#like i want to be studied and not fully comprehended and also feared | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bettyfrommars · 1 year

Text

Stop the World and Melt with You//Eddie Munson x fem! reader//Part 5

🚨18+only, MDNI, adult themes, magic realism, fantasy, talk of dimensional travel, fear of the unknown, smoking cigarettes, sense of fear, held hostage (not reader), getting slapped (not reader), mention of blood, mention of being restrained (not reader), storyline involving people other than reader, sense of being hunted down, eventual smut, talk of tattoos. Word count: 3.2k

Series Masterlist

💜disturbed by the temporary tattoo you got from the quarter machine, you cut your time with Eddie short. Time goes on, you get a job at the motel, and meet Robin Buckley who says you remind her of a girl she used to know. We meet some people behind the scenes of your trip to Hawkinsgate.

A/N: Brought to you by my love of Eddie Munson, parallel universes, and The Twilight Zone, this story is for anyone who wants something a little different--definitely not for everyone. This is something I'm writing to relax my brain while I work on a longer series. Parts will be short, updated hopefully every other week. ALSO, forgive me, but I lost my tag list for this, I know there were a couple of you xoxo

-------------

Part 5: The Flicker

"This place is like someone's memory of a town, and the memory is fading."

-------------

In the real world, we live on the hands of a clock, digital flashes that remind us that we’re always aging in this free fall, on a rock plummeting through space. In Hawkinsgate, you felt like you were living in moments, some of which didn’t even belong to you. Like a peddler somewhere in the universe sold you someone's memories, without any structure or reason, and you were now a permanent resident in one.

Eddie leaned over. “What is it?” He asked. You had your hands positioned like you were holding a book in front of your face, blocking him from seeing what you had while you tried to make sense of it.

The first words that escaped your lips were that it must be a mistake, yet a mistake would imply that it existed in the realm of possibility, but this did not. How could it?

Eddie was worried about you, your skin had gone ghostly pale and you weren’t saying anything to him, you were just staring down, mouth a bit slack.

Your tattoo was an illustration of a pineapple wearing Eddie’s denim battle vest; not just any pineapple, but your pineapple.

You showed it to Eddie. “How can this be? Look---” you pointed to the tiny, specific details of the pins on his vest, right down to the pocket that was unbuttoned. Strange little green flourish of pineapple hair sticking out from the collar like a real cool exotic fruit boy.

Eddie didn’t know what to make of it. Sure, strange things always happened in Hawkinsgate, but they seemed to be getting stranger since you arrived. Eddie’s tattoo was a grim reaper, complete with a scythe, a bit menacing for a quarter machine, but nothing to get alarmed about, all the same.

“It’s a good thing though, right?” Eddie lifted his eyebrows. “That way you will always remember him.”

Eddie seemed to be missing the point of why the existence of it was freaking you out. Or, maybe he fully comprehended the magnitude of your situation and wanted to try and make you feel better somehow by minimizing it.

“I have to go,” you whispered, grabbing your bag off the chair.

“Wait, no, stay. Please,” Eddie stood halfway and lingered there, hoping you would come sit back down. As long as you didn't see what was in his bedroom, everything would be fine.

“I’m sorry Eddie, I just...I need some air,” and then you were out the door, jogging down the steps, throwing yourself into your truck as quickly as you could as if there were a killer at your heels. Eddie stumbled out onto the porch with a wave, watching you yank the gear shift to reverse and peel out. You threw a wave over your shoulder at him, made sure you were out of his line of sight, and then you burst into tears.

------- Somewhere Else--------

A short, blonde man studied an obscure map on the wall, his hands behind his back, mumbling to himself, “where can she be...where can she be?”

Just then, the doors to his study open and two officers in dark blue jumpsuits enter.

“We have Lorelei,” they tell the short blonde man, and then there is a sparkle of satisfaction that stretches across his face.

Lorelei is tied to a chair in a slightly damp cement room, with weeds growing up from the corners and cracks in the floor; a tiny window with metal bars above her head, and a bare mattress against the wall. She’s wearing a long, purple dress, her bare feet are dirty, and her long red hair is dotted in dried mud.

She tucks her chin to give the blonde man a Cheshire smile when he walks in.

“Lorelei,” the short man with the receding hairline says, tucking a yellow file full of paperwork under one arm. The two guards in blue jumpsuits are with him, guns holstered at their sides. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Hello Ronald,” Lorelei purrs, batting her lashes a few times at him. “This is an odd way to let me know you have a crush on me.”

“Hilarious,” Ronald returned, handing the file under his arm to one of the guards. His hands go into the trouser pockets of his tan suit, his smile fading. “But this is no time for jokes. You know what I want.”

Lorelei sniffed and licked her lips, her resolve set; there is a tinkle of laughter in her voice: “You’ll never find her.”

Ronald loses his cool instantly, his face screwing up, his fists flexing at his sides. She could almost see smoke coming out his ears like a whistling tea kettle. She enjoys the sight of his frustration while it lasts, but then he calms himself with a deep breath.

He takes a few steps toward her, flexing his mouth, scooping two fingers in to stretch his shirt collar away from his neck. “See, now, that’s where you’re wrong,” he chided. “This little game of yours has been entertaining, albeit a complete waste of time. You know I’ll find her with or without your help, my dear.”

“You can try,” Lorelei replied with an air of smugness, a dull laugh escaping her throat.

Ronald was shaking, the whites of his eyes cracking with bloodshot veins. It took him years to find out which dimension you were in, and when he finally did, that cunt Lorelei was somehow able to move you, and it was really grinding his gears. He was tossing and turning at night, fully obsessed.

He came up and snatched Lorelei’s chin, squeezing her lips together, forcing her to look up at him. His words were a venomous hiss. “Oh, I’ll find her, and when I do, you’ll be sorry you played this little game with me, you fucking bitch,” and then he threw her chin so that her face jerked to the side, hair falling in her eye.

Defiantly, Lorelei turned to meet his intense gaze again. “She’s growing stronger, I can feel it. If you do find her, it will be too late.”

Ronald’s hand came down, smacking his palm across her cheek in a slap. “You know I hate it when you make me do this!” He barked, his hands going to his hips as he started to pace in front of her.

Lorelei continued to exude calm and patience as she watched him unravel before her very eyes. She licked her teeth and made a smacking sound, tasting blood.

He turned his back on her, facing the door. “Why couldn’t you just let me have this one?” He asked in a softer tone, cheeks red, eyes dry. “You could’ve had anything you wanted; a home, a life, freedom. But instead you choose this,” his hand gestures around at the concrete room.

She thought about her words for a second. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me!” Ronald shouted as he turned on his heel to face her.

A dreamy look passed over Lorelei’s face as her eyes shifted to the ceiling, thinking beyond it, to the sky. “Because I love her,” she replied, a partial smile exposing a tint of pink blood over her teeth. “She’s one of the last Creators, Ronald. For all of your faults, I know you can appreciate what that means.”

There was a gold wedding band on Ronald’s finger and he twisted it as he frowned at the ground. “Wherever she is, you can’t keep her there forever. You’ve been on the run for too long, you’re getting weak, Lorelei.”

Lorelei felt the pang in her empty belly, and the ache in her sore muscles, but her spirit was strong. “I can keep her there long enough,” she answered in a hush.

Ronald cursed. “Long enough for what???” He belted, flapping his arms out wide and then letting them slap down against his legs. “It’s always goddamn riddles with you people.”

His flare for the dramatic never ceased to amuse her. Ronald continued to pace, running his hand down his mouth, until he stopped, abruptly, and turned to her with an unnerving smile pressing his lips against his teeth.

“You put her with him, again, didn’t you?” He bleated, a thrill rising in him when he noticed the way Lorelei’s gaze flickered away, unwilling to meet his gloating stare. Ronald clapped his hands together, giggling like a toddler.

“He’ll protect her,” Lorelei squared her shoulders, wrists flexing in the ropes at her back. “He doesn’t know he can yet, but he will.”

Ronald chuckled, wagging his finger at her. “You’re too much of a romantic, Lorelei, that’s your problem. You could’ve sent her to a dimension on Saturn to sit in a cave and stay safe, but you just had to reunite those two like the incredible sap that you are.”

“Love is stronger than fear,” she said with a lift of her chin.

“Oh, shut up!” Ronald shook his head, signaling for the guards to open the door. “Thank you Lorelei, you’ve been very helpful.”

Pausing in the doorway, Ronald jerked his thumb over his shoulder at her. “Make sure she eats something, will ya?” He looked over his shoulder at her, and then patted the guards arm. “Not too much, though, wouldn’t want to spoil her.”

----------

A week went by and you were still living at the motel. You mentioned to Mrs. Henderson that you were running out of money and things to trade, and as it turned out, she said she was in desperate need for some part-time help at the front desk, so you had yourself a job.

The pineapple tattoo on your forearm was fading, but you brushed your fingertip over it, thoughtfully, wishing it would stay.

You didn’t see Eddie that whole time, but you did notice that his van drove extra slow down the street in front of the motel a few times on his way to or from work, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t deserve to be ignored; he had done nothing wrong. Nothing except be a part of this obscure place that held you captive, where nothing made any sense. The other day, there was a pile of mismatched socks on your doorstep; not a single pair in the lot of them. You asked Claudia about it and she didn’t have an explanation, but said you could keep them if you were interested. You doubted there was any value in a pile of single socks, so you put them in with the lost and found at the office.

You started your job the next afternoon, flanked by your three office helpers; cats named JoJo, Henry, and Clarice. Cleaning out their litter box was one of your nightly duties, and they loved to watch you as you did it, twitching their whiskers with pride as you collected the gifts they’d left for you. Every so often there was the random husband having a fight with his wife who got a room for the night at the motel, or the occasional friends who were having a “girls night” and wanted to sit by the pool out back. One night, a shifty couple with sweaty palms asked if they could rent a room for a couple hours, but you regretted to inform them that they would have to pay full price. The Grove was the only motel in town, and they ended up trading with a bunch of food supplies like gold chocolate coins, oranges, and an unopened box of Honeycomb cereal.

You made a friend, her name was Robin Buckley. She worked as the part-time maid, and she also worked at a Family Video down the street.

She went out back by the dumpster to have a smoke, and you went with her. She offered you one from her pack, and you took it, thinking that maybe this was as good a time to start smoking as any.

You took an aggressive inhale, and then sputtered and coughed.

“Couldn’t remember if you smoked or not?” Robin asked with a crooked smile.

You choked a few more times, throat burning. “What is it with people coming here and losing their memory?” You asked, hoping maybe Robin would be the one withholding some answers.

Robin leaned against the side of the building, hiking one foot up behind her, both of you staring across the alleyway at the metal fence and the diner that was down another block.

“I wish I knew,” she admitted softly. “I met a girl once…” she drifted off, taking time to flick her cigarette. “She was...like you, but also, not.”

You turned to face her, interest piqued. You put the filter of the cigarette between your lips but did not inhale before lowering it.

Robin continued. “She remembered stuff, from her other life.”

From her other life…

Robin looked around, as if to make sure no one was around, as if she shouldn’t be talking about it. “She had these tattoos all over her body,” she used the hand holding her cigarette to gesture down her leg and over her shoulders. “She said they were like passport stamps for all of the different dimensions she’d traveled through.”

You swallowed hard, thinking about your own tattoos.

“Anyway,” she snorted, scratching her elbow. “Everyone thought she was crazy, but I loved---I thought she was funny and brilliant. I believed her.”

Robin seemed to follow where your mind went and both pairs of eyes traveled to the tops of your feet that were visible through your sandals. There was a circle with dots around it on your left foot, and three parallel lines on your right foot; a thick black circle around your big toe. You also had some on your stomach, your sternum, under your arms, behind your knees, just behind your ear. They were all geometric shapes and markings, and none of them made sense to you, but you figured that, whoever you were before was into that sort of thing.

“Hers were the same, but different,” Robin assured you, without you having to ask the question.

“What else did she remember?” You asked reluctantly, a part of you almost afraid to know.

Robin swallowed, clearing her throat after taking another drag. “Supposedly, this place---” she looked around at the sky and the building, “--was designed to be like a safe house for travelers like her...like you.”

You made a face, clenching your eyebrows together. “So this place isn’t real? You’re not real? It’s all just a dream or something?”

Robin put her hand up, palm out. “Touch me.”

You obliged, spreading your fingers and pressing your hand against hers to feel the warmth and the callouses.

“Do I feel real?” She asked.

You nodded, deciding to run your fingers down the brick of the building to also see if it was real.

“She said there are billions of parallel lives, and we’re all living them at once, moment to moment,” she snubbed the last of her smoke out in the ashtray. “What this place is called is a flicker, like a blink, a sliver that exists in between each of our simultaneous existences.”

To be honest, it made you head hurt a little. But you didn’t want her to stop talking, you wanted to know more, you wanted…

But then the bell at the front desk rang to alert that someone needed service, and Robin was getting ready to head to her other job, but you asked her when she’d be back.

“Not for a couple days,” she told you with an air of reluctance. “But come by Family Video sometime, I’ll introduce you to the King of Hawkinsgate.”

You didn’t know what that meant, but you knew you wanted to talk to her again.

“Is there a VCR in your room?” Robin asked. “If not, we rent them at our place. I could get you all set up.”

The bell rang again, this time the person was tapping their hand on it over and over.

As Robin backed away, she waved to you. “Hey, don’t be afraid, okay? Wherever you come from, I’m pretty sure you were a badass. I know she was.”

----------

Eddie dropped down on the couch in the living room of his trailer with a grunt. He was still in his work clothes, hair and face filthy, mouth parched. His grim reaper forearm tattoo was almost gone, and so he ran his hand over it vigorously to peel the rest of it off, bits of his sticking to his arm hair. He was tired of convincing himself not to go over to the motel and see you. He was tired of listening to people, especially Gary, telling him he was doing the right thing by staying away.

If only they knew…

He pulled the bandanna off of his head and let his hair go loose, thinking about what sounded good to eat. It had been over a week, but he still had some of the cans of spaghettiOs you’d left behind, and he figured that was as good as anything for dinner. He turned the TV on and slipped the movie Halloween into his VCR so that he could have something on while he cooked.

In the bathroom, he washed his face while the shower got hot, and then he opened a can of beer and jumped in, sipping the beverage as he washed the grime of the day away.

Standing on the blue bathmat, he turned the shower off and wrapped a towel around his waist, hair long and wet down his shoulders. On his chest and back were strange markings he’d always known as birthmarks: the outline of a crude triangle, a letter C with a line through it, two vertical wavy lines. He used his hand to wipe some of the fog off of the mirror on the medicine cabinet, making a squeaking sound as he went.

He continued on down the hall to his bedroom, stopping at the closed door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, wondering what you would think of him if you ever saw what he had in there. The paintings, the drawings, the letters. The songs he had written. The nights he had paced the floor wondering why he kept seeing your face; and then one day, there you were --- appearing to him in the flesh.

First order of business after he ate was to finish the mix tape he’d been working on for you.

Scorpions, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, those were all a given, but he had some other things planned for your listening pleasure as well.

That night, you both had the same dream, and shot out of bed in your separate rooms with a start, clutching the blankets, hearts racing, tears of joy brimming in your eyes. But the second you were fully awake, it was gone; another precious memory lost in the flicker.

——-

#eddiemunson #eddiemunsonseries #eddie munson x fem reader #fem reader #fantasy #mystery #twilight zone #stranger things #strangerthingsau

127 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 2 months

Text

I know I said the next part to my Like An Angel series with Eris would be fluff and lighthearted but I couldn't help myself with some angst✨ I also wanted to drop more clues/context as to what's to come. I'm currently working on finishing it but here's a sneak peak, if you'd like to read:

"Who does he think he is, making demands of me?" Beron seethes, his voice laced with frustration, as he paces back and forth in his study. “I’ve graciously taken in his daughter. I’ve even granted him half of his money upfront. And yet where is his end of the bargain?”

Eris, standing nearby, observes with cautious eyes, gauging the storm brewing within his father. The amber hues of his eyes mirror the leaves that rustle in the court's eternal autumn and he prays his father can’t hear the rapid beating of his heart as he says, “Call off the wedding...”

And wed her to me, he wants to add but the words stick in his throat. The painful truth lingers deep in his chest, nestled next to the strings of fate that bind him to you. It’s best if you leave this court and go somewhere far. Far away where happiness might embrace you. Far away from the cruel clutches of his father’s power. Far away where you may free him of this torment…but the more time he spends with you, the more precarious the thread his honor hangs on becomes. He fears that nowhere would be far enough now.

“Call off the wedding?” Beron laughs in an incredulous manner. The gold and crimson tapestries adorning the walls seem to shiver in response to his father’s simmering frustration. When Beron abruptly turns to face Eris, the younger male can’t help but flinch. “When you were the one who suggested this arrangement to begin with.”

Eris’s throat tightens. He had been the one to suggest this arranged marriage.

Your father, a respected merchant, extended an offer to Beron – an offer that, even now, Eris grapples to comprehend fully. It was a proposal that was lured with promises of enhanced power for the High Lord of Autumn in exchange for wealth and elevated status.

With no available Vanserra daughters to marry your father to and Sawyer's nightly endeavors tarnishing the family name, it led Eris to suggest an arranged marriage between you and Sawyer. A futile attempt to protect his younger brother from a fate similar to Lucien’s…but at what cost?

The Cauldron must be bubbling with amusement at the irony of it all. For, unknowingly, Eris orchestrated the union between you, his mate, and his brother.

Eris wills himself to maintain an outward appearance of calm. “What’s so important about this exchange anyway?” He asks with a measured voice.

“Jareth has access to something precious,” Beron responds, his words chosen with deliberate care. "Something that may hold the key to immortality."

Eris's eyebrows furrow in contemplation, his mind racing to grasp at what special thing your father could be harboring. "What if Jareth is bluffing?"

Beron's eyes darken, sending a shiver down Eris's spine. His heart sinks to his stomach as he can already anticipate what his father is going to say.

“Then, I’ll kill his precious daughter.”

(A/n: i made a little bridgerton reference in here 🤧 couldn’t help myself, I love Kate & Anthony 💕)

#eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris angel au

21 notes · View notes

kits-ships · 11 months

Text

ramo d'ulivo - chapter 1 of ?

ship(s): the master x olive x the doctor word count: 2,436 content warnings: plane crash, bombs, character has a panic attack (or two), a marriage/relationship ending poorly, overreacting/misunderstanding as a plot device notes: this episode is heavily inspired by the dw episode spyfall i. i followed the plot of the episode very closely, but only dialogue was copied. also, this is my 1,000th post!!

The air was stale and stagnant as the group stood in silence. Side eyes were exchanged between the humans, but no one had the confidence to speak up and ask why the Doctor seemed so taken aback.

“Mm.” O’s voice rumbled as a chuckle rose from deep within his throat. “Got me. Well done.” Olive stood behind him with furrowed brows and tried to ignore the fear creeping up her spine. Once it reached the base of her skull, she shuddered. What was happening? Olive had only ever felt such a strong sense of unease in the presence of the Doctor’s most nefarious enemies, so why was it happening now? As far as she was aware, there were no Cybermen about, so she shouldn’t be getting the chills like this. Goosebumps spread over her arms and, as the hair on the back of her neck stood up, she suppressed a shiver. Graham finally broke the suffocating silence by speaking up.

“What’s going on, Doc?” He wondered, shifting his weight nervously as his blue eyes darted around the plane. He was doing his best to read everyone’s expressions, but he couldn’t tell what was wrong. It was just a simple slip-up between friends, right? After all, neither the Doctor nor O seemed particularly dangerous; their conversation had just become… uncomfortable. Everyone’s eyes turned to the Time Lord as they held their breath.

“I don’t know.” she breathed out. Olive bit her tongue. Something was wrong and the fact that she couldn’t pinpoint the source had her hearts pounding. O clasped his hands together and turned toward the window

“You’d better take a look outside.” The man grinned, flicking his head to the side. Olive mustered up enough courage to peek over his shoulder and gasped at the sight. The little home that he had shared with her for the past few months was flying alongside the plane; almost as if it’d been plucked from the Earth beneath them. What kind of weird, alien crap was going on now? Were the glowing humanoids behind this, or was O an entirely separate species? Had Olive been flirting with another alien?!

Graham didn’t seem very impressed by the whole ordeal.

“How’s your house out there?” he wondered out loud; almost as if he wasn’t fully comprehending the situation that was unfolding before them. From the corner of her eye, Olive could see her wife softly shake her head. Oh, this was bad; very, very bad. Her beloved Time Lord wasn’t pacing about or interrogating anyone- shouting to find an answer- which meant she was currently going through extreme, mental turmoil.

“A bit Wicked Witch of the West, but you get the gist.” O playfully shrugged before shooting a wink at Ryan.

“No-” The Doctor murmured, studying the man’s face for anything that would tell her this was some cruel joke. A sudden, violent realization hit Olive like a brick wall and her knees nearly buckled from underneath her. Looking up at O, she felt ill.

