#At least not up until the end and that's when their relationship ends because the illusion of being in it together was what was keeping the

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 LOVERS ROCK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: there are very few things that leave dazai osamu at a loss for answers. you are one of them. more specifically, it's your relationship (is this a relationship?) with him that has him so disconcerted, and dazai is getting to his breaking point.

(wordcount: 3.6k; nsfw [kind of, very suggestive so will label nsfw], ada!reader, dazai has SEVERE trust issues & paranoia, this is set like half a year after he joined the ada, dazai also has a bad relationship with sex that is mentioned in his narration, he is terrible at communication too, accidentally hurts reader a little [nothing major])

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hiiiiiii guys <.< so i'm actually really proud of this ehehe. this is a universe that i'm tempted to expand on like wykyk, but we'll see.

Dazai hates giving up control. 

Ever since he was a kid, he’s been hyper-independent. First with his family, because they were never around and he had to learn to be self-sufficient otherwise he’d die a slow, painful death. Then in the Port Mafia, he quickly learned that asking for help is a weakness and being dependent on others is a vulnerability that people would take advantage of to subvert his influence and usurp his position as an underboss. As long as he’s remembered, it was all but a death sentence to rely on any other than himself. 

It wasn't until he became a member of the Agency that he finally began to allow himself to depend on others—banking on Ranpo and his mind, Kunikida and his ideals, Yosano and her tenacity. But even then, he never allowed himself to lose complete control over a situation, drawing things out in a way that would always leave him with a firm hand guiding the chess board. 

Until he met you, at least.

He wasn’t sure what made you so different—he still isn’t entirely sure, it’s a thought that frequently plagues him, and because of it, he can never allow himself to be fully comfortable with you. You joined the Agency a month after him with lips that spoke pretty words and gave him even prettier smiles. You’d been kind to everyone, but Dazai likes to think you were especially kind to him. Maybe it was just his imagination, but Dazai liked the idea of it.

Well, he didn’t at first. 

In fact, he was rather hostile to it. To you. The longing he felt for the casual, soft touches you laid upon the other members of the Agency felt more like a weakness than anything else. It scared him. He’d never desired anything of the sort before, he’d always been okay on his own—thrived in it, really—and now he was suddenly seeking you out at all hours of the day, and he didn’t even fully understand why. Every time he sought you out, it ended poorly with him saying something uncalled for and your expression twisting as you tried to hide your hurt. 

And yet he still continued to seek you out. He made the same mistake over and over again: constantly forcing himself into your space after getting jealous watching you doll out casual affection to the other detectives, waiting for you to give him the same attention, and then lashing out in some manner when you finally did.

He supposed it didn’t help that Dazai was uncomfortable in general with people touching him, which naturally made him even more hostile because why was he longing for something that made him uncomfortable? 

He also still isn’t sure how you managed to break through all of his walls—or why you even persisted when it became clear that he was at best incompetent when it comes to dealing with real emotions, and at worst, borderline malicious. 

But you did. And it scared him. Scares him.

Dazai lets out a shaky breath when he feels your lips ghost against his neck, fingers twisting the sheets below him. Your hands are sliding against his sides, gentle and soothing, and a part of him wants to melt into the sheets while another part of him wants to flip the two of you around, press you back down into the mattress and rip control over the situation back from you.

As if you can sense his conflict—maybe you can, Dazai has come to realize that unlike everyone else at the Agency, who he can fool with his mask of exaggerated dramatics and clownlike behavior, that you had somehow learned how to see right through him—you pause for the sparest moment and trace your lips back up his neck to brush them against his own, soft and comforting, as if to soothe his discord.

And it works somehow. Dazai doesn’t know how you do it because he can’t even quell his own mind when it starts to spin out of control, but the brush of your lips against his is enough to ground him again. 

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, eyes searching his face for the answers that he knew his lips might not give.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice rough and cracking over the word. 

He thinks maybe a part of it is the way you always check on him to make sure he’s doing alright. For Dazai, sex has only ever been transactional—he was young when he was first carted off to a whorehouse so he could be taught how to use his body for intel and other miscellaneous advantages. No matter how hard he tried to enjoy it, he always found it to be underwhelming at best and loathsome at worst. And he did try to enjoy it, he forced himself to seek out women in his free time to try to learn to enjoy the activity that so many other people seem to find comfort and pleasure in. 

It wasn’t until you that he could.

His first time with you was earth shattering. He’s not exaggerating when he says it completely altered his perspective on intimacy. It was embarrassing, almost—he remembers giving you quick, flirty smiles, and he remembers the sly comments he whispered to you at the bar the members of the Agency were at to celebrate Yosano’s birthday. 

He knew that morning that he wanted you in his bed by nightfall—partly because he thought it would get you out of his system, that maybe all he needed was a good fuck to stop acting like he was brainless whenever you were around, and partly because he was curious. He was curious to know if that genuine demeanor of yours continued behind closed doors, or if it was all just a mask you liked to put up in public. 

Dazai’s hands were on you before the two of you even left for the night—they were creeping up your inner thigh, lingering on your bicep, he was resting his chin on your shoulder as he stood behind you, warding off any man that might try to approach you with cold looks you couldn’t catch. Eventually, like he planned, you asked him if he wanted to go back to your apartment, and Dazai agreed, of course, eager to get his questions answered. Eager to free himself of whatever shackles you’ve put on him.

And it all went downhill from there.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask again, frown deepening and hands stilling on his waist when you don’t find an answer you like on his face.

Dazai tries to play it off—you’re here for sex, not all of his unstable thoughts. He gives you a practiced smile and slips his hand under your shirt to rest on your lower back, pulling you firmer against him—an easy tactic, one of the first he learned to distract his partner when he slips up.

He should have known better than to think you would fall for it.

Instead of returning to the lingering line of kisses you were leaving on his neck, you sit back to study him, and Dazai feels seen. He shifts under your scrutinizing gaze, averting his eyes to the ceiling and counting the seconds that pass as he waits for you to ask that dreaded question. 

“What's wrong?” you ask him quietly.

Dazai can evade it. He knows that he can—even if the sex is ruined, because he knows you’re not going to have sex with him if you think something is wrong, he can evade this question by refusing to answer. You never press it, although sometimes your lips curve down in a disappointed frown that makes him feel even worse than before.

But Dazai finds himself hesitating.

“I-“ he starts to say before cutting himself off abruptly, horrified by the realization that he was just about to admit to you what he was thinking. “Nothing.” 

The anticipation that had sprung to your eyes when he started to speak dissipates when he blows you off, and it makes his chest tighten. He feels your thighs tense and knows you’re about to get off of him, so his hands fly to your hips to keep you in place.

“Something,” he corrects, voice just a little too raspy for comfort. “… Something.”

You settle back down on top of him, tilting your head to the side. 

“Tell me?” you offer quietly, your hands drop to his arms, sliding up and down the bandages that cover his forearms slowly. Soothingly. He hates it.

“I just don’t understand this,” Dazai admits. “It’s… confusing.”

It's possibly the first time he’s ever spoken these words out loud. It’s a weakness he’s never allowed anyone to be aware of—even when Dazai has no idea what’s going on, he’s careful to put up an impenetrable facade of confidence, one that even the keenest eyes can’t see through.

And here he is, bare of masks and facades, admitting his weakness plainly to someone who could easily take advantage of it.

Oh.

“This as in…?” you prompt with a pondering frown.

Is that it?

“This,” he repeats more insistently as his mind races. “Us.”

You, he accuses silently.

You have the ability to destroy him. Dazai realizes, disconcerted, that this is what is confusing him. He's allowed himself to be weak in front of you. He's lowered all of his guards. He's let you in through his many walls of defenses. You’ve settled down in the treacherous beating thing in his chest that he’s tried to rip out too many times to count, and Dazai waits for you to take advantage of it. He waits for this to go wrong. Waits for you to prove yourself to be a Trojan Horse in the form of dazzling smiles and a beautiful face. 

But you don’t, and that’s what Dazai just can’t understand. He doesn’t understand what you’re getting out of this—he knows what he’s getting out of it. He’s getting comfort, he’s able to pretend he’s capable of being loved, he gets you. But you’re not getting anything out of this, so he feels like he’s just been biding time before the other shoe drops.

“… What about us do you not understand?” You sound perplexed, and it agitates Dazai. Worse, you can tell it agitates him because immediately you run your thumb over the pulse point on his wrist to soothe him. You add quickly with a small smile, “I'm not understanding now, help me?”

It is beyond disconcerting that even though he knows it was a ploy to distract and soothe him, it works anyway. Dazai needs to do something about this.

“What do you get out of this?” Dazai decides to ask the question plainly instead of dancing around his words, partially because of the agitation and partially because he just needs an answer. Desperately. “What do you get out of what’s going on between us? I don't understand why you keep agreeing to meet me, why you initiate it sometimes. I need to know what it is you get."

Sex is transactional—it always is. Each party has to get something out of it, and if you don't know what the other is getting, then you have made a perilous mistake somewhere along the line. Dazai has known this since the beginning, but he allowed himself too long to bask blindly in the comfort of your arms and bed. He can’t keep doing this without knowing what you’re getting, It’ll come back to haunt him.

You’re still confused by his question even with the explanation, he can see it in the way the thoughts race behind your eyes as you try to piece it together. 

Eventually you settle on a smile that’s almost playful as you answer with, “You?”

Dazai’s frown deepens at your words, his expression becomes a bit colder. He thinks you’re evading the question because you don’t want to answer it, and that’s dangerous. You joined the Armed Detective Agency not long after him—were you a plant sent to get close to him by one of his old enemies? By Mori? His thoughts start to spiral dangerously. These are questions he should’ve been having months ago when you first joined the Agency, not now. 

“What are you really getting?” His grip on your hips tightens. “Tell me. Stop avoiding the question.”

Your expression becomes a bit more alarmed when he closes off from you, he thinks maybe his grip on your hips might be painful from your wince but he can’t afford to let go until he has his answer. 

“You, Dazai,” you say again, more insistently this time. “I get you. I get to spend time with you. be with you. That’s what I get.”

“But why?” Dazai presses, raising his voice, holding you tighter. He is hurting you now, he can tell from the way you try to bat his hands away, but he couldn’t let go if he wanted to. His blood pressure is rising as he realizes how badly he might have messed up. All of Ango’s efforts—Odasaku’s last request—all down the drain because of one mistake. “Why? What information are you trying to get? Who sent you? Who are you work-“

“What?” you demand. The confusion in your eyes is almost believable—Dazai thinks you must’ve been sent by someone important if you’re this good of an actress. His thoughts track back to Mori and his mind starts to fog with fury. “Who sent me? What are you-Dazai-I want you because I care about you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

The fog clears, Dazai stares at you blankly, hands loosening on your hips. He's not sure he heard you correctly, so he says: “What did you just say?”

Your expression softens a bit, and you repeat, “I care about you. I want you because I care about you.”

“No, you don’t,” Dazai says immediately. Instinctually.

“Yes, I do.” Dazai has never seen you get irritated before, but your face twists when he instantly denies your words. “I do, Dazai.”

“You don’t,” he insists. “You can’t. You don’t even know me, you don't care about me.”

He thinks he almost would have preferred that you had some ulterior motive to this. He hates the way his chest swells with hope—hope is dangerous, more dangerous than any other emotion. Fear, anger, sadness, none of it compares to the light that tries to bloom within his rotted chest. He tries to cut it off before it can spread, but it’s notoriously hard to snuff out; it clings to anything it can get a hold on even as he tries to push it away. 

The idea is… more tempting than he expected. It’s concerning, that should be enough to clear his head, but it’s not. His fingers cling to your shirt desperately, he searches your face, trying to find the sparest indication that you may be lying.

He finds none.

Still, Dazai knows better. He knows this won’t last. you’ll find out who he was, all of the things he did, and then you’ll leave him. You’ll see him for what he is, and you’ll leave him. This will never last. 

Nothing good ever does for him. 

“But I do care about you,” you insist, and you’re cruel now, because you reach out to cup his cheek and Dazai leans into your touch. He can’t help himself from it. “I care about you deeply, Dazai.”

“You can’t,” he repeats, and to his horror, his voice wavers. “You don’t know who I am, you don’t know what I’ve done, and when you do-“

“We all have skeletons in our closet, Dazai,” you interrupt him quietly. “I don't think there’s a single ability user out there that doesn’t. I don't need to know your past to know I care about you.”

That’s not true, he wants to say, but can’t force the words out. Instead, he says hoarsely, “It would change how you see me. I'm not who you think I am. I’m-”

A monster. A demon. His blood is black—has been since the day he was born, will be until the day he dies. He is not someone who should be cared for. He's someone who should be left to rot, someone the world would be better off without. He doesn’t deserve this, not when there are so many other people in the world who are unfailingly good and do deserve it. 

