#and limbo is even more of a hell for him without her

[handonhaven]

“So for [Landon], I think he gets everything he wanted, except Hope.”

—Brett Matthews

#legaciesedit #legacies #handon #handonedit #hope mikaelson #landon kirby #landonkirbyedit #s4 #4x17 #4x20 #4x16 #legacies gifs #quotes #my edit #my gifs #anti brett matthews #still not over brett saying what he did... #sure landon got everything he wanted except hope #even though being with hope was everything he wanted #and limbo is even more of a hell for him without her #yet brett really tried to tell us landon got what he wanted and a 'home' #when he got the exact opposite and got hell instead

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER ONE - school, life, and a punch to the face TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC) MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

If hell is real, you’re pretty sure you’re dead.  

Time drags on; seconds feeling more like hours and hours feeling like an eternity—punctuated only by the shriek of the occasional bell.  It’s a familiar limbo you’ve grown to tune out in favor of your daydreaming, interrupted only by the end of a period or the sound of your name being called from across the room.  Your pencil taps idly against the desk with the beat of your heel against the floor.  Untied shoelaces pull taught under your feet when you shift to lean forwards, squinting at the equations scribbled across the whiteboard by a wrinkled, dark hand.  Numbers and letters swirl together.

Mrs. Hall.  An elderly, frail, equally as tired woman—worn down by decades of bullshit brought on by stubborn, unmotivated students much like the kids behind you, whispering and snickering in a way that made your eye twitch with deep irritation.  Still, you’re not much better, your mind lost in thought staring at rain that pounds against the ground of upstate Texas until the sound of your name stirs you from the depths of your own brain.  When you look up, confused, Mrs. Hall stares back at you with an expecting stare—and a few students are turned around to stare at you.

You’re also pretty sure if hell is real—it's the American Public School System.

“Uh…”

“The three X’s in number five,”  Mrs. Hall taps the equation on the board with the marker.  “On the homework.”

“Right.  Sorry,”  your tired eyes flicker down to the chicken scratch on the paper in front of you, scanning the crumpled paper for the answer you hastily scribbled down earlier that day.  “Three, square root of two, and negative one?”

“Incorrect.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, scratching at your neck as you try and fail not to notice when one of the boys behind you stops whispering mid-sentence and stares daggers into the back of your neck.  Shit.  Fuck.

That’s the last time you do someone else’s algebra homework.  Math, in all its forms, was your academic Achilles heel.

The rest of fourth period escapes you.  After what feels like a lifetime and a half of talking and scribbling on your paper, the bell rings out across the classroom.  Like Pavlov’s dogs—the students instinctually rush to life—shoving chairs and throwing backpacks over their shoulders, eager to get on with the day.

You're quick to sweep your things into your backpack and high-tail it towards the door of the classroom before a certain boy behind you can notice you've left already.

Mrs. Hall says your first name again.  You stop in your tracks, not missing how your fellow student sends you an angry look as he strides past to leave—crumpling the homework you did for him the night before to add to the effect.  He must be telepathic, because you swear you can hear his voice without him even saying anything.

"You're dead."

Your feet shuffle towards the door, "can't talk, gonna be late—"

"I'll write you a pass."

"I have lunch next, though."

"No you don't."  Mrs. Hall scoffs, shooting you an unamused look from over her rectangular glasses.  "You think I don't know your schedule by now?"

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the next,  "worth a try."

"Sit,"  she gestures beside her.

You hesitate, almost arguing further, but you sigh instead.  Getting lectured actually sounded much better than whatever hell waited for you out in the hallway the second you walked outside.  You let your backpack fall from your shoulders as you drag it over with you to collapse into the chair beside your teacher's desk.  Your eyes flicker up to where her frail hands card through some papers.  

"You graduate in two months, dear."  She reminds you, as if you haven't been scratching the tallied days into a spare notebook like you're on death row.  "Your test scores are average but all the homework seems to be…lacking.  If you even do it at all."

Average.  A word that's been thrown around a lot regarding your name, which you intended to stick with.  Average meant nobody would stick their nose in your business—that you could blend in with the crowd and avoid any and all weird glances and low whispers.  You made the mistake of showing off once, to snap back at your dickhead classmate; only to end up doing his bidding for the rest of the semester.

You figure Mrs. Hall won't take very well to being told that the reason you aren't completing your homework is because you're too busy doing Ben Davis's under the threat that he won't smash your face against the lockers again.  Broken noses are a special level of hell, but it still isn't as low as the torture that is highschool.

"Maybe I joined some sports,"  you quip sarcastically.  "Don't have as much time as I used to."

She only deadpans at you.

You stare innocently back at her.  If you play dumb enough, maybe she'll finally give up.

"I'm not attacking you.  Just worried.  If you need some extra time because—"  she lowers her voice and the bracelets around her tiny wrist jingle as she waves it about,  "---because of your family life, or anything…I'm willing to give it to you."

Your brow lowers, annoyance beginning to nip at your nerves as you sit up a little straighter.

Pity.  You've long grown tired of it.  You weren't some fragile orphan—no.  You were an adult who, in two months, would finally be free from the clutches of your frustrated social worker and the slew of whatever excited, naive couples the system dumped you on.  People have been tip-toeing around you your whole life, and it never fails to make your fists clench.

"My grades are average, you said,"  you say, stern—poking the score on one of your tests with a pointer finger.  "I don't need help."

"I don't doubt you don't need help, sweetheart.  But you're a smart kid.  Really smart, if you put the effort in.  I'm just saying if you ever need any extra—"

"I'm fine.  If you really wanna help, you won't make me late to my next class."

Mrs. Hall seems to freeze, stunned at the bite her otherwise quiet student seems to bear.  The clock ticks above your head, the rain pitters against the window outside and, for a moment, shame floods your senses; but it fades as the seconds pass and that concerned look on her face deepens.

You're the first to look away, picking up your pack and turning for the door.  "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Hall."

"Wait."

You stop, tossing your head back with a sigh.  "What?"

"Tie your shoes, sweetheart,"  she says, her voice kind as she turns away to tap your stack of tests on the desk.  "You'll trip walking around like that."

You only frown and duck out the door.

The rest of the school day passes in a familiar haze.  You space out throughout two of your classes, goof off for the rest, and get your shit handed to you the second school is out.  Ben takes the time to lecture you as well after he levels you in one punch—and you sit rubbing your jaw, bored, as he goes on and on about how you did that shit on purpose and next time, you're fucking dead.

He needed a perfect score to pass the class.  In a low moment of pain, you promised it to him despite the fact that your algebra skills had much to be desired.  Still, with a little bit of extra effort—you managed to make it through most of the second semester without a black eye.  

You're the one that always bleeds; but a part of you finds it funny how he always finds a way to talk himself into angry tears, storming off somewhere distant while kids scramble to get out of his way to avoid the same fate as you.

And, as always, you pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your face onto the sleeve of your jacket—and walk away.

Because that's all you can do.

The rain settles deep in your clothes as you make your way home, music loud in your earbuds.  It's silent and gray, as it has been all week, and your thoughts are mere static as you drag your feet back to your front doorstep.  Your bed is calling for you after such a shitty day and the bruise forming on your left eye is just making the blankets seem all the more welcoming.

You barely notice how your door is already unlocked when you enter.

Inside, the house is just as silent and empty as the rest of your street.  Rain drips to the floor in a steady rhythm as you pad across the living room of the house, dropping your backpack to the floor.  Muscle memory leads you to the bathroom—where things are, as usual, spotless.  

You've seen plenty of bad homes and residencies during your time in the system.  Most of them blurred together in a long string of things you wished to forget; either by the caretakers' fault or your own.  This house, though, was high on your list of favorites.  Your folks were never around, and if they were, they were asleep.  When you weren't working; you usually had the house to yourself.

"Fuck,"  You breathe, prodding at the swelling flesh around your eye. You run some water over it and the irritation dulls slightly as dried blood turns the water pink.  Excuses run rampant through your mind as you scramble for a way to explain the injury---because you're pretty sure they won't believe you if you said you tripped again. 

That's when you catch movement from your doorway.  Shuffling.

You whip around just as the movement disappears, and suddenly the quiet house turns eerily silent.  Your eyes lock on the doorway as the sink continues to run and water continues to drip from your clothes.  

Nothing.

You turn the sink off.

Your brow furrows, eyes locked on the cracked door of your bathroom as your hand grabs hold of the first weapon you can get your hands on—a shower curtain rod.  One foot after the other, you peak around the corner.

Again, nothing.

Out of some itch of paranoia—or just completely on coincidence—you happen to turn your head to the wall next to you.  Instead of an empty corridor like you expected, you're met with a face.

A face that immediately lunges at you the second your eyes widen.  

You stumble to the side with a yell just for the individual to grab your arm, and the curtain rod falls to the floor with a clatter.  You struggle as he yanks you to the side and around the corner and, before you have the chance to react, cold metal is pressed to your back.

"Don't fuckin' move,"  a voice hisses in your ear, and you stiffen.

You wheeze, struggling against his hold, "who–"

"Your gardian fucking angel,"  he sneers, shifting to clap a hand over your mouth.  You thrash again—but it's useless.  The gun presses painfully into your side.  "I said don't move."

A thump echoes through the room, and suddenly you see why.

You fight to keep your breathing under control as you stay firm against your captor's geared chest, still as a statue.  Your heart slams against your ribs and your ears as you listen to each heavy footstep against the floor, and your eyes widen whenever a second soldier creeps down your hallway.  Standard camo and green clothes shuffling as he walks.

You catch the long muzzle of a rifle over the soldier's shoulder, and suddenly you find yourself leaning into the gun pressed into your back.  The hand on your mouth tightens, silently shifting you away from the door.

The shifting of gear and the click of the rifle echo in the silent house as your nails dig into the skin of your captor's wrist.  You watch a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitch near your face as the sound of your first name echoes through the hall, sing-song and taunting.         

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Think.  Think.  Think.

“If y’know what’s best for ya’…”  A thick Scottish accent taunts from down the hall as he nudges the curtain rod with his foot, causing it to scrape against the wood floors.  “You’ll quit puttin’ up a fight and show yourself.”

You glance over to meet your captor’s gaze.  A flicker of anger crosses his eyes, nose wrinkling into a scowl.  He has a scar across his cheek.  

Then, suddenly, he shifts, pulling you further away from the doorway.  His grip on your shoulder is deathly tight as it digs into your clothes.  He lifts his finger from the trigger of his gun only to bring it to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet, stay with me.

Panic burns bright and all-encompassing through your veins.  For whatever reason—all your body will let you do is shake and listen. 

He ducks around the corner, pulling you with him.  You have to force your feet to move.

The Scottish soldier stops just at the end of the hall, hulking frame and what must be at least thirty pounds of gear making him a jarring sight against the flowered wallpaper of your foster home.  He must have an earpiece of some kind; because you hear him whisper every so often as he sweeps the hallways.  

"They're here,"  he mutters.  "Little fuck's just good at hiding."

It's tiny and muffled, but in the deathly silence of the house you can make out two voices in his earpiece that reply to him.  One female, the other male.  You can't decipher what they say but their responses make him growl in frustration.

"C'mon, we don't got all day…"

Tense, your captor shoves you along to another room.  He signals something down the hall, where you spot more movement in the house.  More soldiers—these ones dressed in similar, dark garb to the man who still presses a gun to your side. They have bigger weapons, concealing helmets.

Startled, you trip over your shoelaces.

Your captor scrambles to grab you before you clatter to the floor.  He curses just as the Scottish soldier whips around, gun pointed and ready.

There's a solid two seconds of complete silence.  Your gaze meets with the Scott and his eyes widen.  Then, he spots the other man with a gun pointed at you.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

You scramble to your feet and bolt.  The Scott is the first to grab you, and he's met with teeth deep in his arm.  He yells out as you kick free, gagging on the metallic substance that floods your mouth.

There's shouting.  Movement.  Gunfire lights up your house with noise and lights as you wipe your mouth, stumble, and fly down the stairs in a blind dash for your front door.

Instead, you run directly into something solid—Landing you flat on your ass.  Again.

Panting, panicking, your eyes rake up dark figure; past two giant boots, a geared chest, and hands that clench a rifle in their grip to meet a masked face and bored eyes.  You scramble backwards against the wall with a yelp.  The sound of yelling, gunfire, and heavy footsteps flood the rest of the house as the masked man's eyes widen at you.  You stare at each other; you, sizing him up and him, confused.

"Graves?!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Commander!  We lost the kid!"

"Does anyone have a visual??"

"L.T.!"

The skull-faced man finally leaps into action at the sound of what must be his rank—because he's suddenly moving faster than you can realize more soldiers are flooding around the corner.  In a flurry of practiced movement, he grabs them.

You yell out as he knees one of the men and shoots the other.  Blood splatters across the walls and your clothes.  Then, he fires twice more at the soldier unconscious on the ground—and the house goes quiet other than your pounding heartbeat.

The towering man before you shifts, and the floorboards creak under his feet.  He rolls his shoulders and let's out a breath as he stands, slowly, up to his full height.  He turns, and the same blood that splatters across the walls runs in tiny rivulets across the skull of his mask.  His voice thick and low when he speaks.

"You broken?"

Your shaking hands lower from your ears as your eyes then rake across the corpses at his feet, but it's no use.  Through the ringing in your ears, your racing mind is unable to put together what he says for a few minutes.  It's even more impossible to tear your eyes away from the blood splattered against the patterned wallpaper.

You swallow and shake your head.

"Good."  Nonchalant, he lowers his gun and shouts down the hall.

"Johnny, you with me?"

"Over here, L.T.,"  grunts the Scottish voice from down the hall.  "That little shit Graves—"

"Let 'em go.  We'll deal with 'em later.  We got what we needed."

Johnny curses in response, but mutters a begrudging "copy" as he saunters over—nursing the clear bite mark in his arm. 

Then, the Lieutenant's eyes shift in your direction.  His hand twitches, almost reaching out to you, and you pull your legs closer to your chest against the wall.  Blood soaks your untied laces.  You clamp a hand over your mouth as you will your breathing to settle.  It doesn't.

He freezes.  Then, to your relief, he turns away and presses a finger to his ear.

"Bravo 0-7 to Actual; five shadows have been compromised on the property.  Looks like the Shadows got the word the same time we did.  Could be others, too.  Things got bloody, but…"  The lieutenant's eyes meet yours again as he speaks.  Through the bloodied skull mask, his gaze holds a calm resolve that's probably supposed to be comforting, but it only makes your skin prickle.  

"...we got the kid."

It's quiet, but you can hear static before someone speaks on the other end of the communication device.

"Copy that, Bravo.  We'll clean up the mess,"  A female voice replies.  "Bring 'em home safe, boys."

"Roger that."

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 15, Undermined - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of SA, discussions of sexual situations.

Word Count: 1k

Previously On...: You went through Bucky's text history with Jade. It was... illuminating, but also soul-crushing. You're not sure how you're going to get past this.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the engagement you've been giving the story! It means so much to me to see everyone so invested! I love you all! Some of ya'lls theories are WILD, and I love them! Keep 'em coming! And if you've sent me a speculation or comment and I haven't replied, it only means that I can't respond without giving away too much information about what's to come, so I feel it's best for me to keep my trap shut; not that I don't appreciate and love you!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1 @les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

The next several weeks passed by quietly. Or, rather, as quietly as living in a towerful of superheroes could be expected to be. You and Bucky danced around each other in a strange sort of limbo since you had officially broken up–almost two months ago, now– no longer lovers, yet not quite just friends. It was difficult. It was painful. He would say something, or give you that look, and you’d be so tempted to melt into his arms. Hell, or rip off his fucking clothes. But you’d remember everything that had happened, the way your life had been completely unended in the span of an evening, and the urges would vanish like smoke in the wind, and the walls would return around your heart.

You’d wanted to ask Steve about what Bucky had said– about getting erections when he sparred, but he was still ignoring you, not wanting to engage with you in any form of conversation that didn’t directly concern Avenger work. It was beyond frustrating, the length his cold shoulder had gone on for, but you couldn’t force him to engage with you.

There was, however, one person you could ask, though you were fairly confident Bucky would be furious at you for doing so. Oh well, you thought. If he didn’t want you asking questions about it, he should have never given you reason to question the things he told you in the first place.

“Hey, Sammy,” you said, cornering your friend in the training room after he finished a run on the treadmill. 

“‘Sup, Baby Girl?” Sam wiped his brow with the hem of his shirt. “Come to watch Ole Sammy get all sweaty?”

“Ew, gross,” you shoved him playfully. “Not even a little bit. I have a question for you, though.” You handed him his water bottle, and he took it from you gratefully, chugging down a few swigs before looking back to you.

“Shoot,” he said. “I got all the answers.”

You chewed thoughtfully on your bottom lip, wondering how exactly you were going to word your inquiry. “You ever spar with Bucky?”

Sam slowly lowered his water bottle and eyed you suspiciously. “Why?” he asked you slowly.

“It’s a simple question, Sam,” you responded as you crossed your arms over your chest. “Have you sparred with him, or not?”

Sam narrowed his eyes, as though trying to determine whether or not you were luring him into some kind of trap. “I have,” he drawed out.

You raised a brow. “Anything… weird ever happen to Bucky when he really lets himself get invested in a fight?” you asked. “Anything… unusual?”

“So, he finally told you about that, huh?” Sam asked, mirroring your stance. 

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific, Sam.” You put all of your weight onto one foot. 

“Well, either you know, or you don’t,” Sam argued. “It’s not my secret to tell you.”

You were growing frustrated at his reticence to give you the information you were looking for. “Come on, Sam. Let’s just say Bucky told me about something that occasionally happens to him when he fights, but I don’t know if I can believe him or not. I’d ask Steve, but he’s not speaking to me at the moment, so you’re my only way of confirming if what he told me is true or not. I need you to be straight with me. Please.”