“No!” The brunette echoed, stumbling back and bumping into the seat behind her. O’s grin spread wider and a crazed look took its place in his eyes.

“Oh, come on, Doctor- catch up. You can do it.” Yaz shot a sideways glance to Graham, who looked beyond confused by this little fuss their group had gotten caught up in. She turned her head to Ryan and noted that he had the same look of dumbfoundedness on his face, telling her absolutely nothing about their current situation. Great. A light, breathy groan escaped past the Doctor’s lips and she suddenly wanted to bury her face in her hands and scream. She chose to restrain herself, however, and allowed her eyes to dart between ‘O’ and Olive. Her hearts dropped and she felt sick to her stomach.

“That’s my name and that,” he gestured to her face, “is why I chose it!” The man beamed, holding back a laugh as the Time Lord nearly doubled over in shock. “Oh, so satisfying.” he cooed. He turned and winked at Olive, who seemed just as stunned as her wife. The joy he felt as he watched panic wash over them was nearly impossible to contain and he began to bounce on his heels. “Doctor,” his teasing voice rang throughout the plane, “I did say, ‘look out for the spymaster.’ Or, should I say, spy… ‘Master?’” Olive leaned against the chair behind her and held a hand over her heart. It was beating so fast that it made her dizzy and she could barely tell that he’d given a small wave alongside his grand reveal. “Hi.”

“You can’t be.” The Doctor whispered; her shoulders trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. Her brown eyes looked between the Master and her wife as she continued to absentmindedly shake her head.

“Oh, I can be.” He purred. “I very much am.” Olive weakly lifted her head and felt her vision blur when she noticed the blonde woman staring at her. She shuddered.

“So what’s going on? He’s not really O?” Ryan asked, desperate to understand his friend’s odd behavior. Just as Graham was about to repeat his grandson’s question, the black-haired man looked over to the Doctor’s companions and smiled proudly.

“I’m her greatest enemy.” He excitedly announced. “Call me Master.” The older man took a step back and looked confused by this sudden demand.

“Call you what?” He questioned; an incredulous look on his face. Ryan furrowed his brows together in disgust.

“Master?” He murmured, trying to ignore just how weird their situation was becoming.

“Me and her go way, way, way, back. Olive and I, though, only go way back.” He grinned proudly as he glanced back at the brunette; only for him to raise an eyebrow when he noticed the two women making intense eye contact. Strangely enough, the human seemed terrified of her wife’s gaze; almost as if a bomb were about to detonate. Well, the Master thought to himself, there was a bomb about to detonate, but this one was a less interesting, metaphorical bomb.

“Olive.” the Doctor whispered; her voice low and raspy. The shorter woman swallowed hard and nodded slightly; dreading what was to come. “You knew?!” she exploded, anger lacing her voice as she lurched forward. “You lied to us?” Sure, her wife had grown a soft spot for a handful of hostile, alien creatures in the past, but the Master always showed himself to be irredeemable. How could she have gone soft for him of all people?

“No.” The girl replied, shaking her head in disbelief. “No- I didn’t, I-”

“How could you not know?!” The woman continued, scowling with hatred when the other Time Lord grinned at her wife. Sure, it would’ve hurt to have known that she’d accidentally collaborated with the Master, but to knowingly trust him was too far. After all, Olive had witnessed his cruelty firsthand; not only did she know he was a killer, but he’d kidnapped her multiple times! What stung the most, however, was the fact that Olive had once promised to always be on her side.

This cut far too deep for the Doctor to keep a level head; not only was everyone in danger, but Olive was supposed to be one of the only people she could trust. “You lived with him for months, Olive- months!” The woman opened her mouth to speak up for herself, but no words formed on her tongue. Instead of being able to deny her apparent betrayal in front of her life partner and friends, she was forced to hold back tears as fear welled up inside her. With a shaky breath, she did her best to collect herself and pushed her shoulders back.

“You don’t understand.” she whispered, her voice cracking. The man in front of her patted Olive on the back and he laughed as the situation unfolded. This hadn’t been a part of his plan, but the Master always loved getting to see the Doctor suffer, so he wasn’t going to complain.

“Tell me why.” The Doctor demanded- voice straining to hold back her anger and hurt. “Did you have a good reason? It’s certainly not hypnotism- he’s already tried and failed that.” The last sentence hung in the air for a few, agonizing moments before she spoke up again. “What have I done to you to deserve this?” Tears finally spilled down Olive’s cheeks and she shook her head. There was nothing she could say to quell her wife’s worries if she wasn’t willing to believe her.

“What about Barton?” Yaz interjected, growing increasingly more uncomfortable as the one-sided argument continued.

“Barton!” The Doctor gasped, jumping into action as if her panic had overridden her anger. She turned and darted down the aisle towards the cockpit, only to nearly collapse when he wasn’t there. With a quick once-over of the compartment, she returned to her friends who grimaced at the sight of her wild, wide-eyed look. “Where is he? What have you done to him?” The Master grinned and replied with a teasing shrug.

“Who’s flying the plane, then?” Graham blurted out, looking to Yaz and Ryan. He then lifted his head to see if the Doctor had an answer, only for the dark-eyed man in front of him to frown.

“Wrong question. Check the seat.” he said- chiding them for such a silly question. The other Time Lord ran back up the aisle and disappeared inside the cockpit, granting the group a moment to turn to Olive. Her hands were visibly trembling and tears were streaming down her face as she struggled to catch her breath. Oh dear, the Master hummed to himself, I’ve never given her a panic attack before. What an honor. Out of her friends, Yaz in particular seemed extremely concerned for the woman and flew to her side.

“Olive?” she whispered, running a gentle hand over her shoulder. As expected, the brunette couldn’t form words and was only able to shake her head frantically. From the other room, the Doctor shouted in disbelief and everyone (excluding Olive) turned to face one another.

“Cockpit bomb!” The Master gleefully revealed. “Short fuse,” he turned to Ryan and gave him a playful nudge, “I can relate to that.” The Doctor ignored his rambling and quickly tore her Sonic from her pocket; aiming it at the bomb before activating it.

The sound of the screwdriver seemed to send the strange man into hysterics as Graham watched him slam his fist into the chair next to him. “Now, did you really think I would not make that sonic-proof, Doctor?” He roared, spitting out the woman’s name as if it were a curse. She let out a frustrated noise in return. “Come on!” he shouted. “Deadlock sealed! And- I made sure- no parachutes on board.”

“There must be a way!” The blonde cried, standing in the doorway with tousled hair and panic in her eyes. Yaz continued to rub small circles into Olive’s back; doing her best to comfort her despite the chaos unfolding around them.

“But where’s Barton?” She asked softly, trying not to induce any more panic within their little group. She made eye contact with Ryan, who began to scan the plane for any signs of the man. The Master turned and gave the woman a teasing smile.

“Called off before take-off.” He said with a sing-song tone. “By me!” The man turned and approached Olive, causing Yaz to take a few, cautious steps back. He dropped to his knees beside her in an attempt to catch the girl’s gaze. “You looking to get out of here, Olive?” he teased; unable to hide his growing grin. “Cos I don’t have much faith you’d survive the crash. Human things, yeah? You understand.” She shook her head, but the Master patted her on the shoulder and ignored it. Graham took a step forward towards the two- ready to shove the Time Lord- but the man lept back and smiled to himself. “Just in case you do survive, meet these guys!” He spun on his heel and whistled- adding a snap for extra pizazz. On cue, two of the glowing humanoids manifested beside him and the Master gripped the seats on either side of him.

“I can’t!” The Doctor shouted from afar. “I can’t do it!” She turned and ran back to her friends before diving onto the floor; a loud boom splitting the air as a wave of heat washed over them. Ryan’s ears were ringing and he flinched from the scalding blast, but there was no time to recover. He soon found himself clutching onto the back of a chair, nails digging into the fabric as he prayed that he wouldn’t be expelled from the plane. With the cabin no longer pressurized, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from everyone’s lungs; practically forcing a scream out of their throats. It made for a rather rude interruption to Olive’s crying, but it certainly snapped her out of the fear-filled stupor she had been engulfed by. Her hand flew forwards to grab onto something- anything- only for her to feel warm skin touching hers. She immediately wanted to recoil- to get far away from the Master- but the adrenaline rushing through her refused to loosen her grip. The Time Lord gave a harsh laugh at the gesture and looked between the aliens and his rival.

“One last thing! There’s something you should know in the seconds before you die.” He shouted over the sound of wind rushing past them. The Doctor did her best to look up at him as she wrapped her arms around the armrest next to her. The Master paused to let the finality of his words sink in; the severity of them reinforced by the extreme turbulence and lack of oxygen. “Everything you think you know… is a lie.” Again, the Master grinned and Olive felt his hand spin to grab hers. Her heart began to pound harder, but she wasn’t sure if it was from her approaching death or the oddly gentle gesture. “Gotcha.” He hissed at the Doctor.

His free hand moved to reveal a small object from his pocket and joyously held it above his head as if he was mocking the humans. Despite stumbling in the wind, he held onto the girl and brought the device down to his face. As soon as he pressed the top with a dramatic flourish, Olive found herself on a cold, hard surface with a dull pain in her head.

This, she imagined, was the afterlife.

#m; ive been fooled many times; but you seem to truly be mine #d; youre a book thats not quite finished but ill watch you fill the page #my writing #selfship community #selfship #selfshipping #selfship fic #selfship fanfiction

14 notes · View notes

imtheasssniffer · 3 years

Text

Worth It

(Thank you @majorbombsinyourface for helping me with my comeback story. You’re a nasty mfker, but I guess I am too. Also I’m back, and this story isn’t very fart related. It’s just raunchy. I hope you guys still enjoy it though.)

You finally made it to college, and following in your brothers footsteps you decided to go to the same college and join the same fraternity. The guys always seemed so cool when you’d visit your brother, and you wanted to be a part of that. Being only two years apart meant that you got to be his brother not only biologically, but in the fraternity house. There were some familiar faces. Like Max, he was one of your brothers best friends, and you always got along especially well with him.

Day 1:

On the first day of pledging each pledge was paired with a big brother. You were lucky enough to get paired with Max. Getting paired meant you had to share a room. This seemed awkward at first, but you figured that as you bonded with Max it would be fun. After the house meeting was dismissed Max showed you around, and helped you to get settled down.

Day 2:

The second day was rather uneventful. You went to your classes all the same. After you were done attending classes. You went back to the frat house and studied. Max was out, so you had the bedroom to yourself. It was nice. It smelt a little off, but there were two college boys sleeping there, one of them being a jock, so it was well expected. After a couple hours of silence you heard the door creack open, and listened as Max approached you. His footsteps heavy on the floorboards. You didn’t turn around, which only aided in scaring you as Max roughly planted his hands on your shoulders.

“Whatchu doin man,” he asked loudly. “Studying,” you replied slightly startled, “What have you been up to?”

“I was getting something to eat with my bro’s,” Max replied smugly.

“Hey go sit on my bed,” he demanded.

You slid out of your chair and sat on Max’s bed, which was in the corner of the room and watched as he paced. Clearly he was thinking. An evil smirk crept onto his face, and then all of a sudden you got the feeling that maybe being Max’s pledge wasn’t a lucky turn of events. After a few more long seconds of awkwardly watching him plot to destroy you, Max walked towards you, holding eye contact with you the entire time. He mounted his bed on his knees. Sitting only a few inches from you.

“You know. Just cause I’m friends with your brother. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you,” he stated coldly, you nervously chuckled. Knowing that something sick and twisted was a brew. He placed his left hand on your fore head, and with his right, he blew his nose. Effectively emptying his nose of all its mucus. You wanted to move, but some part of you told you to stay, and let it happen. Maybe it was because you wanted in to the fraternity, maybe it was the twitch in your cock, but whatever it was, it couldn’t shake you from the feeling of disgust.

Before you could fully comprehend what was going to happen next Max slapped you hard in the face. Spraying the boogers onto your cheek. The force causing it to splash over your lips and eyes. Without giving you a second to recuperate Max told you to open your mouth. You shook your head no, you were completely stunned. Max’s sick smile showed on his face again, and he forcefully shoved your head into the wall behind you and repeated,

“Open your mouth.” You gave in. Your cheek stung, and your brain was completely rattled from the past events.

“Wider, aaagghhhhh,” Max teased. You opened your mouth as wide as you could, and Max rubbed his slimy fingers across your tongue and teeth. Leaving a salty residue of mucus to coat the insides of your mouth. You cringed at the taste and the situation. Part of you wanted to throw up, but for some reason. You found it extremely easy to surpress your disgust, as Max had his way with you. You heard him snicker as he brushed your teeth with the remaining boogers on his hand. Your eyes had lost focus. Like they were frosted over. You couldn’t believe what was happening. Then before you knew it. Max planted his hand under your chin, and helped you to shut your jaw.

“Rest up. It’s only going to get worse tomorrow. And get the fuck out of my bed.” You hurried away from him, and walked into the hallway. You took a few deep breaths. Afraid of the monster your rooming with, and the fact that his wrath will only get worse. After a few moments of catching your breath. You rushed in to the communal bathroom and brushed your teeth. Scrubbing vigorously until you could taste blood. You gagged as you the you roughly scrubbed your tongue. He was evil, so why was the thought of it getting worse starting to make your dick harder.

Day 3:

You woke up day three of being a pledge to the sight of a pale ass, and a slightly hairy pink hole hovering over your face. You exclaimed your surprise by a small gasp, which forced you to inhale the musk that was over you.

“Rise and shine,” Max laughed before,

PPpFffRRRrTrTt

You watched as his dewy ass sprayed a fart into your face. His hole pushing out and open to unleash a 4 second fart on your face. The smell was rancid. You choked on the warm air, not wanting to breathe in the taste.

“Do you have morning classes today?” Max asked.

“No.”

“Good, cause your face looks really comfy.”

You began to panic, but before you could even try to throw him off. He fell backwards and planted his ass over your face.

“How’s the post-workout funk man?”

It was awful. You felt his hole swell over your nose. Ready to release. You wanted to do something, but you laid completely still, and let him,

bbBbBlLaarraARrpPtT

You heard Max laugh violently.

“How are the post workout farts pledge.” He said. It burned. You felt your face warm up, and get soggy from his swamp ass.

After what felt like an eternity, which was really just three minutes. Max raised his ass off of your face, and pulled his underwear up. You gasped, and you could feel your body shake, as oxygen was reintroduced to your blood flow. Max laughed as he watched you struggle to get out of bed and catch your breath. You glared at him, and he just laughed even harder.

“Gotta love the booger and fart combo meal,” Max joked as you walked past him.

“Well I wouldn’t know.” You said jokingly.

“What?” Max asked with an slightly annoyed tone. You turned to see him genuinely upset. He grabbed you by the collar of your shirt, and pulled you into the bathroom.

“Did you brush your teeth last night?”

“Y-yes,” you replied hesitantly. He let go of your shirt, and started looking through the toothbrushes.

“Which one is yours,” he asked intensely. Nervous, you responded with,

“The blue one in the middle.”

“You know. I’m pissed you made me have to do this, because this shit hurts,” Max replied. You watched as Max locked the door, and then grabbed your toothbrush, shoving the bristled side awkwardly up his asshole. You watched as it went deep. He was rubbing it up and down, collecting every nasty thing he could. He pulled it out, and now the once white bristles were slightly brown. You gagged at the sight, which prompted a laugh from Max.

“Go on, brush your teeth now.”

“Max... don’t you th-“

“I said brush your fucking teeth.”

Scared of what else he’d do. You grabbed your toothbrush back, and applied a fat glob of toothpaste onto the now browned bristles. You hesitantly brought the brush into your mouth and starting ‘cleaning’.

“No matter how much toothpaste you use. You’re still brushing your teeth with my shit,” Max stated, before stomping out of the bathroom. You immediately stopped brushing your teeth, as soon as the door closed, and spit out any remainder of the experience down the drain. You desperately cleaned your toothbrush, but you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to use it again.

When you walked back into your room Max was no where in sight. The only mark to show he came back, was the dirty pair of underwear he’d been wearing for the last couple of days sitting on your pillow. You scoffed as you threw them on the floor, and then got dressed for your day. As you were about to leave your room. The door busted open, and Max came in holding three hampers filled to the brim with dirty laundry. You gave him a funny look, and he flashed his dangerous devilish smile. You stood still in fear, and curiousity. He walked past you and placed the hampers next to his bed. He turned around to look at you and chuckled as he saw your face which was contorted in a disgusted manner.

“Listen I don’t know what you think I’m going to do to you, but I can promise you it’s worse than you imagined,” he said walking up to you, and cupping his hands around your face. You could feel your dick start to strain against your pants, and you got embarrassed at the thought of him seeing it.

“Can we just get this over with?” You asked complyingly. You were so terrified of what would happen if you didn’t listen.

“Hmm. Somebody’s eager,” Max joked not knowing that some part of you did want to drown in weeks old, dirty, jock clothes.

“You felt yourself blush as you followed behind him. He crouched on the floor and grabbed a box from under his bed. Containing a ball gag and rope. You watched nervously as he pulled out the rope, and told you to take off your shirt, and then place your hands together. Although you knew he was getting ready to torture you. You couldn’t help but stop to admire how intimate it felt. The way his eyes squinted as he intently tied the rope around your hands.

“Lay down,” Max stated demandingly. You awkwardly complied. As you got down on the floor Max started to unbutton your pants. Your whole body tensed, and you covered your dick afraid he would see the erection that was slowly getting larger.

“Calm down man. I’m not gonna touch your dick. This is platonic,” he winked. Some part of you trusted him. Even though you were so terrified. You lifted your hands a little. Just enough for him to shimmy your pants down, but you kept them covering your member the entire time. Max just laughed. Once your pants were off he started to bind your feet. He did so with the same level of care as he had on your hands. Next he grabbed the ball gag. You looked at it with fear.

“Are you sure that’s necessary?” You asked nervously. Max snickered and replied, “If you’d like I can use Liams jock.”

“Never mind. Do what you think is best.” Your heartbeat quickened as the gag got closer to your face. Max motioned for you to open your mouth and placed the ball inside, he then gently lifted your head to fasten it tightly. Trapping you in a completely compromised state. After he finished binding your body. He gently scooped his arms under you, and lifted you softly. His arms were warm and embracing, but the second you started to feel comfort in them, your body was thrown like a rag doll onto his bed.

“Listen my bedsheets need to be cleaned, and you’re gonna clean them, but I thought we’d make this fun.”

Max watched you struggle on your back, as you tried to get into a comfortable position.

“Ready?” You just groaned into the gag. He smiled before lifting the briefs you threw on the floor.

“I see you didn’t appreciate my parting gift earlier. Before I drop all the toxic waste that is your fellow frat bros laundry on you. I’m going to make you regret disrespecting me.” You tried to say something, but you couldn’t. All you could do, was watch as he placed the pouch of his briefs over your face. Then he stretched as tight as he could. Stretching the stench of his 3 day old ball sweat on your face. Forcing you to inhale all of the musk that radiated off of his balls. You felt him lift your head, and you thought he was going to release you, but instead he pulled his briefs even tighter around your head, and tucked them into the strap of the ball gag on the back of your head. Your dick was fully erect now. All you wanted was for this to be over, so you could go shoot the steamiest load ever.

“Now that justice is served. I say it’s time we carry out the punishment.” You felt chills run down your body causing you to spazz.

“Oh no, no escape for you.” Little did he know you spazzed, because the sensation your dick was enduring, was euphoric. You couldn’t see anymore, but you heard Max lift one of the hampers. With no warning. Max unceremoniously dumped one of the hampers onto your legs. You could feel moisture surround the lower half of your body.

“Nice and warm huh?” Before you knew it he dumped the second hamper on your crotch. Finally you didn’t have to cover your huge boner. As you felt relief from freeing your dick. The third hamper was emptied onto your chest.

“Don’t worry. I saved the best for last.” Having no clue what he was talking about you listened closely. There was a ruckus and then the sound of zippers being unzipped. You heard Max sniff hard, and then mutter,

“Oh yeah, that’s the good shit.” Moments after the light that shone through his briefs, turned to complete darkness. Then the most potent scent of musk filled your nostrils. Your face felt warm and damp. It was almost noxious, but you kept sniffing it. You couldn’t get enough.

“I know, it’s hard to breathe down there I bet. That’s the contents of my year old gym bag being spread on your face bro. Always moist, always musty.” You heard Max walk away and open a door. Then, you felt even more clothes being thrown in you.

“And that’s my hamper for good measure too.”

The smell was so intoxicating. Almost as if it was getting you high. You were only trapped under his gym clothes for a couple minutes, but it felt like it had been hours. As you were getting lost in the scent. Max moved all the clothes from off of your face and took off the briefs that was tightly wound over your nose.

“Hey bud.” The light hurt your eyes, as your face became exposed to the world outside of his filthy briefs. You tried to speak back, but the ball gag was still in your mouth.

“It was getting pretty boring watching you lay still under my clothes. So I figured you might as well get it from the source.” You felt your eyes go wide. Max took off his shorts and he was free balling. You watched as his dick bounced between his legs.

