#because he can and will find a way to murder you
Text
LIAR, LIAR! [TEASER]
PAIRING — kim mingyu x reader
WORD COUNT — 1.4k
RELEASE DATE — TBA, will probably take a while!
SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.
TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, dark comedy if u ask me, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst
♪ aquartos - crystal city,, verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex
NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. enjoy :D
i. TWO WEEKS SINCE THE MURDER
the interrogation room is unnecessarily bright, the noise of the water dispenser in the corner and the flickering led light above you running through your ears. the chair you’re seated on is uncomfortable, though it’s nothing compared to the tension you feel as the man in front of you treats you like you’re guilty of something.
“on september 2nd, sometime around six o’clock, your father reportedly got unwell, so he left his office early, choosing to do the rest of his paperwork at home. according to the information we got from the gps tracker in his car, he went straight home, took no detours. he arrived at your family estate thirty minutes later. then at eight o’clock, the police received a call from you, saying your father’s hung himself.”
you stare at the the inspector whose name you did not bother remembering before waving with your hand. “i’m aware. i’ve heard the recap of events many times at this point. this isn’t the first time i’m being interrogated, surprisingly enough.”
with a puzzled look, he raises his brow at you. “you don’t think you should be a suspect?”
“no, i don’t.”
“at the time of the incident, you were home, as well as two members of the staff. since the staff were on their dinner break and you were apparently in your room, it’s hard to say what happened, since there were no witnesses.”
“do you mind me asking why you think it’s murder and not just a suicide?”
he’s intrigued by the way you discuss the topic so casually. “your father was an important man. wouldn’t you want to know who killed him if that is the case?”
“sure. i’d thank them.” you smile at him, the hatred for your father shining through. “believe me, inspector — my father was a miserable man who surrounded himself with other miserable people. i wasn’t there by choice.”
“did he treat you badly, then?” he continues, trying to pry any information out of you.
you can only sigh. “i was his daughter by blood only. that’s all.”
with your demeanor softening into something sadder, the inspector’s tone changes into something different. “aside from you, and the staff, of course, we do have another suspect who we think could have something to do with your father’s death.”
that sparks your interest. “who?”
the inspector grabs his small pile of documents to pull a printed photo out of it, putting it before you. you visibly frown, because the person on the photo is someone you’re unfortunately awfully familiar with.
“kim mingyu is a suspect? seriously?” you ask, completely in shock. ironically, he’s the last person you’d suspect in a scenario like the one you currently find yourself in.
“what can you tell me about him?”
“he’s a year younger than me. we went to the same high school, same university, have some of the same friends. though all of that is relatively common in our social circle.”
“anything else?”
keeping the insults to yourself for now, you press your lips together. “our parents are good friends. well, were, now that my father’s gone. mingyu and i hate eachother to the bone, though.”
“any particular reason why?”
“i’m not sure where it started… there’s just something off about him. it’s always been there. he’s—beyond arrogant. always showing off his looks, his wealth, his charm, his intelligence. everything. he insults me, i insult him. we simply don’t get along, never have. nothing you haven’t seen before, i’m sure.”
the inspector raises his brow. “i think you may have left something out.”
“such as?”
his hand moves into the blue folder sitting on the table, taking another photo out of it, holding it up before you. “your father was often spotted with him. at events, business meetings — you name it. matter of fact, your father seemed to be accompanied by kim mingyu more than anyone else. which is interesting, considering you are his only child.”
your gaze turns sour, voice softer yet more hateful than before. “don’t tell me this is the reason i’m a suspect.”
“let’s just say it doesn’t make you look good.”
“you really believe i murdered my own father in cold blood because he cared more about kim mingyu than he ever did about me? that’s pathetic and ridiculous.”
“you wouldn’t be the first. it’s a plausible story.”
scoffing at the accusation, you shake your head. “we’re done here. the moment you have an actual lead, i’ll talk, but not like this. i’m still here grieving and you’re accusing me of being the culprit.” you get up in anger, taking your bag with you before slamming the door shut, not bothering to listen to what the man is trying to tell you to make you stay.
this whole shit-train started two weeks ago. your father was found dead in your childhood home, hung by a rope around his neck. instead of calling it a death by suicide, the police apparently have enough reason to suspect it was a homicide.
you’ve been questioned several times in the past few weeks, but there’s been a gradual shift in the behavior of the inspector and his handimen — they’re treating you like a suspect now.
which you are, for whatever reason. they have yet to come up with any actual evidence.
your contact in the police force mentioned to you that you’re not just any suspect — you’re one of the two main suspects.
and that is unsettling, especially when you discovered who else is.
as you go down the hall, you suddenly lock eyes with kim mingyu himself, who’s leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his trousers. a few strands of hair hover by his cheeks, framing his strong features.
“what the fuck are you doing here?” you ask in a rather hostile manner, the scowl on your face deepening.
his lips part before he starts explaining. “they wanted to talk to me. again.”
“haven’t you heard the rumors, gyu?” you mockingly use the nickname, taking a step closer to him, “they’re saying there’s a possibility you killed him.”
your arch-nemesis looks back at you with a furrowed brow. “that’s ridiculous.”
“is it? you were always with him… it’s perhaps the only thing that makes sense in all of this.”
he seems offended you’d even insinuate something like that. “it’s really the other way around, though. you’re the one who hated him. i had nothing against the man.”
it’s true that you and your father didn’t exactly get along, especially the past few years, to put it lightly. you always considered him to be greedy, cold and unforgiving, and you certainly didn’t cry the moment they told you he had passed away.
“no, we all know how much you liked him,” you hardly make an effort to hide your disdain, “but they must not believe that, considering you’re just as much of a suspect as i am.”
he clenches his jaw. “i’m not guilty.”
“neither am i.”
it’s quiet for a moment as you’re both unsure of what to say next, a rarity between you.
a few years ago, your father mentioned you and mingyu could make a good pair. you proceeded to laugh in his face.
mingyu is a constant reminder of what you could be, and that’s the last thing you need in your life.
“if i find out you’re somehow involved in this—”
instead of immediately refuting the statement, he narrows his eyes at you. “then what?”
you realize you need to be careful with your words here — you can’t throw around threats to kill people as the top suspect in a murder investigation. “i’ll make sure you pay for it. they might buy your little golden-boy act, but i sure as shit don’t. i never have.”
a smirk subtly tugs at his lips as he leans more down, eyes flicking lower before they meet yours again. “i’d be careful with my words if i were you,” he firmly tells you, his lashes fluttering, “there’s always someone watching.”
only now do you take notice of how close you’re standing to him, and you look behind you, seeing the inspector that just interrogated you observing you and mingyu from a distance.
so you push yourself away from him, giving him a last glare before walking away.
mingyu’s eyes remain on you until you move past the corner. he only moves from his spot once you’re gone from his field of view, greeting the inspector with a kind smile.
if you’d like to be tagged in this once it’s released, leave a comment! <3
® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.
#kim mingyu x reader#mingyu x reader#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen fanfic#seventeen smut#kim mingyu#svt smut#svt fanfic#svt imagines#svt angst#mingyu smut#mingyu angst#svt oneshot#svt ff#svt fic#svthub#seventeen oneshot#svt#seventeen
241 notes
·
View notes
Text
FIRST DATE, KINDA NERVOUS
part 2 of the golden quartet
art donaldson x reader, slight tashi duncan x reader, slight patrick zweig x reader
summary: the story of your first kiss with art donaldson in a hotel room, and your first date in a diner. cute, fluffy, healthy, a tiny bit suggestive but not really. group polyamory dynamics hinted at. (play: so high school by taylor swift). wc: 3.5k
“What do you think?”
You shrugged. “They’re cute, they seem nice, and your backhand is like, a million times stronger than theirs, so I reckon you could take them in a fight.”
“What, you wouldn’t help?”
“Please. I’m too weak for that,” you said, shaking your wrist limply in Tashi’s face.
She rolled her eyes at you and pushed it out of the way. “Whatever, fine. We’re going.”
She ran her fingers through her hair. After showering, the straight hair from the party had disappeared, giving way to her natural waves. You always thought she looked prettier this way. Softer, somehow.
“Yay,” you said simply. “But just remember that my parents placed my safety and care in your hands, so if we get, like, murdered or something—”
“Oh, shut up,” Tashi groaned, a laugh bubbling out of her mouth, “you were just endorsing them.”
“Yeah, well. I’m indecisive.”
The smile that slowly spread across Tashi’s face told you all you needed to know. Ten seconds later you had grabbed and shrugged on your jacket and the two of you were climbing your way out of her bedroom window.
Now, you’re sitting on the floor of a hotel room, Tashi on your left and Art on your right, Patrick laying comfortably across from you, propped up by his elbows.
The beer in your hand is pretty shitty, which is a fact you find odd considering you can only assume it was either stolen from one of their parents, or paid for using a bribe, and in both of those cases, wouldn’t the beer be better?
But maybe that’s not what you should be focusing on right now, you think, as Patrick leans forwards to take it from your hand. His fingers brush yours as the can crosses over. For the last hour or so, the four of you have gone through eleven cans of beer, each consumed one at a time, being passed around like a bong.
Your eyes linger on the way Patrick’s mouth engulfs the opening of the can, right where yours had just been, and the way he passes it right to Tashi, who does the same as she takes a sip. The flush of heat in your face and belly are hard to ignore, and you’re not too sure how much of it can be attributed to the alcohol.
There’s a stutter in your chest as Art nudges you with his elbow. “So what are you planning on majoring in?”
His cheeks and ears also look flushed, but you think that might just be a consequence of the story Patrick told earlier. It was a sweet story; you assured the boy next to you of that when he’d buried his face in his hands, but he still seemed a little perturbed.
It was a sweet story though, you muse. Tashi said that they seemed like brothers, but you thought they seemed like they were an old married couple.
You’re brought back out of your thoughts as Tashi hands you the beer. “Oh, um. I’m not too set on anything yet, but I think maybe journalism.”
Patrick lets out a whistle. “What, not physiotherapy or sports medicine?”
You shrug, and before you can stop yourself, you say, “Just because I was a tennis player doesn’t mean it’s my whole personality.”
Immediately, you wince. Wrong place, wrong time. You steal a quick glance at Tashi, but she seems unaffected. Right. It’s Tashi. The last thing she feels is insecure. She simply looks at you.
But for good measure, you add, “I mean, I can still do sports news, or something.”
Against the better judgement of your burning stomach and your sluggish thoughts, you take another swig and then pass the can to Art.
“Journalism suits you,” he comments quietly as he takes it. You give him a small smile. He takes a small sip of the beer, and you can’t help but watch the way his Adam’s apple shifts when he swallows.
“I need some ice,” announces Tashi. She rises from her position on the floor.
Patrick wastes no time in scrambling up too. “I’ll come with!”
Tashi gives you a look like she’s exasperated, but you know better from the way she waits for Patrick to grab his key and open the door for her. She doesn’t look back as she walks out, but Patrick calls out a teasing, “See you guys later,” before the door closes fully.
When you turn your head towards Art, you see that he’s looking right at you.
“You sure do that a lot,” you mumble.
He smiles in a way that seems endeared and a little confused. “What?”
“Stare.”
“Sorry, I just—”
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s nice. I- I, uh.” Your thoughts are racing, everywhere and nowhere all at once, as you struggle to find the words. The way Art looks at you sends a buzz of something in your abdomen, and your mind becomes all the more scrambled. “I need to stand up.”
You stand quickly, maybe too quickly, and immediately stumble.
“Whoa, you okay?” Art’s quick to jump to his feet. His hands find their place on either side of your waist to steady you. Now you really can’t focus.
“Yeah,” you hear yourself say, “I think I should sit down instead.”
You’re very aware of the fact that his hand stays on your waist as you bumble over to the edge of the bed and take a seat.
There’s a pang of disappointment when his hand leaves your waist, and another when he stands unsurely in front of you. You pat the spot next to you.
“Sit. Please.”
He complies. Perched on the edge of the bed, hands in his lap, he’s much closer than when you were sitting on the floor together. You fiddle with your hands and steal glances at him every now and then.
“I wanted to ask you,” Art breaks the silence, “do you ever miss it?”
You don’t need to ask what he means by ‘it.’
