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sakur4ii · 3 months ago

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Rooted Connections Pt.2

Charles Xavier x Reader x Erik Lensherr

the gender of the reader is not specified

Note: I will not make a third part, I hope you like it. Also reminder that English is not my first language, let me know if there are any mistakes I didn't notice (especially with pronouns).

Summary: feelings come out, plants love romance and you are still as blind as in the first part.

Finally, peace.

After supposedly saving the future from great chaos, Charles decided to reopen the doors of his school, offering you to stay with him. You accepted because you didn't want to leave him alone, feeling his sadness through the earth. Although in reality, he wasn’t alone; he now had his students, but the connection the three of you had created was so strong that you feared that if you also left, he would break again.

Years have passed, and now the school is full, and you are a teacher.

You walk through the halls, searching for something, maybe someone, though you’re not sure. The mansion’s plants have warned you but haven’t specified anything, so you proceed cautiously, trying to find some intruder.

"Professor Y/N,” you hear, a voice you know well.

“What is it, Jean?” You turn around; you can’t see her clearly, but you can feel her nerves and hear her heart beating faster than usual.

“Someone is approaching from the backyard.”

Before she finishes speaking, you are already running to the backyard. The plants don’t want to reveal anything, and for some reason, you don’t feel any unusual presence, leading you to assume that the earth doesn’t want you to know who the intruder is on purpose.

Once your bare feet touch the green, damp grass, you stop feeling the presence of everyone at the school except for the person sitting on the grass a few feet away from you, and Charles, who is coming up behind you.

You take slow steps toward the seated person, hearing a gasp behind you. You sit down next to him and wait for Charles to come closer until he is on the other side of the man.

“What are you doing here, Erik?” Charles asks. You can feel his conflicting emotions through his voice. On one hand, he is happy to see him again and that it isn’t to stop him from killing all of humanity and condemning mutants. On the other hand, he’d love to punch him again for prioritizing revenge and abandoning him.

But you focus more on the absolute pain you feel from Erik through the earth. You can feel him mourning, yet also very angry, seeking comfort to avoid vengeance.

When Charles doesn’t receive any response, and you can assume he also starts to feel the man’s emotions, you wrap your arm around Erik’s shoulders, pulling him into a side hug, enough for him to start crying.

“I tried,” he sobs into your neck, while Charles sits on the ground, leaving the chair aside and firmly holding Erik’s hand between his own. “I tried to live like them, to blend in, and they… they killed my wife and daughter.”

You don’t know what to say; you don’t know how to comfort him with words, so you just rub his back. You know Charles is afraid of saying something wrong, something that will only make the situation worse, so both of you remain silent, comforting your old friend (and the third missing piece of the puzzle) through gentle touches.

“I didn’t know where else to go… you’re all I have left.”

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

You weren’t born blind; you had the privilege of seeing the color of the sky and vegetation. You had the privilege of having a favorite color, but an accident occurred, and it was no longer worth thinking about things like a favorite book or a favorite flower because you couldn’t see anything anymore.

Plants are very talkative; they always have been. They love to gossip, and they love drama. The day before the accident, they were very hysterical, sensing something bad was coming, but they couldn’t say what.

Then the accident happened, and you were hospitalized. The plants felt guilty, apologizing over and over, even the plants you didn’t know but who knew you, apologizing and feeling ashamed that they hadn’t been useful, that they couldn’t prevent the tragedy.

It was when you lost your sight that your powers began to manifest: control of the earth, the ability to feel through it. Your mentors were the plants, the trees, and the earth itself. You learned that you could see through the roots of trees, and that was an easy way to find something or someone.

When you met Charles, even before the man arrived at your house, the plants were more talkative than usual. They told you everything they knew, like how Logan was from the future and needed help, your help. But they mostly talked about Professor X and a puzzle. You couldn’t understand them, but their excitement amused you.

When they freed Erik from that cell, the plants began talking non-stop again, once more about a supposed puzzle and Erik’s entire life, about how angry they were with some of his actions but how much they appreciated him.

The first time they fell completely silent was when Erik shot Raven; the second was when Erik fled to avoid being captured.

The third time you didn’t understand the silence; you were listening to Charles reading to his younger students, and out of nowhere, the plants fell silent, a mourning silence.

And the fourth time was the day after the third when Erik appeared unannounced at the school. Although it was more for drama—did I mention they are dramatic?

Erik stayed at the school, purposely obtaining the room that was between yours and Charles’.

If before the plants always talked about Charles, Erik, and his family and the children at school, now, whenever you entered your room, they only talked about Charles and Erik. You only heard about the children if you went outside.

A couple of years have passed. Erik is visibly better, happier, and that makes you happy because it’s real, he’s not pretending, and you’re the first to know that.

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

Your room is a madhouse; you feel like you’re losing your sanity. They won’t stop talking about how handsome, intelligent, and kind Charles is, or how hot, serious, and cunning Erik is. They have the audacity to tease you for not being able to see them, those bitches. When did they go from remorse to mockery?

“What time is it?” you ask, tired, sitting on the edge of your bed while putting on your sunglasses. They all ignore you, except for some jasmine flowers Charles gave you for your birthday along with some heart-shaped sunglasses.

You leave the room, grateful for the silence the hallway plants give you. You don’t know what to do; maybe you’ll go to the kitchen and eat some ice cream, you’re not sure.

When you arrive at the kitchen and take out a tub of ice cream and a spoon, you’re surprised that no plant has told you not to eat something so cold in the middle of the night, raising your suspicions.

You focus on the earth, sensing how all the children and adults are sleeping, everyone except Xavier and Lensherr, which makes you sigh tiredly.

Lately, the plants not only wouldn’t stop talking about them, but they also did everything possible to ensure you spent most of your time in the same room with them, and you only complied because deep down, you wanted that too.

You finish the ice cream and walk through the halls to Charles’ office, without any obstacles in the way (the children make sure not to leave anything lying around that might hinder you, even though they know you could easily avoid it; they fear you might get distracted and have an accident).

—“Come in”— you hear in your head, making you jump in place, and some nearby flowers laugh.

You open the door, and for some reason, they’re both sitting on a three-seater couch. Charles’ wheelchair is set aside to not get in the way, and the plants laugh conspiratorially.

«Speak of the devil…» a flower murmurs, sparking your curiosity.

“Can’t sleep?” Xavier asks. You shake your head. The other man is silent; you know he’s watching you, his intense gaze on you. Sometimes you think he has the power to read souls and keeps it a secret.

Charles laughs at your thought, but you don’t notice him elbowing Erik to stop being so obvious.

“Come sit with us, darling.”

The flowers and plants in the room react as if the pet name was directed at them, as if expressing what you don’t dare express even in your own head for fear the telepath might discover your feelings.

Smiling, you approach the couch. Erik, the closest to you, takes your hand and guides you to sit between them.

“What were you talking about?” you ask.

“Nothing important; we were just planning to take the older kids on a field trip, maybe,” Charles responds, and you know he’s not lying, but from the booing of the plants, you can tell that wasn’t what they were discussing before you arrived.

Erik remains silent; you can’t figure out why. Lately, you can’t sense his feelings, only his emotions, and you can guess that the earth is hiding them on purpose—or maybe the metal?

What you do sense is his knee brushing against yours and his gaze trying not to linger on you for too long.

You tilt your head to one side, sharpening your hearing, trying to pick up something more; you don’t know what, but you want to hear all their movements and, above all, the beating of their hearts.

Just when you perfectly hear their rapid heartbeats, the plants start making a ruckus, making you frown.

“What’s wrong?” Erik finally speaks.

“Why don’t the plants want me to hear your heartbeats?”

Unbeknownst to you, Erik and Charles share a wide-eyed look of complicity.

—“We should tell her”— Erik.

—“Now?”— Charles.

The silence between the two men creates a lump in your throat. Since that day on the plane, you felt like you were missing something in the dynamic, all because you couldn’t see. You felt out of place in moments like these, where they might be communicating with just a glance—or worse, telepathically. You hated the thought that they were having secret conversations, thinking that they were using the fact that you couldn't see to communicate in secret. And you hated knowing they were communicating because you could feel the change in emotions through the ground, but what you hated even more was that now you couldn't even feel the emotions of the two men because nature decided to turn its back on you this time.

Tired, you get up from the couch.

"Sorry for interrupting your time alone, I'm going to bed."

You avoid the obstacles you can't feel now but know are there.

"Y/N, no, wait! It's not what you think, let me explain," Charles says, while Erik gets up and runs towards you, grabbing you so you won't escape (and without you knowing, preventing you from bumping into the closed door).

"Listen to them, listen to them, listen to them," the plants chant in unison as you squirm in his grip. The earth allows you to see through your feet again, finally letting you feel the emotions of the two men, which makes you stop struggling and fall into shock at what you're sensing.

"You two are in love," you whisper.

Erik leads you back to the couch and sits you down so that you're facing the telepath, while he hugs you from behind and hides his face in the crook of your neck. He's embarrassed.

Charles gently removes your sunglasses, and you can feel his emotions not just through the ground but also inside your head. He takes your hand in his.

"We’ve been debating whether or not to tell you; we didn't know how you'd react, darling."

"So much secrecy just to tell me you two are dating? I'm not homophobic if that's what you were worried about," you say with an amused smile.

You're sure both men are rolling their eyes.

«Don't be an idiot» a flower says.

"Shush."

Charles laughs while Erik raises an eyebrow in a questioning manner towards him, knowing he's missing something.

"We're not just dating, Y/N. We love you as much as we love each other, and we want you to be a part of what we have because you're the missing piece of the puzzle," says Charles.

"And we want you to be officially ours," adds Erik.

Their words take you by surprise, making your heart race a thousand miles an hour. You're sure you're blushing, and loose words echo in your head.

The missing piece of the puzzle... ha... that sounds familiar.

At some point during the evening, you moved to Erik's room (the one furthest from the other rooms, with only one flower that you gave him a long time ago), where you shared kisses, hugs, words, and feelings. Where you expressed the great love you share, making grand plans for the future. And where you realized that you never were out of place; rather, you had always been missing, so they could feel complete.

The End.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

@djlnkaled @kindlover @only-nope @larissa1379 👋❤️

#x men x you #x reader #x male reader #x female reader #x men x reader #erik lehnsherr x reader #charles xavier x reader #magneto x reader #gender neutral reader #polyamory

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defectivevillain · 2 months ago

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broken vessels

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used. there's one mention of glasses, but that's the extent of my self indulgence.

summary:

You sit down across from Hannibal. It feels like a surrender. The food is quite good, but that realization isn’t enough to keep your despair at bay. The chain around your ankle fixes you to this room, to this meal, to this man sitting across from you. And he knows it, judging from the smile pulling at his lips.

You had no idea just how drastically your life would change after becoming Hannibal Lecter's therapist.

word count: 7.8k | ao3 version

author's notes: This fic has been rotting in my drafts for too long. The transitions are a bit choppy, but I just had to realize this into the wild. So... yeah.

The focus of this fic is Hannibal Lecter/Reader; there is no explicit romance, but I am a diehard fan of the inherent homoeroticism that is Hannibal Lecter. If you’re looking for a happy ending or romance, you won’t find it here. Also this won't be canon compliant, since Sam and Hannibal are very different. You have been warned!

And if you aren’t familiar with The Patient… Well, you’re in for a wild ride. For now, all you need to know is that the reader is a therapist and Hannibal visits them for a session. (And you should also watch the series when you get the chance, because it's very good.)

warnings: canon-typical violence, depictions of mental illness, suicidal ideation, self-harm, hopelessness, kidnapping, captivity/imprisonment, blood and injury, cannibalism

Hannibal Lecter is an interesting patient. You’re not sure what compels him to come to you one dreary morning, when the sky is muddled with grey and there is nothing but the threat of a storm on the horizon. You just know that your doorbell rings at exactly 10:00 a.m., and you open it to find a fine-dressed man with perfectly coiffed hair and an easy smile on his face. The expression is nothing short of polite, yet you feel as if there is unspeakab;e malice dripping from the corners of his lips. You invite him in and urge him to take a seat wherever he feels comfortable. The man regards the room for a moment, before sitting in the armchair you typically sit in. Unperturbed by the seating change, you move to the couch parallel to your usual chair.

For a while, there is only silence. You get the feeling the man is surveying you, scrutinizing you in his mind’s eye. You watch him and he watches you back. While you’re content to let the silence settle over the room, after a few minutes, you decide to speak up and ask him why he decided to come for a session with you.

The first session doesn’t prove to be entirely eventful, but it rarely is. Since it’s your first interaction, you spend most of the time trying to get to know him better. You learn that the man—Hannibal—was a surgeon and is now a psychiatrist, rather renowned for his research. Idly, you have to wonder how he came across you—and why he’s giving you a chance. Surely Hannibal has access to any of his colleagues, who are distinguished scholars. Maybe he needs a break from that, you then think.

Ultimately, your first session with Hannibal isn’t cause for concern. Your attention instead falls to your third session together, when you begin to realize that he’s being deliberately vague with his answers—and that he seems to favor dishonesty over truthfulness.

“Hannibal,” you remark, your heart thudding steadily in your chest, “I get the sense that you haven’t been quite honest with me.” You feel unreasonably apprehensive, as if this single accusation will ruin the little progress you’ve made with him. Yet, you can’t even call your past two sessions “progress,” can you? You spent the entire time attempting to stay afloat amidst the fluid conversation, feeling somewhat frustrated and confused all the same.

“I’ve been perfectly honest with you,” Hannibal responds. The look on his face is seamlessly calm. You’re nervous, but you continue. Therapy conducted under pretense is pointless, after all. Besides, this man knows what he’s doing. His behavior has been purposeful.

“You haven’t been,” you say, “and I think we both know that.” Hannibal looks at you—really looks at you—for what feels like the first time. His eyes are a glittering maroon and a slight smile rises on his face. Somehow, you can’t shake the inexplicable feeling that you’ve just made a grave misstep.

You continue to recall that third session as you stare up at the ceiling of your bedroom, your vision slowly growing fuzzy. You’re tired, but it’s taking you a while to fall asleep. Your mind is racing, recalling several different moments scattered across your lifetime that you’d rather forget. You try to focus on your breathing and, eventually, your eyes fall shut.

Your dreams are weird—which is saying something, since dreams are usually weird. These particular dreams feel like omens for the future and, if that is the case, then your future can’t be very good. You dream of sharp mirrors, harsh corners, and neatly-carved lines. You dream of an infinite winding labyrinth that you can’t escape from, of a puppet-master watching you stumble through a never-ending maze with amusement, of your tattered visage reflected in the jagged shards of a broken mirror.

You jolt awake with a gasp on your tongue, your throat feeling extremely dry. It takes you a few moments to internalize that you’re awake and no longer dreaming. There’s a cup of water on the bedside table and you reach for it, wincing at how heavy your limbs feel. Eventually, you reach the water and take a sip. The glass is cold against your skin and, when you put it back, you nearly miss your nightstand entirely. That’s a little strange—the nightstand has occupied that position for years. Why would your muscle memory fail you now, all of a sudden?

You swing your legs to the side of the bed, only to hear an ominous rattling sound—almost reminiscent of metal clinking against the ground. You reach down and try to feel your way around in the dark, grabbing your glasses from the nightstand and putting them on. The darkness momentarily sharpens and a sense of foreboding prickles along your skin. Your surroundings look strangely unfamiliar. Unease pulling at your gut, you reach down, down, down—only to find a thick chain secured around your ankle. You tug at it, panic rising in your chest as you realize it’s not coming off. You then push yourself to your feet and walk a few steps, testing how far the chain will go. It doesn’t reach far enough for you to thoroughly explore the unfamiliar space—just barely getting to the small room that looks to be a bathroom. Upon further investigation, there’s nothing in the bathroom that would help you get the chain off. The toothbrush and disposable toothpaste resting inconspicuously on the counter throw you off guard. Was this planned? It’s abundantly clear to you now that you’ve been kidnapped. Did your captor plan this out and configure this bathroom for a captive?

You manage to convince yourself to move back out to the main room, only to find a meal placed on the small plastic table situated past the end of the bed. You don’t recognize the food and, frankly, you don’t want to know what it is. The thought of food right now is enough to make you nearly throw up. You instead decide to continue testing how far you can move with your chain. It turns out you can’t move very far at all: you only have access to the bed, the nightstands, and the nearby bathroom. There are a set of glass doors across from the bed and hints of the morning sun illuminate the room in a hazy glow, revealing polished furniture and elegant decorations. It seems your captor has rather distinguished tastes.

In hindsight, seeing Hannibal Lecter come down the stairs moments later is more of a shock than it should be. Your eyes widen and you blink a few times, convinced your mind is conjuring illusions. Hannibal stares at you in return, before sending you a small smile—as if sharing an inside joke.

Meanwhile, you’re panicking. There’s a good chance Hannibal is the one who trapped you here. “Hey, where am I?” You ask apprehensively. Seeing Hannibal simultaneously provokes relief and dread within you. You tug at the chain on your ankle, but it doesn’t budge. “Hannibal? Why am I here?” “This is my home,” Hannibal answers. You feel your heart drop to your stomach. It was a foolish thought to think Hannibal would be here by mere coincidence, but it kept your hopes alive. Now, you’re left to the bleak despair that clings to your ankle like a vice. “I need to speak with you.”

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend that statement, in the wake of all the thoughts running through your mind. “You could’ve called me to book an appointment,” you eventually point out, struggling to keep yourself calm. You’re trapped here, and the chain on your ankle is extremely thick and sturdy. Not to mention, you can’t reach the door; you don’t have your phone; and you have a bad feeling Hannibal is the sole occupant of this house. How on earth will you escape?

“This is… an ongoing concern,” Hannibal interjects. It takes you a few moments to process that statement. Then, at your disbelieving look, he continues. “Our typical environment was not suitable.”