“You know. Last year, your brother told me I have perfect t-bagging balls.” A cruel smile crept on his face as he laughed maniacally.

“Little did he know. These t-bagging balls, would be all over his little bros face.” As he spoke, he played with his balls fondling them. You saw his dick twitch, but he seemed unbothered. Meanwhile you had to stifle a moan, as your dick rubbed against some stale socks.

Max walked towards you with a wide, slow gait and a menacing look in his eyes. He slowly neared the bed, and stood over you. His hand lightly slapped your face, and then he kicked his leg over you, straddling your face with his crotch. He was right he did have the perfect t-bagging balls. The nearly covered half of your face, as he rested there, with his taint on your chin. Then he extended his knees, and sat up. Dangling his balls over your face. The angle at which you were witnessing this was immaculate. He looked so godly as he lowered his balls to your nose. Placing his hand on top of them and shoving them in your nostrils. Forcing you to directly breathe in his pheromones.

“Ahh take it in. The scent of your future big bro.” He moaned on top of you. Meanwhile you were struggling to breathe, because the skin of his balls was clogging your nostrils, and the ball gag didn’t help.

“Fuckk.” He started massaging his balls into your face. Kneading them over the bridge of your nose. Then as if his torture couldn’t get anymore raunchy he placed his asshole over your mouth, and dropped his dick over your eyes. You felt his hole against your top lip. His taint sat over your nose, and all you could smell was his tangy aroma. It was magical. You did your best to stifle large inhales, but it was so hard, because his scent just got more addictive the longer he tortured you. While busy trying not to let him know you were enjoying this, he,

BBrRraaAFfTt

Let out a spicy fart.

“Damn. That one kinda hurt coming out.” It slid into your mouth. It left a burnt taste in your mouth, and gave you goosebumps. It lasted 3 seconds, but it packed a major punch. The smell wafted into your nostrils and it was awful. It was cheesy and skunky.

BbBrRaAaaPPtT

“Aww fuck. You’re in for it man.”

PPPrRUUmMMpPTt

“Jesus.” Max said as he comically waved his hand in front of his face. You couldn’t blame him. You were weakly coughing under his ass. The smell was so intense. He must’ve eaten something rancid while you were in the shower.

PpPpPAAAAaRrRpPTt

“I kinda feel bad for you down there.”

PPpffRrrTT

“Ok I’m done. I don’t want to kill you.”

He slowly unmounted your face. Leaving you to bask in his gas, while he stepped away. You watched as he gathered the clothes that he had taken off of your face.

“I’ll let you cool down for a bit,” he said as he threw his old gym clothes back on you. This time a jock falling over your face. The smell was intense, and the smell of his farts that lingered over your face only aided in making his clothes smell atrocious. You were loving it. You laid still smelling the clothes for a while. Clearly Max was up to something. You finally heard the door creak, and then Max,

“Hey man. Sorry I took so long. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.” He chuckled as he walked over to you. You were expecting him to release you, but instead you felt and indent on the edge of his bed, and then a heavy weight on top of your body. This weight effectively pressing your sore and hard penis into the pile you of crusty jockstraps and damp T-shirts’ you were under. Since you weren’t expecting the sweet sensation this caused you let out a loud moan.

“Bro, what the fuck, are you good?” You heard Max ask above you. You felt a shuffle on top of you as clothes were thrown on the floor, and then a hand caress your bulge.

“Are you turned on by this?” You were terrified. What was he going to do. What was he going to say?

“I didn’t know you were such a freak,” he stated with a tone that almost sounded pleased.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one in the room right now that’s horny as fuck.”

You gurgled into your gag in shock. Was he for real? A sick sense of joy arose in you. You heard him inhale deeply into the still, rather impressive pile of vile clothes on top of you.

“Fuckkk.” He ruffled some of the clothes on top of your face, and grabbed your jaw. Forcing you to look at him.

“Do you wanna fuck?” He asked bluntly. Surprised, you just moaned into the gag. You were confused, but his face made you want to submit further than you already had.

After a brief contemplation. You nodded your head up and down. Max’s whole face lit up in a sick grin, and he started to stand on the bed . He quickly took off the briefs he was currently wearing, and slammed his body back down on top of you, before sliding off of the bed. He then placed his hands under you, and flipped you over. Your body tensed in shock. You now laid on top of the pile, and your face was pressed into a sweaty sock. You felt him climb back onto your bed, and then grab your butt cheeks. You felt his face against your ass as he inhaled deeply, which caused you to get chills all over your body. He moaned and then placed his tongue just below your hole, flicking it up until it slid around the ring of your anus. You moaned in ecstasy as his tongue seemed to expertly navigate your ass. Once finished licking the outside of your hole, he penetrated your asshole with his tongue, slowly pushing in deeper. He used his tongue like the bow on a violin, going back and forth, in and out. His hands tightly squeezed your cheeks, and massaged your thighs. After a couple of minutes you felt his dick slide against your taint, and in between your cheeks. You moaned in anticipation, as his dick stroked against your ass. You heard him spit, it splashed on his dick, and rained down on your ass. Unlike everything he had done before, he sloppily rubbed his saliva into his dick, moaning as he played with the head of his cock in his hands. Before continuing, he grabbed a sweaty t-shirt, and inhaled deeply into the armpit. Gasping in ecstasy, and then plunging his dick in ecstasy. You nearly screamed as you felt your hole stretch around his cock, which was larger than you anticipated. He initially moved slow and carefully, like he had before, but after a few strokes he started pounding into you roughly. You felt his hands slam down against your back, leaving a sting red pain to heat up your mid back, before scratching his nails back down to your ass, which he pinched between his fingers. Jiggling your mounds like jello, as he thrust into them harshly, causing them to ripple even more. You groaned in pleasureful pain, as your body was being used by Max, who fucked you hard. The intense stench that filled the room mixed with the beating your ass was getting, caused you to shoot your load all over the pile of clothes you laid on, spraying your cum onto your various frat brothers clothes. The vulgarity of it just aroused you more. Not too long after you felt Max strain as he began to shoot ropes of cum deep into your insides. As he slowly slid his dick out of your hole, you felt his cum ooze out of your hole, and trickle down to your balls.

“Fuck you better be ready for round two bitch,” Max said trying to catch his breath. You simply moaned at the thought of going again.

(I was thinking of making this a story that took place over a week, so if you think I should continue it let me know. I have a lot more nasty shit planned for you and Max.)

507 notes · View notes

nonstoplover · 3 years

Text

happily ending catastrophies ~ Fred Weasley

summary: Fred is accidentally (and fortunately) at the right place in the right time, and is able to save a muggle girl's life.

pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle (female) reader

words: 5K

meaning of: (y/h/c) means 'your hair colour'

(kinda) warnings: (1) this plays after the war and Fred lives, because i refuse to accept anything else; (2) i'm not from the UK so excuse the possible mistakes i made about the underground; (3) also there are a couple time jumps, i didn't want to drag it for too long and had quite a few ideas i wanted to write

a/n: this was an idea born whilst i was studying for this year's most difficult exam at uni lol but i thought it was worth giving a shot so here it goes xx

my masterlist

(y/n) wakes up to the sweet scent of some kind of flower filling up her nose and lungs. Despite the panging in her head she cracks her eyes open to find the source, though as soon as she takes in the totally unfamiliar room around her, the flower immediately gets forgotten.

What the hell?

She frowns, pushing her upper body up on her elbows to get a better look around. She has never seen this room ever before. Or has she? Suddenly she's not so sure as a foggy memory appears in her mind. Her glance travels across the cardboard boxes beside the wall on the floor, piled high on top of each other, then a desk, a wardrobe, arriving to the bedside table that has a lamp and several strange things - looking like some foreign country's small candies in colourful wrapping - on the wooden surface.

Sitting up fully she tries to move her legs to place them on the floor, but finds that it's much harder than it usually is - than it should be. All her attention turn to her legs now and the weird feeling that surrounds her left leg she hasn't noticed before. Carefully she lifts the covers that wrapped her body in a warm embrace to see what's wrong with her leg. A gasp leaves her lungs right away as her eyes fall on the cast wrapped around it from her knees straight to her toes.

In that exact moment the door slowly opens and her eyes snap towards the entering figure - a flaming red haired young man - whilst her fingers scramble to get the blanket back on her lower body, hiding the lack of clothing she's wearing as she's in nothing else but her underwear.

"Ah, you're awake! How are you?" He asks when his eyes connect with hers and slightly widen.

And his voice brings back everything. Literally everything to her mind about how she got here, all the memories flashing by in front of her inner eyes.

- - - - - - - flashback - - - - - - -

Friday the 13th. The day of misfortune and disasters. (y/n) huffs as she makes her way down the street towards the underground station to go back to her apartment. Now she knows this fact from experience.

She woke up a bit late that morning and didn't have time to drink her usual morning coffee in the comfort of her home, so she had to wait until her first break at work to drink one. When she just finished brewing a cup for herself in the small kitchen at her work, the handle of her favourite mug she kept in there broke and the now handle-less mug full of the brown beverage fell to the ground and shattered to a thousand tiny pieces, and if it wasn't already bad enough, the coffee splashed on her white shirt, colouring it light brown and leaving a wet stain behind all across her chest.

After that she managed to get through the day quite normally, right until 3pm, when her boss called her in to his office.

"The company is facing a hard time," his voice still echoes inside her head, making her shiver in sadness and anger. "I'm sorry, (y/n), the performance you showed us in the past two years was truly great, but you gotta understand that I have to decrease the number of employees. And that unfortunately includes you. I'm sorry."

If the way she worked was actually 'truly great', then why do they fire her and not someone else?

Well, probably her boss told the exact same thing to everyone he kicked out today, she thinks, but it doesn't help at all - it doesn't get her her job back.

So half an hour ago she packed everything in a box and set off to go back home, mentally raging about the cursed day. She has never believed in any superstition like this, but today she's changed her mind. Maybe all these things are true.

And that's when the next string of catastrophies starts.

As she's moving along the pavement next to the tracks at the station, the heel of her shoe breaks and she stumbles, her box flying away from her grip, all the contents of it scattering all over the ground. (y/n) tries gaining her balance back, taking a couple steps back, but the pavement disappears from under her feet as she reaches the edge, completely unaware of it.

She falls back, down to the tracks, and an impossible pain shoots up from her left leg as she lands, the air totally knocked out from her lungs. As she tries catching her breath, her hands move to lay flat on the ground so she can push herself up, but the world around her seems like it's spinning and she feels too weak to move a single muscle in her body.

Everything decelerates into slow motion and she glances around to see what she could do when something bright catch her eyes. A shiny warm yellow circle in the distance, getting slightly bigger and bigger with every second. She observes it carefully, thinking about how pretty it looks as she wonders what it might be. It only takes a second or two for her mind to catch up and suddenly she's more than aware that a train comes towards her and she's not capable to do anything to stop the collision from happening.

Friday the 13th.

Out of nowhere she feels a presence next to her, and just as she turns her head that way to see what's going on and her eyes fall on locks of bright red hair and a freckled face, the man has already grabbed her arm and with a fierce pull hoisted her up to a standing position. It feels like her arm is ripped out from her body, for a moment even the unstoppable hurting from her leg fades out to give space for the one in her upper body and she gasps before everything goes black.

- - - - - - - end of flashback - - - - - - -

The following events go by as a dozen of blurry pictures (y/n) can't make out in her mind and she blinks a couple times to get back to the present, to reality. She focuses on the redhead again, the last person she clearly remembers seeing.

"Where am I?" Her voice comes out hoarse and quiet and she clears her throat, waiting for his answer, knowing how she behaves quite rude completely ignoring his question, but she just can't help it.

She hasn't a clue where they could be, she's never seen a place like this in her entire life. It's obvious it's not a hospital. And after what happened it's just as obvious that she needs hospital treatment.

"The Burrow," he replies with a small smile playing on his lips.

And though she thought his answer would help clear some of the fog inside her head, it only confuses her more. Fred bites back the chuckle that threatens to burst from him seeing her cute frowning expression and waits for her to ask again, knowing it'll soon happen.

"The what?" The girl speaks up again, her voice now much clearer.

"My family home."

The confusion still stays on her face, and Fred truly can't blame her for it - who wouldn't be distraught after waking up in a stranger's home? Still, seeing the same expression he first ever saw on her face brings him back to the Tube station in London.

- - - - - - - Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

He's rushing down the stairs to catch the apparently soon arriving underground train, cursing his twin brother under his breath for winning the bet that resulted in the usage of any and every magical thing being forbidden for Fred for this whole week. Now he has to run errands adjusting to the timetables of muggle public transport and he's running out of time. Everything takes so much more time in the muggle world, and in the past few days he's grown to appreciate being born into the world of magic more than ever.

Arriving next to the tracks he catches sight of a dozen or so people there and relief fills his body. So the train hasn't left yet. He slows down to a walking pace and tries to catch his breath, and that's when he notices something weird about the people, something he has never seen in the past days when he used the Tube. They're all moving closer to each other, slowly making a tight circle, all of them looking in the same direction, as if something was on the tracks.

Curiosity rises in Fred and he makes his way to the edge of the crowd, standing on his toes to tower over it and glance down. His eyes immediately fall on a young woman lying there, one of her legs twisted in an abnormal way. She's looking to the side, towards the tunnel from where the train should arrive any minute now. Her expression displays confusion and slight fear, but her breathtaking beauty is still obvious, and it makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes slowly turn to where she's looking and he can see the light that swiftly grows brighter and brighter inside the usually dark tunnel, but his mind can't comprehend what he sees as all his thoughts are still only about the gorgeous woman lying there.

"The train's coming!" Somebody in the crowd shouts and that's what wakes Fred from his daze. His head snaps back and forth from the tunnel to the girl a couple times, so fast it's a miracle his neck doesn't break.

His body moves before he can fully think about his actions and suddenly he's pushing people away to make a path for himself in the crowd and he jumps down to the tracks. He hears a couple gasps from behind him, even a couple voices trying to inform him again and again that the train is actually soon there, but he doesn't care. All he focuses on is the task in front of him.

Squatting down he grabs one of the woman's arms and drapes it around his shoulder, standing up again as fast as he can, pulling her with him a bit harsher than he intended. She lets out a gasp in obvious pain, but he knows there's no time to be more gentle. Both of his arms move around her, one around her shoulder blades and one around the backs of her thighs to lift her up bridal style as he knows one of her legs is broken and she can't stand on it. And he's thankful for his own speed and thoughtful actions as he feels her body go limp as she faints.

The head-splittingly loud sound of a horn fills the air just as he turns around, signalling that they were noticed by the people on the train. As he takes the first few steps back towards the pavement he glances up, seeing two or three men already there bending down with their arms stretching in his direction. Fred quickens his pace as much as he's able to and practically throws the woman in the waiting hands, helping them pull her up by pushing her body from under, the screeching of brakes, iron on iron being the only sound that can be heard.

He stays on the tracks until he's completely sure that she's safe, than he grabs the edge of the pavement and swiftly pushes himself up, crawling on the cold surface until his legs are lying there as well. He feels a breeze moving against his back as the train arrives to the station, but he doesn't care about it, neither the cheering that erupts from the people around him, celebrating his heroic act, not even the burning feeling in his muscles from being strained. He just pushes himself up and stumbles to the woman, falling back down on his knees to be able to get a better look of her.

From up close he can see how she's even younger than he has thought, probably close to his age. She's obviously falling in and out of unconsciousness every other second. The word 'ambulance' enters his ears from the people around them, and he finds himself with a new task ahead of him. Somehow he has to get the girl away from this place and back to the shop so he can take her to the Burrow. Muggle hospital treatment isn't enough now, the wizarding world offered much better methods of healing. His mother will know what to do.

- - - - - - - end of Fred's flashback - - - - - - -

"And why am I here?" (y/n) continues asking.

"You broke your leg."

"Yeah, I figured, but shouldn't I be in a hospital then?" She tilts her head, raising an eyebrow.

"This is better than a muggle hospital," the young man shrugs.

"Mu... a what?"

"Ah, sorry. Slipped out," he let out a small chuckle, scratching the back of his neck in slight embarrassment.

Here comes the moment he dreaded. When he has to explain the existence of magic and the wizarding world to a completely clueless person and trying to do that without making a complete fool out of himself in front of the angel-like girl when she won't believe him - which he's sure she'll do.

"Wait, who are you? I don't even know your name," she speaks up again. "And how could I truly thank you for saving my life if I don't know even that?"

"There's no need to thank me," Fred protests.

"Of course there is!" (y/n) squeals as loudly as her weakened state allows. "Not everyone would jump down to the tracks when there's a train coming to save a complete stranger."

"Yeah, well, true," he mumbles, thinking back to how nobody did anything for her, anger filling his veins. Then he clears his throat, shaking his head to get rid of the negative thoughts and to focus on the girl again. "I'm Fred. Fred Weasley."

"Thank you for all you did, Fred. I'm (y/n) (y/l/n)," she sticks her hand out and a smile makes it's way to Fred face, matching the one on hers as he steps closer to shake her hand.

- - - - - - - 2 months later - - - - - - -

"I'm absolutely fine, Freddie, stop acting like I'm made of porcelain. I'm totally able to walk down the stairs on my own two feet," (y/n)'s giggling voice fills the air on the second floor of the Burrow when the redhead gently pulled her arm around his neck as he's done so many times in the past weeks.

"Alright, alright, I get it," Fred puts his hands up in surrender, backing away as laughter erupts from his throat and he turns his head away to hide the blush forming on his cheeks from the nickname she used.

Unfortunately he only gets completely face to face with his smirking twin brother who winks his way before pushing past him, a knowing chuckle sounding from him as he rushes downstairs, past (y/n), who follows him right away, only a bit slower, with Fred's careful, watching eyes trained on her back.

"See? I told you," the girl glances back at him over her shoulder after arriving downstairs, not stopping on her way to the dining table, only to stumble in a shoe someone left in the way. Fred immediately reaches out to grab her elbow and stop her from falling. From the strength of his attentive pull on her arm, instead of flying to the ground she crashes into his chest.

"I don't know, I'm not so sure," he teases, looking down with a smirk playing on his lips.

(y/n) moves her head up to connect her eyes with his, and Fred glances around her face, taking in the pink colour of her skin on her cheeks caused by the embarrassment of almost falling, then as his eyes reach the sight of her lips, he suddenly becomes almost too aware of how close the two of them actually are, and the breath hitches in his throat.

"Come on, kids, dinner's gonna get cold!" Molly's voice breaks the moment they shared and (y/n) regains balance, then gently pushing the boy away she turns around and limps the rest of the way to the dining table.

All of the Weasleys are already sitting there, watching the two of them appear in sight, and (y/n) has to bite back a giggle, still not used to the seemingly infinite number of redheads, all smiling wide and sweet at her. George pulls the chair she has always sat on ever since she was able to get downstairs out for her, offering a helping hand knowing that it's harder to sit down with only one properly working leg. Fred reaches out for her other arm just as she makes contact with George's hand, and the two of them don't let go until she's stopped moving.

She glances back and forth between the two boys sitting on either side of her, rolling her eyes at how overly protective both of them behave, when she's already told them hundreds of times that she's able to get by on her own.

The meal is delicious and the company is entertaining, just like it has always been since (y/n) stepped foot into the Burrow. Conversation flows without a hitch, only the occasional laughter breaking it for a second or two, and the (y/h/c) girl finds it hard to think about the inevitable - the moment that's coming fast, the moment when she has to leave these people and go back to her normal life. The Weasleys has become like a second family for her, and she fears that if she walks out that door, she'll never see them again. They're living a different life, in a completely different world. Their paths most likely will never cross again. She tries to brush off the sad thoughts, knowing that she'll have all the time to mope and grieve when she's back in her (ordinary and plain) flat on her own.

As she's helping Molly clean the dishes after the family finishes dinner, (y/n) pauses for a moment to glance at the redhaired woman. "Thank you for letting me stay here and for taking such good care of me."

"Oh, sweetie, you're more than welcome. It's our pleasure to have you here."

"That's true," Ginny chimes in with a joyful grin on her face as she places another dirty plate in front of her mother. "Your presence brightened up our boring lives."

"Boring?" (y/n) lets a loud laugh escape her throat. "Your lives are nothing even close to boring. Everything around here is breathtaking and spectacular."

"Is it though?"

"Try living my life for a week or so, and you'll know what boring really means," she shakes her head, the different memories and thoughts swiftly filling her mind as she turns around to lean the small of her back against the counter top, her eyes instantly connecting with Fred's, who's still sitting at the table, shamelessly watching her with searching eyes.

"I still can't believe there's a whole world of wizards and witches that we have absolutely no clue about. It makes me wonder how many things are there that's hidden from us. And it makes me scared how clueless we all are in the muggle world."

(y/n)'s only able to stand the intensity of his gaze for a couple seconds before she has to turn her head away, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks and heat them up. She swallows, only hoping that it stays unnoticed by the boy, but when she finally dares to glance back for the shortest of moments, she catches sight of a small smirk playing on his lips and she knows that nothing has gone unnoticed by him. Clearing her throat she tries to find something else to say, speaking the first words that come to her mind.