There’s a moment where you gaze off, eyes wandering towards the door, before they return to the boy next to you and you shake your head.
“I don’t, not really.” You bite the inside of your cheek in thought. “It was fun for a while, and I liked being good at something, but I think I just fell out of love with it after a while. Like my whole life became just tennis, and thinking about a future in tennis. If I’m being honest, the injury was like a miracle to me.”
Art looks thoughtful at that. “What’s so wrong with a life of tennis?”
“Well. I mean, nothing, I guess. It just took a lot more time and effort than I would’ve liked. And there’s all the things I had to give up for it.”
He looks at you like he’s waiting for you to continue, so you do. “Cheeseburgers, sleeping in. Love.”
The bed dips closer to you as he shuffles a little closer. It prompts you to look back up at him.
The curls on his forehead hang low, just over his eyes. His hand rests just next to your thigh, and he rests his weight on it to lean just a bit closer. “You don’t think you can be in love and play tennis at the same time?”
Art’s presence has a magnetic effect on you. There’s a gravitational pull that has you angling your body towards him and moving ever so slightly closer to him.
“I don’t know. Do you?”
His eyes dart down to your lips. It’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards as you do the same. You can almost feel the warmth of his exhale as your faces draw closer and closer.
“Can I?” Art whispers.
“Please,” you respond.
His hand comes off the bed to rest on your cheek, and then he’s kissing you. It’s soft, gentle, but there’s an urgency in the way his tongue teases the entrance of your lips, and the way he moves even closer towards you, almost as if he’s chasing you.
Your hands find themselves at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His other hand moves to rest on your waist. Then your thigh. You let out a hum as your stomach does a little leap. Then, he pulls away for a fraction of a second to take you in, before his lips are on yours again. It’s electric, when he tilts his head slightly to the other side, when the hand on your cheek slides down to your jaw to bring you closer, when you hear a low groan in the base of his throat as his hand slides to the inner part of your thigh.
Then you hear the key at the door, and you both jump apart.
Tashi has a cup of ice water in her hand when she surveys the scene in front of her.
Your bodies are still angled suspiciously towards each other and your hands both rest awkwardly in your laps. Little is left to the imagination. You can still feel the butterflies in your stomach and the racing of your heart when Patrick raises his eyebrows at the two of you, a grin on his face.
“So,” he begins, “what have you guys been up to?”
Art and you speak at the same time. “Oh, you know, nothing much.” “Just chilling.”
Tashi’s face is thoughtful, as she looks at you and her lips quirk up in a smile. She nods her head to the door behind her. “Well, it’s late. We should go.”
Your eyes dart back and forth between the three people in the room. Slowly, you stand, giving Art an awkward kind of smile as you brush past him.
“Wait,” Patrick exclaims, “can I get your phone number?”
She shrugs back at him, holding the door open. “Play some real tennis tomorrow, and then I’ll give you my number.”
“So like, if I win?”
“You don’t have to win to play well.”
You’re not sure where this leaves you and Art in the mix, but Tashi is looking at you expectantly from the doorway, and you fear you don’t have the time to decide now. With an apologetic look and a wave, you mutter, “See you guys,” and then you’re out the door.
In the end, Patrick does win. He gives a flourishing bow as Tashi shrugs and applauds him. She turns to whisper something in your ear, but the words make no contact with your thoughts. As Art looks dejectedly at his racket, then at his best friend across the court, you stand abruptly. Tashi looks at you, bewildered.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait, I was—”
Whatever her next words are, they die in her throat as she sighs and watches you thread your way through the stands and go down the stairs to the side of the court.
“Hey!” you call out. Art’s head perks up and his eyes search for the source of the sound until they land on you. He jogs to meet you.
“Hi.”
“Um,” you say, feeling suddenly like your foot has been shoved into your mouth, “you did really well.”
Art looks at you deadpan, but a smile starts to show in his eyes. “I lost.”
“Still, you were really good.” Your eyes glue themselves to the floor as you start to regret coming over so hastily without planning what to say.
“Well, thanks. Really. It means a lot coming from you.” Looking back up, you see him scratching the back of his head nervously. It’s an odd look, considering he’s also drenched in sweat, and his glistening skin makes him look even more nervous than he is. “Look, uh. I know we didn’t make a deal or anything, but do you think I could get your number?”
Maybe this wasn’t such a mistake. “Yeah, I think I could make that happen.”
SIX WEEKS LATER.
God, you’re stressed right now. The hem of your top has fallen victim to your incessant fiddling as you tug at it, scrunch it up, release it and repeat.
“You’re acting like it’s your first date ever,” Tashi says, rolling her eyes. There’s a smile playing at her lips that tells you she isn’t trying to be as mean as she sounds.
“He’s cute, okay? I’m nervous.”
Tashi comes up behind you and you meet her eyes in the mirror. A shiver runs down your spine as she tugs at the collar of your jacket, knuckles brushing your neck in the process.
“You should take this off.”
“What? Why?” You stare at her reflection. “I know it’s still summer, but it’s nighttime, so like…” Her deadpan expression has you trailing off. “What?”
“You can wear his jacket instead.”
There’s a hollow silence as your mouth forms an ‘o’. Your fingers move to tug at the sleeves of the jacket, gaze averted from hers for a moment.
“You think he’ll offer?”
Another eye roll. “The guy’s like, obsessed with you. Of course he’ll offer. Doesn’t hurt to throw in a little shiver either.”
“What if he’s not wearing a jacket?”
“Oh, he’s wearing a jacket.” She waves her cell phone in your face. “Patrick texted me an update.”
You grin and shrug off the jacket as you turn to face her. “Who knew Tashi Duncan was such a sucker for clichés?”
“I’m just trying to make sure your date goes well,” Tashi scoffs as she snatches the jacket from your hands. “You’re the one who swoons every time you watch a romcom.”
She’s right about that one.
Tashi smacks her lips as she hangs your jacket back up in your closet. “I still don’t get why you’re so nervous. I thought we broke all the ice at the hotel.”
“Well, I can still be nervous. Just because you and Patrick had sex two weeks ago doesn’t mean I have to be as confident.”
She sighs because you’re right. Tonight is your first date. With Art. Not your first date ever. But you sure do feel nervous enough to pretend it is.
You and Art have been texting nonstop for the last six weeks, but between the odd part time jobs you’ve picked up over the summer and his tennis training, you haven’t had any time to hang out, unless your best friends who managed to squeeze in their first date, first time and first sleepover together all in one go. But Tashi and Patrick are much more go getter than you.
Tashi didn’t give you shit for your lack of fervour in pursuing whatever relationship you and Art had, but you still felt a little perturbed when she called you the day after her night with Patrick, and told you that he’d asked about you guys.
(“Does he not talk to Art about it?” you asked.
“He said Art’s happy, but he wanted to know how things were going on your end. Since you guys have only been texting.”)
So now you feel pressured. Like somehow your relationship is linked to Patrick and Tashi. Like they’re waiting for you guys to catch up.
But you don’t say any of that. Because you want things to go at your own pace, you keep quiet. Because you don’t want to speak it into existence, even if Tashi will roll her eyes and call you ridiculous for it because she knows your life is yours and hers is hers, despite the way she keeps trying to push you in certain directions.
When the doorbell inevitably rings, you and Tashi exchange looks. She gives you a nod. It’s more firm than comforting, like she’s sending you off to play at Wimbledon and she knows you’re going to win.
Your parents aren’t home for the next few days, which is why you strategically planned your date for tonight, because God forbid they use their last few weeks with you living under their roof to embarrass you in front of a guy. You almost expect Tashi to answer the door for you as if she’s your mother, but instead, she shoves your bag in your chest, says, “I’m using your shampoo and eating all your snacks,” and pushes you out of the bedroom door, then closes it.
One last check in the nearest reflective surface, and you’re ready.
Art is dressed casually, like you, in jeans and a polo. Tashi was right in saying that he would wear a jacket. In the light of your front porch, he looks especially gentle, the warm light threading through his hair like a halo.
The smile that lights up his face when you open the door has the potential to end your whole bloodline, you swear. The way your heart rate picks up feels like some kind of fight or flight response, but you’re willing to ignore it all for him.
“Hey,” he says. His voice has a comforting cadence, you think. It’s been six weeks since you’ve last heard it, since you were always too scared to call him. But it’s a sound like coming home.
“Hi,” you speak softly.
There’s a bouquet in his hands, which he holds out to you, one hand tucked in his jeans. “I brought these for you.”
You take them gingerly, trying to fight the grin that threatens to split your face in half. He’s so cute. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
You put them on the table just inside. Tashi will eventually make her way downstairs and put them in some water for you. Closing the door, you turn back to Art, who holds his hand out to you. It’s such a strangely innocent gesture that you almost catch yourself giggling like a schoolgirl.
“Shall we?”
You take it, grinning like a madman. “We shall.”
“I never got to hear what you want to major in.” The fry in your hand is currently being waved around as though you’re conducting an orchestra.
“Oh. I don’t know,” Art averts his eyes to his plate. “I haven’t thought about it much.”
“I won’t judge,” you prompt gently.
He looks contemplative, and wets his bottom lip with his tongue briefly before looking up at you. “Okay.”
“Okay…” You gesture your fry towards him.
“You promise you won’t judge?” He asks, bobbing his head questioningly at you
You lean towards the table with your hand over your heart. “I swear it.”
“Physics. Or engineering.”
Sitting back in your seat, you survey him.
“That suits you,” you say genuinely. After you’ve said the words, you’re reminded all too well of the night in the hotel room again, and your cheeks warm.
“Thanks,” Art says, gazing at you. “Patrick says that too, before he calls me a loser.”
“I’m guessing you’re more studious than he is.”
“You’d be right.”
Another sip of your milkshake. “I think it’s cool. Maybe we’ll even have some classes together.”
Art smiles his eye-crinkling smile across the table. “Yeah, maybe we will.”
You don’t even need to pretend to shiver. The second you’ve stepped out of the restaurant, Art’s jacket is slipped onto your shoulders. It’s warm, and smells faintly like sandalwood mixed with laundry detergent. You resist the urge to inhale the collar. Instead you smile shyly, and take his hand. There’s a knot forming in your chest at the thought of the night being over, but when the two of you reach his car, Art doesn’t take out his keys. He turns and leans against the side of his car, hand still entwined with your own.
“I had a lot of fun tonight,” he says simply.
Your lips quirk up in amusement. “So did I.”
He hums. Your hands are swung from side to side as he looks down at them. You can’t help the laugh that escapes you as you step closer.
“What are you thinking about?” you whisper. You know what he’s thinking about.
He looks down at you, and does a one shoulder shrug. “I’m thinking about how much I want to kiss you.”
Your heart stops and gets jumpstarted again in the span of about six milliseconds. God. You knew it was coming, but you still couldn’t prepare yourself.
“Not asking anymore, are we?” You grin, chest thumping like crazy.
“Oh, come on.” With a tug on your hand, you’re pulled flush against him, chest to chest.
Art leans in to your ear, and whispers as if divulging a well-kept secret. “May I please kiss you?”
The tickle of his breath over your jaw sends a zap of electricity through every single nerve in your body. Your breath hitches. “You may.”
You’re not sure you’ll ever get sick of Art Donaldson’s smile. The curve of his mouth as he leans in, brushing his nose to yours before your lips meet.
Your computer pings.
Patrick Zweig sent you a friend request.
You raise an eyebrow and hit ‘accept.’
A minute later, there’s another notification.
Patrick Zweig wrote on your wall. “Congratulations on a successful first date with @Art Donaldson! 😘”.
#challengers#challengers x reader#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#tashi duncan x reader#challengers imagines#tashi duncan#art donaldson#patrick zweig#mike faist#josh o'connor#zendaya#written works !
238 notes
·
View notes
Text
Maya Fey's character is written in such a charmingly, heart wrenchingly subtle way.
She has to face all manners of tragedy, but she always has that smile on her face and presses on, feigning happiness and lightheartedness. It's honestly somewhat disturbing. How can someone smile so seemingly easily after such tragedy?
Can you imagine going to your sister’s workplace, expecting to spend a quiet evening together, and instead... you see a slumped silhouette against the wall of the window?