Sam studied you, his expression unreadable. “What the hell happened between the two of you, Pocket?”

“Nothing I want to talk about right now, Sam,” you told him, your impatience beginning to show. “Are you going to tell me what I need to know, or not?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam said, finally giving in. “Alright. So, sometimes, when Tin Man really gets into the heat of it, he gets…” Sam coughed, clearly uncomfortable with the line of conversation, “excited.”

“Excited.” You rolled the word around in your mouth. “More specific, Sam.”

Sam rubbed his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Baby Girl. You gonna make me spell it out?” You nodded, eager for him to get on with it.

Sam’s eyes rolled heavenward, as though he were praying for the Lord to give him the strength to deal with you. “Sometimes he gets a fucking boner when he fights, alright? You happy now?”

You should be. You really should be. It meant there was one thing, at least, he’d been honest with you about. But it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Did he tell you why?” you asked, instead.

“You’re just asking me to break all kinds of confidences today, ain’t ya, Baby Girl?” You gave him a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” Sam finally relented. “It was awkward as hell, the first time I noticed it happen, but Barnes said it was a left over from the shit Hydra did to him when they were programming him to be the Winter Soldier. They wanted to make him… excited by the fight, aroused by it.” Sam shook his head, disgusted by what his friend had endured. “So, they did all kindsa shit to merge the two– sex and violence, until his body couldn’t tell the difference between ‘em.”

You blinked once, twice, three times at Sam’s words. You supposed you should feel grateful– here was confirmation Bucky’d spoken the truth to you, and you were fairly sure that Sam wouldn’t have lied to your face to save Bucky’s ass. And yet… and yet. Sam, and Steve, as well, had been privy to this part of Bucky’s past that he’d felt the need to keep from you. Even that thought brought you more conflict: if it was something Bucky had shared with Sam and Steve, it made the fact he’d shared it with Jade less significant. But, the angry voice in the back of your head insisted, he’d still chosen not to share it with you. And that still stung. Your thoughts just spun in circles.

“Got anymore horrifically awkward questions for me?” Sam asked, and you realized you’d been silent a bit too long.

“No,” you said, shaking your head as though to clear your thoughts. “Uh, that was it. Thanks, Sam. I appreciate it.” You turned to leave the training room.

“I’d say ‘any time, Baby Girl,’” Sam called after you, “but that was awkward as hell and I sure as shit never want to talk about Bucky’s erections with anyone ever again!”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[nwjws]

who the hell is ni-ki ?! - FIFTEEN

; SYNOPSIS - school sucks. especially when everyone’s avoiding you like the plague - all because you’re the principal’s daughter. so it comes as a surprise when a strip of paper falls out of your locker one day, with a corny pick up line written on it. now you only have one question on your mind: who the hell is nishimura riki?

FIFTEEN ...let me hold them for you 🫶 (2.1k words + smau)

"one more! one more!" danielle cheered as you aimed another dart at a balloon pinned on the board.

you held your breath as you watched the dart fly through the air, spinning as it zoomed closer and closer to what would hopefully be your fifth balloon popped this round.

the game, named 'pop the balloon', was what you were currently playing at the gyeoul carnival. the idea was that if you had five darts, and you had to hit a balloon with each one. unless you missed, you would then be rewarded with a prize of your choice - like a box of chocolates or small plushies.

minji, hanni, and danielle burst into cheers and jumped as they hugged you when your final dart popped the last balloon. you had won the game, and now you could choose a prize.

"take that box of chocolate," minji pointed at one of the options. "i really want the fererro rocher."

"am i choosing, or are you?" you arched an eyebrow at her.

"i'm just giving advice," she shrugged.

"that doesn't sound like good advice," hanni nudged her. "choose what you want, y/n."

"okay," and you reached for a plush duck hanging at the stall, much to minji's disappointment.

"you can play and get that box yourself," you laughed at her exaggerated pout.

"i'll never hit five balloons - did you see how far apart they are?"

"that sounds like a you problem," danielle says, taking the toy from your hands and playing with it.

"it's so cute," you say.

"talking about me, i hope?"

you four turn to the voice, finding riki grinning at you. you'd recognise his deep voice anywhere.

"you are the furthest thing from cute," danielle rolls her eyes.

"y/n seems to think otherwise!" hanni teases, causing you to glare at her.

"hi riki! have you played any of the games yet?"

"nope," he said, popping the 'p'. "jungwon let me go from volunteer work just now - not that i even volunteered in the first place." you noticed the cute scrunch of his nose as he talked, and found it endearing.

"perks of being friends with the student president!" you chuckle.

"you're right, i got to be incredibly rude to the customers, and had every right to be. you should've heard him sighing every other minute, but he couldn't say anything."

"you're so mean," minji says.

"i'm still not listening to you," he turns away from her.

"aw, let me go cry about it in a corner real quick," she mocks him.

"i'd prefer if you took your time, actually."

"okay, let's go play tug-of-war!" you interject before they could get into another row.

"that requires five people on one team, though," hanni tells you.

"he can join then," you suggest, pointing your thumb back at riki. "are you okay with that?"

"better than working at the limbo stand with sunghoon," he shrugs.

the five of you play five rounds of tug-of-war, going against different teams each time. you have to admit, without riki, you and your friends would have never won a single round. his help had let you guys win every one.

"my hands are so tired and sore," minji complained, showing you her hands. they had red marks from the rope, similar to you and the others.

danielle and hanni joined you two in comparing your palms, holding them out in the middle of your little circle. riki came and held out his own palms too.

"woah, riki's hands are way more red," hanni gawked.

"to be fair, he did carry our team," you say. "you really put your all into it, huh?"

"it's all or nothing," he smiled.

he looked down at your hands and took one by the wrist. you watched curiously as he pressed your palms together, holding your hands up in the air.

"my hands are way bigger than yours," he remarks.

"maybe that's why your grip on the rope was better," you wonder, skin tingling where it met his. "my fingers look tiny next to yours."

"they do!" he laughs, eyes wide at the large difference in sizes.

then he shifted his hand so your fingers were no longer aligned, and grinned cheekily as he intertwined your hands. your hands fit perfectly, as if the gaps between your fingers were meant for his.

your eyes widen in surprise and you have to look away to hide the heat rushing to your face, only to be faced with your friends' smirks.

"getting bold, nishimura," hanni comments.

he just laughs as he swings your hands between you two, holding onto them.

hanni and minji decided to go and get face paint, while danielle went to go get some food, since she'd begun to get hungry after all those games. you and riki went and played more of the activities, making up for the time he'd missed serving at the limbo stand jungwon forced him to work at.

you walked over to the three-legged race game, getting in line as riki went to the toilet.

“make sure you have a partner!” a student you recognised as leehan stationed at the activity was shouting to everyone in line. “otherwise we’ll pair you up with someone random!”

you noticed a few nervous glances sent your way, worried that they’d be paired with you, seeing you were alone. you sighed in familiar disappointment.

“hello,” the student at the desk greeted you when you were up front. it was eunchae. “where’s your partner?” she asked, not needing to ask for your name.

“oh, he’s not here yet.”

“if he doesn’t come soon, we’ll have to pair you up with someone else,” she frowned. you could hear the line behind you going quiet, holding their breaths.

“is there anyone else who’s alone?” eunchae yelled, leaning to look at the others behind you.

you looked to see everyone turn away, avoiding eye contact. they didn’t want to be paired with the principal’s daughter. you weren’t planning on playing with anyone other than riki in the first place, but your heart still sank when people didn’t even try to hide their dislike for you.

“i’m sorry, y/n. if no one goes with you, you can’t play.”

“i’m going with her.”

you released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding when you heard riki’s voice.

“nishimura riki?” eunchae said in surprise, but started writing his name next to yours nonetheless.

leehan handed you two a fabric cloth, which you had to use to tie two of your legs together.

you guys hopped around, testing out your new third leg. however, you stepped a little too far at one point, and your leg binded to riki’s had you falling over.

“woah!” he exclaimed and grabbed for your upper arm. “careful.”

“thanks,” you tell him. he had saved you from planting straight into the ground.

“better hold on,” he says, wrapping your arm around his own. you guys limp your way to the starting line, and wait for the race to start.

when leehan yelled ‘go!’, you and riki started running, or more like staggering forward.

“okay, we need to do have a strategy,” you giggle. “tied leg first, then ours.”

you both chanted that to yourselves, laughing and trying not to trip over. soon you got used to it, and your speed picked up, slowly overtaking the other pairs running.

as you guys went, you felt too aware of riki’s arm wrapped around your waist. he hugged you close as you both (attempted) to run, while you held onto his shoulder for support. you kept your head down, watching your steps, trying to hide the furious blush that was no doubt on your face.

riki’s laugh echoed through your ears as you two made your way to the finish line, the last pair to finish the race.

“we’re terrible,” he shook with laughter.

“it was because of you,” you teased, poking his stomach.

“nuh-uh! you were definitely too slow.” he poked you back, and realised you were ticklish when you involuntarily jerked and started giggling.

he started chasing you as you ran way to try and avoid his tickles, cackling behind you as you sprinted for your life.

“hey!” you yelled when he caught your wrist, and you tripped onto the ground, causing him to topple over with you.

you giggled uncontrollably as he poked your sides; you didn’t even realise you were this ticklish. your own laughter died down as he slowly came to a stop, finally letting you breathe in some air.

the air was knocked out of you again though, when you realised how close your faces were.

his eyes sparkled as you saw your reflection in them, so close you could count his eyelashes. the moles on his face really were pretty, and his soft lips gaping open at you squeezed your heart.

“sorry,” he says climbing off of you, and you sit up on the grass of the field.

looking around, you see some people giving you curious looks, some very obviously trying not to stare.

“um,” is your intelligent response. “thanks, by the way. for earlier.”

“for what?” he tilted his head, confused.

“when you kept me from falling. i should also thank you for saving me embarrassment when you came at the right moment.”

“no worries, i should’ve came earlier. those people were treating you like a you were an alien.”

“ugh, i know,” you groan, lying back onto the ground. “they were scared of being paired up with the principal’s daughter, or something. they always are.”

“scared of you?”

“yeah,” you huff. “ever since i came, people never tried talking to me after finding out my dad was the new principal.”

“really? your dad isn’t even that scary.”

“you were literally scared he didn’t approve of you being my friend,” you remind him.

“right, well,” he chuckles awkwardly. “but he’s pretty nice, actually. i just thought he would go all protective over you.”

“maybe that’s why no one talks to me. was it like this with the last principal’s kid?”

“no, she didn’t have any kids at school. they were all at college.”

“oh.”

“you look exhausted.”

“i am.”

“tell me about it.”

and then you did. you told him about how tired you were of being seen only as ‘the principal’s daughter’, like some kind of character. how everyone’s too intimidated by you to even look your way, and how that’s stopped you from being able to make friends.

everyone had isolated you, making you out to be something to gawk at, and not touch. you wished people thought of you as more than your father’s daughter - as an actual person.

and riki listened. he listened attentively, like he promised. he nodded and stared at you unblinkingly, as if he was afraid that if he closed his eyes for just a moment, you’d disappear.

you had told all this to your friends before - it’s come up in several conversations. but when it was riki you were talking to, you felt free. you felt like he understood you on a deeper level than your friends. maybe he did.

“you get me, don’t you?”

his eyes widened when you directed your question at him.

“well- yeah… i guess. but i want to talk about you, or more like hear your voice.”

“thank you, riki. i’ve never felt more heard than now.”

you could tell he felt the same.

after getting to know him, you realised that everyone often saw him as a character too. he was regarded as the one that broke the rules, and did whatever he liked. no one really cared or wondered if he himself was okay, all they saw was another exhibit to point at.

you wondered if everyone was like this - if everyone you saw was really more of a character than who they really were. was there anyone out there who was actually seen for who they were? or do we all stereotype everyone into a character before we even really know them?

right then, you decided you wanted to break out of the mould the school had created for you. and after befriending riki, you knew exactly how.

“i have an idea.”

“uh oh,” he responded, but a smile tugged at his lips. “you’re planning something.”

“i am. i think i don’t want to be this ‘innocent’ and ‘clean’ person anymore. are you in with me?”

“what if i’m not? what if i want to be the ‘innocent’ and ‘clean’ person this time?”

“then i won’t involve you.”

you smiled at him, and he smiled back at you.

— FOURTEEN ; MASTERLIST ; SIXTEEN

; AUTHOR’S CORNER ! posting earlier in the day bc guess who just passed driving school and got her DRIVER'S LICENSEEEE also sorry this ended up quite long and a little philosophical at the end LOL

; TAGLIST - @riziwon @gweoriz @yenqa @miyseung @beomgyusonlywife @luvlee1313 @wildflowermooon @pookikisses @j-wyoung @n0t-kc @chiiiiiiiiis @ghostiiess @mrchweeee @jjongshrts @luvistqrzzz @lilriswife4life @aikoluvssyouu @cholexc @bahngchatsfx @teddywonss @woniewonn @artstaeh @thesassy-mia @moaqong @itsactuallylina @armydrcamers @mowagyu @yumilovesloona @ibsysbsfsunsbs @ashy1um @ahnneyong @jakelux @jaeminri @sweet-kisses-and-bloody-screams @ririlovesrenjun @sloobydooburmomjungwon @kyanmeai @lazy-miya @bbybearcubbs @hwasfavgf @girlhees @seungified @softieluvsyou @flwoie @y0iy0i @microwvdstrawb3rri3s send an ask or comment on the masterlist to be added .

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ mi's works #kflixnet #k-labels #k-films #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen niki #enhypen nishimura riki #nishimura riki #riki x reader #niki x reader #niki smau #riki smau #enhypen smau #niki fluff #riki fluff #riki fics #niki fics #ੈ♡˳ who the hell is ni ki ?! #ੈ♡˳ wthnk ?!

[yeonboy]

𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞 ♡ choi yeonjun. ⇝ teaser

For the past two years, you have been an ordinary—if a bit more stressed than others—college student with a life so normal, it almost falls on the wrong side of boring. And then in the middle of one uneventful night, your college’s darling ace student, ace sportsman, the ace cutie that every girl has a crush on, Choi Yeonjun decides to slip into your dorm room – and your life turns upside down.

❧ choi yeonjun x f. reader | 16+ | college!au ♡ strangers to lovers!au ♡ humor ♡ fluff

❧ words! 1 k for the teaser [~8 k for the entire fic]

❧ warnings! profanity, suggestive language, exams related anxiety, incorrect econ major related discord + and more in the actual fic (:

❧ note! hey, everyone! tho i'm not a fan of teasers without a concrete posting date, i needed to put sth out there for the sake of my brain :// mental health's been on a rollercoaster and writer's block been heavy this spring! i hope y'all enjoy this lil cracked up (and a lil concerning) bite of fluff and anticipate the actual fic!

❧ masterlist | inbox ⁘

Sighing again, you blindly move your hand towards the light switch in the room – only for a hand to wrap around your wrist. 

Wha—

Heart stopping and brain freezing in bone-chilling fear, you unhinge your jaw to let out a scream. But not even a whole second later, a palm is placed over your parted lips and a body pushes you to the wall next to the light switch with an urgent hush whispered in your ear.

“Please don’t scream, I’m not gonna harm you, I just need your help!”

The stranger sounds and feels like a male. 

What the hell is a strange man doing in your very all-girls dorm?

You wanna scream louder, something that this stranger senses because he suddenly presses his body tighter against you, this time dipping his face into the crook of your neck, lips against the shell of your ear when he shushes you.

Okay, now why did that cover your entire body with goosebumps? Of the good kind?

“I’m not a creep I swear, I was just escaping an embarrassing situation and this room was unlocked so I slipped in, please let me explain!”

You try to calm yourself down, taking a deep breath which immediately lets you know that this not a creep actually smells really heavenly. You kinda wanna sniff him again, but catch yourself at the last moment.

Leaning your head farther away to press it against the wall, you narrow your eyes at the short-haired silhouette of the guy that is lit up at the edges due to the light entering the room from the window directly behind him. The hand which held your wrist moves, then, and flicks the light switch.

You immediately squeeze your eyes shut due to the blast of photons across the room, and the stranger slowly steps away from you, very tenderly letting go of your mouth – which had honestly started to hurt a little – at the end. Massaging the side of your jaw, you slowly open one of your lids, and then the other.

Then you blink. And blink again. And nearly have an aneurysm because damn does the campus It-Boy look even hotter up close.

Choi Yeonjun stands before you in his pale orange hair glory, wearing a fitted off-sleeves, off-white sweater. And, shit, are those pearls around his neck? Yes. Yes, they are.

While you’re still hovering in the limbo between shock and awe, the guy launches into a rushed and stuttered explanation.

“Th–thanks for not screaming. I’m… Ugh, I don’t even know where to begin, but like – I – I was trying to surprise my girlfriend who lives in this very dorm, a floor above—you know, where all popular seniors live—and, um, just as I reacher her door I heard sounds of the…sexual nature…echoing inside, so – so I investigated and guess what? My girlfriend is fucking my best friend behind my back!”

Your jaw drops open. “I… what the hell, man?” you whisper, stunned and disgusted. “That’s so awful…”

“Right? And embarrassing.” He shakes his head. Then his eyebrows suddenly fly up. “Oh! I am Choi—”

“Yeonjun, the uni’s ace Senior. I know. Everyone does.”

A faint blush rises up his cheeks, lips pursing as he shrugs one bare shoulder. Okay, damn, his biceps have got some good definition. “Yeah… well. So you know how I was—or still am, I guess—in a relationship with—”

“Kim Yerim? Know that too, unfortunately, all my friends in all the srats are obsessed with y’all.” You give a small sigh. “Her cheating is such a pity.”