The newly learned word still rolls uncertainly from her tongue, not sure if she says it correctly, but when her restlessly moving eyes accidentally catch Fred's again, she sees a new kind of glint sparkling in his eyes, and it's enough to let her know that she used it correctly.

"It's not your fault," Ginny places a hand probably destined to be reassuring on the older girl's shoulder. "We're just too good at hiding it."

The two of them share a laugh, and unbeknownst to (y/n), it turns the shape of Fred's eyes into something that very much resembles a heart. His own heart flutters at the sound, the temperature of the room suddenly feeling too hot for him to bear, and he abruptly kicks his chair back, standing up and swiftly moving out of the house to get some fresh air and somehow try to cool the fire that's burning inside of his chest.

(y/n)'s eyes follow him, an eyebrow raised in question, deep in her thoughts right until the door closes shut again behind the boy. The sudden noise brings her back to the present and she shakes her head to get rid of the things running around in her head.

"Anyway, I gotta go upstairs and pack. I really have to go back home now," she sighs, pushing her body away from the counter.

"I'll come help you," Ginny immediately offers, hurrying after her.

Two and a half hours and a heart wrenching goodbye later (y/n) and Fred come to a stop outside her apartment's door, both of them feeling a previously never felt sadness fill their hearts.

All (y/n) can think of is flashing images of the flaming red haired boy. The way he sat at the edge of the bed she was lying in, telling her everything about the wizarding world. The way he lifted her up so effortlessly as if she weighed nothing to bring her downstairs when she was unable to walk in the first weeks. The way he walked her around the house and the garden, showing her everything and explaining things to her, adjusting to her extremely slow pace without a word. The way he showed her multiple of the products he and his twin brother sell in their shop, sometimes only speaking of their effects, other times even showing her, not caring with the fact it caused something inconvenient for himself as long as he made her laugh - which she did so many times and so hard that it made her sides hurt. The clothes he let her have when winter set in and her own became too thin to keep her warm, and the way the material smelled like him. The lingering touches of his calloused fingertips against the skin of her cheeks when he thought she was fast asleep - when in fact she was completely awake, fighting back the urge to press her face further into his touch.

In the meantime all Fred can think of is flashing images of the gorgeous muggle girl. The genuine curiosity that sparkled in her eyes whenever he told her about the world he's living in, the endless amount of questions she's asked him about anything and everything, the pure interest she showed from the first time he told her about the existence of magic. The way she bonded with each and every member of the Weasley family, finding a common thing with all of them and eventually making them all grow fond of her. The way she told him all about the muggle world and her own life, sharing all the details with him without hesitation - trusting him right away. The way his name rolled from her tongue - even more when she called him Freddie. The bubbling, loud laughter that erupted from her throat when he told her about the shop and all the pranks George and him did back in Hogwarts or when he showed her the products they now sell in the shop, the laugh that always made his heart skip a beat, the laugh he couldn't help but adore along with the fact that she seemingly didn't care the slightest bit how loud she is or how funny her laughter might sound. The way she looked in his clothes, always taking his breath away, making him wish nothing more in the rest of his life than to see that very sight every day as long as he lived - and possibly even after that.

"Well, thanks for getting me home," (y/n) points at the door behind her back as she looks up into his mesmerizing eyes. "And for jumping down in front of a train for me. And for letting me into your family home. And for taking care of me."

"It was the least I could do," Fred smiles sheepishly, his mind spinning, trying to come up with something to say that would keep the girl in his life.

"Bye, Freddie," she hesitates for a moment, then decides it doesn't matter anymore and leans in, pressing a soft kiss on his left cheek.

Fred's eyes flutter closed, heart bursting with the sudden feeling of love from both her lips touching his skin and the oh so loved nickname. He freezes, unable to think anything else than eight very important letters.

The girl moves back, fiddling with her keys to find the correct one, pushing it in the slot and turning it, gently shoving the door until it's wide open. She steps in, her eyes taking in the furniture and decoration she once loved but now finds unbelievably plain and mundane. A sigh escapes her lungs and she turns around to close the door - and wave once more the boy.

Fred still stands in the exact same spot, obviously not moving even the slightest bit since she backed away from him. (y/n) raises her hand to wiggle goodbye with her fingers at him whilst moving to close the door with the other hand, already feeling the tears blur her vision as she tries to take in the sight of him as best as she can to be able to remember him forever.

"Wait!" Fred exclaims, placing a palm flat against the wooden material to stop it before it fully closes.

This time (y/n)'s the one to freeze, hand pausing high in the air and she even holds back the breath in her lungs as she waits for him to continue.

"Can we meet again?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. She always thought that he'd never want to see her again. That he'd be happy to finally get rid of her and be able to continue his life as before. He wants to meet with her again?

"I... y-yes, of course," she stutters, heart stammering inside her ribcage so wild and loud, she's almost sure he can hear it.

The extremely wide smile that splits his face in two hearing her answer makes it impossible for her not to mirror it, her own lips curving on their own accord. Fred, feeling the previous nervous shyness evaporate from his body and the always present confidence fill his vein up again, takes a step closer to her, then another until he's right beside the door, gently pushing it wider open again. (y/n)'s hand on the door handle inside goes limp, and she lets it fall down to hang loose beside her body as Fred steps inside.

When he's so close that she can feel the breath coming from his nose reach the skin of her face, his lips open again to let out a whisper. "Can I kiss you?"

The already abnormal rhythm her heart beats in gets even more uneven, and her head moves in a nod as she breathes out the word 'yes'. Fred's eyes sparkle up even more, and his hands slowly start moving up, one reaching out to gently caress her cheek whilst the other wraps around the small of her back. Slowly, extremely slowly he leans down, pausing for a second just before their lips could touch, and as a wave of impatience rushes through the girl, she raises her head and presses her lips against his.

Fred lets out a muffled chuckle at her eagerness before tilting his head and snaking his arm further around her torso to pull her flush against his own body, his hand that's resting on her cheeks moving slightly further back until his fingers completely disappear in her (y/h/c) locks, his lips moving passionately against hers.

She completely melts into his touch, feeling like she's floating in the air, as if she's only dreaming. But when they both run out of oxygen and pull away to fill their lungs again, their foreheads pressing against each other in search of support and their eyes connecting without problem, looking deep into his beautiful brown orbs (y/n) grows sure right away that it's truly reality, not just a dream.

"I love you," he breathes in-between his quiet pants, but it's enough to make (y/n) totally dizzy as a love-struck grin spreads across her face.

And in that very moment they both know that their story is just starting.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

[wanna be added to my taglist?]

154 notes · View notes

spacemiddenzz · 3 years

Text

so i was watching @super-metroid's stream of Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass (highly recommend by the way) and she fought Imaginary Numbers this time. I guess I just wanted to share my thoughts on it, since it's my favorite boss and all. This is gonna be a longpost and it's gonna have spoilers so the whole thing can be found under the cut.

So, to put it simply, this dungeon is about stress and confusion. It's about Jimmy's mind frantically trying to comprehend the high-level math that Andrew is teaching him on top of his schoolwork. Jimmy thinks that his dad is the smartest man in the world- this is hyperbole for sure, but the fact that Andrew is quite intelligent remains clear. Jimmy looks up to Andrew because of his intelligence- and because of this it means a lot to Jimmy to be praised by Andrew. He wants his dad to view him as intelligent as well, because, if a man as smart as Andrew thinks Jimmy is smart, he can't be wrong! And hell, it feels nice to be validated by your parents.

Clearly, Andrew has already recognized Jimmy's talent with numbers and has started teaching him concepts beyond the second-grade curriculum, something that we see in the flashbacks in the Symmetrical Cavern. However if Imaginary Numbers' design is anything to go by, these concepts may be at or above the high school level. They're too much for Jimmy to understand. He's only eight, and his mind just isn't ready for that yet. Still, he feels the pressure to keep up with- and understand- the work that Andrew gives him. Why? Because he fears failure. He worries that if he admits to his father that the work is too hard, Andrew won't see him as a "smart boy" any longer- and that praise and validation means a lot to Jimmy. He doesn't want to lose it.

Let's start with the song that plays during this nightmare dungeon- Counting Backwards From Infinity. From the erratic bassline to the random samples of people shouting numbers in no particular order over and over again, this song simply screams disorder and panic. As a person who has always struggled with math, it's incredibly relatable. Counting Backwards From Infinity always reminded me of taking math tests in high school. I was so slow that I almost never could finish a test in a single class period. The frantic, wild bass and the cacophony of people screaming numbers out of order reminded me of trying desperately to remember how to solve a type of problem- and do it quickly enough so that I could hand the test in before the bell rang. I imagine that this is how Jimmy feels when Andrew places in front of him a concept that the boy does not fully understand. Perhaps he's had it explained to him several times but still can't fully grasp it (likely because, again, the kid is eight). The wild confusion and stress he feels when he doesnt fucking understand what's in front of him and doesnt want to look like an idiot in front of his dad. Even the name of the song is a reference to the fact that at this stage of his life this stuff may be an insurmountable task.

The dungeon itself is also set up in an incredibly confusing way. There's a bunch of bizarre-looking purple structures and winding paths. You teleport all over the place with no particular rhyme or reason. The enemies in this area, too, are deformed geometrical shapes that are almost Lovecraftian in the way that they cannot be understood. To Jimmy, Andrew's teachings might as be as comprehensible as a Lumpagon or a Squiggles, and that's definitely the idea that one gets here. The confusion, the pressure, the panic.

At one point in the dungeon you're teleported to a fakeout area that looks like the Path of Enlightenment. This is my favorite thing about the Asymmetrical Cavern, because of the fact that it has so many cool secrets, but also because it gave me a feeling that I could (once again) relate to. Jimmy's teleportation to the Path of Enlightenment isn't random. It represents familiarity in a sea of confusion. Jimmy sees something he recognizes during Andrew's lessons. Maybe he thinks that he's finally got the hang of it- that he's studied hard enough and now all of this jargon makes sense- only to be rudely awakened by the fact that he's been doing it wrong and never understood the concept in the first place. Even the secrets kind of hint at this. If you speak to pointman in this part of the dungeon he says "I am the blood of numbers leaking from your ears. The nails of ignorance are already being driven into your brain. What point is there in giving voice to madness?" (which is metal as fuck by the way)

Jimmy just thinks that his inability to understand makes him an idiot. His lack of understanding- the nails of ignorance- are being driven into his brain. If he can't understand all of Andrew's teachings, maybe he was never a smart boy after all.

And finally let's talk about Imaginary Numbers itself. First of all, it's an amalgamation of a bunch of different mathematical symbols, including a tombstone, a slashed epsilon, and a sigma. I'm sure there are more, but those are the only ones I recognized, honestly. Given that dreams don't really make things up, instead just taking things that you have seen/experienced before, it looks like Jimmy has encountered some... seriously advanced shit. Tombstones are used in geometric proofs. I only started doing proofs in high school geometry, meaning that Jimmy may very well be learning concepts meant for kids twice his age. No wonder the poor kid is stressed.

Oh yeah, also the boss sucks ass to fight. I've heard some people call that bad game design, but I'm not sure that's how I'd classify it. Sure, like I said, the boss sucks complete ass to fight and is almost entirely RNG-dependent. From a gameplay standpoint, this is wack as hell, yeah. Fucking 30% chance to deflect any magical or physical attack with a 30% chance to dodge a physical attack on top of that? Definitely bad game design. But from an artistic standpoint? Not at all. In fact, the futility of this fight adds to it. It really drills into your head that the only thing on your side here is pure fucking luck. And the odds aren't in your favor.

The feeling of futility- of the fact that this may in fact be, by all definitions, an insurmountable task for Jimmy, really struck home the situation. The battle would not be nearly as impactful without this. And personally, I'm all for it. Imagine walking into the Asymmetrical Cavern for the first time, not knowing what to expect. You get your ass handed to you on a silver platter by Imaginary Numbers after it chains Program Omega at you five times in a row.

That's the feeling Kasey wanted to give you. And it's critical. It's just... so perfect, I honestly don't know how to put it into words. It was supposed to represent the confusion and turmoil of a task nigh insurmountable. And it did the job pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.

I know Jimmy is good at numbers and this wasn't supposed to represent a real struggle with the subject of math/the concept of numbers in general, but hot damn if I didn't feel seen. Except Jimmy is eight but I was like 17 struggling in precalc with the same shit. I guess we know Jimmy's smarter than I am rip

TLDR; andrew please stop putting unnecessary stress on your kid youre freaking him out

anyway if you guys have any thoughts about this boss or this dungeon in general i would love to hear them. but where im at its like 2 AM so im probably gonna it the mf sack for now. later dudes

#jimmy and the pulsating mass #jatpm #analysis #theory #my thoughts #longpost #textpost #nightmare boss #if i had to fight this boss in real life i would simply pass away #jatpm spoilers #jimmy and the pulsating mass spoilers #yeah

30 notes · View notes

dysphxtric · 3 years

Text

Mental Illness - My Mental Health Story

TW: Depression, Anxiety, Self harm, Suicide, Sexual Harassment

“You should smile more.”

“It could be worse.”

“Just don’t think about it.”

These were the phrases I heard throughout all of my elementary and high school years. There was never a time when my peers and teachers, would not mention some bizarre, ignorant statement revolving around mental health. Not to mention, my family also contributed heavily to the stigmatization of mental health issues. Essentially, my family approached the subject of mental health with extreme hesitation, they refused to talk about how it affects people of all age, gender, ethical background (etc.) Every time I would say “I’m feeling lost” my family would automatically dismiss my frantic worries and it was not any different when I went to school. My peers would continuously remind me that my pain was not valid and that I need to stop being so sensitive. My primary parental figures, my mother and brother did not have the adequate knowledge or tools to be able to hold space for me. I would frequently hear my mom say, “I could understand someone suffering from PTSD feeling upset or sad but you’re so young and healthy honey, you have nothing to worry about” or the old classic “Someone else has it worse than you”. Whether I was at home or at school, I heard the same ignorant statements spewing out from what felt like everyone. And I could never comprehend what was the point of these falsely “encouraging” statements and why profusely use them? These kinds of statements do not uplift, nor do they empower those struggling with mental health issues, if anything it makes it extremely debilitating when your emotions are not acknowledged nor validated. One cannot expect to simply brush away another person’s emotion, thought or feeling as though it means nothing.

With that being said, growing up, I lived in a dysfunctional household alongside my mother, my older brother, and my grandmother. My mother would always be juggling work, schooling, and her dating life. My brother was very reluctant about staying home so he would always vanish after school, hang out with friends, party hard and engage with various street substances. Now my grandmother? It was not long after she immigrated that she began to immerse herself within the Jehovah’s Witnesses ideology and “religiously” strayed away from us as my mother likes to say. My mother was never fond of religious practices that were not “orthodox”. My grandmother wanted to indoctrinate my mom, brother, and I into joining her religious little club but failed which resulted in countless fights, yelling matches, and multiple dents left in our walls. The back and forth with the yelling was what scared me most in my childhood even if it was over something as small as not closing the cabinet door. I think it was around this time period I experienced violence/ trauma at home and truth be told I was extremely stressed and anxious all the time as a kid. My mother would cover the punched indents by taking magazines and sticking pages onto the indent. Often times my stomach would turn as I looked at the pages covering the area where my brother punched the wall with brutal force. Moreover, I felt impending sadness because all I ever wanted was for everyone in my family to be able coexist and not argue. I was trying to keep the peace between everyone, yet I was always the one that got caught in the middle of everything whether I liked it or not. I would get blamed a lot for trying to mend things for everyone. Even though all I wanted was the best for all my family members.

Fast forward to my pre-teen/ teenage years. By this point, my brother and grandmother were no longer living under the same roof as my mother and I. My brother was living with his ex-girlfriend while working as a security guard meanwhile my grandmother was living in her own little subsidized apartment preaching the word of Jehovah. At that particular time, my mother and I lived in a marvellous urban semi-detached house in a peaceful neighbourhood. My mother’s boyfriend had moved in with us and for the most part I was really happy because at least it was not just me and her.

My mother’s boyfriend lived with us while I was going to school. He was a really nice, caring and warm-hearted individual although I could never understand why my mother argued with him so much. I once told him “You should propose to her, I can see you two together forever” to which he replied with a welcoming smile.

But eventually just like with all good things, there comes an end. The inevitable breakup my mom went through was very bitter and I had to be there for her. Afterall, I was technically the only child that was around to emotionally comfort her. Ironically, the breakup occurred during the time I was being bullied in school. And it was difficult to be fully present for my mother while dealing with a lot of negativity at school. I had been experiencing cyber bullying on MSN by a bunch of peers calling me “weird”, “ugly” and “different”. To make matters worse, the group of kids that bullied me online ended up following me everywhere I went for recess which posed as a big obstacle for my well being. I had to eat inside the portables when teachers weren’t around or inside the girl’s bathroom stall just to avoid being teased. I never felt like I had a safe space to myself where I could be vulnerable and open up. Not to mention, it was a difficult time and there was practically no one I could confide in. I didn’t have a social circle of supportive friends, after all I was an antisocial person. Fear washed over me as I worried about disclosing my unpleasant experience to my mother because she was already dealing with so much, the heartbreak, the bills, work problems (etc.), it was then and there that I decided to lie instead of telling the truth. Ultimately, lying became my cooping mechanism to deal with the ongoing pain.

I kept up the lying for a long time in order to make it seem like everything was okay. I lied to everyone from family members to school peers to the teaching staff to principals to counselors.

For the longest time, lying sheltered me from all sorts of unnecessary questions. No one could really tell whether I was truthful or disloyal because I was able to make it sound believable. When I was a teenager, I continued to go down the same destructive path by being dishonest with myself and others. Many times, the thought of suicide crossed my mind and when I started to think about it and plan/coordinate the intricate details it did not hit me that something was very wrong, and I needed urgent help. A big part of the problem was that I was so used to downplaying my pain, given my family circumstance and stigmatization I experienced growing up with. There is no denying that I would engage in negative self talk convincing myself that I deserved the pain and suffering for not being likeable enough or for not being smart enough.

Sometimes I think that is the thing… people do not understand that I lied because that was what I was required to do in order to survive my childhood. I, myself do not tolerate lying and I think it is a form of betrayal and if I were to be completely honest, I would have NEVER lied to my mom had it been safe for me to express myself authentically in my household.

I did not live in a household where it was safe to speak my mind freely and disagree with my mother. Disagreeing was always the last thing I wanted to do, disagreeing meant I got the belt, my devices would get confiscated or that I was going to get grounded. They say, “Honesty is the best policy” and I do not disagree however, it is not as black and white as one may think. In my situation, lying was not only an adaptive coping mechanism but it became a survival mechanism to keep me safe from harm/threat.

I did not have very much individuality growing up. I felt as though having an opinion of my own was bad. In order to perpetuate this fixated mindset that I had, my mother constantly deemed certain attributed behaviours or thoughts as “good” or “bad”. So, say you were upset about a recent breakup with your partner, my mother would scoff and say, “You know life isn’t just about love right?” and play it like it means nothing to the person affected by the situation.

The first time I ever felt depressed was when I was 13. At that age I did not understand why I was feeling what I was feeling. All I knew was that there was something wrong with me. It did not help when I was being picked on by my classmates telling me “Go die”, “You belong in a ditch ugly bitch.”

The moment when things started getting out of hand was when I was first started my Art and Family Studies class in the same semester. In both classes I was placed into groups amongst other students. In Family Studies I had to be in a collaborative group that would divide responsibilities and tasks accordingly. When it came to cooking, my group consisted of four snobby, rich yet immature peers who were unwilling to help and contribute in any shape or form, I had to become the bigger person and sure enough I took all the responsibilities on myself. Though, it was not a smart move. But I was super shy and felt anxious to do anything different least to say speak up and advocate for myself, so I did what I had to do which was prepare meals, clean, and wash the dishes. At the end of the day, none of my peers thanked me, the only thank you I got was getting groped while washing the dishes and getting laughed at.

After what happened I ran to my best friend in tears to tell her what happened just to find her say “It’s not that bad, you’ll be fine” I felt like my blood was going to boil and I was about to start fuming. I stood thinking “Huh, that is so weird, is this how you comfort a person after being sexually harassed?”

Not to sound all grim but that experience showed me that no one really cared about me. No one cared that I got groped or how I felt in that moment. Let alone not even my “best friend” who was supposed to fulfill her role and be there for me. All I wanted was comfort and to be heard out. I could not even tell my mother about this experience until I turned 21 because of how ashamed I felt carrying around that experience and not having the ability to open up and mourn what happened that day and to be able to heal that damaged part of myself. I carried that incident with me for 7 years in silence because I was scared of being honest.

That specific experience was very detrimental to my mental health. Everything began to spiral out of control, I sprawled into a dark depressive state. I began to have intense panic attacks, insomnia, forgetfulness (etc.) After a certain duration of time, I had thoughts of suicide lingering at the back of my head. I questioned my worth, my identity, my culture, my everything.

