

That ecstasy that had been building up passes through you like a phantom. It's just gone. Goddamn it.

"No, no, no! Fuck, Ghost! What the fuck?"

You didn't finish. You didn't get to the end, because he took it from you and snuffed the life out of it with no remorse.

It's what he does best.

You're drowning in your own bitter rage, reeling between riptides of ire and violence. The feeling is highwater. You want to commit atrocities against this man.

He draws his fingers into his mouth, mask pulled up for a fraction before he sucks, eyes lazily flicking over to you – you’re the picture of red-hot anger and burning insolence. Deep satisfaction settles in his bones. He lowers the balaclava back to where it was. "You taste sweet," he comments, almost absentmindedly. "Shame the personality doesn't match."

You're seething, a temper bristling with unfathomable resentment. "You're so fucking mean."

"Hate me all you want, love. We both know whose cock you get wet for at the end of the day. You wouldn't be here otherwise."

He calls you the term of endearment as if he cares. You aren't stupid. That’s not what this is. His tone is laced with derision.

"Unbelievable," you mutter. "I'm gonna have you court-martialed for being such an asshole."

He chuckles darkly. "Let's try this again."

The first day he met you: Your file, in big bold letters with an extensive skillset, and one section that stood out to him: INTERROGATION. Everything redacted. "How good are you?"– he'd asked. "That's classified, sir. But all you really need to be worried about is that I know how to make people talk." Smartass.

"I wanna... oh, God. Let me come. I want it, need it," you moan. He's been continuing his onslaught for too long, and you can't handle it.

"Where'd all the attitude go, huh, love?"

The whimper is high in your throat. "Please."

"The begging's a nice touch. Unfortunately, it won't save you now. I’m already fresh out of fucks.”

“Simon—”

He wouldn’t call you a whore, but that’s exactly what you sound like.

Your composure snaps.

"I'm sorry," you gasp, wrecked.

Finally.

His voice is devastating – a sawtoothed-edge that threatens to tear you apart. "Done playing games?"

It sends cracks throughout your fortitude – fractures spidering along your backbone. It’s a thousand splintered fragments.

Something in you shatters. It feels a lot like your self-respect.

“Yes, sir.”

This is rock bottom, a callous reminder of where the two of you stand. You despise using his title now more than you do out on the field.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “thought so.”

He kneels in between your legs, has your thighs wrenched open between the sheer size of his bulky shoulders. Simon lifts the edge of his mask up to settle onto the bridge of his nose, just to expose the bottom half of his face – sharp contour, a determined set to his stubbled jaw. It’s not all of him, but it’s enough. Simon’s mouth is on you in no time flat. It's not something he'll admit, but he’s starving for this. Ravenous – a carnal appetite. He wants his fill. Lust gnaws at his gut; it bites away at his resolve.

"Tastes so good," he grunts, sending vibrations rocking through you. His tongue laves over your clit, your entrance, lapping it up, taking what he wants. "Anyone ever tell you how much of a brat you are?" he asks, voice like gravel.

"Christ, shut up," you mumble pathetically.

Simon sinks his teeth into the side of your thigh to show his displeasure before turning his attention back to the task at hand. He's amused at the way you curse at him for being a bastard. More passes at your clit that make you tremor under him – he could get drunk off of this. It sends a nice buzz to his head better than his favorite whiskey.

His tongue is wet and soft, dipping between your engorged folds and making the nastiest noises. He's licking his way into your cunt. "Fuck." Again and again, using his mouth to rip those pretty sounds from you – the moans and everything, he'll drink it all up.

He adds his fingers back to the foray, knuckle deep. A high-pitched whine leaves you, cresting into another low moan as you adjust around the familiar feeling of the heavy and thick drag of his fingers through you; it almost makes him come, untouched.

"Ah, Simon," you whimper.

He lifts his head, chin drenched. There's a glossy sheen to his lips. Thoroughly wet. So much. You can feel it pooling under your ass, too. The sheets are saturated. That's all you. "I'll let you come this time," he rasps, sounding just as bad as you.

And at that, you don't care. Nothing else matters anymore.

You chase the high, white-hot pleasure mounting to a fever pitch. It strikes somewhere deep inside you. Blinding ecstasy swallows you whole. It’s cataclysmic. Bliss surges through your veins. “Oh, fuck me,” you choke out, arching off the bed. Your body's wracked with spasms. It's the hardest you've ever come in your life, and you hate that he's the reason for it.

Beginning and end — everything in between, and all at once — he's there. Simon continues, even after you ride out the rest of the orgasm, working you through the entirety of it – a mercy that he grants you for your earlier penitence until you're spent and oversensitive. It's charity. He's just that generous.

"Fuckin'... just drippin' all over my fingers," he growls, "can't wait to see what kind of a mess you make on my cock. I'm gonna ruin you."

"Yeah?" you say, in between shuddering breaths.

"Mm."

You've gotten what you wanted from him already, so a vain attempt to save face: "Do your worst."

The switch is instant. His eyes flash to yours in warning. "How many times am I gonna have to prove you wrong today?"

That same smile again, the one that spells trouble – it's what started this in the first place. “However long it takes until you make me cry, maybe.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #ghost smut #simon riley smut #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty fic #simon riley fic #ghost fic #smut #simon riley x you

1K notes · View notes

akazzzaa · 6 months

Text

The forbidden flower

Summary- You find the blue spider Lily.

Genre- Angst

Warnings-Implied death// threats// hurt// cannon divergence

Muzan

Muzan needed more pawns to look for the blue spider lilly. He decided that he might need to get a human to help him. He attempts to use you to acquire the Blue Spider Lily for him. He would employ various tactics, such as deception, coercion, or promises of rewards, to convince you to retrieve the flower on his behalf. Just like he does with everyone. Muzan is desperate to find a way to break free from the limitations placed on him.

But you found it. A stupid, mere little human. Found something that neither him or his strongest creations couldn't find. His guts turn and he cant stop shaking. He is desperate.

He may resort to threats and violence to ensure that he gets hold of it. He would likely stop at nothing to obtain the flower and achieve his goal of becoming immune to sunlight.

Muzan is a master manipulator. If he perceives that direct aggression is not working, he might resort to cunning and manipulation to get you to hand over the Blue Spider Lily willingly. He would exploit your fears, emotions, or vulnerabilities to achieve his ends.

The discovery of the Blue Spider Lily would likely install fear and panic to the demon slayers. Once word gets round that Muzan has the flower, it would lead to chaos and lots of death in his pursuit of ultimate power and the perfect body.

Kokushibo

Upon discovering that you found the Blue Spider Lily, Kokushibo's eyes narrow with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. He approaches you with a calm demeanour, concealing his true emotions. Being a skilled swordsman and demon, he might use his formidable presence to make you feel the weight of the situation.

Kokushibo inquires about how you came across such a rare and sought-after flower, probing for details about its origins and how it ended up in their possession. Depending on your response, he might become more intrigued or skeptical.

If convinced that the Blue Spider Lily is genuine and that you have the potential to be useful to Muzan's cause, Kokushibo decides to take the flower from you. His actions could range from forcefully snatching it away or employing a more diplomatic approach, perhaps trying to persuade you that handing it over willingly is in their best interest.

Douma

You triumphantly presents the blue spider lily, the air around Douma grows tense with excitement. His twisted grin widens as he gazes at the precious flower in your hands. Douma, always seeking amusement, might chuckle softly, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he would purr, circling the you with an unsettling grace. "You've found Muzan's elusive treasure. How utterly fascinating."

Your confusion and surprise would only fuel Douma's sadistic delight. He approaches with an eerie calmness, extending his hand to take the blue spider lily. "Do you know the significance of this, little one?" he'd taunt, his voice a low, melodic drawl.

Douma, ever loyal to Muzan, expresses a sense of reverence toward the flower. With a flourish, he would snatch it from your grasp, his eyes flickering with a strange mix of loyalty and madness. "Muzan-sama has been searching for this for centuries," he would explain, his tone dripping with reverence for their leader. "You've done well to find it. Now, let me take it to him."

Akaza

You excitedly presents the rare and elusive blue spider lily to Akaza. He cant help but just stare in shock. Akaza is intrigued by the potential power it holds and the prospect of aiding Muzan in achieving his centuries-long goal. However, the more he thinks about the significance of the flower and Muzan's relentless search for it, a conflict would emerge within Akaza.

Akaza's loyalty to Muzan is paramount, but his emotions and personal connections create inner turmoil. He struggles with conflicting feelings, torn between his allegiance to Muzan and the bond and connection he formed with you. The internal struggle is evident in his expressions and body language.

Ultimately, Akaza makes a difficult decision. His loyalty to Muzan overrides any personal connection he has with you. In a tense moment, he takes the blue spider lily from you, expressing regret and sadness. This strains the relationship between you, leading to emotional and dramatic consequences.

Hantengu (Main Body)

It was in your hands. Hantengu approaches you with a deceptive demeanor, pretending not to know the true value of the flower. He would feign ignorance or downplay its importance, trying to manipulate you into willingly giving it to him. Hantengu might use his ability to summon his clones to make you more compliant.

Once you hand over the blue spider lily, Hantengu would likely reveal his true intentions, expressing his loyalty to Muzan and explaining that he saw an opportunity to gain favour with him. He will then leave the scene, leaving you to deal with the consequences of your actions.

Gyokko

How sublime. Gyokko swiftly appears before you. His eyes, typically filled with malice, gleam with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Gyokko, being aware of the significance of the blue spider lily, recognizes its potential to make demons able to walk in the sun, a trait that Muzan has sought for centuries.

Gyokko, with a sly and cunning smile, approaches you and calmly demands the flower. His voice, laced with a subtle threat, as he reminds you of Muzan's power and the consequences of defying him. Gyokko, confident in his abilities as a member of the Twelve Kizuki, might not hesitate to take the flower forcibly if you resists.

Gyutaro

As you presents the blue spider lily, Gyutaro's cold demeanour shifts momentarily. His eyes, usually filled with malice, widen with a glint of anticipation. The discovery of the elusive flower, the key to allowing demons to walk in the sun, is a revelation of immense significance.

Gyutaro, realizing the importance of this find, extends his hand to take the blue spider lily from your. His voice, usually cold and detached, might take on a more calculated and focused tone as he expresses the significance of the flower to Muzan Kibutsuji. He may explain that Muzan has been searching for the blue spider lily for centuries, and this discovery could be a game-changer for their kind.

While Gyutaro is known for his cruelty, his loyalty to Muzan is unwavering. In this situation, he would prioritize delivering the blue spider lily to Muzan over any personal feelings or attachments. You witness Gyutaro's dedication to Muzan's goals as he takes the flower, possibly with a menacing smile or a chilling remark about the consequences of crossing their leader.

Daki

Upon learning about your possession of the Blue Spider Lily, Daki will initially feign friendliness or interest, attempting to manipulate the situation to her advantage. She would use her charm and persuasive skills to convince you to hand it over willingly, perhaps even offering false promises or benefits in return.

Once she has the Blue Spider Lily in her possession, Daki would likely prioritize her loyalty to Muzan. Daki is fiercely loyal to Muzan, and he has been searching for the Blue Spider Lily for centuries, she would likely see it as her duty to deliver the flower to him. He will be so proud of her she can feel it.

Daki will betray your trust, revealing her true intentions and swiftly taking the Blue Spider Lily to deliver it to Muzan. This could lead to a tense and dramatic confrontation between you and Daki, as you realizes you have been deceived by the demon you thought you could trust.