She spawns the most crazy things out of her mouth just to fill the silence sometimes. Why? Sure, it may be for the game's comic relief… but sometimes it appears a tad forced? Like it’s because she wants to build a relationship with Phoenix - like her sister asked her - and doesn't quite know how to. He’s the only person that can understand what she’s going through. She’s suffering. He’s suffering. So she needs to fill the silence somehow. And she drags him along most times, she is the one that decides they should take Power’s case, after all.
After Edgeworth's trial she feels useless (even though she clearly was the reason Phoenix could save him... can you believe she just charged in against Von Karma? that's insane) and goes back home to resume her training so she can help Phoenix again.
After Edgeworth's ‘death’, Phoenix didn't keep in touch. Although she didn’t know about Edgeworth, she knew that the whole year had been hard on them both in the first place... so she grew worried, and basically bargained with her client to go and get him and drag him to Kurain.
Phoenix can get back into taking cases just because she's there to cheer him up. So she needs to be strong! Even though she's suffering tremendously as well. Mia isn't there anymore and now she also needs to take care of her cousin because apparently she can’t even have her aunt to rely on, because for some reason the universe decided to give her the most complicated family drama imaginable.
When they face Franziska? She's awfully perceptive. She's only 18, and instead of being angry at Franziska's behavior, she wonders how she can be so strong? And she seems to admire her? Would a 18 year old accused of murder think that of the accuser? That's frankly baffling. It shows maturity far beyond her age, to think of the true feelings behind people’s behavior despite what it means for her situation.
And then she gets kidnapped. And still, she feigns being fine…
Then then Hazakura happens. All that and she's still thinking about other people! She tries to protect Godot, even though it's a moot point. She tries to be strong for Pearl - as Edgeworth points out - and she tries so hard to not make everything affect her.
She takes everything in stride but also suppresses her feelings. And she's very very good at it, even. She seems fine. Franziska is baffled at her nonchalance, and somehow Edgeworth is the one who needs to explain it, perhaps because they had similar experiences and their tragedy is linked to the same root. Edgeworth tried to repress his feelings as well (although he is, by contrast, very very bad at hiding them) so he knows what he's talking about. I quite like that scene at the end of AA3 because that makes it deliberate on Takumi’'s part that he wanted to write her that way from the start. (it also adds to the development of 3 characters at once: Maya, Miles and Franziska)
Her misfortunes don’t end here, either. SOJ happens. Kidnapped again, accused of murder again. People she trusted betray her and she finds it in her heart to forgive them? And now she also has a ton of responsibilities. And she needs to appear even stronger now in front of other people, because they depend on her. She’s still cheerful though.
Because she needs to be.
She first needs to be strong for Phoenix, then Pearl, then for the whole village of Kurain. And she manages to be, somehow.
I love when characters are written this way. Once you have all the pieces together, if you go back and analyze their behavior, it makes the experience so much richer and so much more meaningful.
#had to summarize this a lot because tumblr apparently has a word limit?#oh well#hope I got the point across regardless#ace attorney#maya fey#aa musings#musings#soj spoilers
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
(steddie | teen | 1.2k | tags: first date, first kiss, very slight angst | written for the stwg daily prompt kiss in the rain)
Today has to be perfect, Eddie vows as he parks his van in the Harrington's driveway.
Because today Eddie is taking Steve out on their first date.
Frankly, he has no idea how he managed to get a date with the Steve Harrington. Even more, he has no idea how someone as beautiful and kind and sweet and funny as Steve would want to go out with someone like him.
It certainly helps that they saved the world together and share many, many traumas, as well as some horrible scars that tell the story of everything they've been through.
Eddie wants to believe that's not all that binds them, that the months they've spent growing closer over shared custody of Steve's six nuggets, movie nights, and long hours spent smoking and talking on top of the Munsons' new trailer have a lot to do with it, too.
But Eddie also knows that the Eddie of a year ago would have scoffed at the idea of going out with King Steve. Just like that Steve wouldn't have gone out with the town freak.
Which is why Eddie needs today to be a success.
Today has to be perfect.
As he rings the bell, his heart beats wildly in his chest and sweat forms on his palms.
Steve answers the door with a smile that makes Eddie's knees weak. "Hey," he says, and Eddie's mind blanks for a moment. Steve's wearing those jeans, the ones that look like they're painted on, showing off his legs and...other parts. And he has them paired with a striped polo shirt that is not supposed to look as good as it does.
"Hey," Eddie replies, finally finding his voice. "You ready for a day full of adventure?"
Steve grins and nods, stepping out and closing the door behind him. "Lead the way. As long as there are no monsters to fight, I'm game."
Eddie's plan is simple: a picnic in an empty field he found a few weeks ago, but first some good old-fashioned ball throwing to indulge Steve's love of sports. It's no secret that Eddie hates sports, but he's willing to make an exception for Steve. He often feels that Steve is the one indulging the kids, Robin, or even himself, because except for Lucas, none of their friends enjoy sports, either playing or watching.
So Eddie wants to show Steve that his hobbies and interests are important too, and that Eddie can try to be as involved in them as Steve is in his.
They drive to the field with music blasting, a mix tape that Eddie has made especially for this occasion, a perfect blend of his and Steve's taste in music, and he feels a little more at ease as Steve sings along, off-key and carefree. When "Somebody To Love" comes on, Steve playfully nudges him with his elbow and Eddie joins him as they both sing along, grinning broadly.
"Did you bring me here to murder me and get rid of the body, Munson?" Steve jokes at the sight of the empty field and Eddie lets out a theatrical cackle.
"Afraid I'm going to have my way with you, Harrington?"
Heat pools in his stomach at the smile Steve gives him in response.
"Don't threaten me with a good time."
Deciding on a hasty retreat before he does something embarrassing like whimper, Eddie climbs out of the van and goes to the back, pulling out an old baseball and a pair of gloves.
"Thought we could start with this," Eddie says, holding up the ball to Steve, who has followed him to the back of the van.
Steve's eyes light up at the sight. "You remembered."
As if Eddie could ever forget all the secrets and stories Steve had shared with him, while the stars above them were the only witnesses to some of the best moments of Eddie's life.
Steve had told him how he had always loved baseball as a little boy, and how his father had sometimes taken him to games. Looking back, Steve said he probably loved his father's attention and time more than the sport itself, but for whatever reason, it had been his first great love. He collected all the cards and knew everything there was to know about stats and players and rules. All he wanted was to be a player.
When he tried out at school, he didn't make the team. It was only years later that Steve found out why he had trouble hitting the ball with his bat: he had impaired vision, something his parents never bothered with, so he was never examined. At the time, he believed it was because he wasn't good enough, a failure. His dad seemed to think the same thing, because after he didn't make the team, he never took Steve to games again.
Steve hadn't played since, so Eddie figured it was time to help Steve have some good memories of baseball again.
Eddie shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Yeah, figured you'd like it."
They toss the ball back and forth, Steve coaching Eddie on his form, laughing when Eddie fumbles a catch. They're both having fun, and Eddie starts to relax, thinking maybe this date won't be a disaster after all.
But then Eddie misjudges a throw, and the ball smacks him right on the forehead. He stumbles back, more surprised than hurt, but his confidence takes a hit.
"Shit, Eddie, you okay?" Steve rushes over, concern etched on his face.
Eddie laughs it off, though his heart sinks. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just my luck, huh?"
Steve looks relieved but still worried. "Maybe we should take a break."
Eddie nods, feeling like he's already ruined things. He wonders why he thought it was a good idea to throw a ball with an ex-jock when he failed gym class more than once. So much for giving Steve a good baseball memory.
Still, he trudges over to the van to get everything they need for the picnic he has planned. The delighted smile on Steve's face at the sight of the basket and the blanket under Eddie's arm makes him think that maybe all is not lost. But just as he spreads out the blanket and unloads the food he's prepared, he glances up at the sky and sees dark clouds gathering. Still, he clings to the hope that they can finish before the rain comes.
Eddie should have known better. Luck and he have only been acquaintances at the best of times.
Just as they're settling in, the first raindrop falls, then another, and within seconds, it's pouring.
Eddie's heart sinks. This day was supposed to be perfect, and now it's a mess. "I'm so sorry, Steve. This was supposed to be perfect and now —"
Steve cuts him off with a bright laugh, his hair plastered to his forehead, rain running down his face. "Eddie, it's fine. Really."
Eddie looks at him, confused. "But the rain, and the ball, and—"
Steve steps closer, cupping Eddie's face in his hands. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you. You did so much for me today, Eddie." And before Eddie can respond, Steve kisses him.
It's a soft, lingering kiss that makes Eddie forget about the rain, the ball, and everything else. When they pull apart, Steve's smiling. "This is perfect, Eddie."
Eddie laughs, feeling lighter than he has all day. "Yeah, it kinda is."
As they pack up the picnic in the pouring rain, Eddie realizes that maybe perfection isn't about everything going right. Maybe it's about finding the right moments, even in the midst of chaos, with the right person.
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie drabble#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson#steve harrington#stwgdailyprompt#my writing
100 notes
·
View notes
Note
.
Can I request a scenario where the lin kuei brothers, after rescuing the reader from an enemy who was torturing the reader, react to the hijacked!reader(idk, if you read/watched the hunger games especially mockingjay, if you didn't then hijacking in hunger games is a form brainwashing involving the venom of tracker-jackers(mutated wasps whose venom can cause hallucinations and can painfully kill a person) to alter the memories of a person in a negative manner), who reacts violently towards them and bring afraid of them, calling them a monster and verbally berating them.
I haven’t seen those movies in years but I watched some videos and looked at the wiki so I hope I got it right! I also added a Drabble for everyone as a “my bad” cause I took so long.
Also it is 5:09pm. The danger time (look at previous post. Weather shit) is until 7pm. I’m hoping we stay fine but bitch it’s raining and I hear thunder and saw lightning. Send help😭
Bitch I’m proof reading and my lights flickered-
Anger is much easier and better to feel than sadness or grief, so he forces himself to feel that instead
The second he realizes that you've been taken by enemies, he's in a rage
He's visibly more angry and harsh towards everyone
He hardly sleeps or lets himself relax because that means he's not looking for you
Someone could take a break to sit and he's asking why they aren't doing anything to help
Once you're found he's relieved and wants to see you immediately
All that stress slips from his shoulders when he sees that you're alive and safe
That stress is immediately dumped back on his shoulders when instead of pulling him into a hug, you run at him and wrap your hands around his throat
As you can imagine, he has no problem pushing you off, but he's thrown so off guard because why would he ever expect you to attack him?
You don't come to your senses and his confusion rises when you attack him again by jumping on him and trying to strangle him again
If you weren't trying to murder him, he'd be impressed with how you hang on despite how many times he's hit you
Having to knock you out takes a lot out of him mentally. I mean, come on y'all. You were missing for so long and instead of hugging and loving each other when you finally saw each other, you attacked him like a wild animal and he actually had to defend himself
When he's told what Hijacking is, all that anger comes back
Some sick fuck took you from him, tortured you in various ways and managed to change your memories to something negative. How could he not be angry? They destroyed you with such precision. It was sick.
Bi-Han is advised not to see you again. Anyone could guess that he wouldn't listen
He had hope that maybe you just needed rest, but that didn't seem to work
You forgot you were strapped down and tried to run at him again. You fussed with your straps in an attempt to get free and yelled in frustration
Bi-Han doesn't know what to say. In an attempt to comfort you, he says “we'll fix you”
“There's always something wrong with me, isn't there?” You sneered with resentment.
He kept talking to you and it seemed like no memory was left safe. Every single memory was tainted. The image of him was tainted. Why? Why did this have to happen to someone as kind as you? Why not to him? Or, as dick head-ish it sounded, a random Lin Kuei member?
All his efforts go to finding a way to reverse it. And I can see him being angry at Liu Kang because he can't reverse it. It fuels a resentment he already holds for him
“Grandmaster, I have been instructed to not let you in this room” a Lin Kuei member said in his best stern voice. Bi-Han didn't have time for this. He had just been informed that somehow Liu Kang couldn't save you, which made absolutely no sense to him. Liu Kang, this powerful god that created the universe itself couldn't fix this one person in the universe? Someone who deserved to be saved the most out of everyone?
“Your Grandmaster didn't give you this order, did I?”. The Lin Kuei swallowed hard and tried to stammer something out, but Bi-Han pushed him out the way and went inside the formally blocked room.
