#I haven’t had enough free time to even doodle them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zwy01 · 10 months ago

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Reiner doodles!!!

Ahhhhhh my little prince boy!! He’s finally here!!! He’s HERE!!!

This is my OC, Aretis Verja Di Reiner! He is Razark and Raskreia’s son, and the latter’s heir.

I haven’t gone in depth with his backstory yet, so I’m going to do that here. He’s one of my 15 “main” characters of my Millennium AU and his full bio is up in my pinned post.

A brief recap on Reiner’s family. Typically, Reiner is an only child. His hypothetical full-sibling and younger sister Lorenda Roxanne Di Gloria does exist depending on how the mAU storyline is interpreted, which is very flexible in itself. If Gloria exists, she is born after Reiner runs away from Lukedonia. She is not a “100%” existing character in my mAU, which is why she isn’t in my lineup featured in my pinned post.

I love Reiner for his complexity and I’ve hardly even mentioned him at all. Ahhhhhhhh. I’m like, SO excited to finally talk about him. I’ve been waiting for this moment for four years since his creation!!!! And he’s by far one of my most layered characters, which is also why I’m not sure about how much I’ll be able to get through in this post. Probably won’t even be able to fit in most of his backstory in one go but I’ll do the best I can to cover major points. He’ll definitely get more posts of his own in the future, so what I don’t get to finish here, will go there. And you may recall me mentioning how I will expand on Gloria’s backstory as a two-in-one with Reiner’s character post. As of now, that won’t hold true anymore because Reiner’s own stuff turned out to be much longer than what I had expected so I think I’ll end up giving Gloria her own post. (She deserves her own post despite being a situational character. Looks like there will be 16 posts total, haha) Yay! My precious Reiner’s partially complete backstory.

Before I jump right into Reiner’s story, I want to give a little more context on this AU in general because I feel like I haven’t clarified exactly why this AU is not a happy one, but an angsty one. The answer is Lord Raskreia. Presumably everything goes well post-ending in the post-canon timeline. Crombel’s nukes are dealt with, Raskreia takes her two Clan Leaders back to Lukedonia, and life goes on etc etc. That is the “good ending” for Raskreia and the general noble population. Basically your happily-ever-after ending. (In this timeline, Reiner is nonexistent because Razark is dead, and he stays dead. Reiner is replaced with Raskreia’s son whom she has with Kei, with the latter serving as the soul fragment donor. That’s a lot of new information at once. But the post-canon timeline kidlord deserves his own post so that’s for later. He actually made a brief appearance in my crackship nextgen post so feel free to check it out!) This is where my mAU thematically diverges from canon. Razark being alive isn’t even the main focal point of this AU. In my mAU timeline, Lukedonia is ruled by the “bad ending” Raskreia.

To be exact, Lord Raskreia who doesn’t take the canonical series of events very well. I mean, just think about it. Traitor nobles, werewolves, modified humans, bloodstones, satellites, nukes… they just kept coming. And it all happened during her reign, right under her nose. The world was in danger, and Lukedonia was in danger. They were more than fortunate enough to save Razark in the nick of time before the traitor nobles were able to finish him off. Raskreia and her two Clan Leaders were more than fortunate enough to return safe and sound after facing Crombel’s nukes head on. Now what? To think that all threats have been eliminated, and that the world is finally at peace, would be rather unrealistic. Too optimistic. After all, just look at what happened. For this exact reason, Raskreia feels uneasy and she is unable to relax. She can’t guarantee that the possibility of future attacks is at 0% …none of them can. It is unlikely, but you can’t just ignore the what ifs. Thanks to these series of events, Raskreia more or less decreed that Lukedonia would continue to stay on guard in a half-emergency state. Everyone must be vigilant and prepared to respond to emergencies anytime and anywhere. Admittedly, they were a bit underprepared during the most recent, and hopefully the last invasion of Lukedonia. To her, this was a wake up call. The world has gotten more dangerous as it developed. And it will continue to develop at fast pace. So she called for action. The guards’ training program doubled in intensity and duration. Those who did not show substantial improvement were deemed under-qualified, got removed from their posts and then replaced by faster, stronger, and more qualified individuals. Raskreia also assigned more people to patrol duty; along the coast, in the forest, in the mountains… until every last inch of Lukedonian land had eyes monitoring it. She enforced evacuation drills at regular intervals. She established a new alert system. Ludis, along with many other nobles, were called in to investigate and enforce the barrier of Lukedonia in hopes that a stronger barrier with increased resistance to being deactivated would make Lukedonia harder to penetrate. The list would continue on. To summarize, Lukedonia is now harder to enter… and harder to leave. You know what that entails.

In my mAU, the Clan Leaders’ relationship with Raskreia also takes a different approach to canon. They are still extremely loyal to her and will respond to her commands without hesitation. Except what’s different here is that they are not so sure if they trust her completely. This could refer to many things, but it’s mostly pointing to Gejutel’s incident during the first Lukedonia arc. The Clan Leaders pretty much witnessed their Lord almost executing Gejutel, her trusted advisor and one of her most loyal subjects who also served the Previous Lord during his reign. All because of a misunderstanding and suspicions that she didn’t even bother to fully investigate. She was willing to accuse and execute him just like that. So the man who dedicated his life to serve her, and her father, only meant that much to her. Fortunately the misunderstanding was eventually cleared thanks to Raizel’s timely intervention. Had it not been for the noblesse, the old man would’ve met his tragic fate under a false treason charge. Did Raskreia even apologize to him in the end? And… what does Gejutel think of her now? The Clan Leaders don’t know what Gejutel thinks of this entire incident, nor does he ever bring it up. As curious as these Clan Leaders are, they know better than to ask Gejutel himself, as it would be impolite. If he didn’t complain, then none of them can. Gejutel’s loyalty to Raskreia seems to remain the same, at least from what they can observe. But they can’t help but think… what if they were in his shoes? How would they feel? After all, Raskreia proved that she was willing to jump to conclusions and execute a reputable, loyal subject like that in an almost whimsical manner. Just, you know… does this mean that them witnessing Gejutel’s almost-execution is simply them getting a glimpse into their own future? Will their Lord still be as immature? What will the future even hold for them? Sure, they are still loyal to her, by both their own choice and their duty. But again. They couldn’t help but think in that direction.

And that wraps up my brief overview of my mAU! Hope that answers some questions, and gives a little more context on why Raskreia and Reiner act the way they do in my storyline. Without further ado, let’s get started on Reiner’s story! Yeahhh!!!!

We already know that Reiner is the heir to the throne of Lukedonia. It is a fate to which he is tied since birth, and one he can never separate himself from. He is meant to follow in Raskreia’s footsteps and succeed her as Lord one day, just like how she succeeded his grandfather, and his grandfather’s many, many ancestors before him. He shall become the next ruler of Lukedonia who will protect them and guide them to prosperity. Reiner the great and glorious. Eeeexcept his future is neither great nor glorious. Reiner gets depressed, ditches his identity entirely, and runs away after his attempt to reform Lukedonia into a democracy fails. Currently, he is permanently on the run with his mother and her elite search party coming after his head. Reiner adopts a human name, disguises himself, and works part-time jobs in the human world all while skillfully evading whoever is after him. He’s a fugitive on Lukedonia’s most-wanted list, but he’d take that over being the prince of a suffocating noble country. Anything but that. And we will witness how his story unfolds, from his early childhood all the way to his escape many years later.

On Reiner’s general character. In terms of appearance, Reiner resembles his maternal grandmother Desdemona very much. A mysterious aura, beautiful eyes, and wavy black hair that turns into a wonderful crimson shade under the sun. Personality-wise, he also has some of Mona’s stubbornness when it comes to firmly sticking to his beliefs. But it’s not just Mona. Reiner also takes after his maternal grandfather, the Previous Lord. Their personalities overlap quite a bit. Just like the Previous Lord, Reiner is charismatic, outgoing, has his sense of humor, and is open to new ideas. Despite being stubborn at times, Reiner can also be quite flexible, especially when it comes to keeping up with the ever changing world. But Reiner is even more upfront and vocal about it. He himself is the change; he doesn’t need to wait for it to happen. And he doesn’t want to wait. Back then, his grandfather voluntarily entered eternal sleep with his Clan Leaders to pave way for the new generation. And Reiner? He would much rather witness change with his own eyes. He doesn’t just want to believe in it, he wants to see it happen real time. Reiner will be there to implement what he envisions by being the person to lead them all. He wants all the nobles to live up to their fullest potential, and he has confidence in himself that he will be able to figure out something that works for everyone. Reiner is positive about the future. He will be a responsible, caring Lord who has everyone’s best interest at heart. His bright future awaits him. Not only will he be his people’s leader, he will also be their friend. It will be his responsibility to guide them as their equal. And when he passes, he will be remembered as a great Lord.

Except this side of his personality never got the chance to develop. This is the Reiner that could have been if he had the opportunity to grow up under the right circumstances. Precisely, if he had the luxury of receiving ideal support coming from both his family and his people. Reiner was basically robbed of his full potential, and one that he will never get the chance to make up for. You can’t just redo your childhood and early adulthood to replace what had been missing all along, which means his pain will last for a lifetime. The current Reiner is sad, defeated, doesn’t want to interact with anyone, and gave up on his identity altogether. In fact, he doesn’t want anything to do with Lukedonia in the slightest, even if they pardoned him and invited him back. To see why this is, we will have to go back to the very beginning, to Reiner’s toddler days.

Reiner was a good child. He was polite, kind, generous, and always kept an eye out for the needs of others, as if the world and everyone around him lived inside his little heart. His precious, delicate little heart. He truly cherished them all. In Reiner’s eyes, the people of Lukedonia were more like his friends than his future subjects. The nobles all greeted him with utmost respect and addressed him as “Prince Reiner”, and even though Reiner did not fully understand why everyone was so formal with him, he very much enjoyed the attention. And of course, being the polite kid he was, Reiner would bow back and say “thank you very much!”, to which the nobles would be very flustered, beg their prince to get up, and even go as far as to blame themselves for making their prince bow to them. At the same time, they were also very flattered to know that their prince thought so highly of them.

And Reiner did! It wasn’t just to be polite from his end. Reiner respected and loved them just as much as they did for him. Anyone can tell you that Reiner was a nice boy. He made sure to never be on only the receiving end, and always went out of his way to reciprocate his people’s efforts. He didn’t need to do so as being served is one of the perks that came with his birthright as prince, but he never let that stop him. He was full of enthusiasm. Reiner helped Minerva’s librarians shelve their books despite being only a smidge taller than a large houseplant. He assisted Doris with her journal entries on effects of different soil types on crops, writing in his own tiny notebook with his tiny hands. He tended to Claudia’s garden of herbs and harvested, cleaned, and dried the plants with her. He eagerly followed Ludis and his knights around during patrol duty even though he was too small to keep up with them. At home, he offered to dust his residence along with his maids and greet the guests at the door with his butler. Even when no one was around, Reiner bowed to the stone statues outdoors and thanked them for watching over Lukedonia, and brushed dirt and twigs off their heads and shoulders.

Reiner loved his people, and he loved his country. His passion was unmatched. Reiner had won over most people in Lukedonia at a very young age. If you needed help or looked like you needed help, you could count on little Reiner. He’d stand upright, give his chest two firm pats with his tiny hand, and say “Allow me to assist you!” How adorable. Aww. Soon enough the citizens of Lukedonia learned to not refuse their prince’s offer to help with their mundane tasks because they saw how happy he was to be a part of them. Everyone seemed to be impressed and proud of their prince… except for one. Or, at least she doesn’t show it.

Despite Lord Raskreia telling Reiner that he will become Lord after her, and that he must prepare himself for that role, little Reiner didn’t quite have a full grasp on what being Lord means yet. But that’s okay, because he is still so young. He has all the time he needs in this world to learn what it means to be Lord. His father Razark would smile, pat his son on the head, and tell him that one day, everyone in this land will be under his care, so he needs to grow up to be strong and smart to protect and lead them. To which Reiner would always smile and answer “Yes, Father!” with sincerity. Little Reiner understood that he will have to work harder than anyone else, but he was certain that he’ll do a good job. He has to. He’ll do it for his people, he’ll do it for himself, his father, and… his Lord. His beloved mother, though he’s not allowed to address her as such. Right. His Lord, his ruler, and Lukedonia’s one and only. She’ll be proud of him, right? Even if Raskreia never explicitly stated that she looked forward to her son’s accomplishments and that she’d recognize him for his excellence, Reiner just knew that she would. He was hopeful and optimistic. After all, he’s her son! Razark could sense that his little son yearned for his mother’s approval, despite it being one he knew she wouldn’t be handing out freely. Razark also knew how stoic his wife could be sometimes, so he would tell Reiner that the Lord has… her own way of showing her feelings, and even if she doesn’t openly display much enthusiasm, he’s sure she’d be proud of her boy. And that is all the reassurance little Reiner needed to hear to be happy, to have his father praise him in his mother’s place. It was a short-lived happiness, but it was genuine for as long as it lasted; until the delicate illusion that ever so gently and sweetly veiled the harsh truth was inevitably torn down and Reiner’s innocent little soul was no longer shielded from the woes of reality.

As soon as Reiner became old enough to start his rigorous training in both studies and fighting, he was no longer allowed to roam around freely as he wished. He had a schedule set for him, with little to no room for deviation. It was the standard operating procedure. Raskreia followed it in her youth, and so did the Previous Lord and the Lords before him. It was tradition. Reiner had to obey whether he liked it or not, as this was a mandatory obligation of a prince. Reiner was only 15 years old at this time, which is the equivalent of a human preschooler. As soon as Reiner had his 15th birthday, Raskreia decreed that it was time for him to begin his training as part of his Lord succession lessons. Reiner obeyed his Lord and did as she ordered, albeit a bit begrudgingly because he did not like idea of endlessly rotating between tutors and having to sit inside a boring classroom all day. He did make sure to not let his true feelings show, because Raskreia is his beloved mother, and above all else, he wanted to make her proud. As much as Reiner missed being able to roam around Lukedonia to interact with his people with all the free time he had, he was determined to do a good job at his mother’s assignments. He will study hard and not be distracted by anyone or anything. He even stood in front of a mirror, pointed to his own face, and made a promise to his reflection that he would do everything his Lord prepares for him. “Good job. You’re brave.” He said to himself. This was not an easy feat for Reiner, as he already knew how much he would crave being out there doing mundane tasks. But it was the right moment to put all of that behind. It took some time and a little bit a courage, but Reiner was ready. Now was the time to live up to his title of Prince of Lukedonia. Poor Reiner. In hindsight, perhaps it was too early, and he would’ve done better if he had more time to be a child instead of future Lord.

Reiner was not an academic genius, he was still better than average. Time proved that his efforts paid off. Little Reiner kept up with his tutors and went through piles after piles of books and papers. While he did not cruise through the material, he was able to make progress without falling behind Raskreia’s schedule for him. Reiner believed that he was pretty average though. Perhaps he was unaware of the fact that he was doing a very good job, given how strict his mother was regarding his education. At times, Reiner did feel the urge to zone out, count the tiles on the ceiling, daydream about being outside doing fun things with other people…etc. He even thought about skipping class because listening to his tutors’ voices echo in the study room was anything but interesting.

