#the things he could do with his skills information and powers is fucking terrifying

[justatalkingface]

So in light of the absolute fuckery that's been Chapter 407, I want to talk about All For One, because I don't think I've ever really talked about him.

I don't mind that he's evil for evil's sake, I don't mind that his ultimate goal is to take OFA so that he can take over the world and make everyone reliant on him or whatever. I don't mind that he nearly took over Japan back in the day. But like everything else Horikoshi touches, AFO had potential that was ultimately squandered away.

I hate how he was literally pure evil IN FUCKING UTERO, I hate how he was barely even utilized (outside of Kamino Ward, which that was fucking awesome) before he tries wrestling control of Shigaraki to be the main villain again. I hate how even though he allegedly has hundreds upon hundreds of Quirks, he spams the same 3-4 ones, and I hate how for supposedly smart and devious he is, we never see him utilizing UA's bad PR or his traitor to his advantage.

It's kind of weird to say this, but I both miss AFO, and feel sorry for him. I know he's been in the story a lot, but... it feels like AFO, the real one, fucking died at Kaminio, and his idiot corpse has just been running around since with Hori's hand up his ass.

Before Kamino, AFO was evil, yes, and and we didn't know about him, but he felt like a real person; an asshole, but he was something you could imagine a super-powered mob boss could end up being.

Since then, though? He's just been becoming more and more... shallow. It's like Hori was hinting at these dark, mysterious depths of ancient man, and then he pulled the curtain and showed us a fucking puddle. And now? All the mystery, all the backstory?

'BeCaUSe i'M EEEEEEEVVVILLLL'. Unironically, it seems to be his only motivation anymore. He does bad things because he's evil; he doesn't actually want to take over the world, that's just something he's doing because taking over the world is evil. Money? Power? Ultimately worthless, nothing more than tools for the purposes... of EVIL!

So... here's the question: why is he evil?

Because he was evil when he was an adult. Why was he evil as an adult? Because he was evil as a kid, apparently, instead of anything more interesting like him slowly being radicalized by Quirk Discrimination. Why was he evil as a kid? Because he was born evil, instead of anything more interesting like a terrible family, or because a police officer hurt him and traumatized him for life. Why was he evil when he was born?

??????

Because he was born of evil genetics, maybe; I wouldn't put it past Hori to make him unironically Quirk Satan or something. The thing is, that's not how human beings work; even an actual sociopath isn't going to be born this gibberingly, one-dimensionally evil. Worse yet, it's fucking boring to have a human being this basic; at this point why aren't they fighting a robot, or monster or something? It'd have the same level of motivation, and it'd feel more interesting than this.

Even ignoring how stupid he's become post-Kamino (which is a related but different point, best summed up by post-Kamino AFO is basiclly running around with his pants on his head, constantly getting one upped by the heroes, the kids, and basiclly random strangers by now), AFO was at his most interesting, not only when he was competent, but when he felt like a person; there's a reason DFO is so popular, and it's not just because it drags Izuku into it, but because it humanizes AFO, gives him real, human motivations to make us interested in his character.

The worst part of it? There's been so many chances to make him more than this caricature of a human being; by making him care for Shigaraki (or for Dr. Plot Device, or even Kurogiri, his loyal minion, before he was Eraserhead's seemingly somewhat retconned 'human interest' (which was barely a thing), or even just for Gigantomachia, who is basiclly a giant, super-violent dog, who he could have cared about like he was just a giant dog), or for him caring for his brother.

I mean, shit. In all honesty, I could make the 'biting baby' thing work, even. Ideally, it'd need some set up beforehand, but you know how Himiko is (the only one we've ever seen) with desires from her Quirk? Do something similar to how Yhwach in Bleach was on AFO, with that kind of logic, with him needing something, at this fundamental level, to be functional, that he's almost addicted to stealing Quirks, that AFO as a Quirk only works as a Quirk because somewhere in his magic DNA he's... unstable. That the very versatility that allows him to hold every Quirk is starving for the stability of a normal Quirk, so that even as a infant, he's instinctively trying feed himself something a normal human would never need.

There's this whole, interesting dynamic this would introduce, a real nature/nurture-y kind of thing, that would put a whole new spin on his character; he's this seemingly pointlessly evil person because his needs, combined with the only real role model he had for someone in his situation, the demon kings he's seen in manga, and a society that rejected him, both as someone with a Quirk by the normal humans, and as someone who could take away their Quirks by the Quirked, turning him into this because that's all he's ever known.

And here's the thing? This idea? Hori could still try to do that. He could try to turns table us with this sudden development, and try to make a real boy out of AFO. But I don't think he's going to; I really don't think he'll do that. Worse, even if he does try that, he'll just double down on AFO being 'born evil' instead of anything with any real depth to it. Do you know why I think that?

Because in all honesty, AFO isn't a real character anymore; he hasn't been for awhile now. All he is is a plot device, the duck tape Hori's been putting on everywhere to try and hold the story together against all the plot holes and logic failures that have been built up from years of bad, biased and rushed writing. More and more, he's become the reason for everything, the cause of every problem Hori can't be bothered to think through, every villain he didn't want to actually have to explain.

The Readers/The Characters: Why did X happen? What caused that? How does Y feel abou- Hori: AFO did it. I ain't gotta explain shit.

And that's the real reason he's so stupid, BTW, the reason he never uses any other Quirk, or applies any creativity in combat (or anywhere else), and why he keeps losing... it's for the plot. Because the thing is? AFO is fucking overpowered.

Let me tell you something I've never seen anyone else acknowledge: All Might never should have won. He overpowered AFO, sure, but we saw from their fight that he barely did that; didn't crush the puny caster AFO once he got past the lasers, his one super Quirk barely out-performed AFO's stacked Quirks in direct combat. Which, yeah, sure I can see that....

But. Why did AFO fight fair, just power against power, blow vs blow? Why didn't he, like, release poison gas as they fought? All Might is strong, but he still has flesh, blood, lungs; he's still very vulnerable to all kinds of softer Quirks. Where was the touch activated Quirk, like that kid from the License Exam, would have turned All Might into a meatball, or taffy, or whatever? Where was the voice activated Quirk that would have stunned All Might for a critical moment?

Hell. Why didn't AFO cheat? Why did he fight All Might, like an honorable person, when he realised the man was possibly a threat to him, instead of just... assassinating him, like a crime lord (or demon king)? Go to his home (or Might Tower, or wherever), drug his food, put something in his water, hell, just launch a surprise attack from point blank range? We know he tried for Eraserhead's Quirk once, before... apparently just giving up and never trying again; why didn't he try again, get it, and use that?

And beyond even all those problem, I don't see a reason for OFA to have survived long enough to get to All Might in the first place!

I mean, seriously: we know that every user fought AFO, viciously, to point where it caused their early deaths (except the one that basiclly started to Snap himself out of existence). We know OFA was only slowly building up in power, and the early versions especially didn't do much at all, and the Quirks all of them had where never top of the line because they were literally just a random person nearby when the Holder before them died.

So. Riddle me this: why, when a bunch of honestly mid-tier people tried, again and again, to kill AFO, who was overwhelmingly stronger than them, who had access to more tools, powers and money than they did; why, when all these factors were stacked against them, did they survive to the point where they could even pass OFA on? How did they survive blows strong enough to destroy buildings, laser blasts, all these powerful Quirks and techniques that AFO uses casually that most heroes would have been instantly killed by, if not flat out destroyed.

I mean... fuck, there's a decent chance AFO knew they had OFA in them, which he wanted (for whatever reason; sentimentality clearly isn't a emotion he's allowed to have, and early OFA wouldn't have been worth the effort for him to go through all of this to try and acquire it), which means instead of just killing them, he would have captured them, taken them back to his base, and then tortured them until they gave him OFA, just so they would finally be allowed to die and not hurt anymore? While I'm at this, why didn't he just kill any pedestrians around after he killed whatever OFA Holder he was fighting; it's not like morals are going to stop him, are they?

Fundamentally, MHA is built off the premise that AFO, terrifying criminal genius with countless Quirks, strong enough that he makes people by him hallucinate out of terror, is so pants shittingly stupid that he spent almost a hundred years basiclly punching himself in the face rather than just winning fights that were ludicrously stacked in his favor again and again and again; I mean, hell, he could still be an utter moron, and as long as he just got lucky once, just once, the giant, unending sequence of coincidences and logic breaking victories that allowed All Might to get his Quirk never would have happened.

None of this, of course, is even mentioning everything happening in the Final Arc, like AFO's obvious weakness to allow him to be finally beat forever appearing out of nowhere, in him having Remnants (even though AFO took eight users to to power it up enough to get to the point that AFO was apparently always at, and us having no reason to think this was a thing before now, much less all the absolute nightmare fuel questions that raises about the Nomu, and all the Quirks that AFO's doctor had stored away), and Eri's Quirk actively accelerating to heal him, thus limiting his life span (or the fact it's even working like that in the first place), even though it's a time Quirk, not a healing Quirk, and it doesn't fucking care about how wounded he is.

So, why did it happen? Why is it still happening?

Because he's a plot device. Because he exists, not as an active character with his own agenda, but as an adjustable target for the heroes to fight against, again and again and again, and if he won, the story would be over. Fundamentally, Hori made AFO too strong, too smart, too well connected, too perfect to every truly lose in this setting, and instead of trying to fix that, in any real way, impose some kind of realistic limitations or drawbacks in his wildly over-powered Quirk, or just kill him off so he wasn't a factor anymore, he just... made the man stupid.

#ask #bnha critical #mha critical #AFO did it. I Ain't Gotta Explain Shit. #AFO should be a LOT scarier than he actually is #so much scarier #the things he could do with his skills information and powers is fucking terrifying

[zoroara]

OCtober challenge Day 5 - Beach

What Narciso hadn't expected during her disposing of her adoptive "father's" corpse that she'd be interrupted by an assassin sent to kill him. Man... He could have saved himself the effort huh? So, he had to drag two bodies down the beach.

He had carefully thought through what he had done, using a large dagger to systematically cut up her intended target that was going to make it easier to carry by putting in into a carrying case which he was going to just chuck the remains off the dock. But now... They had another corpse to deal with, and honestly doing that already took so much fucking time.

So they ended up following the first plan but carrying the assassin's corpse over their shoulder. After tossing the flesh chunks to whatever fish were in there. Narciso looked over the assassin, and furrowed her eyebrows when reading the badge. Bold fuckers this group must be to wear such a thing on their uniforms.

"Varia... He talked about these bastards before..." She muttered to herself trying to pull the information into her head. Incredibly skilled assassins of one of if not the most powerful mafia family, that they kill anyone who fails outright. Meaning they likely wouldn't hold a grudge if she proved her strength against them. Logically, having killed them that would do it right? Though joining them... That would get him in the same place as he was just moments prior... but...

"At least I'd have a choice about how I've gone out." stealing the jacket and putting it over her shoulders she then kicked the body off the dock. Time to go and find her new hunting ground.

Nas honestly, isn't the best when it comes to making reasonable decisions. Being aware of the fact he'll just be going into a loop, his life has been the same loop over and over, that this different loop where he feels like he has more control is far more tantalizing than trying to figure something else out and being completely lost.

Nas does have their flames awakened which helped her subdue a Varia member much easier, as this is before rings and thus flames were common. But as for what flames that'll come pretty soon.

Her main weapon though are two thick daggers as long as her forearms. She is utterly terrifying with them, and will tear most people apart. Fun fact she does have a habit that when she needs to pull them out and first cut her opponent she licks the blade and comments how it tastes and disturbingly correctly says their blood type. It would not taste that different so it's somewhat unknown how she manages this.

#khr oc #OCtober #my art #my oc #nascosta

[ban-joey]

upon 3rd rewatch i still think luthen is a jedi

like maybe not. maybe not. i don’t care. i honestly kind of hope they leave it open-ended: don’t tell me, let me make that choice for myself. but the fucking framing of that shot, the billowing cloak, the geometric hallway behind, the bridge he stands on--all clearly reminiscent of vader, right? but in the way vader commanded the screen in the original trilogy. this is the callback to what was good about those movies, recalling an arthurian tale visually if not thematically. we are so far away from what george lucas could ever possibly dream of (maybe he did dream of this, just executed it poorly. andor builds on morsels of material that has been in star wars since the beginning, but just does it so much better than fucking anybody, and those morsels are suddenly THE ENTIRE SHOW and i am FEASTING). there’s the speech that he makes to lonni, bits about anger and ghosts and sacrificing serenity and community--”I look down and there’s no longer ground beneath my feet”--the way he finishes with, what did I lose? EVERYTHING. he’s terrifying. he’s fascinating. he’s ruthless, and he’s doing what it takes. this is a show not about dark and light, good people and bad, this is a show about institutions and what they do to both individuals and communities. i don’t give a shit about the jedi generally speaking, i think they’re boring as all hell and the biggest dipshits alive. if Luthen is a jedi, then god damn he’s the most interesting motherfucker i’ve ever seen. what a fascinating way to portray a former (?) jedi. if he is. did he leave the order long before the empire? is that why he lacks ideology? is that why Saw sees nothing solid in him? i want to know and i also hope it’s never clear. he could be simply a Separatist and i would still be like fuck yeah dude. 

I just love how in this show there are some of the greatest performances I’ve had the pleasure to watch on TV. i’ve seen people talk about being disappointed about diego luna’s performance and man do i disagree. it’s HARD to play across people like Andy Serkis, and Mr. Serkis has his fucking role for a reason, and Luna does his job fantastically. he has to be ON for a DOZEN EPISODES. people who are like, but he has so few lines what’s the point of him? WATCH HIS FUCKING FACE WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. ACTING!! this is a character we already know isn’t a TALKER all the time. he knows when to keep his mouth shut, watch, and listen, see what his next opening is. this is a show that is so fucking good at using silence, whether it’s lack of dialogue or literal complete silence, no score involved--you use silence because you can rely on your actors and your sets. you don’t need to fill the space any other way, you have what you need. also, his dialogue is always fucking baller. these characters are ALL so well written. “power doesn’t panic” how can you watch this episode, watch diego luna and andy serkis play across from each other, and not just fucking engage in the spectacle? “let’s make it look good” GOD DAMN THEY SURE DID

cassian is still difficult to read, difficult to gauge what’s new to him and what isn’t--in narkina 5, though, his fear is deeply present and cutting. the winning performances we see from other actors are a complement to luna--they play across from him, often as foils in a show where he is the leading man. these characters inform how cassian grows, what he absorbs and what he denies, pivotal moments and otherwise. he’s incredible. i love, love watching him work, and i have to hope that he’s just had a blast working on this show. what a thing, to be in a team of endlessly skilled actors, writers, producers, directors, set and costume designers, fucking everyone. what a world where you sit down in the writers room and lay out the whole show in 5 days flat. that’s it. FIVE DAYS. god. 

#andor #amca #this is just. a rant bc i love this show lmao

[the-masked-ram]

Flawed Hope- Chapter Three

CW: NSFW, Fem OC, Slow Burn, Isekai, Vampirism (do I even need to warn this), Canon Divergent, enemies to lovers, mental health issues, spoilers for BG3 ----

Chapter Three: More Twists and Turns

“How… how do you know my name? Is this still part of the dream?” Brit asked, panic rising in her because she knew, she knew what his answer was going to be.

“It was never part of a dream. Just… some god meddling in my affairs once again. As always, and you,” his fingers twitched by his side and his head tilted thoughtfully, “you will be harder to control than the others, won’t you?”

“If you mean that I know what’s going to happen, then yes,” Brit bristled, trying to control the anxiety and denial roiling within her.

She needed to focus on the information being fed to her. She could freak out later.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his tiefling nose, “This was not what I expected.”

“Baldur’s Gate Three is just a game,” Brit said as her thoughts ran away with her anyway, her ability to ignore those growing emotions was lost.

“It is in your world. But there are plenty of things that the Mundane dimension doesn’t know about. This place is filled with magic, this place is very real, and the world which you had come to love as a game is very much your reality now. We’d lost the battle too many times. In our reality too many lives were lost. A god must have intervened. A very powerful god. Whether it was a singular one or not…,” the Emperor in disguise trailed off.

“But why me?” Brit asked.

“That’s not a question for me,” he said and narrowed his eyes. “Whoever it is that is pulling the strings knows we can’t keep playing the same hand of cards over and over. They are using you, an unseen variable, to change the tide.”

“How can I change anything!? I can’t even shoot a fucking bow! I can’t survive here! I’ll die!” Brit was screaming, she was crying, and all the fears and emotions that had been crushing her were now tumbling out. “I’ll get the others killed…”

She whispered her last words as if terrified to say them out loud. Now that this was real, now that the pain and every sensation she’d been feeling made sense, she felt like she was going to throw up. She was going to rip out her hair. She was going to go insane. None of this made sense. Magic wasn’t a thing. Not in her world.

She didn’t want the fate of a whole world that wasn’t even her own in her hands. She didn’t want people that she had come to care about through a video game to have real lives and be able to die for real. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t put their lives, her life, on the line and ruin it all. She had no idea what she was doing. This was all just too much.

“I just want to go home,” she sank to her knees and curled in upon herself.

She cried, big fat and acidic tears that rolled down her cheeks, that stuffed up her nose. It was ugly, with hiccups that interrupted her every inhale. She hated that she was exposing herself this way to anyone. Yet who would be able to hold themselves together after all that got dumped on them? Certainly not her, not some paralegal just a few years out of school. What skills did she have to survive here? What skills did she have to save an entire population?

After sobbing for a few minutes or it could have been hours for all she knew, she looked up. He was still there. Still watching with a mixture of disgust and pity twisting his red features.

“Enough,” he sighed, and waved his massive hand.

The world around her bent in upon itself, twisting and swirling until it became nothing but darkness. Until she was once again alone, and she found solace in a dreamless sleep. Hoping before the true unconsciousness found her once again, that perhaps she would wake up in her own bed back in her apartment.

---

She woke instead to the quiet crackles of the fire and the sounds of camp beginning to come to life. No one had woken her for her shift on watch last night. She was almost grateful.

Brit looked over the tents crowded in the small space they’d found. This was her reality now. Honestly she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Terrified? Lonely? Lost? Useless? They all seemed right.

Her gaze found itself drawn to the tent that was closer to her than she wanted. The tent that she wished was all the way across the clearing but instead was her direct neighbor. Astarion. She had to make nice with him, as much as possible, without stepping over the obvious line that existed between allies and lovers within the game. She didn’t think she could actually handle something romantic or even a fling right now and definitely not with him, not if it was real.

“Are you alright?”

Brit flinched when a deep voice floated up from behind her but when she turned, she saw it was merely Gale. She smiled awkwardly; the question was how much would she tell everyone?

“Yeah, just surprised no one woke me,” she shrugged.

“Astarion took over, said you need your sleep… Though I suppose the way he said it was far more…,” he rotated his hand as if hesitant to talk badly about the other man.