#demon slayer #kny #kny x reader #douma x reader #akaza x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan x reader #douma #akaza #kokushibo x reader #hantengu #hantengu clones #gyokko #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro #kny daki

175 notes · View notes

venus-haze · 2 years

Text

If I Were You (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Elvis takes up Priscilla’s offer to go to rehab for Lisa, and decides to take the steps to break from the Colonel personally and professionally. Elvis is referred to you, a Memphis-based therapist who specializes in helping patients work through codependent or otherwise unhealthy relationships. While he ultimately hopes his turning his life around will give him a better chance of reconciliation with Priscilla, the level of emotional intimacy you allow him in the context of your sessions makes him redirect his attention to you.

Note: This is based on an anonymous request. Reader is a cis woman, but no other descriptors are used. I appreciated having an excuse to rewatch some of my favorite Sopranos episodes because I got a lot of inspiration from seasons 1 and 5. It’s more dialogue heavy than my other fics because of the therapy sessions. I’m not a psychiatrist and nothing in this fic should be treated as legitimate advice regarding mental health, please refer to licensed professionals for that. Look at the warnings before deciding whether or not you want to read this fic because it’s extremely dark. Do not interact with my blog or my posts if you are under 18 or post ED/thinpso content.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: This is a yandere fic, so expect dark themes such as emotional blackmail, obsessive and manipulative behavior, and abuse of power, which some people may find disturbing or triggering. The therapy session scenes involve discussions of codependency in relation to parenting and relationships as well as self-blame, death, and drug and alcohol abuse. Explicit sexual content which involves force and coercion and brief daddy kink. Elvis’ mommy issues. Do not interact if you are under 18.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (all other parts by @crash-and-cure)

When you received a phone call from Dr. Wilson, one of your colleagues who worked at a rehabilitation facility in San Diego, asking if you were taking new patients, you hadn’t thought much of it when you answered that you were. He elaborated that while the patient was doing well in rehab, he thought he could benefit from continued therapy sessions, particularly because of your specialization and proximity to the patient’s home in Memphis. He informed you that he’d reveal more information about the patient and provide you with the clinical notes he’d taken throughout rehab once he received the patient’s agreement and approval to begin seeing you.

A few days later, you got the follow up call. The patient was interested in being treated by you and had given Dr. Wilson permission to send you copies of the clinical notes. He finally revealed who your Memphis-based patient would be—Elvis Presley. You nearly dropped the phone when he told you. Him going to rehab made sense, his drug and alcohol-fueled antics on stage frequently made entertainment headlines, but you certainly hadn’t expected that he’d need the specialized therapy that you offered.

Elvis still had two weeks left in the rehabilitation program, and you’d receive the clinical notes before then to get an idea of what Dr. Wilson had already addressed with him. When you received the packet at your office’s mailbox, marked with a large ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ stamp on it, you almost hesitated. While aware of his career, you weren’t a huge fan of Elvis’, so that wouldn’t pose a conflict of interest, but you wondered if you could truly be impartial and fair toward a man whose existence permeated almost every aspect of American popular culture.

From what Dr. Wilson had said, Elvis needed help, not as a rockstar but as a man. You were one of less than forty therapists in the country who specialized in helping patients break down codependent relationships. Your office wasn’t far from Graceland at all, ensuring Elvis wouldn’t have to go out of his way for regular therapy sessions.

Finally opening the packet, you were faced with a manila file folder with Elvis’ full name and birthdate printed on the tab. You grabbed your notebook, preparing to write what was relevant for the sessions, but the more you read, it seemed like everything was relevant. A deceased overbearing mother whom Elvis revered as a saint, a manager who exploited his career for decades, and an ex-wife who was burdened with being the man’s stand-in mother and therapist from an alarmingly young age.

You sat back in your chair, exhaling deeply to ground yourself. Taking on Elvis Presley as a client would not be easy, that much was obvious. Most of your clients didn’t have webs as intricately woven as he did, as much to unpack and consider as Elvis. Yet, from the notes, he wanted help. He wanted to change. He didn’t want his daughter Lisa to grow up without a father, but he also wanted a career and a life that he could finally be in control of, where he could be sure of who to trust.

On a Friday afternoon, when you were in between appointments, your phone rang. You answered, resisting the urge to gasp when you heard who was on the other line, despite expecting his call.

“Hello, is Dr. Y/L/N there?” Elvis asked.

“Speaking,” you answered.

“Oh.” He sounded surprised. “Dr. Wilson didn’t mention you were a woman.”

“Is that a problem, Mr. Presley? Because I can refer you to another specialist—“

“No, that’s fine. I just thought you were a secretary or somethin’—no offense.”

“None taken,” you said.

The two of you discussed what his goals for therapy were, and that he wanted to attend twice a week, which was how often he was seeing Dr. Wilson while he was in rehab. Many people were hesitant about therapy since it had an unwarranted stigma attached to it, but you supposed the group therapy and personal sessions in San Diego had proved its effectiveness to him. You agreed to schedule appointments for Monday and Thursday afternoons at 4:30pm and leave the service door to the building unlocked for him, so he could come in at the end of the work day and not have to worry about passersby and other patients seeing him there and causing unwanted attention.

The conversation was short yet pleasant, but if you were being honest, you hadn’t been so nervous about taking on a patient since you first opened your own practice. You had tried to reason with yourself, that he was just a man seeking help like all of your other patients. None of your other patients, however, were Elvis Presley. You managed to calm yourself down the day of his first session, focusing on the other patients you had scheduled.

He arrived fifteen minutes early the day of his first appointment, a non-issue as you had made sure the session before his was wrapped up by four, giving him a window of time to arrive while the office was empty. You took a deep breath before opening the door to the waiting room from your office, and found him staring at a painting on the wall. He turned to you, giving you one of the most dazzling smiles you’d ever seen in your life.

You greeted him with a friendly smile and an outstretched hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Presley, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Same here, Dr. Y/L/N,” he said, shaking your hand.

“Follow me, and take a seat anywhere you like,” you said, leading him into your office and closing the door behind you.

“Is this some kinda test? You can tell something ‘bout me by which one I pick?” he asked half-jokingly.

You laughed. “No, no, it’s just that we’re going to be sitting for an hour, so I want you to be comfortable.”

He sat in the armchair in front of the bookcase, rather than the one in front of your desk. You grabbed your notebook and sat down across from him. The two chairs were nearly identical anyway, so it didn’t make that big of a difference where either of you sat. Taking a moment to study him, you couldn’t help but acknowledge to yourself how good he looked. You always thought Elvis was a handsome man, but post-rehab, he seemed to be glowing in a way that seemed almost youthful. After allowing yourself to ogle your new patient, you cleared your throat.

“Now, before we begin our first session, I want to establish doctor-patient confidentiality and inform you of your rights as a patient. Is that okay?” you asked.

“Sounds good to me,” he said.

“Wonderful. I take doctor-patient confidentiality seriously. Anything you say in this room will stay in this room. However, if at any point during our sessions you indicate that you intend to seriously harm yourself or others, I would have to go to the police.”

“Seriously harm?”

“Any intentional action that would result in the hospitalization or death of yourself or another individual,” you elaborated, and he gave you a silent nod to continue. “I may encourage you to dig deeper into your psychological and emotional state, you don’t have to answer any questions that you don’t want to, but keep in mind that I’m trying to guide the conversation in a direction that will help you achieve the breakthroughs you want.”

“You know, my mama used to call you psychologists ‘headshrinkers’. Hell, I even do sometimes,” he said with a laugh.

You smiled at the comment, it certainly wasn’t uncommon for people to be skeptical of mental healthcare, but since he’d already brought up his mother, you didn’t want to lose that momentum.

“I completely understand. When I told my parents I was getting my doctorate in psychology, I might as well have told them that I was going to clown school,” you said. “Some people turn to religion for their psychological guidance. My parents are like that. Were yours?”

“Oh yeah, mama was always quotin’ scripture.”

“And your father?”

“He went to church with us sometimes, but it was usually me and mama. I stopped goin’ to church once my career started takin’ off. Didn’t have the time to, but I still love those old gospel hymns.”

You nodded, taking quick notes as he spoke.

“You writin’ that I’m some religious nut in there?”

“No, just general observations, things you’ve mentioned that have appeared while treating other patients. The more I treat people who’ve struggled with codependency, the more I can help others by recognizing patterns of behavior,” you explained. “I read from your file, which thank you for letting me look at by the way, that you experienced this codependent abuse from your former manager, Tom Parker.”

He exhaled, and you made note of his utilizing the coping method to calm himself down.

“The Colonel thought he was entitled to half of everything I made, even though I was the one workin’ myself sick. He had that hack doctor put all kinds of junk in me to keep me movin’ like some walkin’ dead man. That cost me my family and half of everything I ever earned. I’m suin’ the son of a bitch, but I can’t let this happen again.”

“Elvis, I’m sorry that happened to you. You were taken advantage of by someone you trusted. You have every right to be upset and angry. I encourage you to express those emotions while we're here,” you said. “I want to challenge you to stop referring to your former manager as ‘The Colonel’. I think that language is detrimental to your progress as it sets him in a place of authority over you, when in reality, he isn’t and never was.”

He scoffed. “What should I call him then? ‘That piece of shit’?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’d like, yes.”

For the rest of the hour, he spoke about his former manager, and while you had an idea of what went on from the notes your colleague had given you, the extent was just as bad as you’d expected. As a doctor, you were particularly horrified by the so-called ‘Dr. Nick’ who exacerbated Elvis’ addiction to prescription medications in the name of the almighty dollar. Elvis peppered in mentions of his mother throughout the session as well, and you made a note to dig into that in the future. You weren’t the biggest proponent of Freud, but you knew many people went through life subconsciously mirroring the behavior of their parents unless they made a conscious decision not to.

At the end of the session, you let Elvis know that you admired the progress he’d made so far, both in rehab and his first session with you. He smiled at that, and confessed that even though he wasn’t sure about seeing a woman therapist, as soon as he saw you, he knew there was something different about you, and he already felt comfortable around you. You stayed in your office late to work on the notes for his file while they were still fresh in your mind, and left around a quarter to seven.

The Monday and Thursday sessions continued consistently for the next few weeks, and you were thrilled with how much progress Elvis had made, both in therapy and in his personal life. He was more involved in Lisa Marie’s life and had her over at Graceland regularly, making sure his days were completely clear whenever she was over so he could focus on spending time with her. His sleep pattern had become more regular, with some bouts of understandable insomnia. You and Dr. Wilson had already agreed that with Elvis’ history of addiction, holistic approaches to any psychological conditions would be best, and prescriptions would only be given as an absolute last resort. When he told you that he felt better than he had in years, physically and emotionally, you considered it a huge success, and encouraged him to acknowledge and celebrate that.

Understandably, most of your sessions with Elvis were spent discussing his former manager and the influence and control that he had on Elvis’ career and personal life, particularly the strain it caused on his mother. That was a sensitive issue for him, and he tended to deflect when you tried to bring her up or discuss his relationship with her further. About four months into your treating him, however, he mentioned feeling some resentment toward his father for mismanaging Elvis’ finances, making an off-handed comment about how it wouldn’t have happened if his mother were still alive. You saw this as the opportunity to get him to finally elaborate.

“Your mother was the dominating figure in the family unit, then?” you pressed.

“Mama was a good woman, the best woman. She put food on the table when daddy was in jail. She believed in me before anyone else did.”

“I never said your mother wasn’t a good woman,” you observed. “Why did you jump to that conclusion, that I was attacking her?”

