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reidsrambles · 4 months ago

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An Invisible Locket

Chapter 7: Gravity

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader // Secret relationship

Description: You work with your best friend and your boyfriend. The only problem is, nobody knows Spencer Reid is your boyfriend of over a year. When you find out that Spencer's getting sent out on a case immediately after getting back to Quantico, impulses take over. (Content/Warnings below the cut)

Content/Warnings: [18+ MDNI], smut, oral sex (M & F receiving), PIV sex, unprotected sex within an established relationship, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of abortion (in a pro-choice context, though Reader ends up choosing to stay pregnant), minor mentions of alcohol and cancer.

As for the crime subplot, much of it is very canon-typical (referenced child abuse & grooming by an extended family member (non-sexual), violence, blood/gore, drugs. As always, please feel free to let me know if I miss any CWs!

A/N: This fic is obviously heavy on the Spencer and Reader relationship, but it's also got a significant Garcia best friend plot line and crime plot line. This fic also features an unplanned Reader pregnancy. Reader debates abortion and is pro-choice, but ultimately ends up keeping the pregnancy. If any of that isn't up your alley, please feel free to skip this fic!

Names used: Baby, baby girl, good/sweet/pretty girl, daddy, good boy (once), my love.

Words (this chapter): 4.8 K

Words (total): 29.1 K

Spencer and Derek are quickly treated at the hospital while the rest of the team assists the local PD in processing the scene and finalizing our part of the case.

Jeremy talked pretty quickly once they got him in custody. He said that his entire “message” was to warn against medical misinformation, hence the MO and the site they used to lure their first victims. In reality, Jeremy is just a narcissistic psychopath who’s got a lot of psychological damage and abandonment issues. He wanted total control over someone, and he got that with Mason. Shooting Spencer and Derek will just be another charge to help keep that monster locked up for a very long time.

By the time Spencer and Derek are cleared to fly, it’s 7 p.m. The team rolls into the BAU at nine. You and Penelope wait near the elevator as they trickle in and greet everyone with hugs and I-missed-you’s.

Of course, Spencer, Derek, and Hotch came up last. It takes every ounce of willpower to not run straight into his arms. The fact he has a horrible bruise on his chest aids your willpower here, though. Penelope follows everyone else into the bullpen, and it’s finally just you and Spencer alone.

After the jet left Florida, you and Penelope developed a plan. You knew you needed to get Spencer alone as soon as possible to talk. Penelope planned to hang around the bullpen with the team, keeping track of them while they grab their stuff and head home. If anyone asks, she’ll say that you went to your office to pack up and that Spencer already left for the night. No one’s going to stick around long, anyway. They’re all exhausted.

The hallway outside the bullpen that leads to your office is quiet. One of the night shift custodians turns the corner towards you, broom in hand, probably looking for spots the vacuum missed. He greets you with a nod, which you reciprocate as you pass.

“So, I didn’t leave work on time,” you say.

You push the door to your office open, leaning on it as it closes behind you both. The room is quiet except for the low whir emanating from the server racks.

Spencer’s standing directly in front of you, his face an inch from yours as you breathe each other in again.

“That’s okay,” he says, flashing you a tired smile. “I didn’t either.”

“When Hotch said you and Derek were—” You choke back your words to avoid breaking down.

Spencer nods in understanding but doesn’t speak.

“I was so scared,” you add, voice breaking.

He pulls you into an embrace, holding your head against his chest as he kisses your hair. Your bodies gently shift side to side, rocking each other’s bodies and soothing you both.

“I know, baby. I’m okay, though.”

You want to be angry at his attempt to reassure you. You almost weren’t okay, Spencer. What if he had aimed his gun a little higher?

But he’s here, standing in front of you, safe.

He also shot Jeremy in the leg, allowing Derek to take him down and cuff him. Another serial killer is in custody because of his bravery and quick action.

You lift your head off his chest to look up at him. You can see the fatigue in his face, but yours surely mirrors his to some degree.

Reaching a hand up, you touch his face. His facial hair is stubbly, rough under your fingertips. Your fingers trail down his jaw, across his lower lip, down the bridge of his nose. He simply observes you as you touch him, taking him in.

Bringing your hand to rest on his shoulder, you let your eyes do the wandering on their own, now. The overhead lights in your office are dimmed, which is how they stay overnight. The bags under his eyes are visible, but softened in this light. He always looks so incredibly beautiful, but when he’s staring at you like it’d kill him to look away, it’s astonishingly hard to believe you could have ever seen him as anything less.