Brit snorted, “Well he wasn’t wrong. Umm… Gale?”

The wizard hummed questioningly as he turned the slab of meat that would be their breakfast on a stone near the fire.

“Did you have a weird dream last night?” she asked.

He tilted his head, “What constitutes as a weird dream?”

She laughed hard enough to cough.

“I mean obviously just dreaming about the day would be enough to be strange,” he said thoughtfully, seriously, almost arrogantly as if his word was law. “The last twenty-four hours have been- well Mystra save us- enough to cause some nightmares.”

She snorted again trying to regain control of herself, “No, it’s fine. A dream is a dream after all.”

Gale turned to her this time, and he narrowed his eyes, she noticed they seemed to flick around her. Focusing on the space that directly surrounded her torso and head and she wondered what it was he saw. She turned to follow her gaze but was left in the dark.

“They are at that. But sometimes they mean something a little more,” he said cryptically. “Now! What do you say to some breakfast! It’s nothing fancy but you need some food in you after our fights yesterday.”

Food sounded good, but food that was a croissant breakfast sandwich from that ridiculously pricey café down the street from her office. Not whatever that meat was. Was it even a protein source she would recognize? Brit sighed; did she have the right to be picky?

She swore the only good thing about all this shit was that she didn’t need glasses anymore. Though it was strange to touch her face and not feel them, maybe it was stranger still to feel the pointy ears of an elf. She sat down and frowned as he passed her rough-hewn plate with meat, bread, and a bit of berries from the surrounding area.

Berries and bread were a safe bet, her stomach was still swirling with anxiety-induced nausea. She still wasn’t sure what to tell these people. She looked at Gale happily eating as she nibbled at the loaf of bread. Did she tell him that she was from another dimension? If anyone would understand it would be him. Either that or he’d sign her off as crazy and not let her near the frontlines. Though, would that be so bad?

The reminder that she needed to practice throbbed painfully in skull, turning from a thought to an approaching headache. God, was good eyesight really all she got from Ritlyn? Did she even retain her propensity for migraines?

“I’m gonna go to the training area,” Brit said, and she knew it must have seemed abrupt, but she stood up all the same, carefully setting her food aside. “Thanks for breakfast Gale.”

She didn’t hear what he said in reply but when she looked over her shoulder while bending down to grab her bow, she noticed his gaze on her. His eyes were narrowed once again, and he kept looking at that space around her. What the fuck?! Was she attracting flies or faeries or whatever the hell they had in this world?

She stood after packing her things and flapped her hands around her head as if that would break up whatever it was that was haunting her. When she looked back at him was intently focused on the fire and absolutely not looking at her. Brit scoffed and shouldered her backpack higher before walking off.

It was strange leaving the party behind, not having to tell them to wait or split off from the group. Instead, they were actual people with their own agendas and yes it would have been more intelligent for them to have gone with her because she actually wasn’t going to the training space like she had told Gale. Yet… she didn’t want to be the reason they got killed. If she was going to die getting to Karlach, she was going to do that all on her own and take nobody else with her. Not even Astarion. Despite how much he annoyed her, she didn’t necessarily want him to die.

So, when she left the Grove, keeping her head down so that no one called out to her as she passed through the gate, she forced herself not to stop. She forced her eyes to stay forward and gritted her teeth because this was her choice. She had no way back home. This… place, the Sword Coast, was her home now and honestly wasn’t that what she had wished for. She couldn’t complain, she had no right to.

Tears tracked down her cheeks and she hated it. She didn’t let the sobs grip tighter, she didn’t let them grow heavier like they wanted to, instead she sniffled and let the tears flow silent and free. It was oddly relieving to be alone, to be able to cry, to just feel so lost even though she picked her way across trails she recognized more than she should have.

It was different than the map of Baldur’s Gate Three. It was larger, with more side routes to take, but the main paths were the same, the large landmarks familiar and on that trek, it was enough to make her feel slightly more like she could love this new version.

The woods whispered around her and for a moment she stood still, letting the breeze drag through her hair and brush over her skin. The sound of birds chirping and cicadas droning drifted in one ear and out the other. As she settled firmly into her senses and less in her racing thoughts and doomed emotions, Brit stiffened. She heard it, the change in the atmosphere.

Something inside her, that part that screamed ‘survive’, that part that wasn’t her, but she had realized was Ritlyn warned her. Her Ranger instincts reared to life and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled as every sound stopped but the wind. A predator was nearby. Then the careful sound of a step came from behind her.

Brit allowed her hands to move fluidly, following an instinct she knew wasn’t hers but knew would protect her. She drew her short sword and spun. Just waiting beyond the point was a pale elf she recognized all too well.

“Astarion,” she hissed.

“Well,” his smile was a mix of deadly intent and flirtatious innuendos. “Lovely to see you too, pet.”

“What the fuck are you following me for?” Brit snarled, pressing her blade closer.

“Language, really,” he sighed as if it physically hurt him to hear her curse. “I just happened to be walking the same way, dear. Nothing more. Honest.”

He held up his hands innocently, as if that would help him plead his case. Yet that expression on his face was anything but naïve. He was planning something. It didn’t help with the way his eyes pinned her, making her feel raw and exposed. Still, she had no reason to distrust him. Not really.

Brit felt her instincts relax and her arm dropped, “Why?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You see, I’m much more the lone wolf type than you are. The question is, why-y are you out here? All by your lonesome, hm?” Astarion pouted thoughtfully.

She bristled under his loaded question. His words seemed light, careful, even his tone had that carefully practiced brightness he used to diffuse situations and throw people off. But she could see the curiosity, the calculation behind his burgundy gaze.

He gasped and clapped his hands, “You wouldn’t be running away, now?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Brit rolled her eyes. “No… there’s just something I have to do.”

She looked toward the destination she was headed to.

“Alone?” he asked.

“Alone,” she affirmed.

“You’re the one who said we’d be better together didn’t you,” he reminded.

She hated him, “Why do you care?”

“Shouldn’t I care about what one of my allies is doing? Especially when she can’t use a bow, though…,” he looked down at her blade with a salacious grin. “Apparently you are well adept at tracking and using that sword. You have been holding out, haven’t you?”

Everything he said somehow managed to cause her teeth to grind but also caused her skin to prickle with desire. It was like his words were dragging across her skin, lapping her up, bathing her in fire and arousal.

She narrowed her eyes, “You don’t know everything about me Astarion. However, … I know far more about you.”

She took a step toward him and that sword that had been resting at side her itched to rise. Brit was surprised by the desire, it wasn’t her own, yet it wasn’t completely separate. It was fueled by her irritation at the man, yet she would never reach for a weapon just because someone pissed her off.

Astarion, however, seemed entranced by her words. Whether in terror or with excitement she wasn’t sure.

“Do you now?” he breathed.

She stepped back again, putting more space between them, and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Just… don’t get in my way if you are going to follow me,” Brit sighed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he purred. “However, they might.”

Brit looked up and the rest of the party walked out of the undergrowth. Lae’zel looked irritated, Shadowheart pissed, and Gale was weary. Fuck, so much for not involving them.

#astarion x fem oc #astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #fanfiction

[missmentelle]

Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things

If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem. 

The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:

Sandy Hook conspiracies

Gamergate

Pizzagate

The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements

anti-vaxxers

flat-earthers

the birther movement

the Illuminati 

climate change denial

Spygate

Holocaust denial 

COVID-19 denial 

5G panic 

QAnon 

But why do people believe this stuff?

It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch. 

So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:

Our brains are built to identify patterns. 

Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food. 

The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined. 

A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage -  the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there. 

Our brains love proportionality. 

Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event. 

Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause. 

These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger. 

Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon. 

Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”

Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying. 

The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices. 

Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it. 

Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world. 

Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable. 

It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan. 

Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side. 

Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.

Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story. 

Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult). 

The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life. 

Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world. 

Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true. 

Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew. 

These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity. 

A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity. 

And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.

We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.  

There is a strong community aspect to these theories. 

There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas. 

Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed. 

#missmentelle #askmissmentelle #conspiracy theories #cults #psychology #science #neuroscience

[lonely-lost-soul]

Daddy's Little Girl

Request 10: Dad!Schlatt angst with the reader trying to protect Tubbo because the reader is his older sibling?

Requested By: Anonymous

TW: Abuse

Do you want angst? I’ll give you angst. Never challenge me again. /J

ily /p

(Hints of Wilbur and Techno x reader if you squint)

Growing up with Schlatt as your father had its ups and downs, on one hand, he was hilarious and let you get away with anything you wanted, but on the other hand, he had a drinking problem. When you were a little girl his drinking wasn’t too bad, some days were worse than others but most of the time he was semi cognizant. However, when your baby brother Tubbo came along everything changed, for a while he was sober. He was clear-headed, held a stable job on the SMP, and even helped you with your homework, but alas all good things come to an end. As soon as Tubbo started school, and your mom left he started up again, you weren’t happy. Your horns had begun to curl around your head around that time and your baby brother was enamored. He would wrap his chubby hands around them to pull and trace his fingers over the ridges, Tubbo would declare his horns were going to be just as magnificent as yours one day. You would flush at the praise and ruffle his hair, and told him you could already feel his little nubs growing in, he was overjoyed at the news.

Before Tubbo, Schlatt would never lay a hand on anyone, but something inside him crumbled. You had a few close calls, Tubbo bothering your father a little too much and Schlatt raised a hand to the boy. Luckily, you were always there to diffuse the situation and direct your father’s attention away from your baby brother. You were old enough to know just how impulsive and uncaring drinking made him, you tried to keep Tubbo as occupied as you could while keeping up with your work.

When Tubbo was ten years old he made his first friend.

Tubbo told you the kid’s name was Tommy, and he shared all the new information about his friend. He informed you he had two older brothers named Wilbur and Technoblade, who were about a year or two older than you. Tubbo desperately wanted to introduce you to him, but with your dad to keep an eye on you had to decline, at least for the time being. Tubbo pouted at your response and gave you, your biggest weakness puppy dog eyes, you relented. Promising to go with Tubbo to Tommy’s house in a few days to meet the brothers and supervise his play date with Tommy.

You just hoped your dad would be alright.

The day finally rolled around for you to meet the elusive Tommy and his brothers, you informed your dad that you and Tubbo would be gone for the rest of the day, he said it was alright. You think he just wanted to excuse to drink more while both of his children were gone.

“Come on (Y/n), let’s go already!” Tubbo called with a groan, you hushed him softly,

“Put your jacket on first.”

He reluctantly slipped on his jacket and grabbed his bag, you followed him out the door. Tubbo was buzzing with excitement holding his bee plush close to his chest, going on and on about how great Tommy was and how much he hoped you’d like Wilbur and Techno. Eventually, the both of you came upon a small cabin in the middle of a clearing, it was surrounded by lush pine trees and a little boy in a red and white shirt stood by the front gate.

“Tubbo!” The boy you assumed was Tommy shouted rushing over to the gate,

“Tommy!” Tubbo shouted with a laugh, he looked like he wanted to run towards him but first, he looked up at you. You smiled softly and gave your brother a nod, his face lit up and he charged towards Tommy. They met in the middle and Tommy immediately tackled Tubbo to the ground, a young man with glasses opened the window and began to shout at the blonde. He picked his head up and spotted you in the distance, his entire face flushed red, you sent him a little wave. The boy adjusted his glasses slamming the window shut, you titled your head to the side before seeing him and a taller boy with pink hair. While Tommy and Tubbo wrestled in the dirt the older boys walked up to you, they introduced themselves as Wilbur and Technoblade. They both were hybrids like yourself, you immediately felt at home, no wonder Tubbo liked it here so much.

Through the power of conversation you found out Technoblade was a piglin hybrid and Wilbur was half nymph, Tommy was just a plain human. Either their dad got around or some of them were adopted, you’d ask Tubbo later, figuring it was rude to blatantly ask that question. You found out the entire family thrived off of bulling one another it was quite funny to watch Technoblade roast the ever-loving shit out of Wilbur, unknown to you whenever you let a giggle or two slip past your lips Wilbur would flush and Technoblade would smirk. The end of the playdate rolled around and you found yourself not wanting to leave your new friends, Wilbur offered for you and Tubbo to sleep over but you politely declined. Technoblade shot Wilbur a concerned look when with a smile you said your dad would have your ass if you and Tubbo stayed over.

A few years went by since your first meeting, Tubbo and Tommy became inseparable and honestly, you and his brothers were in the same situation. Although you couldn’t see Technoblade and Wilbur as much as Tubbo could see Tommy the three of you were attached at the hip. Wilbur would constantly write you letters, sometimes the handwriting would switch and you noticed Techno put his blunt opinions into the conversation. Tubbo found one of the letters once and insisted that both boys must have a crush on you, you denied that with a soft laugh, just like your father you were under the impression you were unlovable.

Speaking of your dad, he was rarely ever sober at this point, rather being numb than feeling anything significant. Luckily he could be slightly functional, but mostly it was you raising Tubbo and protecting him from your dad’s off days. Speaking of an off day you had just gotten back from a trip of visiting your favorite boys, it was late and Tubbo was asleep in your arms. He was scratched up a bandaid was on his nose, and a bandage wrapped around his arm, he had taken a particularly nasty fall while wrestling with Tommy. Luckily both you and Wilbur were skilled in patching up rambunctious little brothers and he was fixed up in no time flat. You noticed the light on in the living room and grew concerned, your dad was always passed out in his bed by this time of night, was he alright?

Tubbo mumbled something in your arms and you pulled him close to your chest as to not wake the boy. “Dad?” You called softly wandering into the living room, much to your surprise he was very much awake. Your nose scrunched up in displeasure he reeked of whiskey and cigarettes, so tonight was a bad night.

Noted.

“You reek.” You commented adjusting the sleeping Tubbo in your arms, your father shot you a dirty look.

“Where the fuck have you been with the brat?” He hissed baring his teeth at you, “Do you know how late it is? Do you know how worried I was!” You hated the way your stomach churned with guilt and relief, at least he noticed his children were gone. He shouldn’t be praised for the bare minimum, Technoblade would’ve told you gruffly if he knew the full extent of your relationship.

“Out with Tommy, Wilbur, and Technoblade. Phil’s kids remember?” You responded with a soft sigh and he sent a dirty look your way standing up from his recliner. You backed up a few steps, the man towering over you eyeing Tubbo who was beginning to stir in your arms. Hesitantly you placed a hand over the back of his head, keeping it pressed tightly against your neck and shoulder. It only seemed to make Schlatt’s face scrunch up more,

“He looks so much like your mother.”

“I know dad.”

“Why’s he beat to shit?” He slurred reaching his hands out towards Tubbo, “You let him get hurt?”

“Tommy and he were just wrestling. Just being kids. I patched him up, he’s just sleepy.”

“So you let him get beat?”

“Dad no did you not hear me-” He grabbed one of your horns roughly yanking them down. You yelped in pain dropping Tubbo in the process, he hit the ground with a hard thud crying out from the rude awakening. “Dad you’re hurting me-”

“(Y/n)? Dad?” He murmured groggily barely processing the situation unfolding in front of him.

“Tubbo go to your room.” Your dad hissed at him, spit flying everywhere, Tubbo looked terrified. He looked at you and nodded the best you could with your dad’s iron-like grip on your horn, he scurried away and you felt your eyes fill with tears. If only he was a little older, he’d maybe be able to help you, but he was a child and didn’t need to see what was going to happen. “You’ve been running around without a care in the world, you’ve been going free for way too long. You’ve been a bad girl and now your getting punished.” Your blood turned to ice as the gip on your horn tightened,

“Dad, please I’m so sorry. I’ll make sure we get home on time from now on, you’re drunk. Please don’t do this you’ll regret it come the morning.”

“Shut the fuck up (Y/n)!” He spat his tobacco spit flying all over your face, you grimaced trying not to choke in disgust. “You think you know everything about the world but you don’t, you’re a stupid naive child!” He slammed the side of your head against the brick wall of your house. You yelped in pain feeling something crack against the wall, but it wasn’t your skull, it was your right horn.

“Dad- Dad please stop my horn-” You pleaded as he dragged you back by the hair and slammed you into the wall again. Your horn cracked once more and you screamed in pure agony, blood began to stain the wall where your head it, and your horn began to crack. “DAD!” You sobbed out as your horn broke off falling on the ground with a thud. Blood began to drip down the side of your head, your sobbing seemed to snap Schlatt back to his senses as he let out a soft call of your name.

“Fuck. Fuck baby I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked pulling you into his chest, he pressed his hands against the stub of your horn. You whimpered in pain and Schlatt shushed you softly, “I’m so sorry baby girl. My little girl, I didn’t mean it.” His head pressed into the crook of your neck, just where Tubbo’s was moments prior. “I’m such a fuck up. I’d never hurt you...I can’t do this…”

“It’s okay…” Your voice cracked eyes wide and glassy, it wasn’t okay but you weren’t about to tell him that. “Can I go to bed now…”

“Lemme patch you up first. You might bleed out...scare Tubs.” Schlatt grumbled and you nodded numbly. He helped you to your feet and you swayed, your dad haphazardly bandaged the side of your head and cauterized your horn. That might’ve hurt even more than losing the horn on its own, you held back your whimpers as your dad apologized even more for the pain he caused. “Get some rest alright…I love you.”

“Love you to dad,” You gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, you waited until he slipped into his room before you made your way into Tubbo’s. The boy was downright sobbing under his blankets, you pulled back the covers to find him desperately clinging to his bee plush.

“(Y/n)?” He whimpered looking up at you with wide eyes,

“Hey, Tubs…” Your smile was tense and he frowned, “Mr. Bumbles protect you okay? Just like we talked about?” Tubbo nodded lip trembling, he reached his hand up to touch your bandages. You flinched at his touch,

“Where’s your horn.”

“Unimportant. Just got into a little scuffle with dad, nothing your big sister can’t handle. Tubbo why don’t we go see Mr. Phil.”

“But it’s so late?”

“It’s okay. Go pack up a bag, you’ll be there for a while.”

“What about you?”

You sent him another tight-lipped smile, “I can’t stay there with you, unfortunately.”

“Then I don’t want to go!” He huffed defensively, your smile was wiped off your face.

“Not a suggestion-”

“NO! I’m not leaving you!” You grunted feeling him slam into your middle wrapping you in a tight hug. “Not with him...I need you. Who’s gonna protect me? Or read me bedtime stories? Or kiss me goodnight!” He began to cry through his protests and you knelt in front of him, you placed your hand on his cheek.

“Technoblade and Phil can protect you just fine. Wilbur would love to read you and Tommy’s bedtime stories. You’re too old for goodnight kisses-”

“Am not!”

“I can’t protect you anymore, not from dad.” Your voice shook a little before swallowing thickly, Tubbo’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. He’s never seen you look so scared, you were serious. “You deserve to grow up normally and happily, with a good dad and family.”