The room was silent for a few moments as he considered your question. “Everyone else did. You know, she was right about not trustin’ the Col–Parker. It’s like when I signed that contract with him I was signin’ her death sentence.”

“Do you blame yourself for her death?”

“I know it was the alcohol. I learned that much in rehab, but in her heart, it was me. She died while I was in basic training, doctor.”

“I’m glad you’re talking through this. It’s going to help with our future sessions, but I want to establish that you’re not responsible for your mother's death anymore than you’re responsible for her other actions throughout her life.”

He shook his head. “Me leavin’, that killed her.”

“Why would your leaving kill her? As I understand, you were drafted. You didn’t have a choice.”

“Because I was supposed to take care of her. My daddy wouldn't, so I did.”

“Do you think it’s right for a child to take care of their parents?” you asked.

“It’s not about what was right,” he argued. “I had to do it.”

“How old were you, when you first stepped into this pseudo-parental role?”

“What?”

“How old were you when you began taking up the household responsibilities that belonged to your father?”

“I was real young, when he went to jail and we had to move. I had a good childhood, though. We didn’t have much, but I had friends and I went to church, did alright in school.”

The hour was almost up, but you knew you were close to reaching a pivotal point in his treatment. As soon as you got him to consider that his codependency issues started with his mother, you could work through his relationships with Tom Parker and even Priscilla, but it’d be easier said than done to drag his mother off of the pedestal he put her on. She’d been dead for over a decade, and yet she still had a spectral stranglehold on her son.

Your intention wasn’t for him to walk out of your office hating his mother, but to recognize the unhealthy behaviors he emulated and to work through the grief he clearly never fully dealt with.

You figured you had time to ask him one more question, and chanced it with, “What do you miss most about your mother?”

“I could tell her anything, and she’d always have something to say. Maybe not what I wanted to hear, but she always meant what she said. I trusted her like no one else. I don’t know if I ever will.”

“It’s hard for you to trust people, with the position that you’re in and how people have taken advantage of you in the past. That can be lonely, and some people engage in self-destructive behavior in an attempt to get the care and attention they yearn for. I believe that you will be able to trust again. Just something to think about as the session ends today,” you said. “You’ve made a lot of progress, and I want to acknowledge that.”

He smiled. “Thank you. You really know your stuff, but I guess that’s what you went to school for.”

“I appreciate that,” you acknowledged. “I hope you have a great rest of your day, Elvis, and I’ll see you at our appointment next week.”

After Elvis left, you worked on your notes from the session to add to his file. You weren’t just paying him lip service before, he had made a good amount of progress, and even despite some of his hesitations, worked through some aspects of the treatment that you expected to be more challenging for him.

The next few sessions, you pressed him more about his mother, and while he pushed back against your insinuating that some of his codependent tendencies originated with her, he did acknowledge that the pressure of not upsetting her did cost him his participation in his high school’s football team, which he loved for the brief amount of time he spent playing. She had been worried about him getting hurt, a pattern you noticed as Elvis spoke to you about his childhood.

You weren’t expecting to find that the root of her anxiety over Elvis’ well-being came from losing his twin, Jesse at birth. Elvis was born into the world having to be two men instead of one, and when his father fell through as the family’s provider, he had to pick up the slack for three. It was a lot for someone to handle even without the challenges of fame. The more you worked with Elvis, the more convinced you became that he could have benefitted from therapy a decade sooner.

In all honesty, you were glad Elvis’ appointments were at the end of the day, because they began to become almost as draining for you as you figured they were for him. Still, he never missed an appointment and always arrived early. The work you did was always difficult, and you couldn’t help but empathize with your patients, but Elvis seemed to take everything out of you.

One weekend, you had plans to get dinner with Mark, a man around your age who you’d met in grad school and had an on-and-off again relationship for a while, before deciding to stay friends. Out of habit you both referred to whenever you’d get together as ‘dates’, and the one you planned was at a higher end restaurant in Memphis. The two of you had been so busy with work that when he called you to catch up, you hadn’t realized it’d been months since you’d seen him. The restaurant was the type of place where you had to make reservations in advance, and so with this in mind, he made one a few weeks prior.

When you and Mark arrived at the restaurant, there was a crowd of loud and restless people overflowing into the street. The two of you pushed your way through to get inside and waited to speak to the host, who informed you that due to unforeseen circumstances, there’d be a thirty minute wait for your table despite your reservation.

The two of you considered leaving and going to a different restaurant, but decided against it, since you had the reservation anyway. To your relief, the wait only ended up being less than five minutes, even though you could tell by the reservation list on the host’s podium that several couples were still ahead of you and Mark.

A waiter led you to your table, and after taking your dinner orders, Mark excused himself to go to the restroom. While waiting for him to return, you could hear people gasp and murmur behind you, until a familiar shadow fell over your table.

“Dr. Y/L/N, funny meeting you here,” Elvis said.

You raised your eyebrows, not expecting to see your high-profile patient of all people in the restaurant. “Mr. Presley, how are you?”

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.”

“Are you here alone?”

“No, my date is just in the restroom.”

His expression shifted, but he nodded agreeably. “Well, have a good night.”

“You too,” you whispered as he walked away.

Fuck. He was upset you were there with someone. It wasn’t uncommon for your patients to temporarily redirect their codependent tendencies onto you, considering the level of emotional intimacy that was involved with the therapy. It’d only once escalated to a level where you felt obligated to refer the patient to another therapist, but you hoped that wouldn’t be the case with Elvis. He’d been making great progress with each session.

When Mark had returned to the table, you gave him a strained smile but continued on with the date as usual. About halfway into your meal, the waiter approached with a bottle of wine neither of you had ordered.

Before you could question anything, the waiter said, “Compliments of Mr. Presley.”

“As in Elvis Presley?” Mark asked.

The waiter nodded and set the bottle on the table. You weakly told him to thank Elvis, and he left to do so. As soon as he was out of earshot, Mark leaned in, “Is Elvis Presley your patient?”

“I won’t answer that, Mark.”

“Holy shit,” he said, opening the bottle of wine.

You didn’t recognize the label from the wine rack at the supermarket and figured it was some expensive brand that was either old or imported, or both. As Mark poured himself a glass, you contemplated whether or not to drink it. Refusing so would confirm that Elvis was your patient, but drinking it would mean you accepted a gift from a patient, both situations required you violating your own code of ethics. Sighing, you let Mark fill your own glass with the wine.

The rest of the night with Mark was fun as you caught up on your personal lives, and Elvis didn’t make a reappearance at all. When Mark walked you back to your car, the two of you promised not to go as long without seeing each other again, and parted with a quick kiss.

You spent Sunday lazily reading in the comfort of your apartment, adjusting the radio in your living room to different stations every so often. All of them seemed to play at least one of Elvis’ songs at some point, and you wondered if you were only noticing the frequency he was on the radio now that he was your patient. Some artists were just radio mainstays, and he was one of them.

On Monday, you knew you’d have to address the situation with the wine to Elvis, but to your surprise, he beat you to it.

“So, how was the wine?” Elvis asked.

“It was kind of you to go out of your way to have something so nice brought to my table, but I can’t accept gifts from patients,” you said. “I hope you understand.”

He narrowed his eyes, leaning over so his elbows were resting on his knees as he asked, “That guy you were out with, he your husband?”

“No, just a friend.”

“You married?”

“No, but–”

“You ever been married?”

“No,” you repeated, “but while we’re on the subject, let’s discuss your marriage and Priscilla.”

You noticed him hesitate to answer. “Is that okay?”

“Sure,” he said.

“How did you meet Priscilla?”

“Her daddy and me were both stationed in Germany at the same time. I met her when she came to a party at my house one night.”

“What attracted you to her?”

“She wasn’t like anyone else I’d ever met in my life. She was beautiful and sweet. I just knew there was somethin’ different about her,” he said, quickly adding. “I was respectful, ya know. She put up with a lot from me, but she was there when I needed someone.”

“You mentioned in a previous session that your mother died while you were in basic training, and after the funeral you were sent to Germany, where you met Priscilla. Do you think you incorporated her into your grieving process?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

You kept pressing him for more details, knowing it wasn’t a coincidence that he happened to meet the woman he’d go on to marry after such a devastating loss. The more he elaborated on his relationship, the more you came to understand the codependent nature of it as well. Priscilla became a stand-in for his mother despite her youth, and he began to depend on her the same way. You found it particularly interesting that he encouraged her to dye her hair and gave her the same nickname he had given his mother.

“I understand you and your ex-wife are still close, and she’s part of the reason you’re here. Can I ask you, when you and Priscilla divorced, what you were feeling?” you asked.

“I–I’m sorry, can we talk about something else?”

You nodded, making a note to revisit that later. For the rest of that session and Thursday’s session, the two of you spoke mundanely about how his day to day life was going, the strides he was making to live a more sustainable lifestyle. He informed you that he wanted to make music and perform again, but wouldn’t tour while his lawsuit with Tom Parker was ongoing. Even then, he planned to take it slow, scheduling dates more spaced out to give himself time to rest. He did mention trying to work something out with his team to do one-off performances in the Memphis area in the meantime, to figure out how this new era of his career would go.

The following afternoon, when you usually had an hour or so break between sessions to have lunch, you were interrupted by repeated knocking at your office door. You opened it to find a gift basket on the ground, looking back and forth in the hallway to see if the person who left it was still there, you picked it up and brought it over to your desk. The basket was filled with an assortment of goods that you knew must have been expensive from the brand names that you actually did recognize, and all of the gifts were perfectly suited to your taste. For a moment, you thought it was Mark’s doing, but when you read the attached card, you sighed.

Early on in your career, you had made it a rule to not accept gifts or favors from patients. It helped establish to your patients that you were their doctor, not their friend, as much as you did care for them. You took your ethical responsibility as a therapist seriously, and so you contacted the company where the gift basket had come from, informing them that you’d like them to pick it up and inform the sender that you couldn’t accept it. You’d been expecting the phone call you received about an hour later.

“I tried to get what I thought you’d like,” Elvis said. “Guess I don’t know you as well as I thought.”

“Mr. Presley, I told you in our last session that I don’t accept gifts from patients. I appreciate the gesture, it was extremely thoughtful, but it violates my personal ethics.”

“You drank the wine I sent over to your table,” he argued.

You pursed your lips. You knew letting Mark accept it was a mistake. “That was a completely different scenario. If I had publicly refused, it would have confirmed to my date that you were my patient. I made the decision to respect your privacy.”

From the way he huffed over the phone, he was frustrated. He always did so in sessions when you pressed him to dig deeper into the aspects of the major relationships in his life that he didn’t want to confront. “I understand, doctor. I just wanted to show my appreciation for you, is all. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Have a good night, Mr. Presley. See you on Monday,” you said.

The next few months went on without incident, and you were pleased with the progress you were making with Elvis. He was willing to open up to you much more, and you found yourself revealing some information about yourself to him as well. Sometimes, it unnerved you how he seemed to remember things you had mentioned in passing weeks or even months before, as if he were taking his own notes on you.

Once in a while, you’d run into him while you were running errands and minding your business in Memphis, having quick and cordial conversations before going your separate ways. Part of you suspected it was deliberate, as a man as famous as him knew he couldn’t step foot anywhere outside of his home without making the news.

On a Friday evening, as you led your last client of the day out of your office, a man you didn’t recognize was standing in the waiting room, looking around at the decor in your office. When you walked out, he looked at you as if he’d seen a ghost.

Before you could speak, he said, “You look really familiar.”