“God, I know right? This is gonna be so horrible,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and bites down on his lip.

You snap your fingers in front of his face. “Um, excuse me? Is that all? I’m sorry for you, man, truly, but um, can you leave now? You’re really wasting my very precious time.”

He really is. The only reason why you didn’t flip out yet was because—as embarrassing as it—you were distracted by the guy’s astonishingly good looks. But his beauty isn’t gonna help you pass tomorrow’s exam.

Suddenly regretting wasting the ten minutes that you had saved by ditching Chaeryeong at the convenience store, you clap your hands together and reach for your door. “Great talk! Or not? I guess? See you around, Choi Yeonjun!”

His eyes grow very wide at that and both hands come up to stop you from unlocking your door, before you have even made the move to fully turn around, and—

Oh.

Now you’re caged between the door and both his arms. The same arms with all that muscular definition you just saw up close. 

“Please don’t kick me out. Let me stay here. Please.”

This time it is your eyes that bulge out. “The hell? Why?”

He retracts his hands to brace one of them on his waist and pinch the bridge of his nose with the forefinger and thumb of the other. “I can’t leave…”

You lean away from him. “Dude, if you’re looking for a shoulder to cry on? You’ve come to the absolutely worst person. And if you’re looking for a rebound hook-up… well, could you wait till I’m done with tomorrow’s exam?”

Yeonjun’s face goes from confused to intrigued to humorous. “None of those, actually, but – I’ll keep your offer in mind.”

His wink shoots sparks through you and you immediately purse your lips. “It wasn’t an—okay, then what do you want? My econ exam is tomorrow and I stand to lose all my credits if I flunk this, so please—”

“Wait, econ?” He spins on his heels to peek at your textbook and the slides you had pulled up on your laptop, leaving you gaping behind him. “Ooh, Consumer Behavior? This is a good one. D’you have flash cards? Don’t skip decision roles, Professor Jeon is obsessed with ’em.”

You look at the guy with wide eyes. “Uh—what?”

Looking at you over his shoulder, Yeonjun flashes you a grin. “You’re talking to a 99 scorer in Consumer Behavior.”

— COMING SOON!

© yeonboy 2024 // do not steal, copy or repost. respect your local content creators, kaythanks.

#txt #txt x you #txt x reader #yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun fanfic #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x reader #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #txt fanfic #txt scenarios #yeonjun scenarios #tomorrow x together

[immediatebreakfast]

After these talks of preparation, Jonathan's attitude becoming more and more jumpy as he listens to the people supposed to help Mina talk about her transformation, and the Czarina Catherine being held hostage by the fog... Mina is probably living her own version of hell on earth right now.

Mina is a kind woman, an intelligent woman, an observing woman. Very aware of her surroundings, and the people that walk around her thanks to being a manners teacher. She reached when Lucy couldn't, she guided Jonathan towards information and inspired all of these men to swear loyalty to her alone.

And now Mina is trapped in a limbo of darkness, and coldness. Hearing, and watching how her comrades talk about how to kill her if god gives up on her. Then the hypnosis comes in a shove in the water deep deep down, and suddenly Mina is dead. Not in the body but in the mind.

Feeling dead, but her heart is still beating. Knowing what a coffin feels like, and how no light comes underground. Only hearing the sound of the waves as her breathing becomes shorter becasue what if she can afixiate while doing this? Then Mina wakes up, and the first thing she sees is Van Helsing's face deep in thought.

The report is the same as yesterday... Again, but Mina notices (of course she does) how Van Helsing "subtlely" checks her face, and mouth then talks to Seward in hushed tones. But, not the ones that ladies like her, and Lucy have practiced up to perfection to talk about someone who is present without noticing, no. It's a simple low voice without finesse, or any attempt of masking that they are talking about her, about her letargy, about her pale skin, about her spike in energy on the evenings. Even Jonathan could do a better job, Mina knows because she taught him a little.

Mina is probably more aware than anyone might think, so aware that she probably prefers sleeping than enduring. I wonder Mina thought for even a second "Do they think she is stupid now?"

#It's sadly good that Mina is sleeping most of the time because all of this would wound her #I wonder if she thinks of Lucy while she is in that dull state between sleep and awake #All interactions muddled while only feeling a cold familiar and lovely hand anchoring her down to reality #Oh how I wish Mina had the strenght to grab a pen and write #I bet if she asked Jonathan to hold the paper for her he would #dracula daily #dracula #mina harker #mina murray

[thereapersgambit]

Theory Repost

Alright theory time theory time

So, this particular theory is one I've had about a certain creature and I have seen the same theory around a few times as well but the new free chapter (#100) puts a litte confidence behind it. This all starts with the Raven's curiosity about the creature stalking Lenore and while Lenore is expectedly surprised she suspects it could be the Vandernacht curse that ended with her. That answer, to both me and the Raven, was a bit unsatisfactory because it seems unlikely to be the case until I thought about another theory that I've had but with no good foundation.

I know most of you remember the first ceature we come across (not the flying sperm cells); The deer like creature that chases Lenore and Annabelle until they run into the Academy. I'll just say it, I think it's Theo. And look, you think it's random, I think it's random but here are my reasons. Looking back at the creature, that looks like a muntant of a deer. Glimpses of memories pertaining Theo weren't uncommon for Lenore but the one that stands out for this situation is in chapter 38.

"I've always liked Venison."

The memory is Theo coming home with other hunters carrying deer game. It's an animal I feel is associated with Theo. I'd also put money on the bet that that's the same creature stalking Lenore instead of it being a random being looking for a light snack. So just think, the creature that follows her is not a manifestation of a curse that even haunts her in death, as she believes (Although, the curse does seem that persistent) but is another victim of the curse and Theo being that creature is a big possibility.

Now to really get a feel of this theory, it makes me think "what the hell would have happened to him to become that?" The deans surprisingly mentioned Lenore's brother but unfortunately not how he was impacted by Nevermore Academy; if he won a second life, if he went to the Land of the Dead though he'd shown much promise or even escaped and probably doomed to a worse fate. It isn't mentioned at all. But as much as I'd like to believe he won, I'd still have my doubts even without this theory.

It makes me question what the hell goes on in limbo between the land of the living and the dead. Does it change you over time or is this Theo's spectre? Had he escaped and succumed to the form?

Hold on: This is me hours later, with a revelation. In the new chapter, Lenore accuses the Raven of being affected by the deans. Is this being unable to shift to another form while in Nevermore Academy. What if it's the Deans putting some sort of barrier from rampages of magic or in this case, Spectres. This may have to do something with how being outside of the Academy may change a being over time, which we kmow happens from the Raven but is halted or reduced in the Academy. This gives me much more confidence about my theory.

#nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #white raven #annabel lee whitlock #nevermore #nevermore webcomic #lenore vandernacht #ada nevermore #annabel lee x lenore

[joannasteez]

crying, laughing, loving, lying - australian merlot

pairing: roman reigns x angel (black oc) warning: no warnings. first date fluff. this is an alternate universe work of fiction, so no wrestling will be mentioned. authors note: this will hopefully, be followed by other pieces that show the progression of angel and romans relationship. get ready for hallmark movie realness. music inspo: crying, laughing, loving, lying by labi siffre word count: 3100

some restaurants are made for first dates. for habitual blind daters too skittish to reach beyond that hectic first circle of hell limbo called first base. the 'will it now? won't it finally?', of it all. this ceaseless punishment of lovelessness. and angel thinks that it's all more shitty than bullshit anyways. love is simply an accompaniment and not the whole damn tune. a cappella's are more fascinating anyways. love is more of an accessory. something like bracelets or anklets. a thing to put on that dresses up life a little more prettily. but there is a trouble to it. the labor of coordination far less rewarding than it's worth. and what of the fruitlessness? the defilement and scarcity that rottens the garden. a few ruined by many and now she's at her tenth blind date since the new year, already familiar with the taste of fucking bile.  

"you need someone". 

but she doesn't. because need implies the failure of survival without it and if after every date her stomach churns—with a fear that she refuses to acknowledge—then that wasn't something she wanted anyways. definitely not something she needed. 

but here, amongst white table cloth, she waits. 7:39 pm. slightly too early to be upset because he, whoever he is, isn't late yet. but she wishes very openly that he will be. it'd just be a strike against him. something that eases the guilt of ghosting him when he inevitably asks for another date. and please don't mistake the self assuredness for a too big ego, she just knows these things. it's based all on common occurrence. they bring roses because "all women love roses", dragging their feet in eased and so damn smiley despite being five, ten or even fifteen minutes late and it absolutely grinds her fucking gears. cleanliness is next to godliness but fuck it punctuality is too. he will come with a rose and he will be late and he will ramble about himself and he will stare at her cleavage and then imply that him paying the bill grants access to spreading her open and then the inevitable lump of bile. 

it was a song she'd heard and a dance done a thousand times and her head hurt from the thundering bass and her feet from trying to keep pace with such terrible rhythm. 

angel wants to leave. wants to finally grant herself the relief of no guilt by stepping away before the burden of ridding her tongue of the bile. 

but she can't, because he's here now. sitting down with no rose. 

what the hell? 

and he is beautiful. a huge mountain of a man. herculean with a directness to his eyes that makes it appear as though he is staring through her skin and into deeper, more vulnerable parts. heat scorching fast over nerves and bones till she grows warm and its concerning. because angel has gone on first dates with beautiful men before. sat with them, spoken to and at them, laughed with and at them, dined with them, but for some gut churning reason, this, feels different. the temperature of the atmosphere is warm. the life in his eyes, inviting. 

and for the love of God he doesn't have a rose and it makes angel laugh. small and to herself. 

he sits. confused and amused in that awkward way. where the idea of a joke itself makes you laugh, not privy to hooks, punchlines, sinkers and the like. 

and for the first time in a myriad of failed dates, angel is taken by his voice. a dark symphony. pitch low and smooth. strong and double bass like. 

"can i get in on the joke?"

she wants to shrivel into and like a ball. because it wasn't necessarily funny. it was more so the absurdity of the situation. of course after much complaining and internal deliberation she would be sent someone that would stick her foot in her mouth. at least in regards to the romantic gesture of giving roses.

her throat clears. "sorry, it's just...it's kinda weird. it's nothing". 

he squints and it feels like a hole is tearing through her skin. peeling away till its settling warm into veins.

"if you leave me in suspense i'm gonna make you feel like shit about it". 

"is that a threat?"

"more like a spoiler".

and now the laugh is bright and clear. nothing hidden and inward about it. and he loves the sound. wouldn't mind if he could hear it a few more times tonight. her sarcasm more laden in her words than the surprise of them.

"because you've never practiced that before". 

"in a mirror once or twice, but i got you all giggly so tell me whats funny". 

angel sighs. "you didn't bring a rose and for whatever reason, men show up to first dates with roses", waving her fingers away to express the un-seriousness of her amusement. "it's just a thing". 

"like... the bachelor". 

"yeah", snorting. "sure, like the bachelor". 

his fingers, long and thick and just downright massive, rub into his beard. mulling over her words with a bout of sincerity that she doesn't think she's seen in a while. like some actual consideration, and not a half-assed pulling together of thoughts into words to make conversation for the sake of filling in the silence. 

"never really approached it like that. it seems more like a burden than anything y'know?", his eyes slipping over the bottle of wine you ordered before he showed, before its doing the same to your face. "flowers do the dying thing and then what? just something else to throw away. feels odd". 

"i mean, theres ways to preserve them". because of fucking course she would say this, after making a fuss about always getting flowers. but it was just that weird thing, trying to see the upside in a situation. to heal the downtrodden idealism of it all. "but i agree with you". 

"sounds like you want a rose". 

"i don't. i just-...". she sighs. flustered. "can we start over".

and he smiles. at her awkwardness and her eyes and the crinkle in her brows as she gathers herself. 

"of course". 

eyeing the bottle of wine again, his hand reaches out to you. 

"roman". 

and it fits. encapsulates his everything. name and the air of him reminiscent of old statues built with marble and brow sweating patience. an easy demeanor inherited from stoic warriors of old. fine silk looking hair and a jaw she's sure she can cut against if not for the thickness of his beard. 

she takes his hand and shakes. thumb over his veins and wrapped up in the strength of his palm. 

"angel".

"are you?"

they both smile. teasing eyes and a playful air. 

"sometimes".

he hums short. the song of it uprooted from his chest. hand slipping away from hers but the impression of it leaves a stain on her skin. where his fingers squeezed in the midst of a mere cordial shaking. and his eyes are not shy. taking hers to hold steady and uncompromising. and never has a man held her gaze so well, not since-

"you been here before?"

and it is only the shame of so many dates in such a short amount of time that leaves her tongue dry and her thoughts partial to lying. "uhh", her eyes sweeping over the menu. "no. i haven't". 

"any allergies?"

"used to be pescatarian a while back but i stopped. why?"

"i don't want you to surprise me with a closed airways cause i recced you something with peanut oil". 

"you've been here before?"

"a few times". 

"on dates". more like a statement than a question. 

he's busy looking over the menu, like he's seeing it for the first time. "dates, work stuff, a night out. it's a cool spot. convenient". he takes the wine bottle, opening it to pour. humming in delight as he nose takes to smell. "you've been here before though".

"what?"

angels heart sinking way down till it's falling steady out of her chest cavity and into her stomach. taking something similar to a rolling tumble as it goes and it feels devastatingly awful. being caught in a lie has never been a smooth easy ordeal and the urge to get up and leave runs rife under her skin. prickling in a manner that taunts her till her cheeks grow hot white. she wants to hide and suffer in the silence of her own shame. and he's a complete asshole about it, because he lets her simmer into a scorched heat, struck and wordless as a grin plays through his lips. picking up the wine bottle once more. his fingers wrapping about it easy and familiar. 

"when i said your last name for the reservation, the waiter called you by your first. which means she knows you, because you've been here a few times". his lips smiling. much more amused than worked up by your little white lie. sipping the wine to taste again. "that and the wine. first-timers spend too much on wine. the merlot here is decent enough". 

a forced chuckle toughens up. angel sooting the bridge of her nose with a thumb. un-fucking-believable. "this is fucking embarrassing". 

"it's good wine though. cheap as shit but it's pretty good".

"look", she starts. a deep sigh before she makes the effort to meet him. his brown eyes soft still. void of scrutiny. amusement waning but still nothing of judgement. and the niceties unnerved angel. most men didn't take too kind to lies in such a formally romantic setting. it made for awfully fierce energy that led to a frigidness she hated to maneuver. not that she was a habitual liar, but still, it worried her. "i didn't mean to lie... well... i did but-"

"it's alright. i get it. i used to be the same way".

"a liar?"

"embarrassed". 

and she knew exactly what he meant without him having to say it. because this probably wasn't his first date of the new year either. the wait staff were probably familiar with him too. his familiarity with the taste of the restaurants stock of merlot making perfect sense. he'd probably, once upon a time, given his fair share of roses. the what do you do for work spiel and the sometimes awkward dance of wanting more after the first date and wrongly reading what he thought were obvious suggestions that a woman wanted him physically. and sometimes thats all they wanted, or at least that's what angel thinks, because some of her dates just wanted sex. no strings or some strings and then it got tangled and messy. always too damn messy. but he was over the shame of cycling through to find "the one". angel had yet to get there. 

she clears her throat. thumbs twiddling together. apologetic as she looks to him. "i'm sorry anyways". 

roman's silence is heavy. his eyes slipping over her face. noting the details that exist in their guilt. but still even in this, angel is a beautiful woman. thick lashes and slightly hooded eyes. cheeks high and plump. her lips full and surely kissable. especially when she takes them between her teeth in what he's sure to be her nerves overworking themselves with all his staring and his wordlessness. his smile warm and easy again, turning back to the menu. he's had enough of making her feel like shit anyways, for it dampened the mood far too much and he rather you smile again and for as long as they date lasts. 

"forgiven and forgotten. the real litmus test is how you take your steak". 

"who said i wanted steak". 

"one, you owe me for lying".

she gasps. lips pulling up and her knee knocking softly into his. "you said forgiven and forgotten". 

"and two", he continues, chuckling. "you said you were pescatarian, meaning you gave it up cause you realized that grass ain't green".

"why are you reading me so well right now, this is crazy". 

"wouldn't be good at what i do if i couldn't".

her mouth purses over the wine glass to sip at the sweetness of the merlot, waiting for him to continue. and when he doesn't she finds herself more interested in hearing a man talk than she ever has in all her time of dating. 

"which is?"

"i teach and coach". 

"okay", her eyes play and rolling. "don't leave me in suspense. be more specific". 

and here the fierceness of his features round out to a softness. but surely it cant be those few sips of wine, suddenly freeing up the tight collection of his resolve. the slightest dusting of pink at his cheeks and his mouth smiling smaller. humility bracing him harshly just before her. it was more obvious to her now, he hates talking about himself. 

"sports history and college football", barely meeting her eyes. the menu suddenly becoming so very important to him. his throat clearing as his palm reaches to rub up against the thick hair of his beard. " 'm not a head coach or anything, just for the defensive line but its...", and finally he looks to her again. "it's cool". 

"don't say just like that. it down plays your passion. i like passion". 

the sincerity melting a warmth into him. the air feeling less suffocating for the both of them now as they share a smile. 

and the dinner goes smoother than angel had expected. the food cooked immaculately  and the wine warming her belly. his passionate talks soothing to her ears and his jokes funnier. the knock of his long legs turning into less of an accident and more of a playful teasing. and by the end of their steaks they're both closer than they started, leaning in to hear more of each others voices. his freckles an endearing scatter against his cheeks. the slick lick of his lips as he talks catching her eyes and by the end of her wine glass she comes to the arresting realization that he's doing it on purpose. slowly but surely ingratiating himself through small touches and that hostage holding stare. 

angel, afraid now, feels a disappointment weighing in her. the ending of it all , this little world of quickly built intimacy, nearing quicker than she realized. both of them perusing through the dessert menu. more than slowly to stretch the time.