“Not suitable?” Panic is beginning to seep through your voice. You know you should probably be maintaining your composure, but it’s rather difficult to do so when you’re faced with the inevitability of your captivity. “What part of this environment is suitable? I have a chain around my ankle and I can’t leave!” You try to take a deep breath and manifest a level of composure that you certainly don’t have at the present moment. You look eyes with him and attempt to get through to him. “Hannibal. Take this chain off my ankle.”

You don’t expect your attempt at persuasion to work and, indeed, Hannibal is silent. He regards you for a moment before stepping forward, momentarily fooling you into thinking he may genuinely release you. Then, he takes another step and pulls a chair out from the table to take a seat. He motions for you to take the other seat. You shake your head and remain on the bed, opting to keep as much distance from Hannibal as possible. Unfortunately, it still doesn’t feel like enough—as his eyes pin you in place.

You’re not sure how long you spend trapped in your spiraling thoughts, before you attempt to speak to your captor again. “Hannibal,” you say, trying to maintain your composure. You’re grasping at the sheets of the bed with shaking hands. “Whatever you have to talk about, I am willing to listen to you. But not like this.”

There’s a beat of silence. You aren’t deluded enough to think this conversation is getting you any closer to an escape. Instead, Hannibal regards you for a moment, clasping his hands on the table. He holds his utensils in a strangely tight grip, as if they’re weapons. The knife makes you particularly nervous, but it pales in comparison to his next statement. “You would be legally required to share the information I divulge.” Therapists have a firm code of ethics, which dictates that information must be brought to the local authorities if it involves harm to oneself or others. The thought makes an ugly feeling stew in your stomach. You inhale slowly.

“This is your last chance,” you warn, despite knowing you have no power in this situation. “Let me go, and I’ll pretend this never happened. We can go back to the way things were. I won’t press charges or anything. Okay?” You think that’s a pretty generous offer, all things considered.

For a moment, the air is entirely still. Then, the expression on Hannibal’s face flickers. “Would you like something to eat?” he eventually responds.

You stare at him in disbelief. It seems you underestimated Hannibal and his cruelty. Your tongue feels ironed to the roof of your mouth, and you take a deep breath before shaking your head silently. You move back on the bed, your back finding the headboard. You pull your knees up and rest your arms, clasping your hands and closing your eyes. Maybe, if you keep your eyes closed for long enough, this scenario will simply… disappear.

Hannibal takes a bite of his food, ignorant of your internal conflict. The small clinks of his silverware against the plate are the only noises in the otherwise tense air. Even when Hannibal’s gaze is focused on something else, you feel as if he’s watching you. You don’t dare to move a single muscle. There’s an uncomfortable silence settling in the air.

“I met with many different therapists,” Hannibal remarks, apropos of nothing. He levels you with a scrutinizing gaze. You blink and you see your head on his dinner plate. You shake off the grotesque thought. “I chose you.” Is that supposed to make you feel better? It only makes you feel more uneasy.

After some time eating silently, Hannibal gets up from his seat and takes his empty plate. You watch as he steps towards the hallway from which he came—leaving you suspicious and wary as you wait for something to happen. In the time after his departure, you’re still tense. Will he be back soon? You’re not sure how long you sit there, dreading his return.

Eventually, after what must be at least two hours, you conclude that Hannibal won’t be returning. You decide to lie down, curling up on your side. Perhaps if you close your eyes, you’ll wake up from this nightmare.

…But the universe isn’t that merciful, and you wake up hours later with a helplessness that clings to your skin. This wasn’t some twisted nightmare—it’s reality. And your reality is inescapable. You’re a bird with clipped wings, trapped in a gilded cage.

Hannibal visits in the middle of the day. Your eyes follow him the moment he enters the room; as if recognizing this, he seems to take delight in moving as agonizingly slow as possible. Despite the deliberate slow pace to his movements, you recognize the show for what it is. Hannibal is a predator on the prowl. You are his prey, left baring your bleeding flesh before a salivating maw.

It’s not helpful to think about what you could have done instead of pushing him to be honest. But you think about it anyway. If you had let him have his lies, his understanding but strained smiles… what would have happened? The self-defeating part of you wants to say he would’ve left you alone, but you know that’s a desperate thought. No. Somehow, you piqued Hannibal’s interest from the moment you found him on your doorstep.

Realistically speaking, he could’ve been watching you long before that. You’re not sure if he’s the type to stalk people; then again, you didn’t characterize him as the kidnapping type at first, and look where you are now. The thought drags a wry laugh from your lips, inadvertently drawing Hannibal’s attention towards you. He motions for you to join him at the table, where he’s prepared some sort of meal. Despite your growling stomach, you refuse the offer. Hannibal only raises a brow, as if he sees your fleeting attempt at resistance and views it to be a waste of time. Your refusal does give you an illusion of control. You feel as if you have power—however slight—over this situation.

You don’t think you’ll cave so quickly, but by the time he returns that night with a late dinner, you’re fighting off the instinct to join him at the table. As if recognizing this, Hannibal stares at you with twinkling eyes. You grit your teeth. Unfortunately, you don’t really have a choice anymore. If you want to navigate his mind games, you need to be completely focused. Your hunger and aching stomach can’t serve as distractions.

You sit down across from him. It feels like a surrender. The food is quite good, but that realization isn’t enough to keep your despair at bay. The chain around your ankle fixes you to this room, to this meal, to this man sitting across from you. And he knows it.

As you’re eating, you realize you’ve been given a knife. You frown and look at the meal before you. There’s meat on Hannibal’s plate, but not on yours. Why were you given a knife, if you didn’t need one? Initially, you want to think it’s just a mistake. But you don’t think your captor would overlook something like that. Nearly every action of Hannibal's so far has been purposeful, even if that purpose was beyond your understanding. It’s very hard to believe that the knife is a simple oversight.

But the knife’s purpose doesn’t really matter. All that matters is that you have a weapon. Hannibal is well within striking range, since the table you’re eating at is rather small. You could easily reach out and stab him in the hand, but then what…? You would still have the chain on your ankle. If you dealt him a powerful blow, you could incapacitate him at the very least. You’re not familiar with knives, though, so an attempt to incapacitate him could quickly become a murder. That’s a risk you think you’re going to have to take. You’re not sure when you’ll have another opportunity like this.

You reach out and take both your fork and knife, pretending you’re going to cross them on your plate to signal that you’re finished with the meal. Your hand doesn’t want to relinquish its awkward grip on the knife, though. Something about the blade’s steady pressure against your palm is grounding. You realize you’re drawing blood when droplets fall to mark the wooden table. Hannibal’s eyes follow the movement, as if he actually heard the sound of your blood hitting the surface of the table. He’s momentarily distracted.

So you strike.

At least, you try to. When his attention is captured, you slide your grip down to the handle of the knife, winding back and aiming at his neck. But Hannibal is inhumanly fast, and he quickly grabs your wrist with bruising strength until the utensil clatters back to its place on the table. Your eyes meet and you see only raw, unadulterated fury. A shiver crawls down your spine as a bone-deep fear settles past your skin. You’re going to die.

Seconds drag on and, while Hannibal is still holding your wrist, the strength of his grip slowly fades. The silence is almost more painful than the white-hot irritation of the gash on your palm. With bated breath, you watch as Hannibal lets your wrist fall. Dread churning in your stomach, you’re frozen as he leaves the room. Terror stews in your chest at the anticipation he’s leaving you in. What weapon will he choose to end your life?

Hannibal returns moments later with a clear container. You bite the inside of your cheek and watch silently as he approaches you, setting the bin on the table before taking your wrist and studying the minor gash on your palm. Something close to disapproval passes over his face for a quick second, before it’s replaced with a clinical gaze.

Your hand is trembling ever so slightly. If Hannibal notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he obtains ointment from the container of medical supplies and spreads it along your scrape—before wrapping a bandage around your hand and wrist. His movements are precise and practiced; even if you were unaware of his background, you’d know he had experience as a medical practitioner.

“Don’t try that again.” His voice is deceptively light; you don’t need to look far to see the anger coiled in his tight shoulders. You nod silently, your throat burning as you’re overcome with your own helplessness. With that, he walks back to the table, collects the dishes, and leaves the room. You stare down at your newly-bandaged hand, a renewed anguish promptly replacing any hope for escape. That attempt just now was a colossal failure. You didn’t think you were too obvious about your intentions, but he had reacted as if he expected you to stab him. Maybe that knife was placed there purposefully. Maybe, for reasons beyond your current comprehension, Hannibal wanted you to threaten his life.

You really don’t know what to do with that information. You settle for reclining on the mattress and closing your eyes, still fighting off that foolish hope that you’ll wake sweat-soaked in your own bedroom, breathing hard from the fictitious nightmare you just experienced.

Not much is born from your failure to escape, save for a few things: 1) a downgrade to plastic silverware, which makes you laugh in hysterical defeat; 2) pervasive hopelessness; and 3) a need for a new coping mechanism. Planning to escape no longer seems like a productive use of your time—trying to create something out of nothing is just insanity. Instead of maniacally going through every physically possible way to escape—a list which currently has zero items on it—you find yourself meditating.

You were never the meditative type; you had many therapists who told you to meditate on your problems, and you promised yourself that you would never give that kind of advice to your patients. Mindfulness itself isn’t a bad suggestion, but the suggestion of meditation—crossed legs, pinched fingers—always felt like a slap in the face.

You were so desperate once that you gave it a try. Predictably, your skeptical nature prevented it from actually working. But, ironically, when you tried it again a few days later, you found that you were able to compartmentalize your thoughts better. It didn’t necessarily make you feel calm in the way everyone claimed it did, but meditation helped you sort out the seemingly infinite tangle of problems in your mental cobweb. And if that cobweb was tangled before, it’s an absolute wreck now. Trapped in a man’s basement with no means of escape is a never-ending fountain of dread, regret, fear, and stress.

At first, you just try to count to large numbers in your head. It helps you pass the time, in a room with no other form of entertainment. You slowly work your way up to tackling actual thoughts from there, and you find that, with time, you’re able to suppress unwanted feelings slightly. It’s nothing ground-breaking. But coping with your situation is one hell of a difficult task, so you’re proud of yourself for making any progress at all.

This meditation becomes somewhat of a routine. You find yourself retreating into the depths of your mind at least once a day, if not two or three times. It’s a welcome escape from the unfamiliar room around you. Everything fades away, until you’re submerged in an endless void. Memories flicker before your eyes in brief flashes of light, visible but intangible.

This meditation has one flaw: it leaves you entirely unguarded and defenseless. You were preoccupied with this notion during your first few attempts, but after you returned to the empty room each time, you began to forget your fear. But losing that fear made you complacent. You soon found yourself entirely ignoring the room around you—ignoring footsteps, ignoring shadows passing across the walls. While you often returned to reality to find yourself alone… that wasn’t always the case.

When you’re finished with meditation one night, you open your eyes to find Hannibal standing in front of you. You immediately flinch and suck in a startled breath, nearly falling backwards on the bed as you create more distance between the two of you. It doesn’t take much contemplation to understand what he’s doing here. He was watching you, observing you. You never noticed him cross the threshold of the doorway; you didn’t notice him approach you with intrigue in his eyes as he regarded your vulnerable form. You were lost in the workings of your mind palace, your eyes closed and hands clasped in your lap.

“Hannibal,” you say, when you regain the ability to speak. “You scared me.” That’s an understatement. Your heart is positively racing in your chest. Hannibal has that damned smirk on his face, suggesting that your terror only amuses him. You grit your teeth and pretend not to notice the satisfaction practically radiating off of him.

He finally stops looming over you, turning on his heel and walking over to the table. When he takes a seat, he immediately looks at you expectantly. “Take a seat,” Hannibal verbalizes, when a few seconds pass and you don’t make a move.

You do as requested, albeit with a lot of restless fidgeting. Whenever the two of you sit at the table and there isn’t any food, you know a therapy session is beginning. Admittedly, your interactions so far barely qualify as sessions—Hannibal has still been frustratingly vague with what he’s experiencing, leaving you with virtually nothing to give to him in return.

This session is nothing new. His ambiguity is still infuriating, but you find yourself grappling with a newer impatience. When it becomes clear that the conversation isn’t going anywhere, you hear yourself speaking. “I thought we promised to be honest with one another.” You wait with bated breath. Hannibal looks tightly coiled, as if ready to strike at any moment. But he remains silent, which pushes you to continue. “You’re still not being honest with me.”

“Very well,” Hannibal nods. You both know it’s true. Hannibal has only spoken of ambiguous urges that nearly consume him. These urges are evidently negative and almost mirror compulsions. However, from what you’ve seen of Hannibal so far, he has finely-regulated emotional control. Is he really a victim to these negative urges, or is he their puppetmaster? Your instincts gravitate towards the latter, but you aren’t prepared for the verbal confirmation he gives you. “I am a serial killer and a cannibal.”

You immediately scrutinize him, looking for the signs you’ve grown to attribute to dishonesty. But there is only unapologetic candor… and an almost boundless hunger. You loathe how quick you are to believe such an outlandish statement. But, in the wake of your captivity, you’ve grown somewhat used to outlandishness. After all, Hannibal went so far as to kidnap you indefinitely—it’s been abundantly clear since you woke in this room that he is not a good person. His thinly-veiled fury has always been present—it is only now that you are able to attribute it to something.

Your gaze is then unwittingly pulled down, past his neatly-ironed suit and to the wooden table before you. You think back to all the meals you’ve been fed and you look back up at him, unable to hide your fear and revulsion. “Have you…?” You’re at a loss for words.

“I have not fed you anything untoward,” Hannibal answers. You’re briefly grateful, before you chastise yourself for the emotion. Why are you grateful to your captor for showing you the smallest of mercies? You are still trapped here. You have been shown the most basic of human decencies: food and water. Privacy and safety are distant memories, at this point.

“You’re a serial killer and a cannibal,” you hear yourself repeat. Your voice sounds foreign and unrecognizable, in the wake of this horrifying revelation. “That’s…” You choke out, entirely unsure of what to say.

Hannibal tries to keep talking, but you place your hands on the table and get to your feet. The chain on your ankle clinks menacingly as you move away from the table and towards the bed. You know better to turn your back on the man, so you instead perform an awkward side-shuffle until you’re seated on the bed. Hannibal finishes his meal in silence and leaves you alone in the basement. You break down soon after.

Each time you blink, you see eyes glazed over in death; limbs stiff and unfeeling; lips parted but unbreathing. Every morning, you’re brutally torn from your sleep and forced to wake up in a nightmare. You are rotting behind these nondescript walls and no one has seemed to notice. What of your family and friends? Where are they now? Is anyone looking for you, or have you been banished to the uncompromising soil and cold headstones in a barren field?

You haven’t caught even a trace of happiness throughout your captivity here. Fear, unease, and desperation have forced you into compliance. There’s a constant burning sensation in your throat and behind your eyes, as you mourn for the tragedies of tomorrow. Your life here is dictated by Hannibal’s whims. And, worst of all, your death is completely inevitable. You have no sense of the passage of time, yet the threat of your end seems to come ever closer with each passing moment.

There are only so many mind games you can subject yourself to before you have to face the grim reality: you are trapped here, and you likely will be trapped here for the remainder of your life. Whether that’s several weeks, eight months, or a few years… You will be confined here until Hannibal grows disinterested. Whatever the source of his interest, one thing is certain: this intrigue persuades him to spare you. But, as patient as Hannibal seems to be, you know it will only be a matter of time before he snaps.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you can hear your own bones cracking and snapping under his grip. Sometimes, in the light of day, you can see bright patrol lights reaching out to you through the screen door, beckoning you back to your life. But none of it is real. Nothing is tangible, save for the chain suffocating your ankle and the fear that keeps you from acting out or attempting to escape again.

In light of Hannibal’s confession, you feel… empty. A part of you is almost hopeful—even desperate—for an end to your confinement. That part of you longs to test the limits of Hannibal’s patience, in the hopes of breaking it and triggering the final chapter of your life.

Safe to say, you aren’t sure what to do with yourself anymore. Everything feels completely pointless. You’re just waking up to fall asleep again the next night; eating to put off the gnawing feeling in your stomach; living to die. Each day simultaneously feels like a victory and a defeat.

One question still begs your attention: why are you here? In your first session, Hannibal had maintained the illusion that he wanted to get better. The same can’t be said anymore: he shows no regret for the things he’s done. There isn’t even a hint of remorse in his answers to your questions, which only confuses you more. He does not want to improve.

One particular morning, you decide to ask him. After all, you have virtually nothing left to lose. You would welcome an escape from this situation—any violence from him would only provide a merciful end to your suffering. “Why are you still entertaining all of this?” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. Hannibal is entirely static as he stares at you, no hint of emotion in his eyes. You can only imagine what he’s thinking. “You don’t want to get better. You show no remorse for your victims. Therapy is conducted under the pretense that the client wants something. As you’re aware, that is often support, self-actualization, or even just someone to listen to them… What do you want?”

“I’m glad I chose you,” Hannibal says, his eyes glimmering.

“You haven’t answered my question,” you frown.

“Company,” he answers.

You study him for a long moment. “Do you feel unsatisfied with your current attachments?” You ask, squinting at him. “You once told me you host dinner parties frequently. You’ve never expressed difficulties with making friends, but you also never speak about the ones you do have.” You wouldn’t be surprised if Hannibal didn’t have any friends—he doesn’t seem the type.

“Perhaps I think them to be beneath me,” he remarks casually.

“Sure,” you say. That sounds about right, but you know things are rarely so simple and straightforward. “But then how do you fulfill your basic interpersonal needs? Are you constantly pretending?” You push.