“It won’t,” you say again, but Dazai knows it’s not true, you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know how awful he is. You don’t give him the chance to protest though. “I care about who you are today. I care about who you are tomorrow. The day after tomorrow. Not who you were months ago. The past is the past, Dazai, leave it there.”

“It's not that simple,” he rasps. 

“It can be,” you say softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear, “if you let it.”

“It can’t be that simple,” he disagrees. There’s an odd lilt to the voice—pleading, almost, begging you not to give him hope only to rip it away when the truth inevitably comes to light. “It can’t.”

“It can for us,” you tell him again, and Dazai finds himself believing you. Wanting to believe you. Wanting to believe things can just be that simple. That easy. 

“Why?” Dazai breathes out, eyes searching your face for answers. “Why me? Why not someone…”

Someone better. Someone good. Someone deserving. 

“Because you’re you,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, you lean down to ghost your lips against his and it fogs his brain with a pleasant warmth he’s only ever felt with you. “Do I need a reason more than that?”

Dazai wants to say yes, because him being him is a reason for you to not want him. He’s despicable, he’s cruel, he lashed out at you for weeks all the while forcing himself into your space because he wanted to be near you but didn’t understand why. 

“I love your smile,” you say, thumb running along his bottom lip, “and I love even more when I’m the reason for it.”

“But-“

“And I love your eyes,” you continue, fingers trailing up his face to trace under his eyes. “I think they’re the prettiest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.”

“I know that’s not true,” he rasps—he knows very well that his eyes are unnerving, too black and too empty. People have been unable to look him in the eye for long even when he was a kid. “I-“

“But most of all, it’s just you,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. “You make me happy. I like being around you. I always look forward to the time we get to spend together—missions, at work, after work. I’ll take you in whatever way I can get, Dazai.”

You don’t let him avert his gaze this time, you force him to look at you, force him to see the truth of your words reflected in the adoration on your face. No one has ever looked at him like this before, and it makes him feel bare. Seen. He’s always felt seen with you, but never like this.

“I was… mean to you.” He still tries to argue with you, lashes fluttering shut. “I was cruel for months because-“

You laugh at him. “Mean? You were like a puppy trying to snap at my hand to scare me off.”

Dazai gapes. “A puppy?” he demands, seriously offended. “Don’t compare me to a dog. I’m more like a… A…”

“A…?” you press, a pretty smile flickering at your lips.

“A panther,” he supplies confidently.

“A kitten,” you correct.

Dazai groans dramatically, flinging his head back, but he finds himself smiling. He finds his chest full of warmth, light and bubbly, and when he looks back up at you to meet your eyes, he finds the same emotion swimming on your face. He thinks again that no one has ever looked at him like this before—not with such fondness, not with adoration, not with…

No, Dazai doesn’t dare think that word.

“I care about you too,” he admits. He’s hesitant, like he’s scared to say the words out loud.

“Even with all of the skeletons hidden in my closet?” you tease, leaning down to brush your lips against his again, and then a second time, and then a third. He basks in it, eyes sliding shut as you kiss him gently—it takes a few moments for your words to register.

“They’re not worse than mine,” he replies, the pads of his fingers running up and down your thighs absently. After a couple of seconds pass, he asks, “… What skeletons do you have?”

You tilt your head to the side and say playfully, “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Dazai isn’t ready for that, so he just tosses you a smile and a wink before murmuring, “How about you show me something else instead?”

You laugh at that, tossing your head back and giggling so genuinely that your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the sound. His lips part to make another suggestive comment, but he finds himself breathless at the sight of you. 

You’re beautiful, and Dazai can’t help but think again that he doesn’t deserve this. You.

“Deal,” you agree.

This time when you lean down to press your lips against his, Dazai’s hands are content to rest on your thighs. His fingers don’t itch to wrangle control from you, and his mind isn’t plagued with paranoia-induced thoughts.

He thinks, maybe, that he can get used to this. Used to you.

[lemmesayimyourbiggestfan]

frontman x reader whos a player but not because of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun and ju-hon and got in the limousine and then in-ho falls in love with her and gets her out of the game with him like at the end of the season

can u also like not write it like a hate love relationship? like readers conflicted but still likes in-ho

Keeping you safe

Hwang In-ho x reader

hiii, pleasure writing your request! hope it’s the way you imagined :)

Word count: 3,3k

Warnings: violence, murder,…

Requests are open! i would also like to write something about Jun-ho or the salesman, so hmu

When you jumped into the limousine after Gi-hun you didn’t consider its consequences. Jun-ho trusted you to keep your eyes on Gi-hun at all costs and you were going to keep your word, even when it meant making yourself vulnerable.

The gas was sweet on your tongue and Gi-hun already slumped down on the plush leather of the limo seats. But you were wide awake, somehow defying sleep’s influence, shaking, still processing what the deep voice implied and Gi-hun demanded. “Put me in the game. But leave her out of it.”

Those words were followed by a dry laugh. You knew that meant there was no way out of it now. You started whispering into the intercom to Jun-ho, saying how sorry you were. His panicked voice was cut off by you turning off the device while you prepared yourself for the Frontman’s reaction, closing your eyes and taking shallow breaths.

“No. Those are my games and my rules. Might make them more interesting, don’t you agree, player 456?”

Then the gas started rising up from the floor. Gi-hun grabbed your hand, rumbling about how sorry he was. You smiled wearily, pressing his hand. “It’s okay, Gi-hun.” You both knew it wasn’t. It was as far from ‘okay’ as possible.

His fingers went limp and you resigned, waiting for the inevitable. With muted senses you watched the tinted protection shield go down. Behind it was the man in the mask himself, looking at you over his shoulder. Just when his gloved hand hovered over his mask, shrugging it off, you were engulfed in darkness.

***

After the first game, you thought that nothing could surprise you anymore. As much as Gi-hun tried to keep you from all the bloodshed, even he couldn’t cover your eyes and ears every time there was a gunshot. Still pale and shaken, digging dirt and blood from beneath your nails, you sat on your bed with the provided food in your lap, watching your surroundings. At least Gi-hun could be happy he found here his long lost friend, with whom he was now talking. You still didn’t speak to anyone else. You were scared that if you did, they would be dead by tomorrow.

You barely noticed there was any commotion until the sudden silence peaked your interest. There was a skirmish between three guys, two of them working together, which made the outcome of the fight quite obvious. There was another player stalking towards the group, trying to break up the fight.

“I said save the lecture for your own damn kids.” one of the guys shouted at him. That’s when you noticed the player’s still frame, like a cat before launching at its prey. And you were right; within a blink of an eye, he put both of the guys on their backs, not even breaking a sweat. You looked closer at him, reading the number 001 on his back. Even from afar you could see how deadly calm he was while choking one of them. After a moment the rage left his body and he released his grip. You didn’t expect the applause that followed his actions. You exchanged a look with Gi-hun. Were you the only one who sensed something foreboding?

You turned your attention back to the food in your lap and decided that even though you weren’t hungry, you desperately needed the energy. But in your mind, all you could think about was the player 001. Was he a police detective like Jun-ho or a former marine like Jung-bae or Dae-ho? Or something else entirely?

It took you a while to get out of your head and notice that his bed was right next to yours. With a sigh, player 001 sat down, grabbing his unfinished food. Just then he noticed your searching look and gave you a tentative smile.

“Hello, sir,” you began, looking down at your hands. A sudden wave of nervousness came over you. “I’m Y/N. Do you mind telling me your name?”

“No bother, Y/N,” he replied and you stared at his lips, at how perfectly they formed your name. “I’m Young-il. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” you grinned at him in response, holding out your hand that he tentatively shook.

“Nice moves there,” you pointed your chin to the middle of the dormitory where the fight took place. “You could teach me if you had time, I’m terrible in combat.” A lie. Jun-ho himself taught you how to hold yourself and how to hold a gun. You were just trying to find out who Young-il was.

“If we have time, yes.” he nodded absentmindedly, scooping up a mouthful of rice.

“Do you mind me asking? I was just wondering if you have any children.” you said carefully.

“No, I don't.” Young-il replied, suddenly his gaze sharp.

“Well, I just thought that, based on your reaction to what that other player told you-“ you searched for the answer in his closely guarded expression. “You lost your child, didn’t you?”

Young-il didn’t say anything to that, his cutlery going limp in his hand.

“I just- I’d know that look anywhere. I know it’s not something to bond over,” you gave a startled laugh, fidgeting under his everlasting gaze, “but if you’d like to talk about it-“

“Thank you.” He reached out and squeezed your hand. His touch was calloused and warm. “I mean it.”

You smiled softly, squeezing his fingers in response. “I know.”

Preparing yourself for lights out, you couldn’t ignore his lingering gaze following your movements. Thankfully Gi-hun approached you and sat next to you on the bed, guilt visible in his expression.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to drag you into this. And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe-“

“Don’t worry about that, sir. I can take care of myself. Anyways, I was only following Jun-ho’s orders. It had nothing to do with you.”

Unconvinced, Gi-hun sighed and moved to his own bed, not having the energy at the moment to argue with you. You finally lay down, moving the thin blanket over your body, curling up on your side.

“I overheard you talking about Jun-ho, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar that name sounds to me,” Young-il broke the silence, looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, he used to work as a police detective so that’s why you might know him.”

“Oh, yes, that might be possible,” Young-il gave you a restrained smile. “And he is to you-?”

“A friend. I used to work as a secretary in his department, that’s all.” you smiled back.

“Oh, sorry to pry.” he looked at his hands.

“Not at all.” He looked into your eyes and your eyes crinkled with another smile. Only when he looked away did you turn around in your bed. A few minutes later you heard Gi-hun and Young-il talking and even though you didn’t want to, it was impossible to not overhear. Young-il was explaining the story of why he’s in the games and why he chose to continue playing - how his pregnant wife was gravely ill and he needed the money due to her medical bills. Somehow, this answer shocked you, even though you shouldn't have been thrown off by it. Of course he was married.

Only after the whole dormitory fell silent did you finally fall into a fitful sleep.

***

“Thank you, Young-il.” you whispered to him, gratefully touching his shoulder. Young-il turned his gaze your way and the corners of his eyes crinkled under the influence of a smile. Only his supportive words during the six legged pentathlon could calm you down, which resulted in you successfully completing your mini game. The memory flashed through your mind - tears welling in your eyes, hands shaking as you reached again and again for the gong-gi pebbles. You could sense your teammates’ growing unease but that even worsened your situation. After the third attempt, Young-il grabbed you by the elbow, leaning closer as he said: “Ignore everything else okay? Just listen to me and focus.”

You nodded, bewildered eyes setting again on the pebbles. You were kneeling in a puddle of blood, which didn’t exactly help calm your nerves.

“Just concentrate. I know you can do it. Look at you, all flushed red and focused. This look suits you.” The pebbles balanced on the knuckles of your hand, just one more throw. You looked up at Young-il, lips slightly parted. Were you hearing correctly? Maintaining eye contact, you threw the pebbles op with a sudden surge of confidence and caught them flawlessly. Everyone cheered and you were hoisted up by your team, but all you could hear were Young-il’s last words whispered in your ear: “Good girl.”

Now he was looking at you, this new tension between you two palpable.

“Anytime.”

***

While you tried to act nonchalant, it was just impossible. The way Young-il now watched you at all times drove you crazy, feeling his gaze like a branding on your body. You were grateful for keeping a watch during the lights off, thinking that it could distract you from your own dirty thoughts. But it was quite the contrary.

Overlooking the silent dark room, those words echoed in you even more soundly. Good girl. With a sigh you stretched out your legs, trying to ignore the tightness in your underbelly. You were annoyed with yourself. Why did the words of a stranger make you feel this way? Words of a married stranger, more like it.

“You seem distracted.”

You jumped at that impassive raspy voice. Thankfully, once Young-ho sat down next to you, he couldn’t notice your flushed cheeks due to the impassable darkness. Your shoulders touched and to your surprise he didn’t immediately move away.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really.” you smiled with your head bowed, nearly chuckling at how clueless he must be.

There was an awkward silence following your reply, so, without thinking about it, you said: “Thank you again for today, truly. You helped me a lot.”

Young-il looked at you, searching for something in your expression. Apparently he found it. “You think about that a lot, don’t you?”

“Sorry?” you stumbled over your words, not knowing how to react, what to say.

“My words alone made you quiver. Now imagine what my tongue could do.” he whispered, teasing you, a spark in his eyes.

“Young-il-“ you breathed out, suddenly aware of how close his face was to yours. You felt your underwear getting wetter by the minute. But you put that all in the back of your mind as you said: “I know you are married. Expecting a child, even. You shouldn’t say things like that.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Does that bother you? Or are you bothered by the effect I have on you?”

You sighed, looking away from his handsome face. Was he sent here just to test your boundaries?

“I still have enough self control to know right from wrong.” But your body wasn’t in line with your thoughts.