But Reiner had a lot of self-discipline. He did his best to not let himself be distracted, and he did a pretty good job. And if he doesn’t do it now, he’ll need to do it later anyway. Most of all, the Lord would be disappointed in him, and that was the last thing he wanted to see: his mother’s disheartened expression. He’ll make sure he does everything ordered of him, if that means he’ll get praise from her. Anything is welcome. Good job, you’ve worked hard, that’s my little boy. If the Lord praises him, maybe he can even stop daydreaming about his freedom. All these tedious tasks would then have meaning to them. But not once did the Lord drop by to check on her son’s progress. Little Reiner always had his eyes and ears on the windows and doors of his study room in anticipation of his mother’s arrival. Unfortunately, his wishes never came true. Each time his disappointment increased as the footsteps he so eagerly followed were revealed to have belonged to one of the Lord’s many assistants. Sure, the Lord sent them herself and they were tasked to check on their prince, but that doesn’t change the fact that they weren’t… her. He wanted to show his mother how much progress he made. Make her proud. Yet not once was she willing to come in person. And her assistants were not helpful either. They never praised Reiner for his work, only to take notes and report back to Raskreia if they came to the conclusion that Reiner was about to fall behind. That’s literally their job. They were in no place to interfere with their prince’s classes, even if he was only a small child who needed emotional support. Reiner started to feel trapped, and classes felt more like prison sentences than lessons.

Fortunately, Reiner’s training wasn’t all about pen on paper. Sparring lessons were like a breath of fresh air to him, and he always looked forward to meeting people on the training grounds. At least he didn’t have to sit still and listen to a tutor talk all day. He could actually interact with a “real” person out in the open, and he could stretch his limbs and move around to his satisfaction. How nice! As with Reiner’s academic skills, he was no fighting genius either. His grasp on his little wooden sword was wobbly and his swings were less than smooth. His aura conjuring was unstable and at times, it either dispersed completely or messily exploded. But with perseverance and effort, and lots of patience from his mentors, he was able to get a decent grasp on things fairly quickly. Raskreia assigned her most elite fighters to Reiner to help shape him into the impressive warrior he must become as part of his succession training. He had mentors who specialized in offense and defense, and some that specialized in being all-rounders. Reiner would begin to develop a very special way of defensive fighting. His mentors were very impressed with their young prince. And for Reiner, getting his clothes sweaty and his knuckles bloody was definitely more fun than watching a tutor talk all day. And unlike his tutors, his fighting mentors were much more enthusiastic and open to communication outside their spars rather than just deadpan reciting an old piece of history while refusing to have any small talk. His mentors were fun people. Reiner had a good time. But something still felt like it was missing. Like with Reiner’s daily academic checkpoints, the Lord’s assistants would also come to the training grounds to take notes on Reiner’s progress. They jot down something in a notebook, take a few glances at him, and they leave. Yet again, his mother was nowhere to be seen. She did not bother to come to see him recite a passage flawlessly, nor did she make an effort to watch him skillfully defend himself from a mentor’s forceful kick. Reiner’s mentors would notice his sudden mood switch and ask their prince what’s wrong, to which Reiner would always respond “nothing”. And now he has to clean up and go back indoors to finish his essay on Lukedonian history, before he can even get a chance to relax. Sigh.

Studying after sparring. Sparring after studying. Back and forth. For almost every single day. Reiner started to grow tired. But he never let himself relax. He pushed himself, and he consistently grinded through the challenges presented to him just like he had always been doing since Raskreia put him on this training regimen. His brain and body, one of them was always busy. Yet Raskreia was never absent from Reiner’s mind. Whenever he made progress, he always instinctively thought about her witnessing his good work. He sustained himself by coming up with and replaying imaginary scenes of his mother giving him the praise he deserves. The real deal never bothered anyway. She still relied on her assistants to monitor Reiner’s progress. As days went by, Reiner began to lose hope and he no longer anticipated his mother’s arrival and involvement in his training. Sometimes, it’d cross his mind, but then he’d shrug it off. Nope. Don’t think about it. It’ll just make him feel sad. Can’t give himself that false sense of hope. Fortunately, for him, his mother isn’t his only source of hope. One day, as his tutor announces that class is over, he hears some footsteps… and he senses something familiar. It isn’t his mother, nor is it one of her assistants. It’s… his father!! Little Reiner is more than overjoyed to have his father pick him up at the end of the day. Usually, the butler or one of the maids do it. Not today! At least Reiner can stop pouting for now. Razark would give his son praise and tell him he worked hard. This would soothe the faint, aching feeling in Reiner’s chest. While it did not substitute for affection from Raskreia, it was still better than nothing.

Not only was Razark more involved in Reiner’s early life, he pretty much remains as Reiner’s only parental figure throughout his son’s time in Lukedonia. Functionally, his role is pretty similar to that of single parent’s. Raskreia is simply too busy to be involved in Reiner’s life. She is Reiner’s biological mother, but she is also her people’s Lord. She had the duty to attend to her subjects. And… her son can get by without a mother present in his life, but Lukedonia can’t be without their Lord. That’s what her husband Razark is for. Right. She has him. He’ll be there for their son, in her place. And the title of Kertia Clan Leader now belongs to Rael, so Razark has all the time in the world for Reiner if he needs parental support. That’ll work. Their son would have company, and she could carry on with her duties as Lord. Surely that is the best arrangement. Or, at least that’s what the Lord thought. Logically, it made sense. Realistically? Asking her preschool-aged son to compromise probably wasn’t the fairest thing to do, but they had no other choice. And Razark, being the loyal husband he is, did as his wife suggested. And he did what a good father would. He monitored his son’s progress, played with him, and they talked about the old days. About that time when the traitor nobles invaded Lukedonia and how they ultimately fought them off with help from the noblesse, how the Lord stopped a missile with Rozaria-nim and Kei-nim, what his paternal grandfather Ragar was like, even funny stories about uncle Rael’s embarrassing shenanigans… they had a good time as father and son. It didn’t make up for Raskreia’s absence, but Reiner nonetheless appreciated his father’s efforts very much.

However, this did not stop young Reiner from asking his father questions about his mother. After all, she was still very much of an important presence in his life even if he wasn’t necessarily part of hers. He asked his father if the Lord didn’t like him, or that she was disappointed in him, like any child would if they felt like a parent didn’t want to be with them. Razark always reassured his son that the Lord loves him, but she is just too busy. Out of respect, Reiner does not press the matter any further. And their conversations always ended there. Did Razark manage to convince Reiner? No. As much as Reiner wanted to believe his father, he needed to witness it with his own eyes. Reiner loved Raskreia and he missed her. She was everywhere, yet she was also nowhere. She could be in the throne room discussing matters with her Clan Leaders, checking in on the coastal borders, on a diplomatic meeting with some humans or werewolves… if something needed her attention, she would always be on the way. And out of all those things, she couldn’t find time for her son. If Reiner was lucky, he got a short glimpse of his mother from below the balcony or through the window. His eyes follow her longingly, ever so hopeful that she would turn around and look at him just once. Yet she simply walked straight ahead and her back view vanished from his sight as she hurried to her next destination. Those few seconds would be the last of her that the young prince gets to see for a whole week.

Reiner refused to believe that this is how his life will be. If his mother didn’t come to him, then he will go to his mother. How will he make that happen then? Reiner obviously couldn’t ask his servants. The other Clan Leaders and nobles were in no position to authorize such a thing either. And his own father Razark seemed to avoid answering his questions that hinted towards wanting him to be the bridge for him to meet his mother. If he couldn’t get realistic help, then he’d come up with something on his own. Reiner pondered for some time. Then he came up with a genius idea. What he did not realize at this point was that this would go on to be a complete disaster and the first major traumatic event of his life that would permanently change him.

So Reiner snuck into one of Raskreia’s offices when she wasn’t there. Earlier, he happened to overhear one of her secretaries talk to a colleague about their Lord’s next meeting and the documents she had prepared for it. The perfect opportunity. With a bit of searching and standing on his little tiptoes, Reiner was able to find exactly what he was searching for. He took out the crayons he stuffed in his pockets and scribbled something on the papers. Then he carefully closed the documents and put them back where he found them, hoping that Raskreia would be overjoyed to see what he had prepared for her. And it’ll happen very soon, because she’ll be opening those documents for her next meeting. Reiner was very proud of himself. He left her office with a big smile on his face and went home in anticipation of good news.

The time came. The Lord summoned her subjects to their scheduled meeting and her secretary passed the documents into her hands. Raskreia opened the folder and… instead of words on paper, as it should’ve been, her eyes met a colorful scribbly mess. She was shocked and confused, and wondered who on earth dared to mess with the Lord. It couldn’t have been one of her secretaries or assistants, because they were dutiful and dared not to tamper with their Lord’s belongings, let alone meeting documents they knew their Lord had prepared to present. Then Raskreia took a closer look at the scribbles and finally pieced together what it attempts to depict. It was more than intentional, and the culprit did not mean to stay hidden at all. It was even a deliberate effort to catch her attention. Right there on the paper was a childish crayon drawing of three figures holding hands on a flower field, with “I love my family” and “I miss my Mama” written below. As badly drawn as it was, Raskreia had an idea of who these figures were meant to depict. The smaller one stood in the middle, smiling happily, and to his left a taller one, drawn with a black crayon. Then to his right an even taller one drawn in yellow. This was exactly what she suspected it to be. It had to be. The other nobles at the meeting were shocked as well, but before they could fully comprehend the situation, Raskreia’s aura suddenly exploded into the air like a shockwave and the office was heavy and drenched in her rage. The walls and ceiling began to shake and pieces fell to the ground where cracks had formed. All the nobles dared not to talk and nervously held their heads low in response to their Lord’s wrath. They were not sure if the Lord’s anger was directed at them. But Raskreia had someone else in mind, one she realized she had failed to discipline. …Reiner.

She immediately summoned her son through their mind link, but it was done so forcefully, all the nobles within a few kilometers heard her and felt her fearsome tone. And of course Reiner did not anticipate this reaction. He had imagined that if his mother does summon him, she would invite him in, give him praise, and hug him while telling him she’ll never leave him alone again, and from now on they’ll spend a lot of time together. He daydreamed that his little drawing would melt her heart and make her realize how much he loved her as her son, in hopes that she’d reciprocate his affection. Except… the final result was the complete opposite. The Lord was livid. Reiner dreaded the entire walk to his mother’s office, and he could feel his legs shaking and telling him to turn around and run away. He was panic-stricken, his fingers went cold and his limbs tensed up. Then he stepped into her office. There was no warm welcome, no greeting, no interaction between mother and son. Oddly enough, his mother did not reprimand him. There was nothing to break the dreadful silence in the room. And perhaps that silence was much worse than his mother yelling at him. Then Reiner’s memories blur. To this day, Reiner is not able to recall what happened after, as it was too traumatic for his little brain to fully process at that time. The only thing he can vividly recreate in his mind is the scene of a dark room. There was no sunlight, as the clouds had darkened, and candles blown out. And in the darkness, Reiner saw his own reflection inside two glowing crimson orbs of coldness and fury. His legs would not stop shaking despite his every effort to stay still in front his Lord. And then it hit him. In this moment, he was no longer her son. He was a criminal. Reiner can’t recall anything else. Or, maybe he doesn’t want to. Any attempt to do so would be a ruthless act of reopening the deep scar inside his little heart, and he doesn’t need to hurt himself any further. Perhaps he even tries to suppress this event to the best of his ability in an attempt to completely forget it, which he does to no avail.

Reiner’s memories only resume its tracks at him being punished to a week of solitude inside his room. Messing with the Lord’s belongings usually warrants a much harsher punishment, but Reiner was only a small child. Even a week of a being left alone was too harsh on him. But the Lord would not have it otherwise. And for the entire week, Reiner sulked and curled up in the corner. He didn’t even notice day and night passing by. Seven days felt like seven years. He did not understand why his mother was so angry. If fact, he had never seen his mother like this in his entire life. Reiner felt something for the first time. He had no place in her heart; of the one he loved so, so much. His mother wanted to disown him, and his Lord wanted to execute him. And of course that would be untrue and very delusional, because no Lord would ever do that over something so trivial. Reiner was just overthinking. But in the midst of the mess, that was all he could comprehend with his little mind. He will never be Raskreia’s priority. Compared to everything else she had to do, he was a nobody. Nothing. He was her subject, but he was no son to her. Lukedonia needed her, and he needed her as well. She chose the former. Then Reiner woke up from his illusions. She would never approve of him no matter how hard he tried. Receiving her unconditional love was just as much of a myth as humans dreamed of mermaids and dragons.

And for the first time in Reiner’s life, he cried. He sobbed. His wails echoed through his room, and no one was there to hear him. Then Reiner calmed down. Once again, Reiner stood in front of the mirror. This is the second promise he makes to himself. Except this time, he swore to himself that from now own, he will never call her his mother again. He can’t be greedy or selfish anymore. She will only be the Lord. His Lord. And he will be her subject. Nothing more. This would be the first and last time Reiner ever cries.

Reiner’s punishment came to an end when Razark unlocked and opened the door. Reiner could’ve broken himself out of solitude if that had been what he desired, but he was responsible and accepted his punishment. Furthermore, he would just upset his Lord again, and she’d have to punish him once more. Father and son did not greet each other verbally upon their meeting. Slowly, Razark approached his son, who sulked on the floor, and sat down next to him. He gently stroked Reiner’s head with one of his hands as he held something in the other. “This is for you, my son. Do you want to take a look?” He said in a soft voice, and his low-spirited son lifted his head slowly. Razark passed the box to Reiner. It was a plain, black box. Reiner opened the box and he was greeted by a small handwritten card inside that read “To Aretis Verja Di Reiner”. It was his Lord’s handwriting. Reiner carefully picked up the card and flipped it over, but he found no other text. It was just his name. Then Razark gestured to his son to take a look at the content. Inside the box were two items.

The first item was a thick envelope that held many copies of the same form. Reiner took one out and read it carefully. It was a form for an official request to meet the Lord in person. The standard procedure. This was Raskreia’s way of telling her son that if he wanted to meet her, he had to submit a request just like everyone else to ask for her audience. Essentially, Raskreia was reminding her son that he was no exception, even if he’s the prince. But this was also an invitation, in a sense. Reiner, albeit in a less desirable manner, had successfully conveyed to Raskreia that he wanted more private time with her as her son. And Raskreia responded, even if it she did it in a confusing way. She basically reached out Reiner from her end. Sure, it was strange, but it sure was something. A proof of her efforts. If Reiner wanted to spent time with the Lord, he could fill out a form and deliver it to one of her secretaries, and they would then add it to one of her many piles of forms to approve. If she approves Reiner’s request, he will get a chance to meet her. What an overcomplicated and unnecessary process of parent-child bonding.

The second item was a toy. It was a small, fluffy black teddy bear with red gems embedded into its eyes. Reiner was perplexed. Was this… Raskreia’s attempt to apologize to him? He could not be certain, but he had a feeling that Raskreia intended for this to be her substitute for when she isn’t around. This teddy bear was to serve as her replacement for when he missed her. Reiner was not sure on how this was supposed to make him feel. He doesn’t even like teddy bears, or toys in general. So far the Lord had spent so little time with him in his life, she wasn’t even aware of his preferences for things. Still, this teddy bear had a very significant meaning to it, as it was the first gift his Lord had ever given him. It was an item with great sentimental value, despite being one laced with sorrow and regret. To this day, Reiner has this teddy bear stored inside a thrice secured display cabinet inside his room. It sits inside a sturdy glass case, fixed with a complicated maze lock, all encased inside a layer of Ludis’ special barrier charm. It will never leave his residence, let alone his room. Every now and then, Reiner would take it out to play with it, and lock it back up when he’s done. The maids are not allowed to go near the cabinet, as Reiner stated that he will do the cleaning it himself. They would stay loyal to this order of his even after his departure from Lukedonia. Funny enough, Reiner never names this teddy bear, probably in fear that it would come alive if he did.