The bullying and name calling persisted and became so intense that I ended up missing weeks of school time. Some of the boys in my Art class found it funny to make fun of my last name and call me “Prostitute”.

One day in the early springtime, my Art teacher noticed the marks on my wrists as I was painting and had not said anything until I made it to my last period class. I was called down to the guidance counselors office and was interrogated with questions.

“It has come to our concern that one of the staff members noticed cuts on your arms.”

I sat in silence trying hard to contain my anxiety.

“Are you struggling with depression or low mood? Is everything okay at home?”

It came to the point when I got so tired of lying about my pain that I admitted “Yes, I am struggling, I need help”. I dived into the bullying occurrences, the cat calling, my low grades, my self-esteem, the groping, my home situation (etc). After that, I was told that my mother would have to be called down to the school for “safety” reasons even though my counselor promised not to disclose any personal information to my mother. My greatest fear was that I did not want my mom to know that something was wrong.

Of course, my mom came to my school. She was told everything that had happened. I met her at the counselor’s office just to find her wailing in distress “You are such an embarrassment” and “Your counselor told me what you did, how could you do this?”. When the counselor gave us resources for help, my mother grabbed the papers and shoved them into the trash, got up and yanked me out the office.

The next three days that followed, my mother withdrew into her room not saying a word to me. I felt really uneasy and upset. She had her right to be alone but locking herself away from me and avoiding communication altogether? Didn’t make much sense.

I felt extremely guilty for not opening up to my mother sooner. But instead of choosing to be compassionate and caring she chose to resort to anger. She furiously blamed me for being “quiet” and “not trustful” which all landed on my shoulders again. It was “my” fault I thought.

Bottling this up resulted in a full-blown mental breakdown. I could not focus or concentrate because of everything building up. It came to the point where my mom had to choose between living in a toxic community or starting fresh elsewhere.

And even though my mother kept subjecting me to her harmful stigmatizations, the transition from my old school to my new one helped me greatly. When we moved away, I gradually started to feel better emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. Very quickly, I ended up adapting to my new high school where I finally made friends.

One thing I cannot deny is that there definitely was a silver lining to all of this. Although I went through severe bullying and torment at school and home, I managed to reclaim my power and through that I discovered my inner peace after being extracted from my toxic high school. The new school that I ended up attending completely changed me and inspired me to become a more authentic version of myself. It was almost as though I did a complete 180°

My new peers and teachers were enthusiastic, open-minded and caring. The new community I was surrounding myself in was a very positive one that broke down stigmas and encouraged deep understanding and acceptance. My mind was blown when I found that it was easier to conversate with girls and guys at my new school, I was gradually becoming confident and more vocal, and I liked the feeling of not hiding myself away from the world. It felt rejuvenating to finally be heard and seen by others.

Slowly but surely, I began to partake in various activities at my school. I joined the Poetry Club which I would have never considered joining had I stayed back in my old school due to fear of how I was perceived. Ultimately, I started caring and nurturing myself more. My new friends supported me, and teachers began to openly listen to my stories and encouraged me to write. When I started writing, I realized that I could use this medium to cope with my depression and anxiety. The acknowledgment made a major difference in my life like never before.

If it were not for the transition from my old high school, I would have not made progress in developing into the woman I am today. I know that I am not my pain, I am not my mistakes.

Do I still struggle and have bad days? Yes, of course. Just like any human being I have my days when I am not feeling the greatest however, I am more open to learning about how to engage with my mind, body and soul in order to soothe myself during turbulent times. I still have that inner critic however, I have been engaging with activities such as bike riding, painting, drawing, and reading to help occupy my mind which as a result has reduced the time that I spend ruminating. Occupying myself has worked magic, I am now able to reduce and control how much time I spend self-loathing, criticizing, and judging myself. Rather than judging every thought, I’ve learned to slow down and observe.

If you stuck along until the end of my story, I want to thank you for reading through my experience. My hope is that my story can shed some light on the myths and stigmas surrounding mental health, especially within the Eastern European community. I want you all to know that you are ALL valid and I wanted to be able to share my story so that my readers know that they are not alone.

#mental health #mental health awareness #depression #mdd #mood disorder #anxiety #gad #my story #hope #bullying #narcissistic parent #end the stigma #recovery #fyp

38 notes · View notes

bts-hyperfixation · 4 years

Text

Done deal - kinktober day 2

Demon Jimin

Smut 18+

This was meant to be a drabble.... Guess I'm doing some one shots too 🤷🏼‍♀️

Warning: teeniest mention of abusers in form of a spell to get revenge, nothing graphic

It had taken you a long time to find this ritual. Your college thesis was about cult followings and the use of romantic spells amongst young women. You had spoken to over 100 women about their relationship with the occult. Most that replied to your advertisement had dabbled in small spells, little love chants, and apple peal initials. A few however had mentioned the large tome that you had come in search of.

These women claimed that the magics this book contained were real, and dangerous. Because of this each one refused to tell you where they had found the unique grimoire, only telling you they no-longer had it in their possession. All their warnings did was intrigue you more. It took you weeks to track down a copy, which is why you are now sat in a tiny bookstore 3 towns over. You were the only customer in the building, and the elderly checkout clerk had barely looked up from the knitting she was working on when the bell on the door announced your entrance.

The occult section had its own room at the back of the store, volumes of texts stretched far above your head covering the walls. Luckily, the book you had come for stuck out against the rest. It was bound in black leather with a purple trim, a heart dripping blood was emblazoned on the side. In fact, it looked hauntingly real. You pull it off the shelf and place it on the table. Running your finger along the spine gives you a fierce electric shock.

First you open to a random page. ‘How To Skin A Man Alive’ the title reads, in graphic detail it explains what is needed in order to perform the ritual

1. The wrath of a woman abused

2. A weapon taken from him

3. Velvet ropes

4. A blindfold

5. An athame

You turn back to the index before reading the terrifying gore you are sure is about to follow.

The incantation you were looking for was to fix unrequited love. In your studies you had found this was the most common use of romantic magics in your target demographic. You find the spell quickly almost as if your finger was drawn to it.

‘How To Bring Them To You’ even for an ancient text this page was beaten up. The corners curled in and some of the diagrams were barely legible. Weirdly, the charm itself seemed to be in mint condition. To cast the spell, you only needed four candles and thoughts of your beloved. It was overwhelmingly simple, so simple you had to try. You found candles easily in a chest in the corner. You set them in the shape suggested on the page and committed the chant to memory. The problem with simple spells however is they can easily go awry from lack of focus. You gave to much attention to saying the words and not enough on the thoughts of your beloved.

You finished the verse and the flames went out, spooky but not cause for concern. Through your research you had found very little evidence of these things being anymore than an empty wish. You are scared out of your thoughts by the clearing of a throat behind you. A young man with an impish grin is stood in front of the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realise anyone else was here, I was just playing around” you say sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

“Darling, don’t you know you shouldn’t play with magic?” a blush creeps up your face as he makes eye contact with you. There is a burning intensity behind his eyes that makes you want to go to him. “I’m Jimin, and I believe you called for me.” He laughs as confusion crosses your features. “Oh, silly girl, you didn’t pay attention did you, your thoughts weren’t clear enough and instead of summoning the one you want you summoned them… or well me” he moved forward placing his hands on your arms. The touch burns you in the best possible way, a small whimper escaping your lips. The noise seems to feed him, his eyes flash red for a moment before returning to the inviting chocolate that you had been staring into.

It feels like your body is moving of its own volition as you lean into the stranger. Everything about him is enticing his scent, his clothes, his pink plump lips… your eyes close as you go to kiss him. He obliges you with a lazy kiss. You let out a moan as his tongue snakes into your mouth. You jump in shock when you feel the forked split against your own tongue.

“I didn’t think it’d be this easy baby, some put up a little fight first, confusion is a terrible mood killer” he chuckles more to himself then to you. You are too hypnotised by his presence to fully comprehend his words; all you know is you want him. You go to kiss him again but he stops you “Now, now, dear we have plenty of time for that, first I need you to snap out of my thrall, it’s much more fun for me when the pleasure I inflict is all your own” He pinches your cheek roughly shattering the rose coloured fog it felt like you’d been stuck in. “Tell me, do you still want me?”

“Yes” there was no hesitation in your words. It was clear that this man was not human, but it was also clear that he was the hottest thing you had ever seen. Even without the thrall all you wanted was to taste more of his skin. He made no attempt to wait once the consent was out of your mouth. You were his now.

He pulled your clothes from you with no resistance and kissed down your stomach to your thighs. He pushed you back onto the chair you’d been sitting in when he materialised and spread your legs for access. His fingers slip straight up your slit gathering your arousal and using it to rub at your clit. The sudden roughness of his ministrations make you gasp, and you watch his eyes flit red again. He doesn’t take long to run his long tongue along your heat. The sensation makes you shiver as you melt into his touch. His long tongue finds its way inside you causing a new level of pleasure you had never experience. He fed off every moan that tumbled from your lips as he worked you closer and closer to your first orgasm. Your high is ripped from you unexpectedly as he pulls away and you whine at the loss.

“I’m sorry darling it’s so much better for me if we cum together” he reasons and pulls you from the chair. He backs you into a corner against the books and traps you there. Kissing you roughly this time, making you taste yourself in his mouth. His clothes had disappeared whilst you weren’t paying attention and he rubs himself against your entrance. He is big, you aren’t sure how big because he won’t let you pull away from his kiss, but the thought of him inside you scares you.

You don’t have time to fully realise your fear as he lifts you and lines himself up. The stretch burns and tears form in the corners of your eyes. He shushes you and strokes your hair soothingly with the hand he isn’t using to support you. The burn starts to ebb, and like he can sense the change he begins to move. Starting slow, the anticipation is almost unbareable but he can’t keep himself slow for long. He losses control and becomes feral. Your head bounces violently against the shelves as he chases his high. Still you can feel your orgasm approaching as your vision fades in the corners. He releases rope upon rope of hot sticky cum deep inside you and holds himself there for awhile as he recovers. His eyes slowly revert to brown as he comes down and he puts you back on your feet, making sure to hold you so you don’t fall.

“Sorry dear, I usually have more composure than that, but you are just so delightful” his tongue darts out and licks his lips “I’m so glad you’re mine now” You’re head shoots up at that

“what do you mean yours?”

“You brought me to you, now I get to keep you, that’s what you consented to” He shrugs acting like it’s the most normal thing in the world “I will see you soon my darling” he winks at you and with that disappears from the room.

Kinktober

Masterlist

#bts smut #jimin fic #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin x reader #bts jimin #bts fic #demon #100

255 notes · View notes

ramblings-of-a-mad-cat · 3 years

Note

How’ve you never been a Draco anti? Just cause he was a teenager doesn’t mean he had the right to make disgusting racist comments and do other ignorant shit. Age is just a number. I don’t mean that in a creepy sexualising way or anything but there’s never an age where it’s okay or acceptable to be racist and just be a terrible person overall. Sorry I’m all for respecting opinions and whatever but I really can’t comprehend how you apparently didn’t go anti for him. You called him insufferable in the Malfoy TLSQ but that wasn’t even him at his worst 😒

(Going under the cut, this became a #LongPost)

Did I say that? I don't doubt it but I have no memory of this and I don't really think I'd agree with that description anyway. Because he really wasn't insufferable during that quest, you're right. He was pretty spoiled for sure, and if anything I was pleased to see that side of him which the films could occasionally downplay. Like, don't get me wrong, Jason Isaacs is amazing, but he has specifically talked about his motivation during interviews, how he wanted to build sympathy for Draco by being such a cruel father. Which is just...not the kind of dynamic Lucius and Draco had, and I've talked about this before, but Lucius abusing Draco is just very out-of-character if you ask me. It's also the secret backstory of every cheesy Draco redemption fanfic ever and by no means is that limited to his character, but he's a prominent example of the trope. Ben Solo is another.

As far as the books go, Draco is another character like Snape where he gets downplayed. In the early books, he was such a pain in the ass, but I never took him seriously as a threat even as a child. I knew enough about bullying to recognize how small he felt on the inside. In no way does this make it okay for him to behave the way he does in books 1-5, I'm just saying that he was scarcely a character that I would even argue earned the title of "villain." He was Harry's school rival. The worst thing he did, by far, was the entire framing of Buckbeak. Painting this narrative of him being the innocent victim of a savage monster, with Hagrid as the negligent fool who let it happen. Draco felt humiliated and wanted revenge, and he saw an opportunity to try and get Hagrid fired. And amazingly, despite an entire classroom of witnesses who can verify that Hagrid did everything by the books and that Draco's own arrogance got him just a minor scratch....he is still, even next year, telling people like Rita Skeeter about the Hippopriff attack. How is he getting away with that? Well, I say this, and then I remember that the man behind the "Anti Vaccine" study had his license revoked after it was debunked and yet he continued to give lectures about the dangers of vaccines...

Boy, I'm getting off topic. Draco's character just doesn't bother me that much because I don't take him seriously. The Buckbeak Incident was his worst moment by far, but he remains a stagnant character for the first five books. And god damn, how can I not empathize with him starting in Half Blood Prince? Voldemort selects him for a mission that he fully expects to result in his death, all to punish Lucius. It is made very clear to Draco that he must murder his school Headmaster, Albus freaking Dumbledore. I have already on many occasions, documented how much this world reveres him as an all powerful, omniscient force of nature. I doubt I need to reiterate just how daunting and impossible this task would and did start to feel for Draco. But the consequences for failure were plainly stated. Either Dumbledore had to die, or Draco and his parents would die. He was all of sixteen years old, and he was cornered by Voldemort, when his family was already deeply involved with the Death Eaters.

I hold nothing against Draco for any choice he made in HBP. What was he supposed to do? He was trapped. He had no reason to trust Snape or Dumbledore, and they were probably his only lifelines. Even if he had managed to escape Voldemort, his parents would still have been in danger. Dumbledore offers them protection up in the Astronomy Tower, but how does Draco know he's telling the truth? How does he know that to be a promise that Dumbledore can keep? In the end, he couldn't do it. He didn't have it in him to take Dumbledore's life. Despite all that pressure on him. I think that means something. The stress of trying to carry out the mission was making him physically ill. Oh, and this was the year that Harry hit him with Secumsempra. Probably the stupidest thing Harry ever did, and I'd say it leaves them even for Ron and the poisoned mead, however indirectly. After Snape kills Dumbledore, Draco just tries to keep his head down. All he can do is nod or shake his head whenever Voldemort addresses him at Death Eater meetings.

When The Golden Trio is captured and taken to Malfoy Manor...Draco's fear, and his growing moral conflict, show themselves again. He cannot commit to identifying Harry, even though we're meant to assume he knew damn well that it was Harry. Now, sure. You can argue that he wanted to wait and be absolutely sure before they went as far as summoning Voldemort. Or you can argue that he just didn't want Voldemort to show up because he was frightened of him. I think that's more likely. Because Harry under a stinging hex is one thing, but Hermione? When asked if Hermione was who they thought she was, he once again gives an evasive "Yeah, it could be." Like it's not clear as day. Draco flip-flops a lot during Deathly Hallows. He does try to capture Harry during the Battle of Hogwarts...and a childhood best friend dies before his very eyes. Ultimately, Harry's choice to save Draco winds up being a positive inversion of his choice to save Wormtail. Saving Wormtail guaranteed Voldemort's return. Saving Draco, on the other hand, ensured Narcissa's cooperation, and thus, it bought enough time for Neville to kill Nagini, and doom Voldemort once and for all. Harry saving Draco made all the difference.

In canon, Draco is little more than a sleazy coward. His story echoes that of Regulus, and sometimes I like to imagine what it would be like if he had taken on a more heroic role toward the end and had a more complete redemption. That said, I don't strictly speaking, mind that he didn't. I love the image of the Malfoys just huddled together after the battle, unsure if they're welcome or not, but no one is actually sparing them a thought. I also like final shot of them in the film, where they just up and leave. That works for them. There was apparently a cut scene where Draco was supposed to throw Harry his wand and properly defect...and while that would have been pretty cool, again: He didn't need a full redemption necessarily. The books kind of ran out of time, especially since there was no eighth year. Draco was not emotionally ready to do the right thing. But he had learned enough about himself and the world to know that he was uncomfortable doing the wrong thing. It's easy to parrot the slurs you're taught from the cradle, but as you get older and are expected to start participating in hate crimes and things of the like...you might begin to realize just how fucked up it all is. Even if the realization is slow. Even if you're not brave enough to take a stand.

TL;DR: Early books Draco is annoying, but no more so than a fly. I just kind of brush him off. Late books Draco is actually a very compelling character and he has my sympathy.

#Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Harry Potter Analysis #Lucius Malfoy #Narcissa Malfoy #Lord Voldemort #Harry Potter Books #Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince #Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

25 notes · View notes

cherienymphe · 4 years

Text

Can’t Be Bought (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

{This is my very first dark fic, so let me know what you think. I have @sherrybaby14 and @darkficsyouneveraskedfor to thank for giving me the courage to finally join this side of tumblr.}

Part II

WARNINGS: NON-CON! {IF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE DNI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED}

Summary: You’ve gotten a job at the infamous Thrombey mansion with the help of your best friend Marta. It isn’t perfect, but it pays well. Your only true complaint takes the form of one Ransom Drysdale who seems to have had a problem with you from day one.

You forced a smile, collecting the empty champagne glasses as Walt and Morris laughed at the joke they’d made at your expense. Joni grimaced in response, shooting you an apologetic look as you turned away and decided to make yourself useful in the kitchen. You set the tray down with a sigh, forcing your shoulders down, reminding yourself that a job was a job, and you had been paid good money.

You didn’t wait on anyone. Not since your last job years ago that you had gotten during senior of high school in order to have a little pocket change. Since then, you had gone to college and had been studying your butt off for the past three years. Unfortunately, circumstances that you had still yet to fully comprehend, had forced you to look for a source of income, and that was how your best friend proposed the idea of working for Mr. Harlan Thrombey himself every once in a while.

The Thrombeys were known for their wealth, and when your best friend had first started working for the patriarch, you had been nervous…rightfully so. While Harlan was as sweet as could be, the rest of his tribe left much to be desired. They were the kind of privileged and bigoted beings that you prided yourself on steering clear of for most of your life. Even Joni, while meaning well, still had her moments where you wondered how a woman her age couldn’t grasp something so basic a 4th grader could understand. Meg was perhaps the only redeemable one of the bunch.

Nevertheless, you were taken on as a part time employee, helping out at whatever weekly shindig the family decided to host. It was tiring at best, but with the money you pocketed, there really wasn’t much room for complaint. Really…there was only one true problem with the job.

Marta, your best friend and nurse for the wealthy novelist himself, was in the home somewhere having to deal with unnecessary demands and racist jokes from her employers just as you were. Her main concern however was always Harlan, and you never envied that position more than you did now as you heard a newcomer enter the home, his arrival welcomed by a chorus of groans and protests.

You swallowed, shoulders tensing for just a moment before you forced the negative feelings down. As delightful as the family was, there was only one person who could warrant that kind of reception.

“(Y/N)…I was worried that you wouldn’t be here tonight. What a disappointment that would have been…”

You looked up, dark eyes connecting with those of the devil himself.

Ransom Drysdale.

Ransom was Harlan’s grandson, tall and muscular and dark-haired, the epitome of handsome some would say. Hell on earth, others might add.

“Hugh,” you greeted evenly.

He preferred “the help” call him Hugh.

“(Y/N),” he replied just as evenly with that familiar smirk ghosting along his pink lips.

He stepped through the doorway of the kitchen, and you looked away, continuing your task of filling up some more glasses. The drunker the family became, the rowdier they got, and keeping the alcohol flowing was always the best thing for you.

“All of the festivities are out there, you know.”

He was closer now, not close enough to touch you, but close enough to make you uncomfortable. Truthfully, Ransom had always made you uncomfortable. You weren’t exactly sure when it started. You’d always known of him, of his antics, his personality, and reputation. Before you had even met him, you didn’t like him. He was the embodiment of everything you both hated and feared, and that made you uncomfortable, but it was for reasons even Marta could understand.

However, the first time you’d stepped foot into the eerie mansion all those months ago, nervous yet eager to finally earn your keep, Ransom himself was the first member of the family that you had encountered. He had stepped into the foyer, in the process of saying something to the housekeeper Fran, something incredibly snarky and offensive, no doubt, when he’d stopped short. It seemed that he had taken a few seconds to even notice you standing beside her, quiet and wide-eyed as you glanced around.

You never did forget that look.

He had snapped his mouth shut, tilting his head to the side in the most threatening way as his blue eyes studied you. If at all possible, you would have sworn that his eyes had clouded over, growing darker as the corner of his lip pulled upwards into a crooked smile. You had unconsciously inched closer to Fran, forcing a straight face as you fought to not look away.

“…and who is this?”