“You're good family.” Tubbo insisted grabbing your bigger hand with his own, you let out a wet laugh and held your other hand to your mouth. Swallowing again before responding to Tubbo’s heartfelt compliment,

“I’ll always be your family and I’ll always be your big sister. But for now, you’ll temporarily be part of Tommy’s family. Just until I’m old enough to take you away from all of this.”

“Promise?” He held out his pinky,

“Promise.” You responded interlocking your pinky with his own, he seemed much more satisfied and willing to listen to you now. “Now go pack up alright? We gotta go before the morning,” Tubbo nodded at you and began to gather his things in his bag. Eventually, he was all packed up and you both snuck out towards Tommy’s home, the side of your head was throbbing and you felt completely off balance stumbling over your feet a few times. Tubbo grew concerned but never actually voiced said concern, the two of you came up on Phil’s doorstep. You loudly began to knock at the door and Technoblade answered sword drawn, glasses were haphazardly thrown on his nose,

“(Y/n)? Tubbo?” He blinked blearily, “it’s like three am what-” Adjusting the glasses he finally got a good look at the both of you, Tubbo was still in his footie pajamas and you had officially bled through your bandages. “Who did it.”

“Technoblade please-”

“Who. Hurt. You.”

“I’m so tired, please just go get your dad.” You pleaded locking your eyes with his own, they softened considerably before muttering under his breath.

“Fine. But I’m getting Wilbur to look at your horn.” He demanded marching away from the door, you gently urged Tubbo inside and you both sat down on their couch. Tubbo yawned sleepily and leaned against your side,

“You can go to sleep. You’re safe now Bumblebee.”

“But you’ll be gone when I wake up…” He held Mr. Bumble closer to his chest and you brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I want you to have Mr. Bumble!” Tubbo held the toy out to you, your lips dipped into a little frown.

“Tubs he’s your favorite-

“He protected me from dad. So I’m sure he’ll protect you too.” You wanted to sob as you took the bee from his hands, you were going to say something else when Phil and Wilbur walked into the room. Phil gave you a pitying smile, before calling Tubbo over to him.

“Hey mate. Let’s get you settled into the guest room for now yeah?” The older man smiled at your brother and he nodded sleepily walking over to Phil. He gave you a look that said we’ll talk later as Wilbur walked over to you, the frown on his face was rock solid.

“You gonna explain yourself?” He scolded you like a parental figure would, you bit your lip and shook your head. Wilbur sighed the bags under his eyes were dark and you murmured a soft apology. He reached out and took your cheek in his palm, he leaned close and you felt his breath on his lips. You felt your cheeks turn pink and he leaned in...to take a better look at your horn.

God, you were so stupid why did you think he was going to kiss you just now?

“Jesus Christ…” He murmured as he unwrapped your wound gently. “They fucked you up honey,” Wilbur said softly, his voice dripping with pure concern, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m alright...It’ll get better.” You smiled a tight-lipped smile that only caused Wilbur’s eyes to flash with pure rage, “Seriously Will. Please just let it go.”

“I’ll never understand you.” He muttered grumpily, much like his brother did when he greeted you at the door. “How can you not want justice for what they did to you? I don’t understand-” Wilbur blinked a few moments pulling away from you, you refused to meet his eyes. “-Did your dad do this to you?” He saw the fear spark in your eyes, “that fucking piece of shit! TECHNO!”

“Wilbur please no- no please he didn’t mean too he was drunk!” You slapped your hands over your mouth and he looked at you with horror. “Wilbur please don’t do anything he didn’t mean to do it, I have to look out for him!” Your breathing got short and rapid, immediately Wilbur felt bad for being so aggressive, “He’ll die without me.”

“It’s not your job to look after your father.” Wilbur looked at you with pity,

“Yes, it is. He’s my family.”

“Family doesn’t do this to you.” He motioned to your missing horn, the motion now made you feel wildly self-conscious, “they don’t hurt you.” You bit the bottom of your lip so hard it began to bleed,

“Just don’t tell Technoblade. He’ll kill him. You know he will, I don’t want that.” Wilbur didn’t look happy about the situation but he agreed reluctantly, but only if you stayed the night alongside Tubbo. You told him you would,

But you’re a liar.

Phil came back into the room a little later and asked to talk to you privately. He asked you what was going on and you explained the entire situation to him, practically pleading for him to take your baby brother in while you got Schlatt under control. Phil of course agreed, but he was not happy about you going back to your dad, especially since you were already injured. You assured him all would be okay, your dad meant well and with Tubbo out of the house, you can put all your energy into fixing him.

Phil let you go that night, and he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

No one in the Minecraft household heard from you again after that night. You seemed to slip out of everyone's memory, Wilbur met Sally and she and his son consumed his life. Technoblade moved out of the house to spread his wings, and the only person who even seemed to care that you were missing was Tubbo. Yet, even so, you began to slip out of his memory too, barely remembering your face. It broke him to pieces that he couldn’t remember his sister, and when he asked Wilbur about you the man's memory was just as fuzzy. The only thing he had was the letters the both of you sent back and forth to one another, he’d gifted them to Tubbo after he discovered them again under his childhood bed. Tubbo thought that maybe, just maybe, word of their new nation would cause you to come out of hiding.

It didn’t.

Eventually, he had to leave his memory of you behind and focus on helping Tommy and Wilbur. He hoped wherever you were you were proud of him, you wouldn’t want him to be miserable and dwell on you, you’d want him to live.

When he saw his father upon the podium the day of the election all he wanted to do was confront him about you, but there were other things to worry about like the fact that Wilbur and Tommy had just gotten exiled. Schlatt died before he got to ask about you, then right after that Wilbur died by Phil’s hand and everything was blown to shit, he had Tommy and that was all he needed.

Wilbur woke up to the soft chirping of birds and an angel sitting on a hillside. He couldn’t feel the grass under his palms or his heartbeat, but he felt something warm flood through him when he saw the angel. She turned towards him, his memory of her was fuzzy but her name wasn’t, “(Y/n)?”

“Hi Wilby, long time no see.” You smiled softly, both horns were missing but your soft ears twitched eagerly.

“Where...are we?” Wilbur whispered walking over to you to sit by your side, “What happened to you?”

“I lost another horn being stupid. Died from an infection while dad was away on a trip.” You pulled your legs close towards your chest, “you’re dead Will. We’re dead. It’s been quiet here for so long.”

“Dead…” He breathed out the negative memories flooding into his brain; he squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Are we ghosts?” You shrugged your shoulders,

“I don’t know, never tried to...go back,” Wilbur watched as you ran your hand through the grass even though Wilbur knew you couldn’t feel it. “Tubbo would be disappointed in me. So upset I died, I’d rather he not know. Makes it easier on everyone I think.” You turned to him, hair falling in your eyes, they were empty and your skin was so pale, he couldn’t imagine what he looked like in comparison. “Are you going to go back?” You spoke again after a few moments of silence, there was a tense atmosphere that filled the room, you didn’t want to be lonely.

“If you’re here, that’s where I’m going to stay. At least for a little while.” Wilbur looked at you, your eyes wide with shock, a brilliant smile spread across your cheeks.

“Promise?”

“With all my heart honey.”

#dadschlatt x reader #platonic schlatt x reader #platonic tubbo x reader #brother tubbo x sister reader #wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #technoblade x reader #dreamsmp x reader #platonic dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x you #abuse #fanfiction #fanfic #trigger warning: abuse #angst

[stupid-sloot-headcanons]

“You will learn to love me.” - With Heisenberg and restorator darling, please? Perhaps when this is her first experience?

Heisenberg/F!Darling: "You'll learn to love me."

TW: Dubcon, loss of virginity, forced marriage

Weddings were usually a joyous affair. Gorgeous dresses, dancing and enjoying your loved ones' company, celebrating the life you wanted to share with your one-and-only... ____'s wedding was not at all like what she or her family might have hoped it would be. For one thing, none of them even knew where she was; she'd spent the last few months trapped by the terrifying man who'd kidnapped her from the Romanian wilderness, a man named Heisenberg who had a gift with metal that bordered on supernatural. As a restorator she would've been fascinated if she wasn't terrified of what he could do with that power of his, especially when his "work" littered his factory with corpses and their scattered body parts. The only other company she had were the wolflike monsters and patchwork creations that followed Heisenberg's orders.

He'd actually bothered to get a wedding dress for her, an admittedly beautiful traditional gown made by the women in the village. The delicate lace along the sleeves and the vibrant embroidered flowers and patterns on the vest looked so out of place in the dusty and rusted-out factory. The villagers were eager to celebrate their Lord's marriage and hadn't stopped sending flowers, pastries, clothing, and handmade talismans for long-life/love/fertility to the outskirts of Heisenberg's property until he'd stationed some of the Lycans to scare off the throngs of annoying worshippers and well-wishers. ____ didn't know if it was better or worse that Heisenberg and her would be the only ones at the wedding; she was terrified of being alone with him, but the way the villagers stared at her and threw themselves to the ground while reverently calling her "Lady Heiseberg" left her uncomfortable to say the least.

____ stared at her reflection in the mirror and tried her best to prepare herself for what was to come. I can still try to escape, but...being his wife just makes it feel more hopeless. She bit the inside of her cheek and glared at the reflection of her dress through her veil. I'll have to be tied to him, even if I'm being forced to say those fucking vows to always stay with him until "death to us part."

She didn't hate him, at least not as much as she did when he'd first taken her. She definitely feared him, but that was just common sense when your captor has an army of corpse-machines, werewolves, and can control electricity and metal with his mind. He'd been more accommodating than he'd expected for a kidnapper. He had been sexually forceful sometimes whenever he groped her or turned her head to kiss her, or lightly rutted against her body when the two of them slept in the same bed. But he'd also given her a room to herself, and insisted on not forcing himself on her completely until he'd made her his wife--another reason she was dreading this day. He'd appreciated her restoration skills and the two of them had actually shared some enjoyable conversations while spending time in his workshop. And he was fiercely protective of her when it came to his equally monstrous siblings and mother. Part of it seemed to be selfishness, not wanting them to go after HIS woman, but he'd consoled her after that wretched little doll of Lady Beneviento's had insisted on "playing" with her by chasing her and tearing at the flesh and skin of her legs. His voice had been soft when he'd promised to not let anyone hurt her, and having him hold her was comforting.

The sound of her bedroom door opening snapped ____ out of her thoughts, and she saw Heisenberg walk into the room. He wasn't wearing his usual trenchcoat, and instead had on an outfit that ____ had never seen him in before: a black vest with similar embroidery to her own outfit, along with a white blouse underneath with fur-trimmed black sleeves. His pants were also black, save for the bit of dust around the hem from walking around the factory. His shoes were made from dark leather and had the same fur trim as his shirtsleeves and the inside of ____'s vest. His signature sunglasses were absent, and his hair was freshly washed and combed.

Heisenberg stared at ____ for a moment, looking her up and down as she stood in her wedding clothes. He had seen what they'd looked like folded up and hanging in her closet, but it was nothing compared to her wearing them. He wasn't used to seeing something so delicate and beautiful, especially in his factory. "Everything's ready," he said. He put one arm around ____'s waist and kept a gentle yet firm grip around her. "Since Miranda gave us her 'blessing' beforehand, we don't need to have her here to watch and attend in all her glory," he quipped. "God knows that bitch would ruin this whole thing just by being here."

____ let Heisenberg lead her to his own room, where a small leather box lay on his bedside table. He used his powers to shut and lock the door behind ____ while he went to grab the box. "I don't have much from my real family," Heisenberg said, carefully opening the lid. The inside was lined with cloth, and inside was a pair of exquisite wedding bands. There were some signs of age in the metal, but the small opalescent jewel nestled in the center of the bridal ring shone as if it had been polished just yesterday. The other ring was less flashy, with the only flair being am etched ridge in the shape of a mountain on the top, inlaid with gold. "This ring's one of the only things I've got from them." He took the groom's ring and slipped it on his own finger. "I want to say it was one of my great uncles who made it? One of them was a jeweler, I think." He shrugged and held his hand out to admire how it looked. "My mom slipped them into my things after Miranda's people had come to take me and my cousins away. I think she knew it'd be the last time she saw all of us together."

____ noticed the strange tone in Heisenberg's voice as he recalled his last memory with his family. She'd never heard him reminisce about them before; with how far-off and melancholy he sounded, she knew why it wasn't something he discussed that often. Just as she was about to try to say something to try and comfort him, he took the bride's ring with one hand and slipped the box into his pocket. He took ____'s hand and squeezed it. "There's no set of vows we have to take," he explained with a half-smile. "One of the perks of being royalty in this shit hole is anything you do is fine, no matter how informally you do it. Not like the villagers are gonna complain about us not following all the traditions, so it saves a lot of time. But..." Heisenberg stared intensely at her as he slipped the ring onto her trembling finger. "One day, you'll learn to love me. I promise that."

____'s hand felt as if it were chained to a sinking weight, pulling her through the ground and crushing her. There was no way out. She'd be "married" to this man who'd ruined her life, isolated from the rest of the world and completely at his mercy. Her heart leaped into her throat and she suddenly felt a rush of dizziness; she stumbled forward and Heisenberg caught her, helping her back upright and holding her in his arms. He brushed her clothed hip with his thumb and then lifted her veil to fully reveal her face. Before ____ knew it, Heisenberg's lips were against hers as he tilted her head back slightly to deepen the kiss.

Heisenberg ran his fingers through her hair as he lowered her onto his bed. ____'s heart raced and panic ran up and down her spine as she lay on the bed. He was taking off his shoes, unbuttoning his vest...reaching down to take off her veil. "K-Karl," she stammered, "I'm not...I've--"

"Never done this before?" He rested one hand on her vest before unbuttoning the golden clasps and sliding it off of her shoulders while she just tried her best to stay still. "I figured as much." Heisenberg smirked and moved one hand underneath the skirt of her dress, creeping up her thighs and stopping just inches from her panties. "You always get that funny little look on your face whenever I touch you for a bit in bed, almost like you're feeling a certain way for the first time. Wouldn't surprise me if you've never even touched yourself."

Goosebumps rose on ____'s legs as Heisenberg ghosted his fingers over her pubic mound, and she looked away as she rubbed her thighs together. Was she really THAT obvious about it? "I know I can't stop you," she said quietly. She bit her lip and tears welled up in her eyes as she tried her hardest to not envision what ____ was about to do to her. Maybe he'd start to tire of her once he finally fucked her and got what he really wanted, and he'd let her go. Would she get blood on the sheets and her dress when he entered her? Would he even care? She could already feel his cock prodding her through his pants; it was a strange, foreign presence that filled her with dread. She knew that some men had penises so large that they could fill someone up all the way to their cervix...just how painful was this going to be once he took all of his clothes off? How harsh would he be now that he didn't feel the need to be so accommodating and kind once he finally claimed her?

____ sniffled and looked up at Heisenberg pitifully. "Please be gentle," she begged. "I don't want...I know it can hurt a lot during your first time, so just..."

Heisenberg cocked his head slightly and rested his fingers on the flesh of her right thigh. "It can hurt if you don't do it right," he replied, sounding a little confused. "What, you think I'm just gonna whip my cock out, go in dry, and finish after a few pumps?"

____ looked up at him, not sure of what to say. "You want to f-fuck me, don't you?" She sounded more confused than accusatory. "That's why you kidnapped me. That's why you've tried to be nice to me and make me trust you." Her shoulders drooped slightly and she clenched her jaw. "I just figured that you wouldn't care that much about...about making me feel good, at least not as much as yourself."

Heisenberg's brows furrowed, but only for a moment before leaning down to kiss her again. ____'s eyes widened at just how gentle this kiss was compared to the one he'd given her after slipping his ring on her finger. "I didn't kidnap you just to be a cocksleeve," he replied with a slightly disappointed frown. He caressed the inside of her thigh and trailed his lips down to her collarbone. "If I wanted that, I would've just raped you the first night you were here." ____ moaned softly as he moved one hand underneath her blouse to massage her breast, and a sudden rush of heat pooled between her legs as he used his other hand to play with an extra-sensitive bundle of nerves through her underwear.

"Kidnapping you doesn't really help my case," he said begrudgingly, "But I do love you, you know. As much as I can love anyone after the shit I've been through." He toyed with her nipple and smiled when he felt her hips rock a bit as he circled around her clit through her panties. "You're not my whore, you're my wife. So tell me what you want, and how you want it. And I'll give it to you."

____'s entire body felt so warm underneath her wedding dress. The places he was touching her felt so tingly, just like how they did whenever he groped her before tonight. Somehow though, this was different. Her fear wasn't as prevalent and the heat bubbling up underneath her skin wasn't from shame. This felt gentler. This felt good. So, so good. He wasn't lying to her about doing whatever SHE wanted; for once, she felt like she had a semblance of control while in bed with him--previously her kidnapper, but now her husband.

____'s voice was breathier than she expected whenever she spoke again. "C-could...could you put your mouth on me?" She rested one shaky hand by her chest on top of his own. "On my breasts, where your hand is right now. I want to f-feel more of...of this." She was struggling to articulate just what she was feeling and what she wanted, but Heisenberg just grinned as if he'd heard her loud and clear. When he lifted her thin white blouse over her head, leaving her in just her skirt, panties, and stockings, he immediately latched onto her right breast while he continued to play with her left nipple. ____ gasped and bucked her hips as he swirled his tongue around the pebble of flesh; his stubble grazed her soft skin, and the texture made her shiver.

Heisenberg finally moved his lips back with a small pop and switched to her other breast while he circled even faster around her clitoris and occasionally stroked the damp spot around her cunt's lips. "Can you feel how wet you are down here?" He chuckled and hooked one finger around the waistband of her panties before pulling them off of her completely. "I definitely won't hurt you if you're dripping like this from just my fingers." He slowly inserted his middle finger inside of her tight walls and eagerly looked at her face as she moaned and moved her hips to take even more of his hand. "Does it hurt, honey?"

"Ah, n-no..." ____ had never felt so hot and lightheaded and FULL. There was a stretch, but it wasn't painful; if anything, she wanted to feel more and more of it. "It feels good, so good..." Heisenberg curled his finger inside of her and laughed again at how his wife cried out in pleasure, practically shoving her pelvis forward to fuck herself on his hand while her pussy clenched around him. "More, more, please! That felt even better, do it again--o-or, or put another finger inside, or your whole hand or your cock or--"

Heisenberg shushed her and slightly increased his pace as he slipped another finger inside of her. "Easy, tiger," he teased with a smile. "I'm not using my cock until you cum at LEAST once on my hand. I haven't even gotten to taste you yet!"

"But...don't you want to feel good t-too?"

Heisenberg felt his hard-on stabbing through his clothes as he rutted his hips against the mattress. He'd get some relief soon, but for now he wanted to show her just what she really meant to him. He could fill her up with his cum and fuck her silly later--right now, he wanted to make sure his perfect little wife enjoyed every single second of her wedding night the way she deserved.