His silence is enough of an answer. Something ugly stews in your chest. You hate that you’re entertaining this—that you’re even pretending this man is redeemable. Yet what other choice do you have? When it comes down to it, you don’t want to die in this basement. You’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you escape that fate. Even if that means asking questions that you really don’t want the answers to. Somehow, you manage to push the off-putting words from your lips. “How do you choose your victims?”

Hannibal raises his brows, evidently surprised that you asked. He almost looks impressed. The recognition nauseates you: why are you so desperate for his approval? “I exchange business cards with people I meet,” Hannibal responds. That uneasy feeling is only increasing, continuing to prickle along your skin. “The cards of those who are particularly rude… are set aside.”

You force yourself to maintain some semblance of composure, even if you know the effort will be obvious. “And then?” Your voice is deceptively light, despite your pulse practically thrumming with uneasy anticipation. “What pushes you to make a move?”

“Anger,” he answers. His eyes gleam a foreboding crimson in the dim light of the basement. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to stop talking, yet you continue relentlessly.

“No,” you immediately argue before you can stop yourself. “It’s not anger.” Hannibal raises a brow, challenging you to provide a better explanation.

You pause to review everything you’ve learned about Hannibal so far. His secretive, elusive nature suggests that he isn’t killing for attention or pride. Sure, anger could be a motivator, but above that… “It’s boredom,” you realize aloud. “You’re bored. Very little interests you, especially when you have so few genuine relationships. Killing actually makes you feel something—an emotion you’re unable to find elsewhere.”

You’re gripping the arms of your chair hard enough to send bolts of pain sliding through your fingers. One wrong move and he could lash out at you, ending your escape attempt before it can even truly begin. “Try as you might to replicate that feeling… You can’t.”

You’re not sure what reaction you’re expecting. Yet you’re still shocked to see Hannibal smile—a twisted, malicious thing that tears your breath from your chest. You’re immediately overcome with the inexplicable conviction that you’ve just supplied the last nail in your own coffin.

“My whole life, I have been thinking…. thinking… trying to figure myself out so I can help other people understand themselves.” You say some time later, staring up at the ceiling. Your fingers twitch restlessly in the plush brown armchair you find yourself sitting in. The room is warmly lit, with bookshelves lining the walls. Across from you sits your old therapist. “And here I am,” you continue wryly, “Talking to my dead therapist.”

There’s a healthy glow to Charlie’s warm brown skin; he looks entirely at ease. “Why do you think that is?” He asks. Irritation floods through you. Charlie is just a figment of your imagination—a device your mind is using to attempt to cope with the trauma of this situation. But even this manifestation of Charlie is unrelenting, just as he once was.

“Come on, Charlie,” you groan. His expression says, Humor me. You take a slow breath. A thump from upstairs draws you to look up at the ceiling, before you’re returning your eyes to Charlie and the space around him. “Fine. I was kidnapped by a serial killer and I have no chance of escape. No one is going to find me and I’m going to rot down here.”

Speaking on your thoughts ushers in a new sense of finality and it’s greatly unsettling. Charlie, on the other hand, is entirely unaffected. Whether that’s because he’s already dead or simply because he has a firm handle on his emotions, you’re unsure.

You’re not sure how long you spend falling apart on that armchair, nor how long it takes for you to pull yourself back together. All you know is this unfamiliar feeling that tugs you back up above the roaring waves, pushing you to try again when all feels pointless. “I can’t die here,” you announce. The words linger in the air long after you utter them.

“So don’t,” Charlie replies simply.

“I wish it were that easy,” you breathe. Faint traces of voices break you from your reverie and you stare at the basement wall intensely, before abandoning the gesture moments later when nothing happens. You look back at Charlie, whose eyes snap back to you as if he was also distracted by the sound. “Hannibal… He’s too perceptive. It won’t work.” You’re forced to think back to the rapidity with which he disarmed you.

You sense what Charlie’s going to say before he says it. “You don’t know that unless you try.”

“There’s no point,” you sigh frustratedly.

“How long will you perpetuate this cycle?” Charlie asks, a worried frown on his face. “You give yourself hope, only to take it away again. You are the one in control here.”

That’s not true. You’re not in control—Hannibal is the puppet master. But you suppose your therapist is correct, in a sense: your emotions are your own. “Fine,” you acquiesce. “I need to put an end to this. I can’t be trapped down here for the rest of my life. I need to try, at the very least.”

Somehow, the placating smile on Charlie’s face still looks smug. You put it down to your imagination. “What are your options, then?” He questions.

“Well…” You trail off. “I could fashion a weapon out of something in the room. But I’ve been downgraded to plastic silverware since the fork incident…”

“I could also try to reason with him. That definitely wouldn’t work, because he’s already convinced and can’t be persuaded. Hannibal shows no remorse for his actions and he will likely spend the rest of his life killing.”

You find yourself faced with the same troubling conclusion that has provoked your inaction. “I have no power, no authority in this situation.” It doesn’t take long for the reality of the situation to set in once more. “He’s not trying to get better.” Only in the depths of your mind, before your conjured visage of Charlie, does your voice betray the defeat you feel.

“But he brought you here,” Charlie reminds you. You tap your fingers restlessly against the arm of the chair. “He must’ve taken you for a reason, even if it wasn’t for you to help him. What do you think that reason is?” He prompts.

“He’s…” You break off. “He enjoys being in control and exerting authority.” That explanation sounds flimsy, even to you. The truth of the matter is staring you in the face, but you’re too unsettled to acknowledge it.

“You’re grossly underestimating your value,” Charlie hums, perceptive as always. “You are valuable to him.” You’re unwittingly reminded of his gentle touch as he bandaged your palm; the intensity with which he gazes at you (especially when he thinks you don’t notice). You can deny it no longer.

“Somehow, I interest him.” You say. Charlie nods; you’re on the right track. Something pushes you to shake your head and abandon that thought process. Inexplicably, you know you won’t like what you find there if you push any further.

“I need to focus on how to get out of here,” you announce. Charlie arches a brow, but gracefully allows you to change the subject. Yet the unspoken sentiment adds a tension to the air that wasn’t present previously. You both know just how far Hannibal’s intrigue goes, yet you’re not comfortable with addressing it.

“You’ve looked around the room,” Charlie then prompts.

“Many times,” you acquiesce. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to look again. There are two padlocks—one on the bedpost and one on the chain around my ankle. The lock on the chain could be picked with a pin. I doubt he has a pin lying around, but a nail or something like that could work…”

Charlie nods approvingly. You roll your eyes and willingly retreat from your mind palace, returning to the room around you with renewed resolve. That resolve slowly wanes when you don’t find anything in the main room. But when you walk into the bathroom, you realize there’s a landscape painting on the wall. It must be secured with a nail. Surely enough, when you remove it from the wall, a single nail is left behind. It looks bent already, but it’ll have to do. Studying the room, you decide to stuff the painting in the cabinets beneath the sink. You’ve never seen Hannibal use this bathroom and you’ll have to trust that assumption. Hope brews in your chest, but you can’t quite bring yourself to trust it.

When you leave the bathroom and enter the basement, you sit on the bed in silence—waiting for Hannibal to stalk in and thwart your escape attempts. After an immeasurable amount of time spent holding your breath, you manage to convince yourself to work on the padlock around your ankle. The nail you found is rigid and uncompromising, which forces you to exert an unnecessary amount of strength to manipulate it into a suitable shape.

The chain is rattling ever so slightly as you attempt to free yourself from it. Your breathing is extremely loud in your ears and you’re frantically fighting off the growing potential for Hannibal to walk in and catch you in the middle of the act. Your heart is thudding steadily and quickly in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You’ve waited for this chance and you’re not going to blow it. Your fingers calloused and throbbing, you firmly maneuver the nail and the padlock finally pops open. You place it on the bed gently, before shakily taking off the manacle. Your ankle is bruised and irritated, but it’s not broken and you don’t feel too much pain. After a moment, you decide to hide the padlock under the comforter. It doesn’t really matter if you hide it—Hannibal will notice your absence regardless.

You take a deep breath and get off the bed, stealthily walking towards the glass doors at the other side of the room. You’ve been staring through them for so long now, but you were never able to get close enough to open them—let alone see your surroundings. Now, you find that it’s afternoon—as the sun casts a warm glow on the sky. You slide the lock of the door and pull up on the interior pin, before gently sliding it. Of course, the door catches on the track and shudders—but you manage to put it back as quietly as you can.

Your shoes finally meet the pavement and you’re free. You’re actually free.

You take a deep breath of fresh air and survey your surroundings, only to see a never ending expanse of trees on all sides. You’re in the middle of the woods.

Fuck.

You had a clear plan in your mind: escape the house, run down the populated street, and find the nearest approachable stranger to ask for help. The second step of your plan has already failed: there is no street or neighborhood—only forest as far as the eye can see. It takes everything you have not to fall to your knees and cry. Crying won’t do you any good.

At first, you take silent, measured steps away from the house—afraid to make any sound. As the house shrinks in the distance, however, you break into a jog and, eventually, a full-out sprint. You don’t know where you’re going—you just hope to put as much distance between Hannibal and you as possible. (Of course, it’s likely that he knows these woods a lot better than you do. That’s only another reason to prioritize speed over getting your bearings.)

In hindsight, you wish you had attempted to sneak upstairs and steal something from his house: a wallet, a phone, a weapon, anything. But you just couldn’t risk it. Not to mention… you had banked on finding yourself in a cookie-cutter neighborhood, not in the middle of nowhere.

You’re not sure how long you’re running. You don’t stop until your legs threaten to give out. Then, you brace yourself against a tree and try to catch your breath for a few minutes. The pain in your chest fading and your breath restored, you remove your hand from the tree and stand upright—only to see a figure a short distance from you. You squint and try to make it out. For a moment, it’s stationary and you’re fooled into thinking it’s an object. Then it moves, and you’re forced to come to a nauseating conclusion: Hannibal followed you.

“No,” you say. “No, no, no, no.” Your shoe slides back as you step backwards, leaves and sticks crunching under your feet. You’re hardly able to believe your eyes—frozen in fear as Hannibal strides towards you. Your survival instincts don’t kick in until he’s far closer, and you immediately whip around and run.

You don’t get far before he’s tackling you to the ground. The sharp edges of his body press into you and you try to throw him off, bucking underneath him. His grip is insistent and he stares down at you with a blank expression. You manage to pull your knee up far enough to hit him, causing his grip to slacken and giving you an outlet of escape. You shove him off of you and kick at his side, but he manages to maneuver to the side and dodge.

Something at his side catches the light. He’s holding a knife. You’re holding your hands out in front of you, as if that will somehow stop the killer in front of you from making you another victim. With blinding speed, Hannibal is lunging towards you and sinking the knife into your thigh. You scream and manage to push him away, though your attempt at disarming him is futile. You immediately clamp a hand against your bleeding leg, gritting your teeth as stars pass across your vision. Hannibal continues his pursuit, forcing you to stumble backwards.

“Hannibal,” you choke out, your voice thick. You think you taste blood in your mouth—probably from biting the inside of your cheek too hard. There is almost no emotion in Hannibal’s eyes, save for one confusing one: betrayal. Did he expect you to stay? “Please.” What are you begging for? Do you want mercy, or do you want an end to this madness?

Either way, Hannibal extends his hand towards you. You’re shaking, blood dripping from your lip as you stare at him. The gesture is a peace offering of sorts: come willingly, and I won’t hurt you, he’s trying to say. You’re not so easily fooled. You never had a choice.

You still shake your head, a pained whimper wrenching its way out of your lips. You instinctively step backwards. In the blink of an eye, the world is spinning around you and you’re falling to the forest floor. (If a tree falls in a forest with no one to hear it, does it make a sound?) You blink dazedly, your vision slowly blurring. Leaves crunch near your cheek as Hannibal draws ever closer. You try to reach out a hand to resist, but you can only twitch for moments before your eyes are slipping shut.

When you can finally fight off the exhaustion seeping into your form, you blink past dry eyes and stare up at an achingly familiar ceiling. You push yourself up weakly, only to find yourself in Hannibal’s basement once more. There’s a sturdier chain around your ankle, and a new, bulkier padlock securing the chain. All you can hear is your ragged breathing and the awful ringing in your ears. Taking a shuddering breath, you bury your head in your hands.

endnotes: Here's some dialogue I couldn’t find a place for:

“I don’t particularly care.” “That doesn’t sound like you,” Hannibal responds. “You don’t know me,” you feel the need to remind him. “And I haven’t felt like myself in quite some time.”

Hannibal's boujee ass definitely has a state of the art security system in his home… Methinks the reader triggered the alarm system in their escape and it sent Hannibal's phone a notification…

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rxzennia · 5 months ago

Text

selfish atonement

– requested.

✎𓂃 executing your duty perfectly, until it’s not so heavy anymore. less romance, a lot of lore. mandatory shoutout to @st4rrth0ughts and their bodyguard reader & oc. i really searched up oswaldo for this pls enjoy (i tried to cook but i might’ve burnt it y'all)

ever since oswaldo’s expedition on aeragan-epharshel, you’ve become certain of one thing – he is a brilliant businessman; the epitome of a profitable business. regardless of the mostly negative emotions you felt while you undertook missions under his orders, you could at least admit that he brought unparalleled results to the ipc.

but, well, it does not take a good man to make a good businessman.

this marks the third amber era after your departure from the marketing development department… no, your departure from the ipc as a whole. you’ve changed your name, got yourself a new appearance, and distanced yourself from oswaldo’s name.

you’ve since become a sellsword who answers only to your current client

you’ve chosen to not have your loyalty freely auctioned off to the wealthy precisely because of your history with oswaldo

aka, you’re done with the type of problems that can be solved with money, and you don’t want to be someone that can be easily bought with money, either

not in the sense that money won’t make you more likely to take a job, but in the sense that money won’t bribe you away from any ongoing duties

that’s enough about you and your standards

in any case, your history with the ipc (that you’ve manipulated a little) has been very helpful in landing you jobs

and at this point, you’ve got a nice word of mouth going on for you that you don’t need to bring up that history anymore

who would’ve thought that you’d end up in the ipc again?

this time as a temporary guard for one of the ten stonehearts

you don’t know what possessed someone like diamond to ask for you, because you’re pretty sure he knows about your previous involvement with the ipc

and also, what the fuck does the ten stonehearts need a bodyguard for?

you’d pay a million credits to bet that diamond just wanted someone to be surveillance

but hey, a client is a client, so you agree to meet the one you’re supposedly “protecting”

you walk into the room, and immediately you want to walk out. diamond is doing this on purpose, he’s gotta be, he’s got to have done a background check on you and still decided to choose violence.

you come face to face with aventurine, and you thank all the aeons out there that you’ve made the decision to wear a mask whenever you’re out. you don’t know if diamond had briefed him on you or not, but judging by how warily civil he is, it doesn’t seem so.

just so we’re clear, you were far too green to be directly involved when oswaldo launched his sigonia-iv project. while you did tag along on these trips and treaty signings, you have no personal involvement there except standing there like a statue and watching your superiors hammer out a treaty or something. unlike in aeragan-epharshel. where you were one of the combat pilots. oh, that’s another can of worms altogether.

at least he can’t see your expression right now as you shake hands

at least he doesn't hear your erratically beating heart

you introduce yourselves, and you bow out of habit

impression points +100 (your starting score is -10000)

that’s basically how you ended up involved with the ipc again

ugh, you just can’t leave them in the past, can you?

although, in your defense, they’re everywhere, and you can’t possibly turn down a job with such luxurious pay

so, now, instead of the marketing development department, you’re in the strategic investment department. diamond is also a good businessman, but… the ten stonehearts have such a weird dynamic. they’re all tangled together with office politics, yet share one authority figure that they ultimately obey – something you haven’t bothered to think about when you were last in the ipc. and something you won’t bother thinking about, because the mere thought of corporate makes you want to dig yourself into a hole.

in any case, your constant meddling in aventurine’s daily affairs begins today. he’s quite a guarded man, and you have no idea what diamond wants you to do by putting you next to him practically 24/7, but oh well, you’re getting paid.

you settle into a routine surprisingly quickly, and he doesn’t seem to mind your presence all that much

alarmed? yes. mildly annoyed that diamond put a walking tracker on him? also yes.

dislike your presence? kinda (not really).

at least he knows you won’t betray him for as long as your contract is in effect

even if you answer directly to diamond, you were tasked to watch over him

which means that you will execute your assigned duty to guard him and strictly only that duty

(truly, your reputation precedes you)

but what is worrying is how swiftly you can change sides the moment your contract expires

well, a problem for tomorrow. diamond’s got you leashed for a year.

he does run a background check on you himself

not that he doesn’t trust that diamond hadn’t vetted you, he just wants to know what sort of person he is now stuck with

guess who found out your name is probably fake but can’t find your real name

because he could only trace your name so far, and anything beyond that point is blank

the discoveries will shock you!! top 10 most scary facts you didn’t know

all he got was a full report from your first job to this one

anything about your past before your current alias is completely untraceable

not that he intends to ask anyway; you haven’t given him any reason to dig further (yet)

he keeps an eye out for you though

even if he’s not suspicious of you at the moment, that could change in the blink of an eye

aventurine is surprised at how loyal you are to him. you’re under diamond’s orders, but you’re surprisingly putting in a lot to protect him. and to look after him.

to you, it’s just your job… and a selfish, twisted sort of repentance. it’s a thought you intend to take with you to the grave.

you’re not obligated to wake him up or bring him breakfast, but you do anyway

which, he realizes that you must’ve woken up like at least two hours before him

you coordinate his schedule with his assistant so that he doesn’t make pointless trips to five different locations just to end up at the same one twice

you, quite literally, hover over him

yes, even at huge conferences, you’re tailing him like his shadow

some kinda scary dog privilege going on

but of course, you give him space whenever he requires it and keep him within your sights instead

so far so good

but you know what spooks him still?