Young-il stared at you for a moment, then sighed, irritated. “My wife and my child are gone. I just don’t enjoy talking about them in past tense. I joined the games out of misery, nothing more. Are you happy now?”

You froze, looking at the way his arms formed into fists at his sides. It was like having ice cold water poured all over you.

“Young-il, I’m so-“

“Don’t be. It’s been a long time.” Eyes meeting, he smiled at you tentatively. You squeezed his warm hand and he relaxed, loosening his fist.

“Right now, I don’t care about anything but you.” He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Moving closer, he kissed the bruise already blossoming on your jaw. And you let him.

“I don’t want to scare you away with my… infatuation. But right now, I’m so desperately weak for you.” Your breathing hitched as he moved his lips to your ear.

Just when you thought he would kiss you, he suddenly pulled away.

“I’ll take over the watch. You should sleep, muster some energy for tomorrow.” You nodded as if in a trance. He helped you stand up and led you to your bed. Young-il left you standing there, leaving only the whisper of his lips branding your cheek.

***

The third game was a whirlwind of movement. Only thanks to Young-il were you still alive and breathing. Every time a number was announced, he firmly grasped your wrist and dragged you with him wherever he went. Not that you were complaining - you were so overstimulated by all the commotion that you were glad you could keep up with him.

When one player tried to separate you from him, Young-il bared his teeth and kicked him square in the chest. “She’s mine,” There it was, the cold expression and clenched jaw. Even though you were on the brink of dying, a shiver ran down your spine.

You made it safe with your group into one of the rooms and soon were walking out to play the last round. You knew exactly what the woman’s voice was going to announce and you were right: “Two.”

Young-il was already moving, pushing people out of your way. Everything seemed to go smoothly, until you reached the room; a player was already inside.

“Get out.” Young-il growled and reached the man, trying to get him on his legs and out of the room.

“We were here first,” the player whimpered. You noticed other players running to the door you were standing next to and panicking, you closed it, pushing your whole body against it.

You looked over your shoulder at Young-il, wanting to see if he was any closer to pushing the player out through the doors. But you froze when you saw he was holding the man in a headlock, choking him. All you could do was stare.

Young-il was looking straight back at you. And with one smooth motion of his arms he broke the man’s spine, leaving him staring at the ceiling, going limp in Young-il’s grip.

“I’d do anything for you, Y/N.” Young-il said, slowly getting up. You couldn’t tear your gaze from the lifeless body on the ground.

Only when he knelt in front of you did your eyes meet his. He grabbed your cold, shaking hands, kissing the knuckles while staring into your eyes.

“You’re scaring me,” you whispered, a tear rolling down your cheek.

“You poor thing,” Young-il said absentmindedly, wiping your tears away. “I can keep you safe, Y/N. I promise. All I’ve done was to prove that to you.”

“It’s scaring me how far you’re willing to go for me,” you sobbed, fighting the urge to flinch when he caressed your cheek. Still, you couldn’t find a reason to hate him. All the things he was saying were true, he did all of this for you, he killed a man for you, for your own safety.

The lock on the doors clicked and you closed your eyes, letting yourself be guided by Young-il out of the room. You knew that if you looked once more at the corpse, you would never let Young-il touch you again.

So you kept your eyes closed, choosing the easier path.

***

When the lights went out, all you could do was hold Young-il as hard as possible and count the minutes until the slaughter was over. Head against his chest, you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat, every other sound pushed into the background. His hand was on your lower back, holding you as close as possible.

“I want to go home.” you whispered, clutching the front of his T-shirt like a small child. It was all a mistake. You shouldn’t be here.

“Okay, you will, okay? When we disarm the guards, you stay hidden, but once we take control of the rest, you have to come to my side, you understand?”

You nodded into his chest. Young-il kissed the crown of your head before leaving you under the bed as the guards tried to take control of the situation.

After many gunshots fired, you were crawling to the group of players formed in front of the main doors. Without hesitation you claimed one of the smaller guns for yourself. Somehow, the familiar weight of it calmed you down a bit. Young-il looked at you with tenseness.

“Keeping secrets, I see.” In reply you just loaded the gun, staring back.

Gi-hun looked your way over his shoulder, sending you a quick nod. The group exited the room, moving quickly down the corridor. Young-il stayed back, moving slower than the rest. Once the first guards got in your way, he pushed you to the side, saying: “This way!” Looking over your shoulder, everyone was shooting at the enemy, moving the other way. You looked back at him, unsure.

“You wanted to go home, didn’t you? Well, this is it.” seeing how indecisive you were, he sighed, “You trust me, don’t you?”

Hesitant, you followed his lead. You took the side stairs up and you got a bad feeling in your stomach. Young-il didn’t bother to check the corners, nor the other stories as you climbed the stairs. He walked like someone who knew this place, someone who wasn’t scared that he might be shot.

You stopped in your tracks, aiming your gun with a trembling hand. Young-il, upon noticing you were not following him, turned around. There was something like betrayal shining through his demeanour.

“You’re going to explain.” you said, trying to keep your voice and hand steady.

“Oh, Y/N, I think you already know.” Young-il pointed out, a corner of his lips curling up. He took one step towards you.

“What. Is. Your. Real. Name.” you said through gritted teeth, cocking your gun.

“Hwang In-ho.”

All this time, he was the long lost brother Jun-ho was trying to find. You felt the sting of betrayal in your bones.

“Was any of this real?” Tears stung in your eyes and you hated yourself for being so vulnerable.

“Oh, baby,” In-ho sighed, walking to you, kneeling in front of you again. The muzzle of the gun touched his forehead, which he seemed unbothered by.

“Everything.” he said, looking up at you.

“I keep trying to hate you,” you whispered, trying to muster at least some hatred that would make you pull the trigger. “It would be so much easier if I did.”

In-ho reached out and gently took the gun from your trembling hand. He threw in on the ground, making it slide on the floor.

“I know,” he whispered, grabbing your hips with his hands. He stared at you yearningly. There was a burning ache in your chest clawing its way into your throat.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

The worst part was that he was right.

“I know I should stay away from you, but I can’t. It’s not that simple.” A sob tore out of your throat, making it hard for you to breathe. There were so many emotions in you that your head was spinning. All you knew was the fact that you couldn’t hate the one person who deserved it the most.

“Stay with me, love. I beg you,” In-ho said hoarsely, gripping you harder, trying to make you understand. “You will be safe with me. I will not break that promise.” His eyes were filled with hope. “You felt it too, I know.”

You closed your eyes, composing yourself and your thoughts. You knew it was wrong. But you always had a weakness for the forbidden.

In-ho stood up, taking your face in his hands. He kissed your forehead, your temples, your jaw. And when he kissed you on the lips, you let yourself melt into the touch, forgetting everything else.

“You’ll be the death of me.” you whispered against his lips and he smiled into the kiss, knowing you were his.

[g4rvez-r3id]

I’m Here, Now

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!Fem Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Spencer gets released from prison and you’re his first stop after dealing with Cat Adams and her schemes. And all he wants to do is see you and love you.

Category: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: 18+ MDNI established relationship, prison arc, spoilers of season 12 of Criminal Minds, it’s a lil sad tbh but it only lasts for a second, reader’s in disbelief, spencer and reader being cutesy, crying, kissing, mentions of bruises, threats, sappy speeches, fluffy ending, lowkey not true to 12x22/13x01 so this could be an au! smut warnings: soft!dom spencer (firm believer here🙋‍♀️), a lil body worship from reader to spencer, oral sex (m receiving & reader receiving), facefucking, cum swallowing, “good girl”, riding, unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, creampie, overstimulation, spencer lowkey being a munch- that should cover it 😃

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, i can’t stop writing smutty oneshots ahhhh i can’t help it, i just love my man 🤭 i hope y’all enjoy this because i’ve had my mind on prison arc reid bc i’m watching s12 rn and oooo he so fine in 12a and in 12b 😩 anyways hope y’all like this <3

You worried that maybe he’d never come back. Upon hearing he was in jail in Mexico, you worried you’d never see Spencer again.

If your past self could tell you that your boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid, who was a nerd at heart, who spent his free time playing chess and reading and watching Doctor Who with you under your fluffy blankets and wore mismatched socks because he believed it was good luck, that he would one day end up being framed and sent to prison, you would’ve laughed in your face.

You never would’ve expected this to happen. But then you heard why. He was framed for murdering a woman named Nadie Ramos, who was helping him get his mother medicine that seemed to calm her from her episodes. If there was anyone he would’ve risked everything for besides you, it was his mother.

And to be honest, you were a little mad at him for lying to you. He told you that he was going to Houston to talk to some of his mom’s doctors. You’d been together four years now and not once did he ever lie to you until now. When he got transferred to the Milburn Correctional Facility, due to overcrowding, he’d requested to see you and only you.

It wasn’t until Spencer wrote you a letter, practically begging you to come and see you. The first time you’d gone to see him, you actually didn’t even recognize him, skipping over him and almost staring at him in confusion when he walked over to the other side of your plexiglass.

And you tried to play it off like you expected him, even while looking like he did, but he knew deep down you didn’t recognize him. He chose not to acknowledge it but you both knew.

And you visited him frequently, until he decided to cut you from the visitor log with no warning. You were hurt, to say the least. And you ended up avoiding everyone after that. You even ignored the many fruit baskets Garcia kept sending over but you kept sending them back.

But then a miracle happened.

They proved his innocence. And he was out.

You would’ve found that out if you’d checked your phone but you spent the entire day in bed, away from society and sobbing at the fact that he was gone and he wasn’t here, comforting you like he did so well.

You hated him, you hated him for putting you in this position, for making you deal with the aftermath, for pushing you away. But you loved him. You would never stop loving him, no matter how much you hated him right now.

You’d been laying in bed, tossing and turning all day as the TV played some random sitcom you watched every now and again. And you’d heard something. A soft knock coming from your front door.

You almost missed it but it was faint. And you heard it. Choosing to finally get out of bed, you opened your room door and walked to the front door. You opened it without checking the peephole, because at this point you’d had enough and just wanted death to get you over with already.

But death may have stopped your heart only for a moment when you open the door.

Because standing there, in the suit he’d gotten arrested in when his bail was denied, his hair outgrown and his stubble framed nicely on his face — was your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, in the flesh.

You gasped softly as you backed away from the door and stared at him, almost as if you were disbelief. You’d had a dream like this before. Where he came back and promised he was here to stay. (But it was another one of God’s cruel jokes and you cried when you woke up the following day).

He walked in and closed the door right behind him, standing tall in front of you. You noticed the bruises on his face, how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and stared at you.

“Hi.” He said softly and all you can do is stare at him. “Am I dreaming?” You find yourself asking out loud and his heart breaks. He can see that you’re scared. Scared that if you go up to him, he’ll disappear like smoke. And he hates that.

“No.” Spencer shakes his head and he waits for you to approach him and you do, walking slowly towards him as the floorboard creaks beneath your socked feet.

He waits as you first grab his hands, and interlock your fingers together. When that seems not to be enough for you, your hands move to his face. You caress the sharp new grown stubble on his face and drag your index finger to his plump lips and stare into his hazel eyes and they’re full of wonder and love.

You don’t even register the tears until you hold him in your arms and you hold onto him for dear life. He holds you tightly in his arms as you find yourself wrapping around him like a koala and all he can do is hold you back. And it grounds him, you ground him.

Your head moves towards his and you kiss his lips, like you’ve longed to do for three months. And part of you still couldn’t believe this, that he was here, holding you like you were going to break.

You kiss him a few more times before you pull back and ask with tears in your eyes, “Are you okay?” Spencer nods toward your forehead, “I’m okay, now that I’m here.”

“You’re here, now.” You look him in the eyes as you say this and he nods at your words, repeating them to himself. “I’m here, now.” It’s as if he’s reminding himself that he’s here with you because he’s worried he’s gonna wake up any minute and he’ll be back in that cell. You weren’t the only one who had a hard time believing this was real.

Spencer’s lips catch yours and he pushes into the kiss and you get back on the ground, your hands (or mouth) not leaving him for a second and making their way up to his hair and pulling. You whine into his lips as he you pull him by his belt and walk backwards to your bedroom with him following you.

With your strength, you twirl the two of you around and straddle him as you continue to kiss him. You rock your hips into his growing bulge and he moans into your mouth and you smirk in the middle of the kiss.

You begin to unbutton his suit and successfully get his blazer off and now next is his dress shirt but he’s quick to grab your hands and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You ask, willing to put a stop to this if he wasn’t ready. “Nothing, I just…” Spencer looks down as he lets go of your hands and seemingly now growing insecure all of a sudden.

He stands up from the bed and you look up at him as he holds his arms over his stomach. “I just… I got hurt pretty bad in there. You’re gonna see some bruises. I just don’t want you to freak out. He admits and your heart breaks, “You don’t have to take your shirt off. Or we can just stop entirely and—”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’re gonna see them eventually.” With that, he begins to unbutton his dress shirt and you give him all the time in the world to do so, not wanting to rush this at all.