We move on from Reiner’s early childhood to his teen years and early adulthood. Reiner attends his lessons as usual, and performs his duties as prince. But before we dive into that part of his story, I want to talk about the deal with his parents first.

Raskreia. Truth is, Reiner is not entirely correct with his assumptions about what his existence means to his mother. In fact, he is very wrong. It is not his fault either, because anyone would’ve guessed something similar if they were in his shoes. Raskreia does genuinely love her son. She has loved Reiner since he was born, and she still loves him after his eventual departure from Lukedonia. He has always been her little one, and he’ll always be. He has a permanent place in her heart. But Raskreia also struggles to express herself. This is Raskreia’s biggest flaw as a parent. Raskreia’s sense of pride and the need to uphold her position as Lord even with her family hurts her relationship with her son very much. Just as much as her son misses her, she misses her son. The feeling was mutual, yet Raskreia never acted upon it. She couldn’t. She had a standard she had to uphold as Lord, and that is to stay faithful to her duties and to not let herself be distracted by other elements, especially considering all the mess they and the noblesse had to deal with in the past millennia. They had to stay alert, and Raskreia as Lord was busier than ever. She must lead her people and respond to them in a timely manner. She had to be professional, even if it means ignoring her own son unless he has a dire emergency, which he does not. At least from her perspective. Reiner is more desperate than ever.

Raskreia simply could not dedicate time to her son on a regular basis. That’s why the request-to-meet forms are there for him. She cannot promise him her guaranteed presence, but she’d approve of it when she can. Maybe thirty minutes at a time. That is her limit. Maybe twenty, or ten, if she really can’t squeeze more in. Occasionally, she’d have an hour for him, though that is an extremely rare luxury.

And… She needs to prepare her son for the position of Lord. Yes, Reiner has a family, but most importantly, he has a duty to all the nobles in this land who will require his leadership one day. He does not have an option. This is the fate that he is destined to carry on his shoulders since his birth. It wasn’t Reiner’s fault for being a needy child, a normal child who needed love and affection to thrive. Except Reiner is also Lukedonia’s prince. He needs to learn to put his personal needs below the duties to which he is tied, even if it means setting his own important feelings aside. That is an essential skill a Lord’s successor needs to master. Raskreia can’t just grant her son’s every wish. She doesn’t shut him out completely, but she also keeps some distance from him. She can’t let him be too attached to her, as that would be unfavorable in the long run for him as future Lord. She will only respond to him when he asks for her, but she’ll never be the first one the reach out if he doesn’t ask. It would be cruel to Reiner if he got to see his mother as often as he liked while knowing that he has to detach himself from her one day.

Regarding the doodle incident, Raskreia was actually… touched by her son’s efforts, as a mother. She understood her son’s love for her. But as Lord, she couldn’t show it. She had to maintain her professionalism. What was seemingly a touching gift from son to mother, was in reality a very disrespectful disruption of her work. Little Reiner trespassed, and vandalized official documents. As touched as she was, she couldn’t encourage that behavior. It just wasn’t acceptable. She had to address the situation and issue her son’s punishments accordingly. Everything was decided by the book. She had to show her fellow nobles that she was fair, and that she does not condone misbehavior from anyone. Their Prince was no exception. That is all.

What they do not know is that Raskreia didn’t dispose of those documents. In fact, she has them locked away somewhere with a protection charm to keep the crayon’s colors from fading over time. She had to be angry with him, but… she treasured this gesture as well. Every now and then, she’d take out the drawing and stare at it, and then lock it back up. You can say that they really are mother and son, despite their challenges and differences.

Raskreia would continue to remain mostly uninvolved in Reiner’s live for as long as he’s still in Lukedonia. The two of them would go on to never resolve their issues verbally, and despite their love for one another, the miscommunication and misunderstandings would only continue to snowball into bigger messes. Their relationship is very, very strained but neither wants to be the first to initiate a reconciliation, nor is any one of them willing to let go of their own sense pride. Deep down, both of them yearn for each other’s love so, so much, but their own issues mixed together with reluctancy on certain things just makes matters worse.

Razark. Reiner’s functionally “only” parental figure in his life, and the healthier one of the two that he technically has. He’s actively involved in Reiner’s life as his father and mentor, as he’s free thanks to passing his title (and soul weapon) to Rael. He entertains and keeps Reiner company. He’s really trying his best to be Reiner’s father. Except… Razark’s efforts has its limits. In fact, the older Reiner gets, the less helpful Razark is and he actually starts to hurt his son unintentionally, with Reiner eventually losing trust in not only his mother and Lord, but in his father as well. Yeah. It’s angsty. We’ll have to look into Razark’s relationship with Raskreia for an answer. The two of them are a loving couple, even if they don’t appear such way in public. As emotionless as their faces may be, they are quite affectionate when they’re by themselves. People just don’t get to see this side of them. Razark’s official title is the Lord’s spouse. He is a responsible husband who takes care of their son, and manages the household in Raskreia’s place. But he is also Raskreia’s subject. One of her many, many subjects. The nobles are all loyal to her. Amongst them, Razark stands out as exceptionally loyal. Maybe even too loyal. And this loyalty would prove to be detrimental to their son. You see, Razark enables Raskreia’s behavior, even if he himself is unaware of it. Not once had he attempted to intervene Raskreia’s way of “parenting” their son. Giving her suggestions, telling her what she’s lacking, encouraging her to see their son more often, reminding her that their son is still their son before he is the prince, etc… none of that. As a husband and father, it would be logical for him to do that. As a subject, that would be questioning his Lord’s decisions with her heir. Not their son, but her heir, and that would be mighty disrespectful. And it’s not that Razark is refraining from communicating with her. These things simply never crossed Razark’s mind. His blinding loyalty to his wife and Lord means that he never questions any of her decisions, including ones involving their son. He will stand by Raskreia’s beliefs, because she is always right. She is their Lord, after all. And the Lord is meant to be followed without question. You can assume how this goes. Razark is supportive of his son, but he never tries to get Raskreia to notice him more. He knows that Reiner is lonely, but never addresses the direct cause of his unhappiness. All these years, he never stood up for Reiner, even when he very much should’ve. Always on the sidelines, watching Raskreia handle their son as she pleased. In a way, Razark is just as guilty as Raskreia. He put his Lord before his son, even if he is oblivious to this fact. He just deals with the aftermath regarding Reiner, and never takes on the role of actively supporting Reiner by being the change his son needs. And Reiner could not ask his father to help him, as he was in no place to challenge his father’s loyalty and decision to unconditionally follow their Lord.

At this point, Reiner doesn’t know if he trusts his parents anymore. He still loves them very much, but he can’t put his full trust in them. This love would go on to be very twisted, especially for his mother. Reiner loves her just as much as he loathes her. As for Razark, Reiner is grateful to him for being the father who raised him, but he is also disappointed in him for never standing up to his mother for him. He does feel like his father betrayed him, in a sense. Poor boy.

Back to a now older teen/young adult Reiner. Reiner is busy with lessons and successor training as usual. He has a lot less free time than other nobles of the same age, but he still has some to himself. Despite Reiner’s wounds from his parents and rather unideal childhood, he is still the kind and generous child he has always been. He still helps ordinary nobles with their mundane tasks, and enjoys interacting with them. His passion in people miraculously stayed unaffected despite his circumstances. Because Reiner is so busy, he shows up less frequently. Nevertheless, he manages to not miss out on being there for his people because he promised that he’ll come. The nobles are extremely honored and grateful that their prince makes an effort to interact with them despite being so busy, in awe that he insists on dedicating the remainder of his scarce free time to them. He probably has much more important matters to attend to, they think. But what they don’t know is that mingling with his people is his passion and, ultimately, what it means to be prince. The current Lord goes around to assigning tasks to people and they are meant to follow her without question. And Reiner? He believes he should be one of his people. Not as future Lord, not as Prince Reiner, but just Reiner. He is in a position higher than any of them, and for this exact reason, he is also responsible for their well being. That means doing so by walking along the ordinary people to understand what they really need in life, and not by sitting on the throne giving order after order. To Reiner, the position of Lord is more symbolic than it is technical. That is why Reiner is so active with doing good for the community.

Unfortunately, it is time for Reiner’s lessons to be taken to a further step. Raskreia updates her son’s training regimen and his lessons are even longer and more intense than before. In addition to individual tutors teaching him different subjects, he is now also obliged to attend lessons aimed at simulating real-life Lord meetings, tasks, and discussions. Basically, he has a seminar group assigned to him, with all of his mentors carefully hand-picked by none other than the Lord herself. The roster is made up of her most loyal followers whom she trusts to shape Reiner into the Lord she thinks he needs to be. This is Raskreia saying that Reiner is ready to move onto the next phase of his life. Reiner is not too happy about this change, but he follows the Lord’s orders without complaints. He doesn’t appreciate how her assistants now follow him around even during his free time to remind him that it is time for him to go back indoors to attend his lessons. He can tell time by himself; he doesn’t need the Lord’s little lackeys to interrupt him when he’s washing herbs and have them drag him out of the garden while telling him that he’ll be late if he doesn’t leave soon, and that princes do not engage themselves in such shallow matters. Sigh. The Lord is so overbearing even when she isn’t here.

Reiner is back indoors and ready for his mock conference. His mentors have high expectations for him, as he had shown that he is capable of academic success through his childhood accomplishments. Except this is where things don’t go smoothly anymore. His mentors would present him with hypothetical scenarios and ask him what he would do, and Reiner’s answers always contradicted what was expected of him. He told them that the throne is meant to be shared, and it did not belong to one person just because they were born into the position. He argued that the throne should only be a symbol of leadership and not a source of power that lets one decide the fates of others, and that people should get to decide on things as a group. Not just Clan Leaders, but ordinary people as well. This would confuse his mentors very much, and Reiner would explain to them that a healthy nation does not let the decision of one overshadow the decision of all others. His mentors were in disbelief, and scolded their prince for playing a humorless prank during such a formal lesson. Unfortunately for them, Reiner is dead serious. They don’t believe him. No one wants to listen to him. It makes sense. They are the Lord’s loyalists, after all. They aren’t having it otherwise. They seem to be satisfied when Reiner gives them the standard answer, the one they want to hear. So they’re not here for discussion, they’re just here to put words into his mouth, Reiner thinks. But Reiner knows better than to argue with them, so he stops speaking for himself, and submits to the suffocating echo chamber. His unhappiness and frustration intensified. So did his resentment towards the stubborn Lukedonian laws and traditions. His bitterness towards the system would plant a seed of rebellion in his heart that he himself did not even realize was growing inside of him.

Things weren’t any better on the training grounds. From Raskreia’s assistants’ judgement of Reiner’s progress, he leaned too much towards defensive fighting. In other words, he was lacking in offense. But that is just how Reiner fights, and it comes most naturally to him. The Lord thinks otherwise. So, she pulls out his mentors who specialized in defense and replaces them with offensive fighters. They are faster, more aggressive, and do not hesitate to land unforgiving blows on their prince. This transition was a little too abrupt for Reiner, as he had almost no room to allow himself to get used to this new type of fighting. His new mentors are also much less lenient than his old mentors. They are much harsher with Reiner’s perceived lack of improvement. This would lead to the second major traumatic event in Reiner’s life, where he fails a fighting test and gets pushed too much and ends up almost dying from his wounds. Healers from the Volo Clan had to be called in to address his injuries. As Reiner laid down on the ground groaning in pain, one of the Lord’s assistants monitoring the training grounds simply walked over, and in an flat tone, informed their prince that “The Lord intends to remind you that in a real battleground, not only would your enemies not spare you, they would also kill you.” Wow. How cold. Not even a word of care or concern. As usual, the Lord doesn’t bother to show up to check in on her severely injured son. This would only go on to twist Reiner’s view of the Lord even more. He continues to suppress his feelings and follows her orders without question. He changes his fighting style to be more offensive even if it is difficult and unnatural for him.

He won’t say anything. He can’t say anything. He has to be a good son and a good prince. If following in his Lord’s footsteps is his destiny then… he’ll do so. He won’t ask questions anymore. He’ll stop resisting.

His Lord’s wish is his command.

For this reason, Reiner never brings up any of his concerns during his one-to-one meetings with Raskreia, the “submit a request and wait for approval” mother-son bonding time. The two of them would just awkwardly sit across from each other. Just silence. Occasionally, they’d talk about the weather. But that’s it. Reiner also finds it hard to look at the Lord in the eyes, so he just looks to the ground, only meeting her eye to eye when he answers one of her boring, awkward questions. And they’d continue to sit like that, until time is over and Raskreia has other guests to see. Reiner would always leave feeling bitter. Yet he never stops submitting his request forms, because that would mean that he had given up on facing her and that he had lost his battle with himself. He’s not afraid of her. Nope. Impossible. What a spectacular, twisted love and sense of pride.

As time went on, Reiner started to feel numb. He stops standing up for himself. He simply does what is asked of him. Only a husk of him remains now. Even his passion in his people started to dwindle. He still loves them with all his heart, and wants to be a part of them very badly, but his energy levels are no longer enough to sustain himself. Reiner is being drained from the inside out, and he could feel the few remaining ounces of motivation slowly leave his body. He wants to care, but can’t care anymore. He doesn’t even care about himself; what does he have to spare for the others?

Reiner has finally cracked from the pressure of being the perfect prince.

Gradually, Reiner’s progress slowed down. He still shows up to all his lessons, but he can’t quite keep up with the pace anymore. He really is trying his best. He’s doing everything correctly, yet he’s failing. Reiner is depressed. As usual, Raskreia’s assistants report back to her. Her response? Tells him to pick himself back up and return to normal. A future Lord does not have time for this. The Lord doesn’t care, she never has, she never will, Reiner thinks. Raskreia’s way is easier said than done. Reiner is already very stressed out. His Lord is only adding fuel to fire.

Reiner develops many unhealthy habits as a response to stress.

He pulls his hair out when he feels nervous. He’d run his fingers through his hair, twirl around for a bit, and yank on it forcefully. It hurt, but the pain eased his anxiety a little.

Reiner also started to talk to himself. A lot. He’d talk to himself when he’s studying, when he’s running errands, when he’s sitting still… he just couldn’t be left alone with himself. He is unable to be at peace with his own presence, and has to fill the empty space with his voice. The silence was too heavy as if it would crush him. The things he says are mostly self-deprecating phrases. Not smart enough, not fast enough, not strong enough. Too weak, both physically and emotionally. Too easy to fall under pressure. Can’t handle anything. Reiner constantly belittles himself. Again, it barely eases his discomfort.

Sometimes Reiner would also stand in front a mirror and tell himself to cry. Crying makes people feel better, he says. Try it. He’d lean forward so his forehead presses against the mirror. No matter how hard he stares at his reflection or how much he shames himself for not being able to be honest with himself, the tears just won’t come out. And he’d try and try and try and fail every single time. He’s too tired to even cry.

Reiner is also constantly in pain. His neck, shoulders, arms… his entire body is constantly aching. His muscles hurt. This is caused by him not being able to relax. He’s always alert and anxious, as if the Lord is behind his back watching his every move. He has to stay in posture, to be respectful and to not be a disappointment. It doesn’t help when Reiner would sometimes even hear her voice inside his head telling him that he’s a failure of a prince, and that Lukedonia cannot be entrusted to him. Shut up, shut up, please leave me alone, Reiner dreads. Inaudible painful whimpers would make their way out despite Reiner clenching his jaw as hard as he can as to seal away his sorrow.