"you a dessert guy?"

he sets down the menu. her voice bringing him in again. "fuck yeah i'm a dessert guy. they make a bomb ass bread pudding here. best i've had". 

and maybe her eyes are suggestive. and maybe they sharpen to pierce through him a little more fiercely and maybe her knee knocks into his when her lips part to speak. but angel does well about pleading the fifth, even with herself. 

her eyes looking up through her lashes as she flits them from the menu to him. and she can track the trailing of his gaze straight to her plump lips. "you've never had mine". 

"is that an invitation to taste test?"

a shiver breaks over her skin. an undulating warmth at her cheeks. she pushes her menu to the side. 

"y'know pastry emporium? the shop on 4th and everling?"

roman's brows jump in an instant, before they pull together. the sudden realization exciting his nerves.

"thats yours?"

"half of it. i co-own".

"i'm stoppin' by there all the time and i've never seen you". 

and the tiny world they live in has just become slightly smaller. their existences dancing on the edges of one another for who knows how long before this faithful night of teasing smiles and blood sweetening sips of australian wine.

"i don't mesh too well with the front of house stuff". her knee taking a soft slow lean into his. and maybe the styling and placement of the tables and chairs are purposeful. for moments like these. "but i can make an exception". 

"you better". his lips spreading wide and his smile bright. nothing bashful left in his expression as its overtaken by the prospect of seeing you again. "cause you owe me a taste test". 

and for once there is no threat of bile to stain her throat, or even the cringing anticipation thereof. and when they're both finally, hesitantly ready for the bill, he takes the responsibility without words. fitting his card into the leather book. appreciation swimming to settle gently in her belly along with the sweet merlot. he tips well too, and his fingers catch soft against her palm, leading her out of the restaurant and into the balmy night spring air. the urge to stick to him creeping in her skin. but the same seems to exist for him because he stands just before her, eyes circling the city, searching and thinking, before they find her face. a small smile on her lips as she looks to him expectantly. his touch grows firmer, as if he's just come to the end of a pending decision. fully taking her hand as he begins to step. 

"walk with me". but theres no inflection that implies a question. more of a statement that softly wills her into following. 

his hand as warm as his smile and gentle even in its size. he strolls easy too, to help her keep up with the wide steps he takes. 

but even beyond the easy going tenderness of him, angel has never felt such a stillness in her nerves before. the city she's seen a thousand times suddenly appearing brighter and less overwhelming. the usual droning no longer a harsh symphony. the pitch and pace less grating. and maybe it's silly, because he's, despite his teasings and his suggestive eyes and interesting conversation, still a stranger. still a man with a world of a life she knows so little about. filled with hopes and dreams and secrets. but that feeling nags still. nestles deep under her skin as it attempts to force out the hesitancies. 

roman leads her to the front of a flower shop and her eyes play at rolling. 

she tries to pull him away from the entrance. "we spoke about this".

"we did". 

his smiling melting her resolve to mush. so bright and unapologetic in how it spreads. he takes her hand tightly, pulling her into the shop. 

he orders one rose exactly. giving it to her after he's paid for it. 

"why?", she asks. trying to fight the rising heat in her cheeks. 

"because i think deep down, you want it. you just don't want it to feel like an obligation. and this right here is all off the cuff. im sure of that”.

and angel's belly flutters. that cliche appearance of butterfly's. 

tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @gomussy @spritelucozade @venusesworld @thesamoanqueen @empressdede (if i forgot anyone who wants a tag for roman centered fics, my apologies! just remind me for next time)

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x black oc #fluff #first dates #au #hallmark movie realness #something something romance #eventual smut #eventual angst #joannasteez

[libby-for-life]

Title: Adam Dies

Summary: Adam dies. Or does he? When he's reincarnated back to when he was first created, Adam realizes that he has a chance to live a better way. One where he doesn't die nor does he have to make the same mistakes. Can Adam make a better future, one where he isn't so alone?

Chapter 1: Rebirth (preview)

Adam didn't really think he would die today. He actually came down to do the killing. Who would have thought that he would be stabbed in the literal back by some maniacal demon? He could hear her insane laughter as she stabbed him over and over again, burning firey pain running through his veins with each stab.

He felt her hop off him just as he heard the sound of Lute's voice yelling for him. "NO!" Adam whimpered in pain when he felt himself being rolled over. Lute's devastated face came into view. The first thing he noticed was that her arm had been ripped off, golden blood gushing from her wound. And yet, she was worried about him. He had never had someone look at him like that before.

He couldn't help but smile gently at her. Lute was loyal to the end and if it were possible, he would never forget that. He felt himself close his eyes as he heard Lute yell one last time. "ADAM!"

Darkness.

The darkness around him seemed never-ending as if he was stuck in an abyss with no way out. It was cold and lonely, and he couldn't see anything. Was this his hell? The thought crossed his mind more than once. He tried to shake it off, but the feeling of despair lingered. It was like a heavy weight on his chest that refused to lift. He wondered if this was his punishment for his sins. He was once Adam, the first man created by God. But now, he was nothing but a lost soul, floating aimlessly in the void of darkness. At first, he was filled with anger and indignation. After all, how could he, Adam, be confined to such a fate? He should be lounging in heaven, basking in the glory of God.

XxX

As he floated aimlessly, Adam's anger gradually faded into a deep sense of denial. He couldn't even begin to fathom how long he had been stranded in limbo. It seemed like an eternity had passed since he was cast out of Heaven. For he has to be or they would have come for him. But he held on to the hope that he would be brought back soon and all of this would be forgotten. After all, he was the first man and a pivotal figure in the creation story. He wasn't just anybody - he was somebody important! Surely, Heaven needed him. And God needed him too! Who would lead his army of angels without him? These thoughts swirled in his mind as he desperately clung to the belief that he would soon be rescued.

XxX

Adam found himself still lost in the pitch-black darkness, unable to see anything around him. He had no idea how long he had been drifting in this state, but it felt like it had been far too long. He realized as he had nowhere else to go, that maybe he had been too brutal in his killings when it came to demons. And yes, he could have been more attentive to the rules instead of skirting along them. If any could hear him, he's learned his lesson now! He would be much more careful in the future.

As he called out for help, he hoped that whoever could hear him would understand the gravity of his situation and come to his aid. Despite his pleas, the silence remained unbroken, leaving him feeling more alone and helpless than ever before.

XxX

The oppressive darkness seemed to stretch on endlessly, causing Adam's desperation to grow with each passing moment. He couldn't help but wonder if anyone would come to his rescue, but deep down, he knew that he was alone. After all, what use did heaven have for him? Lute, his right-hand angel, could easily take over his duties and the archangels were more than capable of carrying on without him. Perhaps it was only right that he suffer the eternal consequences of his actions. It was his own fault, he couldn't deny that. Adam had made grave mistakes, and now he had to face the repercussions of his wrongdoings.

It was fitting, wasn't it? If Lilith could see Adam now, she would be enjoying his eternal suffering. She was as beautiful as she was dangerous. Even in the idyllic setting of the Garden of Eden, Lilith was a force to be reckoned with. She was fiercely independent and determined to do things her own way, no matter the cost. He remembers how he would force himself on her, saying that God wanted this to happen and that it was their duty as His creations to do as they were told. He...didn't like it either but he didn't want to displease God in any way.

He learned the hard way that there was also a darker side to her nature, a ruthless streak that made her dangerous to those who crossed her. Adam made the horrible mistake of ever hurting her and paid the price when he was tempted to eat from that damned apple. Poor Eve, so innocent in nature. So dainty and submissive, the exact opposite of Lilith. He didn't like her either.

Eve was always hanging off of Adam, no matter what he did. Her amazement was unceasing and it seemed that everything Adam did was an incredible feat of strength and intelligence. At first, Adam was flattered by her constant attention and empty praises, but he soon grew tired of it. He couldn't understand what was so great about picking up a simple rock or performing other everyday tasks that he found mundane. Despite this, Eve would still cheer and clap in admiration, which only made Adam feel more annoyed. He wished that she would stop worshiping him for things that he considered to be trivial.

Eventually, he thought this was how he should be treated and expected as such when he first came to heaven.

Adam was now aware of the fact that Eve was a product of a highly patriarchal and oppressive system. The system had been designed in such a manner that after Lilith's rebellion had resulted in Eva being put in her place instead. Consequently, men and women were no longer considered equal. The angels, who had been entrusted with the task of restoring order, had decided to make women more submissive in nature. Adam supposed that this strategy had worked, considering there was no more fighting or rebellion against the order. However, despite the apparent success of this system, Adam couldn't help but feel unhappy. He couldn't shake off the feeling that something was fundamentally wrong with this situation.

As he floated in the dark, for how long Adam couldn't remember, it came to him. Love. He wasn't in love with Lilith at the time of creation nor was he in love with Eve after it. That was why he was unhappy during it all even after he ate the fruit of the forbidden tree. In fact, this was why he had eaten the fruit to begin with. He was so depressed with his life that he was willing to even sin if that meant change.

'And look where that landed you. If only he could do things differently, maybe you wouldn't have died.'

Suddenly, a yank at his core made Adam yelp in pain. What was going on? And then he knew no more.

So, what do you think of the preview? If you're interested in my book, Adam Dies, then go check it out!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53883259/chapters/136385803

#adamsapple #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #preview #chapter 1

[cat-mentality]

PLS ELABORATE ON THIS [the theory on which eggs fit which sins]

OKAY BUCKLE UP ANON!!!! This is straight up tin foil hat territory, i'm just like manifesting from nothing because it is incredibly fun in my mind

For this to make a little of sense i'm going to consider Purgatory as my catholic school taught me- A place where the sinners go to repent to their sins, either for all of eternity, if the sins are too big or too terrible, or until they have been forgiven and i'm taking Dante's inferno as my guideline on how this whole thing operates.

I'm also going with the theory that Black Cucurucho was the one responsible for taking the eggs/scaring them away, maybe to make them vulnerable and fall on his trap, is my personal theory that the Black Cucurucho is literally the anti-Federation, as in order versus chaos and as such he is looking to destroy everything the Federation is building and using the egg's to do so (and also Cellbit!!! If it's not the Rebels giving him the information i bet on Black Cucurucho more than the Feds themselves).

So, basically: The eggs get kidnapped by this new strange force (not evil per say, not more than the Federation itself, but less interested in pretending not to be, like the Anfitrião in Ordem Paranormal) and they get stuck in Purgatory, who is made by 9th circles, divided by the type of sinners they are set to punish. The tickets are the passage to get into the circles, Virgil acted as Dante's guide in this case the train will be responsible for taking them from one circle (island) to the next IF they manage to complete whatever task will be set in their way.

I believe the placement of each egg (in my delulu head) has less to do with their own sins, as the Black Cucurucho is not really interested in them but rather in the suffering he can inflict on the parents using them, but in the mortal flaw he sees on their parents.

Chayenne i would put being stuck in the 1st circle, Limbo. It's the less worse of the nine as it is the place where the unbaptized and virtuous pagan stay, endlessly walking in eternal darkness.

Why you ask me?

Well Chayenne IS the son of the Angel of Death. His other father is also a being blessed by death (or cursed with life, your pick). He worships the Blood God. He is dear to the Goddess of Death herself.

What's more pagan than that?

Besides Chayenne IS virtuous himself, he is a warrior, devout to the Blood God however not for bloodlust, but for the desire of protecting those he loves and cherishes. Little Chayenne, walking endlessly searching for his siblings, praying to his fathers' goddesses to shine a light, to show him the way, to protect his siblings, but receiving nothing back as the goddesses is forbidden from interfering with the living, even the ones toying the line into her realm.

I actually changed my mind and we are putting Tallulah in the 2nd circle, Luxury. Now, we about to play loose with the definition of luxury here as this is the circle where the damned are tormented with strong winds that drag them through hell, i'm focusing not on Luxury as a carnal sin, but rather the element of desire.

And for this we are going to consider Wilbur as the parent being punished, not Philza.

Wilbur who left for fame.

Wilbur who left for months and months and months. Who lusted for the world, who wanted to be known, who wanted to be adored, who lusted after a life of his dreams.

Wilbur who in his lust for the world forgot the one person who always considered him her whole world.

Tallulah lusting after safety, lusting for a place to belong, lusting to leave a mark in the world so that it doesn't forget her, trying to grab onto anything to prove her worth and her value but now being stuck in those winds. dragged without a destination, powerless and alone.

Pomme is then in the 3rd circle, Gluttony. The 3rd circle is the circle for those who were gluttons, who over indulged, are now stuck in pits of dirty, freezing mud, tormented by Cerberus and also a storm of snow, hail and thunder.

Etoiles, always hungry for the next fight, for the next dungeon, for the next opponent.

Baghera always hungry for answers, for things she cannot have, cannot do (she wants an explanation about what happened to her, she wants to save her friends when she cannot even save herself, she desires for the world to be good and kind).

Antoine, always hungry for power, selling his soul, his family, to achieve it. Devouring faces, devouring stories, devouring lives, swallowing everything whole until he doesn't even know who he was supposed to really be.

Pierre always hungry for connection, for warmth, hungry for those he meets, trying to fill the void in his heart with the temporary warmth of another body.

Pomme hungry for adventures, hungry to prove that she is worth of love (she remembers, those first days, the distrusts, the coldness, the way they considered not taking her and she never wants to feel that cold), Pomme being stuck, helpless when she knows so very well that helplessness gets you killed, that it makes you weak and unworthy.

The 4th circle, Avarice is empty, of the eggs at least. A respite, as much as they can have in that place.

They find Ramon in the 5th circle, Wrath. Localized on the Styx, the river that cuts through the Purgatory, made of boiling water and blood, that is the place where the wrathful are locked on eternal fights on the surface of the river, on the bottom the sullen are forever stuck drowning on the things they never got to say.

Fit who lived his whole life in a desolate wasteland where fighting was the only thing he could do. Fit who knew no rest, no peace, no sound of those fighting and those dying.

Fit who fought his whole life, who is still fighting, who doesn't know how to rest, who doesn't know how to forgive, who chokes on his wrath, who forces it down his throat because he wants to be better but anger was all that he knew during most of his life.

Fit who looks at those people in their eternal battle, bleeding and making others bleed for no reason, with no end in sight, with no real purpose but to cause harm, and feels at home.

Ramon who tries so hard to be light, to support and help his father in whatever he needs, who drowns his own feelings because he doesn't want to bother others, because he wants to be the rock they can lean on, drowning at the bottom of the Styx.

Leonarda is on the 6th circle, Heresy. This is the circle where the sinners had the intention of sinning, the one destined to those who denied the existence of god, who went against the beliefs of their time, and now they lay on open graves as fire burns them.

And what is Foolish if not a non believer?

He believes in no god, no authority, no deity. He believes in himself, he believes in his family, he believes in what he thinks is right.

Oh he plays pretend of course, he smiles at the Federation, he works for them, he joins the Ordo, he participates in their reunions, but do he believe in any of them? Does he commit to one dogma over the other?

Of course not.

Foolish is a non believer. He will join the side that offers him the most, he will betray them as easily as he joined, he will jump from a place to another as long as that keeps his family safe, as long as that is what is better for them.

Foolish who sins and smiles as he does so.

Little Leonarda who believes in her Pa above everything and anything else, burning in a never ending fire. Little Leonarda who doesn't give a fuck about anything else as long as he is okay, as long as he is by her side, who would follow him into whatever mess he got himself into, who couldn't care less about other's morals or expectations, who would gladly sin as long as they are together.

Richarlyson is on the 7th circle, Violence. This circle is actually divided in three parts but i think only two would be used the Valley of the Phlegethon where the ones who were violent against others were submerged on a river of the blood of those they hurt, and the valley of the suicidal, where those who were violent against themselves became either trees, eaten by harpies or chased by hungry dogs.

And well, it's self explanatory isn't it?

Who has spilled more blood than Cellbit? Between the war, the prison and not the Island he has enough blood on his account to drown them all.

Forever? Oh there are bloodbaths in his past too. There is rage that blinds, that takes hold of him and only leaves when he is standing in the aftermath of a carnage.

Mike does not mind blood. Never has, never will.

And who hurts Pac more than he does himself? Who hates Cellbit more than he hates himself? Who blames Forever for things, more than himself?

They may turn their rage against the world, may bath it into blood, may spill it until rivers form but they drown themselves in it too.

And Richarlyson? Little boy who saw too much, who knew death and suffering too early, who lives at war with a part of himself who wants nothing but to hurt and destroy.

Finally, Dapper is on the 8th circle, Fraud. This circle has ten pits in it, each designated to a type of sinner with their own punishment, raking from being whipped by demons to being submerged into boiling tar or being dressed into shiny clothes who were as heavy as lead.

And what is BadboyHalo if not a fraud?

Who even knows who he truly is, what he truly thinks? Probably not even himself.

This is a man of many layers and many masks, a man who presents himself in any way he thinks is right regardless of what he truly feels or thinks, this is a man who will lie to anyone, including himself.

This is a man who embodies every single sin punished, who could easily be put into any of the pits. Is he not a seducer? Is he not a liar and a thief? Corrupted by his own darkness? A hypocrite, to others and to himself? Does he not sow discord, does he not give bad advice?

And isn't Dapper too much like their father? Little Dapper who lies and lies and lies, who hides behind her own masks, who is now being punished because they do not know who they truly are underneath all the masks.

And the 9th circle, the last one?

Betrayal.

Sometimes the only way to leave hell, to leave Purgatory, is to be worse than the devils.