“I don’t know how that could be. I don’t believe we’ve met before,” you said. “I’m Dr. Y/L/N.”

He hesitated before answering. “I must be seeing things, then. I’m Jerry.”

“Nice to meet you, Jerry. May I ask what brings you to my office?”

“Elvis sent me. He’s doing his first show in over a year next weekend, and he wanted me to bring you this VIP pass. Soundcheck, front row seat, backstage access, the works,” he said, holding out the small plastic card to you. “It’s in town, so he’ll send a car for you.”

You shook your head, feeling like a broken record when you declined. “I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t accept gifts from patients. Please send my regards and tell him thank you anyway.”

Jerry nodded. “Alright, nice to meet you, Doc.”

As soon as he left, you collapsed onto the couch. You were making great progress with Elvis, serious progress, but it was clear that he was shifting his codependent tendencies onto you. As much as you didn’t want to, you had to consider referring him to another therapist. It’d be a hassle for him, as the closest therapist with the same specialization as you was located in Nashville. It wasn’t uncommon for your patients to exhibit similar behavior toward you, especially early on in their treatment, but you’d been working with Elvis for nearing a year. You decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, as his case was far more complex than any of your other clients, past or present.

While you were in the supermarket checkout later that evening, you glanced at the tabloid magazines that were displayed next to you, and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the cover of most of them–various photos of Elvis, out and about in Memphis with different women who all looked almost exactly like you. Suddenly, you felt as though everyone in the store was staring at you, and you abandoned your cart, rushing out of the store and to your car where you had your first panic attack in years.

As you cried into the steering wheel, attempting to catch your breath, your mind raced at the implications of what you just saw. The women were stand-ins for you, but they weren’t enough for him, they never would be. You knew that if you continued to spurn his advances, they’d only become more elaborate and unavoidable, and by giving him some of the attention he desired, you’d only be encouraging his unhealthy behavior. Your next session with Elvis was that upcoming Monday, and you’d make sure to let him know about your colleague in Nashville and cut all ties with the rockstar.

By the time Monday morning rolled around, you wanted to cancel all of your other appointments for the day, but your other patients didn’t deserve to have their treatment interrupted because of one patient. The day flew by, to your dismay, and 4:30 arrived far sooner than you were ready when he walked through the door and into your office. He sat down in his usual seat, and you resisted the urge to glare at him. You didn’t appreciate being manipulated for personal gain, and you figured he of all people would have understood that.

“Mr. Presley,” you began sternly. “I have repeatedly tried to enforce the professional nature of our relationship as doctor and patient, and yet you insist on sabotaging the massive strides you’ve made in your treatment by repeatedly making attempts to violate that. I think that continuing to see me as a therapist would be detrimental to your recovery, so I’m referring you to a colleague of mine with a similar specialization. After this session, I will no longer be your therapist.”

He stared at you incredulously before becoming stone-faced. “Well, since you won’t be my therapist anymore, I guess you can accept all those gifts now.”

Your mouth nearly fell open at his boldness. “Mr. Presley, you’re missing the point entirely.”

“No, I think I get the point loud and clear, Y/N.”

Your chest contracted as his use of your first name. “Mr. Presley, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.”

He stood up from his chair, and instead of walking out the door, crossed the few feet of space between you and caged you into your chair. He stared down at you intensely, silently, for what felt like hours. Too frightened to move, you held his gaze until he cupped your chin in his hand, gently rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“You’re doin’ this for us, mama,” he whispered, “so we can be together.”

“I’m doing this for my own safety.”

“I knew you felt the same way about me, how much you wanted me too.”

“Elvis, please, let’s just sit back and discuss this. I won’t refer you to another therapist,” you lied, trying to appeal to whatever sense of rationality he may have had.

His other hand drifted to your thigh, inching its way up your skirt. Feeling a rush of adrenaline, you pushed him off of you and hoped that it would disorient him enough for you to run out the door. Instead, he beat you to it, pressing you against the wooden door that stood between your freedom and captivity.

“C’mon, mama, we’ve had this date since the beginning,” he purred in your ear.

Perhaps you had been too preoccupied with having Elvis Presley as a professional success story than acknowledging the delusional and obsessive tendencies he displayed. Where did you go wrong? You tried to think back through a year’s worth of therapy sessions to figure out when exactly you’d given Elvis the impression that you were interested in him romantically or sexually, but were torn from your thoughts when he kissed you aggressively. He must have mistaken your attempts at protests for moans, because he only deepened the kiss, biting your bottom lip so you’d gasp in pain, giving his tongue access to your mouth.

You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself and tried once again to push away, but he was too strong–and determined as he backed you into your desk, the impact from both of your bodies bumping against it sending some of the items to the floor.

“Elvis, you don’t have to do this,” you pleaded. Why were you still coddling him?

“You want this, mama,” he groaned, grinding his clothed erection against your exposed leg like a dog in heat. “I know you do.”

He didn’t give you an opportunity to argue, bringing his lips to yours again and hastily unbuttoning your blouse. He rid you of your bra just as quickly, and took one of your breasts in his mouth. Guiding one of your hands to his crotch, he rubbed your hand against it, and you let out an involuntary whimper as his moans vibrated against your sensitive nipple.

Thrusting against your hand, he pulled away from your breast, muttering something about cumming in his pants if he didn’t do anything about it soon. He shed his shirt, throwing it aside. The reality of the situation hit you as he lifted you back on top of the desk and pulled down your panties. He dragged his ring finger up your slit, and you shivered at the sensation of the cold metal of his rings against it. Apparently satisfied with how wet you were, he wasted no time unzipping his pants and ridding himself of them to reveal he hadn’t been wearing any underwear. You stared wide-eyed at his cock, as he stroked it before positioning it at your weeping cunt.

“Just take it, mama. Be real good for me and take it like I know you can,” he cooed in an attempt to placate you as he slid himself into you.

You choked on air at the sensation, not expecting how big he’d be, and tears began to run down your face. He kissed them away as he thrust into you, whispering about how good you were being, how perfect you were. Two of his fingers played with your clit, and your felt your vision go hazy at the pleasure that was building up in your core. You’d never felt that good in your life. Maybe you did want it after all.

“Fuck, daddy,” you moaned, nearly throwing your hands over your mouth at the realization of what you had said.

That seemed to stir something in him, because his thrusts became harsher and more erratic while you berated yourself for actually enjoying it. The moans that came from your throat sounded almost foreign to you.

“You got no idea how often I thought about this, mama,” he managed to groan. “Come for daddy.”

With a grotesque cry, you came, feeling yourself clench around him as he kept up his ruthless pace. His own orgasm followed soon after yours, and as you felt him cum inside you, you weren’t sure whether you hated him or yourself more. What felt like hours passed before he finally pulled out from you, leaving your inner thighs wet with cum and lightly bruised.

You looked at him through your tears, knowing your mascara was surely tracked down your face. He reached for you, and you flinched back, nearly falling off of your desk until he steadied you, and you broke down into humiliating sobs into his shoulder, your nails purposely digging into his skin. You wanted to hurt him, somehow, make him feel how you felt. Instead, he seemed unfazed, releasing you from his grip when your crying had settled down to hold your face in his hands.

He looked into your eyes with all of the delusional affection you’d feared and whispered, “You’re my girl, my bestest girl.”

#elvis x reader #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #yandere!elvis x reader #yandere x reader #elvis #elvis 2022 #austin!elvis #yandere elvis

2K notes · View notes

starlightandfairies · 23 days

Note

Helloooo :) i hope you’re having a wonderful day or night! Or just both lol. Anyways, is it okay if I ask for a Klaus Mikaelson x Female reader one-shot? For me, I don’t like where the reader just falls in love with him so quickly, despite everything he has done. I was thinking of something with fluff and he has to work for her love? So basically, reader has been friends with Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline since childhood, but she’s still human. And she hates Klaus for what he has done to her friends and family, but despite everything he has done he hasn’t don’t anything to harm her physically in any way. (Hint hint, cause it means he likes her lol). And because of this, he tries to show he genuinely cares about her. It takes her a long while to eventually warm up to him.

Sorry, this is a lot -_-…uh, and not very detailed lol. I wanted to leave it up to your imagination, but totally fine if you can’t cause writers block and other things. Anyway, an idea: maybe reader gets saved by Klaus and he admits he likes her but she kinda plays hard to get. of course, she can’t help but to be flattered by his accent, his flattery, his looks, etc. And because she is human, being tortured or just kidnapped by supernatural beings is genuinely terrifying and he comforts her? I hope this is all okay! Of course you can change or add whatever you’d like. I love Klaus so much, and I love your writing!

Description: If the great Niklaus Mikaelson wants to become closer to the reader then he would have to push through thick and thin to do so.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you for requesting this! I hope you enjoy it! I really tried my best to show this eventual bonding that is more realistic, while also not rambling on for a story length.

Key: Y/N = Your Name, L/N = Last name, POV = Point of view, F/fs = favourite flowers

Word Count: 1, 915

First Person's POV

Niklaus Mikaelson drove me insane, I do not understand how he thought he could follow me around, begging for my interest like he hasn't done anything wrong to those around him. The great Klaus Mikaelson was many things but he wasn't the type of man I would bend over backwards to show that their past didn't matter. I won't lie, there were times when it was hard to really show my distaste for the Hybrid due to that accent, his looks and his charisma but I do like to pride myself on my stubbornness and the fact that I'm not that easy to charm.

Besides Matt, I was the only other human, sure Bonnie was in a sense human but she had her magic to protect her and I had nothing. I didn't have any of that. I was just a straight-up human who could die at any second or become permanently injured if tossed around too harshly. The girls have grown to somewhat like him and every now and again will remind me of the fact that not once has he ever tried to hurt me, not once has he ever used me as bait or tried threatening me in any way shape or form.

Bonnie, Caroline and Elena have all expressed their hatred for the man and it only fueled mine. I have no clue what it would take for me to show any sign of sympathy for the man or any sense of forgiveness considering what he's done. There were times when I even disliked Damon and Stefan for what they've done. Sure, it might be contractionary of me to like the Salvatores and not hate them like I did Klaus... but still.

It's at least been a good two years of having the Mikaelsons in our lives. Rebekah and Elijah were tolerable. I felt for Rebekah and Elijah seemed true to his word, even if he was sometimes conflicted between his family and his morals. Klaus was

"Hey, Y/n!" I huffed, stopping in my tracks, knowing there was no use in continuing on when he could easily Casper the ghost right in front of me. I crossed my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow, not impressed by his persistent attitude.

"What do you want Niklaus?

"Well, love... I was hoping I could treat you to some dinner. Show you some of the best places. Things you couldn't possibly comprehend seeing." I rolled my eyes, shook my head, sucked my lips into a straight line and raised an eyebrow.

"Really, Niklaus? Every time it's been a no. What makes you think this will be a yes?"

"I saw your play last night, I think you are a pretty amazing actress." I didn't believe him, I think that he's making stuff up, trying to show that he's a good guy.

"Prove it, what happened when the actor playing Stanley threw his chair." Klaus chuckled lightly, licking his lips for a moment before he walked closer and leaned in for a moment.

"You tripped over your own feet, fell over... you worked it into your performance, no one in that audience would've known any different. I think skill like that is pretty talented. I have seen many performers across my lifetime and not many could do that." I rocked on my feet, biting my lips and huffing for a moment.

"You came to my performance?" I questioned my tone soft for a moment, surprised that Klaus came. The girls weren't able to due to supernatural issues happening again, I didn't want to show any sign of falling for his charm.