Reiner’s would-be paranoia also lead him to suppressing his aura routinely. He doesn’t even realize he is doing this. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough for him to go unnoticed by your average noble in an average situation. He’s of the Lord’s lineage, so of course by nature he has a very strong aura. To Reiner, this is a curse. It’s like blasting his arrival, wherever he goes, on loud speakers. So he does as he needs to counter that. The only thing he wants to do now is to lie low and stay unnoticed. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to him. Even positive attention is undesirable. Reiner’s subconscious wants to make himself as small as possible as part of his defense mechanism. Unfortunately for him, he is still detectable, and he has to maintain his weak, forced smile in public. Doesn’t help that Raskreia has now assigned him to greet werewolf and human diplomats as part of his new duties as a public figure. It is nothing but torture to Reiner.

Reiner’s free time is now spent either alone and locked up in his room, repeating self-deprecating phrases over and over to himself, or he’s with his maternal grandmother Desdemona. Only she truly understands him. But even she chooses to lurk in the shadows, so she can’t keep him company unless he goes to her. At this point, Reiner is reluctant to spend time even with Razark, because he’d just be reminded that this man is his mother’s enabler. Razark doesn’t understand why his son is not enthusiastic about father-son bonding anymore. Reiner would just tell him that he’s busy with studies. To be honest, he can’t stand his father.

Reiner also can’t stand his mother. His paranoia worsens. The thought of her alone is enough to send him into a panic attack. Like Reiner has always done, he doesn’t seek help from anyone. He just locks himself up until he calms down. Poor Reiner doesn’t know how to ask for help.

As soon as Reiner became old enough to have to some power over the household, the first thing he ordered was to renovate everything he owned. His study, his bedroom, etc. Everything that reminded him of his Lord, his classrooms, and general sources of discomfort, were to be thrown out or torn down and rebuilt from scratch. Even just seeing the same wallpaper pattern is enough to cause a panic attack. Reiner still has to go outside to attend class and perform his duties, but at least he doesn’t have to be reminded of them when he’s at home.

Reiner ordered his servants to burn everything they threw out and tore down. He wanted no trace of any of it. Curiously, the teddy bear his Lord gave him in his childhood was spared. Reiner precisely ordered them to leave it alone. That stays. Everything else goes.

Renovating his surroundings would only help to a certain extent. It did not remove the source of his pain, to his dismay.

Reiner is dying. He is alive, but his soul feels like it is disintegrating. He doesn’t even know who he is anymore.

One faithful day, on one of Reiner’s temporary escapes from reality, he visits Grandma Desdemona who lurked in the shadows. She suggests to him the option of leaving Lukedonia permanently. Huh. That’s impossible. It’ll be a huge crime and act of betrayal. Grandma just shrugs and says you won’t know what’s best for you unless you try. Reiner pretends that he didn’t hear anything. But this single piece of seemingly absurd and impossible suggestion would be an important catalyst to his ultimate choice. Remember the seed of rebellion inside his heart? Mhm.

Reiner can’t get Mona’s words out of his head. Whenever he’s in a difficult situation, he’d think about it. He would still hear Raskreia’s voice in his head due to his paranoia, but her voice would be overridden by that of his grandmother’s. “You can always leave this place.” She says. With repetition, the impossible becomes possible. Soon enough, Reiner was considering leaving his home forever. To the unknown, to faraway land. He feared the possibilities, but he was also hopeful. He hadn’t felt hope since his childhood. Then Reiner realized that he didn’t have to figuratively kill himself to become the Lord everyone expects him to.

And what does being Lord even mean to Reiner? Once he becomes Lord, he’ll be permanently separated from his people by an intangible barrier. He’ll no longer be Reiner, and he’ll only be known as the Lord. No more being with the people. He’ll be imprisoned to his throne for all eternity, until his hypothetical future heir is old enough for him to abdicate or he enters eternal sleep. To his core, Reiner believed in a democracy. It didn’t matter if none of his Lord ancestors established one. Someone needs to be the change. The first. And he doesn’t want to wait until Raskreia steps down to see this happen. Perhaps due to Reiner’s now realistic option of leaving Lukedonia, he is more daring. His childhood dreams and passions felt like they have returned, and though not to their full extent, it was the push he needed.

Then Reiner decided. He doesn’t want to be “Lord” anymore. He doesn’t want to be Prince. He doesn’t even want to be Reiner anymore. If giving up his identity means that he could have one single shot at changing Lukedonia, he’d risk it. If he can’t have a democracy, then he doesn’t want any of this. This land and everything he had ever known since his birth… he’d give it up. Reiner already has a very estranged relationship with Raskreia, and there is no hope for reconciliation despite their love for one another. It has to be him, or her. This land cannot tolerate both of them at once.

It took Reiner centuries of preparation, from Mona’s initial suggestion to his final decision. Most of this time was spent saying goodbye to everything he loved. The grass, the trees, the mountains. He’ll miss the way seasons change. The blooming flowers, the falling snow. The way sunrise illuminated and colored the land. The way the sea reflected the beautiful moon. The singing birds, the fluttering butterflies. It’ll never be the same outside Lukedonia. And… the people. His family. His friends. His acquaintances. It brings him great sorrow to think that he’ll have to part from all of them, and that he’ll never get to see any of them again for all of eternity. He’ll never stop loving them no matter how hard he tries to put his love for them to an end. As soon as he thinks he has gotten over them, his emotions flow back. This just makes him want to cry, despite being unable to.

Razark is glad that his son seems to feel a bit better. After all, Reiner went on walks more often and started hanging out with people again. He looked like he was returning to his old self. What Razark does not realize is that this sudden boost of optimism is his son saying his last goodbyes to his home.

No one realized.

To say that everyone in Lukedonia totally agrees with Raskreia would be false. Of course, they have to look like they agree with her, at least on the surface. She is their Lord, and they have to live as she intends them to. This is what Reiner doesn’t like. His vision of an ideal Lukedonia is one where no one is afraid to speak their mind, where everyone could have input on how to live. The title of Lord is only there for symbolic and spiritual reasons. Reiner wanted freedom for everyone. Freedom to live as they wish, freedom to enter and leave Lukedonia as they please, freedom to not be held back by the decisions of a single person… Reiner can only dream about it. Reiner knew how his people felt. He isn’t the only one with depression and anxiety. While many are indeed satisfied with life here, some thought otherwise. Reiner spent time with them, got their trust, and they talked to him. Reiner asked them why they didn’t pursue the things that they wanted to, and they always answered “Because it’s just how it is.” Who gets to say anyway?

So Reiner went around and asked more questions. Soon, he was certain that many of them felt exactly the same way. If he’s going to give it a shot, he might as well do his best and gather all the resources he can find. Reiner needed supporters to back him up. Even if his chance of changing Raskreia’s mind is near 0%, it could help. Who knows. Nobody knows for sure. But it was an option. Reiner worked hard to gather people who were seemingly willing to support his cause. They all agreed with his ideals and dreams. However, Reiner does not tell them that he plans to enter the throne room and give a speech in front of the Lord and her audience, at least not until a few hours prior. Everyone who initially agreed with him suddenly panicked. This was far too aggressive and rebellious. Unlike Reiner, they had more important things to lose. They did not expect Reiner to be so upfront about his attempt to change Raskreia’s mind. Then… his supporters left. They apologized, told him this was impossible, and disappeared in a hurry. To be labeled as a traitor was the last thing they wanted. All of a sudden, Reiner was alone again. But it was too late go back on his plans. Reiner is determined, and he is going to get this done regardless of whether he had supporters or not.

So it will be done. Reiner takes a deep breath, and straightens his back. He walks towards the throne room steadily. He is afraid, yes, but he is dedicated to his cause. Nothing will stop him now. He pushes open the door and barges into the throne room despite the guards begging him not to, and interrupts Raskreia and her nobles. The throne room went silent. Then, Reiner gives his speech. After his closing sentence trailed off, no one reacted. Then, Raskreia’s voice breaks the silence, just as everyone dreaded her reaction. Curiously, she does not arrest Reiner on the spot, nor does she order him to apologize to her this instant. She orders him to go back to his residence immediately, and to not leave until she comes to him. They will have a very long discussion there. For now, no more words shall be spoken in the throne room.

And this is when Reiner knew he failed. The Lord kept calm for the sake of her audience. He knows that look on her face. Those same eyes. Reiner could feel the world collapse on him. So his one shot failed, he thinks. But it’s alright. He saw this coming. He shouldn’t have expected anything anyway.

Reiner tells Lord he’d obey her wishes for him to wait for her to come to him. Raskreia’s guards come to escort him out of the throne him and they are about to deliver him to his residence. Except Reiner asks the Lord for one last favor. He wishes to meet his grandmother before he goes back to his residence. Oddly, Raskreia does not refuse this request, and grants him permission. Reiner would then go to say his goodbyes to Mona while the guards waited outside. That is where she gives him her magic ring, and then they part for good.

Reiner is escorted to his room. But he’s not done. He would proceed to disobey Raskreia one last time. As soon as he got a cue from her alliance, he acted right away. Grandma Mona is more than smart enough to sneak Reiner out of Lukedonia without Raskreia knowing, and she has her own group of followers. Even if Mona doesn’t tell Reiner exactly what will happen, she gives him a few clues. This is his chance to leave. After bypassing Raskreia’s guards, Reiner runs through the forest, and through the mountains. Mona had cleared the path for him. No guards in sight. Then he reaches the border at the sea, where he confirms that a small portion of Lukedonia’s barrier had been deactivated in a timely manner, and it will close up very soon. Reiner runs towards the opening at full speed and… it’s been done. He’s done. He’s no longer in Lukedonia. He ran, and he ran, and he ran. He does not look back. He can’t look back.

And into the horizon he vanished.

It didn’t take long for Raskreia to realize that her son had run away. She immediately dispatches a search party to go after him. Then Raskreia summons everyone in the most urgent manner, and announces that Reiner is now a traitor to Lukedonia, and that he is being hunted after. If anyone spots him, they need to deliver him to her immediately. They cannot hide him or assist him in evading her, unless they want to be labeled as a traitor as well. She then issues the most severe punishment to her son, for abandoning his identity as future Lord, and for betraying her. He had multiple treason accusations on him. There was no expression on Raskreia’s face as she uttered everyone’s most dreaded words: death penalty.

For this first time ever, Razark broke down into a sob. No one had ever seen him cry before, until this moment. He couldn’t control himself anymore. After Raskreia dispersed the crowd, he went to her crying and begging for her to rescind her prosecution of their son. There just has to be another way. She can’t kill their boy. Raskreia said nothing. She did not even look at her husband in the eye as his sobs echoed through the room. Her decision was final. There is no going back. According to tradition, this is the punishment for Reiner’s crime. Her opinion did not matter. From this moment, he was no longer her son. He was a runaway prince. A fugitive. A criminal.

Raskreia and Razark did not speak to each other for weeks to come.

Truth is, Raskreia sentencing Reiner after he runs away from Lukedonia doesn’t hurt her any less than it hurt Razark. She is just as devastated as he is. Reiner left her with no choice but to carry out Lukedonia’s laws as they had been written since the beginning of time. As a mother, she did not wish to sentence him. As the Lord, she had no choice. She could not show her turmoil to anyone, not even her own husband. She must keep her composure and remain calm despite total chaos. If she showed any signs of hesitation, she would fail as Lord.

On the one hand, Raskreia’s end goal is to catch Reiner so he meets the fate he deserves. On the other hand, she hopes that Reiner will run far, far away; so far away she will never catch him for all eternity. She needed to execute the traitor and former Prince Reiner, but she wanted Reiner to live. The thought of executing her own son tormented her more than anyone else; her little boy whom she had neglected all these years. The best she can do is to pray that her search party never finds Reiner, despite being the one who is sending them after him. May the two of them never meet again.

“Regrets are an extravagant emotion to me.” As the noblesse once said.

To this day, Raskreia visits her father’s grave every so often and asks for his forgiveness on what she had done, and wishes that Reiner eventually finds his peace.

And that’s the end! Woohoo! There’s a lot more to come, and I’ll leave that to future posts. This includes Raegyn’s deal with Reiner, Garyth’s crush on Reiner, and much more. My prince boy is just so angsty lol.

A small spoiler for now: Reiner currently lives with his distant cousin Oswald Kravei. So fun!

Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for the next long character post!

See you again!

#noblesse #manhwa #myart #oc #original character #millennium au #aretis verja di reiner #never getting enough of that angst lol

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draconicdeityarts · 3 months ago

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Hey there! I love you’re semi realistic, semi cartoonish art style bro! I hope you don’t mind me asking but what software/mediums do you use? I am trying to work on my lighting and shadows and textures but I have no clue how artists like you achieve such detail

First off- thank you so much! I truly appreciate it. And second- oh my goodness I am so sorry for how long this ask has sat in my inbox! I hope some of this can still help you :’D

As far as software goes, I’m almost exclusively working in procreate as of late. There’s plenty of great programs- if you need something free and desktop based, I highly recommend Krita. I have a few brushes from different packs that I often default to. You can see them all and links to said packs through this answer I gave to someone asking about my brushes earlier:

As far as detail in my work goes, that’s just through a loooot of practice and doodles and drawings. I’ve been drawing since I could pick up a pencil, so I’ve had a lot of time to figure out the way I like to do things- but even then I have so much to learn!

I do, however, work in many traditional forms of media as well! I haven’t done so as much lately since digital doesn’t require cleanup, but I honestly believe that working in traditional for my entire life up until 5 or so years ago has a hand in how I approach things digitally as well. I’ve done pen and marker illustration, pencil and colored pencil, acrylic painting, as well as 3D work. I’ve worked in a lot of media and I want to get around to trying as much as I can when I have the energy to! If you have questions specifically about what traditional media I use or work with let me know!

When it comes to improving on rendering, doing small studies of images you really like the lighting in helps a lot for me. Learning how to break light in a photo down to simple, blocky shapes helps to figure out getting an initial layer down to refine later when doing full pieces! When rendering a character, especially if drawing something that isn’t in a scene, I always recommend marking out the direction the light is coming from as well as color of the light before even starting, so that you can determine where highlights and shadows would be placed in an initial blockout. Keep in mind there’s different kinds of light in a piece- I would recommend looking into tutorials about direct light, indirect light, reflected light, etc to get a better feel for how it works- while I do my best, I don’t think I am quite skilled enough to explain those nuances.

When approaching most textures, especially unfamiliar ones, references are my best friend always. It might be a good idea to just do test sheets/practice making the textures that would be useful to you on occasion! And in the end, textures also tie into lighting as well, since a lot of what makes textures super distinct is how light hits them, especially when it comes to things like metal. It may be a bit of a hot take, but in a lot of cases I tend to avoid a lot of digital texture/object brushes, especially those meant to simulate natural textures like leaves, and I do those textures manually instead. I just personally like having more control over those shapes and feel it looks better when each texture is made intentionally by hand! Sometimes I do use texture brushes especially for backgrounds, abstract work or subtle layers, especially if I’m working on something very fast, but it’s not my first choice. However I do know there’s plenty of artists who use texture brushes in ways that look great, so that’s just personal preference. :)

I do apologize it took me so long to respond! But if you have any specific questions, my dms are open and I want to start replying to y’all more!

#ask #not art

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katindeed · 7 months ago

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writing and transness my two favorite worldly desires.