#can't believe being catholic is relevant for a minecraft theory #weirdest sentence i ever typed in my whole life #this got so long fuck me i guess #but im not putting it under read more #qsmp #qsmp eggs #qsmp philza #qsmp brazilians #qsmp french #i'm not tagging everyone fuck that #qsmp fic #qsmp foolish #qsmp wilbur #anon im so sorry #11pm and im unhinged

[halsteadlover]

Locked In part. II

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x F!Reader.

• Requested: yes, by anon.

• Warnings: mention of blood, swearing, angst.

• Word count: 3879.

• A/N: this is part 2 of 3. I hope you’ll like it. Thank you so much for you support, the love I received lately has been so overwhelming I can’t really stress enough how much I’m grateful for every single one of you ❤️ Let me know what do you think about this piece, like, comment and reblog if you want, it’d be amazing. Love you all xx

<- Part one

Jay was on the verge of losing his mind.

He had always been a patient type, after all he was a sniper, patience must’ve been a virtue, but at that moment, knowing you were in that prison and in who knew what state, he couldn't sit still. He didn't know if you were okay, if you were hurt, if you were still hidden and that state of limbo made him lose his mind.

“What the hell are we waiting for?! We have to get in!” exclaimed an angry and impatient Jay, approaching Voight and the rest of the team. They were all armed and equipped with their bulletproof vests as they, together with the tactical team, worked out the best plan for the break-in.

“Halstead you need to calm down. We're all worried about her but we can't break in like this, there's a riot in there and if we suddenly break in we could make it worse,” Voight replied, knowing the more time went on, the harder it would’ve been to keep Jay calm.

“Don't fucking tell me to stay calm, it's your fault she's in danger!” he almost yelled at his boss “You shouldn't have sent her there! Not alone! I told you I'd go with her and now God only knows what happened to her!”

“Halstead, choose your next words carefully,” Voight admonished him, staring at him with menacing eyes but Jay didn't let himself be influenced, he was too angry.

“Or what? What are you going to do sarge?” Jay spat through gritted teeth, walking over to Voight at which point Adam and Kevin intervened, pushing Jay away before he could do something he would regret. “If anything happens to her you'll pay for it,” he continued, pointing a finger at him, and god if he meant every word he said.

“Okay man that’s enough, come with me,” Adam pulled him away.

“Let me go!” Jay exclaimed, shaking off his friend's hands. He ran his hands over his face, furious, afraid.

“Jay, listen to me alright? Y/N will be fine, she's strong, and she'll find a way to protect herself, we know her,” Adam spoke. “We're all worried about her, but we need to stay as calm as possible.”

“Calm? What the fuck are you talking about Ruz? How the fuck do you stay calm knowing one of us is locked in there and risking his life? We're out here and she might be fucking dead!” the very thought that you could… No, no, it couldn't be, you were fine, you had to be fine.

“I know you are worried about her because you care so much about her, she is your partner…”

“She's not just my fucking partner, I fucking love her! Don’t you understand it?! I can't be without her, I can't be here while God only knows what they're doing to her!” Jay almost screamed at him, stopping because of the lump in his throat, tears filling his eyes as he tried to be strong. “Adam...” he continued to speak, in a lower tone of voice “If something should happen to her...”

“No Jay,” Adam interrupted him, placing his hands on his shoulders, his heart ache to see his friend in that state “Don't say it even as a joke, she's fine and she'll be fine, c'mon we know her, she's Y/N, she'll find a way to protect herself, and whatever happens she's strong, she knows we're coming… That you're coming.”

Jay didn't answer, looked down for a moment and wiped away the single tear that slid down his cheek with one hand.

“And, Jay, can I tell you something?”

He nodded, bringing his eyes, now red and shiny, back to Adam.

“We all knew that. You are a very good detective but you are not good at hiding your feelings. The only ones who haven't figured it out are you and her.”

“Her?”.

“You're really dumb man,” Adam chuckled, returning his hands to his sides “You really don’'t realize it don’t you?”.

Jay shook his head, his heart pounding.

“That woman dotes on you Halstead and we've all seen it and believe me she loves you as much as you love her.”

Jay felt his cheeks burn. Did you really feel what he felt for you? Did you really love him too? He couldn't believe it.

“So get a grip and focus Halstead, she needs you now and you can't lose your mind. We will save her and you will tell her how much you love her and she will too, okay?”

Jay nodded as a storm of emotion washed over him. He wanted you. He wanted so much to see you again, hug you, hold you like he had never done before, he missed you so much. He was so scared, it was like air was missing from his lungs and never in his life had he felt similar emotions.

“I don't know if I can Adam…” he whispered, trying not to get overwhelmed by the urge to cry. “I just… I just want her back…”

Adam hugged him in response, patting his shoulder. He wasn't very good with words but that was his way of telling him he was there, that everything would be fine.

“I know it's hard Jay,” Adam murmured, pulling away from the hug “But like I said she needs you more than anyone in the world right now, she’s waiting for you to come and save her and you can't let fear win, not now. Once we’ll save her you can do whatever you want, you can cry, scream, destroy things, but now you have to focus on her and what you can do to get in there and save her,” he continued, looking in his eyes and pointing to the cursed prison that was behind them. “We'll get her back, you'll get her back and you’ll tell her how you feel about her.”

Jay nodded again, this time with more conviction. Adam was right, about everything.

“I just need a couple of minutes.”

Adam smiled slightly. “That's my man. We’llwaiting for you.”

The team, along with that tactics and SWAT, had decided on a silent approach, some agents would enter from the roof and would descend into the wing where the riot was taking place, capturing and handcuffing every prisoner they came across and sealing every possible escape route. Other agents would instead enter through the main and secondary entrances, also using the factor of surprise to capture the detainees and finally surround them.

No one had any idea what would be in there, how many victims there would be, how many wounded.

Jay didn't care at all about the other inmates, he had entered there with the sole purpose of finding you but the more time passed and he didn't find you, the more anxiety grew.

Every corridor he walked down, every step he took, he felt his heart beat so hard in his chest, and never before had he felt such a sensation, such a turbulent state of mind.

He didn't know what to expect. Were you okay? Were you hurt? Were you hiding? The fact he hadn't heard from you anymore was worrying him to death, deep down he knew something had happened, he just didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to accept it.

His worst fears came true when an inmate approached him, a look of terror on his face.

“Chicago PD raise your hands! Against the wall!” Jay exclaimed, pointing the gun at him and not even letting him speak. The young inmate raised his hands in surrender, stammering and trying to find words as he saw a series of officers point their weapons at him.

“I… Wait… You're from the police…” he murmured stating the obvious.

“I won't say that again, face against the wall and hands behind my back,” Jay threatened, not in the least mood to waste precious time.

“The cop… The woman…” the boy stammered and Jay's eyes widened. There was no shadow of a doubt that he was talking about you.

“Where is she? Where is she?!” Jay almost yelled. He put down his gun and approached the inmate, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and slamming him against the wall. “I swear if you even touched a single hair…”

“No! Good heavens no! I didn’t do anything!” the inmate interrupted him “An inmate was beating her and... I... I took her to a safe space...”

Those words were like a punch in Jay's stomach. He tried to hold back his emotions, but he promised himself if he ever found the man who dared hurt you, he would pay dearly.

“Where is she now? Is she fine?”.

“She's in the kitchen, I hid her there, but you have to follow me.”

Jay let go of the man and began to follow him as he made his way through the corridors of that wing, trying not to be seen by other inmates. He tried to ignore the fact the young prisoner didn’t answer the question if you were fine, because you had to be fine, it couldn't be otherwise.

When he walked into the kitchen Jay's heart stopped beating for a second, his nightmares just coming true. You were lying on the ground, unconscious.

“No, no, no, no,” Jay murmured as he rushed over to you, kneeling beside your body. You'd been beaten, your face cut and bruised, your eye swollen, your hands scratched defensively, and your shirt was slightly lifted. With horror Jay realized you had been kicked in the belly judging by the huge bruises you had on your abdomen and he didn't even dare to imagine how much you suffered from the pain.

He immediately alerted the rest of the team and called for help through his transceiver, all while the prisoner watched the scene not far from him.

“Y/N, please wake up, please please,” Jay said, grabbing your face in his hands, stroking your battered skin and hair. “How long has she been unconscious?” he asked addressing the young prisoner without looking at him.

“I don't know... I think half an hour or something more...”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Baby please open your eyes for me, open your beautiful eyes. Don't do this to me, I’m begging you...” he whispered “Everything will be fine, can you hear me? I'm here now, I won't leave you alone anymore. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to protect you, I had to be here, I shouldn't have let you come alone, please forgive me...”

“You'll be fine okay? Everything will be fine, help is on the way and you will recover. Don't you dare play tricks on me, I… I need you so much baby… Please…”

Subsequent events happened so fast that it was difficult for him to even realize it. With no small amount of difficulty, the paramedics arrived and immediately transported you to the hospital. Jay didn't leave your side even for a second, he came in the ambulance with you not wanting to leave you alone for even a second.

“Why is she still not waking up?” Jay asked the paramedics concerned.

“The head trauma was severe but the GCS is good and we believe she just passed out. The thing that worries us the most, however, is that most likely with all the kicks received there may be internal bleeding or that some organ has been injured.”

“And is it… Is it dangerous?” Jay asked knowing full well the answer.

“We need to get to the hospital as soon as possible,” the paramedic replied, looking Jay in his eyes, not directly answering his question but letting him know that if you arrived late the situation could have been irreversible.

“How long has she been unconscious?”.

“For about 45 minutes, before I found her half hour.”

With everything that happened Jay didn't even think to ask the name of that young inmate and thank him for saving your life.

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, you were immediately transported to have a CT scan and an MRI. Jay was in the waiting room as he paced back and forth like a maniac, impatient and worried sick.

He kept praying that you were okay, that you’d recover soon. You were such a strong person, he knew you wouldn't give up easily, that you would fight for your life.

He took off his bulletproof vest, which he only then realized he was still wearing, before throwing it on one of the chairs in the waiting rooms.

The image of you lying on the ground, unconscious, covered in bruises and cuts, was imprinted in his mind, and he couldn't get it out of his mind. You were always smiling, always happy despite the disgust your work made you surround yourselves with, and seeing you in that state was something he’d never forget.

The next few hours passed so slowly and quickly at the same time, as if he was in a state of limbo, where nothing could be done but wait.

The rest of the team arrived at the hospital, and just seeing Voight brought back the initial anger Jay felt. None of this would have ever happened if he had sent him with you, if he hadn't sent you alone to that damn prison.

He didn't even bother to ask how things had gone in the prison, if the riot had been contained because, the truth was, he didn't care about anyone or anything, except you who were on a hospital bed in bad shape.

The lights in your room blinded you as you regained consciousness, opening your eyes. It took a moment for your vision to adjust, although your right eye was still swollen. You looked around as your mind tried to retrace the latest events that had occurred.

You remembered there had been a riot in the prison, you remembered being beaten by a prisoner who wanted to abuse you but you did not remember how or when you arrived on that hospital bed.

Your ribs hurt so bad and it felt like spears were stabbing you and breathing turned out to be more painful than you ever imagined, plus your head was pounding like you were being hit with a hammer.

You turned your head to the side and seeing Jay sitting in a chair next to you made your stomach turn upside down. He was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, his eyes half closed as if he was resting. You noticed he was wearing the same clothes you had seen him in that morning – so you deduced that it hadn't been as long as you felt – and his trousers were covered in dust.

What had he been up to?

Was he the one who saved you?

The thought made you smile although this action, simple as it was, was quite painful.

You reached out to him, and as best you could, so you stroked his forearm. Your touch snapped him awake in his chair, his gaze automatically landing on you. His eyes widened and he almost had a heart attack upon realizing you were awake and watching him.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he almost stammered, in disbelief and relief like he'd never been before. “Y/N… Holy shit, you finally woke up! How are you? You feel pain? Wait, I'll call the doctor.”

He leapt to his feet and ran out of the room before you even had a chance to answer or say anything. This made you giggle.

After the doctor examined you, Jay re-entered your room and sat down in the chair next to you again.

“How are you?” you asked in a weak tone of voice, noting his initial silence. He took your hand, stroking your injured and still red knuckles, and leaned his cheek on the back of your hand, still intertwined with his.

“I should be the one asking you that,” he replied with a small smile, but it was a dull smile, it didn't involve his eyes.

“That bastard was strong, it hurts a bit when I breathe.”

He didn’t say said anything, he just looked down for a moment. He needed a moment of silence, he needed to regain control over his body because if he looked at you for another second then he’d probably lose every ounce of rationality he possessed.

“Do I look that bad?” you joked but your expression immediately returning serious when he brought his eyes back to yours and you noticed how shiny his eyes were.

Oh God.

“Y/N…” he muttered, trying to hold back and keep his composure but failing miserably. “I thought I lost you, I was so scared.”

“Oh Jay, but I'm here, you won't lose me I promise. Don't ever think you can get rid of your partner so easily.”

“No, no,” he shook his head slightly “You don't understand… I… Shit, you made me worry to death Y/N, I've never been so scared in my entire life, not even during the war, I don’t think I've never had this fucking fear of losing someone so important to me like today.”

Your heart was pounding as he spoke and if you hadn't already been lying on the bed, you probably would’ve passed out.

“Jay…”

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry, I need to finish… I need to tell you how I feel because it's eating me alive, I can't take it anymore.”

“What?” you whispered.

“Pretending I don't feel anything for you, pretending you're just my partner, pretending every time I see you you don’t make me lose every inch of control,” he spat out, “I've thought about telling you this so many times, you deserve so much more than all of this, but I really can't take it anymore. I've been so scared of losing you and never seeing you again and not having the opportunity to tell you everything I feel for you and I'm sorry I'm doing it this way, you probably won't understand anything,” he paused for a second before continuing “I… Y/N… When you called Voight I felt like dying, like a piece of my heart was being ripped out of me, and I know that sounds unbelievable and pathetic but this is just the truth. I've totally lost my mind, I wasn’t able to think straight because all I could do was think of you alone in that damn prison. And when I saw you… God… I think I died and rose and died again within minutes…”

“I thought the worst, I thought I would never see you again, that I would never see your beautiful eyes again and I died inside, the pain that just this thought caused me is not in the least explainable. I can't be without you Y/N, and today I had the confirmation, I can't imagine to exist in a world where you're not a part of and I don't care about the consequences of what I'm saying, that you probably won't feel all the same, that i'm probably ruining the best thing that has ever happened in my life but… I… I fucking love you, I love you like I've never loved anyone else in my life, I love you so much I can't even stand anymore next to you and pretend like nothing’s happening. You entered my mind and my heart in such a deep way I can't do anything anymore without thinking about what it would be like to do it with you and I really don't know how you did it, how you made me fall so madly in love with you,” he spoke, not even realizing what he was saying, “But you are the most important person in my life and I love you to death Y/N, I love everything about you, every single aspect, how you move, how you talk, how you stammer when you're nervous, how you're so clumsy sometimes I even wonder how you hold a gun in your hand, how you smile, how your face lit up when I bring you coffee, how you twirl a strand of hair with your fingers while you're focused, how you nibble on your pen when you're writing a case report, and when you laugh, God, you make me lose my fucking mind…”

You didn't realize the mess you were, the way you were crying. You couldn't believe it, if it had to be a dream you never wanted to wake up. Everything you wanted and ever wanted had just happened.

Jay Halstead loved you, he had feelings for you and God how stupid you felt because you had wasted so much time, time when you could be happy and be together instead of looking at each other from afar and thinking how much you both loved each other.

“Jay… I…”

But before you even had the opportunity to say something and tell him how stupid he was, how much you loved him too, how hard it was for you too to look at him, hug him, thinking he didn't feel the same things you did, but apparently that day fate wasn’t on your side. In fact you heard a knock on the door, which opening revealed the rest of the team who joyfully welcomed you, not realizing what they had actually interrupted.

As much as you loved each member of the team, at the time you cursed them for interrupting you and Jay, who stepped away from you to give the others room to say hello.

He kept his gaze down, standing to the side as he listened to the others talk and try to cheer you up.

A shocked expression appeared on your face when suddenly he left, without saying a single word and without even looking at you and it was in vain to call him.

“What's wrong with him?” Kevin asked, looking at you in confusion like you could answer the question.

“I really don't know,” you sighed, not really knowing what to say and what the hell did just happen.

-> Part Three

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[silveryclear]

LIMBO

Friend belongs to @stnaf-vn

NSFW MDNI all content regarding STNAF and this blog is strictly 18+

Pairings: Friend X GN! Reader

CW: Suggestive themes | Grinding | Dirty dancing | Obsessive behavior

Summary: You and Friend go to a gay club and dance real dirty together

A/N: This song has been stuck in my head for months and I can’t listen to it without imagining Friend dancing and singing the chorus to SH, and this was the end result. Enjoy my self indulgent writing. Happy Pride Month! 🏳️‍🌈

I know you want some more

Bend over baby, touch your toes

Wanna see you drop it low, limbo

The way she look over her shoulder drive me loco

You didn’t know what the fuck you were expecting when you finally agreed to come to the club with Friend, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

There was Friend, in his pink crop top and short glittery pink skirt, grinding his crotch against your clothed ass while he held onto your waist.

How did the two of you end up like this again?

“We should totally go to this new gay club that opened recently, it’ll be fun!” Friend says with a look of excitement on his face.

You, however, are not as excited. “I don’t know… I’m not the type of person that goes to clubs a lot, y’know? It’s just not my scene.” You say, unsurely.

He smiles softly at you and grabs your hands in his. “That’s okay. How about this, we can go have a few drinks, dance a little bit, and as soon as you get uncomfortable, we turn back. How does that sound?”

You ponder over it for a few seconds. “Do you promise not to leave my side?”