You looked over at him, still with hate in your eyes. Your brows were low, your mouth in a deep frown, your arms and legs strapped to the bed. Your face was less bruised than it was when you first arrived, so he guessed he was thankful for that.
“You look like shit” you said.
“I've been worried about you” he answered honestly.
“Bullshit. You lie. You always lie”
“Who told you that?” he stepped closer to you although he knew he shouldn't. “Our enemies made you think this. They lied to you. They tortured you because they knew it'd hurt me. Because I love you”. He wasn't sure he's loved anyone as much as he loves you. But you wouldn't believe him. You kept saying he was lying and you had no idea how much it killed him to see you, but not have you.
You stared at him blankly while thinking. You smirked at him and motioned for him to come even closer. He didn't though. The various wounds he had kept him from keeping hope of you changing.
“Do you think your father let out a sigh of relief when he realized he was dying and getting away from you? Your mother as well? Being around you is the worst torture imaginable and I can't wait until I'm set free too”.
Kuai Liang vows that he'll find and bring you back home no matter what
He's also uneasy and on edge the entire time
No stone is left unturned. He's checking every possible area and is suspicious of everyone
He knows you'll have some sort of trauma, so when you're found, he tries to give you space
Just enough time for doctors to look you over
When he visits you the last thing he expects is for you to do is scream and try to get away from him
He tries to get closer to you and comfort you but you keep screaming and accusing him of trying to hurt you
He's confused. He would never do such a thing to you. He hardly even play fought with you because he was so worried about him accidentally hurting you
You keep clinging to the doctors and yelling at him to stay away
He just doesn't understand how something like this can happen. He keeps trying to comfort you but you're terrified of him
He has to be dragged out because he doesn't wanna leave at all
When he's told what's happened to you he's confused how this is even possible and he wonders if he can ever get you back
It's not necessarily just “I want my partner back”. It's also “they didn't deserve to have their light taken away”
You stay terrified of him so he tries to stay away from you
He checks in when you're sleep and he peeks at you when you're not paying attention
A two way mirror is a way to watch you as well
Honestly he'd rather have you angry at him than afraid of him
You look so broken and shaken and it's killing him
The same way he vowed to find you is the same way he vows to save you
Meanwhile he has other people talk to you for him. He's trying to see if maybe someone else can make you realize that he's not some monster that you've been brainwashed to believe
It doesn't seem to work, but he keeps trying. He refuses to give up on you.
Kuai Liang was warned that this could possibly be a bad idea, but he didn't care. What was he supposed to do? Not try? Just let you sit and rot? No. Maybe he didn't have any magical abilities that could cure you, but he could still try.
He watched through the 2 way mirror as Tomas approached you. You were a lot nicer to him and more comfortable around him. As bad as it sounded, it made him feel awful that Tomas was your comfort instead of him.
Tomas tried to ease you into a conversation about Kuai Liang and he watched you tense and sit up. Did you think he was going to rush in and attack you? No. There had to be some parts of you still in there.
“Kuai Liang isn't a bad person. You've been lied to-”
“He killed your family”.
Tomas cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “Kuai Liang was too young to-”
“They’re all killers!” You snapped. “They'll kill me! He'll kill me! Did he send you in here to weaken me?!” You looked around the room in fear and Kuai Liang stupidly ran in there to comfort you as a reflex.. He realized his mistake when he caught your eye and you fell out of your bed trying to get away.
“HE'S HERE!” You screeched like a banshee and crawled to the farthest wall. “HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE!”. Tomas gripped Kuai Liang’s shoulders and pushed him away. He knew he shouldn't have been in there, but a part of him still fought back against the younger man.
“GET AWAY! GET AWAY FAST! HE'S HERE! HE'S HERE! HE'LL HURT ME!” You kept screaming and clawed at your face.
Tomas closed the door in Kuai Liang’s face with a remorseful look. The man stayed there and listened to you scream and destroy things around you. He didn't move or cover his ears. He deserved to listen. It was his punishment for not finding you in time.
This is gonna sound bad, but when you go missing, he already assumes you're dead
Hope for the best but prepare for the worst type shit
He's no stranger to death and obviously he doesn't WANT you to be dead, but he prepares himself for if that's the case
Don't think he's not searching tho. He’s always looking for you. He's not even eating
When they find you he's so relieved
He has the doctors tell him how you are because as much as he wants to see you, he knows he gotta let them do their job
He feels so bad because all the reports he's getting are terrible. Each bruise he's told about shatters him
He brings flowers when he's finally allowed to visit you
When you attack him he's thrown completely off guard
He doesn't even really defend himself at first because he's never had to defend himself from you
At first he thinks you're angry with him because he failed to protect you. When he's told what really happened, he wished it was the first one instead
He blames himself for not protecting you, so he'd understand that
You being tortured and your memories being toyed with? It was terrible. He'd say he wished the tables were turned and he was tortured, but he'd never want you to feel how he feels
He keeps trying to communicate with you but you keep screaming and trying to kill him
Honestly he'd deal with all of that without any complaints. He just keeps being told it's not a good idea and not good for your recovery
The insults, the foul language, the physical attacks, none of it hurts as much as the knowledge that there's a possibility he won't get you back
He has gifts sent to you but never says it's from him
He has old pictures sent to you too hoping that it'll spark something
He'll keep trying to save you even if it kills him
Tomas’ heart thumped hard and rapidly in his chest as he walked to your room, bouquet in hand. He knew flowers wouldn't solve whatever happened to you, but he hoped it'd cheer you up somewhat. He had finally been allowed to visit you after what felt like forever and while he wasn't happy to see how bad you looked, he was happy to see you alive.
He pushed the door open and your frame came into view. Bandages covered the bruises on your face and body, but thankfully you had showered since you arrived. He hoped feeling clean gave you a sense of relief or peace. He just hoped you felt better.
You saw Tomas and your brows furrowed- no. That couldn't be. You wouldn't look at him like… nah.
“Tomas?” You said.
“It's me”. He turned to set the flowers down and immediately heard people yelling your name. He turned, scared he'd see you having some sort of medical complication. What he didn't expect was to feel you shove him against the wall then onto the ground.
“MUTT! POISONOUS MUTT!”. He screamed as he felt something pierce his shoulder. It was a scissor. He hadn't even seen you grab it. How were you that fast and why were you doing this?
“Stop!” he shouted. You stared at him with loathing and hatred, which was something he couldn't wrap his head around. He winced when you pulled the scissor out.
He blocked you from stabbing him in the chest. You looked angered and pushed on your hand to try and stab him. “What's wrong with you?” he whispered, his eyes wide in fright.
The scissor was ripped from your hand and you were pulled off him by multiple doctors and others who heard the commotion. He got to his feet and watched as you kept trying to break free from their grip.
“MUTT! POISONOUS MUTT!” You repeated. “HE KILLED HIS FAMILY! HE'LL LEAD US TO OUR DEMISE! POISON! TOXIC!I HAVE TO KILL HIM!” You screeched and kept struggling. He held his bloodied shoulder in disbelief.
What had happened to you?
Once again, apologies it took so long. My writing break was timed POORLY
#mk1#mk1 2023#mortal kombat 1#bi han sub zero#bi han#kuai liang scorpion#kuai liang#tomas vrbada smoke#kuai liang mk1#bi han mk1#tomas vrbada mk1#tomas vrbada#tomas vrbada headcanons#tomas vrbada angst#tomas vrbada x reader#bi han angst#bi han headcanons#kuai liang angst#bi han x reader#kuai liang x reader#mk1 angst#mk1 headcanons#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat angst
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
SATISFACTION.
𝖧𝗎𝗆𝖺𝗇! 𝖠𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋
❝A person's true character always has hidden facets, and discovering them can lead you down unexpected paths.❞
You couldn't shake the feeling that your partner was hiding something from you. For days, Alastor had been acting strangely. He claimed to be busy at the radio station because his colleague had been fired, or he simply wouldn't answer you.
"Can't he spare a minute to let me know he's okay?" you complained, looking at the landline phone on the table.
You called him again, but once more, he didn't answer. You felt worse and worse, with a knot of anxiety in your chest.
Did I do something to make him angry? you wondered, replaying every conversation, every gesture, searching for any sign of displeasure.
You sighed in frustration as you headed to the kitchen. The two of you didn't live together, so you didn't know when Alastor was coming home or when he was going to the radio station. The uncertainty was consuming you.
"I think I'll go see him," you suggested to yourself, trying to convince yourself that you were just worried about his well-being.
You looked out the window to admire the sky and saw that it would soon be getting dark. You decided to take a shower so you could go see your partner. You didn't want to be too demanding or know what he was doing every five minutes; you were just concerned because murders had started happening in the city in recent weeks, and you feared for his safety. But Alastor seemed to be ignoring you.
When you finished showering and getting dressed, you grabbed your car keys and started driving to his place. As you drove through the dark streets, your mind kept turning over the situation. Every streetlight you passed cast an intermittent light on your trembling hands on the steering wheel, and you couldn't help but feel that every shadow hid a new secret.
Why is he acting this way? you thought as your car's headlights illuminated the deserted road. The silence in the car only made your thoughts echo more loudly. You remembered his smiles, his sweet words, and how those displays of affection had gradually become less frequent, more distant. The Alastor you knew seemed to be fading away, replaced by a stranger who filled you with uncertainty.
You drove past the park where you used to walk together. Nostalgia hit you like a wave, remembering the shared laughter and happy moments. Where did all that go? you asked yourself with a sharp pain in your heart. You tried to find an explanation, some logical reason, but all you found were more doubts and more fear.
Finally, you turned off the car a few houses away from his. It was already night, and you wanted to believe he was home.
As you got out of the car, you saw him in the distance. "Thank God, he's home," you whispered in relief, gripping the door handle with trembling hands.
But the silhouette of someone, specifically a girl, approached your partner, and you stayed in the car, watching the scene in disbelief. Your heart stopped when you saw Alastor kiss the stranger. You felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over you, and a sharp pain pierced your heart. In your mind, everything now made sense; this was why Alastor had been ignoring you these days.
Did I do something wrong? you asked yourself, tears starting to well up in your eyes. You watched them both go inside the house, while you, from afar, stayed in the car, paralyzed by the betrayal. Soon, the tears began to slide down your face, falling slowly as sobs started to escape your mouth, each one more heart-wrenching than the last.
"What did I do wrong?" you repeated to yourself over and over, each word a dagger in your heart. You stayed in the car for about ten minutes, as the tears continued to flow incessantly. You loved Alastor too much, but it seemed he didn't feel the same love.
Finally, you got out of the car and started walking towards Alastor's door, wiping away your tears with trembling hands and a broken heart.
Knock, knock.
You waited. But no one answered. You knocked on the door again, this time getting a response. Alastor opened the door, looking at you with a smile that seemed more sinister than ever.
"Darling!" Alastor exclaimed with his usual enthusiasm, his voice resonating with a warmth that now seemed sinister to you. "Come in." How could he pretend nothing was happening? His smile seemed even more unsettling under the dim porch light, and as he stepped aside to let you in, you felt a chill run down your spine, as if you were about to enter the lair of a beast.
As you crossed the threshold, the atmosphere of the house enveloped you with a sense of impending danger. Every shadow, every dark corner seemed to hide terrible secrets. Alastor closed the door behind you with a soft click that sounded like a sentence. You looked around carefully, your eyes scanning every detail for a clue as to where the other girl might be. The air was charged with almost tangible tension, and your heart was racing.
"Are you okay, darling?" Alastor asked, approaching with calm and confident steps, like a predator stalking its prey. His hands rested on your shoulders, and his gaze of false concern filled you with anger and fear. "Your eyes are red, have you been crying?"
The question, said with insidious softness, made your blood boil. The hypocrisy in his tone was unbearable. The tears you had tried to hold back threatened to overflow again, but you contained them, feeling the pain transform into a cold, sharp fury.
"I saw you, Alastor," you said, trying to stay calm, though your voice trembled with suppressed rage and anguish. "I saw you kissing that girl."
The silence that followed was dense, laden with suffocating tension. Alastor's smile didn't fade; on the contrary, it seemed to widen, revealing a dark satisfaction. "A girl?" he murmured with barely disguised mockery, feigning confusion. "Oh, I know… do you want to meet her?"