When he takes off his dress shirt successfully, you finally see it. He has bruises everywhere on his ribs and some near his belly button and on his stomach. Some are still in the process of healing with yellow and gray hues and some are purple and mucus green.

“Oh, my love…” You whisper to yourself as you stand up and you turns him around and find more on his back and there’s just too many of them. You find yourself tearing up but you know you need to keep it together for him. Who could hurt your sweet boy? Was this why he didn’t want you to see him anymore while he was still in there? How long did this go on for?

It’s then that you register the bruise near his eye. You thought that it was due to the lack of sleep he’d been getting and assumed it was the bags under his eyes he so often got but it was a bruise. How did you miss that when he walked in?

He almost wants to hide himself, like a turtle under its’ shell and you look down at his body. “Baby…” You start but he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He looks at you as you guide him towards the bed and he lays back and you go back to straddling him, but this time, you’re careful as you hover over him.

You kiss his lips before making your way down to his neck and then to his body and it takes a second for him to register that you’re not just kissing his body, you’re kissing the bruises.

He feels himself getting choked up as you kiss every visible one and his heart swells for you. What did he did to deserve you?

You begin to unbuckle his belt but he rests his elbows on the bed and looks down at you. “You—You don’t have to…” He trails off but you quickly shake your head. “I know. But I want to. It’s your first night back. This is about you tonight, baby.”

Spencer doesn’t interfere, just stares as you unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock through the hole in his underwear and it springs into action, dripping pre-cum from the head. “Oh, my sweet boy. You must be so pent up.”

You kiss the tip of his dick and he shuts his eyes tightly as if he’s trying to hold back from already cumming. You lick up his shaft and fit his cock inside your mouth and he curses to himself as he grips your bedsheets as tight as he can.

You notice this, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers together, as if you’re telling him and giving him permission to touch you as you bob your head up and down.

He takes this opportunity to caress your face as you take him into your mouth. He ties your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he pushes deeper onto his cock and even lifts his hips to ensure that you’re taking all of him until you’re gagging.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer tells you and you nod to the best of your ability until you begins to fuck your throat, using your mouth for his pent up pleasure. “Fuck… God, you’re so good at that. Letting me fuck your throat like the good girl you are.”

His words could make you cum on the spot without him even laying a finger on you. He rarely cursed in your domestic setting but he did it often when you two were in bed.

All you can do is take it as deep as it can go in your mouth. He whines into the ceiling as he says your name until you feel his hot cum dribble down your throat and your nose is buried into his crotch as he holds you there and makes you take all his cum into your mouth.

He pants as he releases your head from his cock and you swallow the rest of his cum. He looks at you with worried eyes, concerned that maybe he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, like he didn’t just cum into your mouth and call you a “good girl”.

You shake your head at him with a small smile. “That was just about the hottest thing you’ve ever done.” (And everything he did was always hot). He blushes and crooks a smile.

“Are you willing to keep going?” You ask him and he nods with an immediate answer, “Absolutely.” He’d never let you go to bed without making you cum at least twice.

You climb on top of him with a smirk and look deeply into his eyes. They’re filled with lust, love and adoration for you and for you only. “You’re so beautiful.” You say to him in a whisper but Spencer chuckles a bit, “I should be saying that to you.”

You look down as your pussy catches the tip of his cock and you sink down into him carefully. He moans at the feeling and you gasp. He fits perfectly.

“God, I missed you. Missed this…” Spencer catches his breath. “Perfect pussy.” You chuckle and looks into his eyes as you rock back and forth. “It was so lonely without you, Spencer.” You whine. “I missed you so much.”

You lean down as you kiss him on the lips. “Did you…” He pauses, not wanting to be crude even while he was inside of you. “While I was away?” It took a second to figure out what he was talking about. And then you realized that he was asking if you’d masturbated while he was away.

“A few times,” You admitted shyly, despite suffocating him with your pussy. “I thought about you every time. It just wasn’t the same. Missed your body.”

Spencer smiles darkly, “Maybe I should punish you for that.” He says, half-joking. You lean forward as you smirk, “I’d like to see you try.”

And without a second thought, it was as if a switch flipped as Spencer was quick to flip your bodies over and he hovers over you, both hands on either side of your head, gripping the pillows. “You really wanna test that theory?”

You bite your lip and smirk once more as you pull him in for another kiss and he glides himself into you and you gasp at the feeling of his dick inside of your pussy. It’d been such a long time since you felt him like this, here, in your arms. God, you love him.

He rocks his hips, thrusting deeply into your body as leans his head in your shoulder, mumbling sweet obscenities and how good your pussy feels and how responsive you were. He dreamt of the day he’d have you like this. And since being in prison, he longed for it more.

He reached down in between your legs as he found your clit without even looking down and staring deeply into your eyes and your moans reverberate through the walls as keeps his eyes on you and you only.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I need to cum— where? Where?” He asks and you shut your eyes tightly as you shout, “Inside! Oh, god, inside!”

He pushes himself hard into you as you finally cum, your legs shaking as you moan his name into the ceiling and he collapses on your body, still sheathed inside of you.

You both lay there, panting and reveling in the feeling of each other. Eventually, Spencer does pull out of you and you feel as he lowers himself, eyeing your pussy up close and you look down at him sleepily. “Baby, you don’t have to. This was about you.” You assure.

“Nonsense,” Spencer tells. “I need to clean up my mess and even the score, might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He jokes, diving face first into your pussy and you whimper at the contact he makes, especially with the way his stubble is rubbing against your thighs, cleaning his own cum out of your pussy and relishing in the way you both taste.

His mouth captures your clit and he twists his tongue around the bud in that delicious way you love and he moans into your pussy. “We taste so good together, baby. Cum again on my tongue, this time.”

You tug at his messy hair as you hold his head to you pussy and you use him, rocking your hips into his mouth. You feel as your legs shake once more and you let go of his head for him to take a breather.

That breather lasts only a second before he dives back in and you whine at the contact. “Spence… baby, I’m sen—sensitive.”

“You can take one more, baby. I know you can. You can cum again.” Spencer says, his pupils are blown as he looks at you and he’s commanding you to cum again. “Just one more, baby.”

You nod at him and Spencer grabs your hands. “Here,” He interlocks your fingers with his and somehow, the pleasure is so much and yet not at all as makes you cum for a third time tonight. If he could spend forever eating your pussy, he would.

You close your eyes for a moment and when you finally open them, he’s right next to you and holding you. (He’d cleaned you up properly with a warm rag and left your favorite snack and water bottle on the desk next to your bed whenever you were ready to wake up). You remembered the loving words he whispered to you as you drifted off into a heavy slumber.

And you’ve finally woken up. You look up at him, still in awe of him being here. You take the chance to check the time. It’s already 5am and the sun is still shy away from rising but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters because you have your boyfriend right next to you, holding you for dear life and loving you the way you deserve to be loved.

You worry that he’s still up, but you figure that after all those months in prison, maybe he has trouble sleeping every now and again. You find yourself holding him tighter as you look down at the bruise near your head. You can’t believe he was hurt. How did he manage to survive in there? You’re still wondering why he’d taken you off the visitor’s log.

“Spencer?” You ask and he looks down at you, your voice surprising him. “Yeah?” You sit up and look at him, face to face, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Why did you take me off the visitor’s list?” You decide to ask.

He’s about to respond and you don’t want to hear another lie. You’d been through plenty of those already. “I mean, I didn’t even want to see you at first and then you begged me to and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t allowed to. I feel like I have the right to know.”

“No, no, you do,” Spencer knows that much. He hates the fact that he’s lied to you and has forced you to deal with this when all you deserved was the best from him. He sits up next to you he knows he’s gonna need to tell you, even though he doesn’t want to.

“The last time after you came to visit me,” Spencer started. “I got cornered in my cell. A lot of the guys there were asking about you. And they said that it’d be a shame if something happened to you when you came to visit again.” You look down as he talks about it. “And I didn’t want to risk that. And I wanted to tell you, really, I did.” He grabs your hand assuringly. “But I didn’t have any way to. And I didn’t want you to get hurt. I would’ve died if something happened to you and I didn’t do everything in my power to stop it. I’m sorry it went down like it did.”

You shake your head. And you finally understand. Because if the roles were reversed, you would’ve taken him off the visitor’s list, too. If it meant protecting him. “You were just trying to protect me, I understand.”

“I just…” Spencer looks at you, holding your face in his hands. “I love you, so much.” He looks deeply into your eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He reveals and your eyes widen. “What?”

Spencer closes his eyes and holds his index finger up. “One second.” He stands up and grabs his blazer from off the floor and digs into one of the inside pockets and pulls out a red velvet box.

Your eyes widen as you cover your body with the sheet and he kneels down on one knee in his boxers and opens the velvet box to reveal a ring. “I didn’t want to do it like this but I’d rather do it now than wait for the right time to.” Your eyes glance down at the box for a mere second and then to the love of your life.

“I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make my days better, hell, you’ve made my life better. And no matter what we’ve gone through, you’ve stayed by my side and you never ran. I love that you sing off-key, I love that your nose twitches when you get mad, I love that you like… pineapple on pizza, oddly enough.” You chuckle at this. “I love everything about you. And I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve you. But… but true love, it fosters a connection that goes beyond the superficial. It's a bond that often involves understanding each other's core values, beliefs, and life goals. And you’ve made me believe in true love.“

You stare at him in disbelief as he continues, “Will you marry me?” You feel tears spring into your eyes as you nod vehemently, “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” You smile widely and he smiles at you, slipping the ring onto your ring finger as you continue to mutter a million yeses.

When you finally get the ring on, you pull him in for another kiss and he holds you to his heart’s content. It wasn’t the way he envisioned it going, but with you, you knew you didn’t want big and bold ways of him saying he loved you and wanted to marry you, you were content with something small and sweet because it was coming from him and that was the biggest gift of all. You were one for grand gestures, you liked it just the way it was. It was perfect. He was perfect. And you’d spend the rest of your life reminding him he was.

So, you laid back in your bed with your fiancé and talked and talked about sweet nothings until the sun came up. And all of the ache you felt the night before, the pain you endured was long gone and now replaced with something beautiful and sweet.

[felassanis]

I genuinely think Lavellan is the first relationship Solas has had. Especially an explicitly romantic one.

Veilguard Spoilers ahead. But regardless of what the primary nature of his relationship with Mythal was. There clearly was an infatuation. A dedication so raw back then that I genuinely don't think Solas was looking at anyone else but Mythal. Either because he longed for her in some (arguably unrequited) capacity or the loyalty he had for her trumped any other distractions.

But then. She dies. And he grieves, and he ultimately destroys the world in that grief. And he's spent thousands of years away from Mythal. And while he's still obviously dedicated to her, the rawness of that bond has simmered.

And then he meets Lavellan.

"It's been a long time," he says when you tease him about him using fade tongue. And while yes, you could see this as Solas confirming he has had prior romantic relationships. I actually think it refers to Mythal, to the fact it's been a long time since he's felt so close to somebody.

We know ancient elves felt operated differently than modern-day elves when it came to expression in a relationship. What we think is romantic might not have been as such back then. So I'm NOT saying Solas is inexperienced, but rather, I do think the only bond he's had that consumed him completely, that was loving, was Mythal. Until he meets Lavellan.

There is a genuine...newness to the relationship. There are so many instances where Solas seems so mildly surprised by Lavellan's actions. For the care she puts into their relationship. My favourite being when Lavellan promises to protect him in Haven from anyone looking to hurt him because he's an apostate elf. The way his eyes widen and he says "...thank you," like he's never experienced someone looking out for him so...outwardly. So willing to put his safety as a priority. (And that makes me sob cause oh my god I wonder if anyone cared about Solas's safety ever)

And I genuinely think his bond to Mythal coloured Solas's expectations when it comes to any relationship, especially a romantic one. It's like Solas isn't used to someone reciprocating HIS feelings lmao. And that's doubly apparent in the Solavellan ending, I think. Lavellan and Solas's interactions are so interesting because Solas GENUINELY has not let himself believe for nearly 10 years that Lavellan forgave him. Cannot believes she is even there, willing and wanting to save him from himself.

This does not strike me as someone who's used to relationships. To the give and take. The safety. The sustainability....

I think Solas spent so long yearning for the reciprocation he never received from Mythal only to get it finally with Lavellan. He longed for Mythal to reciprocate, and she didn't. Not until she finally shared the burden of their actions at the end. And there is no comfort in that burden now being acknowledged by her. She releases him from her service and vanishes as he's left to double over by himself.