Friend smirks mischievously. “Oh, sweetheart…” He purrs in a low voice. “There’s no way in Hell I’m letting you out of my sight~” He winks. Before you could even attempt to ask what he meant by that, you were being gently pushed into your room to get ready.

An hour later you come out of your room with the best club outfit you could conjure form your closet, only to be upstaged by your smoking hot friend who’s sitting on your couch, casually scrolling through his phone as if he didn’t just make you ruin your underwea-

“Sweetheart! You look amazing!” Friend exclaims while his eyes run over your body with a wide grin, making you blush in embarrassment.

“Look who’s talking…” You chuckle, slightly bashful.

Friend raises his eyebrow and smirks arrogantly. “Oh yeah~?” He approaches you slowly, his eyes trained on your fidgeting form. “You think I look good, baby~?” He says in that flirty, teasing tone he always uses when he wants to get a reaction out of you.

And you can’t help but give him exactly the reaction he was expecting as your eyes widen and you start blushing profusely. “S-Shut up! Anyways! Aren’t we going to the club? Let’s leave already!” You don’t give your best friend any time to respond as you march right through the door.

Friend grins and chuckles in amusement as he watches you leave. For a moment, his intense gaze focuses on the way your hips swing slightly as you walk away flustered, and he can’t help the way his cheeks flare up and mouth waters at the sight. He manages to break free from his trance before following right behind you with renewed purpose, anxious to get to the club and use this as an excuse to be as close to you as possible.

The club is in full swing by the time you guys arrive. The place is dark with a very colorful theme as neon lights drowned the room in an array of colors. Music is blaring through the speakers as a crowd gathered on the dance floor, sweaty bodies swaying and grinding against each other to the rhythm. You blush as you realize you had been staring and ask Friend to take you to the bar for a drink. You’re definitely way too sober for this at the moment.

After the first few drinks, you finally feel some of your anxiety slowly begin to fade as you welcome the warm haze and feeling of lightness that the alcohol brings.

“Okay! So, first impressions of the place?” Friend asks you as he sips on his cocktail.

“It’s a little bit much for my tastes, but I like it! It’s actually really nice, and I’m having fun!” You yell over the music, leaning closely towards Friend. You take a quick whiff of his scent as you do and your mind begins to wander off to the same place as it did when you first saw Friend’s outfit.

Friend grins and blushes slightly at the closeness, placing his hand on your waist to keep you close. Your heartbeat picks up. “I’m glad! I knew you’d like it!” He looks over to the dance floor and leans closer to you. “Do you wanna dance~?” He asks into your ear, his warm breath making your shiver.

You snap out of your daze and chuckle. “I’m drunk, but not that drunk!”

“There’s an easy solution for that, sweetheart~” Friend winks before turning towards the bar and asking the bartender for something. Soon, Friend stands before you with a large grin on his face as he holds a shot glass in each hand. “Do you dare~?” He wiggles his eyebrows, teasing you.

You laugh at his goofy behavior and take the shot from his hand. “I dare~” You wink at him.

Friend’s face brightens and he links the arm he’s holding his shot with, with yours. “Ready?”

“Ready!” You exclaim as you both down your shots with your arms linked, hissing as it burns your throat slightly. “Man, I can never get used to that.”

Friend laughs as he grabs your hand and pulls you to the dance floor with him. You tense up as the atmosphere begins to feel rather suffocating with other people’s sweaty bodies bumping into yours and the music blaring loudly from the speakers. Friend notices your discomfort and grabs your hands and pulls you close to him, shielding you from the other dancers.

“Are you alright? Do you want to leave?” Friend says soothingly in your ear as he rubs your back.

You blush slightly at his concern and shake your head, leaning towards his ear. “No, it’s okay. I guess the shot hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Friend chuckles and smiles at you. “Then let’s get you warmed up, shall we~?” He winks before grabbing your hips, a safe distance between the two of you. You can’t help the warmth that grows on your cheeks as he does. Thankfully, it’s just dark enough for it to go unnoticed. “Is this okay?” He asks, making sure you are comfortable with it.

You nod your head and place your hands on his shoulders, not knowing where else to put them. Friend chuckles and looks at you affectionately. “Just follow my lead, yeah?”

Friend begins by moving his hips to the rhythm of the music and gestures for you to do the same. You tense up at first, moving almost robotically, hyperaware of your surrounding. “Just focus on me…” Friend’s smooth voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Don’t look at anyone else, just look at me.” You blush and nod as you let Friend take the lead. His hands on your hips guide you into moving your hips slowly, just enough to get you comfortable with moving them. Soon enough, you’re swaying to the rhythm, giggling as you begin to feel yourself get lost in the music. Friend grins widely as he sees you start to enjoy yourself. He lets go of your hips and watches in awe as you let yourself go completely.

Feeling the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins, you begin to dance like never before. It’s as if your body is on autopilot. It knows where you should place your hands, traveling up your hips, waist and sides as your hips loosen even further. It knows when the beat is perfect to shake your ass to, and when to drop it down low and pick it up slowly, sensually. And it knows when someone grabs you from behind to join you.

Friend had barely danced himself when he became enthralled by your display. Eyes glued on your ethereal body, he felt himself grow hard at the way your body moved perfectly to the rhythm. There is something so raw and enticing about watching the person you’ve been obsessed with for most of your life, who rarely relaxes, just cut loose completely. Friend felt that he was gazing at a new side of you, one that is vulnerable and so unapologetically you that he couldn’t bring himself to tear away from you. With this realization, his possessiveness grew, and he knew that if he could be absolutely mesmerized by you, then so could others. Other people were already staring and looking to approach you. Before any of them had a chance, he takes a hold of your hips and pulls into him, letting out a growl and glaring menacingly.

Absolutely consumed by the music, you barely reacted when you felt familiar hands grab your waist from behind, thumbs rubbing circles on your exposed skin. He growls lowly, pressing his front against your back as if to exert his claim over you to the rest of the gawkers. He leans his head forward, his voice low and sexually charged as he whispers in your ear, “Is this okay~?”

You can only answer with a nod as all words had died in your throat as soon as he grabbed your waist. Your body pressed against his toned, strong one left you breathless as you become hyper aware of your best friend. Had Friend always been this strong? The way he held onto you only spurred your body further as you take the initiative and move your body against his. You blush once you heard him chuckle in amusement as he began to move against you.. You gasped, holding onto his bare thighs as he slowly ground his hips against your ass. His skirt and your bottoms skimpy enough to feel the outline of his half hard cock brushing against your cheeks over them.

Oh fuck. You were in trouble. With the last thread of self control snapping from the arousing sensation of his dick grinding on your ass, you grabbed onto the nape of his neck as you ground your ass back onto him.

I know you want some more

Bend over baby, touch your toes

Wanna see you drop it low, limbo

The way she look over her shoulder drive me loco

Friend let out a low groan behind you and whispered seductively in your ear. “That’s it, baby… Just focus on me…” You couldn’t help the shiver that coursed through your body as you recall the words he had whispered soothingly before are now being uttered in such a lustful way that they changed meanings completely. You let out an involuntary moan.

Friend grins widely, your sounds and movements only feeding into his obsession for you. “You like that, sweetheart~?” He chuckles darkly. “Follow my lead~”

As soon as he said that, you were bent forward as one of his hands held onto your shoulder and the other one gripped your hip tightly. The new position had you feeling flustered and exposed, but all worries were washed away as soon as Friend’s hips ground against your clothed sex. You bit your lip and moved your hips in sync with Friend’s, the sexually charged atmosphere only fueling your bodies into becoming more daring.

Friend was already going crazy with the way your body desperately grinds against his, as well as your eagerness to follow and please him. He was already thinking about taking you home, let the drive over sober you up before finishing what you both started. But when you look over shoulder, lips parted and panting heavily, and half lidded eyes filled with lust trained on him as you kept moving… he almost came right there.

He growled and pulled you back against him, turning you to face him, his lustful gaze hiding something more primal in the depths. “Is there something you’ve been meaning to tell me, sweetheart~?” He says in your ear, holding you tightly against him as if you have no other choice but to answer.

With liquid courage still coursing through your veins you blurt out, “I like you.”

This surprises Friend as he didn’t expect you to admit it so easily, but he doesn’t complain and instead, leans closer as he holds your chin. “I like you too~” He places a soft kiss on your lips and pull back, grinning at your flustered expression. “I really want us to finish this dance… alone~” He purrs and whisperers in your ear. “Can we~?”

Your frantic nods aren’t enough to express just how much you want this to happen, how much you’ve been craving your best friend since this afternoon.

You didn’t know what the fuck you were expecting when you finally agreed to come to the club with Friend, but it sure as hell wasn’t this~

#Spotify #yandere #fanfic #stnaf #friend x reader #stnaf friend #stnafgame #yandere writing #yandere x reader #gender netural #​💾​ see thru need a friend game

[verona2314]

Judgment of the Damned (translation) PART XII

Link part XI

Summary:

In the realm of Limbo, where souls deemed too good for Hell but not virtuous enough for Heaven reside, Victoria finds herself thrust into an unprecedented mission. When a notorious sinner, Sir Pentious, achieves redemption and ascends to Heaven, it sends shockwaves through all realms. Tasked with unraveling this mystery, Victoria, a minor judge of souls, is sent to the infamous Hazbin Hotel in Hell. For the first time, an emissary from Limbo steps foot into the fiery depths, tasked with observing and judging the denizens of Hell for their potential for redemption. As Victoria navigates this unfamiliar territory, she captures the unrequired attention of the enigmatic Radio Demon, Alastor. Amidst the chaos of demonic antics and the pursuit of understanding redemption, Victoria must confront her own beliefs and judgments. As she delves deeper into the secrets of the Hazbin Hotel, Victoria uncovers hidden truths about sinners, redemption, and the ultimate fate of souls caught between damnation and salvation. With each soul she encounters, Victoria's journey becomes not only a quest for answers but a personal voyage of self-discovery in the heart of darkness.

Chapter 12: The Silence Within

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Adrian 

The city's alleyways, dark and narrow, exuded an aura of danger and unease. Yet, for Adrian, they were a familiar refuge, a protective cloak that had shielded him from countless precarious situations since his arrival in this hell. Today, however, these very alleyways became the stage for disloyalty, lies, and guilt. They were the perfect hiding place to keep his rendezvous with the mysterious hooded figure a secret.

Adrian had no idea if this person was male or female, and he didn't even care. The only thing that mattered to him was the promise they had made. The first time they crossed paths, shortly before he met the judge, they offered him a chance to try an ocher-colored liquid contained in a small vial, assuring him it was the best drug he would ever experience. Curiosity got the better of him. After all, he had experimented with all sorts of substances during his life: ecstasy, cocaine, morphine, etc. Drugs had always been his downfall, and it seemed he hadn't learned his lesson.

Now, he sought more than just a simple dose. He needed to feel that sense of fulfillment again, the one the ocher drug had given him. It wasn't a frenzied euphoria but a deep peace, a feeling of being in heaven, in an eternal rest without worries or pain, only... happiness.

Curiously, the stranger didn't ask for money in return, but favors. The first had been to steal the judge's ring. That day, after slipping away from the fight, the mysterious person handed him another vial and instructed him that if he wanted another dose, he had to find a way into the hotel and let anyone who wanted to see Victoria in. This is how he decided to help the radio demon bring her honor back to the hotel. These requests seemed like simple tasks, on the surface. The problem was that Adrian had grown fond of the judge. He even admired her, for she had only shown a big heart accompanied by great willpower and witt. On top of that, he had gradually gained the friendship of the hotel members, who had welcomed him with open arms.

As he awaited the arrival of his mysterious supplier, Adrian's inner turmoil reached a crossroads. The promise of the happiness the drug induced tempted him, but his loyalty to the judge and his new friends held him back. His heart was torn between betrayal and redemption, between the pursuit of fleeting pleasure and the construction of an honest existence.

The guilt was almost unbearable, but life in hell was intolerable for him, and he saw no other escape from his harsh reality. Was redemption possible? Charlie and the judge believed in it. He too longed to fall into that beautiful illusion and dream of ascending to heaven. But... could someone like him aspire to that?

"You're early," a neutral voice said. Adrian instantly recognized the mysterious hooded figure.

"I fulfilled your order. I managed to get into the hotel and an hour ago I let an Overlord in. Zestial," Adrian replied, crossing his arms, with a mix of pride and unease.

"I know. Good work, Adrian," the enigmatic person replied, tossing him the vial. With trembling hands, Adrian took the vial in mid-air and rushed to open it to drink its contents. However, he suddenly stopped and looked his supplier in the eyes.

"You're not going to hurt the judge, are you?" he asked in a whisper, fighting against the fear that consumed him.

"Oh, little Adrian," the figure said with a sadistic voice. "Did you get attached? Do you see a mother figure in her? Don't waste your time feeling guilty. You already betrayed her. Didn't you? Besides, you should feel proud. You're becoming part of something much bigger than your insignificant existence."A chill ran down Adrian's spine. The mysterious figure was serious,"But if you want, I can end your pain right now," the figure continued, slowly pulling a dagger from the sleeve of their black robe. "After all, my little weapon is made of celestial steel. You've done so much for me that I wouldn't mind showing you a little... mercy."

"There's no need. I understand already," Adrian replied, sighing as he pretended to be calm. "Do you need anything else from me?"

The mysterious person let out a slightly disturbing laugh before answering, "Oh, this is just the beginning."

Vaggie

After managing to calm Niffty down, without Alastor's help as he had vanished after speaking with the tiny lady, she decided to look for Charlie to inform her that the situation was under control. After a few minutes of searching, she found her in their room, sitting by the window, lost in thought. Vaggie couldn't help but feel worried, as a shroud of unease had enveloped the princess of hell since her conversation with the judge.

"Is everything okay?" Vaggie asked softly, sitting down beside her.

"Yes, everything is fine," Charlie replied, forcing a smile. "Were you able to sort out Niffty?"

"Angel gave her a book and that calmed her down," Vaggie explained. "I didn't want to ask about the content, but Angel said one of the main characters was a very bad boy."They both looked at each other and shared a smile. However, Vaggie couldn't help but notice the worry in Charlie's eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay? I don't want to pressure you, but it's strange that you didn't want to help with Niffty. Plus, you seem... discouraged."

"I'd love to be able to talk about this, but I can't, Vaggie," Charlie replied, looking down.

Vaggie smiled and gently took her chin to direct her eyes towards her,"You don't have to go into details. But I'm here for you," she reassured her, stroking her cheek tenderly. Vaggie couldn't help but feel that the judge's arrival was constantly causing Charlie to feel uneasy.

"Thank you, Vaggie," Charlie said. "I don't know what decision to make. There's some information that I can access that will answer a lot of questions I have, but it could also change my life forever and I don't know if I'm ready to face these hidden truths. It's my responsibility as princess of hell, but I don't feel prepared for this weight and I don't know if I ever will be. What if this truth makes me question everything I've ever believed in and fought for? What if I can't achieve anything even with this information? Victoria has faith in me and gave me time to think, which is comforting. But I still feel lost."

Vaggie's heart sank as she observed the confusion in Charlie's eyes. She understood the weight of the decision that rested on her beloved's shoulders, and the fear that was taking hold of her soul. With a gentle touch, Vaggie took Charlie's face in her hands, her eyes filled with unwavering support and love,"Charlie," Vaggie said, her voice soft and comforting, "I know this choice isn't easy. The path you're on is riddled with uncertainty, and the weight of the responsibility you carry is immense. But remember, you're not alone on this journey. I'm here for you, every step of the way. No matter how daunting or unsettling this information may be. The truth has the power to liberate your spirit and guide you towards a brighter future. Embrace it, Charlie, not with fear, but with unwavering conviction in your strength and determination. I understand the fear of losing your faith, of questioning everything you've ever held dear. But true faith is not blind adherence to beliefs, but an unwavering conviction in your values, even in the face of adversity. Trust your intuition. Your heart is a compass that guides you towards the right path. And never forget that you possess an inner strength that surpasses any obstacle. I believe in you, Charlie, with all my heart. And more importantly, you're not alone in this. You have me and everyone in this hotel to whom you've given something to believe in."

Charlie's eyes welled up with tears, touched by Vaggie's words. The former exterminator hugged her tenderly, snuggling together in a loving gesture."Thank you, Vaggie," Charlie whispered, her voice full of gratitude. "Your words mean a lot to me. You're right, I won't let fear stop me. I'll face the truth, no matter how hard it is. And I'll do it with you by my side," her girlfriend replied, giving her a tender kiss on the lips and then taking her by the shoulders and looking at her with complete motivation. "Let's go get that diary now!" "Which diary?" Vaggie asked just before the princess of Hell took her hand and dragged her through the hotel corridors with firm and determined steps. The former exterminator had many doubts in her mind, but for now, she was content to see the spark of happiness and challenge in Charlie's eyes.

Finally, they stopped in front of the judge's room door. Vaggie could see how the princess of Hell took a deep breath as she looked uncertainly at the doorknob. She decided to give her hand a gentle squeeze to encourage her. Charlie smiled and nodded, letting go of her hand. With a determined impulse, she swung the door open.

"JUDGE! I'VE MADE A DECISION AND I..." Charlie exclaimed with a firm voice, before falling absolutely silent and closing the door again.

"What happened?" Vaggie asked, confused and worried.

"Don't go in there," the princess of Hell murmured with flushed cheeks. "I think I interrupted something."

Vaggie frowned, intrigued by Charlie's sudden shyness. What had she interrupted in the judge's room?