"Yes, I did. I don't know why you sound so surprised..." I shrugged, taking a breath, glancing away for a moment trying to remain as stoic as I could.

"I have to go, goodbye, Klaus." I carried on my way, going back to doing what I originally planned on doing before. Tonight was the closing night of A Streetcar Named Desire the girls were meant to show but once again due to the new big bad in town, they didn't show. I stood in my dressing room, wiping off my makeup before the tears could come. I was just about to open the door before I was stopped by Klaus.

"K-Klaus... what, what are you doing here?" He handed me a bouquet of my F/fs, I took them with a small smile and stepped aside to allow him into the dressing room.

"You got your own dressing room, that's pretty neat..." The Hybrid trailed off, glancing at the desk that was covered in tissues, I moved to clean them up but he moved in front of me before I could.

"Why are you crying...?"

"I'm okay Niklaus." I turned to him hearing his chuckle, I raised an eyebrow in question, how dare he laugh at me!

"I promise, I'm not laughing at you, I'm laughing at the fact that when I'm getting closer to breaking down your walls, you call me Klaus but when you realise that you're dropping your walls you go right back to calling me Niklaus." I sat back down, staring at him surprised that he picked up on something that I hadn't actively been aware of doing.

"My friends couldn't come. They promised that they would but because of the new big bad in town... they couldn't and because I'm human-" Realising I was sharing my than I would like to Klaus, I bit my lip trying to remind myself that I couldn't get close to Klaus.

"Let me read you something." He pulled out a newspaper, I gave him the benefit of the doubt, just for once but turned my attention to continuing to remove my makeup.

"Y/n L/n's performance as Blanche DuBois has been spectacular on all nights of the production. In my years as a critic, I have never seen this much dedication and accuracy similar to the vision Tennessee Williams had when picturing Blanche DuBois. I admire Y/n greatly as a performer and know that she is an actress highly dedicated to perfecting her characters' mannerisms and hope that she goes far with her acting journey." I stared at Klaus surprised, I jumped to my feet, staring at Klaus with intrigue and took the paper from his hands.

I read the words, staring at them in shock that this was actually true, the author's name is what shocked me the most. Klaus M

"You wrote this?"

"I did."

"And you mean it?"

"I do." Maybe... maybe if a man who didn't know me could make the time to watch all of my performances... maybe he wasn't so bad.

"Thank you, Klaus... it means a lot."

It took two years, four months and 18 days for Klaus Mikaelson to get me to warm up to him, I think I deserve a trophy for just how long I've made him work to get to know me better. The truth is, I am terrified of getting killed, kidnapped or tortured by the supernatural me, I mean what if someone worse than Klaus comes into town and because I am one of the very few humans left in town I get used as collateral?

I was walking home from the Grill, minding my own business until everything went dark and I finally came to find myself tied up in a chair, blood dripping from my nose, head and stomach. I cried out, looking around terrified of who could be hurting me and what they would do if they didn't get what they wanted.

"Hmm, you're awake again. Try not to pass out this time... the blood loss will really be screwing with your head. I would apologise but I really don't care I just need that damn hybrid to come forward and save your ass-"

"Who are you?" I cried out, trying my best to not show weakness but the pain in my limbs and the fear that was coming in made it impossible to think of anything but my pain.

"Who I am isn't important, I tried to keep your face pretty but you know." The unknown figure shrugs, leaning in closer and grabbing my face in his hands with a glare forming and with a snarl he reveals his fangs. I shake my head, feeling his breath on my skin and whimper feeling his fangs pierce my neck.

It fades away swiftly, the tears cascade down my cheeks, and I stare in shock seeing Klaus standing there and dropping the man's heart onto the floor. Within an instant I was in his arms, I grabbed onto his shirt letting out a sob and whimpering as the pain seemed to increase.

"Shh, love, it's okay... you're gonna be okay. I've got you." Klaus reassured, biting into his wrist, he gestures to his wrist and I slowly suck on his wrist.

"I won't let anything happen to you, love. I am very fond of you, I will not let anything happen before I can tell you just how fond I am of you." I stared in fascination as my body healed instantly, it always surprised me and always made me curious to realise how lucky these supernatural beings were.

"Please, please don't let them hurt me. Don't let them get to me."

"It's okay, love. I've got you."

"I'm so scared, every day, I'm scared that I'm going to be kidnapped or tortured... being human, I know I'm nothing compared-"

"I won't let that happen. Love, I won't let anyone hurt you, not again. I swear to you." He hummed lightly, rocking me in his arms and whispered over and over again kind and soothing words. I decided to bring it back to his starting words, once I felt okay and able to move on from what just happened.

"You're fond of me? Nothing new-" I stated, with a shrug, biting back the smile I wanted to show, Klaus chuckled and helped me to my feet. I stared at him, surely making a weird expression as I hid my emotions.

"I am fond of you, I like you, quite a bit and I want you to know, love I will do anything to keep you safe. Even if you hate me for the rest of eternity, I will do what I can to keep you safe." My heart skipped a beat, it made me feel special knowing that someone cared for me that much, I nodded and sucked in a breath gradually letting a smile come through.

"Thank you for saving me... "

"You're welcome, love. Love, I hope you know how gorgeous you are." I blushed, scrunching my face up as his normal charm got to me more than normal.

"Flattery only gets you so far."

"Yet, it got me to becoming closer to you." I shrugged, smirking for a moment and sucked in a deep breath. I grabbed his hand, smiling happily and tried my best to not focus in on the blood on my clothes, his clothes and the floor from the attacker.

"Well, then, perhaps I'll let you in closer."

105 notes · View notes

djarinbabysnotes · 4 months

Text

FIC IDEA

Matt Murdock falls in love with a detective.

Now, hear me out: Detective moves from a different state and is now being crucified by their new coworkers in the NYPD because they're brave enough to question certain abnormalities in how criminals are being processed. Wilson Fisk is behind the corruption part of the law, as always. Detective hates how things are in the workplace and is therefore very stressed.

Matt Murdock is called upon by an old friend who needs a lawyer. Matt arrives at the precinct and has a run-in with the Detective, and the Detective's sleuthing intuition tells them that this lawyer feels like he's full of secrets. The Detective then theorizes that this lawyer is somehow working for the corrupt man on top. Tension ensues.

A cocky defense attorney? Like who does he think he is? This isn't the Detective's first rodeo when it comes to overconfident men.

Here's where it gets interesting: First off, Lawyer/Cop relationships? Isn't that like, illegal in the laws of the universe? YUP! Both parties are CONFLICTED with their feelings and therefore WILL develop a hate-fueled acquaintanceship. Workplace Enemies to Potential Secret Lovers, if you will. During investigations, Detective will have run-ins with Daredevil and will find him very interesting, to say the least. Of course, Detective doesn't know that Daredevil is Matt, even while conducting a secret investigation on the mystery hot guy with a disturbingly sexy husk in his voice (Daredevil) while ALSO conducting a separate investigation on this random annoying lawyer who ruins everything every time he walks into their workplace. Foggy and Karen will ABSOLUTELY try their very fucking best to throw off the scent (e.g. "Yeah, I met the Devil of Hell's Kitchen a couple of times. He had blond hair. Saw it myself. He also talks like he's been in jail countless times. Definitely an ex-con. Loves breaking the law." and "He saved me from an attack at my apartment, yeah, he's left-handed.")

As the Detective keeps on having run-ins with Daredevil, the Detective begins to harbor an unwanted crush on the guy. Of course, right? I mean... A guy dressed as the devil pushes you out of the way before you get shot at by a random goon? Chivalry isn't dead. Also, he flirts but purposefully makes it slightly awkward because he knows how this game works. He likes to tease. He reads body language when he has to. He would pull out the 'I like listening to your voice' line (his signature line!) on the most quiet night just to hear nothing but the Detective's heart going bonkers.

And as Matt, being the Detective's biggest pain in the ass, he would randomly switch up on a random Monday. From being the most annoyingly confident lawyer who pulls out the 'not another word with my client, detective' line to the unexpected 'good morning' followed with a 'thank you, detective' after the Detective mindlessly points him to the direction of where he's supposed to go. And to top it all off, he smiles— but not with his usual sarcastic smirk followed with a huff— it's a first for him to smile with a gentle nod before lingering for a split second as if he wants to say more.

Like I said, he knows how this game works. He's a mastermind.

But then again, on paper, A lawyer isn't supposed to be falling in love with a cop and vice versa... But never say never, right?

Anyway! This is just a silly idiots-to-lovers idea that will probably take me eons to write if I even have the time to do so.

Potential starter playlist for this fic (because I love feeding my delusions, and peak delusion starts with Taylor Swift's discography):

"Mastermind" - Taylor Swift

"The Archer" - Taylor Swift

"I Can See You" - Taylor Swift

"gold rush" - Taylor Swift

"Slut!" - Taylor Swift

"willow" - Taylor Swift

"long story short" - Taylor Swift

#matt murdock #matt murdock fic #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fanfic #fic ideas #fanfic #fanfic authors #ao3 author #daredevil fanfiction #fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #enemies to lovers #idiots to lovers

99 notes · View notes

kerubimcrepin · 2 months

Text

The big analysis of Joris Jurgen's horrible-no-good childhood.

TW: discussions of child neglect, and what might constitute as emotional abuse.

Firstly, to address something, I hadn't in the last liveblog: There are plenty of times in the show where one can see Joris saying things that he may not entirely mean...

But it is especially interesting to see him say something like this immediately after breaking down into tears about it just a scene prior.

Hm. Anyway. I'm sure this won't affect their relationship going forward.

I've discussed Kerubim's issues of self-worth, loneliness, and dishonesty, before on this blog, — but you will never believe it, Kerubim isn't the only one who suffers because of his issues.

It's nigh time we discuss seven-year-old Joris, and the terrible, no good, case of emotional repression and lying.

Let's set the stage first.

Joris grew up in a deeply isolated and neglectful, and at times dangerous, environment, in every single way. And the child neglect Kerubim engaged in lessened, but did not stop after Simone arrived.

He did not have any family members besides Kerubim, — for obvious reasons, both of their family members are either dead, or want nothing to do with them, — and he did not have any friends, besides Tatak. The reason he did not have friends is unknown, but there are several factors that may have contributed to that:

The sorry state of their house might have complicated his relationship with other kids and given him and Kerubim a poor reputation among neighbours;

The part of the city they live in might simply not have a lot of families, due to being a — being, perhaps, mostly populated by adventurers and other people in violent professions, as well as the shops that cater to them (which are, in turn, mostly ran by retired adventurers).

And then there's the third thing: Kerubim is his best friend.

Joris did not have a support system in the form of an extended family, — or at the very least, in the form of friends outside the household, — and It doesn't seem like the other adults Kerubim knows were at all involved in Joris's childhood. Besides that, Joris was seemingly homeschooled, — and, considering Kerubim's finances, and his referencing at least one school's existence, there were other options.

For the large part of Joris's life, they only had one another, and it almost seems like Kerubim, with his abandonment issues, and low self-esteem, acted in ways that isolated Joris further.

Due to Ecaflip's mistreatment of him as a child, and his loneliness due to the death of his family when he was a child, — what he wanted the most as a father was to be a best friend to Joris.

(And, much more selfishly, not that he would admit that, — he wanted someone to replace Lou/Indie/Atcham/Bashi/Everyone else who has left him.)

He could remember being a child, and he knew how he would have liked to be treated, — as a peer, obviously. It's important for peers to respect each other equally, and listen to each other's pain, right?

Except, in a way, Kerubim is perpetuating a cycle here.