This WAS a celebration of their love, after all.

#.re8 #.heisenberg #yandere re8 #yandere heisenberg #virginity kink #tw: dubcon #.myshit #.queue #fem darling

[serenawitchwriter]

BNHA Fusion (LOV/Deku)

shigideku

oh boy

both have been deeply wronged by society

unstable but also instantly aware that they’re more compatible than either is comfortable with

insane, muttering, constantly arguing with them-self

black curls that’s longer the deku’s hair normally is. scarred so badly. but decent skin. eye bags, big green eyes. Mikumo vibes

twitchy hands, will scratch anywhere, plays with lip, constantly writing. hands are never still

wears one fingered gloved so he doesn’t decay everything constantly

a genius, master of planning and deconstruction. take the moral limiters of izuku and he could end any hero quirkless

has a level of morality but it’s hard to define. totally down for crime most of the time, loves fighting, but doesn’t target kids or civilians. has a lot clearer motives than shigaraki did alone

they are gonna take down the government probably

daddy issues x2

laughs like a crazy person, wide scary smile

traumatized, ptsd, anxiety, dissociates, ocd. babe has a lot of mental illnesses

plays video games to calm down

loves homemade food

a loner

paranoid

quirk is just... oof. like a nuke going off basically. so fucking destructive, and you know they know how to use it

hates everyone including them-self

self aware of their situation. recognized that they’re being used and targeted and manipulated. on both ends. Shigi sees how he’s being used by afo, Izu sees how the adults in his life have failed him

honestly kinda baby, they need fucking love

hero students and lov members would put aside differences to help them honestly. the world wouldn’t be okay with it, but their friends are loyal

not quite a villain anymore, but definitely not a hero. constantly has internal conflict over this. like they don’t want to give up on hero dreams times 2 but also recognize how utterly fucked society is and wants to tear it down. they’re so full of hate, but want to maintain hope just out of spite at this point

whatever the hell they’re doing they’re not giving up on it

has the power to reshape society and is going to fucking use it

i don’t need to tell you that they’re fucking terrifying

togodeku

obsessive x2

love heroes x2

long curly green hair worn in twin pony tails, 

short, decent sized chest, big red eyes, and a smile that’s too big. fangs. freckles. 

muscular but in a compact way

more stable than they should be

loves themselves.

in love with uraraka, but gets crushes on everyone else extremely easily. ura is their forever girl though

loves making and consuming fan content. a fangirl to a scary degree

an all might stan

naturally, also loves k-pop

no fashion sense, they wish they had it, but they don’t. probably just wearing t-shirts and jeans most of the time. is still kinda hot, but isn’t doing anything to play it up

will hunt you for sport

incredibly fast, loves running and chasing in general

bunny themed outfit still

changing into others is one of their passions. izu lowkey loves this quirk. they’re experts at mimicking others. izuku’s analysis skills makes them too good at this

feral x2

honestly just here for the lols

still wants to be a hero, but isn’t doing a good job of it

easily distracted

probably knits for some reason?

makes gifts for friends and crushes

way more dangerous than they’re letting on. too many people are underestimating them

cute as a button

dabideku

daddy issue x2

bitter as hell

black and white hair, curly. darker at the roots. 

keeps dabi’s scars. green eyes. tall and muscular, lots of piercings. most of Izuku’s details are lost in the scaring

coffee addict

self centered, has a lot of enemies. including endeavor and bakugou, and every middle school bully.

more empathetic though, can have friends and value them, just don’t piss him off because he will hold lifelong grudges

very good at switching back and forth between scary and threatening to cute and innocent. usually the innocence is mocking but it can read as genuine

a good actor in general, but a terrible liar

quirk is not doing him any favors, still has the feedback, but flaming tentacles gives him more control over the fire itself

reads a lot of comic books

a hypocrite

likes to dramatically point at things while shouting

loves solving mysteries and kinda wants to go down a sherlock holmes or batman route

is not pulling that off, maybe jason todd vibes at best

high key just a dramatic dork that’s too good at murder

chaotic neutral to chaotic good

talks too much

good at pissing people off

kinda deserves to get the shit beaten out of him, and i feel like bakugou can pull it off

twicedeku

neurotic

they love their friends so much though

oblivious as hell

like a genius in observation and knowing stuff, but a dumbass at applying that knowledge

would make a good information broker if they could learn to shut the hell up

are they basically deadpool? kinda.

short green hair, cut close to their head

long face, covered in scars, tallish, looks like an adult

pouts and cries easily

smartass

talks to himself x2 god help us

overpowered with his quirk. god help us

laughs at his own jokes

always hungry

winks at the fourth wall

has many stims and hobbies, hands are litterally never not doing something. he’s the kind of person you’ll glance away from, turn back, and find juggling.

we’re talking cat’s craddle, rubix cubes, instruments, puzzles, tearing up candy wrappers, painting his nails, braiding friendship bracelets. he is never still

directionless. lacks motivation

internalizes criticism really easily, to the point that he gets depressed and struggles to act

indecisive to a clinical degree

probably has and anxiety disorder but refuses to acknowledge it

is pretty fucking baby. protect him

spindeku

lol what a nerd

fanboy x2

cries easily. izuku’s habit of crying does not decrease

ultimate ride or die

still a lizard, mohawk is green instead of pink

mixed feelings on stain

searching for the ultimate person to stan. all might stays in their heart, but they want to be edgier

absolutely uses a sword. not the dumb one that spinner uses but it is still a buster sword that’s too large for them. they’re strong enough to swing it around like nothing, i’m picturing cloud from final fantasy’s sword. again they’re really nerdy

disillusioned with society and heroes. both are marked by discrimination and have recognized the failure of heroes and government. aren’t as bitter but determined to do something

sassy but not quite sarcastic

gives really good advice. the friend you go to to have an emotional breakdown

considering pursuing psychology more for this reason. realizes he can use the skill to help a lot of people

isn’t willing to give up fighting or using his sword though. he has an aesthetic

would get along fantastically with tokoyami

also the friend that feeds you. can’t cook very well but always has something on him to give you when he notices you haven’t eaten in a long time.

loves bubble tea

social anxiety, if it weren’t for the fact that he already had friends and a mission, he probably wouldn’t leave the house

surprisingly close to shigaraki, enough of a gamer to play with him, and even gets away with calling him out

(i’m debating how comfortable i am with fusing kids with adults. it seems weird to me, especially the bigger the age difference)

(masterlist)

#fusion au #bnha #mha #midoriya izuku #shigideku #togadeku #dabideku #twicedeku #kurideku #spindeku #shigaraki #dabi #twice #toga #serenawitchwriter

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

“Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

#ns*fw #choices: stories you play #open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 7

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!!

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3    Chapter 4  Chapter 5   Chapter 6

Chapter 7

“I love this...” I whispered, arms wrapped around his neck, staring up into Jungkooks face as he rocked his hips against mine , hands stroking my hips gently as the hard length of him dragged inside me , almost gentle as he placed soft kisses on my brow. 

“What? “ he smiled. 

“You inside me... it feels.. i feel complete somehow..” 

He smiled sweetly, kissing the corner of my lips. 

“You’re so warm and wet and I think you’re perfect.” He breathed against my cheeks, pillow soft lips pressing smooches down my jaw and up to my lobe. 

“I liked ...tonight. “I said shyly and he grimaced.

“I may have gone a little overboard..” He said sheepishly, grunting as he thrust a little harder and I closed my eyes , savoring the feeling of him inside me. 

“But I liked it. Liked that I couldn’t even watch the fireworks because of ...well another kind of fireworks..” I laughed.

He grinned.

“ I aim to please.” 

“Good. Then why dont you hurry up and fuck me like you mean it.” I said with a wink and his eyes narrowed, flashing red.

“You never learn, do you angel?” 

I laughed as he pulled out and flipped me over, fingers sinking into hair, hand gripping my waist as he rove straight into me with a force that shook the bed. 

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

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad would your siblings be if you don’t go back to your bed tonight?” Jungkook whispered, burying his face in the slightly damp strands of my hair, breathing deeply before going back to running a small fluffy towel through the strands. 

I stared up at the ceiling , eyes at half mast because I was so sleepy, still pleasantly warm from the hot bath I’d just had . I was dressed in one of Jungkook’s big white t shirts , lying sideways on his bed with my head hanging over the edge because y hair was still wet. Jungkook being the perfect man that he was , was towel drying my wet locks for me. 

“Probably a twenty?” I grimaced. “ I need to be up early to go down to the kitchen. We’re taking the kids out to the park remember?” 

Jungkook groaned.

“Minae needs to be kept away from the sugar ... I am not going to piggy back her for two straight hours like yesterday.” He swore. 

i laughed, rolling over and smiling at him. 

“ She has a crush on you.” I grinned, waggling my eyebrows at him. 

He shook his head laughing. 

“I’m too old to be dealing with four year olds that have a crush on me., “He shuddered. I smiled, shaking my head because , Jungkook was the one who had begun helping out with the children and he was often the first to offer a piggyback ride to the kids. 

Being a single father, I knew he had experience with kids, of course. But still it was quite something watching him handle them with confident hands and a ridiculously kind disposition. And he didn’t shy away from  anything. Changing toddlers out of nappies, cleaning spit up off my office desk , even offering his nails for the smitten Minae to color with her markers.  

And it felt good to have him around, his presence somehow grounding me even during the most hectic of times. Story time with Mr. Jeon,  was fast becoming a thing, with Jungkook gathering all the younglings around him in a circle and regaling them with tales from his life ( a toned down, child friendly version of it of course ) while I set up the beds in the nap room, every afternoon. 

The kids slept for about an hour every afternoon and that was the time we ate our lunch, the workers heading off to the kitchen while Jungkook and I shared a meal cook sent up for us. The small stone bench on the yard was right outside the window of the nap room, and leaving the window open helped us keep an eye on the kids while we ate. 

Not too mention the effect it had on Joo Won. 

Although he spent most of his time with Somi and Jimin in the other cottage , learning his number work and language skills, he occasionally ran up to his father, eager to show off his work. Jungkook always dropped whatever he was doing to shower praises on his son and the boy thrived under the attention. 

The idea that I could do this with him for the rest of my life, was impossible to push out of  my head. 

But i wouldn’t bring it up. 

I would enjoy this , now while I had it and I would wait for him of course but I wasn’t going to play games with him. 

“I’m not meeting anyone else anymore.” I said quietly. 

He gave me a look. 

“anyone as in?..”

“Any vampires. potential suitors” I said with a shrug. “ I’m not going to. I’m going to tell my father I’m... not interested in it anymore.” 

Jungkook stopped his ministrations and gave me a guilty laden look.

“Sera, about tonight-”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” I glared at him. “ I loved it. I love you , as I’ve told you often enough and I also understand that you’re not there yet. and I can wait.”

Jungkook looked away.

“That’s not fair to you.” He said hoarsely.

“Maybe. But it’s still my choice. And My life. And if I choose to spend that life pining over you for the rest of eternity , that’s upto me.” I shrugged. 

He merely stared at me, lips turned down in a frown. 

“You’re too young to understand what you’re asking for Sera. You don’t realize how powerful you are. I’m not... I’m not good enough for you.” He shook his head. “ Far from it.” 

I rolled my eyes. 

“What does that even mean? You’re a vampire. There’s literally nothing that stops us from being together than your twisted belief that you aren’t good enough. Which is so baseless I could laugh. ”

Jungkook stared at me. 

“It’s not just about me. What about the kind of power you would have with the right vampire? not to mention the people in my life that  would want me fucking dead sera? You think everyone would just let it go? Me , a fucking nobody marrying the most adored girl in  our kind???  ” he laughed in disbelief. 

i frowned. 

“What do you mean ?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to elaborate but the door to his bedroom slammed open at that exact same moment and I jumped, terrified. Scrambling to my knees, I crawled back to the headboard just as Jungkook swore, moving to the door , bodychecking the figure that crashed through. 

“JEON FUCKING JUNGKOOK GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!!!!!” 

I felt my eyes widen in horror as my brother in law launched himself across the room, fingers closing right around Jungkook’s neck as he rammed into him, the two of them skidding across the floor and crashing into the ornate fireplace with a noise loud enough to wake the dead.

I stared, my brain unable to process what I was seeing. 

My sister appeared, eyes wild and panicked.

“Oh God... Sera I’m so sorry...he came to your room and saw you were gone...” she began but then stopped.  

Her eyes fell on the pandemonium in the corner and she yelped. 

“jIMIN!!!!” She screamed, rushing to the corner where the two vampires were locked together in a scuffle and the only thing I could think about was the fact that I was naked underneath his t shirt and if anyone else walked in-

“What is this ruckus?” The loud booming noise was familiar and terrifying and i squeaked, diving for the covers and crawling in as I stared horrified. The figure that appeared in the doorway was so imposing that all of us went still. Even Jungkook’s eyes widened as he took in the gargantuan man framed in the entryway. 

Hwang Jaebum was seven feet tall, 1800 years old and the scariest Vampire i had ever seen in my entire life. His skin was shriveled , his eyes permanently red and he stared at the two fighting vampires , now frozen and gawking at the towering vampire and he scrunched his nose in disgust before his red eyes flashed and landed on me. 

“There you are.” He said softly. “Sweet Seraphina.” 

The name, God.

 My uncle had named me and no one called me that but him. 

I swallowed, clutching the covers as sheer unadulterated terror coursed through my veins. I knew my uncle wouldn’t hurt me but still, power radiated off him in waves and I did not want to be on the receiving end of his displeasure. 

“Come here , child. Let me look at you.” 

I winced. 

Before I could react though, Jungkook was climbing on the bed, scrabbling to kneel right in front of me, arms stretched out to keep me from the vampire’s view. 

“Who the fuck are you?” He snarled and I gasped, stunned. God, Uncle Jae had killed people for less. 

I grabbed Jungkook quickly, pulling him back into my arms and away from the vampire who now looked suitably furious. 

“That’s my uncle. Shut up.” I hissed quickly. Jungkook didn’t show any sign of backing down, still crouched in front of me, muscles locked in a fighting stance and I clutched his shoulders, burying my face in his back. 

“Jungkook relax...” I begged but he merely grabbed my hand where it lay wrapped on his waist, squeezing gently. 

“It’s okay baby, I’m here.” He was still glaring at my uncle who peered over him to lock eyes with me. 

“Who is this? Why are you in his bed, Seraphina? “ My Uncles’ voice rumbled through the room, echoing off the rafters and Jimin and Somi scrambled to their feet. 

“Sire.... We didn’t know you were here already..” Jimin began, moving to stand in front of him but Jaebum ignored him, moving closer to the bed. 

“Who are you? Tell me now.” He snarled. 

I stared at the anger flashing in my uncle’s eyes  and I swallowed. 

“He is her intended, brother.” My father’s voice came from the doorway and i jumped a bit, staring over at the door. 

My father came floating in, face calm but eyes narrowed in annoyance as he stared at me. I found myself wilting under the glare. He was upset, Rightfully so. 

My uncle frowned, glancing at my father in disbelief. 

“She is betrothed?” He frowned. “ Why was I not informed of this?” 

My father gave him a reassuring smile.

“It is fairly new, this courtship. Jungkook and Sera are very fond of each other and they have my blessing.”

Next to me Jungkook had gone as pale as parchment. He moved up and away from me and my entire body went cold. 

I reached for his hand, flinching when he yanked it away.

Fuck.

Fuck. 

“I need to speak to the boy. What is your name boy?” My uncle growled at Jungkook. 

“Jeon Jungkook , sire.:”

He frowned.

“What clan are you from?” 

I flinched.

My father looked a little uncomfortable.

“Surely we can talk about this-”

“I was bitten , Sire.It’s just me and my son, now.” Jungkook’s voice was deep and steady and he stared right at my uncle. 

Uncle Jae’s eyes widened and then he stared at me.

“That is what you will settle for , Seraphina? A mongrel with tainted blood?” 

The sharp sound of hurt that came from Jungkook shattered my heart. 

But it was my father who growled, affronted. 

“That is enough. You are a guest , Jaebum and I will not have you insulting my daughter’s betrothed. Leave him be.”

My uncle laughed.

“It is not an insult. It is a fact...is it not, boy? Look at him... he knows his place. And it not by  her  side.” 

“Jungkook, don’t listen to him ...” i whispered feverishly , reaching for him again not letting him pull away and gripping his fingers hard. His fingers felt icy cold to the touch and there was no mistaking the sheer hurt radiating off his features. 

“Unless the girl is in trouble, I think you should sever the connection, Jaehyun.” My uncle snapped at my father . 

“We shall talk about this later. For now, I want you to remember your place, Jaebum. You have duties to attend to and my daughter’s choice is her own. I will not have you interfering in things that you aren’t responsible for.” My father’s voice was just as loud, radiated just as much authority and i had never loved him more. 

Jaebum scoffed once again before turning on his heel and leaving . I sagged in relief and Jungkook, got off the bed, moving away from me so quickly I felt like someone had stuck a knife in my gut. 

“Jimin and Somi, come. Jungkook , Sera. I want the two of you to come to my office after you fix yourself up.” My father said coldly. 

“Yes, Sir.” Jungkook bowed. 

“Yes,  father.” 

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

“Father....I...”

“You slept with him. “ My father said thoughtfully and I stared at my feet. There was no point denying it. 

“Has he agreed to court you?” He said sharply. 

I looked up at him, biting my lips.

“No.” I whispered.

My father’s eyes widened and he shot me a glare that could melt gold. 

“He fed from you during the act?” He demanded. I felt the phantom throb in my thighs at the memory. 

“Yes, father. “ I admitted.

“Then I must ask. Was it consensual?  Did you influence him in any way Seraphina.” 

My heart turned over, tears springing at the accusation. 

“No... No .. I didn’t.. he doesn’t know.. he doesn’t even know I can do that.” I whispered. 

“Could you have done it unconsciously? If Jungkook fed from you and you were near him you could have convinced him to do anything. He wouldn’t have been able to consent. You know this, Sera. I don’t understand how you could be so reckless. We are not monsters. We know our limits and we stick to them for fuck’s sake.” 

“He... we... I... It’s my fault. He didn’t.. He didn’t want to court me so I convinced him we could just...fool around. That was all it was. He loves his son father. He’s only here to give him a better life. I’m sorry.. I’m so sorry for being so selfish and ..Please just don’t send him away. I’ll never meet him again if that’s what you want but please....don’t send him away. .” I stared at my father, feeling the tears sting. 

My father’s gaze softened but he sighed, shaking his head as he held his arm out. I walked into his embrace, letting the tears fall as I clutched his robe. 

“You have not been selfish, dearest. . But, no matter who are, we cannot covet what we are never meant to have . Jungkook is not for you.” He whispered into my hair and I felt my insides clench in rebellion, every part of me screaming in protest at the phrase. 

No.. No... he was mine.. he had to be mine....