I don’t know why I always gravitate back to writing about being trans. On one hand it is quite the unique and different experience and I would add it’s fair to say it’s pretty all encompassing in my life whether I like it or not but it’s not like I don’t have anything else in my life to write about. I could write about my weird need to be independent or how differently I act by myself versus with even my closest companions. I do try to write about those things but then I get distracted and before I know it a week has passed but something weird happens when I write about being part of this strange little group. I’m able to let the words just flow out and almost nothing could distract me from finishing. If I had to guess why this happens I would presume it’s because of how inescapable it has felt in this point of life. I’ve barely just completely grasped my transness about a year ago (though I've been questioning since 10) and I’ve only really toyed with my name which didn’t take long considering I’ve always been weirdly drawn to the name Katherine. Recently for the first time I've had good enough friends I can tell and they’ve been wildly helpful yet still I feel as if I haven’t had enough initiative in a year of fully accepting myself. For make-up I’ve tried lip-stick once when my family were somewhere for a few days and I’ve been doing my nails more frequently but that's about it. I shave my face almost everyday to keep it at bay, but I don’t really have the tools for shaving anywhere else. And for clothes I have done zilch. It’s not like I haven’t done these things out of lack of effort, it's just hard to do them when in a packed house, when in constant fear, and having a lack of expendable income in a slew of more important expenses. With all this writing is my way to express these feelings I can’t in daily life. I’ve never been adequate at drawing and while I have been doodling more, I don’t think I care to really put a ton of work into it. So with the physical medium out of the way that leaves words. I’ve always been very creative with a lot of thoughts yet I’ve never had a great way to express it. I always thought I hated writing. Always forced to write a long drawl of something I truly feel passionless for. The odd free writes were always fun but the piles of essays and grammar mistakes were always there to make sure I always hated writing. Thank the stars, that recently for the first time I had a teacher who made me realize the joy that can come from writing when you care. Sadly that was last year's teacher but the essays don’t feel as grueling to get through and when we’re doing a paragraph on occasion they feel fun. Now with both these discoveries of late, both from last year interesting enough, I have been going through a bit of a change in how i am. For the first time in my life there is a very clear goal to why I should keep going to get out of this house. 1) so I can be who I want to be 2) so I can write. I've promised myself at the very least I’ll try to get myself there. No matter the obstacle no matter the strife I have to try because in the end memento mori.

#transgender #transfem #writing practice #writing #lgbtq #trans writers #I can write anything here and it won't matter #etc

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salty-seaz · 7 months ago

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Internet Tales and little rants - Mini Story #1 [May contain topics of politics]

[TRAGIC BLUE]

Damien: the one wearing the red cap

Hades: The one with the beads in his locks

_____________ _____________ __________

Damien: “okay so we got the Chris chan documentary, the sharpie pen incident, pretty interesting video essays that I haven’t watched yet… but if you know one yourself then feel free to show me!”

[Hades snickers a little, he hadn’t been this drunk before. Especially with Damien… but he felt weirdly comfortable with him? Typically Damien starts chanting weird shit and acting like Tarzan when he’s drunk but this time he’s chill. But that didn’t matter, what mattered now is that they are both having them together. Even if they probably won’t remember it the next day]

Hades: “Eheh, Ain’t it really funny how there is so much videos of people doing dumb shit?”

Damien: “Yeah, that’s the joy of it. Watching people witness the consequences of their own actions, like don’t act victim if you kept doing it”

Hades: “nah, but imagine their digital footprint?”

[Damien began laughing a little, he knew Hades had a point. But he had another comment to add]

Damien: “Yep, Chris chan for example. For the amount of stuff they done… But yet again, I don’t think it really matters as much people make it out to be.”

Hades: “how come?”

Damien: “because there is actors, celebrities and just people who would say the most racist thing in the book. But yet they’d still have their job. And not only that, they still get their arses wiped for them.”

[Hades nodded, he then suddenly snapped back into remembering that does happen unfortunately]

Hades: “You have a point, this may be off context but Johnny depp for example… During the court case a good majority of it was him being childish as fuck. Like eating candy and doodling in a case about domestic violence?? My guy, if I did that in a court case I would’ve been fucked. But yet people saw it comedic! And what really boiled my blood was when people kept making it about Jack sparrow as if it were a meet and greet.”

Damien: “You absolutely nailed that. When I saw clips of the trial I thought the exact same, though I never really cared. But I don’t think both Heard and Depp are good, like Heard deserves better but she’s a fucking Zionist. So I don’t care about either of them.”

Hades: “Yeah, that’s a fair point. Anyways enough about the whole trial that happened 2 years ago, If we should worry about digital footprint. Bigger names should too.”

Damien: “Exactly.”

[Damien was now just searching for a good tale to read or listen to with Hades…]

Hades: “Damien, I have a video essay I think we’d both like.”

Hey to whoever read this! Thank you for reading. And if you want you can comment what you think and what I should improve! It may not be pirate related in this one or in a lot of the comics but this is only because it’s mainly just comics of the 4 main characters interacting! And you may have noticed but I put a song from Spotify there so you can listen to it while reading so it sets the vibe more!

What is this series?: This is Tragic Blue! A Series I want to keep working on until I can turn it into a big Series one day! And hopefully it going on Adult Swim! But for now I am making little mini-stories and comic type things for now. :-)

The main characters for those who are wondering!:

Damien

Hades

Mei Xiao

Miranda

See you soon!!

#short story #mini comic #pirates #upcoming series #web series #pilot #Spotify

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dark-mega · 2 months ago

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Personally? No, But I can’t deny there’s problems I myself have seen

Most users are friendly and like to interact a lot, are friendly with each other, and all my time (which was mostly spent on the OC, Meme, doodles and General channels) were great and friendly, (I miss the server and wish they could update it before my character gets eliminated this round like I expected)

BUT, I can’t deny there’s some problems, I only have one example and isn’t anything really remarkable (actually kinda tame and non-worthy of mention) but still a bit worthy of mention

I’ll won’t say names but there’s a user (a minor) who likes talking about a sensible topic, the user was trusting enough to show it to me. But that isn’t for the tourneys blame since this user obviously already had the liking to this things previously, and I quickly told the user to don’t do this on this server and reconsider its liking of that topic (it wasn’t anything worse than I saw as a kid but a kid shouldn’t be that trusting and open about something like that on a server full of strangers)

The user was respectful and friendly, (I also don’t exactly remember who they were since I haven’t seen them ever since the day I meet them on the server and I’m very bad with names so even if meet them again I wouldn’t remember it was them)

But compared to the other events I’ve been in and know of (bullying, insults, raids, etc) (by the way, this events weren’t Kirby related, the Kirby community might not be perfect but is above average which is saying a lot for how low the bar is for fandoms) this is very tame and understandable since it was a blink it you’ll miss it moment for me, but it still happen and I want to mention it to be honest

The tournament and its community does have problems, but every event does and they are taking it surprisingly well for all things considered

I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or made you leave the idea of joining the tournament since this tournament brought me great moments of happiness and friendly interactions on the server, I personally would to give it a try, and if it isn’t for you feel free to take any choice you want

After all, this is just a event by fans, for fans, to fans

Basically: is not perfect but I recommend you to join the tournament since I (personally) had a great time in it and haven’t meet a single toxic person, just some weird people

heyy, been seeing a couple of posts criticizing the oc tournament, so to those in it, is it really needed for a full on boycott?

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askdeserteagle · 2 years ago

Photo

On the uneventful day of November 12, 2012, as a 15-year-old sophomore in high school, during my math period, I doodled a pony in the margins of my notes. That afternoon, I went home, drew up a digital reference, and made a blog for her. I thought it’d be a fun thing to do in my free time.

I had no idea how important she’d become to me.

(The rest of my rambling reminiscence on the past decade is below the cut.)

Thank you all so much for 10 years of Ask Desert Eagle. I wouldn’t have lasted this long without you. Hope you will stick around!

The last decade has been... a lot. I mean, when you’re going from 15 years old to 25, a lot happens anyway--but I had a bit more going on than just growing pains. It’s why my update schedule suffered so much.

It is a very weird feeling to think about how someone could have grown up with my blog in the same way I did. 15 to 25 sounds like a lifetime, and it certainly felt that way. During my time in the ‘Tumblrpon’ community, I forged friendships that last to this day, and many more that I’ve since drifted away from or lost contact with, but remember fondly. I experienced the death of a friend for the first time; rest in peace, Rusty Nail. I graduated high school. I graduated college. I moved out. And now I’m here.

The glory days of Tumblrpon are over, that much is evident, but I’m glad I was here during them. I’m likely never going to get more eyes on this comic than I did back then. I have no idea how many of you 5,300 people are still around! I would understand if you weren’t; a maximum of two years between pages is a very long time. I harbor a lot of guilt over maintaining possibly the worst webcomic update schedule I’ve ever seen. What an achievement!

Surprisingly, though, I’m not blaming myself as hard as I used to. I used to think it was my fault; that I was lazy, or that I just wasn’t diligent enough to work on such a long-lasting project. But then I started getting treated for ADHD. Turns out, I was tired. I was tired for so, so long. There was a layer of fog on my brain I didn’t even know was there, less hours in the day than anyone else because of my energy levels. I’ve been forcing myself out of bed at noon for my entire adult life and now I don’t even need an alarm to be up at 8 am. That’s crazy!! It’s like magic!! If all this sounds relatable to you, talk to a psychiatrist! It could change your life.

The problem isn’t 100% fixed, of course; my chronic illnesses do still affect my life, but this is the closest I’ve felt to being a normal, functioning human being in more than a decade, and I very much hope the effect lasts.

Because--unsurprisingly--I still feel deeply for this story and I want to see it through. I thought I’d lose interest eventually, but I haven’t. My love for Deagle has endured years of burnout, self-esteem issues, and guilt about my update speed, and come out unscathed. So I figured at this point it’s safe to say I’m probably not going to change? Like, it’s been a decade. So many people have moved on... but I’m still here. What’s a few--perhaps several--more years to complete this comic? I’m game if you are.

I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. See you next page. :)

#ask desert eagle #mlp oc #mlp comic #mlp ask blog #ten years. wow.#i was attempting to complete this the day of the 12th but you know how it goes #better late than never!#yes the hieroglyphs mean something. yes i am insane

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luveline · 3 years ago

Text

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina, to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

#listened to boyfriend by big time rush while writing hahaha #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #fred #fred weasly x reader #sad reader #reader insert #artist reader #fred weasley fluff #sorry for the big blocks of text tumblr has a 250 paragraph limit #why woukd they do that

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shyyandere44 · 2 years ago

Text

I’m feeling soft so you’re forced to put up with it.

So Yandere.. he’s not having the best time right?

In meetings he just doodles in his diary which was normal but his doodles.. were all broken hearts, even randomly tearing out pages and lighting them on fire in the middle of Dark’s monologue which he didn’t take kindly to-

If it isn’t for food he won’t leave his room either, and Google went as far as installing a hidden motion detector.. it wouldn’t go off for long periods of time, prompting the discussion of.. vital monitors being placed on him.

Eric.. poor Eric just moved in, and on the first day had to witness.. the breaking point.

It was just supposed to be a simple conversation between Yan and Dark- trying to address the situation in the kitchen as Eric walked in for cereal.

It didn’t turn out so simple.

Eric didn’t even understand what happened because of how fast it was- all he knew was that Yan threw dark at a wall hard enough to break through it before jumping on top of him and was trying to stab him with a steak knife.

Eric had to call the only name he knew- The second in command, Wilford. Screaming out of fear for him to hurry, to which he did- along with almost everyone in the house.

Yan thrashed.. unnaturally, managing to somehow even escape the robotic grip of Google- not even hesitating when Wilford got out his gun- dark had to have host help him up while Wilford and Yancy held onto the rabid redhead as Edward- or as he’s commonly known as Dr. Iplier- had to stab a sedative into him strong enough for to put even dark down, everyone yelling for Yan to stop- the struggle continues until finally his body couldn’t resist the drugs… his hand going limp and dropping the knife.

An unnatural silence falls the room.

Eric’s first introduction to Yandere.

Dark was lucky he could heal easily when left alone… and now they have to figure out what to do with Yandere.

He’s going feral without something to obsess over.. everyone knows it, but they can’t bring his crush back to life. To give him another one is.. dangerous.

A voté is casted

Yandere is on house arrest, being locked into his room and restrained with a mouthpiece- or muzzle as he calls it- keeping him from biting.

Keeping him like a caged animal.

At least… until they can figure out a solution.

Eric was placed on the afternoon shift, thinking it would be the safest as his time slot is between dark and host.

It would be an awkward first visit.

“Hi! I know I-I haven’t.. exactly gotten the right opportunity to introduce myself, my name’s Eric! I.. like your hair!”

He’d be met with silence, just like everyone else. Eric would cower to his glaring red eyes, not entirely convinced the restraints could hold the power he witnessed his first day.

Two days had passed.

Eric was watching as the man he would watch become less outwardly agressive, seeming to just stare at the wall and stay still, scaring Eric to an extent causing him to watch for the other’s breathing. He had mentioned the strange behavior to Dark but his concerns were dismissed, stating that Yan was probably just scheming for a way out. Eric knew he may be naïve but.. he felt sorry for Yan.

The others still had concerns over letting Yan roam free again, while Edward would counter the longer they held him like this the worse his mental health would deteriorate.

A vote would be casted.

And starting at the end of the month, his mouth piece would be removed, yet his restraints would remain, only to be removed for Edward’s checkups with Wilford’s direct supervision.

Eric didn’t like that phrasing, because he knew this ‘supervision’ was more like a bodyguard for Edward, having a gun trained on Yandere to ‘neutralize’ if something went wrong.

But it went into effect just as stated, with Eric seeing the Yandere’s face for the first time since the incident- and he couldn’t decide if this was a good or bad thing.

His expression always seemed unreadable, having no human emotion at all times- the only time he seemed to open his mouth was to yawn- which didn’t help Eric’s case as his paranoia made him imagine all the horrific things his sharp teeth could do to Eric given the chance.

Despite his worries, Eric was determined to get him to speak. All he had ever heard from the others was that it was higher pitched- that his laugh always sounded manic and too enthusiastic. Yet all Eric ever saw was a cold, detached husk restrained and probably uncomfortable.

“I know.. you’re probably not going to like this but I went into your room- I gotta say I loved your decor! And I saw you had cool manga on your shelves, you really do have great taste.”

He’d always say these things with a smile, wanting to give this Yandere a much needed friend as the others seemed to outcast him..

Yet Yandere would never respond, not even bothering to meet his gaze. Uninterested in what he was saying as his own thoughts seem to held him hostage.

Eric would keep talking to him with no response, until eventually he changed strategies.. saying nothing at all, treating Yandere the same way he’d treat a cat.

He’d often bring in a book or perhaps his gameboy to keep him entertained, not even acknowledging he was sharing the same space as the Yandere, going out of his way to seem as relaxed as possible.

It was time consuming, sure, but one day when he looked up he saw Yandere actually looking at him with curiosity, leaning to see him closer only to look away when Eric caught him.

It may not have been much, but it was a win for him, and he’d leave his session excited.

Then one day, Eric would walk into the room to see Yandere.. seeming irritated. Moving his head in a weird whip over and over leaving Eric confused until he saw what was bothering him- his hair stuck defiantly over his face, about to get into his eyes.

“Is that.. bothering you?”

Eric would ask hesitantly, feeling bad that Yan couldn’t fix it due to his restraints- and surprisingly, after looking at Eric for a while, would slowly nod.

“Do you.. want me to fix it for you?”

He’d ask again, still in awe he got a response and actual acknowledgement.

Yandere seemed to be confused by the question, looking towards the door and all around the room- probably realizing it truly was only Eric in the room, leaving Eric in an awkward silence before nodding.