Victoria

"What do you mean?"asked Alastor, showing some curiosity." Victoria looked at him for a moment, feeling somewhat calmer. She still didn't understand why the radio host had gotten so upset. Did his own interests concern him that much? She decided to respond while keeping calm "My job, Alastor. Remember that I'm here to determine if there are redeemable souls here. I hope that this investigation ends with a staggering number of salvageable souls and thus achieves a change in the system, an improvement. For that, I need to have information on as many souls as possible. And I don't just mean the story of their lives. For that, I could simply lock myself in the Limbo archive. I need to know their motivations, the source of their decisions, every introspection they've made since their arrival in hell, their reflections, hopes, and shattered dreams. I need to know the depth of their hearts." "So, is Zestial just a pawn in your larger game?"The Overlord questioned her." "Victoria nodded, smiling. She had finally managed to convey to her interlocutor that there was no need to worry. She didn't like to think of people as pieces in a game, but her kindness to Zestial was due to the need to learn about the story of the ancient being and start her work. She had already lost a lot of time, and the opportunity was too good to miss, as it was not usual to be able to have a private conversation with the lords of hell. Her determination was clear,"I hate to call it a game, but yes. Zestial is just one of the many players on this board. My goal is to gather as much information as possible to make informed decisions about the fate of these souls. To truly make a change. There are many things I don't agree with in this system,"He explained with honesty. There was no longer any point in holding back,"I can't afford to overlook any opportunity to obtain valuable information, even if it means playing the role Zestial has for me. You must understand that to achieve this, I must be open with the souls of this place and show a genuine interest in them, something I truly have. I'm not here just for the Supreme Judges; I'm here for myself and for my ideals."

At that moment, Alastor let out a small laugh as he stared at her intently. Confusion seized her mind."Don't misunderstand me, my dear judge. I'm not mocking you,”The radio host explained, seemingly noticing her confusion," I just find it incredible how, despite being so different, having such divergent goals, we both long for something greater. The pursuit of power and knowledge, the need to challenge the limits imposed on us. Darling, you want to challenge the status quo, playing this game to achieve your goals. Your methods may not resemble mine, but whether you like it or not, you and I are not so different. Victoria watched as the radio demon leaned on his cane while smiling broadly with a sense of satisfaction. Alastor's words struck her mind, and her initial instinct was to deny the claims. However, she couldn't seem to find any argument to contradict his statements. Could it be true that, beneath the surface, they shared a similar determination, an innate impulse to challenge norms and seek something beyond the established? It was true that she longed for something beyond the ordinary, something different from written rules. Alastor claimed to have that same impulse. Were they really a reflection of each other but motivated by a different moral compass? But her pursuit of justice and redemption was different from the radio host's unchecked ambition.

Alastor smiled at her with a certain complexity, and Victoria felt her stomach churn as surprise invaded her face. The radio host was a demon who enjoyed chaos and entertainment. He was someone who sought personal satisfaction without thinking about the consequences. She, on the other hand, did not. How was it possible that they were alike if their motivations were so different? Why did his words intrigue her so much? Why did his charisma and intelligence evoke respect and admiration in her?

Amidst all this internal conflict, Victoria had to admit that Alastor was right about one thing. Both of them desired change and to go beyond what was expected of them. "Perhaps you're right," the judge responded, looking away as a sense of realization washed over her.

"Don't be so surprised, my dear judge. After all, we are two forces sharing a determination that defies established norms. Beings like us always strive for something, be it power, knowledge, justice, or simply freedom.

Victoria listened attentively to those words. There was an uncomfortable truth that she couldn't deny. Deep down, the judge longed for more than just justice. She sought a change in the system, a transformation that went beyond the individual redemption of sinners.

She sighed and smiled faintly. She could understand that Alastor saw her as a reflection of himself, but that wouldn't make her stray from her path, for her goal was justice and a better system, not personal glory or entertainment. The smile of the radio demon, both intriguing and unsettling, seemed to want to challenge Victoria's perception of herself. Could she trust the words of someone so cunning and manipulative, or was it just another trick in his endless game of deceit? Finally, she decided to take the risk."I find it hard to admit that you understand me more than I thought. I thought there would be mockery or disdain from your part. You're more insightful than I had anticipated. Perhaps this camaraderie you seek is a good idea."

"My dear judge, I'm glad you understand," Alastor said in a cold voice, "but for that, it's crucial that there are no secrets between us," he continued, taking her chin so she wouldn't look away. "Tell me, Victoria. Why do you bleed red?"

Victoria could feel Alastor's warm hand firmly gripping her face, taken aback by the coldness in the radio host's voice. She furrowed her brow, trying to process the question. "What are you talking about?" she said, trying to find a way out of this situation. In response, Alastor leaned in, narrowing his eyes.

"Don't try to deny it, Victoria. You stained my precious coat with your bloody cough," Alastor responded, irritated. "Aren't you supposed to, beings of Limbo, have silver-colored blood?" Victoria truly couldn't comprehend what was going through the radio demon's mind, but she was sure that she couldn't reveal her secret. That would make her vulnerable. "I don't deny it. Yes. My blood is red. Thank you for letting me know you're not colorblind," she replied sarcastically.

"Victoria," the red demon retorted, pressing his fingers more firmly. She looked him in the eye challengingly, and the radio host's smile widened. "Don't be naughty, darling. You know what I mean."

"I thought you would have realized by now that I don't wish to disclose that information, Alastor. Not to you, nor to anyone," Victoria pointed out, lightly poking the demon's ribs with her index finger, causing slight tickling that loosened his grip, allowing Victoria to free her face. Alastor looked at her with a mixture of indignation and surprise. "Did you just... tickle me?" the radio host asked incredulously.

"Yes. And now, I kindly ask that you refrain from further discussion on the matter, or else you'll have to leave the room," she concluded confidently. Victoria kept her voice calm but firm. Alastor's pupils gleamed as his eyes darkened. It was evident that her interlocutor was getting annoyed. The judge got up from the bed and walked towards the door. "It would be best if I leave my room so you can calm down, since evidently, you're not making any attempt to leave."

Just as the judge reached for the doorknob, she felt Alastor's hand on her shoulder, turning her somewhat roughly before firmly grasping her wrist. The radio demon had lost patience with her evasiveness, and the frustration caused by her refusals seemed to have reached its limit. Victoria didn't want to get into a conflict, especially considering that she hadn't fully recovered yet, so she decided to use her knowledge in self-defense to leverage Alastor's grip against him and bring him down. However, Victoria didn't notice that he still had his cane nearby, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground beside him.

"Why do I always end up on the floor when we argue?" she complained, raising her gaze. At that moment, her eyes landed on Alastor's cane. It was broken. Fear ran down her spine. This couldn't be good. Without a second thought, she tried to get up, but the radio host quickly grabbed her ankle and dragged her towards him as he got up on his knees, leaving her beneath him. Victoria turned herself around to face him, placing her knee on his chest to try to push him off, but Alastor responded by placing his hand on her shoulder, pressing her against the ground.”Fine! I'm sorry I broke your cane!,”she exclaimed irritably, closing her eyes. There was a moment of silence before Alastor sighed.

"It was already broken. I haven't been able to fix it completely yet," Alastor confessed, shaking his head before looking at her again. Victoria could notice that his eyes had returned to normal, but his voice still sounded annoyed.

"Ah, I see. Anyway, I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention," she repeated, relieved.

"Well…" he chuckled, his voice regaining its signature smoothness," Seems we both got a little carried away, wouldn't you agree, my dear judge?." Alastor's laughter echoed through the room, the tension dissipating like smoke in the air. Victoria, still lying on the floor beneath him, couldn't help but crack a smile. Alastor's sudden shift from menacing to playful was as disarming as it was confusing.

"Indeed, Alastor," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "It seems we both have a penchant for the dramatic."

At that moment, the door to the room swung open”JUDGE! I'VE MADE A DECISION AND I…,”Charlie exclaimed with a firm voice, before falling completely silent and looking at them with utter amazement, then quickly shutting the door.

Alastor's amusement, momentarily forgotten, gave way to a flicker of annoyance. He glanced at the closed door, then back at Victoria with a raised eyebrow.  There was a hint of exasperation on his face. 

"Well, well, well," he drawled, his voice regaining its signature showmanship,"looks like our little...debate got interrupted." He rose from his kneeling position slowly, extending a hand to help Victoria up. His earlier frustration had completely vanished, replaced by a playful curiosity and amusement. 

"Not now, Alastor. I must talk with Charlie right now…seems the Princess has some rather... interesting ideas about our little discussion,'" she retorted, a hint of sarcasm lacing her voice, "Perhaps it's best if we… table this discussion for now." Victoria stared at Alastor outstretched hand, her mind racing. She knew she couldn't keep her secret forever, but she wasn't ready to reveal it just yet. She took a deep breath and placed her hand in his and the red demon pulled her to her feet. Alastor chuckled. "Indeed," he agreed, a mischievous glint in his eyes,” though, one can hardly blame her for jumping to conclusions, considering the... unorthodox position we find ourselves in, my dear Victoria." "There's nothing unorthodox about it," she insisted, her voice firm.  "I simply… lost my balance because of your damn cane."She replied, averting her gaze.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "Is that so?" he questioned, his voice dripping with amusement."Perhaps you should be more careful, my dear judge.  One wouldn't want to give the Princess the wrong impression, now would we?"

Victoria rolled her eyes. Alastor was enjoying this far too much. She knew he was deliberately twisting the situation to get a rise out of her.

"Anyway, judge, are you sure you want to pause this conversation? We both know this isn't over.  The red stain… it demands an explanation."Alastor insisted.

"And I've already told you, I'm not at liberty to discuss it."Victoria replied, brushing off her clothes, speaking calmly, gradually regaining his usual composure.

"Not at liberty?  Or simply unwilling to trust me?" the radio demon said as he leaned in closer with a charming smile.

The very idea of trusting him sent a shiver down her spine. Alastor was powerful, unpredictable, and his motives were always shrouded in self-interest. There was no way she could trust him with her secret, not yet. "That's not the point," she insisted, "This is about my privacy. You don't have the right to pry into my personal affairs." she pointed, trying to steer the conversation away

Alastor's eyes narrowed "Don't be naive, Victoria," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "In this business, secrets are liabilities. And liabilities can be… detrimental to partnerships."

"Then perhaps,"She said, losing her patience a bit,"we should reconsider this partnership altogether."

The air crackled with tension. The radio host stared at her for a long, tense moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a sigh that seemed to shake the very room, he tilted his head. "Very well, Victoria, there's no need to go that far," he said, his voice regaining a semblance of its usual smoothness."We shall postpone this... discussion for another time. But remember, secrets have a way of coming out,  and when they do…"  He trailed off, a dangerous glint in his eyes.  "The consequences can be…  unpleasant."

"I understand, Alastor. But I really don't want to share this information. It's dangerous for my integrity," she responded with complete honesty, looking down. She knew her reluctance would only increase Alastor's suspicions and the chances of him meddling in her affairs. "I'm sorry, but I simply can't tell you... yet."

Alastor began to walk towards the door, turning his back to her, and just before leaving the room, he sighed. "Victoria, I admire your courage in defending your secret. You're undoubtedly a strong and irritatingly stubborn woman who has a knack for frustrating me and testing my patience. Your willpower is something I respect. But don't fool yourself, your reluctance only fuels my curiosity. Your secret is something that deeply intrigues me, and I can't help but feel that it has the potential to change the course of our alliance. So, I warn you: sooner or later, I'll find a way to uncover the truth."

"I know," Victoria said with a small smile. "I wouldn't expect any less from you. I assure you that when the time comes, I'll be ready to tell you."

Alastor glanced at her over his shoulder for a few seconds. "Get well soon, Victoria," he said in a neutral tone, holding the parts of his cane. "Your interview is waiting for you," the radio demon concluded before leaving the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TAGLIST!!

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#fanfic #alastor #alastor x oc #oc #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel 2024 #radio demon #vivziepop #charlie morningstar #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel fandom

[onebatch2batch]

@dogsjaw requested "frank is an insomniac and spends sleepless nights drawing karen while she’s in bed. she finds the sketchbook tucked beneath the mattress one day while he’s out at work" and....this happened. i miss them so much ugh

[ao3 link]

--

The first time Frank Castle found himself in Karen Page’s bed, there hadn’t been much sleep involved. Even months later he still remembers how perfect that first night together was. After they finally figured it all out, that is. (Which, to be fair, was mostly due to him and his thick fucking skull. Karen had his number from day one, it just took a while of raging at the world for him to realize that he had hers, too. He looked around one day, post-carousel, post-Billy, post-Amy and the hospital, post-make it mean something and realized Karen was right, that night by the river. When she told him he was lonely, everyone was lonely. She was right. So he stretched his floriography muscles and found that “white tulips, in particular, symbolize forgiveness, honor, consideration and respect, making them the perfect apology flower” and showed up on her doorway with them in hand.

He was half convinced that she would punch him when she opened the door and while he definitely would have deserved it, he didn’t complain when she calmly set the flowers on the entry table and yanked him into a hungry, breath-stealing kiss instead.)

And now all these months later, he lays on his side of their bed and stares at the ceiling, waiting for his exhaustion to finally pull him under. He’s never been an easy sleeper. As a young father he was up at all hours with the babies, and then the military fucked his night schedule to hell, and then all the rest of that shit that came at him like a goddamn freight train and he really hasn’t had much rest since. So this limbo between sleeping and waking isn’t unusual, and he lets his eyes roam while he tries to chase away the memories keeping him from sleep. 

The room is not completely dark. Karen keeps one of those big pink salt lamps on in the bathroom at all times with the door cracked enough to see by. The effect is a calming, warm glow that illuminates the bedroom. (“I’m not afraid of the dark,” Karen had said when he asked, “I just want to be able to open my eyes and…and know where I am. If I wake up, I mean.” And he had–fuck, they’re so similar, because of course he could relate to that after everything.) So when his eyes inevitably land on Karen, sleeping peacefully at his side, he’s able to see the soft rising and fall of her chest as she breathes. Her hair is mussed slightly, spilling out over her pillow. It’s still amazing that he knows the exact texture of that hair, that he knows what it looks like fresh out of the shower, that he can reach out and touch it now if he likes. He doesn’t, though. His gaze trails across her relaxed expression, and he wonders if she is dreaming. What does she dream of? She’s never said and he’s never asked, but right now he’s desperate to know. Desperate to be sure that all her dreams are good ones. 

Frank turns more fully towards her and as he does, the blanket inches down her torso and exposes more of her to the soft light of the room. Her skin is smooth and unmarred, such a contrast to his own scarred body that it steals his breath. Tonight she’s gone to bed without putting her pajamas back on and her chest is bare to him, nipples peaked in the cool air. Despite his exhaustion, his body makes a valiant effort at stirring that he studiously ignores. Just because he’s awake doesn’t mean she has to be. 

He looks back into her face: the smooth plane of her jaw, the fullness of her lips, long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. He’s immeasurably grateful for the nightlight in the bathroom, giving him this opportunity to look at her until it calms the prowling thing in his gut. It isn’t quite tempered to sleep yet, and he expects it won’t be for a long while, so after a while of simply watching her sleep, he turns and reaches for his e-reader on the nightstand. (It was a gift from Karen for his birthday. Knowing how restless his nights are and how prone he is to reading in the semi-dark, she’d purchased him something that allows him to read and not damage his eyes, and the gift had made his entire body feel weightless with gratitude and love.) He presses the button to turn it on and frowns when he sees the low battery message.  

Karen finds it enormously funny that despite his attention to detail, despite his keen observation skills, he is unable to keep technology charged. His phone is constantly a call from dying on him and his e-reader–despite how much he loves the ease of using it–is usually victim to the same fate. So now he’s unable to sleep, the world is quiet, and he’ll have to go hunting for a damn charger on top of that. 

Frank sets it back down on the nightstand with another annoyed frown, deciding searching for his charger right now isn’t worth the effort, and a pad of paper there catches his eye. The top page is a small list of honey-do projects he’s been meaning to work on around the apartment: the leaky faucet, new locks on the windows, hanging a canvas Karen brought home from a street fair last week. Just small things he knows Karen would never ask for, but that he’s happy to do for her. He picks up the paper and draws idly in the corner, reading over the list again for anything he’s missed. Nothing comes to mind, and he’s distracted when Karen shifts beside him and settles again on her back, one arm thrown over up above her head and the other curled between them as if she is reaching out. She makes a small noise in her sleep and then goes still again. Like this, the blankets drawn down to her waist, he’s given a better view of the slopes and valleys of her shoulders, her collarbone, her breasts, her hips. 

His mouth dries slightly. Jesus, she’s so gorgeous that it’s almost painful. Like a living work of art, something he never gets tired of looking at. Before he can stop himself, he turns to a fresh page of the notepad and carefully, reverently, begins to draw. 

–

Karen returns home from work on an unseasonably warm Friday in March and kicks her heels off, eyeing the state of the apartment as she does. It’s been a ridiculously busy week for them both; Frank has been working extra hours at work after he had someone quit suddenly and she’s been working on a case with Matt and Foggy for what seems like forever without pause. The apartment has become a bit of a danger zone in deference to their schedules and she’d taken a half day to come home and clean up, simply because she knows the mess makes Frank anxious. And because she needs a freaking break from reading anything having to do with a court case. 

So she goes into the bedroom, changes into her leggings and one of Frank’s annoyingly soft t-shirts (why are none of her shirts this soft? Is it a requirement for all womens’ clothes to be uncomfortable?) and begins to clean. She starts in the kitchen with the pile of dishes, wipes down the counters, and sweeps the floors. In the living room she puts away the miscellaneous detritus from the week–books, papers from work, jackets over the back of the couch, empty coffee mugs–and straightens the couch cushions. She dusts the bookshelf and the television screen, and then moves on to the bedroom: she picks clothes up off the floor and throws them into the hamper. She begins a load of laundry, then sets about making the bed. The nightstand on her side gets straightened and she glances at his in consideration. She should probably plug in his Kindle–god knows he hasn’t recently, and it’s probably on its last legs. The thought warms her with how ridiculously domestic it is; the Karen of even a year ago would be dizzy at the thought of Frank keeping something like an e-reader at her apartment, let alone the fact that he lives there. At one point she was convinced that he would stay away forever and she would get old and gray, regretting the fact that she didn’t fight harder for him. But here he is, sharing closet space and cooking them dinner when he doesn’t get home too late. Using the second nightstand to store his books and a gun and making…what is that, a to do list?