The words were like a punch to the stomach. A chill ran down your spine, and though you wanted to respond, fear left you breathless. Before you could react, Alastor grabbed your arm with unexpected strength and began to lead you to a room. Each step echoed like a hammering in your head, each second stretching into an eternity of terror.
Once in front of the door, Alastor released you abruptly, and his smile became even more disturbing. "She's in there. If you want to know everything, open the door," he said with a calmness that was terrifying.
The atmosphere grew even denser and more oppressive. You looked at the door handle with a mix of fear and determination, your fingers trembling as you reached for it.
"Just one thing, darling," Alastor added, his eyes narrowed with a malice that chilled your blood. "Once you open the door, there will be no turning back."
You swallowed, fighting the panic that threatened to paralyze you. With one last effort of will, you turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. The room was shrouded in darkness, but Alastor, with an even wider and more malevolent smile, turned on the light.
There, in the center of the room, lay the girl, dead. The sight hit you like a hammer blow, making your whole body feel heavy and your legs give way. The color drained from your face, and your mind went blank for a moment. Alastor, reveling in your horror, slowly removed his glasses. "There's no turning back, darling," he murmured, savoring each word.
Desperation spurred you to act. You shoved Alastor roughly and tried to run, but he was quick enough to catch you and bring you to the floor. The impact knocked the wind out of you, and terror enveloped you completely.
"Stay away from me!" you screamed, your voice breaking with fear and desperation, as you struggled frantically for your life.
You tried to hit him, scratch him, do anything to free yourself, but it was useless. Alastor was much stronger, and his cynicism was reflected in every move. "Oh, darling…" his tone was a mix of mockery and dark delight. "The fact that you want to fight for your life makes me want to kill you even more." With a slow, calculated gesture, he pulled a knife from his pocket, the blade glinting with a deadly shine under the light.
This was the pure truth: the only thing that gave Alastor satisfaction was seeing people fight for their lives, only to watch them fail.
And this time would be no exception.
Intellectual property of @doliacuddles.
67 notes
·
View notes
Text
Strictly Professional | Part 4
Spencer Reid x BAU!Reader
18+❤️🔥 MDNI ‼️
You go see Spencer in his hotel room after a case is wrapped up.
Part 1, 2, 3
“You’re staring,” JJ says, startling you.
“Wha-“ you say absentmindedly.
She nods towards Spence who is leaning against one of the black SUV’s talking to Rossi.
His legs are crossed at the ankles, his sleeves rolled up, and his hands are shoved into his pockets. The streetlights above his cast his features in stark shadows. It was… distracting to say the least.
“It’s the pants right? They’re more form fitting,” JJ laughs. You turn to her with your mouth agape.
“I wasn’t…”
“Come on, you’d have to be blind not to see how good he looks,” she nudges you.
“Aren’t you married?” You ask playfully,
“Married, not blind,” she winks.
You smile and roll your eyes.
“Yeah it’s definitely the pants,” you surrender.
“So make a move,” she says and hands you a piece of gum.
You’re all waiting around for Hotch and Prentiss to call you into the house a block down which they are staking out.
“No way, we’re coworkers,” you make an effort to sound appalled and hope she doesn’t pick up on the insincerity.
“Oh please, it wouldn’t be the first time romance struck the BAU,” she says. You give her a blank and confused stare. “Kevin and Penelope?”
“Oh right, but they work in different units,” you point out. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not interested in him like that,” you decide to shut the conversation down.
“What are we talking about?” Morgan hops in.
“Nothing,” you and JJ say in unison.
“Damn, okay,” he laughs and holds up his hands feigning innocence.
“He’s got the girl, we’re going in,” Hotch comes over the ear pieces. You all jump into one of the SUVs.
Morgan drives and Rossi takes the front seat.
You, JJ, and Spencer cram into the back in a hurry. You slam into Spence when you stumble over the middle console, your face colliding with his chest. JJ is shoving herself into the space next to you.
“Sorry,” you push yourself off of him and sit up. He lets out a soft laugh.
Your bulky vests make the whole thing awkward as the car speeds towards the unsubs house.
You’re in the middle, pressed into Spence who is looking everywhere but towards you. You inhale his familiar scent and your body comes to attention. It recognizes him, craves him. You adjust to pull your arm out from between the two of you and he lifts his arm to help. He props it on the head rest behind you but doesn’t touch you. He’s close enough that the heat and electricity starts buzzing between you. He clears his throat and you swear he’s adjusting himself by shifting his legs. You nearly smirk because you have the same effect on him.
The car stops abruptly and you’re all piling out of it. You get back on your A-game and pull your gun from the holster.
Somewhere in the house you hear Rossi reasoning with the man who comes into view.
The 10 year old little girl is trembling under his knife, her face streaked with tears.
“Hey Kelly,” Spencer begins quietly. You glance it him, unsure what he’s doing. The unsub seems put off too.
“Can you tell me how you feel, tell him how what he’s doing is hurting you,” he says gently. His gun is holstered.
The unsub had taken the little girl after his own daughter was murdered. He was trying to create a new life with a new child to fill a void. He didn’t profile as someone who would hurt the child.
“I don’t like it, it’s scary,” the girl cries.
“It’s going to be okay Kelly, we’re going to get you out of here,” Spencer says softly. She nods and sniffles.
“Lionel you hear that? You don’t want to hurt her the way they hurt Maya do you?” Rossi reasons.
“I want my daddy,” she cries again. Her small frame rattling with fear.
Lionel is looking frantically around the room, trying to find a way out.
“There’s no way out, you need to let her go. We can help you,” you say, keeping your gun centered on him.
“No one can help me!” He bellows angrily, causing Kelly to whine.
“Maya wouldn’t want this. You know you can’t replace her,” Spencer says.
That seems to break something in the man who drops his arm in defeat.
The girl sprints towards your team, immediately latching onto Spencer who allows her to grab his arm. She looks back at you with big teary eyes.
“You’re safe now,” you whisper to her.
The man is on his knees and the gun is kicked aside while Prentiss makes the arrest.
You and JJ walk with Spencer and the little girl outside where CPS will work out getting her home.
Cases didn’t always have happy endings but this was as close as it got. The mad had killed two other girls who didn’t fit his delusion but your team was able to save Kelly and stop him. It felt good.
“Good job in there,” you tell Spencer and offer him a fist bump.
“Thanks,” he reluctantly returns the odd gesture with a shy grin.
-
The team returns to the hotel and you’re so tired you can hardly think straight. The weight of the last week and a half finally starting to dissolve with the cases conclusion.
Once again you’ve had radio silence from Spence outside of professional interaction. Two weeks had passed since Penelope caught you red handed and you expected never to hear from him again.
You sigh and pour yourself a glass of red wine as you sink into the bathtub. You convince yourself it’s fine that he hadn’t made a move, you were fine with not having him. It’s fine.
But then time passes and you’re half a bottle of wine in, your mind wondering to the way those damn pants hugged his hips. The way it accentuated his ass and his long legs. You’re biting your lip when your hand drifts down into the water and over your clit.
Images of him with his vest on, his gun raised, his mouth moving as he talked had you squirming.
Then you remembered how good he always felt inside of you. How you’ve never cum so hard as when he fucked you. Ugh.
You become frustrated and stop rubbing yourself.
Fuck it.
You throw back another half glass of wine and pull on your pajamas. His room was three doors away. You would just march over there and antagonize him. Screw waiting for him to make a move. You were sick and tired of waiting for him to need you. It was your turn.
You knock lightly on his door so as not to alert the rest of the team in the other rooms. It takes a moment but he opens it after looking through the peephole.
“Hey,” he rubs his eyes.
He had been asleep, his hair tousled. He was wearing nothing but pajama pants and your eyes couldn’t help but trail to his stomach.
You place your hand on his chest and push him backwards as you step inside. Your eyes pinned on his. He immediately acquiesces to your command, especially when you push him against the wall and kiss him hard.
It’s clumsy, unpracticed. But you don’t care, you need him. His soft mouth melts and moves against yours until his hands trail up the small of your back.
“We really shouldn’t keep doing this,” he whispers but kisses you again.
“It’s so bad,” you agree.
It was bad, your addiction to one another.
“Mhmm,” he moans drunkenly as though intoxicated by you.
He lifts you up so your legs wrap around his waist, you slam your hand against the wall as you kiss him harder. Your tongues sliding together in teasingly slow motions. God he tasted so fucking good, you could devour him for an eternity.
You roll your hips against him where his erection is pressing into you and a sinful groan escapes him.
“You looked so fucking good today,” he praises as he carries you towards the bed. You’re licking and sucking at his neck, needing to taste him.
“You did too” you purr when he lays you flat on your back.
“How much did you drink?” He asks thoughtfully as he stands above you, taking you in.
“Just a couple of glasses of wine,” you wave your hand dismissively. You move your feet up his chest until they’re resting on his shoulders.
He abruptly grabs your ankles and drops your legs from him before walking out of view. You sit up, confused.
The he takes a seat in the chair behind the desk on the other side of the room. The desk has been covered in books and paperwork in the 10 days he’s occupied the room. It was so him that you grin.
“You came here because you wanted me,” he muses as he lifts his hips to pull down his pants. “Show me how bad you want me, pretty girl.”
He lounges back in the chair, his cock just out and ready for you. You bite your lip nervously but move over to him. He rolls the chair backward from the desk to ensure there’s plenty of room. He looks glorious bathed in the moonlight from the window.
You step out of your pajama shorts in straddle him, taking his face in your hands.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he pushes.
“I think I want you like this all of the time,” you whisper as you grind your wetness against his length.
He grips your hips as you begin to align yourself with the tip of his cock. You lower yourself down and he tries to slow you by digging his nails into your skin. He sucks air through his teeth and throws his head back as you take him completely.
“So tight,” he shudders. Then you rock your hips forward, your clit against him as his cock throbs inside of you.
You continue to roll your hips, keeping him as deep as possible as you find the exact rhythm you need.
You begin to move up and down his length and he groans when your grip his hair.
“Use me, make yourself cum,” he whimpers.
It’s a softer, needier side of him that you hadn’t seen before but you love it. So you do just that. You begin riding him and grinding down on him. Not caring necessarily about what feels good to him but about what feels good to you.
One of your hands trails down the column of his neck and you gently squeeze. His hands find your nipples and he squeezes them hard as he fights to keep quiet.
He’s a mess of groans and whimpers. You throw yourself forward and bite down on his shoulder as you fall into a desperate grind against him as you chase your orgasm.
You moan against his skin as you climax, your walls tightening around his cock in a way that has him squirming beneath you, one hand pulling at your hair while the other digs into your thigh.
“Fuck Spence,” you whisper and roll your head back.
You can feel your cum all over him and it feels so good as you continue to rock your hips back and forth.
“Hold on,” he says, his voice husky.
You do, you prop your hands on the chair behind him as he lifts your hips so you’re halfway up his length.
Then he starts thrusting up into you fast and hard until you’re biting your tongue to stifle your moans.
You have a hard time holding yourself up as he thrusts mercilessly into you, the sound of wet flesh slapping together filling the room. You wrap your arms around his neck and hold on as he pulls you closer. He doesn’t let up, his stamina unmatched as he pounds into you harder.
Your eyes roll back as you attempt to absorb the pleasure beating through you. He buries his head between your tits, his jagged breathing fanning against your skin. The two of you are absolutely lost in each other, unable to get enough. You’re moaning softly, trying to stay quiet when his nails dig into your back.
The sensation is enough to send you over the edge again.
“Baby, fuck baby,” he bites out as you orgasm over him again. He’d never called you that, it’s heady, it makes you smile.
His rhythm slows as you pull him to his climax until he’s cumming inside of you. You roll your hips down on him as he pumps his cum into you, knowing how good it must feel to be as deep as possible while he finished.
“Fuuuck,” he shudders.
His eyes are wide and his mouth is open as he watches you roll your hips the last few times, greedily taking all his cum.
Your eyes linger on each other as the moment softens. You lean in and kiss him, delighted when he kisses you back. It’s more passionate, less needy.
You pull away, not wanting to get lost in the labeling or feeling behind anything. You get off of him and hurry to the restroom where you start the shower. The mixture of both of your releases is running down your thighs and you need to focus on cleaning up rather than whatever you’re feeling.