I was his and he was mine.

“ I’m going to offer him the position as head of the security team.” My father aid gently and I shuddered. 

“Father..”

“It will pay well. He will be working from the administrative building close to me. . There’s no reason for your paths to cross. Namjoon will take over as your bodyguard from tomorrow.” 

i nodded. 

“I want you to remember who you are. What you are capable of. I raised you to be kind and gentle but that does not change who you are, Sera. It doesn’t change what you are.” he said gently, eyes firm. 

I swallowed.

“You may leave.”

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

Jungkook stared at the whiskey decanter on the table. watching Sera’s father pour him a drink. His eyes focused on the golden liquid, the way it caught the light and danced with all the colors of autumn. 

“I’m going to ask you one thing. I want you to answer me, as truth fully as you would your own father.” 

Jungkook was a father, himself. He knew the anger and trepidation in the man’s gaze was real. He knew exactly what it felt like, that desperate clawing need to keep your child safe. To destroy anything that dare hurt them. 

“Do you love my daughter?” The man’s voice shook a little. 

“I cannot court her.” He whispered. “ I’m not... I can’t. “

“That is not what i asked .” The older man said gently. 

He shook his head.

“I don’t have the right to feel anything but respect for her, sir.” Jungkook said softly. 

The vampire shook his head laughing.

“Your eyes tell me all you refuse to say, Jungkook ah. You care deeply for her, do you not?  it is obvious in the tremble of your hand. it was obvious in the way you stood up to my brother, when surely everything in your blood must’ve screamed to back away from a Vampire of such a high ranking. ” 

Jungkook clenched his fists. 

Sera’s father went on. 

“I know you love her and honestly, If you didn’t.... you wouldn’t be alive right now.” 

Jungkook winced. 

“Yes , sir.” He croaked. 

“I will destroy entire continents for my daughter. You know this. “ He said quietly. 

Jungkook nodded. He believed the man . 

“Which is why I must ask. Who is after you?”

Jungkook’s eyes snapped up, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Sir...”

“I’m not the head of the largest clan in the country for nothing. You are protecting your son...but from what? A man of your reputation , choosing to stay inside an estate , helping out with infants and children.... it doesn’t make sense. So tell me. What are you hiding from? And how can I help?” 

Jungkook stared at his hands. 

“It’s Joowon’s grandfather. The man who’s daughter I killed.” 

Sera’s father stiffened. 

“Ahh... yes. Gong Tae Kwan. An old nemesis .” He shook his head, sighing. “ You’ve made a powerful enemy , Jungkook.”

Jungkook nodded.

“I know. I’m no match for him. And I know he’s  not going to stop until he kills me and my son.” 

“You’re right. He’s not going to stop. Now, what so you want to do? Hide out till he finally catches up or confront him like the warrior you are?” 

“i can’t do it. I need to be here for Joo Won.... It would be suicidal...”

“ Only if you’re alone. “

“Sir?”

“It would be suicidal , if you were to confront him alone.” 

“Are you saying that...”

“I’m going to be there with you. We are going to lure the bastard out , and we are going to end this once and for all.”

“Sir, i can’t ask you to...”

“You’re not asking me damn thing kid. I’m doing this for my daughter’s sake. And you are going to repay me by making her as happy as you possibly can.” He said sternly. 

Jungkook flushed

“Sir.. I’m sorry I...”

“When this ends, and it will....you will court her. You will court her, because unlike what you think, you do not get to decide whether you’re worthy of being my daughter’s consort. She does.” He gave him a smile, reaching out and clamping a hand on his shoulder. “  If she chooses you it means you’re worthy. And she has chosen you , Jeon Jungkook . Don’t be the idiot who walks away from the best thing to ever happen to him, son. ” 

Jungkook stared at him.

He took a deep breath. 

“Yes, father.” He said with a small smile. 

The older man laughed out loud. 

“Excellent. Now come, we have a murder to plot. “ 

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

Author’s Note : Well....now the plot picks up... :D :D feedback is always welcomed !! Come scream with me about how amazing Sera’s father is!!!!

@ladyartemesia        @veronawrites   @alpaca1612     @bonyg    @unseejuice21  @sppvjj     @ggukkieland     @tae-by-tae      @blr1004      @yoongichild    @stussyjeon  @jellybearo  @sumzysworld   @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon  @unicornbabylover 

@preciouschimine    @baekhyunatthehaunted-house @craztextae

@nikkiordonez12​

drop me a message if i missed you name for the tag list Thank you. 

#jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #bts fanfic #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #jeon jungkook

[probably-haven]

If there’s one thing I’ve taken away from Inazuma.... it’s that the traveler is absolutely terrifying

I mean it had been shown before but never in a way that made it all that obvious

but not only are they (even at their current power level) one of the strongest beings in Teyvat, but also highly intelligent and uncannily skilled at manipulation. 

The traveler has been in Teyvat for how long? Not very, and even in just that small span of time they had to use a considerable amount of it learning Teyvat’s language, just to be able to communicate, and the speed with which they because seemingly fluent is just one thing

And although it could just be for plot convenience- the fact that they have somehow managed to get on familiar and even friendly terms with nearly every single powerful person that they’ve come across, collecting powerful contacts and connections like fucking pokemon cards, and how good they are at getting people to tell them their secrets and other information.

The fact that they can literally put on a mask and manage to pull it off as an effective disguise. 

And speaking of information, they’ve only recently came to Teyvat and it’s likely that they already know more dangerous information than anyone except the people directly connected to the events and- maybe Lisa and Mona

and yeah a lot of that is just video game things but still-

that one scene in Xingqiu’s quest where he pretends to be a noble to get that one professionally trained guard to tell them where his boss is- like its passed off as a comedic scene but that guy was a professional- he has one job, and the traveler managed to get around even that-

and Eula’s quest???!!!!! the whole thing just plays to their specialties and all they had to do was learn the etiquette and they had it mastered

but in inazuma.....

That one scene with the crystal marrow merchant... that’s not just being a people person- those were actually like- legitimate deliberate manipulation tactics- 

and the entirety of Thoma’s whole test thing really- and everything-

like excuse me??? the inazuma stealth quest- did they just- disassemble Ritou’s government basically single handedly???????

and yet another reminder that in the canon story the traveler is doing everything completely alone(except for Paimon, but she doesn’t exactly- help with combat), single handedly- which seriously wtf....

and the fact that- they declared the duel against signora when they did, forcing the Raiden Shogun’s hand, not only to allow them to leave alive, but also to eliminate one of their enemies for them....

Plus there’s the whole kill-count/looting thing

and yet there’s really nobody who actually seems to be weary of this???? like they’re all like “oh traveler, yeah they’re oddly helpful, a cool person”  the traveler has literally managed to make like everyone trust him- the physical power they have- the knowledge/information they have- the intellectual power they have- Heck honestly? the traveler is even probably one of the most politically powerful people in Teyvat at this point, what with all the connections they have-

and yet they still manage to keep their humanity and general compassion towards others?? which inazuma has shown is slowly starting to fade in favor of their own personal goals???

like- i dont know how to finish this post but I just figured itd be fun to ramble about since i have really seen anyone else bring it up that i know of and i think thats a real shame because dang- Traveler is terrifying

#genshin impact #genshin aether #genshin traveler #genshin lumine #genshin inazuma

[justatalkingface]

Given how UA completely ignored the existence of the spy, what would you say is the most devastating way AFO or Shigaraki could have employed their spy to do the most damage possible? This is assuming hero plot armor won't save the good guys.

My knee jerk answer is a bomb, or poison or something... but that's not quite it. There's something else they could do, something even worse than that, which would take just a little more effort on their parts to do. It's a simple, three step plan; are you ready?

Step One: Have Yuga help get them into records (presumably he'd only be able to do so much, but he'd be able to get Kurogiri parked right next to the room simply enough, so he could take the filing cabinets or computers or whatever and send them to AFO to open with one of his Quirks). Find the homes of everyone, along with any other pertinent information (what Quirk do they have? Are there any heroes that live there? (Admittedly, that one may not be in records, but it seems somewhat likely)). For obvious reasons, this is before the Heights Alliance stuff, because among other things AFO needs to be free to act for this. Return all the records and leave no trace that they did this.

Step Two: AFO and Kurogiri make a night of visiting the students and staff at their homes, making sure to take steps for each Quirk to minimize how much time it takes, and the possibility of anyone noticing (student breaths fire? Prep the ice Quirk). And I mean all of them, starting with the OP bullshit of Aizawa who, yes, does in fact live in a house, with a phone number and information for people to find him because he has professional responsibilities as a hero and a teacher, underground or not (and fundamentally even an underground hero will have that stuff; people seem to think 'underground' means 'off the grid' when it's actually more, 'I'm bowing out of the celebrity portion of the job experience'). Since Aizawa is the most dangerous/important, start the raid when he's home and vulnerable, and just pipe some sleeping gas into his house, and then proceed from there.

Even assuming some are away from home for awhile, that should still be at least... half? Three quarters? Of the students who will be ambushed, have their Quirks stolen, or kidnapped for Nomu experimentation, depending on what seems more useful. If they aren't killed or taken, AFO then puts all the people asleep for a day or two, to keep them out of the ways so they stay under the radar as long as possible. Those teachers he finds will, of course, be killed after their Quirk is stolen because, you know, full fledged heroes. The two of them will do this as long as they can, taking as many Quirks and students as they can, until the news breaks, people lose their shit, and start responding.

Step Three: Profit. AFO now has a metric shit ton of new Quirks, many of which are useful, and including the one Quirk that is the biggest threat to AFO's plans, UA has been gutted of students, and without a doubt their reputation is destroyed beyond all salvation. Mass panic sets in as people realize how vulnerable their heroes are, how weak and imperfect and human they are, and that several generations of their most promising students are just gone in a single night. If he's really lucky, they'll respond by grouping the survivors in one place, letting him go round two on his shopping spree.

His plan done, AFO can now lounge back in his chair and laugh, trying out his new Quirks, while his doctor has a ball with his new test subjects and Japan falls into chaos.

#ask #bnha critical #mha critical #AFO should be a LOT scarier than he is #so much scarier #the things he could do with his skills information and powers is fucking terrifying

[snelbz]

A Battlefield’s Miracle {Nessian}

A/N: This story is based post ACOSF. It will 100% contain spoilers for A Court of Silver Flames. Do not read forward if you have not finished the book yet! Written, as always, with @tacmc.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There couldn’t have been a worse time or inopportune moment for a miracle.

When war did indeed break out with the remaining fae realms, ready to take up whatever lands were weaker their own, Nesta was one of the first to step up, much to Cassian’s utter dismay and terror.

And his disgustingly overwhelming pride.

She’d been making strides with the female Illyrians, thanks to re-emergence of the Valkyrie ranks. She, Gwyn and Emerie were infamous for their success in the Blood Rite, Nesta more so even if she wasn’t labeled a true Carynthian. Her stand at the Pass of Enalius was regarded as something straight from the legends, something rivaling Enalius’ stand itself.

Most of the women couldn’t fly, thanks to the archaic clipping of their wings, but thanks to their innate sense of battle, having grown up seeing their fathers, brothers, and cousins train, they were naturals. 

They were the Valkyrie reborn, a swift, deadly legion of foot soldiers, who could kill just as well as any airborne soldier.

At Nesta’s request, Rhys and Cassian allowed them to protect the mortal lands from the incoming storm of battle. A small Illyrian legion was with them, but not to oversee or protect them. They were backup, only joining the fight if the majority of the Valkyrie were to fall.

It had been nearly three months of near daily battles when they received word of an incoming assault, larger than one they’d seen yet. To battle with as few soldiers as they had would be suicide. The full power of the Illyrian Legion would be arriving any day to ensure the protection of the mortal lands, and the continued strength of the Valkyrie. Feyre had winnowed into the camp to tell her, but Nesta could only focus on one piece of information as her sister hurriedly informed her of the plan, and of the onslaught they’d soon be facing: her mate would be here within the hour, the remainder of the Night Court’s aerial forces only a day or so behind.

It had been months since she’d seen him, though they checked in on each other regularly through the bond, mentally checking the other for injuries after a harsh battle. The mating bond was a sensual, tangible thing, something Nesta was increasingly thankful for the longer she stayed away from her mate and husband.

She felt a shift in the camp the second his feet touched down in the frozen lands, turning and rushing from the war tent she’d taken as her base of operations, leaving Feyre in the middle of a sentence, but not caring that she was ignoring her High Lady.

She found him as quickly as he found her, meeting in a small clearing, filled with tents. She was sure there were others around, whether Valkyrie or Illyrian, watching their reunion. Nesta needed him, in every sense of the word, but after she threw her arms around him she found herself pulling back to look him over. She was terrified there was something she had missed after his last battle, and it seemed he was doing the same.

“You’re okay,” she breathed, gazing up into his handsome face.

He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “So are you.”

Neither of them were asking a question, just needing the confirmation.

They disappeared soon after, falling into the nearest tent to make their overwhelming feelings known to one another. The emotions that escaped them in the following half hour only prepared them for battle more.

A battle that they faced together.

Just over a month later, once Cassian had left and Nesta was leading her sisters into yet another battle, the first wave of nausea came.

She powered through, ignoring the roiling in her stomach, chalking it up to nerves as she cut through the line of fae soldiers.

But it happened again, day after day. And eventually, leaning over a bucket as she emptied the contents of her stomach, she couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

Nesta was pregnant.

She hadn’t even realized Gwyn and Emerie had entered her tent, having heard her getting sick. Her head was cradled in her hands and she cursed herself for being so reckless. All those months apart from Cassian, she’d quit taking her contraceptive tonic. There was no reason to, and it only slowed her down on the battlefield. But a quick and hasty joining, as perfect as it had been, was all it had taken.

“Nesta?”

Her head snapped up, finding her sisters, not by blood, but by bond, watching her. It was Emerie who had spoken her name, but Gwyn’s teal eyes had gone wide. She could scent it. Somehow, over the smell of bile in the bucket before her and the blood soaked battlefield, Gwyn had immediately sensed the change in Nesta’s scent and body.

“You’re pregnant,” she breathed and Emerie’s eyes widened as she too caught the scent.

Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, terrified to confirm or deny the life growing inside her.

A message was sent to Velaris and within minutes, Feyre and Madja had winnowed into the camps.

It took the healer less than a few minutes to confirm the small life within her.

“You’re coming back to Velaris,” Feyre said, as Madja washed her hands and went to tend to the badly wounded from the previous battle.

“No,” Nesta protested, donning her leathers, as she did every day. “I’m leading my sisters.”

“Gwen and Emerie can take the lead,” Feyre protested. “They are just as skilled and know what they’re doing-.”

“I can’t just leave them-.”

“You’re pregnant!” Feyre yelled, and the look of pure panic on her youngest sister’s face had Nesta stopping in her tracks. The High Lady of the Night Court’s voice turned into a broken whisper as she begged, “Please, think this through.”

Nesta’s jaw hardened as she lifted her chin, doing everything she could to keep herself from shaking her head. “Do you expect Cassian to come back to Velaris? To sit idly while our troops battle to protect Prythian?”

“I expect him to do his duty,” Feyre said, her tone firm. “Just as I expect you to do yours.”

Her words were clear.

Nesta’s duty - not as a soldier, but as a mother. 

She shook her head, her eyes remaining on her sister’s. “He’ll miss it.”

It. Everything. All of it. Her pregnancy, the child growing inside of her, possibly even the birth of their child.

The gut-wrenching thought was overwhelming. 

Nesta fell back against the bed, sitting and letting her head fall into her hands, her nerves shot. She needed to talk to Cassian, needed to sort it out.

“Nesta.”

Her eyes shot to Feyre’s, the eyes identical to her own. Except her youngest sister’s eyes held fear. Fear for her safety, the safety of her unborn niece or nephew. 

With a sigh, Nesta let her eyes fall shut and nodded. She dragged a hand down her face, and said, “I need to meet with Gwyn and Em. I need to plan with them, figure out how to rework the front line-.”

“They can handle it.”

The voice came from behind her and she turned to find Azriel stepping through the tent.

Nesta’s eyes softened as she took in her friend, one of the warriors who had trained her into who she was today.

“They had the same training you did,” he said, coming to stand next to her sister. “I’ll stay here for a couple weeks, but you can’t stay. It’s not safe for you. Or for the baby.”

Nesta lifted a brow. 

Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. “If you think I’m letting you stay here during this-.”

“Since when do you order me around, Shadowsinger?” Nesta asked, meaning it as a joke, but finding it hard to dismiss the tension from her tone. 

Azriel could tell.

He could always tell. His eyes softened, although his frame remained rigid. “As soon as Cassian arrives, I’ll winnow him to you.”

We’re in the middle of a gods-damned war! Nesta wanted to scream. And yet, she was conflicted. She knew what she had to do, knew what this new duty entailed, knew what her next step would be, even if she didn’t fully like the idea.

She never backed down from battle, from war, from anything.

But she would not endanger her child, no matter how guilty it made her feel.

With a resigned sigh, Nesta nodded and reached her hand out towards her sister. Before Feyre took her hand, she looked at Azriel, unable to stop the tear that had finally slid down her cheek. “Tell them I’m sorry,” she breathed.

His smile was gentle, but even she had a hard time believing him as he said, “You have no reason to be.”

With that she was winnowed away, back to Velaris, as far from the small camp on the mortal lands as she could be. Far from her soul-bonded sisters, and fellow warriors. Far from the raging battles she’d grown to know as a part of her.

As soon as Cassian touched down in the ramshackle camp, he knew something wasn’t right. None of the Valkyrie would look at him and the bond… It was near silent.

He hurried for her tent, not even remembering what the summons he’d received had said, not that he’d read it all too carefully. He’d been asked to get to the mortal realm as fast as he could and after leaving his tent, he found the first Fae he knew that could winnow.

It had only been minutes since that small note had appeared from Rhysand, and he burst into the tent and found not his mate, but his brother.

“What the fuck is going on, Az?”

His voice held none of the joking tone it usually did when he spoke with the shadowsinger, but-.

He could scent her, she’d been here only a few moments before. But something was…off.

Words barely audible, a deathly quiet, terrified whisper, he breathed, “Where is Nesta?”

Without a word, Azriel held out his scarred hand.

Cassian took it and then they were tumbling through space and time and he had no idea where they were going to end up.

Where was Nesta? Where was his mate?

When they appeared in the atrium of the river house, Cassian looked around. “I don’t understand.”

“Your mate is waiting for you,” Azriel replied, gesturing towards their room, and it was then Cassian noted the hint of a smile on his face.

And like that, he was gone, disappearing into shadows and mist as if he hadn’t even been standing before him.

The house was quiet and Cassian took the stairs two at a time, hurrying down the long hallway until he approached their closed bedroom door.