At least he would be, but lavellan is there to lower herself to his level and comfort him. They're equals where Solas and Mythal were not. Solas is not Lavellan's lapdog. And she is not warped and changed by him as she offered to do so back in Trespasser. He didn't let her come with him to avoid the fate that befell him when he followed Mythal. They're Partners. Lovers.

And even THEN. EVEN THEN. Solas is shocked Lavellan wants to go with him to the Fade. To the point his eyes tear up, he CRIES. Warning her away but you can see in his face he is fucking DESPERATE for her to follow. Because he wants to love and have that love returned at long last.

And it is. It finally is.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Wrapped In Wicked Romance Part III:

Nica Schwartz - Epilogue

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Nica: If that’s what you wish, I’ll always up for it.

The clever, sweet whispers in my ear felt like they were toying with my heart, enthralling me.

(But these aren’t his true feelings.)

I know because I’ve watched him all day.

(This guy whispers sweet nothings to everyone, and plays with their heart.)

I was surprised that he was able to make acquaintances just a few days after coming to England,

(Now that I think about it, I understand why.)

He can skillfully use words to penetrate someone’s heart,

Even if you’ve only met once, you’d remember him.

(Also, women are even more attracted to him.)

I too felt tethered to him, until I witnessed that lady killing her husband.

But, not now.

Kate: …..I don’t want to do that, because if I date someone, I want there to be mutual feelings.

Nica: Well then it’s perfect, because you like me right?

Kate: I don’t dislike you, but….

(It’s true that I’ve deepened my understanding of him by being with him for the day, but….)

(But, I still don’t know much about Nica.)

I grabbed the hand that was holding my chin, and stared him down with a strong determination.

Kate: It’s because you really don’t like me.

Deep indigo eyes ripple for just a moment like the water’s surface.

Kate: I don’t think it’s necessary to lie to yourself just to date.

Kate: Suppose I did like you Nica, and you were okay with it, I still wouldn’t date you.

Kate: Because I might end up hurting you.

Once more, rippling eyes illuminated by streetlights shimmer like waves.

His hand released my chin, and ruffled his hair with a fed up look on his face.

Nica:….You’re really weird.

The small murmur reached my ears, and the fake smile vanished.

Nica cracked his neck with a bothersome look and sighed,

Kate: ….That’s better.

Nica: What?

At least for me, I was a bit happy to see Nica’s true self.

Kate: You’re a friendly and smart guy, and that’s great, but this side of you is even better.

Nica: …..You’re a masochist.

Kate: N-no, I’m not.

Watching me deny it so quickly,

Nica: Haha.

Nica bursts out laughing, smiling like a happy child —

(Huh, so he can make an expression like that…..)

My heart squeezed as my eyes were enraptured.

Nica: Then next time, I’ll go tough on you.

Kate: You don’t have to do that.

He returned to his usual self and smiled suggestively.

Kate: I’m going home!

The clock tower in the distance signals that our relationship will end soon,

I picked up the bouquet of flowers that held today’s memories and turned to leave—

Nica: Kate.

When my name was called for the first time, I automatically turned around,

And Nica used his index fingers to lift the corners of my mouth into a smile—

Nica: We’re still a couple.

Nica: Shouldn’t there be a kiss at the end of a date?

Kate: Uh……

My eyes were fixed onto the lips that drew closer to me slowly,

Unable to break away, his breath reached my lips.

(Oh…..)

The moment his lashes grazed the tip of my nose, his scent intoxicated me —

The sound of the bell tolled, marking our end as a couple.

Nica: Ah, that’s too bad.

He stepped back, his scent dissipating, and to my relief, I returned to my senses.

(Why do I think that’s a little disappointing?)

A cold wind hit my painfully aching body, and I let out a sigh.

Nica: Should we head home, young lady?

お嬢サン - Here Nica is using using polite language with Kate addressing her as “Ojosan.” However, because of the katakana form of -san “サン”, it seems to indicate that he may be saying it with a foreign accent. As far as I'm aware, this is the first instance of him addressing her this way in an event.

— This is our distance.

[Transitions to the palace.]

The next day —

Kate: Harrison, Liam what are you doing here?

Liam: Oh, Kate!

I called out to them both who were at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall and talking about something,

Harrison looked a bit perplexed.

Harrison: Can I tell you something?

Kate: Did something happen?

Liam: Actually -

According to them, it seems that the target of a mission they were assigned to was killed.

Liam: Seems like he was stabbed by his wife too.

Kate: His wife you say…..

(It can’t be that woman….?)

Even though my heart pounds, they keep speaking.

Harrison: The husband apparently purchased women through human-trafficking, and imprisoned them at his estate.

Harrison: He also raked in money by renting the imprisoned women to others.

Kate: That’s such a……

You can imagine just how the women were treated without even saying it.

Liam: That’s why we received the mission, and thanks to his death, the truth of the estate came to light.

Liam: The women were also freed, and we don’t have to go on a mission, but….

Liam tilts his head with a stumped look, and Harrison lets out a sigh.

Harrison: All the money that guy’s earned is gone.

Kate: Does that mean it was stolen?

Harrison: There’s no money at the bank or the estate, so suspicion’s falling onto the wife.

Harrison looked unsettled about it, but then a possibility popped up in my head.

(If I say something without concrete proof, it would only deepen the rift between Vogel….But, if he —)

(—Perhaps, he might’ve done it)

Kate: Ummm.

At that moment, my eyes met with a figure that appeared at the end of the corridor.

My attention was drawn to Nica who put his finger up to his lips and smiled suspiciously,

Kate: Oh.

Suddenly, a white bird flies by and I instinctively shut my eyes.

After I opened my eyes, he was nowhere to be seen, only a single white feather floating down.

(Nica Schwartz. A cunning person who likes to toy with love.)

(But, I wonder why I can’t dislike him.)

The day when my love is toyed with, may not be that far off.

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Yes, please, I beg you Nica, please treat us more toughly next time!!!!

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @drachonia

If you are 18+ and wish to be added to my tags list, please comment below specifying the IkeVil suitor, or for all translations.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I think there's two things going on in canon about Aizen:

Aizen doesn't kill captains in the first big battle of his betrayal because he can't.

1. The doylist explanation of his actions is so blatantly transparent (shonen jump scheduling hell) that it overwhelms the subtle watsonian clues that kubo gives us which are:

2. Aizen is a lying bitch. To absolutely everyone around him, but most of all, to himself.

He takes great pains to disguise it. He talks a big game and definitely tries his best to kill, but he doesn't. it makes tactical sense for him to kill at least SOMEONE before fucking off to hueco Mundo but even the fucking off belies the problem. He's a tough customer, but if he really were capable of killing another captain in a fight, he wouldn't have bothered with the whole fake corpse theater- he would have just picked them off one by one while quietly completing the hogyoku until Yamamoto had straight-up run out of strong enough shinigami to promote and Aizen had made himself a god while nobody was looking.

Instead, Aizen's plan relies on (and fails at) having the captains kill each other, and building an army of warm bodies to put between himself and the rest of the Court Guard until the Hogyoku is complete, which pretty much screams "I cannot win, even in a pitched fight".

EVEN WHEN THE HOGYOKU IS COMPLETE, Aizen doesn't stick around to actually finish off the captains- he bolts to the living world AGAIN and shuts the portal doors behind him.

-

Now that we know that Aizen is mostly smoke and mirrors who is desperately trying to stay alive until his godhood hax kick in, his pattern of avoidance of real threats reveals something interesting:

It's funny that you mention him being afraid of Yamamoto because I think he is afraid, but not of Yamamoto. Aizen doesn't want anyone to think he's scared of anything, but it's better you think it's Yamamoto than The Actual Problem. If you ignore everything Aizen says and just look at how close he's willing to even let other captains get to his person, there is one captain he's TERRIFIED of above all others.

He spends exactly one scene in the same room with them, and only when he knows the meeting is ending early.

He absolutely refuses to taunt them- in fact, they're the person he spends the most time trying to convince that he is actually dead.

When confronted by the various captains, he glaots a bit and then tries to kill them- except one, whole monologues at exactly long enough for Gin to cause a distraction, and then DIPS. He even cuts his big monologue at the execution grounds short because this Captain is incoming.

When the finale of the winter war begins, Aizen makes a point of not being in the same dimension as this captain, and when they're approaching, he leaves for the living world.

Again and again and again, there is one captain, one person, that Aizen stays far, far away from:

Unohana.

I don't think this is intentional on Kubo's part, (unless it's severely underplayed foreshadowing which is a shame) but given how kubo treats his female characters and how he doesn't really seem to understand what a doctor does, I think Aizen's pattern of staying the hell away from Unohana is accidental, but it's my fic and I can have it be on purpose because it reveals some truly delicious motivation and interaction.

1. AEIWAM!Aizen (and to a similar extent, canon!Aizen) regularly squanders perfectly good resources or chances to fix the inequities of soul society because he's too far up his own ass to see the forest for the trees. One of the cheif blindspots he has is his rampant misogyny. Aizen regards the relationship between Gin and Rangiku as that of child and toy. He treats Momo as a disposable tool instead of recognizing she was the one who got closest to actual killing any of the other captains. He seems to think the royal guard themselves will be easy to deal with- possibly because the only one he ever knew in person was Hikifune, and it is so, so easy for a man like him to wildly low all the power and competence of someone like her. He rambles about the hollows having no inner life, but notably it's Hallibel that triggers this rant. It NEVER occurs to him that Orihime herself could be a problem - she's just a toy to take from Ichigo.

Aizen, simply put, does not think of women as people. He disregards the interiority of everyone around him, really, but ESPECIALLY the women around him.

...but this kind of objectification cuts both ways. Like most bigots, his inability to think of certain humans as people means he is also prone to greatly inflate the damage they can do in his mind until they become supernatural entities. "The Enemy is both pathetic and omnipotent" is an important basis of victim complexes, and Aizen Loooooves being the victim, so it makes PERFECT SENSE that his personal Boogeyman is none other than the woman he knows entirely as the quiet and dutiful doctor who has never set foot in battle but that all the older shinigami seem strangely eager to placate. Unohana is pathetically weak, so far as Aizen can tell, yet seems to effortlessly command the respect he so desperately craves. No wonder she lives rent-free in his head.

2. ... Ironically, Aizen is right about her. In canon, Unohana's past as the first kenpachi is not a secret, just largely forgotten. In AEIWAM, it's an actual secret because the Gotei-13 is playing a much more fraught game with the C46. Aizen genuinely has no idea she used to be captain of the 11th, so the weird bloodthirsty edges that he sometimes sees to her reiatsu, and the respect she commands with the other (smarter) captains is baffling.

In truth, Unohana is every inch the monster she was as a kenpachi as she is a medic. Flesh is hers to command and her willingness to cut and sculpt it to her desires hasn't changed- she is just now also capable of healing and reviving it into shape as well, which is much, much worse.

I haven't decided exactly how much Aizen knows about her by the time of his betrayal, but at least on a subconscious level, I think Aizen knows that Unohana is punching in a league well above most of the captains, if not above the old man himself at this point, and his inability to think of her as human means he is unable to assign human motives to her like most of his victims, so she appears terrifyingly unpredictable.

3. Even if it's a secret, some of the captains know, or have guessed. She was still Kenpachi when Shunsui and Ukitake started at the academy. Soi Fon is responsible for handling some of soul society's most sensitive information. Zaraki got his ass handed to him by her and has been in love ever since. Rangiku looked into giving blood once and realized that the most of donors to transplants didn't add up and the meat had to be coming from SOMEWHERE and oh wait that would explain everything huh.

There's a fun bit of play, I think, between the captains who knows Unohana is more than she at first appears, and the ones who haven't gotten a clue yet.

I may have wandered off topic.

MY POINT IS: Aizen doesn't kill captains when it makes tactical sense for him to do so because he is not capable of doing so. His whole strategy relies on not getting killed before he gets his godhood and up until he does, he's running like a rat.

Poor bastard.

If only he knew what was in store for him when he got there.

I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

[gorgeys]

post-crash jackie taylor who's depressed and starving, but fights for her survival because her only thoughts are of seeing you, her girlfriend she left behind.

jackie who lays awake at night, shivering despite three layers of blankets, with her glossy eyes fixed to the ceiling.  memories of you play behind her eyes, specifically watching you sleep on a lazy sunday morning.

if she thinks really hard, she can see you in her bed, lying face-to-face with her.  she can see your peaceful features and the slow breaths leaving and entering you nose.  she can nearly feel you reach out in your sleep, your arm encircling her waist or your head burying itself in the crook of her neck.  her heart melts just thinking about it.

she didn't realize how well she slept beside you until her many sleepless nights after the crash.  she would give anything to hear you softly snoring beside her again.

jackie who collects little pieces of nature that remind her of you.  a perfectly shaped leaf floats down from a tree and lands on her head.  she finds an unusually smooth rock by the lake.  she smiles at whatever it is, a sign from nature that you're still out there waiting for her, and keeps it in her personal collection.

jackie who purposefully doesn't wear the shirt she stole from your closet the day before she left so that it still smells like you.  every night, without fail, she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales like her life depends on it.  when she notices the scent starting to fade, silent tears stream down her cheeks.  she's losing you.

jackie who does, however, wear your cheer bow in her ponytail.  you had given it to her for nationals as a good luck charm, and now she feels like she has a part of you with her wherever she goes.  when one of the girls teases her for wearing it, she shoots them a glare so deadly they instantly seal their lips.

jackie who speaks aloud to you when no one's around, looking up to the sky for you.