It was such a simple question. Hell, after everyone else had arrived, they’d all asked the very same question too, but not like Ransom had. They had simply wanted to know who you were and your purpose, visibly excited at the prospect of more help around the house, but Ransom… Ransom seemed to be most interested in your name. He was interested in your secrets, your weaknesses, what lay beneath your shirt. Ransom was interested in power over you.

“I believe I’m talking to you,” Ransom continued when you didn’t respond to his remark, pulling you from your reverie.

There was a boisterous laugh just as the sound of something breaking reached your ears. You swallowed an exasperated sigh before glancing up at him, quickly looking away as you found his intense eyes on you as he leaned on the counter.

“I’m working, Hugh,” was all you said.

You found it best to keep your responses to the trust find baby short and sweet. He was always trying to engage you in conversation, and while you knew that giving him as little attention as possible only kept the remarks coming, you believed it was better than entertaining his nonsense. There was no telling what the handsome man could talk you into.

“Surely you can talk and work at the same time. They don’t teach you that at school?”

You simply glanced at him again before grabbing the tray and making your way around him. Your shoulder brushed along his chest as you exited the kitchen, the smell of his cologne threatening to cling to your hair and skin, as if trying to suffocate you just like Ransom was.

Your appearance was met with cheers and eager hands as you brought more expensive champagne to the guests. The empty glasses in their possessions were swapped for full ones, and you bent down in order to safely collect the dirty dishes onto your tray.

“(Y/N), we’ve made a bit of a mess over here…,” Linda said, gesturing to the floor beside the couch she was sitting on “…we’d hate for someone to get cut on all this glass. Morris just can’t seem to hold his liquor.”

You forced another smile.

“Of course, I’ll be right out to get that after I put these in the kitchen,” you sweetly replied.

“You’re a saint,” Joni added just as Morris began to protest his wife’s statement about him.

The kitchen was empty when you entered, and you sighed in relief. It took no time for you to swap the tray of glasses for a broom and dustpan as you made your way back to the lively room. You weaved through the drunk guests, approaching the pile of broken glass when you were not so gently pushed. With a shriek you fell to the floor, the glass shards crunching beneath your hands and knees.

“What the hell, Ransom,” you heard Meg scream.

It wasn’t long before everyone else was tearing into your apparent assailant. You threw yourself back onto your butt as you frowned at your bleeding hands and knees. You had opted for an appropriate skirt tonight, pairing it with what you thought was a thick pair of tights, but the ripped fabric and your bleeding knees begged to differ.

“It was an accident,” Ransom finally threw back at the angry mob, but something inside of you knew better than that.

You hissed as you flexed your hands, unsure how to push yourself onto your feet without getting blood on anything. You didn’t have time to dwell on that as an unfamiliar pair of hands gripped your shoulders from behind, helping you up.

“Are you alright?” Ransom asked, lips brushing against your ear as his broad chest pressed into your back.

You flinched away from him, and you could have sworn you heard a soft chuckle escape his lips just before Meg practically shoved him away from you.

“Step away, you’ve done enough,” she snapped.

“I know they’re filling your head with man hating propaganda down in those libtard college courses, but it truly was an accident,” Ransom replied, hands raised in an innocent manner.

“Like anyone believes that,” Joni sneered as Meg guided you towards the bathroom, throwing a glare over her shoulder at the blue-eyed bastard.

Your knees stung as you walked through the house, and you couldn’t hold in the groan as you sat on the toilet seat, the skin on your knees stretching out. Meg was focused as she looked under the sink cabinets for a first aid kit, and the huff she let out told you that she hadn’t found one. She briefly placed her hand on the top of your head.

“I’ll be right back,” she said before hurriedly exiting the bathroom.

The response to Ransom’s assault wasn’t surprising. They hated him, sure, but the family also doted on you, that much was true, and sometimes you wondered if they saw you as something akin to a pet. A token poor person they could use as a charity case to make themselves feel better. You shook your head. Marta and Meg were really close, probably the only one in the family that she genuinely liked outside of Harlan. Meg wasn’t like that.

You heard footsteps approaching the bathroom, and looked up with a small smile, only for it to fall at the sight of a tall figure stepping in the doorway. You swallowed as you gazed up at Ransom, his presence making you nervous.

“Where’s Meg?”

You eyed him before answering.

“She went to go find a first aid kit,” you responded, eyes accusatory.

If he noticed your venomous gaze, he didn’t comment on it, only nodding as he took in your bloody knees and hands.

“Are you alright?”

Your frown deepened, and he chuckled before leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I really didn’t mean to push you-.”

“I don’t believe you,” you harshly interrupted. “You aren’t a nice person, Hugh. I don’t think you ever have been. I don’t know if you just don’t like me or you feel slighted by me or maybe you just think I’m fun to mess with, but I feel like you’ve had it out for me from the very first moment I stepped into this house.”

You briefly looked away from him, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not leaving. If that’s what you’re aiming for you might as well give it up now, because I need the money, and truthfully speaking, you are the only person who’s truly a pain in my ass here. You’re not as scary as you’d like to think, so just save your energy,” you spat.

His jaw ticked as he stared you down, eyes narrowed, and you heard the sound of approaching footsteps. You leaned back, glowering up at him as he stepped away. He slunk away just as Meg approached, and she stared after him in confusion.

“Are you okay? What did he want?” she demanded, clutching the first aid kit to her chest.

“Just apologizing,” you mumbled the lie.

Meg pursed her lips, a frown on her face before shaking her head and kneeling down before you.

“First things first, let’s get these tights off…”

You sat on the couch, head leaning back as you closed your eyes. There really wasn’t much you could do after Meg had cleaned you up and wrapped bandages around the offending areas. Marta and Fran were more than happy to step in and take over as you sat the rest of the evening out. You mainly sat with Meg, refusing anytime someone tried to coerce you into having a drink.

It wasn’t long before everyone began to retire, some piling into their expensive cars and leaving while others chose to sleep the fancy drinks off, opting to save the drive home for in the morning. Ransom was one of the last to slither away, eyes hardly leaving you for the rest of the night.

Normally, you would have left ages ago, but Marta insisted on driving you home. Your hands were injured, yes, but you were sure you were more than capable of driving yourself home. However, Marta wouldn’t hear anything of it, and eventually wore you down. That was how you found yourself waiting for her to finish up with Harlan as midnight approached.

You fought back a yawn, body worn out from your busy day. You honestly could have been home a while ago, but you knew that Marta would worry, and you figured there was no harm in humoring her. You did your best not to get impatient and fidgety. After all, you knew that caring for Harlan was a whole other job, but the pain killers Meg gave you were starting to wear off, and your hands and knees were beginning to ache again.

You glanced up as footsteps approached the living room, sharply inhaling at the sight of none other than Ransom. You had been under the impression that he’d left ages ago.

“You’re still here?” he chuckled, pulling on his signature brown coat.

You cleared your throat before answering.

“I’m waiting on Marta.”

He scoffed, and you watched as he glanced over his shoulder at the stairs before shaking his head.

“Marta never knows what kind of night she’s in for with the old man. Sometimes she leaves about this time, and sometimes she’s not pulling out of here till almost 2 in the morning,” he responded, approaching you.

You frowned at that, glancing at the stairs.

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home,” he offered.

You blanched, eyes widening as you looked at him.

“Don’t be ridiculous! My house is nowhere near where you live. You’d be going out of the way… I have no problem waiting for Marta,” you refused.

“(Y/N)-.”

“Really, it’s fine.”

He glanced at his watch before raising an eyebrow at you, that haughty smirk taking residence on his lips.

“It’s getting late. Don’t you have class tomorrow?”

You grimaced. He was right. Tomorrow was Monday. You shifted on the couch as he knelt down before you, one dark strand escaping and brushing along his forehead.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I really didn’t mean to bump into you. The least I can do is make sure you get home. I know your knees must be killing you,” he said.

You frowned, wincing as a sharp ache traveled through your left knee, as if to prove his point. You looked away with a sigh before reluctantly nodding. He was right. It was late and you were in pain. Ransom may have been the world’s biggest ass, but you weren’t that prideful to suffer instead of letting him take you home. With his help, you stood.

“Let me text Marta…,” you trailed off, realizing that that’d be kind of difficult with the bandages.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he said, pulling his own phone out with one hand while he helped you out of the door with the other.

Getting to the car was a rather slow and painful process, but you sighed in relief when you finally sagged into the passenger seat of the fancy vehicle. You leaned your head back against the headrest as the car purred to life, relaxing as the vibrations traveled through your frame.

The car ride was silent, but not uncomfortable. You were on the verge of dozing off anyway, and maybe Ransom knew that and that’s why he didn’t talk to you. You hoped Marta didn’t worry too much, and mentally reminded yourself to text her when you got home. You weren’t exactly sure when you’d fallen asleep, nor for how long, but it couldn’t have been no more than 15, maybe 20 minutes.

When you peeled your eyes open, it didn’t feel like you’d been sleeping for a long time, and you could feel the car slowing down. You frowned in confusion, blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you sat up. You couldn’t have gotten to your house that quickly, and as you glanced out of the window, you confirmed that you were right. Ransom pulled the car off into the grass on a long stretch of road, and your confusion grew as he turned it off.

“What’s going on?” you whispered as you turned to look at him.

Was he low on gas? That’d be so on brand for him. Your confused thoughts were a jumbled mess as he pocketed his keys.

“Hugh, what’s going on? Do I need to call triple A or…?”

He chuckled, reaching over you to open his glove compartment.

“You’re always calling me ‘Hugh’. Hugh, Hugh,” he complained, attempting to mimic your voice.

You scoffed, a confused and humorless chuckle escaping as you watched him pull a bottle of brandy out, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’ve said on numerous occasions that you want ‘the help’ to call you Hugh, so…”

You watched as he leaned back in his seat, opening the bottle and taking a sip as he raised his eyebrows with a nod.

“You’re right,” he agreed, almost regrettably. “I just…I just don’t think it will sound right. You know?”

You huffed, irritation growing as you glanced around.

“What are you talking about? What’s going on-?”

“Do you want some?” he offered, interrupting you.

“No! I want to go home, and you shouldn’t be drinking,” you admonished.

He took another sip, shifting to get comfortable as he stared through the windshield. You swallowed, your nerves standing on end as you watched him. You were so confused.

“You’re so sweet, (Y/N)…so much sweeter than Marta or Fran,” he scoffed her name. “It’s why I was so shocked at your outburst, tonight.”

“…what?”

He turned to look at you, blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness. They were so expressive and focused entirely on your frozen frame.

“Even more so when you admitted that you think I’m trying to get rid of you. As if I would ever let you get away from me,” he hummed.

Your nervousness grew, throat incredibly thick all of a sudden as you stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Hugh-.”

“Call me Ransom,” he said, cutting you off with both his words and his lips.

You gasped as he leaned over, pressing his fingers into the back of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time and pressed his tongue between your lips. You didn’t respond, simply staring at him as he kissed you, trying to process what was happening. It was only when his other hand dropped the brandy to make its way under your sweater did you finally react.

You yanked yourself away from him as best as you could, slapping him with no hesitation. Your chest heaved as you frantically pressed your back into the passenger door. He clenched his jaw as he stared at you before reaching up to touch his cheek.

“What the hell are you doing?” you exclaimed, a very real fear making its way into your system now.

“You can’t be that dumb,” was his only response, and he gave you a look as if you were exactly that.

You blinked at him, hand sliding along the door as you watched his every move.

“You walk around the house looking like that with those big innocent eyes, pretending like any of the men in my family wouldn’t risk it for a night with you,” he continued.

You opened and closed your mouth in shock.

“What-?”

“…but you’re mine, and they know that. They see the way I look at you, the way I talk to you, treat you.”

“I’m not-!”

“You were from the first moment I saw you. I was always going to have you. That was a given. It was only a matter of when and where,” he said it so matter-of-factly that it scared you.

He reached over and undid your seatbelt. You grabbed at his hands as he reached for your waist.

“You walk around like you’re too good for me. Is that what it is, (Y/N)? You think you’re too good for me? A Thrombey?”

You shoved against him, so hard that his back hit the driver’s door, and you hissed as your hands protested the action. You didn’t know if he was trying to scare you or…or if he was serious. Ransom was a lot of things, a lot of vile things, but he wasn’t…he wouldn’t…

His jaw ticked as he glared at you, and you saw one of his hands clench into a fist, the other sliding into his coat pocket.

“How much?” he finally asked, sounding almost exasperated.

You narrowed your eyes.

“Excuse me?”

He looked up at you from beneath his lashes.

“How much is it going to take, hmm? I know you need money. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be caught dead working for the Thrombeys, am I right?”

Anger rose within you as he pulled out his wallet, and you finally put two and two together.

“Fuck you, Ransom,” you snarled.

He smirked, eyes twinkling with something you were scared to name as he gazed at you.

“You think you can throw some money at me, and I’ll just open my legs for you?”

“Ten grand.”

“I don’t want your money you…asshole,” you spat, opening the door.

You hit at him, screaming as he grabbed your arm to pull you back into the car.

“Let go of me-!”

You cut yourself off with a gasp as he successfully pulled you back into the vehicle. In no time, he was over you, slamming the door closed and twisting his fingers in your hair. You let out a noise of protest, reaching up to push against his face when his other hand wrapped around your throat. Your eyes widened and you dug your nails into his arm, but he simply ignored you.

His other hand fumbled with something along the side of the seat, and before you knew it, the seat was falling backwards, taking you and Ransom with it. Fear began to settle in your gut as he had you completely pinned beneath him, now, his grip becoming tighter.

He’d never been this close to you before, ever. His hard chest was firmly pressed against yours, so much so that you could feel his heartbeat, and the calm rhythm you felt there brought tears to your eyes. You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest. You shifted, trying to kick him off or something when you felt it. You froze, eyes widening at the feel of a hard length pressing into the side of your thigh. You closed your eyes, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t happening.

“Hey,” he shook you, forcing your eyes open.

You trembled as he leaned down, nose brushing against yours as he kissed you. You cringed away from him despite the softness of his lips, wanting to be anywhere else.

“I am going to have you. That is what’s going to happen tonight…”

“No,” you managed to gasp, protesting as you attempted to shake your head.

“Yes,” Ransom replied as he nodded his head with an amused smirk on his face. “I am, and you can either lie back and enjoy it, or I’ll just hold you down and make you. It’s your choice.”

You let out a sob, and he let go of your neck. You coughed as he pulled away, and you looked around for anything to get you out of this.

“(Y/N).”

You glanced at him, fresh tears springing forth as he removed his jacket, the fitted sweater almost laughing at you as it showcased his arms, arms that could hold you down with ease. There was no hope for you. These thoughts plagued you as your eyes landed on the bottle of brandy on the driver’s side floor. Ransom followed your gaze before reaching over and grabbing it.

He held it up to you with raised eyebrows, and you hesitantly nodded. You reached for it, but he snatched it back out of your grasp, opting to open it himself before bringing it to your lips. You choked at first, never having been a fan of hard liquor, but it eventually slid down your throat with ease. He sat up a bit, bringing his hand to your hair to tilt your head back.

“Good girl. Whatever makes this easier,” he said, pulling it away.

You were tempted down the whole thing, preferring to just pass out and let him be done with it. The alcohol barely had time to settle hotly in your chest before he was pushing you back, pressing open mouth kisses to your neck.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” he whispered against your skin.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wincing when he reached down to twist the fabric of your underwear in his hand, yanking and breaking them with a loud pop. His lips found yours again, and you opened your mouth to him, the brandy making your head swim and your body buzz.

He ground against you, and you couldn’t stop a quiet hiss from escaping as the bulge in his pants rubbed against your naked core. You gripped his arms, you weren’t sure why, maybe to ground yourself. Everything was happening so fast, and your fogged brain couldn’t keep up. One of his hands caught on the neck of your shirt, and he ripped it open, drawing a protest out of you.

“Ransom,” you gasped.

“I’ll buy you a new one,” he mumbled into your mouth.

Your bra fared the same fate, and your nipples hardened from the cold atmosphere. You shivered, and Ransom pressed against you more, his huge frame shielding you from the cold. He bent his head to take one firm bud into his mouth, and you sharply inhaled. He gave the other one his attention, one of his hands sliding down. To your surprise, he slid one long finger inside of you with ease, and you clenched around him. When had you become so wet?

He hummed, adding a second finger as he flicked his wrist, curling them inside of you over and over again. He pulled a moan from you, and you moved your hand to cover your mouth, closing your eyes as you fought against the heat that was stirring within your gut. His other hand grabbed yours, pulling it away from your mouth just as you came, small gasps and whimpers escaping that he was all too eager to swallow.

Your pussy clenched again as he withdrew from you, and you blinked as you came down, realizing that your vision was spinning a bit, now. Everything was blurring together as you collapsed against the seat, head feeling incredibly heavy all of a sudden. You barely protested as he slipped your skirt down your legs, his sweater following soon after.

You may have been drunk, but you still remembered that you didn’t want this, and a part of you hoped that you could speak to something in him to make him stop.

“Ransom…please,” you mumbled.

He ignored you, too busy releasing himself from the confines of his pants. You dared not look, recalling the feel of it against your thigh, and you knew if you looked then he really would have to hold you down.

“Ransom,” you pleaded, and suddenly he was on you again, a hand on your throat.

“What did I say, hmm?”

His voice was soft, soothing even, but his eyes told a different story, and you started to cry.

“Come on, (Y/N)… You were doing so well,” he said in that patronizing tone that always annoyed you.

You turned your head away and gasped as he began to push his way inside of you. You weren’t a virgin, hadn’t been for a while, but you definitely weren’t the most experienced either. What he lacked in length, if he lacked anything at all, he made up for in girth. Your hands flew to his shoulders, digging into his skin with a vengeance as you stretched around him.

He hissed, and satisfaction bloomed in your chest, but it was quickly squashed when he grabbed your hands, one at a time, and pinned them down. His nose brushed along your collarbone as he bottomed out, and you fought to catch your breath. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck and inhaled, a shudder wracking his frame just before pulling back and snapping his hips against yours.

A strangled moan left your lips, and you tried to move your hands, but his grip was firm.

“I’m going to fuck you in every room of that house,” he groaned, thrusting inside of you.

You trembled beneath him, your mind and body at war. You rejected his words, attempting to remove yourself from the situation, but every time he treated, you clenched even more, as if your body was not only trying to prevent him from leaving, but trying to keep you aware. He eventually let go of one of your hands, and you clawed at the dewy window as your back dragged along the seat.

He tangled his hand in your hair, and you winced at the slight pain there, panting when he grazed his teeth along the skin of your neck.

“You want that? You want me to pin you down and let my family hear who you belong to?”

You shook your head, causing Ransom to chuckle.

“I think you do. I think you like what I do to you. You’re shaking your head, but the way you’re gripping my cock, right now says differently.”

“Ransom,” you gasped when his thrusts became harsher, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the car.

“You can beg all you want, but I own you, (Y/N),” he hissed against your lips. “It’s your word against mine, and I can get the best lawyers in town.”

You swallowed, tears building behind your eyes again as he finally let go of your other hand and gripped your neck. There was a thin layer of sweat on his chest, arms bulging and chest heaving from the effort it took to work his hips against yours.

“You even think of leaving, and I’ll just find you. I’ll tell my grandfather that you were fucking your employers, and you’ll be out of a job, no one will ever hire you,” he threatened.

“No,” you whimpered, at both his words and the coil that was tightening within you.

“Mm, and I’ll still have you as much as I want. Whatever you try, I’m going to have you, so make this easy on yourself, (Y/N),” he purred as you clenched around him. “Enjoy it.”

Broken moans escaped you, now and you dug your hands into his back.

“You know how many girls would kill to be where you are? Huh? I’m fucking you, and hundreds of girls would do anything to be beneath me, and here you are crying about it,” he sneered, pounding into you now.

You tried to keep it at bay, tried to stop it, but you came, tumbling over the edge with a choked sob that almost sounded like a moan. Ransom looked down to where you were connected and cursed.

“Shit,” he hissed, not taking his off of where he was rutting into you. “You’re fucking tight. Milk me, come on my cock. That’s it.”

You felt like it lasted forever as he talked you through it, and soon after you felt a warmth inside of you as he slammed into you one final time. You heaved, fighting to catch your breath and make sense of things as the brown liquor still coursed through you. When Ransom pulled out of you, you shuddered, even more so when the cold finally hit you. You were barely coherent as he maneuvered you, drunk and fucked out and on the cusp of sleep.

It barely registered that you were suddenly wearing a large sweater that wreaked of a cologne you’d smelled on numerous occasions, legs and core sticky from his cum. You heard him right himself, no doubt tucking himself into his pants. You could feel his eyes on you, and you barely peeled yours open to gaze at him as he situated himself and turned the car back on. He looked proud, smug even as he pulled back onto the road.

One of his hands came to rest on the inside of your thigh, digging his fingers into your flesh as he chuckled.

“I can’t wait to do this more often.”

That was the last thing you heard before sleep consumed you.

#ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey #ransom drysdale #knives out #hugh ransom drysdale #hugh thrombey #hugh drysdale

2K notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 4 years

Note

ahhh I love your work!! Can you please do 6 and 14 with female reader and Poe? :) I’m a big fat sucker for a juicy friends to lovers.