that you get pissed when someone makes any nasty passing remark at him

no, you are not a feral street cat that scratches anyone who wrongs you (him)

what you do is you give them a scary confrontation

or you pick them out and lodge a complaint with their superiors afterwards, if they aren’t the top dog

one time he got his hands on a report that you’re writing

aeons, you blow it out of proportion without lying

you like to call it a suitable amount of embellishing

then you pull a lot of emotional appealing according to the opponents' company policy

which usually results in some sort of disciplinary action that is actually pretty satisfying to see

but also

damn, you’re merciless

and also very adept at business talk

trust +100, doubt +25

(shady mercenary for hire with far too much experience type doubt)

you’re as good of a bodyguard as aventurine can get, especially for someone he didn’t hire himself…

he quite likes you, actually! because how many people do you think asked him something like “why do you need a bodyguard” to his face? none! you’re as entertaining as they come.

and so he finds joy in his boring executive work by pestering you

you know that, but you put up with him

in fact, this guy is so one of a kind that you don’t even feel pestered

you sometimes even drink with him

whenever he offers, of course, because you’re not too interested in drinking

you drink moderately on the job, but c’mon, when are you not on the job

okay, maybe when he’s just chilling in his office or in the hotel and not going anywhere

then there’s competitive drinking where he tries to coax you into talking about yourself by making you down shots

and guess who’s wasted every time? not you

“mr aventurine?” you ask, nudging the unconscious man next to you. “sir? earth to mr aventurine? hello?”

his empty glass of whiskey on the table, his face slightly flushed as he snoozes away on the table… yeah, it does not look comfy at all.

you sigh, he’s giving you more work again, and you carefully hoist him from the table.

when he comes to again, he finds himself in his own room

his head hurts so much

he notices that he hasn’t changed from his usual attire – only his coat and accessories are taken off

okay, and the top button of his shirt is undone

did you bring him back?

as always, you don’t even bother to change him

he sighs, you’re really not very good at reading signs

because he’s done this multiple times! and he’s whined about not being changed after!

more like you did notice but you choose not to do what he wants

that’s crossing a line in your books

and your books is something you stick to like you’re obsessed

at least you left him water and hangover medicine on the nightstand

why does he feel like you’re deliberately keeping him at arm’s length?

it’s been a while and you two have spent so much time together, yet you’re still a stranger to him

not even acquaintances

like… like, you don’t initiate conversation when you’re watching him

both when he’s going somewhere (requires actual protecting) and chilling at home (does not require actual protecting)

and even after so many late night drinking sessions, he still hasn’t seen you without your mask

mainly because you’ve never been drunk enough for him to sneak a peek, but still

aventurine doesn’t know how to express affection. platonically, romantically, in general, pretty much. so he tries to do the one thing he does best, splurging. and he tries to splurge on you, because he’s intrigued and wants to make buy a friend, but…

but you don’t let him splurge on you! you don’t even let him give you gifts! he only knows how to win affection by spending money on others!

sometimes he feels like you stick too strictly to your duties

just like his other subordinates… you take orders far too well

he’s tried to give you trinkets, designer clothes, even limited snacks

all of which were returned to him within 24 hours

though, with the snacks, you take it if he offers you a piece or two when he’s already opened it

and you let him treat you to coffee occasionally. very occasionally.

he eventually figures out that it’s a matter of principles

but what principles, exactly? you’re a sellsword, for aeon’s sake

he thought those are the people who have absolutely no principles???

anyway, won’t stop him from trying

“mr aventurine…” you pinch the bridge of your nose as you see the bags stacked on your desk. “i remember telling you that souvenirs are unnecessary.”

“what’s wrong with them?” aventurine laments dramatically. “i’ve picked out only the finest for you!”

you don’t deserve it, you think, but you don’t say that, of course

you don’t even know of his lifelong grudge towards oswaldo

you just know that you had a hand in the extinction event

not like hand hand, but you watched it happen… it doesn’t sit well with you

besides, you have the blood of almost an entire civilization on your hands

if you think too hard about it, the image of flames and carnage overlap with what is in front of you

then, you envision the records of sigonia that you’ve read through in the past

and everything blurs together, your actions, your inaction, and your unwavering loyalty that led you to not raise a single question at all

you squeeze your eyes shut tightly and purge the images from your mind

you are currently here, in the present

“i can’t take them.” you reply, finally, shaking your head. “it’s inappropriate for our standing. especially since there’s no reason for you to be gifting me so many things out of nowhere.”

“what, i can’t be nice to my bodyguard?” aventurine pouts as he sorts the bags in height order. “i’ve got a limited edition tie, an antique phonograph, a discontinued mug, some rare natural color ink for your fountain pen, a pure cashmere sweater–”

“that’s… that’s enough, sir.” you raise a hand to cut him off. “i don’t think i can accept any of them, really.”

aventurine makes a face, then pulls out a bag from the end of the queue. “fine, fine. what about this, at least? assorted cookies from an artisan bakery, using only the best ingredients sourced from all over the cosmos?”

you stare at that bag as you feel the expectant stare from your boss

maybe… maybe one out of these dozens of bags is fine

you’ve gotta think about his feelings too, after you’ve rejected so many gifts

you reluctantly, carefully take the bag and say a small “thank you”

you don’t want his fascination with you to develop any more than what he’s already showing…

but you also know that it’s not up to you

so what is up to you is drawing a line that you won’t allow him to cross

for his sake, and for your own…

if he keeps pushing, you should keep pushing back

keyword should

but can you?

aeons, you truly are selfish

wouldn’t it have been better to keep everything professional from the very beginning?

it’s okay. you only have a little more than half a year to go before you’re no longer obligated to be here. you’ll run away before aventurine catches on, like how you ran away from your past.

it’s okay. it’s just been a few months, there’s still more than half a year’s worth of time. before you part ways, there are still chances to get to know you better. perhaps even time to become friends, in the most literal sense of the word.

and maybe by the end of it, “you” will reach a satisfactory conclusion.

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares on demand

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islandofsages · 10 months ago

Note

Hey ! Can I ask for a male!reader that is a 4th or 3rd year at the NRC (in the dorm you want), and Yuu, Grim and Ortho after seeing him just decided to adopt him like their father ?

The reader is the definition of a good father, and Yuu, Grim and Ortho made him sign the adoption contract (give by Azul).

(Maybe the reader can be the boyfriend of Idia ?)

I just want a reverse adoption with Grim, Yuu and Ortho bc they need a good father.

characters: ortho, yuu and grim with fourth year male reader

tags: platonic, fluff, fic format

warnings: none

author's notes: sorry i didnt do the characters separately, i think they would have similar reactions. also reader isnt with idia bc im keeping this blog fairly romance-free :) thank you for giving me an excuse to write fourth year reader tho, the concept is so interesting and fun to explore!! and hes not in any specific dorm, wanted to keep it ambiguous hehe. honestly this whole thing was my own spin so word count: 974 words

You haven't gone back to NRC in a while. Despite the absolute chaos that goes on way more than often in that school, you’ve grown to harbor fondness for that familiarity. Luckily, you're due for a report of the progress of your internship. Instead of merely sending an email to your professor, you’ll go meet up with him yourself and check up on your underclassmen (maybe even get to know the freshmen) in the meantime.

You are just one of the many seniors of NRC but you found that your dorm members are quite fond of you for whatever reason. So when you come back for that short time period, a few of them come to greet you and catch up with you. Apparently, the abandoned dorm is now occupied by not one but two new students. You didn't even know there was an abandoned dorm!

“One of them can't even use magic and came from a different universe or something? And one of them is literally a magical monster! The school totally got weirder when you left, (Y/N),” one of your dorm members explains. You try to imagine it in your head. Yeah, no, if nobody told you that’s exactly what happened, you wouldn’t have known. You only believe the dorm member because you trust them enough.

“Oh, and remember Idia? The one with the robot brother? He’s a housewarden now. And his brother's a student now. He's an actual freshman,” more gossip makes their way to you. Your eyes widen at the news. You feel like you may remember them, the Shroud brothers - you could tell Idia was trying really hard to stay on the down low so you did him a favor and left him alone for the most part.

You don’t stay at your dorm for very long - you did come to NRC for a reason - and that was to send in that report of yours. Though you already dropped it off before checking up on your underclassmen, you plan just walking around school and taking in the sights that were once so familiar to you. And you haven’t even really graduated yet.

You walk down the hallways and say hi to whoever you recognize, basking in that comfortable familiarity. Some friendlier students stop to chat with you and to be perfectly honest, you feel a little old compared to everyone. You don’t mind but what’s rubbing it in is how some of the students are calling you “Dad” to tease you. You know they’re being playful for the most part but you can’t help but feel a little awkward with the nickname.

Then you run into those three.

You recognize the younger Shroud brother - hard not to with his flames for hair - but you can only guess the other two are the new students occupying that abandoned dorm; one’s uniform seems foreign and the other is not even remotely humanoid. They're definitely eye-catching, especially together. And apparently, you're pretty eye-catching too, with the way they lay their eyes on you while you were talking to another student.

The younger Shroud brother leads the group as they make their way to you excitedly. You're already preparing yourself for what you assume is a normal conversation with these kids. Too bad normal is the wrong thing to expect from these three, you will come to know.

“(Y/N)! You’re back at school!” The younger Shroud - Ortho, that’s his name - exclaims as he flies slightly upwards, happy to see you again. The other two look at you curiously, head tilted to the side and all. You offer them a jolly laugh as you tell the other two who you are and update all of them of how your internship is going. They’re eerily silent when you’re relaying your story but you appreciate not being interrupted. ‘What polite freshmen,’ you thought.

Until they aren’t, because they interrupt you with-

“Can you adopt us?!”

Their eyes twinkle as they clasp their hands together and gaze at you with their best puppy-eye look. Oh, they’re being genuine. This is escalating way too quickly - the nickname was weird enough, you’re not sure what to feel about a bunch of age-ambiguous freshmen wanting a fellow (though presumably older) student to adopt them. You sigh and put on your best smile so as to not disappoint them.

Truth be told, it really isn’t as bad or weird as it sounds. People were already teasing you about it so might as well run along with it. But still. Legally adopting these freshmen would still be too much for you to handle. After all, you’re still going to be preoccupied with your internship. You won’t be present for most of their school years and the last thing you want to be is a father who forgot to bring the milk back home.

You tell them you will think about it, in case they were actually joking and you’re somehow dumb enough to not catch on. They agree to allow you to take your time… but then they start muttering about “getting a contract from Azul” and you immediately step in to stop them from taking any drastic measures.

After that whole ordeal, you leave school more exhausted than you thought you would be. After all, three freshmen literally asked you to become their father and adopt them and were about to get you to agree to some contract. But then, you find out, they turn out to be the best children you’ve ever had.

They can be a handful, sure - Ortho is way too curious for his own good sometimes, Grim can’t sit still and picks fights with people often, and Yuu is… Yuu. Being a single father is definitely not the easiest thing to do with them as your children.

Yet you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #platonic twst x reader #platonic twisted wonderland x reader #twst x male reader #twisted wonderland x male reader #ortho shroud #ortho shroud x reader #yuu twst #grim twst

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ghosty-writes-23 · 7 months ago

Text

A 'Helping' Hand. - Leon S Kennedy.

!TAGS!: Boyfriend!Leon, Sweet fluff, Morning Cuddles, NSFW Content, Switch!Leon, Body Worship, Praise, Eating Out, Blowjob, Riding, Aftercare.

Pairing: Emo!Boy!Leon + Tattoo!Store!Onwer!Fem!Reader.

Rating: Mature.

Summary: Your sweet boyfriend decides to come and help you at work, but one thing leads to another.

Word Count: 3.9k

Ghosty's Notes: Hi, I’m sorry this post is late, I have been really busy with my course and just finished a 1000-word case study and I’m due to submit a 2200 essay by may and I haven’t even started yet, so I am really sorry I haven’t been updating lately. But I finally posted something, and I plan on posting something short with RE2:R!Leon in a couple of days.

Side note: All the songs mentioned in this one-shot are from 2005 :)

Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty❤️

----------

18+ Content // Minors DO NOT Interact // 18+ Content.

Last night you had received a text from one of your working tattoo artists, that the monthly shipment had arrived at closing time and been brought into the store preventing it from getting stolen, you had sent her a thank you text and told your artist group chat to take the day off, which a few of your younger artists where grateful for because it gave them a chance to catch up on their university studies and you knew some of your other artists had small children as well.

You were happy to give them the day off because it meant that you can restock your tattoo studio in peace because you like things in a certain order.

Hearing the faint tune of Bat Country by Avenged Sevenfold starting to play, sucking in a soft breath you started to stir and felt your boyfriends arm tighten around your waist under the slipknot shirt of his you were wearing, you could hear him softly humming to the song causing you to smile softly even in your sleepy state.

“I have to go in today.” You say as you felt Leon nuzzling into your neck, his snakebite piercing gazing the soft skin of your neck, his nose ring also gently bumping against your neck as well. “5 more minutes.” He deep voice rumbled; his voice was always deeper when he first woke up in the morning.

Reaching over you grabbed your phone and finally turned off your phone alarm before placing it back on your bedside table. “I really have to go.” You playfully argued with him as you knew what the time was, the quicker you got it done the faster you could come home.

“you’re abandoning your boyfriend on his day off work.” Leon pouted as you slipped out from his grasp and comfort of your shared warm bed, you playfully rolled her eyes before she leaned over and gently pushed back his messy dark blonde bed hair and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry I’m such a horrible girlfriend.” You say with a playful grin before you moved away and headed to your shared bathroom to do your morning routine.

You brushed your teeth and hair, took your morning medication, standing in the bathroom with a towel wrapped around your freshly cleaned body you did your morning skincare routine, not bothering doing a whole face of makeup, just some concealer, setting powder, mascara, eyeliner and lip balm today since you weren’t seeing clients today and it was too much work in the morning. As you where applying your lip balm you felt Leons arms wrap around your waist.

Looking up at him through the mirror, you could see his messy dark blonde hair was sticking up in all directions, his sweatpants hanging low on his lips, you could see the matching my chemical romance tattoo, it was of the album three cheers for sweet revenge done in the lovers tarot card design, the tattoo was placed on both of your forearms just above your wrists, you had designed the tattoos at Leon’s request.

you could caught a glimpse of Leon’s nose piercing and crooked helix piercing that he pierced himself when you two first started dating, because he wanted to impress you with his piercing ‘skills’ but he ended up at the hospital later that night because his ear swelled up and he was into much pain to drive himself, you always tease him and tell him you count that as your guys first date.

“you didn’t need to get out of bed.” You say applying your lip balm, your eyes were focused on your reflection in the mirror. “I’m come with you.” He says placing a gentle kiss on you neck as he slid his arm around your towel covered waist.

You could see the little tattoos that decorated his arm, some he had before you guys meet and others you had done or covered up. “you don’t have too, it will be boring at the studio today, sleep in today.” You tell him but he shakes his head before he leaned down and softly kisses you.

“Wanna spend time with you.” He says before pulling away as he starts his morning routine of brushing his teeth and then showering, going back into your shared bedroom you decided to wear some leggings, a crop top and Leon’s Metallica hoodie you brought him last year when you went to the concert in your city for your 4-year anniversary.

As you gathered your things you would need for the day Leon came out of the bathroom wearing black ripped skinny jeans and nirvana shirt, his hair had been pushed off his head he looked fully awake now.

“Princess don’t you own your own hoodies.” Leon says with a playful tease that makes you roll your eyes roll slightly. “it’s not your hoodie it’s our hoodie.” You say grinning causing him to roll his eyes as he pulled you into him by your waist.

“you’re lucky your cute.” He mumbles before he kisses you softly the metal rings of his lip piercings pressing into your lips, you kissed him back as you wrapped your arms around his neck and went on your tippy toes.

The kiss was slow and gentle making your body feel all warm and fuzzy, his kisses always left you breathless and wanting more, but when you felt his tongue piercing graze over your bottom lip you knew you needed to pull away.

“later.” You mumble against his lips before pulling away and grabbing your bag, you could see Leon smiling out the corner of your eye as he grabs his phone and anything else he would need for today.

“I’ll drop you off at the tattoo studio, then go and get coffee for the both of us.” Leon tells you as you both walk out of your shared bedroom and downstairs, you grabbed you bag while Leon grabbed his car keys.

He drove an army green jeep that he had for as long as you have known him, it wasn’t that you didn’t have a license you did, but it was cheaper for you letting your boyfriend drive you everywhere.

Once you both where out the front door of your apartment you locked the front door then nuzzled into Leon’s arm as he linked your fingers together in his fingerless gloved hand, then you both headed outside into the cold winter morning.

*Skip Car Ride*

Leon had dropped you off at your studio before he went to your favourite café to get you a hot drink for the cold morning, it always warmed your heart with all the little things your boyfriend does for you, it makes you really appreciate him and want to do the same for him in return.

Unlocking the door to your studio you walked inside and flicked on the lights seeing all the boxes in the front, you knew this was going to take a while but you didn’t mind.

Placing your bag and keys in your tattooing area, you went and turned on the heaters and the stereo so there was some music playing so it wasn’t completely quiet, grabbing your list you went to make sure you had everything you ordered before you started to pack it away, because last time there where a few things missing from your monthly order.

20 minutes into checking everything you heard the front door open and the familiar sound of Leon’s voice as he curses under his breath at the cold weather, as he shook some snow off his hair as he held a tray of hot drinks. You placed your list down and smiled softly walking over to him.

“thank you.” You say as you took the hot drink from the tray, you could smell the chocolate and coffee before you took your first sip, a soft hum leaving your lips. “how is the restock going?” Leon asks as he sips his own drink, he followed you into your tattooing area where most of the boxes were.