Something like sadness washes over you, sadness that this can’t be more, that it isn’t more because he doesn’t want it to be.
You’re washing your hair when Spencer steps into the shower.
“Oh,” you startle.
“Is this okay?” He asks.
You nod, taking in his beautiful body as you pull him under the water.
You turn away from him and wash your face. That’s when he wraps his strong arms around you and pulls you flush against him. You stare down at his forearms overlapping across your stomach. He fits against you so perfectly as you lean back into him. He sways gently but doesn’t speak. The intimacy of just holding you seems to be what he needs, it’s not a side of him you’ve seen very much.
“You want me like this always too?” He whispers.
It takes you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice. It’s as though he’s searching for some clue that he means more to you than you let on.
You turn in his arms and reach up to smooth back his wet curls.
“What if I do?” Your voice is hoarse.
“I don’t know how this can be more,” he shakes his head.
You got it, you understood how much it would complicate things. When emotions and favoritism came into play amongst coworkers it could be distracting.
“What do you want Spence?” You decide to be brave and ask him.
Your bodies are pressed together, the warm water trailing between you.
“I want…” he looks at you with what can only be described as puppy dog eyes. Some mixture of fear and sadness painting his beautiful features.
“Reid,” comes Hotch’s voice with a swift knock on the door.
He jumps back, his eyes wide.
“Shit,” you whisper.
Spencer rushes out of the shower as panic consumes you. Why would Hotch need to talk to Spencer at one in the morning!?
#mgg#spencer reid#criminal minds#mgg pics#dr reid#spencer reid one shots#spicy spencer reid#spencer reid one shot#smut#criminal minds smut#criminal minds family#criminal minds oneshot#matthew gray gubler
60 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey Sam, I saw you write about that one-shot of Harry jumping through the veil after Sirius and I wondered if you already published that one somewhere or if you are still writing it? If it’s the latter would you mind sharing snippet?😇 I am really curious now
It is not published. I started it around... fuck, maybe a year ago? So, you can tell, I never finished it. I had only a vague idea of where I was going with it. Then, I had other stories to write and just kind of... never finished it? I don't know if I ever will finish it. It's just been sitting in my WIP folder forever. You guys don't even know about half the stories in that folder just sitting there, collecting dust. I need to get plot bunnies out of my head or else I can't focus on what I'm working on.
Anyway, it's called Looking Glass.
“You’re Harry Potter?” Sirius asked.
Harry nodded. “Yes, my parents are Lily and James Potter. They named you my godfather.”
That seemed completely mental.
“Why would they name me godfather?” Sirius pressed.
Harry swallowed visibly. “Because you and my dad were best friends.”
Sirius wanted to laugh. Him and James Potter were best friends? They fucking hated each other.��
“I’m not even friends with James Potter, let alone his best friend,” Sirius said in a soft voice.
The kid jumped back, jerking his limbs away from Sirius as though he had burned him. “Is that what’s different here? Who… whose my godfather then? Wait, am I even alive here?”
Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know but I know the Potters had a baby boy named Harry. Their supposed friend kidnapped the kid and brought him to the Dark Lord fourteen years ago. He murdered the kid, so I’m not sure how you’re here if you really are Harry Potter.”
Harry’s chest heaved. “What?”
Sirius squinted at the kid. “Unless he didn’t murder the kid and you’re the kid… but why would he connect you with me?”
“Sirius, I don’t think I’m meant to be here,” Harry whispered. “I just… I wanted to save you. Do you, do you think my Sirius is here?”
My Sirius.
Sirius stared at the kid like he had never seen anything like him before. The story seemed outrageous. Alternate universes. Him being friends with James Potter and godfather to his kid. It seemed like an impossible life to lead. Except the kid was staring up at him like he expected him to fix things, like he relied upon Sirius.
“I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Sirius whispered, trying to wrap his brain around what was happening.
Harry took a step closer to him, his big green eyes staring up at him. “Will you help me? Will you help me find my Sirius?”
Sirius’ lips parted.
“You’re the only one I trust,” Harry whispered. “No matter what universe I’m in.”
Sirius cleared his throat. “That’s probably not the smartest idea, kid.”
Harry blinked up at him. “Why?”
Sirius don’t know what possessed him to do it. He raised his left arm, pulling up the sleeve of his dress robes. The Dark Mark shined brightly on his forearm, nearly glittering despite the poor lighting in the room. Harry stepped back, his eyes widening at the sight of the Mark.
“Tell me, does your Sirius have the Mark as well?” Sirius asked in a cool tone.
Harry shook his head. “No, he… he hated Voldemort,” he croaked, his eyes snapping up to Sirius’ face. “Why?”
Sirius pulled his sleeve down, not taking his eyes off the kid. “Because it was what was expected of me. Tell me, are the Blacks not aligned with Voldemort in your world?”
Sirius dove head first into the alternate universe explanation. The kid seemed to uniquely trust Sirius in a way he shouldn’t.
Harry only stared at Sirius. “They are… but you weren’t. You ran away from home when you were sixteen. You couldn’t take it anymore.”
Sirius snorted. “Where the bloody hell would I have gone?”
“The Potters,” Harry whispered. “You said you were always welcome at the Potters.”
Again with the fucking Potters.
“What I don’t understand is why I’m even close to the Potters,” Sirius snapped. “You said James Potter is my best mate?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, since you were eleven. You shared a dorm together, along with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.”
The wheels spun in Sirius’ head. “Wait, I was in Gryffindor?”
Harry frowned. “You mean you weren’t here? Were you…?”
“Slytherin,” Sirius said in a dull voice.
“So, you never became friends with my dad or ran away or, or were named my godfather…” Harry whispered, his voice cracking. “And you joined the Death Eaters? Do you, err, do you believe in all that stuff too?”
Sirius stilled at the question. Truth be told, he never fucking cared about blood status or any of that tosh. But he had been forced to pretend to care. He had hurt people, killed people, all in the name of blood purity because he had no choice.
“No particularly,” Sirius admitted, shoving his hands into his robe pockets.
“Then, why’d you join?” Harry asked, his brows furrowing.
“I didn’t know I had a fucking choice,” Sirius seethed.
Harry swallowed. “My Sirius is part of the Order of the Phoenix.”
Sirius’ face pulled. “For real?”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, you were since you left Hogwarts.”
Sirius didn’t know what to say or to think. But for some reason, he trusted the kid was telling the truth. There was some odd pull he felt towards him, almost like he cared for the kid even though he had never met the kid before.
“And you think your Sirius is somewhere in this universe?” Sirius clarified.
Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I just assumed because I showed up here that he would have as well.”
The door opened behind Sirius. Harry looked beyond him, his face instantly paling. Feet stomped and Sirius turned around slowly to come face to face with James Potter.
Potter grabbed him by the front of his robes and slammed him against the nearest wall. All the air left his lungs at the rough impact. Harry screamed ‘stop’. Robards only shut the door behind him.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Black?” Potter seethed.
Sirius only saw red. Best friends, his fucking arse. Maybe he should doubt the kid a little more.
“I’m as confused as you are,” Sirius replied through clenched teeth. “Get your hands off me.”
Potter didn’t. He shoved Sirius tighter against the wall.
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
What Happens When You Can’t Simply Arrest the Jews For Defending Themselves?
by Seth Mandel
The morning after Easter Sunday in 1903, Yehiel Pesker went to his shop at the Kishinev market to inspect for damage. The previous day, the early rumblings of a pogrom had unsettled the city. On his way back home, he saw about 200 Jews armed with clubs and even a few guns—the second wave of one of history’s most notorious pogroms would come that day and Jews wanted to be prepared. When the pogromists came there was a standoff, until the police intervened against the Jews and the deadly violence continued.
Although these Jews merely presented a desire to defend themselves should they be attacked, and although this was one brief moment on the second day of a three-day blood-riot that would shock the world, “local antisemites and their sympathizers,” according to historian Steven J. Zipperstein, tried to argue that this was an escalation by the Jews and therefore the victims were really to blame for the pogrom. Elsewhere in town, a nearly 60-year-old Jewish man fought off four attackers, who then spread the rumor that a Jew had murdered Christians. For some, then, a literal blood libel in the middle of an extended massacre was transformed into the origin story of the whole riot.
“In arguments made by defense attorneys at the trials of pogrom-related crimes, Sunday’s rioting was dismissed as a ruckus that would quickly have come to an end… had Jews not overreacted,” writes Zipperstein. “In this version it was the all-but-unprovoked aggression of Jews and subsequent rumors of attacks on a church and the killing of a priest that set in motion the unfortunate but, under the circumstances, understandable violence.”
That all may sound ridiculous, because few pogroms are better known than Kishinev and because it had such a profound effect on history: It shaped the perspectives of important Zionist figures and it alarmed the world, even becoming an element of the civil-rights fight in America as an example of why racial and ethnic minorities needed protection from the state enshrined in law.
But leave out the names of people and places, and you’d be describing the response to Hamas’s October 7 massacre. The Jews had it coming; the attacks were essentially an act of self-defense; it would’ve been a minor event had the Jews not escalated by defending themselves.
The Russian police director tried to argue at least for moral equivalence, based on these lies, between the Kishinev Jews and their murderers. You can hear a direct echo of this in Karim Khan, prosecutor at the International Criminal Court, filing applications for arrest warrants for both Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and Hamas terrorist leader Yahya Sinwar: “if we do not demonstrate our willingness to apply the law equally, if it is seen as being applied selectively, we will be creating the conditions for its collapse.” That echo is arguably even louder in the New York Times, which describes the reactions to Khan’s stunt this way: “Mr. Khan’s decision to simultaneously pursue Israeli and Palestinian leaders was criticized by Israeli government ministers and Hamas alike. Both sides questioned why their allies had been targeted instead of their enemies alone.”
Ah yes, both sides. A month after the Hamas attacks, the author Sam Harris denounced this way of thinking on his podcast in a soliloquy that will stand the test of time. The key part:
Of course, the boundary between Anti-Semitism and generic moral stupidity is a little hard to discern—and I’m not sure that it is always important to find it. I’m not sure it matters why a person can’t distinguish between collateral damage in a necessary war and conscious acts of genocidal sadism that are celebrated as a religious sacrament by a death cult. Our streets have been filled with people, literally tripping over themselves in their eagerness to demonstrate that they cannot distinguish between those who intentionally kill babies, and those who inadvertently kill them, having taken great pains to avoid killing them, while defending themselves against the very people who have just intentionally tortured and killed innocent men, women, and yes… babies…
If you have landed, proudly and sanctimoniously, on the wrong side of this asymmetry—this vast gulf between savagery and civilization—while marching through the quad of an Ivy League institution wearing yoga pants, I’m not sure it matters that your moral confusion is due to the fact that you just happen to hate Jews. Whether you’re an anti-Semite or just an apologist for atrocity is probably immaterial. The crucial point is that you are dangerously confused about the moral norms and political sympathies that make life in this world worth living.
And in Khan’s case, if you can’t or won’t differentiate between Hamas’s war and Israel’s, you possess a moral deficit that disqualifies you from any position of authority or responsibility over others.
More important, however, is the core idea behind this trend. For most of history you could simply punish Jews for defending themselves, for staying alive. A pathetic puffed-up prosecutor could watch in silence as Jews were murdered and then file charges against “both sides” as soon as a Jew picked up a club in self-defense. Because the law, you see, must be applied evenly. The world wasn’t going to do anything about Hamas, even after its demonic acts on October 7. A fair prosecutor must wait until there is a Jew to be put in the dock as well. That’s balance. That’s justice.
Karim Khan may be a feeble clown, but he makes an airtight case for the existence of the State of Israel.
51 notes
·
View notes
Note
I'll be real with you, I kinda hate how in the game the MC's trauma is kinda "overlook". Like wdym we literally just got brutally murdered by Belphie then suddenly we're one big happy family?? I personally would stay the fuck away from Belphie 😟 And I'm really excited to see Belial's reaction (def not having favourite rn)
No, that's valid. My issue with Lesson 16 isn't Belphie or what he did (I mean, it sucks but I can see his perspective too). My issue is MC's reaction to it, or lack of reaction.