She picks up the notepad beneath his Kindle and reads over it. There’s a few crossed off items that look familiar, and she realizes these are all chores that she's been putting off around the apartment. She has noticed him doing them, of course, and has shown her gratitude for his help, but she didn’t realize he’s been following a literal checklist. 

“Frank Castle,” she murmurs, shaking her head, and flips the page to see what else he’s been working on. 

There, instead of a chore list, is a sketch. A sketch of her. 

She has no idea when he would have done this, but it’s a drawing of her in her sleep so it had to have been during the night at some point. She’s lying on her bed, lips parted slightly, and breasts bare and blanket puddled around her wait. The sketch is—I mean, it’s actually incredible. That’s her face, her beauty mark, her collarbone. If Frank has never had lessons, he’s got some real artistic talent. 

She flips the page. Another sketch of her asleep, this time curled on her side and smiling. She didn’t know that she smiled in her sleep. 

The next page, and the next—on it goes, a dozen or more sketches of varying poses and expressions. In some she’s a vague form; in others she’s been drawn down to the individual hairs of her eyebrows. But they’re all her. 

Something wells up in her, large and fluttering and wild. She looks at all of his drawings, each a raw and honest image captured by his steady hand, and realizes there has never been and never will be anyone else who loves her like Frank Castle. And there has never been and will never be anyone that she loves like Frank Castle. She wants to spend each day waking up with him at her side, and each night knowing he’s under the same bedspread, reading or drawing until he is calm enough to sleep. 

Karen gently folds back the pages until she’s looking at the list again, and then she carefully returns his nightstand as it was. 

“Frank Castle,” she whispers again, awed and reverent, and turns to finish her cleaning. 

—

Last he checked, it was barely 2:30 in the morning when he picked up his notepad and pencil and began to sketch. Over the course of the last few weeks he’s gotten pretty decent at drawing Karen, if he says so himself, although he can never quite capture that radiance he sees whenever he looks at her. That feeling of home that seems to leak from her pores. There’s just always something missing no matter how often he looks at her between strikes of his pencil. 

He’s especially exhausted today. Work has been hellish, physically demanding, and all he wants is to close his eyes and slink off into a dreamless sleep. But there’s too much anxiety thrumming through him to do much but draw. So that’s what he does, the curves of his subject as familiar as the back of his hand. At some point, deep in his concentration, he glances up in the soft bathroom light to clock the angle of Karen’s shoulder and goes still. She’s looking back at him. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, fighting the ridiculous urge to hide the notepad in his hands. 

“Hey,” she responds quietly, voice thick with sleep. “Insomnia?”

What a word. Insomnia, like it’s some condition instead of the rambling voices in his head, coming at him from every angle to upset the small peace he’s finally found. Like it’s not his fault that his anxiety eats him up from the inside until all semblance of sleep runs for the hills. “Guess so,” he answers finally, although he begs to differ.

Karen props herself up on an elbow, but doesn’t bother to lean over and see what he’s working on. “They’re really good, you know. Your drawings.”

A small smile yanks at his mouth unbidden. “You saw, huh?”

She has the decency to look a little chastised. “Just by accident. Kind of.”

He chuckles, setting the notepad aside. “Ah, well. Thanks. Got a good subject, that’s all.”

The roll of her eyes is familiar and sends a pang of affection through him. “Whatever. I didn’t know you could draw like that.”

“Me either. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

She lays back down but keeps her eyes on him. There’s a twist to her expression, something sad and yearning. “I love that you have an outlet but…I wish you could sleep.”

Frank reaches over and touches a thumb to her cheekbone, drawing it over her skin gently. Just this small caress relaxes some of the tension from his shoulders. “Tell you the truth, me too. I’m fucking beat, Karen.”

“What’s stopping you?”

They haven’t really broached this subject, past her initial concern about his odd hours. Since then he’s gone to bed with her and been sure to be at her side when she wakes, if only to belay her worries a little. But it’s been a week of especially shitty sleep on top of everything else and he’s too tired to hide this feeling from her. He gestures upwards with a shrug and it feels a monumental effort. “Too loud up here.”

After all this time he can read her expressions like a book, and right now it’s I have an idea and I don’t know if you’re going to like it, but just trust me. “Can we try something?”

He raises a brow. “Gonna make some warm milk?”

She huffs. “No, smartass. Lay down and face that way.”

Not quite what he was expecting, but he trusts her with his life. It’s nothing to put his head to the pillow and follow her directions, turning his back to her. He waits curiously, listening to the shuffling behind him. 

Karen’s body comes in contact with his. Her front presses up against the line of his back, her knees coming up behind his as she spoons him from behind. Heat radiates into his spine, loosening the tension there as her arm drapes over him. When she settles, her chest pushing against him with every breath, he can feel the slow and sure beat of her heart. 

“There,” she murmurs into his shoulder. “How’s that?”

And he feels…

Grounded. Safe. Loved. 

“Good,” he says softly, grasping her hand against his sternum desperately. “Yeah, feels good.”

He can practically feel her smile, pressed into his skin. “Good. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he tells her, the open room, the air between them. Anything and everything that can hear him. 

And he sleeps.

#kastle #frank castle #the punisher #karen page #kastle fic #kastle ff #my writing

[eduardo200012]

Repurpose Swap au

(Warning: This Au was created before part 2 was released, so no Cherry and Feya yet, and some spoilers)

Basically in this Au, the human love interests turn into demons or angels and the demon and angel love interests turn into humans, but the MC is still human

Kalei: A great believer with a good heart who probably went to church every day, was extremely confused when he died and woke up in the garden with the others. He chose Utopia and didn't even consider going to hell, he had a fight with Ramon when they were exploring limbo. His route in this universe would begin when Kalei and the MC share the room and would involve his insecurities about not being able to enter Utopia, a route very similar to Rosita from the original but with the difference that Kalei manages to enter Utopia.

Ramón: A seductive man and cult leader, Ramon really thought he would be tortured in hell when he died in prison, imagine her surprise when he wakes up in Jardin do Limbo and near his ex-girlfriend who had died. Ramon knows he will never enter utopia and doesn't understand why the world is giving him a chance to do that, after he goes to hell together with the MC. His route would involve him questioning himself and why he is having a good life even though he was a bad cult leader. In this route, Ramon would definitely jump a lot between being a charismatic seducer and someone who is having an existential crisis, being a very slow romance with the MC.

DJRK: Fallen Angel, they did not agree with the way Utopia got into several fights with the Choir (Especially Dominio) which caused them to be expelled to Limbo, becoming the guardian of the residents there. DJ would be more impulsive to this universe, trying to protect all those who wanted to make limbo a home. They are definitely the type of people who are always saying they can handle it but are very close to breaking mentally. On this route, Mc will definitely have to be very responsible to deal with them.

Mitts: An extremely creative angel who is passionate about technology, probably always talking to humans about how technology on earth has changed so that she can increasingly improve Utopia technologically. She is the teleporter and responsible for helping humans enter Utopia with the help of her technology. On this route the MC will help Mitts to help others, at some point Dominio will appear saying that the results are not acceptable and that Mitts' technologies are more of a hindrance than a help. In short, in this route, the MC must help Mitts prove to Dominion that her technology is beneficial to Utopia's interests.

Rosita: A Demon that is responsible for convincing as many humans as possible to choose hell over utopia. Let's say everyone was surprised that this honey bun was a demon and not an angel. She also owns a restaurant that resembles a Diner from the 90s, and probably offers jobs there to those new to hell. But before being a demon she was a human who failed to meet the requirements of utopia, and this feeling of failure has always accompanied her since she was alive until today. Her route would be for MC to help her at her restaurant and help Rosita overcome her insecurities.

Noel: He was definitely a goth in life and as Kalei was a very religious person, when he died he would definitely go to utopia but was attacked by a geist, which made it impossible for him to take the tests to enter utopia. His initial route is when the MC refuses to go to Utopia and stay with Noel and DJ in limbo. The route would involve the MC helping Noel adapt to his life in limbo and battles against the Hordes, at some point Noel would become the King of Limbo and would surprisingly renege on the deal with Dominio and say that limbo would be fine without the utopia help.

Irene:Irene was a frustrated woman in life just accepting everything that came in front of her without hesitation just trying to do what any human being should do. Which resulted in a frustrating high school relationship, a frustrating job until his frustrating death. It was quite surprising for her that there was life and death and she saw it as a way to start over and be a new Her. In this route the MC will help Irene to discover herself as a person and help her life stop being so frustrating, Ramon will also be part of it as a little jealous of the Mc, but probably understanding that he and Irene would never work...

Okay, I must admit that there were some that I had more ideas for than others but I'm happy with the result.

#repurpose game #repurpose vn #repurpose swap au #swap au #repurpose kalei #repurpose ramon #repurpose dj roadkill #repurpose mitts #repurpose rosita #repurpose noel #repurpose irene #repurpose AU

[dyns33]

The Ending

Last Morpheus x Hob!Reader. A bit hard to read, and with spoilers from the comics, careful. 

Y/N Y/L/N couldn't die.

Not if she didn't want to.

Lord Morpheus repeated this to himself over and over as he continued to search for her everywhere. He refused to think that his sister might have changed her mind or that his immortal lover might have decided to leave without telling him.

Something else must have happened, and though it might be horrible, Dream told himself that he would find her, that she would be alive, and that he would help her get better, for as long as necessary.

She had told him about her long life, he had seen some of her nightmares. Y/N had experienced a lot of things, she was strong, smart. Everything would end well.

Her disappearance dated back to a few days now. If he hadn't learned to control his rage, Lord Morpheus would have punished Johanna Constantine for causing all this trouble. She had come to seek the help of Y/N and Hob for a dangerous mission, thinking that it would be better to be accompanied by people who could not die.

There are fates worse than death, Dream had once told Robert. You can be injured or captured.

It had happened to him soon after, like a premonition, and now Y/N might be stuck somewhere. Maybe she was being tortured, and if he didn't move fast enough, if she lost hope, then she might call his sister to end her suffering.

But no, she couldn't die, he refused that.

Despite his best efforts, traveling the waking world and dreams, dispatching Matthew and his most loyal subjects, he was unable to find her.

The Hecate didn't give him any help, answering with riddles and mocking him. Lost, he did something he hadn't even thought of doing when he was captured : he called his family. It wasn't as helpful as he would have hoped.

As always, Destiny couldn't do anything, saying whatever was supposed to happen would happen. 

Death only reassured him, promising him that Y/N had not contacted her, and that if she did, she would take him with her to save his beloved. She looked strange, but said nothing. 

Destruction didn't answer.

 The twins were a little surprised by his request, savoring this moment, happy to see him so weak in their domains, desperate and in love.

     "We'd be willing to help you just because we pity you and you finally seem to realize you're no better than us..." Desire began.

     "... But we can't do anything for you. An ancient magic seems to have taken your lover." continued Despair. "She's too far from us. Sorry."

It was out of sheer politeness, knowing how susceptible she could be, that Dream went to Delirium. Poor Delirium, his youngest sister would probably not achieve more than the others had already done.

She jumped up when she saw him, saying that she had missed him, before saying a lot of nonsense, but listening all the same to the reason for his coming. Delirium looked serious for a moment, thinking hard, before jumping up again.

     "I dON't KnOw wheRe Y/N Is. BUt I knOw whO I CAn Ask !"

     "Come find me if your friend brings news." sighed Morpheus who wasn't really listening.

     "He'S nOt MY fRIenD, BUt OkAY !"

A few hours later, someone showed up at the gate of the realm, and Matthew flew as quickly as possible to his master to tell him that Y/N had returned.

In an instant, Dream appeared beside her, hugging her, asking her if she was hurt, wiping the tears from her cheeks, touching her bloody hands.

     "... I'm fine." she whispered without looking at him.

     "Obviously not. If those who hurt you are not dead yet, I will find them and lock them in an eternal nightmare."

     "Forget it, Morpheus. I don't want to talk about it."

     "I cannot leave unpunished those who have dared..."

     "Nobody hurt me." Y/N said more firmly, but still avoiding his gaze. "It's not my blood. I lost myself, in limbos. It was impossible to find my way, I was alone, and I was afraid of arriving in hell, or of dying without doing it on purpose. Then he... I do not want to talk about it."

     "He ? Who is he ?"

Y/N initially refused to answer, continuing to cry, before falling to her knees and beginning to ask his forgiveness, as if she had committed a crime. The pleas came next, her love saying that she would understand that he hated her, that he never wanted to see her again, but that she had no choice. She was shaking, as if she was afraid of him.

     "He asked me... He was so tired, so kind. His voice... His voice..." she sobbed, taking Morpheus's hands. "He had such a beautiful voice."

Then Dream understood. And after having focused his attention only on Y/N, he contemplated the universe and whispered the name of his son who was no longer there. That was what his sister had hidden from him. What his brother had meant.

Y/N was alive, and Orpheus was dead.

Delirium had had the idea of going to ask her nephew for help. She had never thought of it before, but he was a oracle, so he knew everything, and he didn't have to keep quiet like their big brother. She wanted to ask him where her dear other brother Destruction was, but Orpheus had smiled, saying that his uncle didn't want to be found, that there was more important matters to deal with at the moment, and that he wouldn't be here afterwards.

Using his link with the Limbos where he had lost Eurycype, he had found Y/N and he had guided her to the exit. He had, however, asked her for a favor.

     "He said he wanted to join his wife. He couldn't stay like that anymore. He was already dead, or almost. He was staying for his mother, and you, even if he was convinced that you didn't love him anymore and that you would never come back to see him. He would have wanted to see you, and at the same time, he was afraid. Afraid that you would reject him, or that you would accept his request. He knew the rules, he knew what he would happen to you if you released him, so... He asked me. I didn't want to do it. I said there had to be a solution. I didn't want you to hate me."

     "My love..."

     "He said it would be fine. That you would understand. He sang to calm me down. A lullaby you made for him. It was beautiful. Oh, Morpheus, it was beautiful. Forgive me."

Unable to speak, he took her in his arms. His son was right, he didn't hate Y/N. He would never hate her, he was glad she was back, that she wasn't hurt. Yes, Orpheus was long dead, though none of them wanted to accept it.

     "My love..." he whispered again, continuing to rock her, trying to calm her crying, as he had done with this little baby that Calliope had given him. "There is nothing to forgive. You granted his wish, you did nothing wrong. You gave my child peace, something I could never have done. I wanted him to live, I was not here for him. At least he's with his wife now. He's happy."

Y/N continued to cry and apologize for several hours, hugging him and letting him kiss her until she was too exhausted to move.

It was not necessary to warn anyone. Once his partner was calmer, although still feeling guilty despite all his reassuring words, the family came.

Morpheus was afraid that they would be violent towards Y/N, that they would insult her, curse her, try to kill her.

The meeting was very strange.

Destiny didn't speak much, only repeating that what had to happen had happened. He quickly added that the other option would have been difficult, for everyone. Death hugged his brother, then Y/N, without saying anything, because it was not necessary. Destruction did not come.

The three youngest were the most surprising. Very serious, very solemn. Despair offered her condolences. Delirium apologized if she had made a mistake. Desire remained in a corner. It wasn't time for teasing, but none of them were mad at Y/N. Their nephew had been on the borders of their domains for too long, it was good that he was free.

Calliope arrived last, calm and serene, but with tears streaming down her cheeks. By stupid reflex, Morpheus stood in front of Y/N, but the muse smiled sadly at him, before passing and taking his companion's hand.

     "Thank you." she said. "Thank you for helping my son."

Not considering that she had helped him, Y/N just nodded trying not to cry again. She couldn't, and Morpheus took her back to their room as soon as everyone had left.

Of course, there remained the dreams and nightmares, curious and worried, who wanted to check that everything was alright for their creator, but also for his lover. They all adored Y/N, they didn't like to see her so sad, but above all, they wondered if their master might not blame her for what had happened.

     "I do not understand what you mean."

     "Well... She... She killed your son, boss." muttered the raven as if he had just said an insult. "Yeah, he asked her, and she's sorry, and I understand, but… You might be upset, and angry."

     "I am not."

     "Not even a little ?"

     "I'm not saying that the loss of my son doesn't cause me any pain. But Y/N is safe and sound thanks to him, and I've only felt joy since her return." he said, stroking the hair of the immortal, who was starting to wake up. "Excuse me, Matthew, but I don't want to leave her alone during this moment. I'll join her in the Waking World, tell Lucienne to watch over the realm while I'm gone."

     "Yes, boss. I'm sorry."

     "Don't be. If anyone is responsible, it's me. I had minimized my son's suffering. If Y/N had died today... Maybe I would have gone to hell for her. My sister would have laughed at me, saying that I was selfish. I could have helped him, I didn't. My brother is right, things happened as they were supposed to , and now I have to follow my own advice. Accept that he's gone, and savor every moment with Y/N, my Y/N, that he brought back to me."

The raven refrained from answering. He wasn't really satisfied, but he couldn't do anything. It wasn't a nice ending, like in the fairy tales, but it wasn't a bad ending either. Life like stories, their master well knew, did not always have happy endings. They had endings. And if in his Y/N was at his side, that was enough.

#Sandman #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #dream of the endless fanfiction #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus fanfiction #morpheus imagine