“So far we have everything on the list, which is good I just have a couple more boxes to check then I can start packing everything away.” You say as you set your drink down and grabbed your list again.

“why don’t you check those boxes and I’ll start packing things away.” Leon suggests as he came and rested his head on your shoulder, his eyes glancing over the list of items. “I can do it myself, it your day off work.” You say to him slightly stubbornly.

Leon works as a music store manager that sold CD’s, record and music instruments, his boss liked him a lot and let Leon be flexible with his hours, when he wasn’t working at the music store he was helping you out in the tattoo studio, either packing things away or being on the front desk.

“I know but I like to help.” Leon says as he placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, smiling softly at his small affection, it always warmed your heart when Leon helped you out even if it was with something small. “okay, thank you.” You say giving him a quick kiss on his cheek before he went to start packing things away.

*Sometime Later*

After finally packing all your shipped supplies away correctly, you found yourself pinned against the wall with Leon’s hands holding your wrists above your head as he kissed you sweetly but need, his pierced tongue tangling with yours causing sweet moans to leave your lips. You couldn’t focus on anything else other than the touch of your boyfriends, which was causing your mind to race and your heart to beat out of your chest, feeling him pull away slightly a soft whine left your lips causing him to chuckle slightly.

“Somebody is a little eager.” Leon softly teases you eve when his blue eyes held the look of lust, want, need and desire, you could also see the warmth, affection and love, feeling his thumb and index finger softly grab your chin and pulled your face back to his kissing your slightly swollen and bruised lips, with his free hand he used it to unzip his Metallica hoodie you were wearing.

It slipped off your shoulders and down your arms with ease, falling onto the floor behind you. Breaking the kiss Leon let go of your wrists and tugged off his nirvana shirt and tossed it onto the ground beside him. “somebody’s eagerly.” You playfully tease him back causing a smile on his pierced lips, because you knew you were both as needy as each other in this moment. “only for you princess.” He says slyly as he lifted your crop off your body leaving you in just your bra and leggings.

“such a romantic.” You say with a smile as you bit your bottom lip, you could feel his pierced lips on your neck as he was leaving a soft trail of kisses on your skin, you knew there would be marks left there but at this moment you didn’t care. His kisses trailed from your jawline to your neck, to your shoulder, your collarbones then to your chest to where he started kissing lower as he sunk down on his knees in front of you, placing gentle open mouth kisses on your stomach as his fingers toyed with the waist band of your leggings.

You knew when Leon went down on you it wasn’t for your pleasure but for his own, he could do it for hours if you would let him, he always leaves you overstimulated, trembling and a mess but deep down you love it. Your fingers found there way to his dark blonde hair, it was soft and slightly damp from his shower this morning, he gave you a small grin as he placed a kiss over your slick core over your leggings making a slight blush come onto your cheeks, before he gently tugged them down.

“No panties, dirty girl.” Leon clicks his tongue, but you saw his tongue wet the bottom of his lip, you had decided to not wear panties today because it was more comfortable going commando in some leggings than it was in others, and it wasn’t like you were seeing clients today.

You could hear his tongue piercing hitting the metal of his lip rings as he admired your glistening pussy. Leon leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on your clit, making a soft moan leave your lips before you spread your legs a little to give him better access, he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, his large hand supporting your thigh before his blue eyes meet yours again.

It was almost as if he was asking for permission before he touched you in any intimate way which made your heart race even more, you nodded your head trying to back the smile threatening to fall from your lips, before he dived in and feasted on your soaked core as if he was a starved man and this was his last meal, causing soft moans to leave your lips as you buck your hips slightly.

His tongue lapped at your folds, his eyes were closed in pure bliss as if he was lost in his own little world, you could feel the cool feeling of his tongue piercing jewelry and eve his lip rings grazing your soaked pussy, you could hear him humming and even grunting as he slurped softly. Reaching a hand down you gently pushed his dark blonde hair out of his face, you could see a faint blush on his cheeks as he pulled away slightly breathing heavily.

Just as you were about to ask him what he was doing, but he used his index finger and his middle finger to spread your folds. “beautiful.” He commented before he leaned forward and sucked on your clit causing a soft cry to leave your lips as a tremble ran through your body,

“Fuck Leon.” You cursed throwing your head back against the wall, as you rocked your hips against his face, he didn’t even need to use his fingers to make you cum, he knew your body like the back of his hand. You could feel the familiar feeling tightening in your stomach as your eyes rolled back slightly, your thighs began to tremble more as your moans became more whinner and slightly high pitched.

“cum for me princess.” He says against your soaked core, you could feel yourself clenching around nothing. “cumming.” You softly moaned as you came with a soft whine on your boyfriends tounge, feeling your legs get weak but Leon's hand came up to your hips as he helped steady you.

After riding out your orgasm you pulled him down to you and kissed him deeply, your tongue tangle with his you could taste yourself, but you didn’t care.

Breaking the kiss, he looked down at you breathing heavily there was a small grin on his face, but you could see the lust swimming in his blue eyes. “my turn.” You tell him before he could protest you sunk down to your knees, you could see the bulge in his skinny jeans, reaching up you undid his belt and unzipped and unbuttoned the front before tugging his jeans down his thighs.

You could see the small wet patch of pre-cum on his boxers, looking up you could see his cheeks burning slightly, causing a sense of power to wash over you are knowing you’re the only one that can make Leon feel like this. You looked up at him in your eyes asking for permission like he had done for you, he gave you a nod as his hand found its way to your hair to make a makeshift ponytail, to keep your hair out of your face and eyes.

You carefully hooked your fingers into his boxers before tugging them down, causing Leon’s harden cock to spring free, a soft groan leaving his lips at the cold air hit him.

Giving him a soft smile you ran your tongue up the side of his cock before you wrapped your pillowy lips around him and began to bob your head at a steady rhythm, while placing your thighs on his thighs for some stability, he was heavy on your tounge, but the weight always brought you a sense of comfort.

“good girl.” Leon praised you making a soft blush to come onto your face as you bobbed your head, he would occasionally hit the back of your throat. “feels so good.” He grunted but you would hear a high pitch whine leave his throat. You decided to suck your cheeks in causing a soft cry to leave his lips as he slightly bucked his hips as well. “your mouth should be a sin.” He softly panted his hand slightly tighten around your hair causing you to groan softly around him.

“You close baby.” You asked pulling away but you used your hands to pump his cock, you knew he was close he was twitching in your hands, he nodded his head quickly as a soft cry left his lips, taking his cock back into your mouth you pushed him as far as you could in your throat, causing small tears to run down your cheeks as there is a slight pain in your jaw, but you ignore the pain to give your boyfriend the same pleasure he gave you.

“Fuck I’m cumming.” He moaned before you felt him shoot down your throat, a soft moaning sound left your lips before you sucked in your cheeks as you slowly pulled away from him and released him with a soft pop.

He was breathing heavily with a blush on his face, Taking his hand you lead Leon could of the small supply closet to your more spacious studio area, where you gently pushed him onto the couch and straddles his waist.

His large hands immediately found their way to your hips giving them a loving squeeze, reaching to your bag on the end of the couch, you pulled out a familiar square. But ask you where about to open it Leon took it from you. “Let me.” He says taking the condom packet from you and tearing it open with his teeth,

After couple minutes of awkward moving and some giggling from you, Leon finally got the condom on without your assistants, he took his harden cock and gave your soaked core a few taps causing you to moan soft, He had applied some lube before just as a safety precaution because he didn’t want to hurt you, even if you insisted that you would be ok, he didn’t want to hurt his precious girlfriend.

“am I good to go doll?” Leon asked you as he gave your hips a soft squeeze, it always filled your heart with so much joy when Leon asked for permission for anything like this, you nodded your head biting your lip, you could see him grinning before he slowly pushed into your glistening core causing a moan to leave both of your lips at the familiar stretch as Leon buried himself fully inside you.

Wrapped your arms around his neck and rested your head on his shoulder, a soft tremble ran through your body as one of his hands stayed on your hips to help guide your movements while the other went to back of your neck keeping your body close to his. “feel so good princess.” Leon grunted against you; his voice was deeper than normal causing you to clench around him as his thrusted up his hips.

You moved your hips slightly meeting his thrusts, moans falling from both your lips as you both lost yourselves in the pleasure of pleasing each other, your hips moving in time with his, he filled you up in way you only dreamed your fingers could reach when he wasn’t around, it was like you were made for each other. “Leon.” You moaned his name as you felt as if your mind was getting foggy and hazy from the pleasure you were both experiencing.

You moaned out loud as you rested your forehead against his, your eyes where closed and your bottom lip in between you top row of teeth, Leon’s thrusts where sweet but hard causing soft squeals to leave your throat, when suddenly you are pushed into the couch it was soft against your bare skin and your legs where now on Leon’s shoulder, but before you could protest a loud moan left your lips at the new angle, causing Leon to go deeper.

You could feel yourself tightening around him and your eyes rolling back slightly, he always knew how to drive you wild, weather it was when he would let you do anything you wanted to him, or even he was rough like this knowing deep down no matter what side it was you loved this man with all your heart even when he tells you stupid jokes from time to time.

“You close Y/n?” Leon grunted and all you could do was nod your head as you looked up at him, your thighs where trembling against him as your toes curled, at this point you knew your making up from this morning was running down your cheeks, but you didn’t care.

“cum for me like a good girl.” Leon says as he leaned forward and kissed you as he thrusts into you roughly but somehow sweetly, your moans are muffled by his lips but you cum around him with a soft cry, his praise sending a shiver down your spine, he soon followed spilling into the condom.

As you came down from both your high’s Leon pressed his forehead against yours. “I love you.” He whispers softly with a gentle smile; you smile up at him and softly kissing his nose.

“I love you to.” You said with a bliss filled smiled but soon the romance and sweet moment is ruined when you hear somebody clear their throat, looking over Leon’s shoulder you saw Jennifer one of your best friends and tattoo artists looking at the both of you with a smug grin on her face as she leaned against the door.

“I’m happy you guys have such a deep love for each other, but next time you decided to fuck at work can you please close the door, because I don’t need to see my boss getting screwed by her boyfriend at 11 o’clock in the morning.” Jennifer's says causing a blush to colour both yours and Leon's cheeks at her comments.

“Sorry Jen.” You say with a soft giggle, but she gave you a wink before she pushes herself off the door. “I’ll be expecting a bonus next week.” She jokes as she gives you one last look before she leaves.

Hearing her leave both you and Leon couldn’t help but laugh. “this is your fault.” You softly poked Leon’s chest causing him to laugh slightly.

“fine I’ll take responsibility this time, but next time I won’t be so nice.” He says pulling you into his chest as he pulls a blanket over you both that is usually kept on the end of the couch for when you take naps at work.

“I look forward to it.” You smirked before nuzzling into his chest, he just laughed and rested his chin on your head as you both fell into a peaceful slumber…

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!Good Enough One-shot Update!: Its coming I have only recent had the time to start it but the ball is rolling finally, I can’t give a time when it will be posted but I am working on it when I have spare time, also there will be a name change but deciding on the name now and creating the banner.

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2024. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

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𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐓.

DAY FIVE OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: animal shapeshifter au + "you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

pairing: animal shapeshifter!pero tovar x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, romance, cottagecore, fantasy au

summary: you decide to take a swim in a lake that is deep in the middle of the forest. during your swim, pero finds you, and he's not happy that you went out alone during a full moon.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: breeding, marking, biting, does this count as monsterfucking if he's just human with wings and two cocks, pero has two cocks, despite the warnings this is actually quite soft, double penetration, praise kink, soft!dom pero, possessive!pero, creampie

a/n: during this i learned that some bird species have two cocks. you're welcome for this information and thank you for voting in the poll dfvdfvf (also i didn't edit this so sorry about that ily all)

The moonlight beckons you. It always has and always will. You watch as the water effortlessly brings the white light pouring from above with gentle waves kissed by the calm breeze. That same breeze rustles the leaves of dark trees. You’re not afraid of the darkness anymore. Haven’t been since you moved out from your family home, away from those who want to stifle you and silence you.

Your steps are soft as you near the lake, the ends of your dress brushing the grass. You feel a predatory gaze taking in the sight of you, he’s in the shadows, enjoying the show.

Your grumpy companion, if you will.

Slowly, you drag the back of your hands up your waist and trace the pads of your fingers over the sweetheart neckline of your bodice. You lower them, feeling the rich ribbons holding the entire dress together.

With one swift movement, you pull one thread and the rest comes down, pooling at your feet.

You enter the lake, it’s cold but not cold enough that you’d want to jump out. You exhale a shaky breath and swim deeper, turning in the water, you observe the full moon.

A rustling fills the silence. And feather-like steps are heard. Your feet sway underwater as you float upright. What captures your gaze first are a set of deep brown eyes that are too human to belong to a beast.

Then you notice the fur, the pointed nose, and the snarl that shows white pointy teeth. The beast steps closer, paws large enough to cover your entire face. You swim close to the edge of the lake, your feet move against the thickness of water, you want to place your arms over the ground to brace yourself but decide against it. He’s angry, you can feel it, you just don’t know why yet.

He stops at the edge you refuse to brace yourself against and leans down, his wide nuzzle an inch away. He inhales and exhales deeply, the force of his breath nearly drying your skin. He still bares his teeth towards you and you notice the faint traces of blood over his dark fur.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growls, the deep voice echoing in your head. “It’s the full moon it’s dangerous.”

“There are no people here.”

His tongue darts out to move over his teeth, eyes watching you carefully, “It is not the people I fear, little soul.”

With a sudden need to be close to him, you bury your fingers into the thick neck of the beast and urge him to come closer until your forehead is pressed firmly against his. He doesn’t close his eyes but you do. He’s incredibly warm; a faint scent of lavender and blood clings to his skin.

“Join me,” you murmur. He watches you curiously for a moment before nodding and taking a step back. You revel in watching his transformations. His eyes finally flutter closed, a dark purple mist surrounding him, he lets out an audible breath.

You first see the wings; dark and lush, they spread to his sides before folding back.

Then you see the rest of him. Sunkissed skin, broad chest, and a stomach that has gotten rounder ever since he met you—a sign of a life with balance. Even though you have them memorized, your eyes dart over every faint scar that is scattered all around his torso. You love them. Tracing your tongue over every since one, the lightened patches of skin reminding you of stars.

Pero steps forward, naked as the day he was born, soft cock hanging between strong thighs, he approaches the lake. And you.

“I am still mad,” he grumbles, his accent thicker now that he’s using his actual voice. “You did not tell me you were going to come here.”

“I knew you would find me.”

He doesn’t say anything and slowly submerges into the water, his wings follow him in the water like a mermaid's tail. You frown when he turns his back, his back tense and shoulders raised, you come closer and begin to cup water and release it over his wings. A shudder crawls up his spine, the delicate limbs playfully twitching despite his anger.

“Just because I did not kill you the first time—”

“Or the second.”

He grunts, “Or the second—”

“Or the third.”

“¡Suficiente!” his wings raise higher and he turns viciously, the same anger you saw in him as a wolf returning full force. “This is not a game. There are creatures out there that won’t hesitate to rip you shred to shred.”

Pero forces you to swim until your back hits the shore, the lake’s depth surpasses you both, yet he manages to towards over you.

“Pero. . .”

“You do not know what is out there but I do,” he snarls. “I am one of them.”

He places a hand over your chest, blunt nails biting into the skin right above your heart. The curve of his nose brushes against yours. Underwater, you feel the heft of his cock pressed against your stomach, it takes you everything not to moan and rub yourself against him like a dog in heat.

“What you don’t understand,” he hisses, voice dangerously low. “This heart belongs to me now—Not yours, fucking mine.”

He pins your hips together, knocking the air from your lungs, your jaw drops and all you can do is stare. Instinctively, you legs press together, the lack of motion threatening to pull you under the moonlit lake. Pero doesn’t allow it, however, both his hands drop to your waist, keeping your head barely above the surface.

You feel the brush of his lips on your cheek.

“That muscle that pumps blood in your veins and keeps you alive. . . it is not strong enough to take the attack of claws and teeth, or something worse. You owe it to me to keep it alive. You owe it to me to let me know of late-night dips, after making me fall for such a susceptible creature.”

You close your eyes, your heart racing in your chest. You have no idea how he’s been around, centuries perhaps, he’d never told you. But you know it was a lonely life, to be gifted with the remarkable talent of turning into every animal imaginable only to cease to be human, for that talent, which was thought to be a gift, seep into the essence of your humanity.

His gaze wanders over your countenance. You feel the heaviness of it. Finally, you open your eyes and bring your thumb over to the scar that goes over his eye and stroke it gently. The ridges of puffy skin catch against the pad of your thumb and you swallow.

"You are not actually scared, are you? Of me?" he murmurs.

You smile, “Never,” you brush your lips together. “And you’re right. I’m yours. Sorry for wandering off. I honestly was just looking for you, I missed you and knew you’d trace my scent.”

You scratch his jaw, the short hairs tickling your skin. He observes you a second longer before cracking a smile and nuzzling your neck, you feel teeth on your skin as he rocks his hips forward. “I’ve missed you too, my sweet soul.”

Before you know it he’s hauling you both out of the lake, laying you over the velvet grass. The soft blades tickle your skin. Pero lies next to you, propping himself up on his elbow, he allows his eyes to devour you whole. His wings stretch over you both like the night sky, long and wide, you swallow as you ache to touch them—to feel their softness on your fingertips.

“You like my wings,” he states, an observation. You nod and a wing descends, the tip of the feathers moving down the valley of your breasts and over to your stomach. You hold your breath as it inches closer to your clit, and you spread your legs without a second thought. “So obedient,” he murmurs. “Or is this your way of apologizing to me, hermosa?”