I get that it's an otome game and MC is supposed to be focusing on the other characters so they don't want to spend the a lot of time going on about MC's potential trauma/feelings, because those are complicated things to explore and take a lot of screen time away from the *romance*. For me, the Night Dagger situation in S2 is similar - my MC would be a mess after what happened, and while there are more appropriate responses from the characters after (Lucifer getting angry, concern for MC who passes out), it's still glossed over a bit too quickly for my liking.
I think that's why I like reading season re-writes, because authors spend time exploring issues that the game didn't, or they find different ways of resolving the conflict with Belphie that doesn't require time travel shenanigans.
Writing/changing Lesson 16 is probably the biggest hurdle for me when it comes to writing the S1/exchange program stories with the OCs. MC's motivations for creating pacts is different, and I think MC having friendships/relationships with Devildom citizens other than the brothers means that Belphie's plan and his whole locked in the attic thing probably won't hold up for long. Don't get me wrong, I like the potential for drama and hurt/comfort if Lesson 16 happens, but it's a pain to make it function in AU stories that don't focus on the demon brothers monopolizing MC's company and attention. lol
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Solomon?" You ask, eyes unblinking like a lizard as you stare at your favourite Rat Bastard. "You know how you're immortal?"
Solomon turns to you in mock shock, "Really? Why I never wouldve guessed."
You deadpan. "It was a serious question."
Solomon smirks his usual evil smirk, which to anyone else observing would look like a pleasant smile. "Yes, and what about me being immortal, MC?"
"Well, did you ever know Merlin?" You tilt your head as Solomon's smile falters for a split second before he fixes it.
"..."
"Solomon?"
"Yes, I knew Merlin."
"Before or after you became a Rat Bastard?" You ask him, eyes trained on his pretty smile. (evil grin)
"Well...I may or may not've been good friends with him..."
"Do you think I could meet him?" You ask, bouncing one of your legs after you sit down on Solomon's workbench.
Solomon moves towards you, something flashing in his eyes for a split second before his hands find their rightful place around your waist. "No."
"Why not?" You pout.
"Because I'm the only famous sorcerer in your life." He states, that something flashing in his eyes once more. Something animalistic. If Solomon was a demon, you were sure his demon form would sprout out.
"What about Maddi?" You raise an eyebrow.
Solomon scoffs. "You hate Maddi. You put on a mask with Michael's face on it, and then tried to drown her in a ditch."
You shrug. "I'm just mad the bitch didn't drown."
"She did damage her oesophagos though." Solomon smiles evilly, actually evilly this time.
"So why can't I meet Merlin. I want his autograph." You bring th conversation back to the topic at hand, your flustered gaze trained to where the Great Sorcerer holds you by the waist possessively.
Solomon scoffs once more, grey eyes narrowed in on you. "And why do you want his autograph?"
"Because he's the greatest sorcerer to ever live? Duh."
Solomon's grip tightens at that. His brows furrow.
"...No he's not." The silver-haired sorcerer replies after an awkward moment of silence.
"Yes he is."
"No he's not." Solomon glares at you, grip tightening once more, it's almost painful. "I can give you my autograph if you yearn for one that badly. End of."
"But-" You pout, eyes flickering with the flame of mischief, wanting to see how far you can take this.
Solomon's eyes snap up and down your body before meeting your gaze, forcefully he moves closer to you, you lean back until he's directly in your face and your back is up against the surface of his workbench.
You feel his hot breath on your ear as he whispers, "The next words out of your mouth better be 'I love you Solomon!' or I'm not hearing them."
Your breath hitches, you suppress a grin, "It's just that-"
"Not hearing it."
"Emrys is just so cool-"
Solomon flicks you on the head for that one. He moves away from your ear so he can look at your face. Grey eyes instinctual and crazed.
"My darling apprentice....you don't want to know where this is headed." The Witty Sorcerer grits out, emphasising the word 'my' like it's an ancient incantation.
You stiffen, you've really done it now. There was no way you could keep teasing your favourite Michelin Star Murderer and come out unscathed.
A dark purple surrounds the sorcerer, are those flames?!
You pout, looking into the crazed feral eyes man who's about to lose control. You'd have to stop being a gremlin and take responsibility.
"Sol...I love you." You say, and you mean it.
And like clockwork, rhe dark purple flamey aura disappears, Solomon's grip loosens on you, he moves a little farther back, allowing you to get up off the surface of the workbench. His usual Rat Bastard smile returns, and the crazy feral look in his eyes diminish, never fully going away.
You raise an eyebrow teasingly, "So that's a no on meeting Merlin?"
Solomon sighs exasperatedly, love ever-present in his expression, "Forget Thirteen, you'll be the death of me."
You laugh, "Back to your Alchemy lesson now?"
Solomon chuckles. "Back to my Alchemy lesson." He nods, taking his hands off of you and walking over to his cauldron.
You follow him like a lost puppy, unaware of the extent of the danger just a few moments ago. Not danger you were in, of course, like Solomon could ever hurt you. But the rest of the realms?....well that's a different story....
Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Never wake a sleeping dragon....
Never underestimate the obsession love that Solomon the Wise has for his Darling Apprentice.
#i headcannon that merlin from bbc merlin is who solomon started the sorcerers society with because im stupid#ignore the fact that this doesnt make sense im so eepy#i was just in the mood for solomon being a dumbass with temper management issues okay#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#obey me imagines#obey me headcanons#obey me mc#omswd#obey me solomon#obey me solomon x reader
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
One thing that I find incredible is how Hazbin always manages to shoot himself in the foot. It's quite obvious that the series strives to show how corrupt and wrong Heaven is by, for example, keeping Adam in his position despite his behavior. It seems that it has become ''common sense'' to say that Adam only entered Heaven because he was the First Man, nepotism, favoritism, blah, blah, blah.
However, the series clearly states that angels DON'T HAVE THE MINIMUM IDEA OF WHAT TAKES A SOUL TO HEAVEN. They only accept and care for the souls that arrive there, they have no control over who goes to Heaven or not. Therefore, Adam could not have been accepted just because of nepotism, as the opinion and desires of the angels do not matter for Divine Judgment. In other words, either Adam deserved Heaven at the time he died or the being making this judgment chose to make him ascend (in the same way he did with Sir Pentius). In other words, the villains of the series are not to blame for what happens in Hell.
The Pride ring does not have a government, Lucifer locked himself in the house being useless and Lilith seems to have tried to bring order to the place but the sinners were so unbearable that she voluntarily preferred to return to Heaven through a contract with Adam. The only thing that Heaven did was the Exterminations and, honestly? In the pilot, the exterminations seemed to be something serious, you could feel the heavy atmosphere in the opening scene. But in the series? It doesn't seem to change much of Hell's routine or differentiate itself from the territorial wars or murders that happen all the time. If hell is the way it is, it is not Heaven's fault, nor Lilith's fault, nor Lucifer's fault, it is all the fault of the sinners themselves.
P.S.: I would like to remind everyone that the Ring of Gluttony and the Ring of Sloth exist, this hell does not work like the Hell of the Abrahamic Traditions, nothing prevents a minimally pleasant place from being built, the Ring of Pride can be summed up in ' 'Hell is other people'', or something like that.
P.S.S.: I still can't believe that Emily called the souls in Hell ''innocent souls'', God, she probably saw what happened to Pentius at the club, saw Valentino and still lets me have this? Not to mention Saint Peter, who went from being one of the most interesting and human apostles (along with Mary Magdalene) to a.....that thing.
#hazbin hotel critical#viviziepop crital#anti hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel criticism#hazbin hotel critique#viviziepop critique#anti viviziepop
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝑀𝑜𝓁𝓁𝓎 𝒪’𝓈𝒽𝑒𝒶
the character overlook part 2!!
this is going to be shorter but i still want my yap (spoilers it’s not im passionate about this), spoiler heavy for chapter 4-6
i’m not really proof reading any of this so sorry if anything’s wrong please tell me
🪞before i say anything i want to point out a bit of dialogue between sean and molly
m - i dont have much opinion on you
s - ah but you don’t like me, i can see it in your eyes
m- i don’t know what you’re talking about mr macguire
s - but you look down your pretty little stuck up nose at me
m - i guess i didn’t come to america to meet boys who crawled out of the local bog. when i could have paid them to sweep my chimneys at home
s - i knew it. you’re a snotty nosed little west briton
m - i am no such thing
s - ‘course you are, i see it now. you probably have a family with a big farmhouse and titles
💋 i want to bring this up for a few reasons
1. sean is one of the only characters in camp proud of his heritage, molly is quite superficial and she doesn’t talk much about it, kieran doesn’t know much about his heritage and doesn’t know how to pronounce colm even though kieran was with the o’driscolls
2. he calls her a “little west briton” which usually means an irish person who greatly admires England or Britain, thinking them superior to Ireland
3. i said in my last post that i assumed molly became well off from. a family business in agriculture
🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧
💋now i don’t have much to say about her outfits here because of the fact that they stay the same so i’ll talk more about her and dutch
💋from shady bell onwards molly really starts to loose it and there’s more and more arguments between the two of them at one point she screams that he ruined her life
💋molly starts getting really paranoid, she sits at one of the docks by herself and karen even tries to comfort her in her own drunken way even when molly approaches her and confronts karen about talking about her (i’m not entirely sure if she actually did) molly smacks karen, karen hits her back harder and molly storms off to behind the house
💋i feel molly starts to realise she is the fool that everyone calls her for falling for dutch, and there’s a held sentiment that dutch probably never loved anyone more than annabelle and molly was more of a distraction with a pretty face
💋walking around shady belle, molly is usually found sulking in the corners of the house on her knees with her head down, i’d also like to put out there that in their room one one side of the bed is disturbed
💋i think kieran’s death was a way to put into perspective how the gang was falling apart molly asking arthur how this is allowed to happen
🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧
💋molly is absent at the end of chapter 5 and i’m not entirely sure that people really questioned it at all (i was obviously trying and failing to find my wife)
🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧
💋now let’s get into the deep shit of the start of beaver hollow
💋molly is clearly drunk back in her casual outfit with her blue shirt, which i think personally is how she felt more comfortable in
💋she curses out dutch and says that she told milton about the saint denis robbery
💋i think she went through the realisation when she was away of dutch’s complex about himself, calling him “your majesty” or “master” when she makes fun of him
💋dutch talks a lot about loyalty and having faith and him and miss grimshaw carry the sentiment that she broke the rules
💋miss grimshaw shoots molly, and i think, though i love molly, she is my wife, it was the last nail on the coffin that when molly died she sees dutch, the only person she thought liked, even loved her, looking disappointed in her
💋she also didn’t get a proper burial and got burned
🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧
(only doing positive ones bc that’s what my baby deserves)
💋 karen’s the most aggressive after mollys death as she holds a grudge to miss grimshaw, calling her a filthy murderer and saying that she probably liked doing it, karen had seen (imo) that molly just wanted dutch’s attention and she was blinded by love
💋 i personally hold a grudge too but she seemed remorseful that she did it because she had to
💋 abigail feels guilty but they’re still under the pretence that she ratted on them
💋 charles says he feels bad even though he didn’t know her well
💋 strauss, though i think he probably did not gaf he actually includes molly in him saying the camps falling apart
💋 marybeth just feels guilty about her, saying that she doesn’t believe it, she probably said that in the way of she couldn’t believe that mollys dead but i’d like to think she also didn’t think that molly did it
💋 swanson says she’ll be in his prayers
💋though i’d like to add dutch’s reaction to yknow the supposed lover of him saying that he shoulda cut her off ages ago
🩰𓈒⋆⑅˚₊୨୧
💋i feel like people forget that milton tells arthur they couldn’t get anything out of molly , if you know micah is the rat you have to know molly isn’t
💋 off topic but i want to say i also saw someone say mary (linton) was one of the rats, i feel like people forget that mary knew arthur was never going to change for her, her missions never affects the plot, she’s always going to send the infamous letter at the start or beaver hollow, she never changed the ending you can not help her and never talk to her again and there’s still the same ending it’s all micah
@lovearthur since you got tagged in the last one 🫶🏼
#lesbian#bambiitalks#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#wlw blog#molly o'shea#molly oshea#karen jones#abigail roberts#abigail marston#sean macguire#dutch van der linde#arthur morgan#micah bell#ill treat u better molly oshea
22 notes
·
View notes
Note
i have seen people claim that the situation with brienne will be the thing that pushes jaime back to cersei. also I have seen people compare what brienne is going through with stoneheart to what jaime went through with aerys and saying brienne may need to put her down
I am the second people and not the first people but like….