He debated on knocking, not sure what he’d find on the other side, but with a shaking hand, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Nesta was inside the attached bathroom, wearing the pants of her leathers, though the intricate jacket was draped across the end of the bed. She wore a thin, white shirt, which showed off her toned arms. He couldn’t see any discernible wounds on her, but was still hesitant as he took a step into the bathroom.

She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come in, but suddenly, he appeared in the mirror behind her, and the force of her emotions hit her all at once.

She was in his arms instantly, breathing in his scent with an eagerness she hadn’t felt since their last encounter. Neither of them said a word as their clothes hit the floor, but the second Cassian’s lips met her neck, all of his, his primal instincts faded and he swept back into reality the moment he found himself focusing on her scent.

The change in it.

His chest heaved as he pulled back and met her tearful gaze. 

“How long have you known?” he asked, quietly. 

She shook her head, slowly. The soft chuckle was involuntary. “Not even an hour.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he said, quietly.

It wasn’t a question, but Nesta nodded, even as she ignored the urge to roll her eyes. “High Lady’s orders.”

Lifting her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed, his carnal instincts long forgotten, and he laid down next to her. Cassian’s hand hovered over her stomach, a small, barely discernible bump there, hardly able to believe what was in front of him.

“The battle against Rask’s forces,” he said, voice quiet. “You hadn’t been taking your tonic?”

Sniffling, she shook her head and gently pressed his hand the rest of the way to her skin, to her belly. “It hadn’t been on my mind,” she admitted.

Cassian was quiet for a moment before he huffed a laugh, his fingers moving in a slow, clockwise rotation over her abdomen. “A baby.”

Nesta nodded, watching him. “It’s not a good time.”

“Is there ever a good time?” Cassian muttered, looking up at her. “The reality of our world doesn’t grant us much peace.” 

“Is it even fair to bring a child into this world?” Nesta whispered.

Cassian’s eyes softened, although they held no judgement. “I thought you wanted children.”

“I did,” she said, then followed it quickly with, “I do. It’s just… We’re in the middle of war, Cass.” 

“War will end,” he promised, his eyes growing soft. “Soon.”

She closed her eyes, gently pressing her forehead against his, and the two of them laid there, quietly basking in the happiness of the little miracle they’d created. Of the child they would soon bring into this world.

Cassian couldn’t stay long, only able to stay the night and have breakfast with his family. Azriel was still monitoring the front at the mortal lands, but the rest of his family was there. There was no shield to be put up to mask Nesta’s scent, so the second Elain walked into the vast dining room and found her eldest sister, she froze. And as soon as she scented the change, she was in motion. Her arms were around Nesta in a flash, the sound coming from her reminiscent of a mix of a sob and laugh.

But as soon as breakfast had been cleared away, after Nyx had woken from his nap, Rhysand and Cassian stepped out into the lush yard. With a final surge of love and pride down the bond, they vanished into the air, back to the Illyrian front.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Breathe.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister and High Lady a look of pure hatred. Feyre only rolled her eyes and held her sister’s hand a little bit tighter. 

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” Nesta hissed, although her entire body was rigid and clenched. 

Labor was no joke. Nesta had watched her mother birth two more children after her, and even though she was too young to remember, she never forgot the horrid screams that came from her mother’s bedroom.

Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain all hovered around the bed, keeping Nesta as comfortable as possible until Madja arrived.

And until her mate arrived.

Since she’d found out, it had been the longest nine months of her life, only seeing Cassian in small moments when he could leave the bloodshed of battle. Once it was apparent her water had broken, Rhys had winnowed to the location he’d known Cassian’s camp had been last, only to find it hastily packed and abandoned. The sounds of battle weren’t far off, but Rhys could sense the death without moving closer.

He’d tried to mentally reach Cassian, but found his shields were locked in place, as he often did during a bloody battle. Azriel, however, was by his side in an instant. “What is it?”

He could smell the blood of both mortal men and the fae on his brother, not daring to look into his mind to see who all he’d had to cut down in battle. “Nesta’s in labor.”

A sharp swallow was the only reaction Azriel allowed his High Lord to see. He said, “He won’t leave the battle, you know that.”

He would, Rhys thought, if he used his power, his title of High Lord to command him. But he would never do that, especially asking him to abandon his post during a battle. Rhys only nodded. “I know. Just… As soon as it dies down, as soon as he comes back to himself, get him to Velaris.”

Azriel nodded, his orders received,  and he was gone, a misting, swirling shadow folding back into the fray.

It was hours before the violence subsided, hours before Cassian finally removed his helmet, surveying the carnage and death that surrounded him. He felt Azriel’s presence, rather than saw him appear, and turned to his brother, expecting a report of who all had been lost.

The look on his face told him otherwise.

“What.”

He still wasn’t fully back to himself yet, though he tried. He still wore the mask of the Commander, the male who had slaughtered so many, to protect his people, Enalius reborn.

Azriel’s words were quiet, but urgent. “It’s time.”

Cassian blinked, not understanding what his brother was saying.

And then he dropped his shields and everything from the other end of the bond slammed into him with a force so strong her face physically staggered back a step.

Labor.

Nesta was in labor.

His child was about to enter the world and he’d been so lost in his battle lust that he’d blocked her out.

“How long?” He asked, eyes going wide.

Azriel shook his head. “I’m not sure. At least four hours.”

Swallowing hard, Cassian looked around at the death and destruction around him. He looked down at the blood and gore that coated his hands and his leathers. He couldn’t abandon his troops after a battle, but his mate…

His child…

There was no question.

Azriel extended his hand and Cassian took it, and a second later, there was nothing but shadows left behind.

*****************

“Nesta, you’re going to have to start pushing,” Elain said, gently, brushing the loose, sweaty strands of hair off of Nesta’s forehead.

“No,” she gritted out, her teeth clenched together. “I can’t. Not until-.” Another wave of blinding pain passed through her and the scream that tore from her was pure agony. Once she could think again, speak again, she breathed, “Not until Cassian is here.”

“That’s not in your control, I’m afraid,” Madja chimed in from the foot of the bed. “Baby will come when baby comes, and baby is ready.”

“Not unless I say so,” Nesta spat, just before another scream flew from her throat. “Fuck!”

“Baby’s coming,” Madja said, remaining perfectly calm as she put herself into position. With Nesta’s hand in Elain’s, and her other in Feyre’s, she had no choice but to push. 

Madja was right.

Baby wasn’t waiting.

There was a thundering on the stairs, and heavy footsteps approached the door before it flew open.

A sob tore from Nesta as Cassian appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide, taking in the scene before him.

“Nes,” he breathed, taking a few steps towards her, but Feyre stepped in front of him.

“You can’t be in here,” she said, firmly.

His eyes narrowed. “Like hell, I can’t.”

“The High Lady is correct,” Madja chimed in, turning back to glance at him. “You are…covered in filth, and Lady Nesta cannot chance an infection.”

“He’s my mate,” she breathed, panting slightly from the pain, the urge to push.

“He’s covered in blood, Nesta,” Feyre said, turning back to look at her.

“We do not have time to wait for him to bathe and return,” Madja said, looking under the blanket draped across Nesta’s lap, to provide what modesty she could. “The baby is ready, my lady. It’s time.”

A firm hand wrapped around Cassian’s arm and began to tug him towards the door. He turned to find Rhysand when he was out in the hall and the door was shut on a phantom wind.

It was only a few seconds before he heard a sob and a yell full of anguish and suffering.

The sound made him want to vomit.

“Bath is ready,” Rhysand said, his hand still around Cassian’s arm. “Bathe, go back. Until then, she’s in good hands.”

“I’m missing it,” Cassian breathed, but before he could form a cohesive thought, he was being shoved into a tub full of warm water. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had stripped him down and were scrubbing his skin raw in a matter of seconds. Cassian couldn’t focus, though, could hardly feel as they cleansed the blood and gore and carnage from his skin. 

All he could focus on was Nesta’s screaming from upstairs. 

Cassian helped them scrub his massive frame, and between the three of them they washed the remains of battle from the Commander until the lukewarm bath water turned pink from the blood of his enemies and his fallen comrades. 

As soon as he was clean, the wraiths vanished, allowing him to dry off and redress himself, a tunic and pants left on the counter of the bathroom. Every scream from his wife had him flinching, every cry and overwhelming wave of pain reaching him down the bond now that his shields had been fully dropped.

But suddenly, the screams stopped. Suddenly, love and adoration was all he could feel from Nesta, and he threw open the door and was hurrying up the stairs again, his bare feet padding against the carpet.

The door was slightly open, cracked just a hair, and he could hear quiet murmuring from inside. Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open.

He froze, his body growing completely still as he took in the sight before him. Nesta laid in the bed, her chest heaving, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Elain and Feyre were both smiling, crying themselves, as they looked to the foot of the bed, where Madja was holding the smallest of babes.

A baby.

Nesta’s baby.

His baby.

The gentlest of cries filled the silence. 

Madja chuckled, softly, as she cut the umbilical cord and laid the baby on the softest of towels to clean her up.

Her.

He had a daughter.

“Cass?”

Cassian’s eyes drifted to Nesta and his vision blurred.

He didn’t consciously tell his body to move, didn’t remember asking his feet to carry him across the room, but before he knew it, he was kneeling by the bed, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispered, the tears already streaming down his cheeks. “You did so, so good.”

“Lord Cassian.”

He pressed a kiss to Nesta’s forehead, but moved back, allowing Madja to lay the small bundle in Nesta’s arms. Her tiny wings were loosely tucked inside the blanket she was wrapped in.

Nesta’s eyes filled with tears again as she looked down at the precious baby in her arms. “She’s beautiful.”

Silently, Nesta’s sisters and the healer left them alone, to spend a few moments last as a family.

The tiny baby began to fuss and Nesta softly brushed a finger along her cheek, gently shushing her.

She calmed immediately.

“She looks like you,” Cassian whispered, staring at his daughter in awe. “Has your nose. Your lips.”

“Your skin,” Nesta breathed. “And that unruly, curly hair of yours.” 

Cassian huffed a laugh. True enough, little tufts of dark curls covered her head. “She’s perfect.” 

Nesta didn’t reply. She simply swept her thumb over their daughter’s soft cheek. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Cassian said, at last. “I… I’m sorry I missed it, that I wasn’t here for you.”

“You’re here now,” she murmured, looking up at him. “You’re here and that’s all that matters.”

With a soft smile, Cassian wiped a wayward tear from her cheek and pressed his lips to hers.

Beaming up at him, Nesta whispered, “Hold her.”

He froze up a little, only having held Nyx a handful times when he was a baby. Babies were fragile and he was…

Well, there was a reason both Nesta and Amren had always called him a brute.

“It’s okay,” Nesta breathed, sensing his hesitation.

He nodded and sat down on the bed next to her. She transferred the tiny bundle to him and her eyes opened almost as soon as she settled in his arms.

Eyes like the storm gazed up at him and Cassian had never felt so much love in his heart.

He swallowed roughly, brushing a gentle thumb across her cheek. He looked up at Nesta. “Have you thought of a name?”

She smiled, fondly, softly. “Brenna.”

“Brenna,” Cassian repeated. “I like Brenna.” 

“I’ve been holding onto that name for a while,” Nesta said, quietly.

Cassian chuckled. “I can tell. There was no hesitation.”

Nesta smiled as her head fell against Cassian’s shoulder. She looked down at her daughter. “Brenna felt right.” 

After pressing a kiss to the top of Nesta’s head, Cassian gazed down at their daughter. “She’s… she’s perfect.”

“She is,” Nesta replied, a gentle yawn breaking through her words.

Cassian scooted closer on the bed, careful not to jostle their daughter who had settled back into a deep sleep of her own. He wrapped an arm around Nesta’s shoulders, and she wrapped herself around him as best she could.

In that moment, Cassian couldn’t imagine anything else mattering in this world. No lands, no wars, no hidden troves beneath the sea. In his arms, his wife and his daughter, were the most precious treasures he had ever received.

#a court of silver flames #nessian #acosf spoilers #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice: Part 7 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

masterlist

You cannot touch the meal until Yuta is done, despite the tantalizing smell of kamuth invading your nostrils. And you cannot leave the table either. But by the fourth day of your patience training, you had the skill down.

Ignore the rumbling of your belly, you tell yourself. If he says something off-color, answer with “yes, of course” or “you’re absolutely right”.

“Besides, what good is a servant if they don’t have two legs to serve? You might as well be like the rest of the street urchins and crawl along, hoping for scraps.”

“Yes, of course,” you reply, hands in your lap, itching to eat the delicacy and then wring Yuta’s throat.

“I’m done.” Yuta stands, tossing down his napkin and walking out of the room without so much as a goodnight. But this was the signal. As soon as the doors close to the room, you practically inhale the meal, swallowing the wine down greedily. You’re much too busy eating to hear Gojo land in the room with your daily letter, but when a hand reaches around your shoulder to snatch the egg tart off your plate, you sigh.

“If you want the letter, you know what you need to fork over.” You let him take the treat, and he hands you the folded paper immediately. “He was working hard on this one today. Got him all in a huff. Please don’t ask me to read anything,” Gojo moans, walking toward the window to eat his stolen goods in peace.

My love,

You’re working so hard, and I am so proud of you. I know Yuta can be a demanding person, and your growth in only a few days is remarkable.

“Re...mark...able…” you sound out to yourself before continuing.

Gojo will not tell you this piece of news, but I will. Toji is on the prowl for you. I know he will not be able to slip past Yuta without him being aware of the issue, but keep your eyes open for anything amiss. There are only a few days left until our reunion. I love you and will love you until every star in the sky goes dark.

Stay safe.

Suguru

“Pen and paper,” you demand, and Gojo presents it to you without hesitation before you scribble your response. When you hand the paper back to him, he grunts once, then climbs out of the window and descends into the depths below. You don’t watch him, instead choosing to swallow the rest of your wine and wipe your hands on the napkin, leaving the plates and glasses where they are.

When you make it back to your room, you see an attendant has drawn a bath for you, and you undress then climb into the warm water, sighing in pleasure. You’d asked for privacy during these moments, desiring to wind down instead of chatting with anyone. As the sky darkens outside, you hear the whistling of the wind and close your eyes, wishing Suguru would come sweeping in and comfort you. You imagine that he would massage your shoulders first, whispering about how well you’re doing and how proud he is of you.

You feel an actual set of hands on your shoulders, and you jolt upright, but they clamp down hard, pushing you back down in the tub.

“Don’t. Move. Scream, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you do.” Your breath wheezes out of you at the sound of Toji Fushiguro’s voice. You freeze in the tub, facing away from him, but captured under his grip. “I have to admit, getting to you was a lot harder than I expected. But you’re well-protected. Too bad Yuta’s barriers aren’t working as well as they used to.”

“I--”

“Hush, human. I have some questions for you, and if you lie to me, I’ll kill you right here. If you tell me the truth, I’ll let you live for a little while longer. Understand?”

“Yes,” you breathe, suddenly feeling a bit weaker than before, like life is draining from your bones as you spend time under Toji’s grip.

“Why are you not immortal yet?”

“I-I couldn’t read the contract,” you whisper shakily as lightheadedness sets in, and Toji huffs a laugh.

“And why is Geto keeping illiterate human scum in his Temple?”

“Because he loves me,” you reply. The fingers on your shoulders tighten and you wince, hoping he wouldn’t prod further.

“He’s been fucking you, hasn’t he?” You don’t have to reply for Toji to understand. “Tsk, tsk. Not something that’s usually allowed… A god and a sacrifice? Unholy, I would venture to say.”

“Will he get in trouble?” you wonder suddenly, your stomach twisting into knots and your vision blurring slightly as you weaken.

“You’re in no position to ask me any questions, sacrifice.” Toji’s mouth draws closer to your ear. “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” At the sound of your name, he drops his hands from your shoulders and the sapping sensation leaves you slowly as your body regains control over itself.

“Y/n, I look forward to seeing you soon. Next time, tell Geto to dress you up nicely for me. And have Cly bring you with her after you become immortal. I’m sure you’d enjoy our nights of… fun. If Geto can have his little playthings, I should enjoy them as well.” You turn to face the God of Death, but he’s vanished completely, not leaving a trace of his presence.

You consider informing Yuta of Toji’s appearance, but as you towel off and drag yourself to the bed, you realize it would do nothing but worry Yuta and possibly worry Geto. You had to finish your lessons first, then you would tell Yuta.

As you climb into bed, you still feel the weakness in your body. The power of the God of Death is nothing to trifle with, you think to yourself, and now you fully realize why everyone is terrified of him. If he could render you weak in seconds, imagine what he could do to a god if given an eternity?

_____________________________________________________________

“Sleeping until noon is unusual for her,” you hear as you fade back into the land of the conscious. When you open your eyes, Yuta is hovering over you, flanked by Gojo on the left. Gojo’s eyes run over you worriedly, and you rub your own, looking up at Yuta’s confused expression.

“Did you stay up late?” Gojo wonders, flipping the letter in his hands around and around.

“Y-yes,” you lie, shaking your head. “Sorry to worry you.” When you look up at Yuta’s dark blue gaze, however, you notice that he’s squinting at you. But he seems to leave his suspicions when he backs up and crosses his arms over his chest.

“We have news. Toji’s been spotted nearby and I’m afraid he’s going to try to get to you soon. I need to teach you how to defend yourself. I had hoped we would get to this later, but it seems like the threat is real enough for us to speed past patience and straight to combat.”

“Combat?” You swallow hard, but Yuta shrugs your trepidation off.

“We’ll have Nobara come by after you eat so she can help you with your weapons handling. And you’ll be practicing hand to hand combat with me,” Gojo announces, thumbing at himself with pride before handing you the letter and walking out of your room. Yuta walks to the door, then turns around, looking at you with a stern expression.

“You didn’t happen to encounter Toji yesterday, did you, y/n?” He raises his brow at you, but you immediately reply,

“No.” Yuta seals his lips, then walks out of the room, closing your doors behind you.

When you open the seal on the letter, a slip of fabric falls out. When you examine the fabric, you realize it was taken from the outfit you wore to dinner the night before, and you read the words on the page slowly, then again, and again, and again; fear racing down your spine.

Toji left this for me on our bed.

Did he hurt you?

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious@missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sasahime @ggotgame @just4readingfics

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #yuta okkotsu #gojo satoru #jjk #getou x reader #getou suguru #geto suguru

[ukiyoexo]

HAUNT ME, BABY! — PJS

PAIRINGS — nct, park jisung x reader

GENRES — ghost!jisung, quarantine!au, humour, lots of fluff (+grumpy!cute!jisung), angst (?)

SYNOPSIS — when you see a ghost, you’re supposed to be scared right? yeah, that’s what jisung thought too until he met you.

a night spent in boredom leads you to lighting random candles and attempting to summon a ghost. you never expected it to work — or for the spirit to be so cute.