And children are not peers, best friends, or caretakers. They depend on their parents for their survival.

And Joris knows what will happen to him, if Kerubim is gone. Kerubim himself was an orphan, and has shared more than enough stories about that.

Because of this, thoughts of Kerubim passing away are a usual worry for Joris, no doubt fueled by Kerubim's dramatics, and love for his attention — and it means he'll do everything to make sure Kerubim is happy and healthy.

Even if it means sacrificing his own comfort for his sake. Even if it means putting up with being treated badly.

Joris and Kerubim have what is known as an "enmeshed", or "codependent", parent-child relationship, the characteristics of which are, according to online resources:

Parents expecting children to be their best friends and always confiding in them.

Children receiving praise for maintaining the family’s status quo, and conflict-avoidant behaviours.

The lack of emotional and physical boundaries.

Role reversal, in the form of the child being expected to take care of the parent's mental health. (Despite lacking the maturity to)

Children prioritizing parents needs and feelings over their own.

Childhood overindulgence, in the form of the parent using the child for wish fulfilment.

Another interesting titbit that informs his character, is that, from a very young age, children learn how to respond to their feelings and express them, based on the way adults behave, by mirroring those behaviours, — and Kerubim is anything but honest about his feelings, more often than not, putting on a brave smile.

Joris values his stories more than anything, despite knowing that, often, they may be fake, at least in some parts. To him, words matter more than the truth of the matter, when push comes to shove between them. But also, he doesn't like outright lies, which are just as plentiful between them.

Despite how he may usually act, Joris isn't really the happiest about how their family is. He knows that Kerubim is dishonest and neurotic, and, in a way, it causes dissonance in his mind. He loves him more than anything, and to trust him, — but he knows that to trust Kerubim is to be disappointed.

When something bad happens? It's a guarantee, that instead of being comforted, it will be his job to pretend to be comforted, so that Kerubim doesn't completely fall apart. So that he can still be taken care of, — and every child wants to be taken care of.

Yet another thing he can't really trust Kerubim with.

Just like Kerubim, he is growing up to be a good liar. And someone very much afraid of being abandoned.

But everyone has their limit, fear of abandonment or not. No matter how much you repress these feelings, they'll come bubbling to the surface eventually.

...An interesting tidbit about children raised in enmeshed relationships, is that, at times, as adults, they find it difficult to trust others, open up to people, or have close friends in general. Due to guilt of those people on the outside not being their family, and due to associating close relationships with pain, responsibility, and giving up a part of themselves.

They grow up to be aloof, flighty, and cold.

Another interesting tidbit is that, sometimes, they find themselves unable to leave at all.

#ep48 #- only on a technicality. because the post begins with that episode's ending #ro liveblogs dofus #joris jurgen #dofus #krosmoz #wakfu #kerubim crepin #because im slam dunking him here. DIE old man

95 notes · View notes

sanctus-ingenium · 2 months

Note

I'd looove to hear a little about your worldbuilding process if you don't mind sharing. How do you go about it? I know you have shared in a few posts already but just wanna know moree. Also where did it all begin? What inspired you? (eating it all uppp!!!)

hi!! I know I wrote a big long thing like last year or the year before about the process to making a setting but I cannot be arsed to find it rn so here's some disconnected thoughts

Overall I don't really make Headworlds or Worldbuilding Projects the way a lot of people do (which is why u keep hearing me say 'setting' over and over) because mainly what I make are stories in the order of characters -> plot -> world. those three things have to serve one another in that order of importance, so the world itself bends to serve the narrative. for example, ultimately idgaf where the holy beasts' skeletons come from, that is not important because the beasts are basically just a big plot device to serve the story. i can make some post-hoc justifications for their existence (and i did) but at the end of the day it will not and does not matter how they work or where they come from. the world is full of mysteries that will never be solved because the characters are not in a position to solve them. aside from a single border conflict, the world outside the mezian empire is nebulous and unimportant.

I don't enjoy working in a world -> narrative order because what I want to produce isn't just a series of info posts or artpieces about a setting, but a closed and self-contained story which is the justification for the entire world's existence. Headworlds that are all world and no character don't interest me.

So basically in the process of worldbuilding, I have to serve the story. A while back I made a post about continental history around Inver, all these wars and occupations and schisms and so on. All of those exist solely to provide a particular political climate, justification for Aquitan's theocratic structure, and the spread of the southern church north into Inver. I already had the idea of this church, that it would be integral to the country as a main political faction, so now I have to figure out how it got there and the political ramifications of that. It's all worldbuilding for sure, but it's a support structure underneath the story about how that church eventually changes world history, because i wanted to write a story about a church lol.

I guess if I wanted to explain The Process for a world -> characters setting i'd just be giving you How To Write A Story 101 lol. But basically: I think of a concept which interests me (big mechs yay). Then I think of a conflict that might arise (where does the fuel come from? who controls that supply? what might that do to the concentration of power in this area?). Then I put a character in what I consider to be the most interesting position to observe the effects of this conflict (a knight, an enginesmith, an exile), and honestly the main plot generally writes itself after that. I extrapolate the hook from that.

In terms of characters, I try to avoid calling them 'ocs' because in my mind 'oc' tends to be a very static stand-alone thing. Like I couldn't make a useful ref sheet of my characters because they are all changed by the story. I couldn't say 'he has a carefree personality' because in a few chapters no he fucking won't. in the same way i struggle a LOT to talk about my Siren setting which as close to a specbio 'headworld' as i'm ever gonna get, because I am worldbuilding in vastly different time periods at once in a world which is always changing, i can't make a post about for example a map of Siren because that's just a map from one era, I'd need to make a dozen maps to show how things change, how time affects it all, etc.

Because nothing is ever static and everything is in flux, pretty much the only way I can handle a setting like this is, again, just to focus on a few small stories centered around a cast of characters separated by time (i have... 4 distinct stories in Siren. maybe more). this is actually a frustrating barrier to me sharing any information at all about this place lol i'm the struggler

Where did it all begin? When I was 11 I used to write stories in my copybooks in class. There has never been a time where I was not making stories and where my stories were not the only important thing at all to me, superseding literally everything else. I learned how to draw digitally in 2011 because I wanted to draw my characters.

What inspires me? Everything lol. I actually don't have time to Consume Media much, I struggle watching movies or tv and I mostly hate video games because I would much rather be productive and sitting and watching a screen feels like a waste of my time. but I like reading books because I can take them with me on my phone. I get ideas from all sources but mostly non-media sources, like obviously mythology but also my history with the church and my scientific education. Usually nonfictional sources interest me the most (i was going to write a whole story that was a post-apocalyptic plague plot based on canine transmissible venereal cancer haha and even to this day that's where "the Immortal Hound" title comes from, little easter egg in inver)

#sorry this is barely coherent

89 notes · View notes

rosiethedragongeek · 2 years

Text

Rating HTTYD antagonists/villains because I can

Stoick the Vast

8/10

He was an antagonist in the first movie change my mind. His conflict with Hiccup was super interesting and compelling, definetly one of my favorite parts of the movie

The Red Death

6/10

It did it’s job ig? It felt like a video game boss lol

Mildew

-100/10

I hate this greasy shit stain of a man and I have no clue how he got three wives

Fungus deserves better tbh

The Whispering Death

7.5/10

Fucking terrifying dude, absolute nightmare fuel, I love it (and it’s history w Toothless is a cool addition)

The Screaming Death

6/10

Not as scary as the whispering death, honestly, it was alright

Alvin the Outcast

7/10

Pretty basic, but he was solid. Really enjoy most of the episodes he’s in and I like the tie in w his history with Stoick

Savage

3/10

The greasiest man alive. He discovered free will halfway through Race to the Edge and even then he succeeded and literally nothing he tried. He’s kinda funny sometimes ig.

Heather the Unhinged

3/10

She was just so slimy and annoying in rob I didn’t like her at all lol

Beast (The Skrill)

8/10

I love all of the Skrill episodes so much omg. She’s so cool, I wish there was more of them

Dagur the Deranged

20/10

He’s actually insane and for that he’s my favorite. He’s just so good he’s so much fun

Berthel

1/10

He adds nothing to the story and I don’t particularly like him

Amos

2/10

His first episode is meh but I like some of his lines in Sandbusted

Ryker Grimborn

5/10

He’s alright. I like him well enough, but he’s certainly not my favorite HTTYD villain

Viggo Grimborn

15/10

Obsessed with this man. Easily the best HTTYD villain in the franchise and he creates the best conflicts in the series by far. I love the way he mirrors Hiccup’s character, I could honestly go on for a while about how much better he is than all of the other villains in the whole franchise lol

Krogan

7/10

His overall vibe is super cool and I really enjoyed that episode where he and Viggo were looking for ways to kill each other. His design is awesome

Trader (Traitor) Johann

10/10

Ruined the way I looked back on the hours in my childhood I spent watching ROB/DOB, I have never felt so betrayed in my life and I never will again, this man gave me trust issues

Drago Bludvist

3/10

He was alright, but I was never really scared of him. I liked how he killed Stoick, and he put Hiccup in an interesting situation, but other than that, he just didn’t do it for me

Grimmel the Grisly

0/10

Knock-off Viggo Grimborn. ‘You’ve never seen anyone like me’ yeah, alright. I hate his face and did not care about him. He shouldn’t have been the last straw for sending the dragons away, honestly

Spitelout Jorgenson

-100000000000000000000000/10

I hate him. This garbage man is an antagonist and you can’t change my mind. The Worst.

742 notes · View notes

silent-sanctum · 11 months

Note

During sdc Kakyoin notices that reader and Jotaro like each other but they’re too oblivious to realize it, so he acts as a wingman.

Hello dear anon! Sorry it took a while to fulfill this request but hey, your request has been written ^^. Oh just to add in a lil something, I've written another request that's similar to yours, so maybe you'd like to check it out as well! Hope you enjoy~~

Playing Cupid - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 2k+

Kakyoin wasn’t the type to be invested in romance. The genre didn’t pique genuine interest from him due to the majority having a plot that involved someone getting paired with someone else and nothing else.

But just because he isn’t one to indulge in romantic content doesn’t mean he’s completely naïve to real-life chemistry. Most especially if the main characters so happens to be two of his close friends- one being a closed-off punk and the other an outspoken gal.

The second you stepped into the scene with utmost confidence and a flustered Jotaro in tow, he could detect the invisible spark between the two, with how the both of you would bounce off of each other’s energy seamlessly without the presence of friction. It’s as if all the bickering, subtle touches, and subconscious choice to stick together came naturally.

And Kakyoin would have enjoyed watching these two people get together... if it weren’t for the obvious hesitation present between you two.

From the delinquent’s part, he could understand. Jotaro wasn’t one to be expressive or open to anyone about his emotions. Everyone had to see the miniscule changes to his face, body language, and gestures in order to know him better on a deeper level, and no one could do that better than you and your keen observation skills towards people.

However, Kakyoin was more confused when it came to your part. You never seem to hesitate when you want something in mind. You often butted heads with numerous Stand users, constantly spoke out to the older adults of the group when you had something to say during the mission, had no issue with dealing conflict between parties as an assertive peacemaker.

But he couldn’t figure out why you couldn’t blurt out a simple confession when it was clear as day that you had feelings for the young Joestar.

It’s not like Jotaro would decline your approaches when he didn’t mind whenever you engaged with him in every opportunity you had. Kakyoin could tell from the way he would look away with a natural blush on his cheeks, the rare smiles he’d show, and the efforts he placed to be around you when he wasn’t the type to do that with others.