“Just d-don’t… don’t give them any reason to not let me visit you.. ok?”

Eric would request, and to his surprise he got another nod.

His gentle hand would touch Yan for the first time and he flinched, but… slowly went back to Eric’s hand.

Eric wouldn’t wait for him to change his mind, pushing his soft red hair behind his ear,

“There.. a-all better.”

This was the closest he’s ever been to the Yandere, and even with every violent incident he’s seen so far… he can’t bring himself to cower in fear. Even with those red eyes staring deep into his soul like some feral demon. And to his surprise.. The Yandere was the first to look away

In their two months together that had never happened.

Finally he would give him the distance he was probably wanting.

Eric admittedly scared to push it too far.

For the rest of his time he’d be reading the book he started to read a couple of weeks ago, in the beginning he just read it in the awkward silence between his watch but then.. he noticed the Yandere’s eyes looking at the mirror next to him, eyes squinting- he was trying to read what he was reading.

Once Eric figured that out he was happy to read it out loud for him, which seemed to keep him entertained as his eyes almost seemed inquisitive

Host would always be the next shift after, which he’d learn to like. Originally the narrator hated having to waste time with what he described as a foaming at the mouth beast but eventually his tone would change, instead stating the Yandere would seem.. more distant than agressive.

Dark was anything but happy to hear that.. being concerned for Eric’s safety. He’d start cutting their time shorter and shorter

Eric would begin to notice Yandere would start to almost look sad as Eric would leave- it was nice to a certain extent but also made him feel terrible.. starting to promise he’d be back and not to worry.

Yancy was always the one to bring him snacks and drinks, but once dark started enacting his policy about Eric’s schedule.. Yan began to refuse to take it. On the first day it didn’t concern him, thinking maybe he just didn’t feel good and he’d leave it for later- but after day three he became concerned.

Eric would notice Yandere would seem more tired and weak throughout their visits, and when Yancy finally told him of Yan’s diet he truly became concerned.

Dark tried to encourage Eric not to worry about it, and that Yandere has done this in the past with him usually going back to normal within a few days- but deep down Eric wasn’t convinced.

Eric would walk in again for his visit, and Yandere actually perked up when he came in, having a good mood for the first time in a while- if Eric didn’t know what he knew he would’ve been over the moon with his progress but.. he knew he had to confront this negative behavior before it got worse.

“Yan.. you know I’m here for you.. right?”

the atmosphere in the room suddenly wasn’t as pleasant- and Eric watched as Yandere seemed to piece together Eric wasn’t in a playful mood as he had hoped.

“And while.. the others may have mixed feelings about you, I want what’s best for you. I want you out of here one day.”

Eric then watched as Yandere seemed to be really confused, even tilting his head. This was when he finally decided to spit it out.

“You haven’t been eating anything Yancy brings you for the past few days. Why.”

It was quiet in that room, as it seemed Yan didn’t even breathe- looking at the ground for a while before looking at Eric with a sorrowful look In his eyes. It was a message, Eric knew that, but one he couldn’t convey.

“They’re.. they’re gonna keep you here longer if you keep doing this Yan. I’m just trying to help you, I really am- but I don’t know how. Please just- tell me what changed, tell me what’s wrong.”

And to his unfortunate reality.. Yandere would say nothing, looking down, leaving Eric frustrated as he decided to just leave- walking out the door and closing it behind him, telling dark he had something to do and that dark can fill in.

Laying in bed that night Eric didn’t feel good about what he did. It was out of frustration- anger at the fact that even after everything he did for Yan it wasn’t enough for him to gain trust. He thought.. maybe he’d managed to create a unique relationship with him.

It just wasn’t the case.

……or so he thought.

He’d wake up, going downstairs to the now repaired kitchen to overhear Yancy and Host’s conversation.

“Guess Dark was right about him breaking after a couple of days, It was like magic- this morning he ate with no problem.”

“The host believes that dark spoke to the other regarding his behavior, most likely threatening him with punishment due to Dark’s character traits. But the host won’t think too much into it, he’s just ready for the Yandere to be treated normally again so he can go back to having a social life.”

It.. was weird to Eric. He’d have his bowl yet he suddenly didn’t feel hungry as his stomach flipped.

Was he.. responsible for this?

He’d.. be anxious as the time for him to see Yandere got closer, not knowing what to think or believe. But he’d go in, opening the door to his temporary.. well- cage, only managing to convince dark to let him in at the expense of cleaning up the trash.

Yandere’s eyes would meet his, and for a moment Eric held still- having that initial fear he’s had since the beginning appear, but he didn’t break his eye contact, standing his ground, all until he made it to his little comfy chair.

“..I overheard Yancy this morning. Apparently you.. had no problem.”

Yandere has never held such an intense stare at Eric like this before, it made Eric undeniably uncomfortable.

“Did you.. actually listen to me yesterday?”

He’d ask with uncertainty, just wanting to get some kind of answer-

Unfortunately he’d get one.

Not exactly the one he anticipated but..

Eric got one.

Eric couldn’t help but describe it to be like a dog trained to ‘smile’ with their razor sharp teeth, one that humans recognize as friendly yet deep down its predatory.

A smile so wide it was unnatural.

Eric won’t lie, it took everything inside him not to call him out for how freaking scary it looked and beg for him to stop it. He’d swallow down the lump in his throat, starting to remind himself that he was restrained, unable to hurt him.

“…I’ll take that as a yes.”

Perhaps Yan got the reaction he wanted, because his face would shortly go back to the unreadable expression he usually wore- one that Eric has learned not to fear. Eventually he’d shake his fear off, feeling guilty about yesterday as he read as much as he could to him.

It’s almost the end of the second month, It seemed Eric actually was getting comfortable with the other’s company, being more lenient with Dark’s rules as he’d sneak in snacks and movies for them to watch together- and even if Yan didn’t speak, Eric was beginning to believe that Yandere was enjoying his time with him.

Finally, after the second month the vote was casted to decide if Yandere should be allowed to be free from his restraints, with Eric and Dr Iplier would be very vocal in their support of- but others like dark and Wilford weren’t convinced. Dark saying his lack of proper communication allowed for him to hide proper evaluations, and that he was simply buying his time in order to strike again- and Wilford would pipe up stating the rabid boy would glare at him every chance he could.

A voté was casted..

And it seems Yandere is still stuck in his restraints, but his observation sessions would be cut back to give him some semblance of false freedom.

Eric.. would meet with him the next day, seeing him reverting back to staring at the wall for what seemed like hours while barely breathing. There was no way that dark didn’t break the news to him.

“Hey Yan.. I.. got you a little treat for today”

Eric’s upbeat voice couldn’t lift the despair in the room. As optimistic as Eric was, he understood why Yan was upset.

“I um.. picked it out because it had red frosting.. and.. a cherry on top- it.. made me think of you.”

It got Yandere’s attention at least, his clouded eyes lazily focusing on the cupcake..

Eric wasn’t prepared to see a tear leak from his eye, and all he worried about was that he had did something wrong- he knew Yandere couldn’t wipe his tears.

Eric was simply going to wipe them away for Yandere, grabbing a tissue as he’d go to wipe his face

“I’m sorry Yan it’s gonna be o-“

It happened faster than he could comprehend it, only hearing leather straps snap with a metal buckle crashing to the floor, For a moment Eric’s life flashed before his eyes, waiting for the cold embrace of death only to feel someone’s warmth.. Eric would open his eyes to see the back of Yandere’s head.. he.. was hugging him, and from the sounds of it sniffling as he struggled to keep himself together.

“Thank you for not giving up on me”

And after some time.. Eric would hug back~

#markiplier fandom #markiplier egos #fanfiction #yanderiplier #darkiplier #wilford warfstache #eric derickson #fluff #dr iplier #markiplier yancy #markiplier ego angst #Yandere mark gets a little too quirked up #nah cuz what the dog doing?

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saijspellhart · 2 years ago

Note

I think people are afraid to approach you because for the time I've known you, I've seen that you tend to snap at random people or misjudge their intentions as antagonistic. You also focus so much energy on what you don't have (notes, comments, etc) or on a single annoying person here and there, than express appreciation for the fans you do have.

Acknowledgement where acknowledgment is due, I am prickly when I perceive someone to be harassing me.

Why? Because I do not receive the occasional “annoying person here and there,” I receive lots of harassing, guilt trippy, rude, or entitled messages every single day. The amount of “please update,” “why haven’t you updated?” “Have you abandoned your fic?” “When are you going to update?” is just overwhelming and anxiety inducing. And I delete most of them. I only respond to a few, and it’s usually to remind people to not do that sort of thing. You can only receive so much anon hate and rude messages before it erodes your patience away. People would not even relent when my mother died and I said I’d be on hiatus. They STILL sent me mean/guilt-trip messages on anon. You only see a small percentage of the hate mail I get, and I’m honestly not obligated to share my entire inbox with you. Suffice to say I’ve had to have friends and family vet and delete my emails and notifications before because I got so much that I went spiraling into depression.

If someone genuinely messages me with kind words, patience, and the intent to have a conversation then I am delighted to engage them. I am so extremely chatty. But when someone approaches me to send me guilt-trippy, pressuring, or harassing messages, then I am not delighted to engage them. And 90% of the time I delete them. Because I don’t like having an inbox filled with those comments on any of my socials.

As far as wanting more notes, comments, etc. When? When in the last two, three years have I made posts bemoaning that my work isn’t receiving enough attention? When have I asked for notes?

Are my fans not appreciated enough? I respond to very many of my asks with doodles and drawings. I’ve spent my birthdays before drawing cute arts for my fans just so I could respond to their birthday wishes with cute doodles. I’ve done art and writing giveaways, I’ve accepted fanfics prompts for pairings. I’ve done art doodles and kiss drawing prompts. I leave dedications in my fanfics to certain fans. I’ve given away free shiny Pokémon for the Pokémon games. And when fans ask me to read their fics, more often than not I go check out their work and leave feedback.

TO FANS: if you are feeling unappreciated. What are ways I can make you feel more appreciated? I’d be delighted to know ways I can improve in showing my love and appreciation.

#ask answers #SaijSpellhart answers #anon hate

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demcnsinmymind · 2 years ago

Text

badassxbirdy:

“I’m the boss?“ She laughed while fidgeting about to get comfortable. “Now that’s gonna go to my head. Like, total delusions of grandeur.” It didn’t take long for Ty to settle down, finding it surprisingly easy to get absorbed in what she doing. She could feel him watching her but didn’t mind it much, her anxiety steadily dropping the more she read. She soon found herself slipping into that good ol’ hunter mode, that state of mind that let thoughts and worries outside of her current task fade into the background. If only for a little while. When she was working it was easy to forget about everything else, a welcome break from it all.

It didn’t last as long as she would’ve liked, his sudden movement making her jump enough to snap back to her current reality in an instant. Of course that meant she went right on back to worrying.

“Sure, go ahead.” Ty was left staring at the bathroom door as he sped from the room, wondering what the heck had just happened to make him dart off so suddenly. They’d been quiet for long enough that she could be fairly confident she hadn’t upset him with something she’d said. He’d been quiet too… unless that was the problem. Maybe someone else was talking to him. Maybe the third person in the room wasn’t quite as keen for him to sleep. If it could even be called a person…

Tyler had spent her entire adult life going out of her way to avoid demons, most of the time running like an absolute chicken when confronted with even the possibility of being around one. It went beyond sensible caution or self preservation, she’d spent years being downright neurotic about it. It had felt like life was playing some stupid joke on her when she’d found out she wasn’t human. A cambion with a demon phobia. Ridiculous. But hey, it was hardly her fault that she was fucking traumatised.

This was a day of firsts for both of them. For Tyler it was the first time she’d been anywhere near a demon since prior to her imprisonment. Ontop of that it was only now truly beginning to sink in that this was the first time she’d ever been around one without the safety net provided by her powers.

Fuck.

She was itching to do something, to take some sort of precaution while he was out of the room, to have a weapon handy, anything really. Instead she sat frozen with indecision and rising panic. His earlier words kept replaying in her head, the reassurance that he’d never hurt her or let it hurt her. It was a nice sentiment, and it was kind of sweet that he’d tried to make her feel better. Well, sweet in a completely fucked up ‘my friend is possessed’ kinda way. But even if Lance believed it to be true, Tyler definitely didn’t. If the thing decided she was going to be too much of a problem before she was able to deal with it, she’d be utterly screwed. Dead meat. And then it’d be free to go off and kill anyone else who crossed it.

Frankly she’d rather just be eaten by some monster.

It was a hell of a relief when he finally reentered the room, she was immediately distracted by the stark red scrubbing marks. “You okay?” It was asked hesitantly, as if worried she might startle him. She should say something else. Make some dumb joke, make herself relax… his question gave her something to latch onto, and she seized upon it immediately.

“Not sure this is bedtime story material.” Tyler forced a laugh. Everything was fine. It was fine. “Some of it’s doodles, but it’s um, it’s mostly research for a hauntin’.” The book was semi-organised chaos. A mix of research, sketches, sigils and spells, journaling, and general notes. A lot of it would be typed up on her laptop and properly organised at a later date when she had some downtime. ‘Gather now, catalogue later’ tended to be how she did things, much to the irritation of almost every hunter she’d worked with back in the day.

“This one’s definitely like, a consciousness. Not an echo, or that whole ‘stone tape’ thing, or whatever, it’s too responsive for that. But I haven’t found any concrete evidence of death that’d be a super obvious red flag.” Every single article and record she’d been able to find on the property and those connected to it was stuffed between the pages book, waiting for her to read through them. Tyler could only hope she identified a likely culprit before getting to bottom of her list of names to investigate. “No red flags means I get to read about everyone who ever spent time there before they died ‘til I can narrow down who would need help movin’ on.” She couldn’t help but sigh at the thought. Most of the time she liked taking on hauntings that were a bit complicated and the answers harder to find, but so far these records were boring as shit. It was always worth it in the end but… property records. Urgh.

“Gotta get the who, to figure out the why, y’know? And then if it ain’t someone connected to the building, I gotta look at the people who currently use the place, just in case it’s a spirit attach—” Catching herself before launching into a needlessly longwinded list of possibilities, she gave him a rather sheepish smile. “Am I rambling? I’m rambling. Sorry.”

Tyler wasn’t entirely sure it was right to even tell him about the case. Or any case for that matter. Maybe back when they’d first met, back when Lance had thought she was just a mechanic. When he’d made it so blatantly obvious that he didn’t really believe this stuff existed. Probably not now with the knowledge of what investigating hauntings had cost him.

“Some of the photos are pretty great though, check out this guy.” She cleared her throat as she hastily flipped through the book until she came to a somewhat haphazardly cut out news story taped to one of the pages. An article about a local fishing competition, it was a photocopy of poor quality, but clear enough to see the picture which featured a man with a truly impressive walrus moustache. And an almost as impressive trout. But most importantly: the facial hair. “I ain’t even sure he has a mouth under that thing. It might just all be moustache.”

“Oh yah, I’m okay” Lance told her, as if shot from a gun, still way too used to saying this sentence even if he didn’t mean it. A defense mechanism, a safety measure. Just because back in that place, he’d learned the hard way what could happen if he admitted that he wasn’t okay. He gave her a reassuring smile and was careful enough not to hide away the splotches, because doing so would only prove the opposite.