"god, i wish you could've seen the look on misty's face!  it was hilarious.  you would've laughed so hard, you probably would've peed a little," she laughs, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, her fingers twiddling with your bow.

"do you still think about me?" she pauses for your response.  "d-do you think i'm dead?" pause.  "well, i'm not.  at least i don't think so." longer pause. "are you...moving on?  you better not." pause.  "she better not be prettier than me."

"i miss you.  so much."

jackie who can't even talk to anyone about how she's feeling because your relationship was never public.  it was always sneaky glances from across the hall and shared moments behind closed doors.  now, thousands of miles away from you, she regrets not loving you like she should have.  she promises to love you harder than anyone ever has if when you're reunited.

jackie who could spend hours staring at the polaroid she took of you.  it's a random one of you doing homework on her bed, your brows knit in adorable concentration.  it's the only one she has with her.  she keeps it in the back pocket of her jeans wherever she goes.

one time she loses it and runs outside, frantically digging around in the dirt on hands and knees to find where she dropped it.  in reality, she misplaced it on the kitchen counter where shauna finds it and recognizes the polaroid as coming from jackie's camera.  she asks jackie about it, who's still knee-deep in dirt, and jackie suddenly bursts into tears, confessing everything like word vomit.

although she nearly went into shock from losing your picture, it does feel nice to share her feelings for you with someone.  she feels a little less alone.

jackie who loves sleep, although it seems to elude her many nights, because it means seeing your face in her dreams.  it doesn't matter if it's a good dream or a nightmare, as long as she can see you again.  when she wakes up she keeps her eyes glued shut, greedily hoping she can fall back asleep and see you once more.

she ends up being the last up and first to bed.  the other girls think she's not pulling her weight, but how could anyone blame little lovesick jackie taylor ☹️

jackie who hated some of your favorite songs back home, but now finds herself humming them while doing daily chores.  she smiles remembering lying on your bed, watching you dance and sing along to them around your room.  she always told you to "turn that shit off and play some real music," but now she loves those songs because they represent you.

jackie who realizes how utterly devoted to you she is.  it wasn't as clear back home with so many distractions, but now that she's alone with her thoughts almost all the time, the only thing she can think about is you.  nothing else really matters to her or motivates her besides you.  it only took a plane crash for her to realize that.

jackie who looks up to the sky and promises both you and herself that she won't die before she sees you again.

jackie who is rescued (because she doesn't die, idk what you guys are talking about) and keeps that promise.

jackie who can't believe her eyes when she sees you for the first time.  for a second, she thinks she's dreaming.  she's had a recurring dream of this exact moment after all.  but, the when you start running toward her, she snaps back to reality and it hits her: it's really you.

she instantly bursts into tears as your arms wrap around her, the warmth of your embrace striking her like a train and grounding her at the same time.  she squeezes you so tight you might break a rib, her head burrowing into your shoulder.  she deeply inhales your scent and lets her tears trickle onto your skin.

jackie who doesn't let you pull away or say anything before she pulls you into a bruising kiss.  she doesn't care if the two of you are alone or in a crowded room, nothing matters to her except showing you just how much she missed you.

she pecks your lips repeatedly, whispering an "i love you" in between each kiss like it's her mantra.  it's heaven on earth.

jackie who sleeps beside you that night for the first time in nearly two years.  she holds you to her chest like a teddy bear as you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears until you fall asleep.  it's the best sleep she's ever had.

she wakes up the next morning and the first thing she sees is your peaceful face.  she watches the slow breaths leave and enter you nose and finds silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

jackie who knows the sleepless nights, insatiable hunger, and depressive episodes were worth it just to come back to you.

i love you lovesick!jackie please come save meeeeeee also jackie x cheerleader!reader 🤭

[dangermousie]

People complaining about the Argan plot on my TL. I'm indifferent to it because it does follow the novel and it's not one of those novel things that don't adapt well for TV.

But I can see the complaints about it being in the last episode. I'd rather it be in the penultimate episode and then have the last episode dedicated to them rebuilding their new life. Like choosing the Yu-yeon name.

Overall, I didn't hate the last episode. The leads carried the episodes. I think the ending with the SLs was pointless. I get that anything happens in a time jump, but we've seen no progression really of their relationship. It's like a quick way to wrap up their storylines. But SFL literally had no storyline or purpose. SML at least had a storyline, and he had a purpose in the first half (to indirectly help our couple be a couple).

That's the only choice I question, the need for the SFL (and SML). The SFL was especially a mess that even the writers clearly didn't know what to do. One minute she's fangirling over ML and gets excited and acts like she has a date with the married ML (which she knows he's married), then after that, nothing. She suddenly stops fangirling and acts normal and this is before she learns about HJ as his wife.

People like to complain, it’s human nature.

I liked the Argan thing because it was in the novel and also because I was already a kdrama fan 15 years ago when so many dramas liked to send their OTPs to exotic war torn locations for make outs and torture (see Swallow the Sun, IRIS and Lobbyist among others. Side note - STS had a secondary OTP of a mercenary and suicidal stripper that was very matter of fact and they got a happy ending to boot; when people say nowadays kdramas are so more frank about things - well no they are not.) So that was yet another delicious throwback about this drama.

Anyone who complains (as I saw) about this being unbelievable or too OTT has clearly not been paying attention to the genre - this was a crack melo from ep 1. It stayed in genre until the end. I totally get if it’s not someone’s thing but it didn’t really pull a genre rug on anyone.

I was quite happy with the amount of post-plot fluff we got. We got half an ep and seeing that dramas have a long tradition of giving us 1 minute before the end in terms of happy stuff, that felt downright luxurious (even in the novel, the bulk of post-plot fluff is in the extras not the novel proper.) To be fair though, I am not really a fluff person and don’t have much interest in watching fluffy happy dating moments of even my favorite OTPs unless it’s narratively done in the middle as we we watch in knowledge the hammer of doom is coming. So this take is informed by that. (Shen Li remains close to unique for me in loving the fact that the entire last ep is dedicated to their cottagecore bliss post the plot resolution. But Shen Li is an outlier for me in many respects - when something hits well enough even my normal preferences melt away. I mean I love Suppli and that’s an office drama.)

As to second ML and second FL agree they weren’t as developed as they could have been (esp SFL) but I am just happy they weren’t ship interlopers. I rarely care much for SML/SFL unless they have their own interesting narrative not revolving a love a square so my expectations are usually low.

Ultimate while I did have some niggles (where is my naming scene, where?!?), Phone ended up my favorite kdrama of 2024 by a large margin, over even Lovely Runner, Black Out and Goryeo Khitan War.

I hope its success makes kdramas make more of those type of old school, intense, romance melos but I have my doubts.

[russellsppttemplates]

Loooved your latest Franco piece! Buy now I can only think about y/n being Brazilian...u know Brazil and Argentina are hermanos up until football, right? It's an crazy old "beef". Imagine Franco and y/n bickering about football like Pierre and Kika, and George and Carmen...but with a ton of history to back them up. I'm sure it would be chaos🤣

“Franco, you know Flamengo is going to crush Boca Juniors in the next Copa Libertadores, right?”, Y/N teased, lounging comfortably on the couch, wearing a vibrant green and yellow Brazil jersey, "but don't worry, amor, I'll comfort you after".

Franco rolled his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, "you dream, Y/N - Boca is unstoppable. The Bombonera will be a fortress!”.

Your banter was a ritual as much as the sport itself. It all started when you had to cover for one of your colleagues in the factory right on the day of the game, so your negotiation was simple - you'd cover if they let you watch the game on your break.

What you didn't know is that there was also another person who not only shared your passion for racing but also for football, finding Franco focused on the screen as the game was about to start. What began as a quick exchange of words evolved to a never-ending match of words, neither willing to concede defeat as the rest of the team gathered to watch two football fans argue, too lost between their engineer and their driver to even witness the monumental match happening.

“Remember 2004?”, you fired back, referencing that unforgettable Copa America final, "Adriano, last minute goal? Ring any bells?”.

Franco groaned dramatically, "you had to bring that up, didn’t you?", he retorted, pointing fingers, "but don't forget 1990, when Caniggia silenced the Maracanã! Not a peep after that one!".

The atmosphere in the apartment was fully charged, the air crackling with playful hostility, but beneath it lay an undeniable camaraderie for the sport.

You cherished these verbal sparring matches because they bridged the cultural divide, transforming rivalry into steadfast friendship that had grown into the beautiful relationship you have now.

“Okay, but what about our World Cup titles? Five. A full hand of them! Count them!”, you grinned widely, your eyes twinkling with challenge.

Franco feigned a sigh of defeat before responding with a grin of his own, "maybe so, but we have Maradona. That's worth more than five titles!”, he said, wiggling his fingers.

As the day unfolded, your spirited competition continued, seasoned with laughter and mock-serious arguments. The television flickered with highlights and historic moments, each pause generating another round of passionate debate between you.

Dinner was a mixture of cuisines as well, with Franco insisting on empanadas while you insisted on adding feijoada to the menu.

As you settled down to watch a replay of an old Argentina vs. Brazil match, the laughter softened into something more profound. Your rivalry, no matter how vehemently expressed, was just a surface layer over your deep bond.

In the world of racing, you both pushed towards the same goal. In football, you were rivals, igniting each other’s passions.

“Franco", you mused as the game played on, “I think we might argue forever about who's better...”.

He leaned back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips, "Maybe. But that's what makes it fun, right? Besides, I think when our kids come around we might be able to make you switch", he spoke unabashedly as he saw you gulp, "or at the very least, there will be more of us to argue!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[alexanderwales]

Pitchposting: Retcon

The main idea is this: it's a narrative game where the majority of the gameplay involves placing the pieces of your own past.

This is at least partially lifted from some tabletop games that have "retcon inventory" or "retcon friends" where you declare in the middle of play "oh, actually, it's plausible that I had prepared for this all along, and here's how I did in fact do that", even if the player would have had no way of knowing what was necessary for that. (I have not had a chance to play Blades in the Dark, but I've been told that it features this heavily.)

So the whole game would be this: slowly adding to your own backstory, penning yourself in over time, until there's no room to maneuver anymore, and shortly thereafter, the game ends. The fundamental tension of the game is that you want to keep the character as amorphous as possible, to commit to as few details as possible, but commitment is necessary to actually accomplish things.

In my mind, there's a timeline of the character's life, and that's one of the main thing you're adding to. If you need them to have skill as a pickpocket, you need to account for that somewhere in the timeline, to define how and when they acquired that skill, and whatever time period that was suddenly becomes locked in place. Some level of proficiency in combat can be explained by a rough childhood or a hobby or just bits and pieces picked up here and there, but at a certain level you need to commit to having had multiple years of real world experience, a hefty bar slotted down into the timeline.

The basic appeal to me is that it sort of turns progression mechanics on its head. If you really wanted to, maybe you could slap everything onto the timeline at once, an entire defined life with every memory, skill, and contact determined right at the start. But this would almost certainly sink you unless you knew every twist and turn of the game ahead of time. And in this game "progression" does not come from increasing skills because you got better, it comes from defining the past. (Though there's no reason you can't also have material progression as you acquire more and better things.)

This is also, somewhat, what the process of writing can be like. You nail down things piece by piece, and over time, you're penned in, unable to move except along the tracks you've hopefully laid for yourself, no ability to introduce new things.

I'm not entirely sure what kind of game this mechanic is best suited to. A narrative game would be interesting, but the player is attempting to define as little of the character's past as possible, and ... does this even work for a narrative? The player's version of events is that they're (more or less) trying to keep backstory from happening, that's baked into the concept. It creates an uneasy tension.

A less narrative game, like an immersive sim, might work better. You decide that you spent at least three years as a thief in order to "gain" (i.e. have always had) lock-picking skills, with enough room in the timeline that you can add an extra few years if need be later on.

And of course this works for skills, but it also works for relationships, which I think is fun. In a normal RPG type game, you gain relationship points over time by being a good buddy, but with this framework, you would be revealing backstory that was "there all along". And depending on your needs, you can have this be different backstory, giving certain side characters the same amorphous nature, establishing different relationships with them.

The other option (since I'm a writer, not a game designer) is to try to import this idea into a work of written fiction, which ... might work?