You two were into each other but both of you were two idiots that were too oblivious to see that.

So Kakyoin had to put things into course the best his single ass could do.

In certain situations when he found himself in the middle of you two, he’d offer up some excuse to leave you two alone or even suggesting the pair be together during area explorations, in hopes some extra bonding could get you two somewhere.

Alas no progress has been made and he started devising.

The first plan he had in mind was to get either you or Jotaro to think of the other, fueling each other to the point of letting out their inner sentiments. He wasn’t the best at the initiating conversations like you or Polnareff, but he did improve ever since he joined the gang.

He deployed his idea to action and...

“So I’ve noticed you’ve been sticking by Jotaro’s side more often than before. Mind telling me what’s all that about?”

You widened your eyes and flushed a faint pink. “Ah it’s nothing. I just find it more familiar when I’m with him, since you know, he’s the first guy I became friends with among all of us here.”

“I see, but you know what else I’ve noticed?” Kakyoin placed a finger under his chin with a thoughtful expression. “He’s been extra attentive to you lately.”

“O-Oh? You think so? But maybe that’s just because I’m a girl. You know how he is with the non-annoying females...”

“I don’t think so. He wouldn’t waste his time looking after the wellbeing of someone he doesn’t deeply care for. Hell, he’s been doubling his gestures for your happiness and security during the one time you were gloomy.”

You let out an antsy laugh, turning away from his gaze. “Er- He might just be doing those things since I’m his first long-lasting friend and all- Oh! Would you look at that!” You abruptly stood, faking a look to your watch. “It’s about time I meet up with Pol and Avdol!”

---

“Hey Jojo,” Kakyoin said as he sat on the chair adjacent to the relaxing teenager. Everyone else was out exploring the new area, leaving him the opportunity to talk. “Up for a chat?”

Jotaro let out one approving grunt and he took that response as a “yes”.

“Take this with a grain of salt, but you’ve been unusually close to Y/N these days,” he said that prompted the other to look at him with a pointed glare. “I mean I don’t blame you. She’s a delight to be with and I frankly would say I’m impressed by how you’re spending time with her-”

“What are you up to Kakyoin?” Jotaro cut him off, arms crossed.

“Well you see... I’m curious why the always-reserved-and-no-time-for-bullshit Jotaro Kujo is often hanging out with a girl who’s the polar opposite of him.”

“It’s none of your business,” the delinquent said with no hesitation. Another inquiry was about to slip past him when the other stood, tipping his hat over his face before walking off.

Though Kakyoin could still see that faint red in his cheeks that appered every time you were brought up.

He wasn’t sure if Plan A worked well. The main reason why he doubted it was because the two of you still remained the same as before, albeit with a hint of bashfulness now mixed in.

At this point, it became lowkey frustrating to see you two pining for each other without acting on it, but at the same time, found it lovely to watch you be lovey dovey towards the raven-haired, with the latter softening his demeanor at your every interaction.

Desperate moments called for desperate measures. Plan B arose and this time, he had help.

The guy looked like the type who would indulge in the concept of love. It might be because he came from a place known for romance, or maybe it was naturally ingrained in his system. He did know his ways on how to appeal to the female locals with a semblance of suave.

It would come to no surprise if he had an idea on how to pair you together.

“Pol, I need your help in something.”

The Frenchman busied himself with styling his silver hair up, but he glanced at the cherry-haired student with a smile. “What might that be?”

“You know Jotaro and Y/N? They’re kinda... into each other-”

“And it’s annoying that they’re not together yet! Oh my god, finally someone who shares the same feelings I have!” Polnareff dropped his comb to turn to Kakyoin.

“Right? That’s why I need your help.” He placed both hands on the adult’s shoulders. “They’re driving me crazy.”

“Say no more friend. I will do the best that I can.”

Plan B was put into action which ended up in Polnareff doing most of the work with Kakyoin in the side helping out with the minor mishaps.

The adult did what he did when Plan A was still a thing- had a long chat with both parties... but with extra steps. Unlike his straightforward approach of simply chatting, Pol’s tactics involved getting the person in a preferred activity where he and they could hang out in. Only then when they’re eased into it will he initiate the chat.

Kakyoin couldn’t tell the difference between their approaches but he trusted the older and hopefully wiser person in the room.

But Pol did what he did by taking you on a casual date on a nearby cafe, treating you with food and drinks before having the “friend talk”, while he offered the delinquent quality time for smoking around the corner, only for him to somehow transition into the topic of teenage crushes. Kakyoin helped in convincing them to go with him as part of his contribution.

By the end of the day (or rather the week), not much had changed similar to his efforts of trying to get them to confess, but the Frenchman had assured the bright-haired student to “give it time” and it’ll all fall into place.

Kakyoin didn’t know what he meant by that but he knew better to doubt a hopeless romantic.

Weeks passed and by this time, they just defeated another enemy Stand user and they thought they’d give themselves a small break on a small island where Avdol stayed, waiting for the submarine Mr. Joestar acquired that will transport them to Egypt.

Night came and the crew had just finished supper and now off doing whatever they felt like doing during the resting period. The cherry-haired stood by Polnareff the entire time, discussing matters about the updates of the latter’s plan. According to him:

“If my idea goes through, expect him to enter into pondering mode sometime within tonight. Then, we approach him and offer him ‘the advice’”

“Polnareff, you’ve been saying the exact same thing for the past few days.”

“I know, I know! But hear me out! This night is a moment where all of us are resting. Because there’s nothing much to do, Jotaro has no other choice but to retreat into his head and think, and what else is there to think about other than all of my chat about Y/N?”

“His mother's life?”

“W-Well that too, but also the success of his possible love life.”

Kakyoin would have given up with his so-called advice and perhaps even his whole plan of pairing you two... if it weren't for the envisioned scene happening before their eyes- you sat beside him the whole time until you excused yourself and left, leaving Jotaro still in his spot hunched over and deep in thought.

The Frenchman nudged his side and with a wink, he cocked his head towards the delinquent’s direction, muttering “advice time”.

So they did exactly that with Kakyoin being the one to open up first followed by the adult. In the end, you returned and led the poor confused guy into the forest.

Both Kakyoin and Polnareff were left speechless on their seats as they realized that all this time, they were too hyperfocused on Jotaro’s response that they didn’t consider how you would respond to the whole chat Pol stirred up.

After all, you were the more expressive between the both of you. It made sense and the cherry-haired teen didn’t know why he forgot about that minor tidbit about you.

“Do you think they’ll finally figure it out?”

“I really hope so. I’m getting tired of them just walking circles around each other.”

Few minutes passed and they hadn’t returned from their private talk. Polnareff had retreated to slumber land but Kakyoin stayed awake with his curiosity getting the best of him.

He crept through the bushes, toeing over fallen leaves and twigs to not cause any noise. To his knowledge, there was only one scenic spot in Avdol's place and he was willing to bet that you discovered the area as well.

With the path in mind, the teen continued trekking forward until he could see a break in the line of trees.

He reached his destination with admirable stealth and hid himself behind one of the wider trunks. With caution, Kakyoin leaned over slowly to get the glimpse of success.

On the gentle incline of the clearing, he found you peacefully napping with your body blanketed with his black gakuran, laying across the delinquent’s lap and your head situated on his shoulder, while the latter smiled to himself with a new glow to his face as had his eyes closed and his arm placed behind you to support your weight.

And to that, Kakyoin could finally put his goal to rest and actually allow himself to rest as well.

Guess playing cupid with the Frenchman was something he could again in the future.

#jotaro x reader #jojos bizarre adventure #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin

183 notes · View notes

pandorasfavorite · 9 months

Text

Look at me

AN: I wrote this so fast because I know he would do this. ITS DOMINIK X READER THE GIF IS A LITTLE MISLEADING

A lot of the time the worry you have isn’t large. Injuries happen all the time in the WWE. The diffrence with this thought is that you are about to enter your 3rd trimester and pregnancy hormones are kicking your ass. Everything is so much more intense: the cravings, happiness, sadness, anger, worry; and all the other emotions. The worry for Dominik went from mild to crushing in a matter of weeks.

Him being in any sort of pain is your worst fear, tears burn your eyes at the thought. No matter how much you wish you could call and check on Dominik every hour of the day you knew it wasn’t ethical. To occupy your brain you decide to sit and watch Dominik on NXT even thought it makes your blood pressure go up a hare. You take a deep breathe remembering Dominik’s words “I promise I will be careful”, he repeats this routinely.

You remind yourself of that promise over again; making yourself relax and watch the show. The TV clicks off of the commercial break and the program begins. You find yourself begin to enjoy NXT after a moment. Suddenly Dominik and Rhea appear on the screen and your eyes are glued to them. You look closer at Dominik; looking him over as I’m he was in front of you in real life.

Your once permanent smile vanished in a instant, your eyes narrow and your fingers grip the sofa harshly. Dominik has tape on his arm meaning he’s hurting somehow. Your breathing turns shaky and millions of throughts and emotions swirl around your brain. First frightening and intense worry for at least 15 minutes, you lean back agains the couch; still not able to look away from the screen even though he isn’t on anymore. Strucken your hand reaches for your phone, your thumb hovers over the call button under his contact. The familiar tightness in the back of your throat begins, but you have to stay strong. Going against everything you click your phone off. Not even moments later a messages comes through.

Hubby 🩷

Be home in 10. See you soon my love.

Like whiplash your mood entirely switches. From 25% to 100% in the span of 30 seconds. Pissed off is the best way to put it. You are more than angry at Dominik: how could he break a promise like that?! You can sense yourself getting worked up, the doorknob rattled louder than normal, it seems. You take a deep breath; a poor attempt at calming yourself.

Dominik walks in shutting the door behind him with his charming smile, “Hey baby. Did you wait up for me?”, he asks sitting down beside you, putting his hand on your shoulder. You roll your eyes shrugging his hand off and ignoring him, acting as if the TV was more interesting. Dominik puckers his lip in confusion, his eyebrows drawn together. He tried again softer this time: more apprehension in his voice. “Hunny?” He reached to hold your hand “what’s wrong?”.

You scotch away trying to hold onto your last bit of restraint. “Nothing”, you mumble behind gritted teeth. Dominiks worry starts to worsen as you move away from him, ‘something must really be bothering you’. “Hunny whatever it is we can-“ you project your body off the couch, anger fueling your actions. “Don’t act clueless Dominik. You know exactly what this is about!” Your eyes pointed at him on the couch.

If it was possible Dominik only become more confused by the outburst. Dominik runs a hand through his hair; exhaling a heavy breath with a conflicted look. It goes silent for a moment; the couch creaks at Dominik getting up. He walks up to you; holding your arms in his hands, looking at you with expectation for explanation. Still angry you scowl at him but don’t try and move again.

“You promised” you point a accusing finger at his arm and your voice cracks when you speak again; “-you promised”. Your weak delivery tears at Dominik’s heart and his mouth falls open a little in recognition.

“Baby”

“No I don’t want to hear it”, your lip quivers and the tears break though your anger.

Dominik immediately encloses you in a tight hug, holding your head against him with his hand. You sniffle loudly; your breathing hiccuping from hyperventilation. “I- I was so scared”, in a instant you push him away again unsure how you want to feel.

“I’m so mad at you right now!”, you yell. Dominik does what he knows best. “Look at me”, he says pointing to your eyes then back to his own. “It’s okay, I’m okay” he says motioning with his hand down to show how the anger shoulder be diminishing. He does the motion one more time, making eye contact to show his understanding. Reluctant at first you shake your head no but then naturally you follow his instruction.