A Night on Courscant

Plot: Poe and Y/n are stranded on Coruscant searching for a hotel room. But when do things ever go according to plan?

Warnings: extreme steam 🔥

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Why does every Poe imagine I write turn so thirsty? 😂 I’m not upset about it. I also managed to get every trope possible in this one including the famed ‘there was one bed.’

(And thank you so much, anon, for the kind words!)

————-

6: “You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”

14: “Don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same way.”

————

It was supposed to be a one day diplomatic mission to Coruscant. We were supposed to be back at base by nightfall until our ship’s compressor had decided against that decision. I’d contacted Leia to let her know the situation and she said she’d send a ship first thing in the morning. Until then, Poe and I were walking through the heart of the metropolitan planet in search of a hotel for the night.

“If I remember right,” Poe pointed towards a cluster of smaller buildings, “One of those has rooms for pretty cheap. Between the two of us, we should be able to swing it.” 

“Good,” I replied, “I’m ready to put an end to this day.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” Poe pulled me into his side, “There’s a lot worse people to be stuck with for the night.”  I laughed, trying to ignore the hammering of my heart at being pressed against him. Falling in love during war was dangerous, but falling in love with your best friend during war was just plain unfair.

“Look at it this way,” Poe said, “We had to sit through a criminally boring meeting, lost our ship and are stranded on a planet we hardly know. It can only get better from here.”  Like clockwork, just as Poe had finished his sentence, it began to rain. Upon the first drops hitting, he bit down frustratedly on his lip and nodded.

“You’re right,” I said over the growing noise, “This is better.”  Poe sighed and reached for my hand, “Come on.”

We dashed through the city, weaving between people on the crowded sidewalks, as the light drizzle picked up and turned to a torrential downpour. Luckily, the hotel Poe knew about was close by and it didn’t take long to make our way over. However, with the strength of the storm, we were soaked to the bone by the time we got there.

Poe had compiled both our credits and we stood at the check-in desk, awaiting our room key. In my exhaustion, I hadn’t realized I was staring at my friend. The rain had soaked through the cream colored shirt he was wearing, making the outlines of his chest extremely visible. He’d pushed his wet curls off his face but one of them stubbornly stayed in place against his forehead, perfectly out of place. There was a reason that Poe was the poster boy of the Resistance, someone that beautiful deserved to have their face all over the galaxy.

Once the worker returned with our room key, Poe and I were quick to make our way up to our floor. The sooner we went to sleep, the sooner we’d get to go home. When Poe unlocked the room and switched on the lights, we were met with the surprise that there was only one bed.

“I could’ve sworn I asked the guy for a room with two beds,” Poe said.

“I was there, you did,” I sighed, my thoughts running rampant at our situation.

Poe rubbed at his neck, a nervous habit of his, “I guess we could make it work?”  “Yeah, of course,” I replied quickly, “I mean we’re…we’re friends.”  I must have been tired because I thought I heard Poe hesitate before saying, “Yeah, friends.”  He locked the door and we fully entered the room, I was trying to figure out how to navigate the night without it being too awkward. It was too late and I was too tired for a shower and it wasn’t like I had other clothes to change into. Not to mention I’d caught a chill during the storm and was freezing, all I wanted to do was get into bed.

“Um,” I began, “We’re going to need to, uh, get out of these clothes.”  Poe nodded, “I can turn around and you can get in bed, that way I won’t see anything.”  “O-okay,” I said, Poe promptly turned around and awkwardly cleared his throat. I peeled my long sleeved shirt off, followed by my boots and pants. I was left only in my undergarments, more cold than I’d been with my layers still on. I hurriedly climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over me.   “You’re safe,” I said, Poe slowly turned around and smiled at the sight of just my head peeking out from the blankets.

Without warning, he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders and reached behind him to pull his shirt over his head. I should’ve turned around instantly, but the shock of seeing his toned chest on display had caused my brain to short-circuit. After a few seconds, I caught myself and nervously turned on my side, mumbling an apology. I felt like a complete idiot. Poe moved under the sheets and I could feel the heat that practically radiated off of him warm the bed,

“Can I ask you something?” he quietly asked, I still hadn’t turned to face him.

“Sure,” I squeaked.

“If you were to describe you and I, what words would you use?”  I squinted in confusion, almost wishing that we would have gone to bed silently. Every word I wished I could use flooded my mind, but none of them had any place in our reality.

“Well,” I started, attempting to sound nonchalant “We’re friends.”  Poe hummed, “You keep saying that we’re friends but you look at me for a moment too long for that to be true.”

My eyes widened in horror before I turned over to face a very smug looking Poe.

“W-what are you talking about?” I asked.

 Poe gave me a knowing stare, “Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed how you look at me? I know because,” he took a deep breath, “It’s the same way I look at you.”  I must have looked ridiculous, my jaw slack and my eyes slitted as I tried to comprehend what Poe was admitting to. Was he saying…he felt the same?  “I-I-Poe, I don’t know what-I mean-“ I cut my babbling off with my hand running over my face.

“Y/n, you heard what I said, don’t pretend that you don’t feel the same way,” Poe said with a nervous laugh.  I turned my head to look at him, his deep brown eyes looked so determined and yet so vulnerable at the same time. It was taking a lot for him to admit his feelings to me, even if he seemed confident about it. If he could do it, then I could too…

“Yes, Poe,” I whispered before adjusting the volume of my voice, “I have feelings for you. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t do anything about them.”  “What?” he said, “I thought I just-“  “Yes, you did,” I interrupted, “And I’ve dreamed about hearing you saying something like that for so long but, Poe, we’re in the middle of a war. It’s a terrible idea for to get involved with someone when there’s a chance you’ll lose them the next day.” 

Poe’s eyebrows scrunched together sadly as he listened to me, I was fighting back a few tears myself. It broke my heart to say, but it was true. The one thing that had always stopped me from telling Poe how I felt was the paralyzing fear of getting to love him and then having him ripped away from me.

“I disagree,” he objected, scooting his body closer to me, “Yeah, we live more dangerous lives than most people but that doesn’t mean we should have to give up stuff like…this.”  With very little space left between us, Poe gently took my hand and pressed it to his bare chest, just over his heart. I could feel its steady beat, though clearly a little faster than usual with the moment we were wrapped up in.

“I know it’s scary, the thought of losing you has woken me up in the middle of the night too many times. But I can’t keep going on like this. I want to know what it’s like to hold you, to kiss you, I want to know what it’s like to love you. Whether we win or lose this war,” Poe’s voice cracked with emotion, “I want to be by your side.”

If he hadn’t made it easy on me before, he was making it nearly impossible now. With every word he said, my heart swelled and my mind went blank as it searched for a rebuttal.  “Please give us a shot, Y/n,” Poe whispered as he studied my face, trying to find his answer.

Words failed me as I felt the pounding of his heart in my palm, the metaphor of it not lost on me. Poe had laid everything out for me to either take or destroy. It was my call. And I knew with my new knowledge, I couldn’t spend another day living in the misery of loving him and not doing anything about it.

I slid my hand off his chest, grasping his hand and placing it on my hip. His fingers tensed at first at the feeling of my skin, his eyes locking with mine searching for hesitation. When he found none, he relaxed and squeezed my waist gently. I shifted closer into him till our chests were pressed together, I shivered at the contact as I shakily moved my hands to grip his shoulders. Poe maneuvered his arm under me to wrap around my waist, enveloping me in him. We were standing on the edge, about to fall into something wonderful.

“I-I think I can give you more than a shot,” I whispered, watching the way his eyes lit up at my words.

Poe slowly dragged a finger along my figure till he reached my chin, tilting my chin up so our lips met. Finally. Months of desire and longing exploded in a single kiss, the euphoria of the moment ran through my veins. Our lips danced together in perfect harmony, moving together slowly and passionately. Poe’s tongue slid between my lips, begging for permission to deepen the kiss, and I happily parted for him with a whimper. As he entered, he rolled onto his back and pulled me with him so I was straddling him. He sat up and pulled me tighter to him while also snaking a hand up to my back. I rocked against Poe as my hands slid into his wet hair, eliciting a groan from him at the combination of sensations. The hand against my spine moved to the back of my head, pushing me as close as he could possibly have me and intensifying our kiss. This was surely the definition of bliss; a soaking wet Poe Dameron moaning beneath me and kissing me like it was our last night alive.

———————

The next morning, redressed in our now dry clothes, we met Rey and Finn on a landing platform. The sight of the Falcon was a welcome one as Poe and I did our best to appear as if nothing had changed between us. Once we boarded, Rey came up and us both hugs, followed directly by a gasp.

“What?” I asked, worried she’d sensed something was wrong or-

Shit.

“Finn!” she called out before racing off to wherever he was, “You owe me twenty credits!”  “Were they betting on us?” I said with a horrified chuckle.

“Does it matter?” he smiled, “I’m the real winner, I finally get to be with you.”

#poe dameron #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x reader

101 notes · View notes

the-moon-prince · 3 years

Text

The Last Of us~Kurapika x Reader ~Chapter V

AN: Hi my lovely fellows!

This chapter contains a mention of sexual abuse. I understand how hurtful this topic may be to a lot of people (me included). Likewise, I'll mark it at the start and the end, so you don't have to read it if you prefer. I made sure for people to be able to read the chapter without reading forcefully that part. I added this as a form of venting. I feel like it's an avoided topic, and it's my form to show support to other trauma survivors. This was made with the only intention to comfort. If something is bad written or harmful, please tell me. I also ask for your understanding if you plan on commenting, thank you very much!

I wish you a pleasant read, and I hope you’ll enjoy the new chapter of my story. (Chapter I) (Chapter II) (Chapter III) (Chapter IV ) (Chapter VI coming soon!)

Paring: Kurapika Kurta x GN! Reader

Word count: 2 888

TW: Mentions of sexual abuse / Mentions of abuse ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) appeared more comfortable around Kurapika. Occasionally letting their ears escape while staying in the privacy of their houses.

But there was still something mysterious about (Y/n). Some of what they didn't say. Kurapika was filled with doubts and fears because of that. He pondered scenarios, each one worse than the other. Are they lying to me? Maybe they're in some kind of danger or distress. Creating a vicious and unhealthy cycle in Kurapika's spirit.

The two were patient in the relationship, neither comprehending fully how to give or receive affection. But despite the time they had been together, (Y/n) seemed resistant to accept fondness. Particularly physical. They had never tried to hold hands. When Kurapika attempted it, they recoiled in alarm more than once. In the few hugs they had given each other, (Y/n) shivered. Loud noises made them shake and jump, and they hand a list of tics as sudden shaking chills or protectively shrugging shoulders. Kurapika could understand that, he had tics as well. But his partner seemed triggered by his touch. They continued to be protective of their eyes. It was normal they didn't meet his eyes often, however, they tried to hide her eyes whenever they looked more cat-like.

Suspicions of his beloved being at risk grew bigger. He didn't want to, he couldn't permit himself to lose someone else. What kind of cruel mockery of life would be that, when finally there was someone like him-Someone who understood and supported him-was erased from this plane. The idea that these funny tail and ears weren't going to survive grieved Kurapika. The plausibility of not seeing those (curly/wavy/messy/straight) (hair/color) strands nevermore haunted him. Undoubtedly, it didn't end there. Fury consumed him when he conceived the idea of someone injuring more further a being so humane, kind hearted, and compassionate as (Y/n). Hadn't both of them grieved enough? But what they were suffering, adding would be disastrous.

Yet, (Y/n) didn't utter a single word regarding the matter.

Kurapika entered a state of fright. At that limit, he needed at the very least to know what was going on. He showed up that night at (Y/n)'s residence, knowing that they had no guard at the hospital and that they would be there. He had a spare key and wasn't abnormal to simply arrive at the other's place. Either of them had the habit of picking phone calls or answering messages.

Except for the scene he arrived at was abnormal.

He saw (Y/n) from behind sitting on the floor, a thing they never did, and if anything was remarkable about them, it was how strict they were with their customs. They had their elbows leaning on the coffee table, looking down at something. They did not react upon his arrival. (Y/n) never missed a noise, even less the one of a door opening. Yet, they remain immobile as if the lives of the universe depended on them staying frozen in place. Kurapika approached them. To see that there was a call in progress on their phone resting upon the table. (Y/n) did not dare to see the phone directly. Their hands held their head by the forehead, their gaze hidden behind their (curls/waves/strands). Just as Kurapika opened his mouth to speak, a female voice came from the phone's speaker-"So you won't answer me?"-silence again-" My baby... I know you think I broke you..."-the voice was sweet and honeyed, full of compassion"-Who could that woman possibly be? Why did she address (Y/n) like that, what did she mean by "break". Kurapika craved to question (Y/N) what, for love for his clan, was happening. He was relucted from doing so, he could perhaps extract information from the person on the other end of the line, taking advantage of the fact that she believed that (Y/n) was alone.-"But that's not true! I didn't do anything, my love. You were born broken, your demoniac eyes are the proo-" (Y/n) abruptly cut the call before the sentence finished. They didn't turn to see Kurapika, despite knowing he was beside them.

Kurapika had his breakpoint. "What's happening (Y/n)?! Who was that?! You can't keep things as such from me?! Do you understand that?!"-he started to scold, raising his voice. His eyes would look scarlet if it weren't for the contacts he was wearing at the moment. Someone else knew about (Y/n) identity. Who can say such atrocities? On top, with such a sound and sweet voice, it was twisted. She was talking about their eyes. Did she want them? Was she behind (Y/n)'s eyes? All these questions flooded incessantly in Kurapika's mind. (Y/n) hid upthrusting their shoulders and covering their face with their hands, their whole figure was shaking. They drew their ears back and adhered the tail to their body, probably changed on instinctual reaction.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"-(Y/n) started to lament, voice quivering. Their breaths were heavy as if it were inhumanly tough to keep breathing. Whoever the other person was, were bad enough to provoke a position of panic on (Y/n). Kurapika knew that and seeing that getting angry only seemed to affect the feeble trembling figure in front of him, he decided to calm down. He was greatly concerned that someone he esteemed as highly as (Y/n) was in that position. It was not wise to let his humor aggravate things.

He lowered himself to their level and sat down next to them. He raised his hand to stroke their hair. As soon as the tips of his fingers touched the (curls/waves/bangs/strands) he heard a heavy "Don't!" and backed up his hand.-"It's alright. I'm not touching you. Still, I require you to explain to me what happens. Who was that woman?" Besides offering physical contact, Kurapika had no distinct idea how he could comfort (Y/n). He felt frustrated and powerless.

"My mum."-they whimpered, (Y/n) was distressed although not crying. Not a single tear came out during all that night. Kurapika no longer understood.

"Weren't your parents deceased?"- He felt that they had lied to him, and it sure bothered him that he kept that from him. But this was not the time to discuss that part.

"No, my family is dead..."-(Y/n) began to breathe more calmly. They readjusted, moving their hands away from their faces to hold their arms. "They did not raise me. My grandparents did. When my grandad got ill and died I left to study. They always lived far away." -(Y/n) didn't look at Kurapika at any time. They kept their gaze at a standstill. Nevertheless, he could notice that their pupils were very dilated, reminding him of the stare of a scared soaked cat.

"What did she mean by break you?"-he continued trying to maintain a moderate voice. He was somehow scared to hear the answer. It would hurt to know that someone hurt (Y/n).

"I wasn't the legal age. Someone had to take my guard when my grandfather died."-Their face stayed still in a sober expression.

"Did they hurt you?"- He felt progressively more scared and worse.

"It's not important. I don't believe it's something you desire to know." -Even with everything happening, (Y/n) refused to speak. How could they be so obstinate?

"(Y/n), this cannot continue. I require to know. You are not delusional, you know you have to tell me."-Kurapika got a heavy sigh.

"They never loved me, you know? I was never certain why. I tried my best. Maybe they were expecting a human... Maybe they blamed me for their separation...Perhaps they were disappointed to learn that I have a disability."- Kurapika didn't know that (Y/n) could have a difficulty, they never mentioned any medical condition. He would ask about that a little further. They were finally discussing if he interrupted now, possibly the opportunity will not present again.-"I spent most of my time in the university's boarding. Only I wasn't allowed to stay on vacation, so I would go home. Sometimes they put a muzzle on me so I wouldn't bite - although I never bit anyone. They put an electric collar on me once. I guess they were scared of me. "It's for your good because we love you, and you have to behave. Good kitties don't scratch and don't bite." my mother told me. They believed it to be true. They did many things to me under that pretext..."-They stopped there. Still having something to say, but not wanting to.

(WARNING: MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE AHEAD)

"Did they... something else to you?"-Kurapika asked again. At that point, he was not surprised (Y/n) never mentioned their parents and did not consider them family. His anger was replaced by compassion. Expecting the worst.

"Yes."- there was the resistance again.

"What did they do?"-(Y/n) made a little movement with their head still hesitant.

"My mother did. She told me she had to check I was okay. Because I was not like other children..."-They lowered their gaze. Kurapika felt a chill. Neither of them was foolish, they knew what was to come. (Y/n) shrugged even more and started to play with their (color) hair -"It happened more than once, I don't remember precisely how many, but more than once for sure. She ordered me to... take off my clothes and... to lay down. It was unpleasant. For a long... for a very long time, I... I denied it. I told myself that she was an adult... that she knew better. If I doubted a bit more... If I weren't so naive... I would have done things differently, you know?"

(END OF THE MENTION OF SEXUAL ABUSE)

Kurapika felt horrible. It felt awful seeing someone he loved so much like this, someone innocent who didn't deserve anything of what happened. For the first time, he didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to act. It was something he did not understand.-"And the rest of your family? You couldn't ask other Uniliums for help?" he probed, wanting to understand their circumstances.

"I tried. I ran away twice. They discovered me at the first try. Two adults facing a 9-year-old child. They clearly gave me the beating of my life.

The following was 4 years after, more prepared. When I returned to our community, I found out that they got butchered not long ago."-(Y/n) lamented. It was probably what ached most of all. That they got that tiny hope and comfort taken away. -"I'm convinced if they had known, they would have helped and appealed to my favor. I concentrated on my studies in the faith to forget. It was also my opening to escape. I like my career, you know? Although my father told me during the 10 years it lasted that it was disappointing and worthless."-they added with a trembling smile. Those were the two details that provided them any comfort.

"Why didn't you tell me any of that?"- Kurapika asked once more.

(Y/n) raised their shoulders.-"I don't know. I was scared and ashamed. I was afraid that you would hate me. Perhaps I imagined you would be disappointed in me."-They were conscious that it was not a rational fear. But it was stronger than them.

"How could I hate you? It wasn't your fault."-He comforted. Full of regret for what happened-"It was not your responsibility at any time."

"I know... Though, still, sometimes I wonder if it was. Even acknowledging that it is a lie." (Y/n) sniffled without shedding any tears.

"They won't do a single thing to you, ever again. I'm present now, and I'll make sure they don't put a finger on you. You are safe. Okay?"-The blonde man secured.

"Thank you."-They smiled again. Many would have said it was the same smile. But for Kurapika it was different. This time it was a touch more melancholic than usual, but there was a side of profuse relief. They relaxed and their ears were forward, symbolizing more relaxed humor.

"It's impressive you succeed the Hunter exam possessing a physical disability." It was Kurapika's crafty way of questioning the subject.

"It was quite difficult. I was born with a respiratory condition, so I cannot develop many physical abilities. I am not physically powerful and I have restricted time to run. I depend greatly on my ability Nen and my wits. However, I won't allow that to stop me. Nobody tells me what I am capable of or not."-(Y/n) bragged. They could be proud. Even with that disadvantage, they had come a long way. That night Kurapika was aware of how strong his companion was. It didn't seem like it, at no time did any of the people who saw (Y/n) imagine all this side of them. After so much, they stayed strong-minded and sweet. They were truly brave. They were both survivors after all. They had both succeeded to get so far despite all the grief. And they both held pride in that. For Kurapika, the fact that (Y/n) had a more sensitive and altruistic side did not make them weak. Of course, they were qualities disapproved among several Hunters.

However, no other hunter held him during his afflicted moments. He could be vulnerable with (Y/n), and he was safe with them.

"Can you remain with me tonight, please?"

Kurapika didn't expect that request.

It was the first time one of them stayed overnight in the other's place. They had stayed really late together, but they didn't stay until the next morning. Plus, knowing how reserved (Y/n) could sometimes be, he assumed they would favor time alone following such an intense experience. Nevertheless, there was something so personal and vulnerable about that request. Kurapika felt the immense desire to stay and protect them.

"Of course."-He couldn't help but use a soft tone.

During all that conversation (Y/n), although exhibited fear, did not manifest weakness at any time. They stayed dignified without losing control.

"Can we lay down, please? I feel a bit tired."-they called after a moment of silence. Their voice resonated dull and tired.

"We can do whatever you desire."- Kurapika smiled at them, his only preoccupation at that instant was to ensure the well-being of the person he treasured, and their head started to bob. (Y/n) slowly nodded and got up. They silently asked him to follow them and padded to their chamber.