The brush of feathers between your legs halts the words that were about to spill. Your body arches, a loud gasp tearing from your throat. The subtle touch makes your body sing for him, begging him to touch you with force. Enjoying your pain driven from pleasure, he continues to play with you with the end of his wing, and you enjoy the sight of slick smearing against the feathers.

“Perhaps it’s both,” you murmur, sliding your hand down his torso and cupping his cock. You wrap your fingers and where he would groan eagerly, he turns rigid. Thinking that he’s still angry, you swipe a thumb over the head and move down.

Something else hits your hand. Something hard like the one in your palm.

“P-Pero. . .” you look up to him. He grunts in acknowledgment, waiting for your question. You move your hand again to make sure what you’re feeling is correct, your fingers slip between two heavy cocks, one of them decked in soft, tiny feathers. You let out a strangled sound. “Do—Do you have two cocks right now?”

He clears his throat. Normally you’d find the flush of his cheeks and his loss for words cute but you’re in shock. You’ve been with him many times before and never did he have two cocks.

And there was no way you missed one.

“It only happens once a month,” you squeeze the feathered one and he groans, hips thrusting to feel the softness of your palm. “It is. . . a side effect.”

“Side effect of what?”

“Of whatever the hell I am,” he answers bitterly. “It is for breeding. The. . . feathers they’re not actually feathers, they heighten the pleasure of a female and make them more. . . fertile.”

A beat of silence.

While you’re at a loss for words, you continue to stroke him, and indeed he was right. The soft things you deemed as feathers left a flowery-scented substance on your palm. Your lids flutter at the scent, your heart feeling light and full of want.

The mere thought of Pero filling you is enough to have your cunt drooling for him. And he must’ve sensed it because his eyes darken and his wings hide you from the watchful gaze of the moon.

He thrusts a little harder than, the bulbous head of his second cock hitting your wrist, “You like it?” he nips at your chin and cups your mound, slipping two fingers inside with ease. “I would want nothing more to fill this pretty little cunt up with all of me, but are you sure?”

Pero skims his teeth down your neck, “I never had someone during the full moon.”

“Then I’m happy your first,” you grind into the heel of his palm, moaning, when he presses hard against the bundle of nerves. “I want you, Pero. All of you. I want to feel you for days.”

“Oh, preciosa, you’ll be feeling me for centuries.”

There’s something exceptionally filthy being on all fours in the middle of the forest with Pero fucking his tongue into your sopping entrance.

He’d been going at it for at least half an hour, you lost track of time during your forth orgasm, the ground beneath soaking your essence. His mouth, his fingers, he spared no expense in working you open. His mustache chafed your skin as he stuffed you full with three fingers, scissoring them while being knuckle deep.

“Pero—I—I need—” you break down, tears streaming down your face. It’s too much. You don’t know how much you can take it. “Please.”

“You think you are ready to take me?” he kisses the lips of your cunt long and slow, the tip of his tongue tracing your folds. “Poor thing. Did I tire you out already?”

“I—I just want your cock. . .s,” you say, yet you still follow his mouth with your hips when he moves away. He suddenly flips you to your back, the force of it knocking the air from your lungs.

“Say it again,” he growls. “Say it.”

“I want your cocks,” you sinks his teeth into your neck, his regular cock brushing your folds. “I want all of you, Pero. Breed me.”

“Fuck,” he rasps, his tone frustrated. “Fuck—Of course, bebita, I’ll breed you so fucking good. Then I’ll fuck you again and again, until you are round with me,” something dark flashes in his eyes when you whimper. “You are making it really hard to go slow.”

You cry out again, purposefully grinding against his cocks, his eyes roll back and he momentraily loses himself, thrusting forward—

You both moan in unison; you, from being stretched around the girth of him, and him from how easily he slides inside of you, the tight fist of your cunt wrapping deliciously around his lenght.

Pero begins to fuck you with shallow thrust and your eyes roll back. You can’t imagine how good it’s going to feel when you have both of them inside. You’re a whimpering mess beneath him, his very being towering over yours. You clench around him as his thrusts become deeper, a gush of wetness soaking him. He presses his sweaty forehead against yours, his chest heaving, he holds your gaze.

“I’m going to slide in the other one now,” he kisses your lips and pulls away. Your eyes drift to his wings that stretch again. He pulls back his hips and when he pushes back again there’s an added pressure. A mixture of moans and pained hisses bounce behind clenched teeth, your finger curling into the dirt. Pero waits for you to adjust to both of him, his voice dripping with adoration. “You’re taking me so well. So good for me, my sweet little human, always wet and ready.”

When your body relaxes around him, he presses forward. The feel of his other cock is different, that feather like texture tickles your walls, the prickles quickly melting into drops of pleasure inside you. A burst of arousal awakens in the pit of your stomach, your eyes go wide, your legs spreading further until the tendons begin to ache.

“Please, please, please,” you cry out, hands grasping his forearms. “Fuck me, fuck me—shit—what is this?”

Pero pins your hips to the ground, “Calm down, you are going to hurt yourself,” a heavy scent of lavender fills your nostrils, more liquid dripping from your core. “Like I said, it adds to the pleasure but I am only half way in, mi amor. You need to be patient so I can fuck you properly.”

Your chest heaves, lungs collapsing, you taste salt on your tongue, “Okay. . .” you whisper. “Okay.”

“Such a good girl,” he coos, but despite that, he doesn’t release your hips. “Taking two cocks at once so beautifull. I wish you could see yourself,” his thumb traces where you two connect, then he begins drawing languid circles around your clit and your entire body loosens momentarily. He bruises himself deeper with small thrust. “So close, just a little bit more and you’ll have them both inside of you.”

Pero’s large hand caresses the swell of your stomach, you smile at him with a dazed smile, “Just a little bit more.”

You know he’s fully sheathed from the sounds he make, something between a growl and a moan. The stretch you feel is immaculate. You feel so full. Both cocks twitch uncontrollably inside, the sensation shortening your breath. Sweat beads at his foreahead, fingers biting into your flesh as he tries to stop himself from ruining you completely.

When you cradle his cheeks, his eyes snap at you and he bares his teeth. It might’ve been tricks of the night, but you sweat his pupils become dark diamond before returning to normal. His wings flutter around you both protectively.

“There’s no one here,” you say calmly. “I’m all yours.”

Realization strucks him, his eyes widen, lips parting with a soft exhale. His expression makes you want to laugh. This isn’t the first time you’re telling him this, yet everytime you do he looks at you with the same awe-struck expression.

Then all hell breaks loose.

His teeth sink into your neck, his hips relentless as he hammers into you. Wet noises fill the forest. You’re left screaming his name, the burst of pleasure you receive with every stroke mind numbing. You feel so stuffed. Both cocks going in an out of you with embarrising ease, your body is on fire and something devastating begins to build up rapidly inside.

“P-Pero,” you stutter, slack-jawed. “I’m—I’m going to—”

“You feel it don’t you,” he sucks a nipple between his lips, tongue lapping the hardened peak. “The way pleasure feels endless and something that you can drown in forever. I have been feeling like that during every full moon. Finally I have someone to fall from the heavens with me—”

He hooks his arms underneath your thighs and pushes them up until your knees graze your forehead. Your spine screams in agony, yet the thickness of having both cocks inside is enough to numb you to it. He goes deeper with every snap, your eyes roll back, ever muscles goes taut right before he pushes you over the edge, your cunt gushing around him as you scream his name, over and over.

“That’s it, my sweet girl. Come for me,” he buries his head into your neck, fully exposing your body to his weight while he viciously pounds into you. “Fuck, can you feel me?”

You definitely can—but you can’t form the words. His cocks expand, throbbing and twitching as they both strike that one spot that makes you see stars brighter then the ones above.

Pero keeps his promise and spills into you, both cocks filling you until your body can’t take anymore and he drips around the edges. Your eyes flutter closed. Your mouth gasping for air, there’s so much, his cock pulsing. He gradually releases your legs, and they drop to the ground, framing his waist. Pero’s face remains buried in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Do I smell good?” you joke.

He hums, “You smell amazing,” he answers. “You smell like me.”

You want to quip back and say it must not be that good then, but you swallow your teasing for now, admitting to yourseld that you wouldn’t want to smell like anything else.

“I never want to leave you,” he mutters. “Feels too good.”

“Then don’t,” you say, clenching around him. You whimper as you feel both cocks still hard inside of you. “Doesn’t look like coming once subdued you anyway.”

“Say it,” he peels away from your neck, grinning down at you.

“Say what?”

“That you want me to fuck you again.”

You roll your eyes. “No way.”

His grin only wides when he rolls his hips and your words break into a loud, wanton moan. “That is okay, your body speaks for you anyway.”

Before you can reply, he silences you with a kiss.

#pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #the great wall fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pero tovar au #animal shapeshifter!pero tovar #hauntedhoedown

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lurkingshan · 4 months ago

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The Miracle of Teddy Bear Saved the Gays

Last weekend, both @twig-tea and I had time off and were in the mood to binge something, so Twig suggested we finally watch The Miracle of Teddy Bear. Both of us had missed it while it was airing live (because it didn’t have international distribution) and had been given the impression by others that it had a sad ending that included some anti-queer messages. It was also very long, so we were not exactly rushing to get to it. But we are stubborn and like to judge things for ourselves, so we decided since we had the time and the show was now available, we should jump in. And imagine our surprise when we found out everything we had been told about it was wrong (we have our theories about why). This is one of the best queer dramas we have ever seen, with phenomenal acting, writing, and direction, and we have so much to say about it. The post that follows is co-written by the two of us. Strap in, folks, because it’s a long one.

If you haven’t seen this show yet and don’t want any spoilers, stop reading this right now and head over to YouTube, where international fans can now watch it for free with English subtitles. We’re going to go deep on the show below, and because this drama is designed to slowly reveal information in a very deliberate way, nearly everything counts as a spoiler. We’ll try not to give too much away in the early sections, but be warned!

The Story

The Miracle of Teddy Bear is the tale of a deeply traumatized gay man in desperate need of healing, and the teddy bear who comes to life to help him. In the process of taking care of his person, our bear uncovers deep family trauma and many secrets and lies, accidentally solves crimes, makes lots of friends, heals a family, and saves several lives. He is a very good bear, and through this adventure he contemplates his own existence, learns how to be human, and discovers what it means to truly love someone.

This is primarily a family drama with important things to say about queer truth, and while it includes several bl storylines, it is not a romance. Intertwined with the family drama is a bl show within the show and a series of interrelated mysteries that slowly get unraveled as the story goes on. One of the things this show does best is parcel out information from various perspectives at the perfect time to keep the viewer one step behind—we found ourselves constantly almost guessing what the show was going to do next, but it always chose a direction a little to the left and surprised us in the best way.

In the end, every question we asked was answered, and every time we thought a character’s motivation felt a little too shallow, we were given more. The experience of watching this show was deeply satisfying and really made us feel seen. This show gets us.

The Characters

The Bear: Tofu

Tofu is the titular teddy bear who comes to life via drama magic and does his best to support his person. He starts the series incredibly innocent, and the show and his actor, Inn Sarin, do an incredible job of depicting the change in him as he lives life as a human, becoming more complex and less naive. Tofu is the heart of the show, and it is his love and kindness that enable the growth of the other characters in this story.

The Core Family: Nut, Na, and Kuenchai

Nut is our protagonist, and his struggles with life as a gay man are the soul of this story. He lives with his mom, Na, and their dog, Kuenchai, and Tofu is his beloved teddy bear. Yes, Nut is a cranky ass grown man with a beloved teddy bear. It will make sense eventually, we promise. Nut is a bl novelist working through old trauma via adapting his work for the screen. Na is a woman who has been Going Through It, and while we start the story with only the vague sense that something is not quite right with her, we spend a lot of time on her history as well as her growth in the present until we get the full picture. The way Nut and Na’s stories are tied together gets to several of the core themes of this show (discussed more below).

The Sides: Gen, Song, Prib, and the nosy neighbors

Our cast of friends and allies who support Nut and Tofu and have romantic trials and tribulations of their own. Without giving too much away, we’ll just say this: all of these characters have satisfying arcs, and some of them may have caused us to squeal in delight.

Specters of the Past: Neung and Tarn

Telling you literally anything about them is a major spoiler so just know they are here and they are important and you will fully understand why and how by the end. Oh yeah, and Neung looks exactly like Tofu (or should we say Tofu looks like Neung?) for Reasons (which are explained! We love this show).

Villains: Saen, Sib, Jan, and Parit

Expect these four to show up often and cause a lot of trouble. Their motives and exact crimes are revealed over the course of the show.

Other Elders: Anik, Juea, Kanya and Sittha

They are mostly here to serve a few key plot functions and represent a spectrum of parental figures (related by blood and not) and acceptance of queerness.

And we cannot forget: The inanimate objects

In this show, inanimate objects can come to life under a certain set of magical conditions, and they are Tofu’s friends and helpers along the way. Some of their stories are shockingly touching! They also add some needed levity to the show, especially the grumpy ones. Special shoutout to the cactus and the spare blanket, our crime solving MVPs. We have to admit, the animation for these took a bit of getting used to, but within a couple of episodes we were cheering these creepy blinking eyes on.

The Themes

And here is where we start to get into spoiler territory about specific character arcs. This show had so many clear and well-articulated themes, and they stayed consistent throughout the story.

Queer people can be happy

This is stated explicitly as well as demonstrated through multiple storylines: gay men can love each other, have good relationships and fulfilling sex lives, and get their happy endings. Those who argue that people should fight against their queerness because it will make their lives harder and keep them from happiness are not just wrong, they have it backwards.

Queer people can only be happy by living their truth

This is perhaps the main thesis of this show, and it comes across in so many ways over the arc of the story. We see this theme exemplified in particular through Nut, Tarn, Song, and Gen, with each of them representing different versions of the queer experience that shape who they are and how they show up in the world. Even before the story tells you, it’s clear what kind of experiences each has had from his relationship to his own queerness and his general demeanor and outlook on life. Nut has survived an abusive homophobic father, and that shows up in his anger, his self-protective rejection of others, and his struggle with emotional regulation. Gen has been raised by loving and accepting parents who support his choices in all ways, and this shows in his good humor, balanced perspective, and confidence to be himself. When we say good media should show, don’t tell us its point, this is a fantastic example of what that means.

Accept and love your queer children or pay the price

Relatedly, this story is very interested in the consequences for parents who fail their queer children, and explores a whole spectrum of acceptance from enthusiastic support to negligent ambivalence to misguided suppression to violent bigotry. We see so many different parents and parental figures react to learning about their gay sons and gain insight into them by how they respond—and only the ones who manage to get it together to love and support their kids get to keep their families. Critically, the adults who fail their queer children are convinced they’re acting in their best interests at the time, and we are along for the ride as the redeemable ones go through the stages of first admitting they were wrong but still thinking their intentions justify the pain they caused to fully acknowledging the damage they have done and making amends.

Be patient with others, you never know what they’ve been through

That said, the show also invites us to stop and consider what might be behind aberrant behavior before judging it. Tofu is unfailingly patient with others, and even with the worst people in this story, he always seeks to understand why they are behaving a certain way before giving up on them. The show slowly and methodically reveals information that recontextualizes things we thought we understood and encourages us to keep digging for empathy and missing context. People in this story behave very badly and make a lot of mistakes, but a lot of it becomes more understandable once you have the full picture.

Unprocessed trauma will prevent you from healing and cause you to perpetuate harm on others

Speaking of bad behavior, so much of what’s wrong in this story is driven by unprocessed trauma of one sort or another. Nut’s anger is at its core a deep hurt from being betrayed by the person he trusted most to be on his side. Na’s refusal to live in reality causes her to continue to hurt herself and her son. Saen’s denial about his own actions leads to far-reaching consequences he could not imagine. And the healing process depicted in the show is not linear; people who have made mistakes in the series make them more than once and advance and regress as the situation around them changes.

People are responsible for their own actions and inactions

And while the show is clear that trauma is the source of the bad behavior of these characters, it is also clear that this is not an excuse. Everyone in this story is held to account for the things they do, as well as the things they don’t, no matter how understandable their reasons are. The people who refuse to heal face serious consequences in addition to seeing the damage their unprocessed trauma causes others.

Noble idiocy leads to everyone being unhappy

One of the biggest sources of said unprocessed trauma in this story is characters making self-sacrificial choices for the ostensible benefit of others and bringing misery to everyone in the process. We love a drama that recognizes noble idiocy for the selfish and destructive act it truly is and clearly says you have to communicate with your loved ones if you don’t want to make a mess of everyone’s lives.

You can’t appease an abuser

No amount of hiding who you are or making yourself small will convince an abuser to treat you better or guarantee your safety. This theme is most obvious in the main storyline between Nut, Sib, and Na, but Jan is another example of a manipulative and emotionally abusive character who other characters continually try to play nice with, to no avail. She takes every opportunity to be cruel, whether the person she’s talking to is kind or combative in return. The show reinforces that abusers will always find an excuse to justify their behavior; changing yourself for them is pointless.

Love is wanting the best for someone, even if that means letting go

This is really the show’s core point where romance is concerned: being with you may not actually be what is best for the person you love, and if your love is true you have to accept that. The people who could not see this—Saen and Jan—were the ones who continued to cause harm to their loved ones and themselves, while the characters who honestly worked towards the happiness of their beloveds even if that happiness was not with themselves—Tofu, Tarn, and eventually Prib—were rewarded by seeing that happiness play out and ended our story truly content. The MVP of this theme is Tofu, whose pure teddy bear love for his person became more complicated and selfish as he became more human. But in the end, he held to the truth at his core that Nut’s happiness was his happiness.