WARNINGS — ghost summoning, mentions of blood, swearing, pricking your skin for blood, mentions of how jisung died, unedited

WORD COUNT — 5.2k+

TAG LIST — @uwu-yifan @peachjaem00 @heartyyjeno @guccichan

NOTE — i basically took the bloody mary ritual and made some shit up so enjoy :) this is also the fluffiest of all the fics from deviltales so yeah... this is also shorter than i intended but oh well.

DEVILTALES — MASTERLIST

quarantining alone had its perks. like being able to eat whatever you liked whenever, and never having to actually get dressed. as well as the fact that you could spend the day doing what you pleased, without anyone getting in your way.

and maybe that’s why you were going through with the slightly crazy and slightly stupid idea you had come up with whilst spending your fourth hour scrolling on tiktok. there was no one here to stop you from summoning a ghost and you wouldn’t be getting in anyone’s way. plus, you couldn’t help but think it would be nice to have someone other than your cat to talk to — even if that someone was some demon that probably wanted to possess your body.

“red and white candles, check. mirror, yep.” you mumble off the checklist to summon your very own supernatural being. your finger scrolling over the wiki how page on your phone screen one last time before powering it off and chucking it onto your bed.

next stop was the bathroom connected to your bedroom, where you had already lit the two candles, placing them at either corner of the sink. you had already turned off the lights and plugged the sink like instructed, all you had to do now was repeat the chant and prick your finger.

you clear your throat, debating what you would do if your attempts actually worked but deciding to instead remain unbothered. “yolo i guess.” you mutter, only to laugh at yourself when you wonder how many people’s last words were that.

you repeat the chant confidently, despite the fact that it was some random latin that you didn’t understand and most definitely mispronounced. after rerunning it through your head to make sure you had it, you pick up the pin you had placed next to the sink. the cool metal almost numbs the feeling of it piercing your index finger, yet still not enough to completely distract from the unpleasant pinch. a steady drip begins even before you remove the needle, landing against the white ceramic sink bowl and trailing it way down to the plug. one drop, two drops, three drops, you keep count until you hit 16 and a small pool of the metallic liquid has formed at the drain.

nothing happens for a while, and you wonder if it really was just make belief. and then when the red candle blows out, you try to convince yourself that it’s just a draft. you know, because a draft in a closed room with no open windows is so common.

you’re not scared per se, but the feeling of someone’s hot breath against the neck is slightly unsettling, the hairs on your back standing up just that bit straighter with every exhale. you know the next step is to look up and face the mirror, but a part wants to just turn on the lights and pretend nothing ever happened.

then again, you were never one to back down from something once you had begun it.

“fuck it.” you take a deep inhale, holding your breath as you direct your eyes from the bloodied sink towards the mirror.

there it is. the dark outline of a body— a person, you can’t see it’s face at first and wonder if it’s just your shadow. but then the features slowly become more clear, a wicked smile, one white eye, there’s blood dripping from the crown of his head, trailing down to his other, reddened eye, where a thick cut is sliced through. “boo.”

“jesus fucking christ.” you’re pretty sure your soul leaves your body at that very moment. definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost- definitely a ghost. but what fucking ghost says boo?

one hand is clutched to your chest, heart hammering against your ribcage, the other fumbling for the light switch. your widened eyes still trained on the mirror.

“you— you’re like actually a ghost?” you question, the light switch seemingly impossible to find despite your frantic attempts. the boy behind you seems caught off guard by the enquiry. “i mean—” he begins in the most unghostlike manner “yeah, i guess. i prefer haunted spirit of the underworld though.”

you finally hit the switch and the boy comes into full view, your body turning so you can get a better look at him. he’s— he’s surprisingly unthreatening.

sure, he has copious amounts of blood dripping from his being, and yeah, he looks like he could possess you with the snap of his fingers. but, he also has the roundest rosy cheeks, and the most adorably button nose. plus, he talks like most of your friends do — not the spooky victorian vibe you were picturing. “huh.” you lean back against the sink basin, arms folded across your chest, eyes narrowed. “hmph, you’re kind of cute.”

the ‘haunted spirit of the underworld’ looks a mixture of offended and confused at your statement, eyebrows furrowing with a exaggerated pout on his lips. “what?” he mirrors the action of your arms, “you’re not supposed to find me cute— you’re not supposed to.” he stomps his foot and you can’t help but lose it, giggling erupting from your chest.

“not my fault, dude.” you inform him casually once you’ve caught back your breath. sliding past him to get to the bathroom door and promptly opening it. he follows as you enter your bedroom, standing above you with the same expression as before as he watches you slump onto your bed.

“but no one ever finds me cute.” he just looks more confused now. “guess im the exception,” you shrug, “i mean how many people have summoned you anyways?”

“a lot, ok? and that’s not the point. you’re killing the atmosphere by being so chilled out and i’m not here for it.” the boy continues but you’re more focused on examining him. under the thick red liquid is a dishevelled, ink black mop of hair, a slightly tattered black shirt that is loose fitting to his figure and then a pair of ripped black jeans, although you can’t tell whether the rips are intentional or a result of his untimely death. “hello? are you even listening to me.” your eyes flick back up to his face, “yeah, yeah i’m listening— something about atmosphere or some shit.”

he lets out a huff and indicates for you to shuffle over, moving to sit on your bed, “whoa, pause, that blood won’t get on my sheets right? i just washed them.” he pauses in his tracks, looking at the white linen and then back at you. “i’m a ghost.” he states obviously. “good point.”

silence seems to settle in the room once he gets himself comfortable, his eyes examine your room whilst your eyes examine him. the pout on his face had vanished, only to be replaced by this almost saddened look. for some reason, you can’t help but feel like it’s your fault.

“you can try again.” you mutter awkwardly, offering up the best comforting smile you could. “try what?” “you can try scaring me again. we’ll go back to the bathroom, i’ll turn off the lights and you can jump out again.” his head tilts as you explain your suggestion and you swear you can see the apples of his cheeks redden just slightly. “i— i mean it won’t work will it? you already know i’m here.” he reasons back.

“ah, my dearest haunted spirits of the underworld, you clearly haven’t witnessed my superior acting skills before, lemme show you how to be scared.” you stand up confidently, sliding backwards to the bathroom, wiggling your eyebrows as you do so.

he once again follows, watching inquisitively as you relight the candles and turn off the lights, closing the bathroom door behind you, once you’re both fully in. “now, do your thing.” you offer him a quick smile and he nods hesitantly, settling himself in the darkest corner of the bathroom where you can’t even see him. “haunt me, baby!”

as you let out your last, more joking, words, the red candle is blown out once again, the white candle merely flickering and provided little to no light. your breath catches in your throat and any humour you have left to offer seems to dissipate out of your body.

there’s a tapping against the tiles to your right. then a scraping behind you. you can hear an unintelligible whispering echo throughout the small space but can’t make out what’s being said.

a cold draft hits the back of your neck, following the shiver that runs done your spine and leaves goosebumps on your arms.

your eyes are locked on the mirror in front of you. you don’t even have to act scared, you just are. your heart pounding harder and quicker in your chest with each passing second, your breaths unsteady and shallow.

one tap on your shoulder, then two, then what feels like someone tugging on strands of your hair. your body tenses at the touch, limbs stiffening.

and then, in the glow of the weak candle light, a face appears, a familiar face but one that given the circumstances, looks all the more terrifying. your eyes widen just as before, your features hardened in the tense moment.

“boo.” he repeats the same ‘scary’ word as before but in a low whisper. you try your best to remain calm but it’s at that moment that you lose it, your eyes squeezing shit and your hands flying to hit the lights. “nope, nope, nope.” you repeat in a chant, jumping on the spot as if that would make things any better.

“what? was i good?” the ghost sounds surprised, chirpy, and it’s enough to convince you that you can look up again. “were you good?” you respond bewildered, staring at the boy, “you were to fucking, i hated that.” you inform him, pacing to wards your bed. he trails behind, cheering to himself proudly.

“promise to never scare me like that again?” you hold out your pinky once he’s sat back next to you.

he pauses slightly but then nods, extending his pinky as well, hooking it around yours. “promise.”

♡ ♡ ♡

“wait, you never told me your name? and how old are you?” you and ghost boy are lying on your bed, having established that he’ll be ‘haunting’ you until dawn, leaving you with six hours to kill.

“jisung, eighteen.” he hums back, “you?”

“i’m y/n and the same age.” you roll onto your stomach and closer to jisung, giving him a wide, cheesy grin. his eyes narrow, as if to say what are you doing, but then widen when he feels your arm shove him off the bed. of course, it doesn’t work because he’s a ghost and can hover, but you still receive the same amount of entertainment.

“why can i touch you?” you continue your questioning after jisung settles on the chair next to your desk, “and why can you sit on things?”

he huffs out a breath but doesn’t really seemed bothered by the pestering, in fact he rather enjoys having someone to talk to. “you can touch me because you summoned me, and i can sit on things because i control what i go in and out of.” he explains as simply as possible, holding his hand out against your desk. “look, like this.” he rests his hand ontop of the surface as if it’s nothing. then he lifts it back up and lowers it again, however this time, it goes straight through the wood. “whoa.” you gasp, genuinely impressed. “cool, right—”

“can you go through me?” you burst brightly, and jisung looks mildly concerned. “i mean— i’ve never tried but—” “try it on me! try it on me! try it on me, please!” you extend the last your vowels desperately, grasping your hands hands together in a begging motion.

jisung rolls his eyes but agrees nonetheless, rising from seat and walking towards you with his hand extended. “ok, hold out your hand.” he instructs and you comply eagerly. your hand pointed outwards with your fingers spread slightly.

jisung rests his palm against yours, his skin is cold but soft. but then the feeling seems to vanish, and you watch wild eyed as jisung closes his fist, inside your hand. “what does it feel like?” he asks.

“like nothing.” you tilt your head, it wasn’t as exciting as you thought it’d be.

jisung then pulls out of your hand again, places his palm back against yours and threading his fingers with yours, materialising his flesh again. “aw, you’re holding my hand.” you tease sweetly, “cute.”

jisung scoffs, quickly pulling away at the mention of that horrid c-word.

“anyways then, what do you want to do?” you flop back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. jisung lifts off the ground, hovering above you and looking down to make eye contact. “what do you mean?”

“well, is there anything you didn’t get to do whilst you were alive that you wish you could? are there things you want to experience again?”

jisung smiles, it’s a sweet question. bittersweet though.

he had never really thought about the things he had missed out on, and he’d tried his hardest to not think about the things he actually missed. but something about you asking it, so innocently, so pure hearted and warm, makes him smile. makes him less sad about his untimely death.

“i don’t know.” the ghost drops beside you, fiddling with his fingers. “well let’s make a list then.” you match his smile and jisung swears this is the most he’s felt since becoming a ghost.

♡ ♡ ♡

half an hour passes before you finally have a list you can actually accomplish within the confines of your apartment.

first on the list is learning how to skateboard, your board that had been propped up in the corner of your room since the start of quarantine coming in extremely useful. “ok, put one foot on the deck,” you instruct calmly, hands already being grasped by jisung’s. the icy feeling if then still something you couldn’t entirely get over. “then the other.” he does as he’s told. stepping on carefully but surprisingly soon, he was a ghost though — nothing to lose.

it goes pretty smoothly, your body guiding his around the hard wood floor of your bedroom. there’s a few wobbles but nothing too severe. “fun?” you grin and he nods eagerly back, it was almost like having a puppy.

“now you try on your own.”

he stops smiling at that.

“but what if i fall off?”

“you’re a ghost.”

“oh yeah.”

jisung adjusts the board so that it’s facing down the longest stretch. he confidently settles himself on the deck. with one, slightly too strong of a push, he’s off across your room. he picks up speed quickly as he goes and it’s only near the end of his path when he realised that he’s fucked up.

whilst he jumps off, the board keeps flying, only stopping when it hits the wall — or rather goes through it.

you both stand, frozen in you positions, staring at where your plaster wall had been broken through. “you just put a hole in my wall.”

“that, i did.”

“ok enough skateboarding for you.”

you move on swiftly after that, finding out that jisung can still eat and deciding to order a selection of his favourite dishes: sushi, pizza and even pork belly.

whilst you wait for food, you decide to move onto the next on the list: alcohol.

“so you’re telling me you never drank alcohol, like any at all, before you dies?” jisung nods to your astounded question. “seriously?” you scoff, genuinely shocked. “the most i’ve had is a sip of mum’s wine and it was nasty so i just steered clear of alcohol as a whole.” he informs you and you’re pretty sure your jaw is touching the ground. “what about drinking games?” he shakes his head again. “that’s wild dude.” it seems like the only motion jisung can do is moving his head as nods awkwardly for what feels like the hundredth time.

you don’t pay much mind as you head to your kitchen, choosing a selection of alcohols and mixers and several glasses before making your way back to the bedroom with full arms. 

you settle yourself on the floor of your room, pouring out the various liquids into different glasses. “you don’t have to drink if you don’t want, you know that right?” you asks, swirling a glass of lemonade and lemon vodka in your, wanting to make sure that you weren’t forcing the ghost boy to do something he didn’t want to. “yeah, i know, but i do want to.” “ok, good.”you grin, hoding out the glass in your hand towards him.

he winces at just the smell which makes you giggle, the way his nose srunches being incredibly cute. he takes swig anyways however. its a quick one but you can tell by the range of emotions that spread across the boys face that he definitely got a taste. “good?” “i guess.” he twists his lips and you laugh even more.

“up next is gin.” you inform him, swirling another glass of alcohol and this time tonic.

you hand him the glass and he readily takes it, offering you a concerned look after taking his routine sniff as if to say ‘you really drink this?’. you smile encouragingly, despite thinking the drink you had just handed him was the worst of the lot. 

unfortunately for jisung, he takes you expression as a form of reassurance that the gin will be better than the last and takes a more confident sip than the prior drink. however, just as quickly as he’s sipping it, he’s spitting it back into the glass, this disgusted look on his face as he tries to hold back a gag. you let out a boisterous belly laugh at his reaction, much to jisung’s distaste.

“you like that?” he questions between gulps of water, watching you intently. his eyebrows arching wildly when you respond with a “rarely.” 

“so, wanna taste the next one?” you grin again, but jisung as trusting as before. “not really.” he pouts but you circle the drink around his face and he can’t really say no, he had never really had any self restraint anyways. “fuck it.” he hums before downing the mix of malibu and coke, a pleased look flashing across his face. “you like?” you nudge him into a response, “i do.” he smiles back, surprisingly happy. 

you appreciate his good taste in alcoholic drinks but decide to do only one more round before wrapping the session up. 

the last differs from the rest. the fact that it was dairy based and thicker eing the most obvious differences, as well as the fact that you put no mixer with it. “what’s this?” he holds the brown liquid up to the light as if that would help him decifer what he was about to sip on. “chocolate baileys.” you smile at him fondly, and he tilts his head at you. “don’t worry, you’ll love it.” you offer him some more genuine reassurance this time and his nods timidly, “bottoms up.” he raise his glass to his lips, taking a small swig. “wow.” he has another taste. “good?” “really good.”

food arrives shortly after and you waste no time stuffing yourself with the selection of delicious foods, making that jisung has plenty and enjoys the meal to its full.

♡ ♡ ♡

next on the agenda was catching up with all the music jisung had missed. and god, there was plenty.

you created a playlist of your favourites, a collection of ones he may know, and other new ones, setting it to full volume on your speaker — your neighbours could deal with the noise for a while.

when you begin to twirl around the room, busting out your favourite moves, jisung doesn’t seem too fond of joining in. unfortunately, no one told him how hard it would be to say no to you. the way you grip his hands and spin him on the spot with encouraging cheers make him laugh too much for him to then say no.

“there you go!” you grin ecstatically, watching jisung throw out some peculier but workable dance moves. your questionable singing matched with his much better singing when a song he knew came on.

your dance party goes on for what feels like half an hour but is really half an hour at most.

you spend half the time belly laughing while battling it out on who could dance better and although jisung won, it’s one of the best half an hours of your life. it almost makes you sad that, despite your exhaustion, you can’t continue with the dance party for longer.

you cross it off the list happily, looking for the next doable thing — watch avengers: endgame.

you were never much of an avengers fan but it turns out jisung was a huge one. and one thing he didn’t get to do before he passed was watch the last to the film, something he had been dying to do.

thankfully for him, you had already bought it after one extremely boring day in quarantine, figuring it would help you easily pass three hours of your time. only now, you were hating the length as it just meant less time to spend with jisung.

jisung actually having to agree to play truth or dare with you whilst watching otherwise you refused to turn it on.

it gets only fifteen minutes into the film and your prodding at the ghost’s arm. “psst,” you over exaggerate, “truth or dare?” you grin taking a scoop from the ice cream you had retrieved earlier.

jisung flickers his gaze between the screen and your pleading, hating how cute he finds you. “dare.” he whispers back.

if he hadn’t been so focused on the film, jisung would have seen the almost maniac like smile that spread across your lips. he then, would have been less shocked and disgusted when you dared him to drink a shot of soy sauce.

“you want me to do what?” the boy splutters, looking at you with mild concern. “what happens if i don’t?” one eyebrows quirks upwards. “then i choose a different date, as well as a truth.”

the manic smile returns.

“ok, fine.” you’re almost more shocked that he agrees to the questionable, sodium packed drink. “really?” you gasp. “yep, really.” he only confirms back.

you return to the bedroom a couple moments later with a glass bottle of dark brown liquid in one hand and a pair of shot glasses in the other. “you doing it with me?” jisung wonders once he sees the two small vessels, normally for alcohol.

“might as well.” you nod, questioning your own sanity as soon as you agree, “you only live once right?”

the joke is probably inappropriate given the circumstances, yet jisung chuckles nonetheless.

the humour dies down shortly after when the sodium liquid meets your tongue. your attempt short lived as you wait a whole five seconds to spit the shot back out. grabbing one of the glassses of water you had prepared and swirling it around your mouth.

jisung seems to struggle less than you, the alcohol most likely acting as a good warm up to him. however, you can tell by the expression his face twists into that he still definitely doesn’t enjoy it.

you fire more dares back and fourth after that, resulting in you snacking on a whole lemon and jisung ending up in an outfit of your choice — turns out ghosts can change clothes. and it continues until jisung finally chooses truth.

“so,” you clear your throat awkwardly, “well,” you continue to stall, twiddling with your thumbs. you open your mouth to speak again but jisung cuts you off, “you can ask me anything, like anything at all.” jisung nudges you encouragingly.

you sigh, looking at him with a pout, “ok then,” you don’t sound very enthusiastic but it’s more that you just feel bad, you couldn’t imagine that many people would enjoy reliving their last moments — assuming that’s what he was referencing, “my truth for you mr jisung is, how did you die?”

a silence settles between you and you’re too scared to even look up from where you were playing with the hem of your shirt.

“i— why would you ask me that?”

his words cut through the tension sharply. his tone serious.