It was the first time that Kurapika entered their bedroom as well. It was fairly more adorned. It had a relatively big bed, with light cloths and a fluffy (color) colored bedspread. Without neglecting its childish side, it was full of stuffed animals of all kinds, colors, and sizes. Several shelves were overflowing with books. Shelving with toys and cute figures, alongside a record player and a cloth case with music records was also in the room. Next to the bed was a stool with a lamp and a framed photo. The apartments had their private bathroom, on which (Y/n) entered. Kurapika sat on the bed- or in the space left without stuffed animals- and waited. No longer than 15 minutes should have passed before (Y/n) came out with slightly wet hair, and a matching (color) pajama shorts and shirt. Kurapika didn't identify the exact scent at the time, but they smelled good, familiar. (Y/n) took the stuffed animals and arranged them as best they could on an individual loveseat.

"I apologize for this disorder."-they pointed to the bathroom door.-"There is the other toilet, so you can use it whenever you desire. I have each item, please serve yourself."-They laid on the left side of the bed and rested their head on the puffy pillow.

Kurapika merely laid down next to them, not too close. He was uncertain if it was correct to hug them or stay near. (Y/n) arranged the beddings covering the two. They smelled identical at them.

"Kurapika..."-an reluctant voice called his name.

"Yes?"-It felt strange, being in that place that, until then, seemed confidential. But it wasn't unpleasant at all.

"May I hug you?"-The request was bashful and quiet.

He thought of just opening his arms but preferred to give a vocal response as well.-"Of course you may."

(Y/n) approached him steadily. They proceed to timidly embrace him, after their arms were wrapped around him, they snuggled their face on him.-"You're warm... I feel ... comfortable ... with you. Which is bizarre. I don't feel secure with anyone since I was 6 years old."

Kurapika held them protectively. He felt profoundly touched by that strangely honest statement. He attempted to affectionately stroke their (curls/waves/locks). They allowed it.-"I love you (Y/n)."-He couldn't think about anything else he wanted them to know.

"I adore you, Kurapika."

(Y/n) ultimately permitted themselves to be vulnerable with Kurapika too. It felt good. It was good for them to have someone so strong to have their backs and accompany them.

They could hold each other.

#hxh scenarios #kurapika x reader #kurapika kurta x reader #hxh x reader #hxh #kurapika hxh #kurapika kurta #hunter x hunter #kurapika #kurapika imagine

21 notes · View notes

prrplwtch · 4 years

Note

Do you take headcanon requests? If yes, what would be each of the brother’s reactions when they get caught making out with MC?

Hi nonny! Sure :) Answers are for female!MC. Also some answers are more of a “established relationship” make out session, while others are first time :)

Lucifer

The make out session would likely happen in his study. Like one evening he’ll probably invite MC to come and listen to music with him or something.

Once they are alone together, he’ll likely make the first move.

It’s not that he was planning to make out with MC when he invited her, but it’s also not like he was not planning to make out with her.

If MC seems receptive, one kiss leads to another, and soon enough they are having a full blown make out session.

Lucifer holds MC close to him. He enjoys the feeling of her in his arms and the sensation of her lips on his, that he completely misses the fact that someone is approaching the study. Which is completely unlike him - usually he is quite attentive to this things. But hey, a hot make out session can distract the best of us lol.

It takes him a moment to notice that the door to the study is opened and that someone (most likely Mammon, since he tends to have terrible timing) is in the doorway.

Let’s just say Lucifer is highly annoyed at the interruption.

He does not want to stop kissing MC, but, unfortunately, he has to, in order to deal with his brother who had the misfortune of interruption what was shaping out to be one of Lucifer’s greatest evenings in the past couple hundred years.

He doesn’t even need to say anything - one glance from him and whichever brother it was that intruded upon Lucifer and MC making out, immediately walks out of the study, grateful that Lucifer did not go full demon form on them.

Lucifer locks the door to the study to prevent further interruptions.

“Now, where were we?” he says as he turns to MC, fully intending to continue their prior activities.

Mammon

Mammon would never admit to how long he wanted to kiss the MC. And he most definitely would not admit that the reason they ended up on the balcony overlooking the Devildom was precisely because it was the perfect place to share the first kiss.

It takes quite a bit of courage for him to make the first move, and he finds himself completely surprised when MC beats him to it, and initiates the kiss.

Mammon is overwhelmed with emotion - now that they kissed once, he feels the acute need to kiss her for every time he wanted to kiss her before, but could not.

So naturally, soon enough kisses become a make out session.

Mammon is super elated - he would scream from joy, but he knows that that would probably scare off the MC, which means no more kisses for him, so he keeps quiet.

He is so focused on his feelings and on the joy of getting to hold MC in his arms and getting to kiss her, that he feels like the rest of the world does not exist.

Suddenly, his magical moment gets interrupted by some snickering (it’s likely Levi and Satan, finding it highly entertaining that Mammon finally has a lady friend).

Mammon is very upset, but also blushes profusely. He hates that he and MC were interrupted, but he also hates that someone saw him that way.

“Wh-What ya have nothing better to do?” he tries to yell at the intruder(s), “Or are you jealous?”

The jealousy accusation seems to do the trick, and whoever was interrupting them chooses to leave.

Mammon looks back to MC, unsure of what to do now - he really wants to continue what they were doing, but suddenly he feels scared - what if she does not want to anymore? What if she changed her mind.

His fears are assuaged by MC, who pulls him in for another kiss.

Leviathan

Levi would never even dream of making the first move on MC. Well, he would dream, but it’s not like that was ever going to happen in real life, so he always thought of it akin to dreaming of Ruri-chan.

So when one day when he invited MC to his room to play a computer game with him, he doesn’t expect anything to happen.

Even when MC leans in closer to him, he isn’t sure what will follow - so when she kisses him he finds himself completely stunned.

He does not know what to do and can barely find words.

“You-you did not mean to...“ he starts, but by the look on MC’s face it is clear that she did. Oh.

As she kisses him again, he responds - cautiously at first, as if terrified that this will all turn out to be just a dream, but as they kiss more he realizes that she is not going anywhere, and he relaxes.

His heart is fluttering in his chest, and his mind is running through all the things he would like to post about this most delightful occurrence, when the door flings open (It’s probably Mammon again, as his time is still horrible).

“You, Levi, how about that game you mentioned...“ Mammon stops in the doorway surprised.

Levi feels his cheeks flush bright red. He feels extremely shy about being objects of MC’s affections - and mortified that someone walked in on them.

“Mammon, I swear if you don’t get out now!“ Levi says, and it seems the look of fury on his face is convincing enough that Mammon did not need to be asked twice.

He turns back to MC and leans in trying to kiss her again, but she stops him.

“I still want to play the game you mention,” she smiles, “But to make it more fun, how about this - if I win, I get to kiss you, but if you win, you get to kiss me.”

It takes Levi a moment to comprehend her proposition, but then he smiles - he can definitely live with that.

Satan

That fateful afternoon, Satan invited MC to his room - they liked spending time there together because they could read (and do other things) in peace.

They settled in on one of the couches to read one of Satan’s favorite books.

However, that day Satan found that he could only get precious little reading done - MC’s presence was distracting him more than usual. Perhaps it was her new perfume - or, maybe, it was the bolder shade of lipstick that she wore today, but soon enough Satan knew that the only thing he wanted to do at that moment was to kiss MC.

Luckily, she did not object - she never did.

As the two of them were enjoying some good old-fashioned make out session, Satan thought about just how happy he felt - and how lucky he was to have someone like MC in his life. Someone who helped him realize that there was more to life than anger - and who taught him to feel love.

Suddenly the door to his room flung open - Satan cursed himself for not locking it - and in came Asmodeus.

“Satan, I need your help...” Asmodeus started then stopped, when he noticed MC and Satan kissing on the couch. “Would you look at that,“ Asmo said, “How adorable.”

Satan felt anger rise in his chest - he was furious that Asmo interrupted the two of them and he definitely did not want to be called “adorable”.

Nonetheless, he took a deep breath, trying to remain calm, as he knew that MC was nervous when he acted too angrily. “You should leave,” he told Asmodeus.

“And miss this delightful show?“ Asmo asked with a smirk. However, the smile quickly disappeared from his face as he met Satan’s furious gaze. “All right, I’m leaving now - but I will be back, I still need your help.”

Satan turned to MC and drew her in for another kiss, making a mental note to lock the door soon - otherwise whoever came in next would have to deal with the full strength of his wrath.

Asmodeus

Unlike his brothers, Asmodeus does not need complete privacy to enjoy a good make-out session. In fact, there is a certain thrill to doing it in public or semi-public places.

So MC is not exactly surprised when he pulls her into an embrace and kisses her in the House of Lamentation’s living room.

As the kisses turn to a make out session, Asmodeus finds himself getting a bit handsy with MC. After all, his human blushes so delightfully and makes the best little noises when he touches her.

“What if someone walks in on us?” MC faintly protests, but Asmo kisses her again and she relents. A part of him knows that things would just not be as fun if there was not a slight possibility of getting caught.

As the make out session gets a bit too hot and heavy for a public place, he completely misses the moment when the two of his brothers, Satan and Beel, walk through the doors of the living room.

MC notices them first, her face turning bright red from embarrassment. Asmo notices her reaction, and only then notices his brothers, who are standing there looking at him. Satan’s look is judgmental, but it’s not like Asmo actually cares about being judged and Beel just looks confused.

“Enjoying the show?” he smiles at his brothers, “Wouldn’t you say the two of us look delightful together.”

“Whatever,” Satan shrugs, “Just don’t ruin the couch. Let’s go Beel.”

MC is still mortified and even more so after the couch comment. Asmo wants to get back to their fun little activities, but she stops him.

“Can we go somewhere more...private?” she asks, and Asmo smiles. How could he say no to MC.

“Why of course, my dear,” he says as he takes her hand and pulls her from the couch, “In fact, for the thing I wanted to show you we would need to be in private.”

Asmo enjoys watching the bright blush that blossoms on MC’s cheeks.

Beelzebub

Beel likes to kiss MC. A lot. He doesn’t really mind kissing MC when others are around, but he respects her desire to only do so in privacy.

So one day the two of them are just hanging out in Beel’s room, enjoying each other’s company. And the way that MC smiled and laughed was just so cute, that he could not help himself, he needed to kiss her.

So he pulls her in for a kiss - but one kiss does not satiate the deep hunger that he is feeling, so other kisses soon follow, and before long Beel and MC are making out.

He is really happy that he gets to kiss MC. She smells so good and tastes so sweet, and he is just so happy that she is in his arms.

Lost in the moment, he does not notice as the pile of pillows of Belphegor’s bed starts to move.

“Ugh, do you have to do this when I’m around,” Belphie’s voice startles him. Beel pulls away from the kiss and sees his sibling get up from the bed, and pick up his pillows.

“Sigh, all you had to do was tell me you needed some privacy and I would have left,” Belphie says as he heads for the door.

MC looks a little embarrassed, but Beel does not feel embarrassed at all - after all they were not doing anything that inappropriate, and it’s his room too.

Before the door closes behind Belphie, Beel suddenly hears him whisper in a quiet tone, that humans certainly cannot hear, “Though I’m really happy for you.”

Beel finds himself grinning from the words, then turns to MC and pulls her in for another embrace.

“What is it?” MC asks, as she looks at him surprised by his reaction, but instead of answering her question Beel kisses her again.

Belphegor

Belphie invites MC to his attic room - though it had been the place of his imprisonment, he had gotten used to it, and even liked spending time there.

He wanted to nap with MC, like they often did, but then MC’s face looked too adorable, as she laid there with her eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, that he could not resist, and kissed her.

To his surprise, it seemed MC would much rather kiss than sleep because she eagerly responded to his kisses. And thus the make out session began.

Belphie found himself running his fingers through MC’s hair, happy to have her by his side - he wondered how he managed to live through all those years without her.

However, he was dragged out of his thoughts by creaking of the door. Belphie immediately broke off the kiss to see who the intruder was (as mentioned twice before, it was likely Mammon, since he does have atrocious timing).

“What are you doing here?” Belphie asks, clearly annoyed, and letting his annoyance show.

“Whoa there, lover boy,” Mammon raises his hands, “I’m just passing by to pick something up. Ah, there it is. Well, gotta go.”

As the door closes behind Mammon, Belphie sighs, then turns to MC, who is still laying by his side, her face bright red.

“That was...awkward,” MC says as she looks at him, and Belphie shakes his head.

“For him, maybe,“ he says, as he pulls MC closer to him to kiss her again.

“I thought you wanted to nap,” MC says. Belphie smiles at her, “There will be plenty of time to nap later.”

#obey me #shall we date obey me #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #ask #arianne answers

638 notes · View notes

fanfalc-616 · 3 years

Text

The Rights Of A Nindroid

Chapter Twelve

(Prevoius chapter here)

(Discord Here)

Happy 10th Anniversary!!

Kai is done. He so fucking done with this shit.

He’s getting Zane out, and he’s getting him out right this very minute. It’s already been a month and a half, he’s not going to wait for some long term plan, not when he could be busting Zane out right now!

Kai had spent days and days studying every government file he could possibly get his hands on until he finally figured out where they were keeping Zane.

Some of the things they had written were just plain disgusting.

‘Original has yet to perform as expected, but this is not a large complication as said subject appears to be reaching appropriate behavioral status. Even so, it will require much more regulation before it begins functioning optimally.’

It had taken time to be able to figure out what the hell they had been talking about, but when he translated it he had felt almost sick.

Zane isn’t doing what they want, but they’re starting to make him behave by straight up torturing him. But the worst part is that they don’t even seem to have a problem with that kind of thing.

And even after he had found and translated the files, he had still had to come up with a plan to get inside the near-impenetrable fortress.

There’s a large open field around the base, likely so that they can see anyone who would try to break in or escape.

As a ninja, it’s not even that difficult. He just hides under a truck and hopes he doesn’t fly off as it goes up to the base.

In all honesty, he never thought that the underside of a car would smell so bad. How does Jay enjoy working on these things?

When the truck finally pulls up, Kai carefully unhooks himself and sneakily creeps away, doing his best to not be spotted by the guards.

They scout out the perimeter, but he manages to find lapses in their patterns that let him just barely avoid being seen as he gets inside- though he did have to use Airjitzu at one point.

Caution is the way to go with this. Every step he takes has to be precise. He can’t afford to slip up- not with Zane on the line.

Kai carefully sneaks around, trying to find the cubby that Zane is being kept in. The files he had found gave him a lot more information than he should probably have.

A mission has never been so stressful before. It really shouldn’t be so difficult, but his unease and worry are starting to get to him. Even things as simple as hiding behind a box are leaving him shaking.

If he’s being honest, he probably should’ve told the others about his plan. But they would’ve tried to stop him, probably worrying that he’d get put in jail again.

But this time, he’s not being reckless. This time, he’s putting his best foot forward.

This time, he’s going to save Zane.

It takes him some time to figure out where these cubbies are- because they seriously just put him away like an object on a shelf- and even longer to figure out which one is Zane’s.

Even then, it’s not over. Checking over his shoulder repeatedly, Kai carefully picks the lock, thankful that he had managed to convince Lloyd to teach him.

When he finally opens the locker, he feels relief flood through him.

Then it’s mixed by horror as he sees just how damaged his boyfriend is- they tore his face off. They seriously tore his face off what in the name of the First-

“Kai.” Zane breathes out, a series of conflicting emotions on his face- but they’re all nothing compared to the fear overlaying them.

He looks like he’s near tears, and Kai takes a step forward, ready to finally comfort him, to take his boyfriend home.

Finally.

This nightmare is over.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane punches the faux-Kai in the stomach, somewhat upset the fact that his hands are still cuffed. It will be difficult to fend off the one in place of his love like this, but he will manage.

The false Kai stumbles back, clutching his abdomen. “What was that for?!” He chokes out, trying to move closer again.

Wedging himself further back in the locker, Zane glares heavily. “I will not be fooled by your lies!” He snaps. “This facade of yours won’t trick me!”

Pseudo-Kai glances around, slight panic forming on his face. “They’re gonna hear you!” He hisses quietly. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here!”

He tries to grab Zane, but the white ninja resists to the best of his ability. He is unsure what they have planned in store for him, but he knows for a fact that he will not allow himself to be fooled any longer.

“Release me!” Zane demands, managing to get a kick in hard enough that sends the fake Kai skidding back.

“Zane, we have to get you out of here!” Faux-Kai insists, a look of fear and confusion about him as he attempts to grab the white ninja once again. “We don’t have time for this!”

Zane continues to fend him off, and though he is pulled from the locker, he refuses to give any more ground.

“I would rather be tortured than go anywhere with the likes of you!” He snarls, silently cursing the fact that his hands are bound.

It’s difficult, it’s so difficult to hold his ground when he sees the look of hurt and pain on his love’s face.

But Zane shakes his head, trying to dispel the feeling. No, this isn’t Kai, this is an imitation of him, a false version generated by his deluded sensors.

“Zane, I don’t want to fight you! Please, we need to get you out of here! The guards will be back soon, we can’t-“

That’s it. The guards! If they truly want him to believe that this is Kai, they will take him away when they show up.

But they would not listen if he called for them. They never listen to anything he says or does, so they likely would ignore him. So how could he-

As the pseudo-Kai still seems to be figuring out what to do, Zane darts over to a wall and pulls an alarm.

The guards had come when Cryptor had done such, and they will have to show again for the sake of authenticity.

The false Kai stares at him with a look of borderline horror. “Why would you do that?!” He demands. “We can’t-“

In that moment, the guards appear, quickly surrounding them.

Zane glares at them. “Get him out of here!” He demands. “And you plan to punish me for this defiance, so be it! I have learned from my mistakes, and I will not be fooled again!”

While they start dragging the faux-Kai away, Zane turns and heads back to his locker. Even as the simulated version of his boyfriend yells after him, he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t even look back.

When he steps inside the locker, he closes the door, allowing them to re-lock it.

He will not be fooled again.

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Kai shouts after Zane, but his boyfriend doesn’t reply, he willfully goes back inside his tiny cell, not even bothering to look back at him.

“Zane!” Kai calls out to his boyfriend as he tries to resist the guards, but not only are they skilled, there’s just too many of them! “Zane, what are you doing?!”

He’s roughly put in handcuffs and dragged away as he struggles to comprehend what has just happened.

What had they been doing to Zane? What could they possibly have done to make him not even trust the sight of Kai?

He continues to resist, but no matter what he does, he can’t make any progress.

Even when he’s taken outside and put in the back seat of a police truck, he still doesn’t stop fighting, he doesn’t stop trying to get back to Zane, to get that locker open and save him-

But nothing works. The cuffs are vengestone, and the guards are just too strong.

He’s once again taken to the police station, and Kai curses under his breath when he sees it.

Not only did he fail to save Zane, he’s also going back to jail, where his teammates will have to pick him up- again.

When he’s put back in the cell, he sighs, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened.

They need to save Zane. Every moment they wait, he goes through more and more.

But his plans aren’t working. He only gets in trouble whenever he tries.

… maybe he should try actually listening to the others.

“Zane…” he mutters to himself, “Zane, I promise we’ll get you out of there. Just hold on a little longer.”

“Hold on.”

{ { { { { { { { { { ~ } } } } } } } } } }

Zane is taken to the training room not long after the fake Kai had been taken away and he sighs as he realizes that he will likely be punished for not allowing himself to be tricked.

Martha steps into the room, a rather intrigued look on her face.

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see your place. You really do belong here.” She smiles, sounding somewhat amused.

Zane scoffs. “I would not be fooled by such an imitation!” He snaps, annoyance taking over him. With all the manipulation they had done, do they truly believe that he would continue to fall for their obvious lies?

“Original…” Martha shakes her head, “if he was an imitation, why would we have taken him away?”

Sighing, Zane decides to hold the conversation, even though it seems to be only to bother him. “To make it seem as though he was real when he was not, to delude me into thinking-“

“No. In what situation have we ever ended an illusion because you wanted us to? We would have created an excuse, claimed that he drew them away.” Martha explains, and Zane hates how her words ring true. Everything they had done so far points to the fact they would do that.

“This- you lie!” He argues against her despite that. He would not have fought off the real Kai, he would not allow himself to stay in this wretched place, he-

“Claim what you will, Original. But you know that I’m right. That was your teammate. And now, you’ll never see him again.”

While Zane knows they can manipulate his sensors, every scam he runs proves that she’s not lying, and every thought process points that what she says is true.

“I… you- it…” He finds himself fumbling for words, desperately trying to find a way to prove that she’s wrong.

“Take it back to its locker. It did good today; no training is necessary.”

Horror has fully taken over him when he’s returned to the locker, and he tries to struggle against them, though he knows it’s futile.

That night, he cries himself to sleep.

He really is just a stupid metal box.

#the rights of a nindroid #ninjago zangst #zangst #ninjago fanfiction #psychological torture #torture #trauma

28 notes · View notes