“Turns out the shower is hot as fuck though. The little red dot on the knob apparently means ‘this is what your skin will look like if you turn it this way, buddy’. Keep that in mind if you want to hop in for a swim later” he explained as he laid back down with a chuckle, then listened to her explanation of what she was doing. No matter how hard he tried, Lance failed to hide his reaction to her talk about a haunting, paling a little, mouth moving about with his lips either pressed together, or his teeth chewing on them as he tried his best to keep his emotions at bay. But he’d asked her about it, and he’d messed up enough of this evening to make it even worse by asking her to stop. So Lance braved through it, even when her talking about a building visibly made him flinch and curl in on himself a little.

Funny that. How a single world could make someone as tall as him feel so fucking tiny. Thankfully, she finished her explanation with a sheepish smile and an apology, which made him smile right back at her and ease up a little.

“Nah. You’re not and it’s fine, honestly. I asked, remember?”

Tyler tried her best to keep the mood up, and though the photo of mustache guy did get a smirk and good chuckle out of Lance, he was beginning to realize that all of this was taking its toll on him anyway. It didn’t make him angry anymore. How he couldn’t relax and appreciate the simplest things. And how just talking to another actual person for a prolonged period of time was so foreign and outright exhausting now. It just made him...tired. So much, that he didn’t even feel like acting and lying anymore. And given everything she’d already done for him today, he figured that she deserved some honesty. Even if he couldn’t look her in the eye as he gave her some. He just turned on his back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, gathering some strength and thought.

“Sorry that I’m not as talkative as the last time you saw me. There are some things that...happened. That make it kinda hard to talk about stuff like this. Or even think about it. So....yeah. I can’t. Say much. Y’know.”

A long, heavy pause. Him, lying on his back, trying his best to keep powering through it all despite the tiredness, that big fucking lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried. Raising his eyebrows a little, Lance let out a soft snort and shrugged at that ceiling, actually laughing, albeit bitterly.

“I know the old me would’ve had a field day bouncing off of you right now. Probably would’ve given you a five minute rant about why he thinks fishing is a waste of time and why he’d never have that much facial hair because it makes people look like fucking douchebags.”

And hadn’t that been the whole point, he figured now. Of trapping him in there. Depriving him of not just food. And water. But also basic dignity, his pride. Dismantling and utterly destroying his carefully maintained facade. Making him do things to survive that he didn’t want to do. Making him look like someone he didn’t want to be. There was a long pause and he almost said it. Not the new me, though. But then he didn’t. “Fuck the old me” Lance said instead, voice shaking a bit. He let out a soft sigh, shook his head, closed his eyes for a moment, and then finally looked back at her.

“But it’s nice to hear that you’re still the old you.Trying to help people. Or...ghosts” Lance went on, chuckling a little after all because it sounded silly, but was still very true. “It’s good stuff. I’m sure if anyone can figure out what they need to hear or find to move on, it’s you.” He looked at her a moment longer to let her see that he really meant this, that it wasn’t just some friendly statement and small talk. “There should be more people like you out there.” Who actually helped people instead of getting them killed.

Giving her a nod and an appreciative, battered smile, Lance then shifted around a bit, to get more comfortable in the bed, ready himself for some sleep. Believing, no - knowing - that he couldn’t really help her with the case anyway. Shouldn’t. Because his previous encounter with the supernatural had gone so fucking well for everyone involved now, hadn’t it? He wasn’t like her. Never would be. Not just because of the fact that he was possessed by a literal fucking demon. Had to be a reason for that after all, right?

“Anyway, don’t let me keep you from the job. And who would’ve guessed it, scorching your own skin in a shower makes even an insomniac like me sleepy as hell. I’ll...try to get some shuteye now, if that’s okay with you” he went on, eyes half closed, properly tucked in already. And fuck. He could get used to sleeping in a real bed again.

#text post #badassxbirdy #roadside bestie : tyler #I'm sobbing so hard over the two of them #why write normal threads when u can write a *~novel~* together haha #long post tw #now wouldn't it be a shame if the boy went to sleep and azzy made an appearance in the next thread :>>>>>>>>>>>>

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hyuckssunchip · 4 years ago

Text

Here’s The Deal

Pairings: Mark x Reader, ft. 00′ line (Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin)

Words: 5.9K

Warnings: Language (there is almost always language in my writings), slight smut, angst

Summary:

Y/N gets caught in a tight situation as she discovers that her relationship was a lie. Mark knows just how much she really means to him, but how can he prove it after what he’s done? How much was real?

“Hi Y/N!”

“Oh hey Mark,” you say as you slide into your seat and rest your forehead on your desk. You let out a deep sigh.

“What’s up?” He asked laying his own head down to face yours.

You let out another exaggerated sigh, “Nothing. I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I was up all night working on my writing assignment for philosophy.”

“Oh… Well maybe you and I can go to that one cafe to get coffee together. Maybe lunch?” Mark offered quietly.

“Huh?”

“You know, after class so you can wake up.” He said, quieter and less sure of himself.

“Oh… Well, I actually don’t like coffee. But thanks for the offer anyways.” You said, lifting your head up slightly, just enough to give him a weak smile.

Mark looked at you, furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lip. He gives you a slight nod before leaning back in his chair. He then turned his head to the right shaking his head at his friends that sat adjacent to him.

THE NEXT DAY

“Just ask her!”

“Shhh! Don’t talk so loud!”

“Grow some balls man!”

“Guys can you just shut up?! This is not helping. Telling me to man up is not going to get her to say yes.”

“Well maybe, stop beating around the bush and straight up ask her!”

“Would you two shut up? You are not the one who has to---”

“Oh hey guys. What are you still doing here? Class ended like half an hour ago?” You say, accidentally interrupting their conversation.

“Uh.. We’re uh… just discussing our project for uh… drama? Yeah. Drama.” Mark’s friend Jaemin answered.

“Drama? Why the hell would we be in drama?” Renjun hissed at Jaemin. After a couple seconds of painful silence Jeno nudged Mark forward.

“Uhh.. yeah. What are you doing here?” He asked stumbling towards you a bit.

“Oh… I just left my notebook here.” You said pointing towards the blue spiral notebook on one of the desks. “I’ll just grab it real quick and let you guys get back to your… discussing.” You said, giggling a little at the thought of them doing drama.

“Mark! Do it now!” Haechan whispered to Mark pushing him into you. As you struggled to keep your balance from the new weight of Mark, he wrapped his arms around yours to stabilize the both of you.

“Oh, sorry.” he said, quickly shoving himself away from you as if you burned him.

“Actually we’re done discussing our project, right Jaemin?” Jeno said, looking sharply at his younger friend, who nodding vigorously at you. Before you knew it they were gone and you were left alone with Mark.

“Hey, maybe… do you want to… watch that new movie that came out? Crazy Rich Asians?” Mark suddenly asked out of the blue.

“Oh! Yeah I heard that was going to be really good. I’d love to go! My roommate really wants to see that, I’ll ask when she’s free.” You reply excitedly.

Mark let out a sigh of exasperation before grabbing your shoulders and forcing you to face him. “Are you totally oblivious or just trying to let me down easy?” He asked staring into your eyes. For some odd reason you couldn’t seem to look away and suddenly your heart skipped a beat.

TWO WEEKS LATER

You and Mark had been dating for a month, ever since he confronted you and made you realize your feelings for him.

For the short amount of time that the two of you had actually been dating, you two were really close. You had gotten physical pretty quickly, although you didn’t mind it too much. Mark was something else, he made you feel things you had never felt before and it had become almost addicting.

However, despite this the two of you haven’t slept together yet, after all it was only a few weeks of dating, way too soon for you. On multiple occasions you had gotten close but were interrupted, you were secretly thankful that the two of you couldn’t go further.

Your relationship wasn’t about the physical, Mark made you happier than you thought was possible. His constant laughing and goofy smile always had you thankful to have him around. He really did brighten your day.

Mark was sweet and thoughtful, always coming up with spontaneous dates for the two of you and kind gestures that made your heart skip.

You’ve never been in love before, but maybe, just maybe you were on the right track this time.

It was Saturday, and for once you had panned a surprise for your boyfriend. A picnic date. You climbed the few flights of stairs that led to his dorm, which he shared with Haechan and Renjun, two of his friends that you were acquainted with. Nothing more than a couple of interactions, but you’ve never run into them at their dorm, save for the time they caught you and Mark in a compromising position.

Just as you were about to knock on his door, you heard voices behind the door. You knew that you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but you couldn’t help but lean in.

With your ear pressed against the door, you could clearly distinct between each of their voices.

“I don’t know. I’m so close it's just frustrating!” Clearly Mark.

“Why don't you just go for it? Why are you dancing around?” Jeno?

“I don't want to make her do anything that she doesn't want to. Especially if she’s not ready.” Your heart swelled at Mark’s response.

“What do you mean? Why do you care?” You frowned at Haechan’s response, why wouldn’t he care?

“Ha! Don't tell me you’re actually starting to like her?” You froze.

Her? Is there someone else? Is he talking about me?

There was a pregnant pause.

“Dude?!”

“... guys… stop.”

“She’s a fucking bet! Just finish it quickly, you’re so close. If you don’t we’re all fucked! You know that!” You felt like throwing up. A bet?

“Mark! Tae Oh will kill us if you don’t finish this! Please!” Finish this? Am I a game?

“I know! You don’t think I know that?! You think I want this?!”

With your ear still pressed firmly against the door, you let out a muffled cry.

“Fuck!”

As he yelled, you flinched and backed yourself away from the door.

You let out a silent sob and rushed back to your dorm room, leaving spilled contents of your picnic along the way. As you pushed your way into your dorm, thankful that both of your roommates happened to be gone, you threw yourself on your bed.

Your emotions were all over the place, you were sobbing, upset that you weren’t enough for him, upset that you were a bet, upset that he had made a fool of you. But like a flip of the switch you became pissed. He played with you, with your feelings as if you were nothing. Nothing he said or did was real, your whole relationship was a lie.

You wiped your eyes dry and wrung your hands, pausing when you felt the promise ring Mark had given you just recently for your one month anniversary. More angry than you had ever been you ripped your ring off your finger and chucked it across the room hitting the door. It bounced off and landed under your desk, but you didn’t care enough to pay attention.

Just as you were cooling off you got a goodnight text from Mark. On any other day you would be swooning at the cute text, but today you were not having it. You ignored his texts and ended up falling asleep before your roommates ever made it back.

The next morning you woke up to your alarm blaring, looking at the clock you realized you hit snooze one too many times and rushed to the door. You made to class with little time to spare and even before the professor made it. You scanned the room for a seat, and found a few. There was one next to Mark, saved for you as usual but you stopped yourself, opting to sit next to Jisung. You smiled awkwardly at him as you sunk into the seat. You felt your phone buzz again and ignored the text as soon as you saw Mark’s name on your screen. You sigh and ignore the text, pulling out your notebook and start doodling.

Mark frowned to himself a couple of rows behind you. He couldn’t focus the entire class and couldn’t help but stare at you confused. Before he knew it the class was over and you were rushing past him, not even sparing a glance. Before he could gather his things you were gone.

To be honest, it was a lot of work avoiding Mark. It’s like he had it on his agenda to track you, normally you would absolutely love it, but as of right now that was the last thing you wanted.

At some point you were out of energy and could no longer continue the chase.

“Can we talk?” Mark asked, nervously wringing his hands together.

You sighed, thinking that there wasn’t really much else you could do. Stopping in your tracks you plopped down on the empty bench you were close to passing. You tried to hold back a scoff, sure that he was worried about losing his bet. It took everything in you not to throw that in his face and stalk off.

You heard Mark let out a relieved sigh, collapsing into the spot next to you, but consciously leaving a respectable gap between the two of you.

For a moment the two of you sat in silence, neither wanted to get to the discussion at hand.

“What happened?” There was a quiver in his voice and you cursed your heart for wavering at the sound. No matter how upset you were, you still liked him and could’t help but feel guilty at suddenly ghosting the desperate boy.

You glanced at his side profile and admired him. He was leaning over his knees, staring intensely at his shoes.

For the first time since you overheard his conversation you thought about his position.

Why did he even do the bet in the first place? Mark was a nice guy, at least that’s what you had always thought. And why was Tae Oh threatening them?

You recalled what you had heard. Jeno had said that Tae Oh would kill them if Mark couldn’t finish the bet. Did that mean he was in trouble?

With one last glance at the forlorn boy next to you, you had decided. It was a stupid idea, and it would only hurt you, but for some reason you couldn’t stand the thought of Mark suffering. To the point where you would put him before you.

“Nothing happened.” You mumbled out, your internal conflict starting to give you a headache.

His eyes searched for yours, “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I’m not.” You gulped, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I swear you just ran the other direction, and it took me so long to get you to talk to me. If I did something wrong we can talk about it, otherwise we can’t fix it.” He pulled your hand into his hesitantly, rubbing softly over the skin, sending warmth through your body. You didn’t miss the frown on his face when he noticed your ring wasn’t on the usual finger.

You pulled your hand out of his, wiping your palms on your jeans and fumbling with your fingers.

“I promise you nothing is wrong, I’m just stressed about school. You know cause finals are coming up.” You hoped he would fall for it, after all he knew how you were during testing periods.

“Right.” His eyes shook, “How about we have a small date night, that’ll make you feel better, right?”

You nodded at nothing in particular, eyes now trained on the bird that was digging for dinner in front of you.

“I’ll pick you up at seven then? We can get take out a watch a movie.” He asked, nodding to himself.

“Uh, I’ll just go to your dorm, I have stuff to do anyways, it’s on the way.” You rejected his offer, not thinking you would be able to pretend for a whole car ride.

“Right.”

You stood up abruptly, not able to take the tension any longer. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

Then as fast as you could you escaped.

You had spent the last few hours thinking about what the bet could possibly be. Tae Oh was one of Mark’s seniors, you often saw them in the same group, but he was notorious for be an ass. There was nothing more to say about that. Tae Oh was an ass and you didn’t doubt for a moment that he was capable of making Mark’s life hell.

Groaning, you ran your hands over your face. Why did you have to care?

You racked your brain for any clues. The other day you had heard Mark saying that he didn’t want to push you. Push you into what?

Tae Oh would’ve only had two things in mind when making the bet, break your heart or sleep with you. You frowned, Tae Oh didn’t know you that well, why would he want to break your heart, and as a horny college student it made more sense for him to want Mark to sleep with you.

Your eyes widened in realization. That’s why they said he was so close. Mark and you had gotten intimate, but never actually did anything. He must have told them that and that’s what they meant by getting close.

You chewed on your bottom lip. Could you do that for him? Honestly, before this whole situation you would’ve been more than willing to sleep with him on your own accord, god knows you were close. But you were starting to feel uncomfortable with the thought after knowing his intentions.

“Y/N?” You jolted up straight, “What are you doing? How long have you been there?”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head in confusion.

“Oh, not long, I was just about to knock.” Your face heated up in embarrassment.

“Oh hey Y/N.” You made eye contact with Renjun who was sitting on the couch with a book, feet in the position of kicking a very focused Haechan.

“Stop it. You’re going to make me die.” Haechan retaliated with a quick shove, “Hey Y/N.”

Though he didn’t look at you, you still smiled at the interaction.

“Let me kick them out, I told them you’d be over around seven.” He laughed quietly at the scene.

“Renjun, you asshole! I died!” The bright flash on the TV screen was proof and Haechan didn’t look like he was going to let it go.

“Guys! Y/N’s here, I told you she was coming.” The other two froze, staring at Mark like they were having a silent conversation before Renjun slammed his book shut.

“Right. Haechan, there’s that new place down the street that has great tacos, let’s go.” He nudged the pouting counterpart aggressively.