I don’t wanna sound rude or anything but with this fandom I feel like no one grasps the point of occam’s razor like sorry but
- jaime spends affc getting progressively away from cers and burns her letter at the end when in agot he’d have dropped everything to run there
- jaime in adwd barely thinks about her and goes like eh ig i’ll have to see her again ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and runs off with brienne
- as i am people 2… listen brienne is having the EXACT same aerys situation except worse because like aerys always was a pos and jaime hated him for two years and never gaf about him beyond he’s the king, cat was literally the first woman to treat brienne properly and like a human being and like she RESPECTED her and trusting her with being her liege lady and gave her her first knight job so to speak, also cat was a generally nice person (OVERALL the jon thing doesn’t count but to brienne cat was a good thing) and became a zombie after being horrifically murdered like….. sorry but brienne having to murder her former liege lady gone mad out of grief because she’s out of control and is killing innocents when she cares about cat and knows she was a good person before is like…. kind of hitting worse than killing a guy whom you’ve hated for two years and gave you trauma you know
- also like everyone is conveniently glossing over the fact that brienne would have rather died than killed jaime on cat’s orders and only agreed to it bc she didnt wanna drag two innocent ppl in it but like sorry i think the above + your crazy liege lady wanting to kill the man you love who is also fulfilling a vow to HER together with you is a mindfuck
- also everyone conveniently glosses over the fact that what fucked jaime for good was people not even asking why he killed aerys and deciding he was a pos not the actual killing
- so like…… let’s say jaime from adwd with all the char development finds out that brienne almost died for him (if someone from the brotherhood doesn’t tell him she screamed his name at night i’ll be surprised) and sees her kill cat in front of him BECAUSE she doesn’t want him to die and only dragged him there to save two innocent people
- that’s a jaime who has OBVIOUSLY done some self reflection in the last two books and actually sounded his age in the povs or at least not like he was stuck at 17
- at this point he either could see brienne going through the aeryslike ordeal that HE went through (and is therefore in a position to help her that NO ONE ELSE HAS bc HE knows how it feels that’s it), he’d know that it was for HIM (doubt he has a line of ppl around who are willing to die for him and go as far as almost getting hanged) and he’d see it happen to someone he considers a true knight and HIS protector (like i can go off on that for a year but nvm it now). he’s this close to figure out he wants her to make a honest man out of him…. and THAT could tip him off, AND he could help her not turn into a bitter cynic the way he did, and they could get closer and he could see that the person who saved his ass and looked out for him when they didnt even like each other actually WENT THROUGH IT for him so much she WENT AGAINST HER VOWS when it was the most important thing in the world to her AND at that point they could figure out together that vows should be taken sparsely and meaningfully AND they could fulfill theirs to cat together in her memory…..
- or he can get pissed off and go back to cersei when like he DIDNT fuck off when everyone he’s known for his entire life failed him and that was never enough to make him say well fuck you i’m not coming back until he learned cers cheated on him
like………… if thematically the first one doesn’t seem to people like the most sensed outcome of everything jaime has done since now and of his arc so far okay but then idk what to tell them because at this point is shooting at the red cross as we say here
and anyway without going into that whole bullshit: at the last adwd chapter when cers and kevan talk and she asks where jaime is and dismisses that he’d ever go with brienne over her…. she says he’s been missing for WEEKS and the riverlands aren’t the wall, if he wanted to go back to cers after brienne’s supposed betrayal he’d have been back in camp already and if he had been dead people would have known at that point so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ if people want to do the math without counting that stuff in their prerogative but like idg the point of denying the obvious at this rate
#ask post#megashadowdragon#jaime x brienne#anti-jaime x cersei#anti-lannincest#anti-cersei lannister#anti cersei lannister#like my people i don't give a damn about jon*rys and ik it'll be somewhat canon at this rate#but like do y'all see me grasping at straws to justify it not happening no#queue of the beam
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Klaroline WIP Wednesday: Those Violent Eyes Ch5
(Klaroline peeps please tell me if I'm doing this wrong, it's my first time trying WIP Wed)
TW: Very brief mentions of past SA
He muses out loud, more so to himself than Stefan, “We could imprison him? I happen to have some options beneath the manor that should do nicely for now.”
“Imprison him until when? He’s obsessed with Katherine, he won’t just give up on the idea.”
Klaus waves a hand, “Until it’s appropriate to kill him.” He says flippantly. “Weeks, decades, centuries, who knows?” He shoots Stefan a pointed look, then, “Your brother’s days are numbered, ripper. He lives because I allow him to, but I will tire of that eventually.”
Comprehension dawns on Stefan’s face, and the hybrid realizes he’s given too much away. “Because of Caroline. You’re keeping him alive until she gives you permission to kill him.” It’s not entirely the truth, but too close for comfort, regardless. Stefan smiles then, tone friendly, “You like her.”
He’s brought back to his upbringing, and Mikael’s wicked glee whenever he’d find a weakness in his least favorite son. His ‘father’ could poke at anything that touched a nerve until the words hurt almost as much as the blows, all without ever losing that hint of sadistic pleasure that came with causing his distress.
Klaus won’t allow Caroline to be poked at.
“Your brother is a rapist.” He says slowly, “I don’t have to like her to want him dead.”
Stefan only smiles wider, eyes sparkling in amusement. “No, but you’d have to at least respect her to wait for her permission to kill him.”
He raises an eyebrow at that, “Your bar for what constitutes as respect is pitifully low.”
The ripper shrugs, allowing him to relax slightly (though he suspects they will be revisiting this conversation at a later date). “Maybe. Anyway, we can imprison Damon until you kill him, but that might raise some questions. He’s friends with the town Sheriff, they have lunch together every week.” He pauses, noting the scowl on Klaus’s face with a healthy degree of trepidation, “If he goes missing, she’ll catch on.”
Klaus Mikaelson is not a good man. He will be the first to admit that. Not with pride, but not with shame either. It’s an intrinsic truth, one his mother knew long before he did, one that he stopped trying to outrun the day his Wolf was bound. Klaus is objectively a terrible person, a questionable brother, and a monster among monsters. He murdered his own mother, for crying out loud. But the very thought of befriending a woman like the sheriff, laughing with her while committing unspeakable crimes towards her beloved daughter in the shadows? Pretending to be her ally, while you destroy the one person most dear to her on this earth, and ensure she’s none the wiser? All for no apparent benefit, aside from blood and your own twisted amusement?
Klaus is not a good man. But there exist evils he isn’t capable of.
Something snaps inside of him, dark and foreboding. “You wouldn’t happen to mean Sheriff Elizabeth Forbes, would you?” At Stefan’s answering nod, he feels a startling clarity wash over him. There’s no seeing red, no fiery hatred, no bloodlust. Instead, he feels swept underwater, awash with a bone-deep chill the likes of which he hasn’t felt since his last winter as a human. Idly, he wonders if this icy, detached thirst for vengeance weaving its way through him is what Elijah feels on a daily basis. He’s always been the hot-headed, mercurial one of his siblings, and he prefers it that way, but perhaps there’s something to be said about this cold, calculating fury. “Change of plans, then. I have a much better idea.” He unlocks his phone again, scrolling to another contact, “You might want to book a hotel for tonight, preferably under a different name”, he says, typing away. Stefan says something in response, but the sound is garbled and far away as he hits send.
#klaroline wip wed#klaroline#caroline forbes#klaus mikaelson#the vampire diaries#my fic writing#those violent eyes#klaroline fanfiction#fanfiction#wip#stefan salvatore
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sorrow / All Titans x reader / (Headcanons)
────────────────────────────
Your sad mood greatly affects the Titans. Let's see what they will do in such situations
Sorry for the English
────────────────────────────
Godzilla
* I think he will cheer you up in every way. Starting from a gentle poke of the muzzle in the back and ending with swimming on the ocean in order to somehow develop your head, clouded from despondency.
* If you do ask to be alone while he is trying to calm you down, he will do it. Of course, the Titan will not take its eyes off you.
* In another situation, when you
want to share your problem, then Godzilla will listen to you carefully.
Although he doesn't really understand human problems and how big they are for you, he will still try to give you the best advice.
* Or you can make it simpler. Take a nap with him in the colosseum. In the event that helicopters infiltrate the lair, its tail will push them out of the way if a warning growl does not help.
Mothra/Mosura
* With this Moth, we can already consider that all problems are solved. It understands the magnitude of your burden, soothing you with a soft chirp that caresses your mind.
* Go to her for advice, as if to a psychologist. But you don't need any money or anything else for this.
Just give her a happy smile.
* Mothra, the whole personification of her own Mother. Do you want a hug? A kiss on the back of the head? Anything, sunshine.
The main thing is your joy at the moment.
Because it hurts her to watch your sad face, from which bitter tears are almost dripping.
* But if you need solitude and just to reflect on yourself, she will give it. Just don't draw harsh conclusions.
In any case, stay with her and share everything that disturbs your soul.
Rodan
* I don't think that you can somehow come to despondency with him. Joke after joke and all despairs are forgotten in an instant.
* You automatically develop laughter at the sight of him. Even if he does something normal for both of you, you still giggle quietly.
Rodan is too charismatic, that's all.
* But if you're really desperate, which even Rodan can't remove. There is already an emergency here. Titan panics and just doesn't know where to go. Since he is not too good at advice and in the end you have to calm him down, not you.
Which makes you really laugh.
* This Kaiju is not stupid enough to raise his problems above yours. He will remember the moments and words you said during his bad mood. How they supported and praised.
But there are great difficulties with the council.
* Rodan still wants to help you, despite his flaws, which he hides behind a wall of humor.
King Ghidorah
* First of all, who? And secondly, who to destroy? Such questions haunt you when these Three notice your depressed mood.
Ni intends to kill those offenders in the same way as Ichi, who can't see your sad face. These two do not seem to understand at all what to do, except for bloody murders.
If only Kevin purrs your side in his own way, trying to cheer you up.
* When they find out your reason for being sad, they are a little confused. Especially because there is no such person who has morally ruined you. It's just your problem that ruined your mood.
* But. These three are ready to listen to you at any time. And it doesn't matter if it's a big problem or a stupid one. Just cheer up with the cold breeze around Ichi's neck and fly to create storms over cities, spilling out emotions.
The rest will pass.
* Although they are cruel, they have interesting ways to send joy.
King Kong
* He knows how to support. Of course, he also does not understand half of it, but he gets away with saying something nice about you.
If it weren't for Jia...
Which also once, no, still supports him in certain situations.
* Kong can also pat you on the head, although it is more like ruffling your hair in different directions, from which you have to spit out.
But this is not bad, it lifts the mood.
* If you need to be alone, then good. He understands this and knows what it is like to want to be alone for a while. Just be careful.
* Kong is also good at advice to some extent. The main thing here is for you to understand what this Titan is trying to convey to you.
Shimo
* This girl already understands everything and accepts all your heavy burden. Your sad mood greatly disturbs this Titan, she just can't help but turn
* But sometimes you are ashamed to talk about your problems, given the situation in which your companion found herself. Moreover, she was able to survive it and walks around with a fresh memory about it.
* Her eyes are too charming... Especially the muzzle, which leans to the side in an interesting way. You just can't keep sharing your problems when you have such a miracle in front of you. All thoughts just float behind your back.
* Shimo gently nudges you to the side as a sign of support. Convincing that all problems will pass over time, the main thing is not to go down and not to lose self-control.
* If everything is really bad for you, then she will allocate a whole day and night for you. Share, complain. Whatever you want.
She will listen to you attentively, purring.
────────────────────────────
#godzilla x kong the new empire#godzilla#godzilla x reader#Mothra x reader#Rodan x reader#King Ghidorah x reader#King kong x reader#Shimo x reader#Titans x reader#Xreader#Xhuman#monsterverse#godzilla monsterverse
23 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
johndexa4
JOHNDEXA
micrrosoft
micro's simping for, transfomers
demisexual-culture-is
Demisexual Culture Is…
slavresistance-blog
Against SLAV
slavresistance-blog
Against SLAV