You have your protagonist, and they know that they're a reality-warping amorphous blob, but they have some kind of goal, and they will lock in whatever backstory they need in order to accomplish that goal, while trying to stay cognizant of the fact that whatever backstory they give themselves (and the reader) is going to pen them in further. Maybe there's a nice little magic system to make of it, though I think that would necessitate some kind of reset mechanism.

It might be hubris, but I think I could probably find the structure that would make it work. Cool scenes:

The protagonist is acting in such a way to leave all his options open, which means that he wants to avoid a fight because that would mean either confirming that he can fight or that he can't fight, collapsing the superposition, so he's going out of his way to not have to make that decision.

The protagonist retroactively was always friends with a police officer who took him in, making all the chilly conversation they've been having the result of an ongoing grudge.

The protagonist takes a big swing and fills in a whole swath of his past at once, a major investment ... and one that upends his stated goals up to this point, recontextualizing the entire novel and making it "about" someone else.

Plus all that "standard" stuff to do, like retroactively knowing how to ride a motorcycle, handle a gun, hold breath for two minutes, etc.

I don't know, I think that it could work in prose, so long as you're clever enough about how and why you're doing things, and correctly explaining things to the audience.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Unhappy Trail

Pairing: Lim Jaebeom x female reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive

Tropes: established relationship

Warnings: body touching (not sexual), mild nudity, suggestive chatter at the end

Word count: 711

Author’s Note: I’m still devastated by the lack of happy trail in Jaebs’ showcase photos.

Snuggling in deeper under your blankets, you sighed sleepily. It had been a long day, and you were more than ready to nod off and get as much sleep before the daily grind returned for you in the morning.

You felt the mattress dip on the other side of the bed, and your body, despite how languid it felt, still moved in its usual ministrations. Jaebeom shuffled closer and your closest hand was already sliding over his naked upper body, feeling its way along his shoulder and over his pectorals, slowly descending his torso towards its usual resting place. For the longest time, you have found comfort in placing your hand in the same spot, and tonight was no exception. Your partner held his breath, which was different, as if he were bracing for your reaction. It was as if Jaebeom had forgotten to warn you about something until in the moment, confusing you momentarily. Was there something wrong with his body?

Your hand faltered over the top of his abdominals, and you peeked out of one eye. A dark stare looked back at you, a sheepish smile gracing his mouth.

In response, you dove your hand down further, Jaebeom sucking in a deep breath. Your fingers traced the smooth skin, searching for its usual comfort blanket.

“Y/N!” he gasped, trying not to laugh at your frantic pace over his skin. “Calm down.”

“Why did you shave it off?!” you lamented, sleep all forgotten about. Sitting up, you reached for the lamp beside you and flicked it on before turning your incredulous stare back to your lover’s exposed body.

If you hadn’t been so worked up, you would have laughed at the irony of your man now trying to cover himself up, when he was usually the most comfortable in his own skin when he was showing it off to you. Jaebeom let out an exasperated breath before replying with, “You know my showcase is tomorrow night.”

“And?”

“And I’ve been getting my body ready for my idol comeback,” he explained, and you nodded initially in understanding the logic.

Except, over this, you didn’t truly understand.

Jaebeom had never really cared about his happy trail. He’d been through so many scenarios during his career, both intentionally and not, where his torso had been exposed. In fact, you had an extensive photographic collection of the area on your phone – for scientific reasons, of course. You knew he had his own plethora of parts of your body on his devices too. And the dense bedding your hand usually slumbered within was always there.

Until now.

“It’s apparently more common these days as part of a strict image plan,” he mentioned with a shrug as you frowned. “Noona-Mindi said—”

“At least I now know who to murder,” you seethed, and Jaebeom laughed heartily, pulling you into his embrace and holding you tightly.

“No murder.”

“I’m serious! Your skin is so smooth there. Did you even shave it?” you wondered, and Jaebeom winced. You yanked back enough to look at him. “Did you get it waxed off?!”

“I can assure you that it’s not an experience I want to do again,” he confirmed, reaching under his armpits where you also noticed the lack of hair.

“The idol lifestyle isn’t for the weak,” you murmured, gently stroking his cheek with your hand fondly. Jaebeom leaned into your affectionate touch, rubbing into it as if he were one of your cats.

“It’ll grow back,” he pointed out, and you huffed, your hand pausing in doling out the love. Jaebeom attempted to make it move by rubbing his cheek more energetically into your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at him, giving in and obeying his need. He grinned. “We all know it won’t take long.”

“How am I meant to sleep without my routine?”

“Seriously? I thought you put your hand there because you…” He trailed off to smirk.

You gave him a filthy look. “Lim Jaebeom!”

“What? Isn’t it there for an early morning greeting?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“For that, I won’t be using my hand down there until it grows back!”

His expression turned to liquid sin. “So… your mouth then?”

“You are seriously not worth all this trouble.”

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist]

[genshindsau]

How would the harem members react if they found out they were pregnant with the Reader's child?

Because there are so many harem members, I will do the ones who I think will have a bigger reaction or are deemed more important in the publics eyes. If I don't end up writing about a specific individual that you wanted, please let me know!

One TW: In kaeya's there is a mention of miscarriage.

Diluc is expected by most of the court and the public to bear the first heir, which in other words has to be a female. I do think that he will be the one who gives birth to the heir even if there are a few... hiccups along the way. I also think that he would probably want to have a few children. Three at most. Part of this is due to his family's training and it being ingrained in him that he needs to give you children. However, I do think he does genuinely love his children (and the other harem members' children) and after the first birth he wants to have a few more but it was his choice.

As for when he found out that he was first pregnant, there are different reactions for different scenarios. However, overall he doesn't mind being pregnant, espeically not when it gives him a chance to be spoiled by you.

If he was the first in the harem to get pregnant, he would have a lot of anxiety and nerves. I imagine that the public and the council and court members would want to celebrate and make it a big show to the public. Something Diluc would feel highly uncomfortable about but he would also feel obligated to do as they say. Though you would shut it down the second you saw that it was doing more harm than good. However, with the support of you and some of the other harem members, he would enjoy his pregnancy, despite the discomfort and pain.

If other members of the harem already had children, there would still be anxiety, but there would also be a lot more pressure on him by others (court officials, etc) for him to have a male so that his child can be heir. This route could easily lead to him breaking down because of sheer pressure and he would probably let it build up without telling anyone until it all hits a breaking point. However, he would handle the pregnancy itself realtively well.

Ayato is an odd case. I do see him wanting children but not many, probably no more than one. Besides, he knows that with his position as Noble Consort it is expected of him to at least provide spares, so to speak. He is fine with this, he doesn't hate it but he doesn't love it either. When he first finds out he is pregnant, he is resigned. I imagine him and Reader already planned for him to have one so he knew it was coming up. I will say he was one of the ones who milked all the care and attention from reader while pregnant. If he is going to suffer through an uncomfortable pregnancy, he see's no shame in making sure he is heavily cared for.

However, he is relatively good with the children too because he grew up with a sibling of his own and the two of them had a very good relationship. With this in mind, I do see him considering having another child but then once the other harem members start having children of their own, he see's that it is not necessary for him to provide another.

Aether is the very serene with his pregnancies. It may have to do with the fact that he has the easiest pregnacies and births out of all of the harem members. In my mind, he takes the idea of 'glowing' to a whole other level. He is perfectly content throughout the whole process, taking everything with grace that leaves others wondering how he is functioning. However, once he finds out, I do think it would take a while for it to set in that he is pregnant.

Ajax wants a lot of children of his own. He grew up in a large family and despite the struggles they faced, he loved his siblings deeply. However, I don't imagine him being happy while he's pregnant. He is estatic at the idea of having his own children but he hates the way it affects his body. It makes him bed bound and lathargic and he can't move around or fight which leaves him uncomfortable and bit tense when others are around him. It is best to keep him separate from a few of the other more testy harem members.

Itto is estatic from the moment he finds out. While his pregnancy may be a bit rough towards the end due to his different body shape compared to the others in the harem, he hardly feels the pain. He is always looking for a bump and he is one of the members who is very comfortable with letting others feel it as well. He almost always has a hand on his stomach once it becomes more prominent. If he could, he'd love to build his own little army of his children.

Scaramouche would be one of the individuals who gets sick when he first finds out, his nerves working on overdrive, anxiety at an all time high. By the time he does come with child, I imagine there are plenty of children already born so he is more comfortable with the idea but there are lingering, unresolved doubts in the back of his mind. He secludes himself in the beginning, feigning that he is sick or unwell but not telling anyone. He wouldn't tell anyone but eventually someone (other harem members, servants, someone) would find out and would alert you. It is only after a few months and support from those around him (this is, in my mind, years after he joins so he is not as hostile or closed off anymore) would he become more comfortable and even excited. He handles the pain remarkably well.

Kaeya is a unique case when it comes to his first child. If he is still struggling between his loyalty to the reader and his family, he would, in simple words, detest being pregnant because his mind is riddled with anxieties: his family would try to use the child as a barganing chip, something to raise their own standing. He doesn't want to subject a child to that and honestly, he'd be so torn it wouldn't be surprised if he miscarried. However, if it is years later when he is not as heavily bound to his family, he would still feel a bit anxious about learning he is pregnant but he'd be less anxious and a bit more calm throughout the pregnancy.

Really wants children of their own:

Diluc

Aether

Ajax

Itto

Kaveh (really wants at least one but he is very hesitant to ask because by he is a bit older than most of the other harem members and the public considers him past the proper age)

Doesn't particularly care either way. Isn't a fan of the pregnancy itself but will love their children.

Ayato

Albedo

Thoma (Is adored by all the harem members' children but is in no rush to be pregnant himself. He is perfectly fine helping the other members with their children but would not be aversed to having his own)

On the fence, or, in other words, may not want one when they're younger but may be more open once they get older.

Scaramouche

Kazuha

Kaeya

Heizou

Gorou

Zhongli fits here as well. He may not be a harem member offically but he has fanacized about having a child with you. But he is hesitant because he never wants to be put in a position where he cannot be your knight or feel like he cannot protect you.

Absoultely does not want children of their own:

Al-Haitham

Xiao

Venti

[liminalpsych]

Queer Reading of the Vulgate Cycle pt 1: Preface

Some context on 1. this readthrough and 2. the Vulgate Cycle in general!

I've read large chunks of the Vulgate Cycle all out of order, sporadically, but I haven't read it from cover-to-cover yet. I want to remedy that, though I want to read it through a queer lens. (Also a trauma psychology lens, but I don't have a good shorthand term for that.)

The Vulgate Cycle (aka the Lancelot-Grail Cycle, the Prose Lancelot, or the Pseudo-Map Cycle) is an Arthurian romance composed between 1215 and 1235-ish, by Anonymous. Who may have been one person, but more likely was multiple authors. (I'm in the "multiple authors" camp, I can see no other explanation for the dramatic tone shift of The Quest for the Holy Grail. Or the History of the Holy Grail, for that matter.)

It's a massive text. It attempts to "elaborate the full story of the Arthurian era and to set that era in a framework of universal history" (so writes Norris J. Lacy in the preface to the translation).

The History of the Holy Grail (originally the "Estoire del saint Graal") - actually one of the last sections to be written, even if its contents come first chronologically. Traces the early history of the Grail and Grail-keepers. Lots of Bible fanfic bits in this one. My least favorite section (I find it tedious and dull).

The Story of Merlin - also one of the last sections to be written. Focuses on Merlin and his role in Arthur's conception, birth, and coronation. Also focuses on Arthur's early days as king, and some of his early knights (young Orkney brothers!), and Arthur's early relationship with Guinevere (back when things were really good between them).

Lancelot Proper (aka Le Roman de Lancelot, Lancelot propre, or just "Lancelot du Lac") - Lancelot's life and adventures (and everyone else's adventures that end up vaguely connected to him) from birth until… right before the Grail quest. Divided into 3-6 parts by modern scholars (Lacy divides it into 6, so that's what I'll be going with).

The Quest for the Holy Grail (La Queste del saint Graal) - My second-least-favorite section; it's less tedious and dull than the History, but it's such a departure from the tone of the rest of the Vulgate Cycle, and it feels like a text designed to convert people to Christianity (and that may indeed have been its intended purpose). It's possible that the tone shift might be because each sectio nhad a different translator, but I don't think that explains it sufficiently.

The Death of Arthur (La Mort Artu) - the most readable section, imho, and probably my favorite. It promptly unravels all the purity nonsense that Quest put into place (feels like when a show gets a new showrunner for a season, and then the old showrunner gets the reins back a season later and is doing damage control on all the weird turns that the interim showrunner took), Lancelot and Guinevere get back together, and the story leaps into intense drama and beautiful tragedy.

Then there's the Post-Vulgate, which is basically just a grimdark and more religious rewrite of the Vulgate, minus the Lancelot Proper. Lots more Grail focus. I don't know if I'll do a readthrough of it or not.