“i— you- but you just said—” you’re beginning to panic, wondering if you had just hallucinated th last five minutes, but for all you knew, you could’ve been hallucinating all of this experience. “i’m sorry—”

“i’m fucking with you y/n, it’s fine, i was surprised you didn’t ask me earlier in fact.” jisung is evilly giggling just a bit too much for your liking, enough for you to attempt to wack his stomach. of course that fails though as he lets your arm just fly straight through him. “i hate you.”

“you don’t really,” he teases, reaching over to squish your cheeks as you glare at him. “it wasn’t interesting anyways, i was just hit by a car, boring really.”

“was it on purpose?” you pull the ice cream spoon between your lips.

“huh,” he takes another scoop himself, “i never thought about that.”

“well, did it hurt?”

“kind of,” he hums, looking like he’s genuinely trying to remember, “this bit hurt.” he motions towards his eye and for a second you almost forgot having a thick red gash across your eye wasn’t normal.

“hmph,” you lean towards him inspecting the cut, “that’s wild.”

“well, how do you wanna die?”

the way jisung asks so genuinely has a bubble of giggles brewing in your stomach, but you expression hardens when you realise he’s being serious. “i don’t know, i’ve never thought about it before. i die when i die, you know? i can’t stop it, so i might as well just enjoy what i have now and accept whatever death comes to me in the future, momento mori or some shit.”

you answer nonchalantly and jisung’s surprised by how calm you are about death.

he remembers the first time he experienced death. his grandpa passed away when he was eight and although he didn’t fully understand the concept of dying, he understood enough to be sad. and when his grandma passed away at ten, he was finally able to grasp the concept of it.

if he was being honest, death terrified him.

it was uncertain. and jisung didn’t like uncertainty. the unknown darkness that was death scared him and he even at eighteen, he hadn’t fully accepted it.

but hey, he was a ghost now, not much he could do to change his death anymore.

♡ ♡ ♡

the film ends sooner than you had expected and there’s not long left before jisung will leave. it’s weird, you didn’t think you could get so attached to someone so quickly, but then you summoned jisung and you both just clicked.

you had both decided that for the last moments you’d sit out on the balcony of your apartment, let jisung jisung feel the warmth of the sun as it filtered through the clouds.

“i think you’re my favourite ghost.”

“you’ve met other ghosts?” jisung quirks up his eyebrows, tilting his head towards you.

“nope, but i imagine you’re the best.” you continue confidently, watching as pastel blues and pinks fade into the sky.

he smiles at that.

he thinks you’re the best human he’s ever met, too.

you attempt to pass you the time by talking about life before death and your life after he goes but all conversation simmers down into a silence. it’s not uncomfortable, more just this solemn quiet. jisung didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t really have a choice — being a ghost really sucked sometimes, that was for sure.

“you know, there’s something else i kinda want to do before i go.” jisung hums, drawing your attention to his face. “what?” you question innocently which in itself makes the ghost smile. 

“well,” he begins, suddenly nervous and blushing under your gaze, “when i was alive,” you nod, encouraging him to continue, “i never got to have a proper first kiss.” he quietens at the end slightly but what he’s saying is still clear as day.

“oh.”

you watch him shift in his seat, waving his hand in and out of the arm rest anxiously. “mr haunted spirit of the underworld, are you asking if you can kiss me?” you can’t help but tease the red cheeked boy, swirling your finger on your lap.

“i mean— you don’t—”

“i’d love for you to, jisung.”

your grin is suddenly matched on the boy’s face, a genuine smile that makes your heart pump even faster and this bittersweet feeling to settle in your stomach.

you stand up from your seat and he does the same, intertwining his fingers with yours and shuffling closer towards you. his gaze lingers on your lips for a moment before shifting towards your eyes. the way your irises glow in the morning sunlight something he wishes he could witness everyday. the way your cheek feels against the delicate touch of his fingertips, something he wishes he could experience everyday. “thank you.”

“for what?”

“for making me feel alive for the first time in all my eighteen years, dead and alive.” he confesses barely above a whisper, your hand shifting to cup the back of his neck.

he tilts forward, resting his forehead against yours, letting out a soft breath before closing gap completely.

his lips are plush, a soft velvet against yours. this heavenly feeling that makes you wonder whether he’s more of an angel than a ghost. the feeling has jolts of electricity sparking through every nerve of your body and you wonder if he feels it too. you do your best to savour each second of the kiss, letting yourself indulge in the moment.

hoping to imprint it in your memory for ever.

when you pull back, you’re met with nothing but the rays of sun indicating that dawn had come and jisung had gone.

you’re not sure what comes over you but there’s a gentle trickle of tears that escape your eyes. you were happy to have gotten to know him while you could, but it hurt knowing that you couldn’t do more.

you settle back in your chair after the realisation comes to you, dwelling over the questions you didn’t ask him. the most important being whether he’ll ever be able to come back.

you hoped he would.

and if not, you found comfort at least in knowing that he had still left his mark. from the hole now in your wall to the many memories you had to look back on.

even though you had never been one to believe in soulmates, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering if that’s what you and jisung were. even if you roamed in different worlds, you couldn’t help but think you were made for each other. only hoping that in your next life you would finally get to be together.

#neothestars #jisung fluff #jisung angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jisung #nct dream #nct #park jisung #park jisung fluff #deviltales #nct dream smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #jisung smut #jisung oneshots #jisung fic #mark #jaemin #jeno #renjun #haechan #chenle

[creativeashproductions]

When Fate Intervenes // Luke Patterson

IN WHICH: Fate intervenes with a trio of musicians on the night that was supposed to be legendary. Fate puts the reader with a special ability that may or may not be able to save them. Fate puts a clairvoyant, an accidentally upsized pizza and thirteen year old oddly obsessed with a rock band.

Warnings: Swearing, food poison, death, and fluff

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Time to get rid of some fic ideas from my TOO LONG of a list. It’s Julie fault, she keeps encouraging each fic idea I tell her.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The Orpheum, 1995

The line up comprised of countless girls wearing homemade band shirts for the new band performing. Your little sister, at thirteen years old, had pleaded for weeks if not three months to go watch it. It was odd since she was more in the pop scene than the rock music. Your parents would never let her go to the rock show at night, so it was you or no show. It took a promise of doing your chores for an entire month and her dessert for two months. That was why you stood beside Harper among the fangirls while you clicked through the camera you’d saved up for years.

“I’m so excited.” Harper buzzed dancing on your feet as the time on her watch dwindled down more and more.

Your eyes flitted from the screen to the ball of energy you called your little sister, “I can tell. Which one do you have a crush on?”

“Reggie. He’s the bassist and so fucking-sorry freaking cool.” Harper gushed, “A good portion of the fans are obsessed with the lead singer Luke. Bobby is the rhythm guitarist, and he’s a ladies man, but he’s sweet about it.”

“And you’d know that how?” You questioned letting go of the camera around your neck. Your e/c eyes meeting her matching pair of irises; well yours were a bit more vibrant.

“I just know.” Harper retorted before beaming as she roughly poked the pin she’d made herself, “This represents all of them. Red for Reggie’s plaid shirt he always has, orange for Bobby’s love of oranges, yellow for Luke’s energy and pink for Alex because he loves the colour!”

The pin had their band design with Sunset Curve on it with the words outlined with a sunset made up of red, orange, yellow and pink just as Harper had pointed out. By far, it was her best work, but that was expected from an art student at Los Feliz High School. An art school for artists and performers. You attended for photography and creative writing just as Harper attended for art.

“That might be your best work Harps.” You complimented your little sister who shivered in the cool night breeze. You didn’t even think about tugging off your warm jacket to place on her shoulders.

You’d rather be cold than your little sister no matter how much you fought with each other, the Y/L/N siblings had each other’s backs no matter what.

“Thanks.” Harper murmured, leaning closer, “So do I meet Reggie?”

Your eyes widened slightly at her subtle goading to a part of your life was cinematic. It was a piece of you that very few people knew about, only your parents and Harper. Like most of the women in your paternal lineage, you carried the ability to foresee events in the future. A clairvoyant.

“Harper!” You scolded the young teenager who blatantly was just over-excited to see the band she’d been talking about constantly.

Harper’s cheeks turned a cherry blossom pink under the crappy lighting from the marquee sign. Even in the light, you noticed the changes in her face as she matured into a young woman, her cheeks while still full didn’t have that baby cheek look now. You saw a stubborn zit that you could see under the makeup that didn’t entirely match her skin tone. It caused an ache in your heart to know that soon she’d have the experience of heartbreak.

“Sorry!”

“You told me these guys are my age. Need I remind you that you are thirteen? If anyone older than thirteen makes an advance I’ll put my softball skills to the test.” You sternly informed the shorter girl with the pout that screamed rebellion, “Just be a kid Harps.”

“Like you said Y/N, I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid anymore.” Harper dropped the attitude to adopt a more mature soft tone. You could see the tinge of sadness in her eyes at losing the part of life where it was easy.

“I know. I can wish you’ll stay that annoying little kindergartener that stole my clothing.” You chuckled, “You’ll always be the Stephanie to my DJ.”

The two Y/L/N siblings momentarily glanced around before hugging as quickly as possible, they still had reputations to uphold. Had you been actually paying attention, you and Harper would have noticed the commotion from the people behind you.

As you and Harper had the sweet moment, the very band performing had raced out the alley into the street. What brought you back to the surroundings was the pizza boy delivering the pizza box to you. 

“Wait, we ordered a small!” You exclaimed finding the boy holding an extra-large pizza. You only received a shrug in response with the right change given back. 

Two things happened with this food mistake, you didn’t have to pay more than what you actually ordered, and you still got the larger pizza. However, the Orpheum didn’t allow outside food, meaning you’d have to force-feed yourself all the pizza or trash more than half. 

“We could shar-” Harper was cut off as a blinding white light became your focal point. Harper knew what was happening by the specific groan coming from your lips.

A nauseating scent of cheap meat, gas and chemicals flooded your sense of smell in the dingy alleyway. It was nighttime with a few people in the general vicinity with a dilapidated table and mismatched chairs on the walls’ edge. A poorly made sign with Sam & Ella’s and going by the vendor selling the hot dogs the name fit. Sam & Ella sounded like salmonella.

From a distance, you couldn’t quite hear the conversation between three male teens, but you had a bad feeling. They all migrated to a ratty couch that had been better days, a rat wouldn’t even crawl on it you swore.

The first boy had slicked back hair with rosy cheeks you dubbed innocent and cute that juxtapositioned his rocker attire. He had polished black leather shoes, pleather if his choice of food was an indication, a leather jacket and a red plaid shirt around his waist. His attention focused on the two guys beside him. In the middle, the boy had the blue hood of his sweater pulled over his messy brown hair as if hiding. Nothing stood out about him, and it seemed like that was intentional. On the other side, the last one was the tallest with his blonde hair hidden by the backwards black hat. A distressed dark grey jean jacket open to proudly display his pink hoodie. Each one wearing black pants and adorning rings.

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” The middle boy joyfully spoke head in the clouds instead of the questionable surroundings. He arguably had the loveliest smile you had ever seen, and his friends had nice smiles at that as well.

Yet even if this hadn’t taken place, however, it still felt like you were intruding on something incredibly private, “Why am I being shown this?”

Your question went unsurprisingly unanswered.

“I can’t even count how many bands have played here! And then ended up being huge!” He happily sunk into the back of the couch, thinking of all the bands he had CDs to in his room, “We’re gonna be legends!”

“Oh.” You breathed as you caught a whiff from the boys that quickly gave you the understanding of why you saw this. You could only smell what you had dubbed as death, the scent unchanging from the first time you’d encountered it.

The death stench accompanied a clairvoyant vision if the object of your vision was sick or about to die. The first time you encountered, it was a vision of two cars colliding, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the milder stench. The next morning school was cancelled after a teacher died in a car accident on the way to work.

“Eat up, boys. ’Cause after tonight, everything changes.” The only vocal one continued with his two friends silently listening. The trio toasted their food together.

“No!” You exclaimed as each boy took a bite. You held your breath, hoping that the inevitable in the vision wouldn’t occur.

Unfortunately, it was right away the warning appeared. The blonde one the most affected, “That’s a new flavour.”

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The leather jacket guy proudly spoke, the least one concerned. 

Even the guy in the middle was concerned but ultimately continued eating.

“Stop it!” You shouted, but it was no use. As with every vision, you had the potential to stop it from coming true, but while in the vision, you couldn’t interact with the people or surrounding. No matter how much you wanted to slam the food out of their hands.

But one thing sends shivers down your spine. The one in the middle made direct eye contact with you. Something that had never happened before nor to any previous clairvoyants. He kept eye contact as he slowly grew sicker and sicker.

The three boys had no chance as the ambulance rushed to the alleyway to save them. The paramedics weren’t as quick as the vendors who’d already packed and fled to protect their own hides.

You watched as the paramedics did everything in their power to save the young teenagers with everything possible. Just like Luke sang in their last song, the boys felt the darker version of an electric hammer to the heart. The clocks freezing in place as they each took their last breathe in the oddest of deaths. You saw the blonde guy die painfully first before followed by the formerly hooded one, the terrified cries of the last one haunting your phantom ears.

How did three healthy teenagers die on the same night of the exact nature within minutes of each other without one surviving? Maybe it had something to do with the hot dogs chilling in the liquid that was a cesspool of bacteria compounded with tained condiments from battery acid.

You roughly came out of the vision shaking and pale-faced frantically scanning the surroundings. Harper had a grip on the extra large pizza box while the other tightly held yours to ground you in the present.

“Are you okay?” Harper softly questioned with the panic hidden inside her body. Harper knew that this vision had been one of the bad ones. The haunted look in your eyes hinting towards death in the near future.

“We need to go.” You frantically replied, grabbing the pizza that would hopefully have a hand in saving three hopeful teens.

Your gym teacher would be proud of the distance diminished and speed you kept towards the area that would further shatter you. Foreseeing death and sometimes unable to stop it always had a nasty impact on you. 

“Where are we going?” Harper yelled, “We’ll miss the doors opening!”

“We’ll miss them if we don’t hurry up!” You shouted back at the disgruntled little sister but at the moment that didn’t matter. 

What mattered was three hungry teenagers about to gorge themselves on death dogs if you didn’t make it in time. It appeared for the first time you’d actually manage to stop the deaths, unlike the previous three times. 

“-tonight. Everything changes.” The chill-inducing rasp helped navigate you to the disgusting couch. Your cold hand slammed the hotdog from the blonde’s hand, the shocked reaction halting the other two.

“Don’t...eat...it.” You heaved bending over at the waist to catch your breath. Wheezing sounded from your little sister as the running and seeing her favourite band up close settled.

“Excuse me! I paid for that hotdog!”

“You’d be buying yourself death literally. Your dreams of playing the Orpheum would be extinct.” You sighed, chugging the water from the pocket of Harper’s backpack for a few seconds before the owner took it back.

“Okay, look I don’t know how you found us but-”

“You don’t have to believe me ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t have but don’t jeopardize your dreams. Look my little sister wanted to see your show so I brought her and we ordered a pizza. They fucked up the order by giving us an extra-large pizza. We’ll barely eat a quarter of it, and the venue is strict on the rules.” You rambled using tour hands to elaborate the story before Harper roughly elbowed your ribs, “Ow!”

“Oops.” Harper faked a sugar-sweet smile for your benefit as the interaction with the three musicians slowly dove into embarrassment.

“-sorry. You’d be doing us a favour by not wasting our money and food. What do you say?” You hesitantly asked the trio who didn’t speak vocally; their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Reggie sighed as he begrudgingly dropped his hotdog in the bin near the couch, “Pizza outranks street dogs even if the dogs are heaven and to die for.”

“Literally.” You grumbled forcefully pushing the obscenely large pizza box into the middle one’s stomach, “I’m Y/N, this is my little sister Harper.”

“Hi.” Harper shyly waved with cheeks turning a dust pink concealed by the dark of the alleyway. The boys’ lips all quirked at the sudden contrast from the confident sister slamming her elbow in you to the bashful teen.

“I’m Luke. This is Reggie and Alex.” The hooded one, Luke, introduced his bandmates as best he could with his hands occupied by the pizza box.

Without the threat of death by the hot dog, you actually took the time to look at Luke with appraising eyes. His eyes were like oceans of blues, greens and even a brown that both exhilarated you; the desire of studying them not surprising. His smile outshone the sun on the hottest day in August.

“Nice to meet you.” You informed the trio with a beaming smile that matched your starstruck little sister. The interaction gave you the opportunity for immense and untiring future teasing on the teen that daydreamed of the bassist. 

You had to admit the trio were incredibly attractive.

“Come back to the dressing room. We can eat there out of the cold.” Alex courteously invited the two formerly strangers. His blues sharing his pure intentions to repay you for saving their lives and offering pizza. 

“Of course.” Harper nodded her head with her eyes barely meeting the ones of the boys. The shell was broken when Reggie piped up.

“That’s a really cool pin! Where’d you find it?”

Gated Community, Los Angeles, 2002

An off-tune humming filled the modestly sized home in the suburbs of Los Angeles, California with the sound of water splashing. Doing the dishes was a mindless chore that typically didn’t bother you, but the pain in your lower back protested. You’d have used the dishwasher, but the thing was perpetually breaking down. Didn’t seen essential to replace when washing dishes by hand was just as productive.

Or it was when you didn’t have the extra weight in your midsection, a symbol of your love with your husband. In fact, you would have avoided doing dishes if you hadn’t just used the last clean plate and glass at breakfast plus Luke hadn’t been home in the previous week.

Sunset Curve had gone on a press tour for the upcoming album and tour planned for next year.

“Oof.” You moaned as the little rascal once more hit your bladder, “Are you breaking electric guitars in there?”

“Not a soccer player?”

“With you as their father? Not likely.” You snorted as the sudden appearance of Luke became clear. You hadn’t been expecting him, “I missed you. We missed you.”

As had it since you first told him Luke’s warm hand came to rest on the front of your swollen belly. In a short month, you’d be cradling the newest member of the Patterson family with Luke singing the lullaby he solely made for baby P.

“Still haven’t given in?” The lead guitarist teased you with a beaming smile splitting his face, “Go sit down. I’ll finish the dishes.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. 

“I’m not abusing my clairvoyance to foresee our child’s gender, name and appearance.” You pointed one finger in his direction, “I refused Bobby’s pleading to see which models he would bed. The only time I did something like that was to reassure Alex that he would fall in love with a lovely guy.”

Luke’s heart burst with sheer adoration at how easily you had sunk into the friendship with the band after that one night. A night that had given birth to a friendship that slowly evolved into a romance and marriage. To this day, the group got together as much as possible.

“I love you.” Luke chuckled, “Even-”

“-if I came into your life like a completely crazy person?”

“We’re all a little crazy.”

Your house surely would be when a little tornado with Luke’s energy took over the home you’d made with Luke. The very home you would have more children and grow old together until soon you held your grandkids on your laps.

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