You close your eyes and take one more deep breath. You open your eyes to see him smiling at you patiently and softly from a distance. You nod at him and he moves forward in a quick step, holding you in his arms. “I’m sorry I scared you my love. It was very minor, I’d never want to scare you”, he kisses the top of your head, swaying your bodies. “Do you forgive me?”, he says into your hair.

You nod into his chest gripping at his shirt. Dominik is giddy that you feel better so he comforts you in every way he knows. “What do you think about a trip to Taco Bell?” He asks with a smirk knowing your answer. Your eyes gleam at the suggestion: a nice craving if yours at the moment. “Yes, yes, yes”, he laughs his sweet laugh, pulling away to press his lips to your before leaving to Taco Bell.

#dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio fluff #dom dom #dominik mysterio x you #dominik my bbg #wwe #NXT

117 notes · View notes

winterlogysblog · 16 days

Text

CRAZY THEORY INCOMING

I think my brain just glitched...

Ok so... Camelot. Arthur made Camelot through the power of Chaos right. At first, I found it weird that Arthur even needed to steal parts of Britannia to make Camelot. Chaos is incredibly powerful, it literally made three powerful deities that made their own realms for their own created races. So... why can't Arthur just make Camelot on its own. Then, it was later established that these places and people in Camelot are made through the wishes and wants of the people, without it there's nothing. If Chaos is so powerful, why is Arthur limited through that? Then it clicked.

The Sacred Tree is still alive

The Sacred Tree is essentially an embodiment of Nature. Disaster, a power granted by The Sacred Tree to the Fairy Kings is an ability that grants control over life and death.

The 'people' within Camelot function like a physical illusion. They're 'alive' but not really. They're just there, fueled by a wish. They don't even grow old, they just stay like that because that's all they are an illusion, they're not alive because there's no life.

The Demon King's power is darkness. The Supreme Diety's power is light. The Sacred Tree's power is life.

Notice how unnatural-looking the Chaos monsters are. Almost demonic even. That, to me, shows that Chaos is unstable.

The Demon King and his Commandments and The Supreme Deity and her graces are somewhat of an extension of themselves, it's their power passed to others. If we correlate this to Chaos creating the DK, SD and ST as Chaos sacrificing parts of their power, that power is lost or weakened because they have it. But the DK and SD are no longer present and since they are created by Chaos, that power most likely goes back to it. That is my assumption at least. But the graces are still out there. Ludo, Sariel, and Tarmiel died with their graces so they'll just go back after a few thousand years with their graces so that part of the SD probably didn't even go back to Chaos.

I made a post way back and on that, I compared the Commandments and Graces to Disaster as all three are just an extension of the DK, SD, and ST's power, in there I noted how Disaster is different as all three Fairy Kings can use it even if they're all present, it's not like the Commandments and Graces that only one person can use it. So that is also interesting.

There is also a complete lack of Sacred Tree information and just now, in 4kota is literally the first time we ever step foot inside the Fairy Realm and we got more Fairy Lore which is really nice. Now, what if the reason behind the lack of information about the Sacred Tree is because of Chaos. Nakaba doesn't want us to know anything about Chaos up until the very end because of 4kota, because he wants to keep Chaos a mystery.

In Chapter 140, Tioreh told us about these giant mushrooms that grow on top of the Sacred Tree's roots that are called "God Seats". The DK and SD are the only ones primarily dubbed as Gods. So that part is also interesting.

This is the Demon King's last words to Meliodas.

"You will regret this..."

In Cursed By Light, before Meliodas and Zeldris beat the Supreme Deity, she says that the only way to maintain balance in the world is by continuing the Holy War.

Before Chaos is established, this is just nonsense. But now that we know... I have a feeling that the DK and SD sealing away Chaos has more to it than what we know. Also, isn't it fun that two beings born to be in conflict with one another worked together to seal Chaos? Now, we don't get to know more because they're gone but the Sacred Tree is still around... so there's that.

I have a huge feeling that Nakaba will give us some juicy lore about the Sacred Tree in the future. Either that or I'm high on copium.

#3 am rambles #who needs sleep #I dunno if any of this makes any sense #take whatever this is with a grain of salt #try to decode my thought process lol #4kota theory #nnt theory #Chaos #Supreme Deity #Demon King #Sacred Tree #nanatsu no taizai #four knights of the apocalypse #4kota #nnt #seven deadly sins #mokushiroku no yonkishi #seven deadly sins sequel #nanatsu no taizai mokushiroku no yonkishi

47 notes · View notes

kanatajelly · 1 year

Text

general yandere headcanons - jade

jade leech - twisted wonderland

warnings: general yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, stalking, emotional manipulation, forced isolation, mental and emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of biting, mentions of kidnapping, brief mention of murder (not darling), mentions of drugging, honestly jade is his own warning

word count: 1551

what kind of yandere are they?

Jade is an obsessive yandere, through and through. He wants to know anything and everything about his darling. He’s already used to gathering information about potential contract clients for Azul, so he knows how to get what he wants in a covert way. This, of course, also makes him quite the stalker. Unless they’re very observant, his darling would probably never even notice Jade following them.

However, Jade wouldn’t stay far from his darling for very long. The stalking and information gathering is mostly his way of confirming that they’re actually interesting enough to spend time with. Once he decides that they are, he closes the distance.

Possessive is another trait that can be used to describe Jade. Although he isn’t anywhere near his brother’s level, his possessiveness is still notably intense. That being said, Jade likely wouldn’t do anything direct to get his darling’s attention focused on him. This is where his manipulative side comes in. Jade may appear polite and gentlemanly, but anyone who knows him well knows that it’s just an act that he uses to make other people lower their guards down around him. His darling is no exception to this. Again, unless his darling is very observant, they won’t notice that anything is wrong in the way Jade is acting… until it’s too late.

Finally, Jade can also be quite sadistic, though he much prefers mental torture over physical harm. There’s something he enjoys so much about seeing his darling squirm and bending them to his will.

how do they treat their darling?

Jade is nothing but polite at first. Always greeting his darling with a smile, always doing little things for them even when they don’t ask, always taking their side in a conflict… He does whatever he can to make them feel safe around him, and takes extra care not to break any of their boundaries… yet.

I think he would definitely socially isolate his darling, but in an indirect way. Instead of just taking them and locking them in a room where only he can see them, he targets others instead. Jade would use any method possible to force others to distance themselves from his darling, including threatening, blackmail, or even physical violence, if need be. He’s not picky with his methods, as long as his darling never finds out.

At the same time, Jade would always be there for his darling if they needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to rant to. He’d comfort them as best as he could, gently assuring them that it isn’t their fault that all their friends are leaving them… I mean, he’s not lying. It is his fault after all, though, his darling doesn’t need to know that. Jade’s end goal is to make his darling emotionally dependent on him. Once they’ve lost all their friends and acquaintances, who can they come to for support but him?

Once he has his darling where he wants them to be, Jade is not afraid to be a little more open about his obsessive tendencies. He would purposefully say something about them that he wasn’t supposed to know, or stand a little too close to them when they’re talking to someone else. If they confront him about it, he denies their accusations with a knowing smile, secretly enjoying their confused and/or upset expressions.

Overall, Jade is not very touchy with his darling, but he is quite fond of marking them, especially with his teeth. Seeing his darling with a mark that he made on their body fuels his possessive side in the best way possible. After all, there’s not many people who can leave those kinds of teeth marks on someone…

In terms of kidnapping, I think Jade is unlikely to do it. If his emotional manipulation and indirect social isolation works to keep his darling with him, then there’s no need to kidnap them, is there? Of course, if his other methods don’t end up working out, Jade is not beneath kidnapping. But it’s his last resort.

Speaking of things not working out, another thing Jade would do to his darling if they were being too defiant is drugging them. He’s good at potionology, and his knowledge of mushrooms and other hallucinogenic plants is vast. Also, he’d probably regularly offer to make his darling tea or other foods/drinks, and it’d be fairly easy to slip some sleeping drug or a hallucination-inducing mushroom in there. In the case that his darling refuses to accept any edible or drinkable items from him, then Jade is not past using the classic syringe stab or chloroform cloth methods.

what kind of person would they obsess over?

Honestly, like his brother, I feel like Jade can become obsessed with almost anyone, as long as they have something that piques and keeps his interest. Like I mentioned before, he thoroughly does his research before attempting to get close to his darling, so if he wasn’t interested, he’d stop before they even knew he was doing anything.

That being said, I think Jade would like someone who’s passionate about something they love. They don’t need to share one of his interests (although that would be nice), it’s just enough that they have something that they could talk about for hours if given the opportunity. It can be anything. As long as he likes someone, Jade is willing to listen to anything and everything they rant about. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, he will pay attention to their entire rant.

I also think that someone who isn’t what they seem to be on the outside would attract Jade’s attention more easily. If his darling acts differently in front of strangers than they do in front of close friends, for example, Jade would become invested in getting them to lower their mask and be their true self around him. Jade wants to see all the parts of his darling, including the ugly ones that they try to hide from others. The more hidden parts they have, the more fun it is for him to pick at their layers and barriers until they’re completely vulnerable around him.

are they aware of their actions? how dangerous are they?

Jade is a very, very lucid yandere. He’s fully aware that what he’s doing is unhealthy and wrong, but he has absolutely no remorse or shame. That is exactly what makes him dangerous: he has no inhibitions, especially in the later stages of his relationship. He is simply fueled by interest… and a desire to make his darling belong to him.

This may already be obvious, but the thing that contributes the most to his dangerousness is how good at manipulation he is. Even if his darling is an especially guarded, wary, and/or observant person, all it takes for him to break them down mentally and emotionally is for him to know of one of their weaknesses. If he finds even the smallest hole in their defenses, he’ll find some way to worm inside. Just wait for it.

However, even though he isn’t beneath playing mind games with his darling, I don’t see Jade being very likely to physically harm them (aside from biting them, but that’s a different matter). Even towards others who interfere with his goals, physical violence, and by extension murder, are more of a last resort than anything. Jade much prefers psychological warfare to physical altercations.

But even with that said, Jade is still quite dangerous. Sometimes mental wounds are much more painful than physical wounds, after all.

what is their most dangerous trait? how far would they have to be pushed to bring it out?

I can see Jade being absolutely terrifying when he gets mad. He has a hell of a lot of patience, even in dealing with difficult people like Floyd, so it’s not easy at all to make him genuinely angry. But when he is… dear god.

Remember how I said that he’s unlikely to use physical violence as a first option? When he’s angered, that’s thrown out of the window, along with his gentlemanly persona. An angry Jade is a physically violent Jade. Thankfully, there’s not much of a danger of that happening often, thanks to his overflowing amounts of patience and his relatively mild demeanour. His darling would have to push him really far to make him snap. And if they ever do, they probably wouldn’t do it again, unless they’re really stupid.

Unlike a lot of yandere characters, who reach their boiling point if their darling escapes from them, that wouldn’t be what sets Jade off. He sees escape attempts as a chase, and he’s confident in his ability to get his darling back at some point.

Maybe Jade would be brought to his breaking point if his darling were to ever ask someone like Floyd or Azul to help them get away from him. Although I can’t see either of those two agreeing to help them considering how close they are to Jade, there is still a possibility. If that ever happened, the amusement Jade usually derives from chasing his darling down would quickly dissolve into a bitter feeling of having been betrayed, which would eventually turn to anger.

Don’t make Jade mad. You’ll regret it.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #kanata-writings

211 notes · View notes