You can have more than one great love, and one doesn't tarnish the others

Which brings us to one of the most beautiful takeaways from this show, and something that dramas so rarely do well. Nut loves two different men, neither more than the other, and he never chooses between them. They both hold important meaning in his life and he honors that whether they are with him or not. When Nut is with Tofu, he remembers his past love with fondness but he is clear that these memories do not make his love for Tofu any less real. A lesser show would have had those moments where Nut was thinking about his past cause him to distance himself from Tofu. But in this show, Nut sharing his past and working through his lack of closure was when he and Tofu had some of their closest and happiest moments together. This show is extremely clear that we can have happiness with more than one person over the course of our lives, and it is not only okay but encouraged!

The Resolution

From here, we will be talking about the ending, and so by necessity will no longer be avoiding major spoilers. If you’re intrigued by the above and want to avoid being spoiled fully, stop now! One of the things that is so brilliant about this show is the way information is slowly revealed, so if you think you would like this show we recommend experiencing it for yourself. If you’re still not convinced and need to know the ending before you decide, read on.

In our view, this story ends exactly as the show signals it will from the very beginning—and the way it should—and the ending is unambiguously a happy one. Tofu realizes that he and Tarn’s life forces are tied together, that it was Tarn going into his coma that caused him to awaken, and that as long as he continues to live as a human, Tarn will not recover. We and the characters have come to love Tofu in his guise as a human, but the truth is he does not belong there—he is a teddy bear, and for him to stay by robbing an actual human being of their life would be wrong. The story took pains throughout to show us how tenuous and restricted Tofu’s existence is, because he is not a real person and thus can’t live a full life (for example, he can’t get a job or safely leave the house because he doesn’t have documentation or any life experience). We also see Tofu struggle so much with the added complexities of the human experience that he becomes ill with overwhelm multiple times. He repeats to us through the whole story that all he really wants is to be a comfort to Nut. While he finds value and joy in being human, it does not change who he is at his core. And so he allows himself to be poisoned by Jan, sacrificing his human existence to bring Tarn back and exposing Jan and Saen’s crimes in the process.

With this decision, the other characters get the chance to mourn him and move on. Nut grieves, finally makes the connection between human and teddy bear Tofu, goes to therapy (!), makes peace with his mother, and writes his love story with Tofu as his next show. Tarn wakes up and begins his recovery, and he and Nut slowly reconnect and rekindle their relationship over time. Na finds joy in her lucid moments and enjoys time with her family, finally free of the hell Saen and Sib unleashed on her life. Gen and Song get their happy ending with acceptance from Song’s dad, and Prib’s fixation on gay men becomes clear when her new female love interest enters the scene (let’s go, lesbians!). We get confirmation that the nosy neighbors are, in fact, an elder gay couple. Even Kuenchai and some of the inanimate objects have character arcs! Kuenchai is instrumental in making sure Nut is reunited with bear Tofu, and we get to see a slipper gain some independence from her other half and a grumpy bolster cuddle in to comfort her people when they need it.

We end our story with several happy families who love their gay children and a call for marriage equality via Nut and Tarn deciding to marry whether it’s legal or not. Tofu is a bear again but his human life is very much not forgotten—Nut speaks to him every day, honors the love they shared, and talks about him openly with Tarn. And we even hear from Tofu again, see a final moment between him and Nut in a beautiful dream, and are reassured that Tofu is happy to still be with Nut in his original form and to see him living so well. It’s everything he wanted, and he made it happen. He truly is the very best bear.

The Purpose

We wanted to take some space to get a little extra meta and talk about why this show matters so much in the broader queer media landscape. First, it was a landmark queer television event in Thailand—please read this post by @flowerbeasblog to get the background on its significance in the cultural landscape. This show was broadcast very intentionally to educate and send a message to a broader audience in Thailand than is typically reached via bl dramas. And that’s why understanding and taking its themes seriously is so very important.

This is a story that is deeply rooted in queer truth, written by a queer man who wants people like him to be seen and understood. The show puts forward an unapologetically pro-gay message on broadcast television (on a major national network! during primetime! that does not shy away from the sexual component of queer love!) and embeds important political commentary in a fantastic and engaging story in a format familiar and comfortable for the Thai audience. It’s not meant to be received as a romance, and its nuanced and mature take on love and relationships is certainly not designed for ship wars. The writer even turns directly to the camera and underlines this in the final episode: while he respects the importance of bl in the media landscape, he has a bigger agenda in mind for this show and important things to say.

And that’s why some of the discourse around this show is so frustrating. A small portion of international fans who watched this show live seemed to misunderstand it deeply and created such a false impression of it that it caused others to stay away. Contrary to some of the takes out there, this show does not have a sad ending, Tofu’s resolution is not remotely anti-queer, and there is no woman who ends up with Nut (we are so confused that this was anyone’s interpretation; Nut at every age and several times within the show explicitly shouts about how very extremely gay he is). To see this story as a tragedy because Tofu “dies”—which he doesn’t; his human body disappears but he returns to being a conscious and content teddy bear—is to misunderstand Tofu’s character journey, his narrative purpose, and his agency. We can only assume that shipping got in the way of comprehension here, and people who wanted to see human Tofu and Nut end up together focused on that to the exclusion of pretty much everything this show was saying and doing.

At the end of this story, Tofu is happy. To think that Nut was better off with Tofu than with Tarn is to not allow for the complexities of human experience; Nut did love Tofu, but he loved Tarn, too, and their relationship was a positive force in his life both before and after Tofu entered it. And Tarn was an actual gay human man in a coma who could not wake up while Tofu existed. Tofu was the creation of Tarn’s love for Nut; his existence was limited, and he found being a human extremely difficult. All Tofu wanted was to be Nut’s teddy bear and stay with Nut forever. He wanted Nut to be happy, because Tarn wanted Nut to be happy, and during his time as a human he worked to enable that happiness. He was instrumental in moving forward several stuck characters and uncovering many secrets, all of which were necessary for Nut to get to where he ends up at the end of the show. Being in a relationship with Nut was a bonus. He enjoyed the experience of being in love with Nut, but in the end he chose to sacrifice his human life so that Nut could have a permanent, lasting happiness with someone who was real. Tofu’s human death is not an example of the bury your gays trope; in fact, it is a total rebuke of it. Tofu, and this show, saved the gay men in this story and gave them full and happy lives. We cannot recommend watching and supporting this show enough.

#the miracle of teddy bear #thai drama #thai bl #long post #intergenerational trauma challenge

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swordmaid · 1 year ago

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made my canon durge (bc durge shri’iia is just an au…!!) her name is yves, a half-elf cleric of kelemvor 🫶 my creepy funeral nun who was born with serial killer genes and she speed-runs people to their own funeral so she can serve them….or something….idk

#she’s also my third char with heterochromia…heterophobia 😳#but her one alternates with her hair and I like it it’s kinda camp #idk if I’ll do anyone’s romance with her idk her personality yet …#I’m planning to multiclass her to assassin tho for ~lore~ reasons and maybe just keep the cleric levels at 1 for the dialogue lol #but she either ends up as a full cleric or a full assassin by the end of the durge storyline I haven’t decided yet 🤭#depends on if she’s gonna do a redemption arc or not …#but anyway I’m giving her a circlet so she doesn’t look /as/ ominous looking in the day lol #shut up about bg3.

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 1 month ago

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The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 7

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 7

Word Count: 3157

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Yeah I decided to split the 6500k chapter into two since we're going to learn about Law's past and reader's past (this way we get one story at a time). Also, this songs sums up Law's and reader's relationship at this point (it's a beautiful lie, it's a perfect denial) - anyway, don't be mad! Things will fall into place soon enough and the denial will stoooop! Unless the evil author has other plans... *insert evil laugh*

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid

Masterlist

Law keeps pulling you by the hand, and you keep following him. He’s not leading you back to your room yet, the night is still young and you haven’t been excused. He’s taking you to an empty room, away from the hustle of the party, away from prying eyes, and away from Doflamingo’s manipulation and poisonous words.

You both enter, and Law closes the door behind you, finally letting go of your hand. The room is dark and eerily quiet, your ears still buzz slightly from all the chatter in the other room. There are shadows dancing by the carpet in the middle of the room, the full moon casting its fickle light through the window.

It’s an office of sorts or a very small library.

Law sighs and starts to pace, one hand caressing his goatee absentmindedly. He seems on edge, and you feel a little lost. He’s usually so in control, so put-together and now… with a few words from his uncle, he’s falling apart.

“Law?” You start softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, but you know you’ll have to talk about it. It’s something important to Law, and in any real relationship, the mention of another woman, mixed with the jabs Doflamingo sent his way, would be discussed.

“It’s… it shouldn’t be important.” His eyes barely meet yours, there’s a shadow of vulnerability in them that he doesn’t seem to want you to acknowledge.

“But it is, isn’t it?” You take a tentative step towards him, trying to get him to look at you. “Who is she? Who’s Monet?”

The name alone provokes a reaction from him. His fists clench, and the deep crease in his forehead deepens even more. Law groans and continues his incessant pacing, effectively shutting you out from whatever he is processing inside.

You feel the lump in your throat tightening, and an uneasiness in your stomach makes it churn and burn. It’s as if this bond you’ve been creating - fake or not - has now become a chasm. An endless void between you that you have no idea how to cross.

It stings. It’s frustrating to be shut out of something so important. Clearly, he’s still hurt from whatever happened. Clearly, there are still feelings buried within. And even though you shouldn’t feel this way - this is not real, remember? - your heart still aches at this sudden realisation.

“Doflamingo will bring her up more often, Law. In a real relationship, your girlfriend would ask. I need to know.” You try to be assertive, your need to stay in control of any and all variables affecting your tone of voice. This is a loose end, it can’t be left untied, or you’ll risk tripping on it and destroying your whole pretence.

He sits down on the armchair, his head buried in his hands. There’s pain there. Raw, unbridled pain. You kneel in front of him, gently removing his hands and staring into his eyes, urging him to let you in, to share his vulnerability.

“It’s… complicated.” He begins. But now his eyes don’t leave yours, as if seeking grounding, an anchor in stormy seas. “Monet was someone important to me, a long time ago. I thought we had something real, but when I brought her home, Doffy did what he always does. He tests, and pushes until someone breaks. And she broke easily.”

Your lips remain sealed, still absorbing all the information he’s willing to share. He continues.

“Turns out Monet didn’t care about me, she was only after money, power and influence and… well, Doflamingo has plenty of each.”

“So he took her from you?”

Perhaps the pain he’s showing has nothing to do with lingering feelings but with resentment and betrayal. Both from her and from his uncle.

Law scoffs. “I don’t blame him entirely for it. Monet was the one with the choice. He can push and bend and manipulate all he wants, but he doesn’t force anything. She made her choice. And it wasn’t me.”

He sounds bitter, wounded even. Was the past Law less guarded with his real emotions? Was he less controlled, less in check?

“Do you…” You begin, your questions burning your tongue. ‘Do you still have feelings for her? Do you still love her? Would you choose her over me…?’ Yet you lack the courage to ask them. Perhaps because you don't feel entitled to know the answer. He's not yours, and you are certainly not his. No matter how tempting or exhilarating that notion might be.

“No.” He still answers. He doesn't read minds, but he can read you like a book. And that's a terrifying thought.

Your eyes search his, but he avoids you. Is it really a no? Even if he doesn't love her romantically, there's no denying that there's still something there. Why does that realisation burn a hole in your chest and prickle your eyes? You don't even want to try and figure it out.

Law runs his fingers through his hair and continues. “Doflamingo knows which buttons to push, he knows me well. He’s well aware of how I bend and how I break.”

“And now he’s trying to do to me what he did to Monet.” Realisation hits you. That’s why he was being so inappropriate and rude. Maybe he used the same words on Monet to lure her. Well, you weren’t here because of Law’s money, you were here because you genuinely cared for him and he requested your help. “Well, he’s barking up the wrong tree.” You say plainly.

Finally Law’s smirk returns to his lips. He seems to have calmed down somewhat, so you reassure him some more.

“If this were true, Law,” you purposely choose not to use the signal so he knows you’re being real. “You didn’t need to be worried. I would never be with you just for the money. I can’t be bought. You should know that.”

His hand ghosts around your cheek, never really touching, but the vulnerability in his eyes is overwhelming. You revisit the thought that, perhaps, you should discuss emotional boundaries.

Before something irreversible stirs inside you.

“Thank you.” He rises and uses his hand to help you up as well. His amber gaze is focused again, controlled, but still tense. You can see him ready to snap at the tiniest provocation. Monet still bothers him and now it bothers you as well. Though you should try to push that thought to the back of your mind because you know Doflamingo will prey on both your vulnerabilities.

Looking at Law, you still sense him on edge, his emotions in plain sight when he’s so used to keeping them hidden from the world. And as your heart constricts, pained from his suffering, you realise that maybe that something irreversible has already happened.

-*-

You both return to the party, weary and praying for the time when it’s appropriate to retire to your bedroom. Law doesn’t leave your side anymore. But Bellamy and Doflamingo’s lingering gazes and snickers have him seething again, and Law decides to take his frustrations out on glasses of whiskey.

You try to subtly tell him that he shouldn’t be drinking, but Doffy provokes him again with a jab at how polite you are and how well-behaved, and Law picks up another glass.

You're not feeling too sunny yourself after the Monet conversation, so instead of fighting Law, you decide to join him. You think about ordering another virgin mojito, but instead, you drink one with extra rum. That seems like it will pair well with your mood.

Luckily, Cora announces that perhaps you should all go to bed because tomorrow will be a full day of fun activities and more mingling.

Yipee.

You and Law hold hands as you return to your room, but there seems to be a cloud hovering over both your dispositions. Law remained distant after you returned to the party, probably lost in his own thoughts instead of sharing them with you, and now the atmosphere is charged with tension.

You’re not quite sure what to do to diffuse it, so, after entering the room, you stand in front of the vanity mirror, removing your jewellery slowly. The alcohol you ingested managed to make your head lighter but you are not drunk and Law seems to be the same, despite all the glasses he downed. He must have a very high tolerance for alcohol.

He unbuttoned his shirt as soon as he entered the room, and he’s now sitting at the edge of the bed, his amber gaze burning into you, even though you’re not facing him. He seems thoughtful but you’re not privy to his thoughts, and once again, that stings.

Trying to ignore both the sting and the gaze, unsure if he needs space or confrontation, you continue your task. But it doesn’t take long before he explodes. “I heard some of what Doflamingo said to you when I was away, before he brought up my past relationship.”

You stare at him through the mirror, your face turning pink at the mention. Doffy had been quite crude, so the fact that Law heard it is a bit embarrassing. “Oh?” Law’s eyes darken with your reaction, a storm brewing behind his golden orbs.

“Is that what you really want?” The earring slips from your hand, rattling loudly against the wooden surface of the vanity and you turn to face him.

“What?”

Law gets up, tousling his hair in a desperate move, a frailty and vulnerability in his gestures that you can’t quite handle. “To be brought to your knees with a look? To be bent and taken anywhere as a claim?” He sighs exasperated. “To be controlled with power and a firm hand?”

You straighten your back, eyes sharpening and lips pursing. Doflamingo’s words have been brewing in Law's mind - all that crap about him being too soft - that’s why he seems so distant: Doffy planted the seeds of doubt and now he’s insecure.

He looks into your eyes, pacing forward, something you can’t quite name shining behind his darkened pupils. “Is it him you want?”

“No.” You say firmly. “Never.”

He takes another tentative step. “Because I can be whoever you want me to be.” You're not sure if it’s the drinks he had, or the rawness that Doflamingo's words pulled from within him. Whatever it is, this vulnerability he’s showing you is very conflicting.

“I don’t want you to be anybody but yourself, Law. Besides…” Your voice falters. “This is not real.”

With one more step he’s right in front of you. You can feel the heat coming from his body. His scent envelops you and hazes your senses, his voice spirals around your mind, creating a fog of desire you cannot escape. The dizziness that surrounds you doesn't come only from the alcohol.

“But what if it were real?” He whispers, his lips mere inches from yours. The question sends a shiver down your spine. This is dangerous. You should both stop this before it escalates.

“What if it were?” You ask, unsuccessful in your efforts.

His hand reaches up and he hesitates, his hand lingering near your ear, ready to use the signal. Yet he doesn’t do it. Instead, he lets his hand fall to your shoulder, caressing it as it descends, resting at your wrist.

“If this were real,” he starts as his free hand cups your face and tilts it up towards him, getting even closer. “I’d make sure I gave you all you wanted.” His lips brush yours softly, then he kisses your jawline, stopping at your neck and sucking, making you gasp and bite your lip. “If this were real, I’d know you were mine, and I wouldn’t have to be insanely paranoid that I’m going to lose you.”

He’s being much more truthful and open about his emotions than ever before, giving you a glimpse of his real feelings. You’re once again reminded that this is very dangerous territory, but your sane thoughts are all being pushed to the back of your mind. There is only Law now.

The hand at your wrist moves to grab your hip. He squeezes, caressing the bone with his thumb, then climbs upwards, his thumb scraping against your breast. His fingers slide further, grazing your already erect nipple. The soft noise that escapes your parted lips sinfully resembles a moan.

“If this were real, I’d truly make you mine. There would be no more doubts.” His hands slip under the straps of your dress, pulling them down and fully exposing your neck and shoulders where he then lays a kiss and a long, wet lick.

Your vision is already blurring, your breaths leaving your lips in broken pants and gasps. Heat and want gather within you, and you don't quite know how to put it out.

“Tell me…” He slurs your name, letting it drag lustfully through his lips, against your collarbone. “If this were real, would you let me take you, right here, right now?”

The question is charged. There has been no signal. You have to assume this is real, but it can't be.

Right?