“But my game-”

“Haechan.” Renjun raised his eye brows while staring down Haechan, no doubt a sign that it was a chance for Mark to complete the bet.

“Oh. Yeah... I like tacos.” He stood up giving you a short salute. “Bye Y/N.”

He couldn’t help but send a wink in your direction, making you wince in reminder of your situation.

Before you knew it, it was once again just you and Mark.

“So I already ordered, do you want to choose a movie?” Mark made his way to the now unoccupied couch.

“Sure.” You shuffled behind him, mind not really thinking about the movie.

As you fell into the cushion of the couch, Mark slid close to you, eliminating any space that might’ve been between you two.

He pulled you into his arms, gripping you tightly as if he was worried that you would slip away.

“Let’s just stay here for a moment, we can choose a movie when the food gets here.” He mumbled into your neck, eliciting an automatic sigh in response.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you on purpose right?” You tensed at his confession, obviously referring to the bet.

“Hmmm.” There was nothing that you could do but hum in response.

Mark began to pepper soft kisses along your neck, leaving a little trail of love bites. You unconsciously opened your neck, giving him more access.

His kisses got deeper, leaving what you know would be dark spots, proof of possession. Soon he reached your mouth, pulling you in. He nipped at your bottom lip, asking for access, to which you gave him without hesitation.

Your hands moved to tangle in his hair, gripping softly and tugging him closer. He groaned into your mouth in response, and you could feel the tips of his mouth curve into a smile.

His hands which were once rubbing your waist, gripped you tightly, pulling you onto his lap where you were forced to straddle him.

For just a moment he was forced to pull away, looking up at you with smiling eyes, searching for the same in your own.

You couldn’t do anything but crash against his lips, leaning your body into his. There was nothing but the thin layers of your shirts, the rapid beating of his heart easily felt, and you knew that he could feel yours as well.

One hand reached up for your neck, a way for him to lock your head in place, digging deeper. The other hand meandered its way to your thigh, massaging your inner thigh, causing you to grind yourself on his lap, getting growl from him underneath you.

You felt a change in him, his grip became more needy, you were sure there would be marks in the morning.

You pulled back for air, startled at the sound of someone at the door.

“Delivery!” Mark sighed, shaking his head for you to ignore it, as he leaned back in to resume.

“Mark, the food’s here.” You mumbled, keeping the distance between you.

“Forget the food, we’ll just order again.” You kept a hand on his chest, preventing him from starting again.

“Mark.”

“Ugh, fine.” You wiggled off his lap and collapsed in the seat you were originally in. Your eyes followed his back as he opened the door, paying for the food and holding the bag in his tight grip. He was especially tart with the man, in an obvious hurry.

Once the door was shut again he slid the food on the coffee table, and crawled on the couch towards you, having every intention of picking up where you left off.

“Mark, the food’s going to get cold.” You giggled at the sounds he made in protest.

He leaned against the back of the couch, throwing his head back in frustration.

“Fine, we’ll eat first.” He cocked his head at you slightly, choosing to ignore the feeling arising in the pit of his stomach.

You stuck your fork in the first container, popping it into your mouth before chewing thoughtfully.

“Mark...” you sighed, “I actually have something to talk to you about.”

You felt the knot in your stomach dissipate, knowing that confronting him would ease your mind. The plan of going through with it tonight didn’t sit right with you, and you knew it would bother you if you didn’t say something.

“Shoot.” He nodded, chowing down himself.

You let out a deep sigh, instantly catching his attention, and put down your fork.

His brows furrowed as he too set his down, a feeling that things were about to become serious.

“I uh...” you cleared your throat. “I actually know about the bet.”

He clearly stiffened and eyes widened at your admission.

“I can explain!” He rushed out, interrupting you in hopes of stopping whatever you were planning on saying.

“Okay.” You said, shocking him with how calm you were.

“Huh?”

“Go ahead, explain it to me.” Although you knew the gist of what was going on, you were actually curious to know how he got roped into something like this.

“Uh... how much do you know?” He cut himself off. “Actually I’ll just tell you everything.”

He reached for the cup of water in front of him, quickly downing it in hopes of drowning his nerves as well.

“Do you know who Tae Oh is? I swear it wasn’t a bet between my friends, they would never do that.” He gulped, watching your blank expression. “I think you’ve met him before, he’s not a great guy.”

There was an obvious shudder from him. “About a month ago he made a bet that I couldn’t get with a girl, and I honestly didn’t care what he thought. But... he has some stuff over Jeno’s head, and he promised that if I succeeded he would let it go.”

You pursed your lips at the mention of Jeno.

“I... I know I told you I’d tell you everything, but I’m not sure it’s right to tell you about Jeno. I can ask him to talk to you, but I can’t tell you.” He bit his lip anxiously, praying that you would understand.

You nodded, admiring his loyalty, despite his current situation. You gestured for him to continue.

“It’s not like I chose you, I would never purposely hurt you or do that to you. I... I honestly liked you a lot before he even suggested the bet.” He gave you a bashful look, a sudden switch from his nerve wracking expression.

“Tae Oh chose you, I think he did it because he knew that I liked you. I mean back then I wasn’t exactly subtle about it.” A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. “I totally understand if you absolutely hate me now, I mean I would too.”

You looked at his dejected form, “I don’t hate you. If I did I would’ve broke up with you the moment that I found out.”

He looked at you with a confused expression, “Why didn’t you break up with me?” There was a hint of hope in his voice. He wondered if it was possible for you still to like him after what he had done, or was supposed to do.

It would’ve hurt your pride to admit you still liked him despite his actions, so you chose to go with the pity card. “I overheard you talking in your dorm, and someone mentioned that Tae Oh would kill you if you couldn’t finish. I know Tae Oh could really make your life miserable, and I didn’t want to be responsible for that.”

Mark visibly saddened at the idea that you didn’t like him, that you didn’t want to feel guilty about the aftermath.

“Here’s the deal,” you let out, finally coming to a conclusion, “I can’t sleep with you. I don’t feel comfortable with that anymore.”

Mark winced, feeling a tight lump grow in his throat at the thought of you not able to stand him, and the thought that he makes you uncomfortable.

“I don’t want Tae Oh to win though, for both your sake and Jeno’s.” He made eye contact, clear that he was shocked.

“I don’t know what the rules are, or what proof you have to have, but I’ll help you with that. But that’s all I can do.”

Mark didn’t look thrilled at the idea, if anything he looked dejected. However grateful he was that you were willing to do this to help him, he couldn’t help but wish you didn’t pity him. If it weren’t for Jeno he would’ve rather taken punishment from Tae Oh, after all that’s what he deserved.

“Mark, you have no idea what this means to me. Thank you so much.” Jeno grinned at him, wrapping him in a suffocating hug, making Mark feel worse.

“Right, it’s not like I couldn’t do it for you.” It was monotone, he was unable to show his real feelings about the situation.

“So how’s Y/N?” Jaemin asked, watching the interaction.

“What do you mean?” Mark furrowed his brows and directed his attention at the other boy.

“Well, you guys can still date, she doesn’t have to know it was a bet.” He shrugged as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. Oh how badly Mark wanted that statement to be true.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean?” It was Jaemin’s turn to be confused.

“We broke up.” Mark avoided eye contact with anyone else, staring up at the sky and squinting in the bright light.

“Why? Did you tell her?” Haechan asked, “I didn’t think you had it in you to do that right after the bet was over.” He frowned to himself. “Don’t you think that was too harsh?”

Renjun elbowed Haechan in the side, shutting him up. As one of the more attentive of the group, he could see the way that Mark was acting in response.

“What could I do?” Mark shrugged, trying so hard not to let his voice crack and play it off like he didn’t care. If only they knew that it was the other way around. But he took Haechan’s blows, after all he deserved it, he was the cause of it anyways.

“Y/N! Hey!” You heard Jeno’s footsteps sidle up beside you, the faint breathing evidence that he had jogged to you.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly embarrassed to thank you.

“Um, thanks. I just want to let you know that it wasn’t like it seemed, Mark was just trying to help me. He’s not a bad guy, I know he probably seemed harsh, but he really didn’t want to do it.”

He gulped, and peered over at your face, more than shocked at the fact that it was expressionless. Too similar to the one they had gotten used to seeing on Mark.

“I know.” You hiked your bag up higher on you bag, gripping tightly on the straps for support.

“Mark really likes you. For real. He’s been really upset, beating himself up for it you know. He won’t admit to it, but we all can see it.”

You squinted your eyes closed, trying to ignore the underlying meaning of Jeno’s words.

“He wouldn’t ever just use you like that. You know him.”

You had enough.

“Do I? Because this was a far cry from the Mark that I knew, or at least I thought I knew.” You sent one last look before escaping out the doorway, leaving Jeno behind with a hurt look.

Jeno never wanted to hurt either of you, but it was a consequence of his stupid decisions. And now other people had to pay for his mistakes.

“Y/N.” You stopped in your tracks, it seemed that no matter where you went you couldn’t get away from them.

“Renjun.” You replied curtly, having nothing else to say to him. Beside him was the familiar pair of shoes, one’s you would always recognize.

Mark shyly lifted his hand to greet you, but dropped it as if he realized that he no longer had the right to.

Renjun, ever the observer watched the interaction, taking in the tense air between the two of you.

“Guys I’m telling you something’s not right. I know it was stupid, but Mark is really suffering.” Renjun spilled to the rest of the boys, “We ran into Y/N and he looked so depressed. It was really bad.”

“Well, of course it’s gonna be bad, Mark basically used her.” Haechan let out, never thinking about his words.

“Haechan!”

“What am I wrong?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“You don’t have to say it like that.” Jaemin scolded, glancing at Jeno who seemed more stoney than usual.

“He’s right though.” Jeno let out. “It’s my fault, I never should’ve let Mark do it.”

“Jeno, you didn’t know what Tae Oh was going to do.” Jaemin comforted him, to which he was met with empty eyes.

“I ran into Y/N, but she wasn’t having it. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive him.” Jeno dropped his head in his hands.

There was a silence as none of the boys knew how to comfort him.

“What’s going on?” Mark stood in the doorway, watching the scene before him unfold.

“Nothing.” Renjun quickly covered up.

“Jeno? What’s going on?” Mark ignored Renjun’s excuse and focused on the downtrodden boy.

“I’m sorry.” Jeno’s voice sounded broken, leaving Mark on edge.

“Why?”

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have let you do it. I swear I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt. I tried to explain everything to Y/N, I’ll try again, I promise.” He pleaded with Mark, hoping that he would forgive him.

“Oh.” Mark stepped back from Jeno, the emotionless tone coming through again.

“Please, I promise I’ll try to fix things.”

“Don’t, it’s fine. There’s nothing to fix anymore.” Jeno hated the look Mark had on his face. “Don’t bother explaining, she already knows everything.”

“What?” Renjun butted in, unable to hold his curiosity.

“She overheard everything. We didn’t actually sleep together, she just let me pretend so we would win the bet.” Mark picked up his bag that he had dropped on the floor earlier.

“But-”

“Jeno, it’s fine. Explaining won’t change anything. There’s nothing you can do to change it. Don’t stress yourself out, or blame yourself. I’m just as much at fault, I chose to do it.”

With that Mark, left the same way he came in, no longer feeling like he could stand to be under the scrutiny of the other boys.

“Wait, she knew? And she faked the whole thing for him?” Haechan scratched his head, still processing the bomb Mark dropped on them. “But doesn’t that mean that she still cares about him? Why would she do that for him?”

“Haechan for once you didn’t say something stupid. I agree. I think we should talk to Y/N, chances are if she did that for him, she still cares about him.” Renjun nodded enthusiastically, eager to fix the situation.

“I’ll do it.” Jeno said, gritting his teeth.

“Jeno.”

“No, I fucked everything up, I need to fix it.” He turned to Jaemin, placing a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him.

“I know what you did.” Jeno blurted out, startling you.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you and Mark didn’t actually sleep together.” The look on his face slightly scared you, and you weren’t sure whether him knowing was a good thing or not.

“Did he tell you that?” You cocked your head to the side, trying to feel out the situation.

“Yeah, and I know why you did it too.” Jeno leaned down, getting eye level with you. “You still like him don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I did it cause I felt bad. I didn’t want to feel like it was my fault you guys would suffer.” You looked away from him, watching the stream of students exit the library. “And no, how could I like him after that? He used me.”

“You know exactly why though, if you’re going to hate anyone, hate me.” His words more aggressive, a tactic he was using to redirect your anger.

“I don’t hate him,” you mumbled out, “and I don’t hate you.”

“See, you did that because you still care about him.” He prodded, “If you didn’t you would’ve never let him pretend to go through with it.”

He paused letting that sink in, “For what it’s worth, he still cares very much about you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so depressed.”

You sighed, “I don’t want him to be depressed.”

“Then you should talk to him. I know you guys still have feelings for each other, and honestly it’s hurting you guys more to ignore it.” He raised his eyebrows earnestly, giving you a tempting offer.

“I know for a fact that if you were willing to take him back, he would beg for forgiveness. Mark loves you Y/N.” The last bit came out soft, but it had the biggest impact.

Your heart ached, yearning for him despite the situation.

“Just talk to him. I know I don’t deserve to ask that of you, but I’m begging you, for Mark’s sake.” You had never seen Jeno this distraught before.

All you could do is nod.

“Y/N?” Mark froze at the sight of you standing on the other side of the door.

“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, com- come on in.” He stuttered, embarrassed at how nervous he was. “Do you want something to drink... or?”

“No, I’m fine.” You mumbled, staring at your sleeves. “I just wanted to talk about, you know.”

“Right.”

The two of you took the chance to settle into the familiar couch, memories of your relationship coming back to you.

“I don-”

“I know-”

You blushed at the awkward atmosphere.

“You first.” Mark let you continue.

You cleared your throat. “I talked to Jeno.”

He nodded silently, “I told him to stop bothering you, I’ll talk to him again.”

“No, there’s no need.” You let out, “We talked about some things, more specifically things between us.”

Mark gulped, unable to see where you were going with this.

“I’m probably really stupid for doing this, but I’m obviously attracted to stupid.” You tried to joke, referencing Mark. No matter how much you tried to relieve the tension, it still hovered over you like a think cloud.

He let out a nervous laugh, dying out to let you continue.

“You have no how much I wanted to hate you when I found out. And you have no idea how much I hated myself for not hating you.”

Mark sat up at the insinuation that you didn’t hate him.

“Mark, I still like you a lot. There’s a part of me that hates myself for liking you even after everything, but there’s a larger part of me that tells me that this is more important.” You took a deep breath, struggling to finish your thought.

“I love you.”

You choked back your breath in shock, you weren’t expecting him to confess so bluntly.

“I was stupid and I hate that I did that to you, but I want you do know that I don’t regret helping Jeno, I just should’ve gone about it a different way, one that wouldn’t have any casualties. I would’ve begged on my knees if I had to, but I didn’t feel like I had the right to. Honestly, I figured I would be doing you a favor by leaving you alone.” His nervous tick of picking at his nails made it clear that he was just as nervous as you were.

“I don’t want to praise you for doing something like this, because it was stupid and hurtful, but I’m glad you were able to help Jeno.” You smiled at him, “He’s really thankful, you have know idea how many times he let me know that. He also kept me updated on you, and that definitely didn’t help my feelings go away.”

Mark felt a surge of happiness rise in him, the realization that you still like him, the hope that this wasn’t the end of your relationship, and the gratitude that his prayers were answered.

“Mark, I love you too.”

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

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hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

#mgg smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #rpf #criminal minds #mgg oneshot

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