The specific translation notes in the Preface are fascinating, and I highly recommend them (I love translation notes), but the most relevant bit is this:

"…the translators have tried to steer a middle course. Our primary concern was to present a reliable and readable text to modern readers, but we have also made an effort to retain a certain number of the stylistic features of the Old French romances, provided those features were reasonably compatible with the characteristics of modern English usage.

Lacy warns the reader that the History of the Holy Grail has "a convoluted, dense style" far more than most texts of the period. (It's so tedious, do not recommend.) "The author appears to be far more concerned with substance and symbolism… than with concision and grace." They've cleaned up the text in some places but overall kept the characteristics of the style. If this is the more accessible version, I would not want to read a literal direct translation. D:

Next up: Introduction (more translation notes) to the History of the Holy Grail.

[smytherines]

I think I never got to ask you more about spyverance au, so any headcanons you want to share? 👀👀👀

Ooohhhhh yes spyverance headcanons!!

This isn't super spoiler heavy I guess, but if anyone has an interest in watching Severance you should definitely do that first, because otherwise most of this probably won't make sense:

So. Spyverance.

I mean God. The mental image of Curt crying in his car every morning before going into his new severed job at Chimera has not left my mind since I watched the show

I know I said something about their severed selves being spies, but that poses some narrative issues I haven't figured out yet, so this is all just assuming that it's Lumon but it's called Chimera. The same setup as the show.

outie!Curt definitely keeps a flask in his little personal effects drawer. And assuming it's an 8 hour day, he drinks as much as he can before he gets into the building, and after maybe an hour or two of work innie!Curt would start to feel sick. Hungover at the very least (which he has no frame of reference for) because the alcohol has worn off, gradually feeling the physical symptoms of withdrawal more and more by the end of the day. By the time he gets in the elevator to go home he is shaking and sweating, and as soon as outie!Curt gets off the elevator he reaches for his flask

We don't know what exactly happens on the testing floor yet, but I think some sort of "factory reset" for stubborn innies is a strong guess

I said this before, but it bears repeating that even though outie!Curt is desperate to erase his memories and not have to experience half his days, innie!Curt is still Curt. He's stubborn, he's impulsive, he hates being caged up in the same boring room doing the same boring job. He would definitely cause problems and end up getting sent to the break room, possibly even the testing floor, until he cooperates

So Curt goes through about a year of that, while Owen is still strictly outside recovering from his injuries, building up relationships in Chimera, building power. Maybe Owen wants to be able to forget some of the time, or maybe Chimera needs one of their own on the severed floor for whatever reason, or a little bit of both, but eventually he wakes up on the table, and Curt is giving him that little entrance quiz

I think Owen would respond the same way Helly did. Trying to attack his way out, and when that fails I could very much see him waging war on his outie self the same way Helly does.

The same way that innie!Curt has always been drunk, hungover, or in withdrawal, and just believes that is everybody's baseline, innie!Owen has always been in pain. I keep imagining him with a prosthetic leg from the fall. His shoulder and chest are constantly pinching and sore and itchy. At some point he lifts up his pant leg for whatever reason and realizes that he is missing a leg. He panics, like fully has a ptsd crisis, but of course he has no idea how that happened or what it means that everyone else appears to have two legs and Owen only has one.

I imagine a scenario where Curt accidentally runs into Owen and spills coffee on him or something. They go into the bathroom attempting to clean him up, and there's a moment when they get too close and all that sexual tension stirs up. But when Owen takes his shirt off to scrub at the stain they both see the massive burn all over his shoulder and chest, which kinda kills the mood.

And Curt, after all his time in the break room and on the testing floor, uses this to say something like "clearly something happened to your outie, so maybe it's better for you if you don't remember it."

And it sorta works, in that Owen stops trying to escape for a little while. Stops trying to injure or threaten his outie self. But beyond the physical issues he has from the fall, there's also emotional and mental issues that he has no context for. He might not be able to remember the incident, but his body and his mind still do. So I imagine outie!Owen starts panicking every time he gets in the elevator to go down to the severed floor, because he remembers being trapped and injured and helpless in a Russian prison cell before Chimera came along and offered him a way out. And by the time innie!Owen gets off the elevator he is shaking, but has no idea why. That due to the head injury he has seemingly random vertigo attacks. Sometimes he feels fine, but tiny things will trigger intense paranoia or explosive anger or panic, like he's sharing his mind with some strange feral animal. And it terrifies him.

I could very much see outie!Owen giving the "I am a person. You are not." speech. Thinking of his innie as a thing, a tool to be used to further his plans. And I think, in a way, he would also resent his innie for being able to forget the incident that outie!Owen cannot stop fixating on. He would resent his innie for getting to move on, to work without all those mental burdens when he cannot.

God I have so many thoughts on both of them and how they would manage all of this, but I want to get to the overtime contingency so I'm gonna move on

I still love the idea of Tatiana as our Petey. So let's say she joins up with Chimera and takes a severed job on the condition that her family will finally be safe. Maybe she's there for a year or so before Curt shows up. She and Curt build a close friendship on the severed floor, and then Tatiana ends up reintegrating and leaving (which is when Owen shows up)

I don't want Tatiana to die, so let's say she has a less disastrous reintegration than Petey does, but I do still love the idea of her occasionally becoming mentally unstuck in time. Not just not being able to tell severed vs unsevered time, but maybe also sometimes reliving parts of her extremely traumatic childhood.

Tatiana reaches out to outie!Curt, she wants to save her friend, but she struggles significantly with the reintegration process so it's easy for Curt to initially dismiss her as crazy. And even though Tatiana is saying things he absolutely does not want to hear, because to him severance is how he has survived Owen's death, he's still curious. He starts gradually asking questions.

Tatiana is hiding out in Curt's basement, because Chimera is hunting her down, and eventually Curt starts to open up to her about why he took a severed job. Explains his relationship with Owen and their work and his own feelings of guilt and shame. They start to become friends again on the outside.

Somehow the innies are able to trigger the overtime contingency (I still have to figure out who else is in the Chimera MDR department), and innie!Curt and innie!Owen are able to experience the outside world.

Owen couldn't be the public face of severance the way Helena is, because then Curt would know he's alive, so instead innie!Owen wakes up in an apartment. It's well-decorated and luxurious (Chimera took care of that) but he is frantically scrambling to find any clues about his outie, and there is nothing personal. No family photos, no keepsakes, no sign of any personal life at all. Just a lot of weapons, and a lot of paperwork that he can't parse (although curiously it all has the Chimera logo on it).

There's a knock at the door, and some Chimera underling has been sent to give him a reminder of some Chimera thing, a meeting or gala or whatever, happening soon. And the underling is trying to score points by praising whatever outie!Owen has been up to while working with Chimera.

innie!Owen is still kinda dazed, he's skimming through his outie's closet still trying to figure out who this guy is. The underling says something that makes it clear that Owen isn't just some guy who took a severed job-- he's part of Chimera. He has power over the program. He didn't build the system that has been slowly eating away at innie!Owen, but he maintains it. Finds new cruelties for it. And the moment he has that realization, he sticks his hands into the pocket of one of his jackets, and pulls out a picture of him with his arm around Curt (in my head it's that Szol Christmas postcard tbh). And that's the last thing he sees before he gets cut off.

innie!Curt wakes up in his house. I like to imagine that instead of Ricken's terrible book, Curt finds a spy novel someone left behind. He hides it and reads it over and over again, not knowing why he's so fascinated with it. So innie!Curt finds a few pictures of he and his mother, some personal effects he has no context for, but the spy novel taught him that sometimes people hide things in interesting places, so he starts knocking on baseboards and wiggling loose bricks, trying to see if he has any secrets stashed away.

Eventually he finds a stash of letters, pictures of him and Owen, all the ephemera of a relationship. And not really thinking about why those would be hidden, he thinks that he and Owen must know each other out here, that they have a relationship on the outside. So he starts calling for Owen through the house, except obviously Owen is not there. But Tatiana is, still hiding out in Curt's basement to avoid detection from Chimera.

Tatiana comes upstairs to figure out what all the fuss is about, and innie!Curt sees his beloved friend-- someone he never thought he'd see again-- and crushes her in a hug. He explains that he's the innie right now, and Tatiana tries to figure out what they should do with that information, how they can use it. But as she's sort of thinking out loud about it, Curt asks "where's Owen? He needs to be here for this."

Tatiana looks confused at him, and says, "he's dead, Curt. He's been dead for over a year now."

And at first she thinks that Curt just doesn't want to accept it, but then his eyes go wide and he just quietly says "Owen is alive down there." And then he gets cut off too.

I could genuinely talk about this forever because there are so many interesting thoughts, like:

-- if this is a technologically advanced 1950s, how different would innie curtwen be with each other if they have no concept of homophobia?? No idea that the attraction they feel is not socially acceptable. Sure, innies aren't supposed to fraternize, but that's different than growing up in a culture where your sexuality is openly regarded as a crime and a perversion. I lean towards a technologically advanced 1950s because I like the idea of their pre-canon relationship being the same, and all this taking place in Severance's ambiguous near-future where a man can be married to a man would fundamentally change their pre-canon relationship

-- Cynthia Houston in the Harmony Cobel role? Being cold and distant and shitty and work-obsessed, yet having an odd attachment to Curt for whatever reason

-- I like the idea of Barb and Tatiana having a sorta Burt and Irving dynamic, maybe with Barb working in a different severed department. But I also think Barb would be fascinating in a Mr. Milchick role too. Being sickly saccharine, with that constant unnerving threat of violence. Using the break room and testing floor as her own personal science experiments (oh Barb Larvernor, you have such potential as a fucked up little evil scientist). If it's not Barb, the Milchick role is played by Brian Rosenthal in my head

Okay okay, this is like 80 paragraphs so I'm gonna stop now. But yeah. Thinking about spyverance a lot lately

[lesiasmadness]

RIGHT??? RIGHT? BUT YEA I THINK THAT WAS INTENTIONAL

It was a swing and a miss on my part but up until that scene where Luke runs off to the statue I was convinced that the game was aiming for some sort of conflict between Luke and Layton, since every other event in the stroy was a hit to Layton's status as Luke's parental figure. Layton teases Luke way more in this one, brakes his promise to Flora and then proceeds to treat her coldly, runs off often, and it's not as explicit but I think Luke also picks up on his apprehension towards Big Luke, but while Layton clearly at least suspects it's not Luke at all the whole game, Luke himself believes Clive so on his side of things it looks like Layton is just critical of and not too warm towards what Luke will grow up to be. On top of that there is the first dualogue near the statue where Luke gets a glimpse at how Layton views their relationship, plus there's moments like this

Also I don't know how intentional that is but a lot of NPC interractions now involve Luke practically on his own and Layton doesn't step in where I'd expect him to. I have sincere beef with Layton for letting that one NPC be a creep towards Luke so many times in a row. I'd usually write it off as Layton believing he can't go against what a lady wants but than look at how he treats Flora.

Aaaaand a cherry on top is that people keep saying that Layton will become a terrible person and abandon Luke constantly

For the most part I thought it was a result of Layton being preoccupied with being thrust back into his biggest unsolved case and personal darkest hour of his life, that he's letting the gentle parental guide persona slip under all the stress, but after it's revealed that he knew Luke would be moving away I'm convinced that he's deliberately slowly letting Luke peek behind that shield he's put up, because Luke has to get used to being independent and acting without progessor's comstant guidance and protection, plus maybe a dose of reality will make it easier to leave the professor behind emotionally.

So what I thought was a set up for a third act breakdown between Luke and Layton, maybe even leading to Luke actually believing Layton could become his "future self", was actually a set up for their relationship to instead evolve into a more genuine friendship on more equal terms, since Layton lets Luke in on his more real thoughts and emotions, and trusts him to do his own thing, and Luke gets closer to seeing professor more as a friend and less as a guide (I had a whole thing in a different post... about how Luke writes "your friend and apprentice" in his letter at the end after never letting Layton say "my firend" when introducing Luke before...)

SO YEA I THINK HE'S GENUINELY PISSED AT LAYTON FOR BREAKING THAT PROMISE

I think he's having a moment of dissolutionment with the idea of Layton as a perfect role model that he's had in his head since the events of Last specter

I'm just leaving these two sequences here, do with them what you will while I go cry in the corner

[tackykachowch]

Don't care if it's a hot take or not, but the most complex, interesting, and arguably even the funniest, trio Jinx ever has in the show is with Silco and Sevika. And the only reason why it's not popular in the fandom is because the other two are "the bad guys". Well, not even Sevika is, because apparently Silco's death automatically stripped her of all of her past actions and moral grayness she had. But Silco is a big scary bad man who eats children for breakfast, so he can't possibly have even a littlest bit positive and interesting dynamic with Jinx and Sevika, what are you even talking about.