Yet there is no way to control the words and noises slipping out of your mouth. Even if you weren't hazy from the drinks you had, you know perfectly well that as soon as Trafalgar Law lays his hands upon you, every sane thought leaves you and you are at his complete mercy.

“Yes, yes I would.” You whisper between mewls.

The tension around you shifts, changing into something heavier as Law’s hands grip your waist tightly. His eyes darken with desire before he lifts you, setting you down on top of the vanity and slotting himself between your parted legs.

“That’s good. Because I don’t think I can stop now.” He doesn’t even give you time to process or weigh his words before his lips come crashing onto yours. His tongue immediately searches for yours. He’s demanding, relentless and you give all you have to him.

He keeps taking it all and the kiss is charged, hungry and consuming. The boundaries you two set in place crumble and blur and you don’t even know what’s real or what’s fake anymore, but do you even care?

Law pulls back, his forehead still pressed against yours as his hands roam up your thighs, slithering beneath the fabric of your dress while his lips wander to your neckline. The straps of the dress he pulled down are exposing the flesh of your breasts and he latches his lips there. “Say you’re mine.” His voice is ragged, raspy and laced with want and need. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me you’re mine.” He repeats.

You know this comes from a place of hurt. From the void that Monet left, that Doflamingo helped create. Rationally you know that, but your mind is long gone. You’re a mess now. And you can only please him.

“I’m yours, all yours, Law.”

The grunt he exhales is primal and possessive. His hands grip you with force as he lifts you, arms circling your waist, lips latched onto yours again, and he begins stumbling blindly towards the bed. You wrap your legs around his waist, taking advantage of his loss of control by ruffling your hands through his hair, pulling him into your kiss desperately.

From the interactions you’ve had with him, he barely let you touch him. He was the one in control, the one in charge. He touched, he teased, he commanded. Tonight, though…

There’s a blur between what’s wrong and what’s right, what’s real and what’s fake… and he lets you have this.

You moan into his mouth as you feel the silkiness of his locks, then you circle your arms around his neck and pull him impossibly closer. Law stumbles as he reaches the edge of the bed but quickly regains his footing, setting you both down, your back against the mattress as he continues to bully your tongue with his.

“Mine. Say it again, sweetheart, let me hear you.” There’s an underlying neediness in his pleas. This is a different Law than the one you’re familiar with. He’s vulnerable. Bent, not yet fully broken, but very bruised.

Doflamingo managed that on Law’s first day back, and you were both helpless to stop him.

“I’m yours, Law.” Your whisper is broken, ragged, filled with want and need clawing at your chest, yearning to be let out. Yet…

Law’s hands lift your dress and he keeps kissing the top of your breasts, threatening to go lower with each kiss.

Yet…

Your legs cling onto him, pulling him to you, feeling just how much you want each other. It’s bliss.

And yet…

“I’m… Law… we drank too much… we can’t do this now… this… this is not real.”

The finality in your words seems to rattle and shake you both. Your legs lose their strength and fall down onto the mattress. Law stops his ministrations, his hand still slotted against the back of your thigh as he was lifting it, the other one at the strap of your dress as he was about to expose your breast to his eager mouth.

“It’s not… real…” He whispers and his breath comes in hot waves against your chest. His hands part with your body and you feel cold and empty without his touch, but he’s still hovering over you, eyes glazed as he tries to regain control of the situation. “We’re not real.” He says with gravitas, reminding both you and himself of your agreement.

Then, with a swift motion, he gets up, straightening his clothes and running his fingers through his hair. “I shouldn’t have taken things this far… I… Doflamingo he… I… I should have stopped. I’m sorry.”

Somehow you find your voice as you sit up, straightening your clothes as well, now that the moment is gone. “No, Law it’s… it’s okay, I… I also…”

You both stare at each other, a longing in your gaze, your eyes searching each other for promises of impossible ‘what ifs’. Because why can’t this be real? Who’s stopping it? Yourselves? And why?

“This won’t happen again. Forgive me.” He still searches your eyes, maybe looking for some defiance to his statement, maybe looking for something else… yet, you remain silent. Law runs his fingers through his thick black hair and sighs, “I’ll be right back.”

And, once again, he turns to escape a heated, charged situation and takes refuge in the bathroom, leaving you teetering on the borders of your self-imposed boundaries. What is real and what is not or… better yet, what you wish was real and what is not.

Because, as you already realised, you are in this way too deep and the feelings you know you both share are bubbling up, ready to burst. All far more complicated than either of you had anticipated.

|Chapter 8|

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #the meet cute #law x reader #reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #reader insert #law #you x law #law x you #Spotify

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doublel27 · 6 months ago

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We Are: Queer Found Family and Romance

Or the meta I didn’t intend to write.

It’s taken 9 eps (of me admittedly watching We Are through gifs and clips on Twitter, because I have yet to pay for iQIYI and I am bad at grey watching) but I think I have figured out the central conflict/plot of We Are and why the mostly linear narrative of Phum and Peem with the in media res relationships of our other three pairings made this impossible to fully tease out until we got all the pieces.

The through line that connects all of these stories about how incredibly hard it can be to be part of a queer friend group when the lines of friendship and romance blur, especially when there’s a real aspect of found family to that group.

Two things really cemented it for me this week: Tan telling the gang (and therefore the audience) the full scope of his background with Fang, as well as the beginning of Phuwin’s IG live where he talks about why he likes Kluen as a character is that he’s very direct with people he likes and isn’t blurring the lines between friends and possibly fucking up the friendship.

Because that’s the central problem that all four main couples of the show grapple with in different ways. I’m gonna get into all of that under the cut.

I’m going to start with Tan and Fang because aou contains multitudes and is my beloved while going for Fang could have always messed up his relationship with Phum, we find out in episode 9 that Tan met Fang first. Unsurprisingly, it’s not a great first meeting between what are seemingly two known fighters of what appear to be rival high schools. But then Tan finds Phum and Fang being jumped by a group from his own high school and saves them and eventually becomes friends with them sometime two years+ before the start of our story. Within this time, Tan falls so far in love with Fang, who can both out bitch and out fight, him that Tan goes full simp instead and cuts out the fighting(love that for him).

And mixing his reveal to his friends of how he met Fang and how Fang eventually consumed his waking thoughts to the point he would wish to order Fang as a pizza topping (my love for Tan is immeasurable).

But take us back to episode 2 (which is now on YouTube for US watchers for how long I don’t know) and Tan has clearly not seen Fang in awhile. He asks Phum to invite Fang out where Tan will happen to be. At the time, it was taken as Tan and Phum are university friends and Tan and been obsessed with Fang ever since and needs Phum to make the connections. But the clues that Tan and Fang were also close were already laid down. Their exchange goes:

Tan: Hey. It’s been awhile. Right?

Fang: I thought you were dead.

Tan: Come on. I haven’t seen you in ages either. (That’s the English translation, but the flow of the conversation connotes that Fang hasn’t sought him out either)

At which point Phum makes the face he always makes when Tan is in Fang hyperfocus mode of looking away and sighing. And Fang pointedly asks why Phum invited him out and what is going on.

Which is a weird exchange when you think Tan is Phum’s friend who is obsessed with Fang. It is a less weird exchange between friends that have been avoiding each other for an unspecified amount of time. And we can assume Tan started avoiding Fang because he was madly in love with him and didn’t know how to handle it and didn’t tell Fang why he was avoiding him.

In the episode 9 speech to his friends, Tan outlines that he didn’t think Fang would ever reciprocate his feelings (that it was impossible) and didn’t want to fuck with the friendship (at which point Pun sends a longing look to Chain but we’ll get back to that later) with Fang and Phum and he buried it. Until he couldn’t live with it any longer and decided to do something about it.

Which with the limited information we have, his feelings were already fucking with his friendship. He already didn’t know how to approach Fang because of his feelings at the start of the show, so is it better to not try and hope the romantic feeling dies while avoiding your friend or shoot your shot and maybe get a boyfriend out of it or maybe continue to fuck up your friendship. Tan chooses to roll the dice and it’s clear from the moment they leave the bar in episode two that Fang likes him back.

They both watch each other when they think the other isn’t looking. Fang is the one who sends Phum and Peem home together and sets himself up with a taxi ride with Tan. It’s particularly interesting to me after episode 9, this exchange, because Fang looks at a passed out Peem, mouths Peem? And proceeds to ask Phum if this is the guy that hit him while Tan snickers and Peem looks like the saddest wet cat. It’s only after the affirmative from Phum that Fang is essentially like “well, you can take him home Phum. Take home your drunk friend who hit you and I will go home with Tan.” Which our besotted Tan jumps at.

And considering the parallel between Tan and Fang meeting and Tan immediately sassing him and Fang throwing a punch leading to a fight, and Phum ruining Peem’s painting which led to mutual sassing and a kick to the nuts and a fight…I don’t know if Fang is a mastermind and connected the dots because these brothers need someone who will occasionally not be afraid talk back if need be and sees the potential for Phum to care as much about Peem as Fang does for Tan. Or if he just wants time alone with Tan and doesn’t see it. Look, I wouldn’t be surprised if Fang is secretly a long game mastermind.

Once they’re alone, Tan and Fang steal glances and flirt in the way that Tan makes very loud attempts at flirting and

Additionally, Fang is reserved like Phum, and seemingly as isolated as his only friends seem to be Phum’s friends. We don’t know if he is just not paying attention to other members of the architecture faculty or knows stuff about Kluen he won’t share. As previous parts of this narrative are folded in later episodes, we may find out. What we do know is he’s either ever only appeared alone or in connection to Tan and Phum and Phum’s friends. Even with the flashbacks, Tan points out that the head of the Fang, head of cheer club, approaches him alone and later it’s just Fang and Phum when Tan finds the group of guys jumping them. We know he and Phum adopt Toey who is bullied in high school. It makes sense why he’s potentially reserved about pushing things with Tan if Tan becomes his first real high school+ friend that he has outside of his brother.

Which is why by the time we get to episode 5, Fang says yes before Tan finishes talking. He’s been waiting but also wasn’t willing to be the first to put himself out there. And considering how much Fang and Phum seem to live in their heads and not in the world with everyone else, I can see why he needed Tan to be the one to commit to it first, especially with Fang’s later comments about not understanding why hanging out with him is a preference of Tan’s. I do hope we cross his “don’t tell tan how gone I am on him” bridge later in the narrative. Cause I think Tan knows, but also it’s nice to hear.

Let’s go back to another long-suffering pair where only one half really knew why they were suffering, and the other got a nasty shock, QToey.

I know the guys are all team if Toey loves Q and Q loves Toey then why is Q so hesitant? And I get it, but let’s talk about the double shock Q suffered and the potential layers of risk Q is facing.

It’s not just that Q is cautious with his heart. That is a factual truth. It’s why he ghosted Milk Frappe Boy, because while he fell in love with Milk Frappe Boy I think there was a deep worry, and a self esteem issue that the reality of Q, instead of Pencil Senior, would not be enough for Milk Frappe boy. So Q bolted and then deeply regretted said bolting enough say so to both Toey, not knowing the truth, and to Peem.

But the fact that he learned that Toey was indeed Milk Frappe boy at the same time he learned all of his best friends, his family for all intents and purposes, also knew and no one told him. And the way the confrontation is staged between Q and Toey, it is Q against Toey and everyone else is behind Toey.

And that, friends, that’s the real third rail for Q.

It’s one thing to know that he loved Milk Frappe Boy and that he loves Toey. And that is scary enough. The fandom loves to joke about how Toey is everyone’s little brother and they’ve all adopted him: and that is a correct assessment. But that means if Q fucks it up with Toey, he stands a chance in his mind of everyone else choosing Toey over him.

That fear doesn’t even feel that unfounded when everyone calmed Toey down mostly before Peem, Q’s true bestest friend, came out to be with him. Like Peem caught Toey before going after Q. The next episode nearly every character but Q (aside from Fai who is at all connected to this group) shows up to plan how to support Toey in getting Q.

And while I know my brain cell-less brain trust fully believe they’re helping Q, no one actually seems to ask what Q wants. Aside from Peem trying to get him to come to some that first night on the curb, no one ever asks. And that night all Q wants is to sleep in a pile with his four best friends, because that’s his family. Losing them is even scarier than losing Toey. In essence he’s lost Milk Frappe Boy once. He could do it again. But if they chose Toey…IDK.

We don’t know anything about their families really, aside from Peem’s lovely aunt and the fact that Phum doesn’t get along with his dad. And I get why when the focus is really on these large groups of found families (that are becoming one large found family) that the audience is really in love with. The bonds between the friends are just as much a part of the romance as the actual romances. Because the friendship is where the complications come from.

And while I can’t speak to mlm spaces, as I have never identified as a man, within queer wlw and non-binary spaces there are jokes about dating yourself out of friend groups. There are people you used to know who you don’t anymore because you dated someone in the friend group and were too new and got bounced. Or you date and the way it ends make everyone choose one side. Or, a person in the friend group has a crush on another person in said group, that is an open secret but when the person who was crushed upon gets a new relationship people get mad at them for not dating the person in the friend group who liked them all along because didn’t everyone know. (None of these are from personal experience I assure you 🙃)

And it doesn’t always happen like that. Sometimes the people figure out a friendship or a queer platonic solution when they’re not attracted to each other anymore. Sometimes they orbit around the friend group like two comets on opposite trajectories, occasionally crossing in awkward moments. Sometimes everyone gets past the weird. Sometimes no one does.

But that’s the risk that we’re playing in this show. I can choose the romance, but if it doesn’t work out, I am gambling this safe zone.

Which is gonna bring me to our last two pieces of this: one has had the most development and one the least but both are struggling.

I’m gonna start with Chain and Pun who are the most unhinged, gay yearning codependent besties that exist in the middle of the week and give Potae and Payos on Only Boo a real run for their money. (Both have lips touching earlobes and I don’t have a platonic answer for either) The thing is, I think both Chain and Pun are very aware of the mutual feelings. They both have moments where you know they’re aware but neither will do anything about it. And they are in the case of the story, the most embedded in one single friend group, and have the potential to explode their core group of five if things go sideways.

Now, they’re also the pair that has been effectively dating this entire time without actually dating. The ear biting and the blowing on things in the other’s mouth and the…I don’t have platonic explanations for their behavior okay? I don’t. Not naming it keeps it from being real though. It’s a collective hallucination or the biggest game of chicken.

Eventually, though, one of them is going to cross the line in a way that can’t be erased or the line redrawn. And it’s gonna have to be big because their friends watched them gaze longingly into each other's eyes for 20+ seconds and thought it was normal. Because this is how they are.

And that brings us to not quite friends not quite lovers and not quite enemies, Phum and Peem. The risk is, as discussed in many other metas, mostly on Phum’s side here and it’s why he spent the episode so hesitant. Yes he started off particularly entitled and rude. His and Peem’s relationship started as a fight (but so did Tan and Fang) and Phum feels incredibly comfortable with Peem. He’s definitely neurodivergent coded my Phum, which doesn’t make his assholery okay, but it explains his hesitancy to try new things and his struggle with making friends and expressing his feelings.

He’s got friends but he doesn’t feel particularly deeply connected to them. Yes, Beer makes time for him and actively seeks him out to give advice. He and Fang have a level of sibling codependency that hints at neglect and Fang protecting Phum at all costs. We see Tan approach Phum most of the time and while some of that is angling to get to Fang, Tan does genuinely care. But Tan is also incredibly loud which seems to be a lot for our neurospicy Phum, and Tan also has his large found family with Peem. Same with Toey, who Phum and Fang adopted long ago, and clearly Phum adores him, but he’s also the little brother of the art faculty.

And Peem is a very loving and giving soul and he makes time and space for Phum even though he’s annoying and high handed and gets Phum out of his ruts and comfort zones. And Phum clearly wants Peem to choose him, because Phum has already chosen even if he hasn’t said “I like you and want to date you.” He’s said other very direct things about how safe he feels with Peem and how connected he feels to other people by hanging out with Peem. And Peem is this safe space for him to go out and connect with the world without it being overwhelming and he even feels more connected to his own friends.

And that’s the danger that Kluen represents and what Phum struggles with. He wants Peem to choose him, but he also doesn’t want to force Peem to make a choice and not choose him, and then lose out on the experiences he’s building with Peem as well as a break in some of the connections he has with the people closest to him as Fang and Toey find love within Peem’s group. And so again, the question comes around, is it better to stay in this limbo where no one says anything and maybe Peem dates Kluen but I get to keep him as a friend, or do I roll the dice like Tan and maybe win.

I think it’s been a hard thread to pull because without the context of Tan & Fang meeting first, and Phum and Peem mending their relationship to become something akin to friends who kiss sometimes and don’t talk about it, and the lingering feelings of betrayal for Q by his friends (where they learned about his largest secret/mystery and NO ONE TOLD HIM) which are later revelations in the course of the show, they feel like different types of love stories without the mess of friendship blurring the lines. The story feels linear, because we start in a school year with the meeting of Phum and Peem, the connections between the other characters are older than this year, leaving some of their stories in media res.

And it’s an interesting core struggle taking a risk when the line between who you’re friends with, who you depend on, and who you’re attracted to blurs and the potential for rifts in your safety net are everywhere. It’s not the first show with this as a central tangle nor is it specific to queer television. But the reality of the deep ties that can exist within queer friendships and how they form deep supportive communities makes the stakes higher. And that’s why the friendships are developed nearly as much if not more than some of the romances. That’s where a lot of the risk lies for these characters.

Anyway, that’s nearly 3K of thoughts I didn’t know I had in me about We Are until today. But here we are.

#we are the series #we are series #we are #phumpeem #qtoey #tanfang #chainpun #thai bl #thai ql #gmmtv #gmmtv 2024 #we are meta #we are the series meta #queer media meta #doublel27 talks #doublel27 meta #I know I rambled here #sorry if it’s not coherent

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