Your breathing shallows as you give his face an up-and-down, gaze darting between his eyes and mouth.

Spencer dances his open mouth over yours, breathing you in. Before the tension can build too much, he presses a deep kiss to your mouth. Neither of you can withstand much restraint right now, and nothing could feel as comforting in this moment as Spencer loving on you.

Your hands slide down to his hips, pulling his body even closer to yours. The friction feels so good. He’s already semi-hard and you just wish you could drop to your knees, take him in your mouth, and worship his body. The urge to please him and to make him feel good is so strong, but words unsaid gnaw at your conscience in a vicious tug of war.

His body pressed to yours feels like aloe numbing the searing pain of a scraped knee. Being back in his arms, your heart would be bursting right now if it weren’t weighed down by the elephant in the room, visible only to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, searching your eyes for a clue. “There’s something on your mind.”

Correction: the elephant, visible to both of you.

Almost instantly, tears fall.

Spencer pulls you to his chest, seeming to ignore his injury. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”

He leads you over to your desk chair to sit down and he takes Penelope’s chair, rolling the few feet over to you.

“Is this about my chest?” he asks. “It’s just a bruise. No fractures or anything, so I’ll be okay,” he softly laughs, attempting to lighten the mood.

This is fucking terrifying. You can hear it in his voice, how concerned for you he is. He’s trying to look at you—trying to read you, but you can barely meet his eyes without breaking down into sobs.

“We need to talk,” you choke out.

Realization washes over his face. This isn’t about the gunshot which could have killed him. It’s something else entirely.

He doesn’t reply. He takes both of your hands in his—you hadn’t realized how cold yours were until now—and he nods.

Okay, swallow. Deep breath. No beating around the bush.

“I’m pregnant.”

His expression shifts a few times as he processes it. His eyes almost sparkle as they well up with tears.

“Are you–I–” He can’t even get a sentence out.

Spencer crushes you to his chest and cries. You fall into his embrace and continue sobbing, too. Whatever his feelings are, you’re still not sure, but to know that he needs to hold you is enough in this exact moment.

He pulls away just enough to plant kisses all over your face and neck, a smile contrasting his wet cheeks.

“Hold on Spence. Is that… Uh, how do you feel?” you ask him.

He pauses for a second before asking, “Well, do you want to be pregnant?”

When you don’t immediately answer, his eyes search your face with worry.

You try to figure out how to tie your many thoughts together eloquently. “I haven’t really had much time to even think about it. I’ve just sort of been in limbo about it with this case and with you being gone.” You wipe your cheeks with the side of your finger. “On the phone today, Hotch led by saying that you’d been shot but he didn’t know how bad it was. I think I nearly had a heart attack. Penelope and I have been giving this case our all. Now that you’re back, I feel like I can just breathe, at least.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we grab our stuff, head home, and get into bed? Then, we can talk about it or we can just sleep and save the talking for tomorrow when we’ve rested.”

Spencer kisses your forehead before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

All you can do is nod. The only place you want to be is in bed with him, hiding from the real world for a bit.

***

You wake up in the exact same position you fell asleep in. You’re pressed into Spencer’s side, an arm and leg draped over his body. If you didn’t have to wipe the drool off your face, you probably would have just laid there until Spencer naturally woke up.

Last night, after a very quick shower together (mostly for Spencer’s sake), you got into bed and crashed.

Spencer’s eyes flutter as he stirs awake. As you sit up to wipe your face, he groans at the loss of your body curled up into his.

“What time is it?” he asks, keeping his eyes closed.

His hair is a mess; his little curls and waves turned to un-styled fluff by his pillow. Your bedroom windows have translucent curtains over them, and he looks so peaceful and beautiful like this: in your bed, your white sheets and poofy duvet like a cloud surrounding him.

Twisting your body, you glance at the alarm clock on your side table.

“It’s ten-to-one.”

He stretches and finally blinks his eyes open.

“We needed sleep, but I’m still surprised we managed to get that much.” He reaches his arms to pull you back down to his side. “Who said you could get up yet?”

The anxiety in your body starts to build. You’ve thought numerous times already about how this conversation would go. You still don’t feel prepared. Your voice quiets to nearly a whisper.

“I have to go put your clothes in the dryer and start breakfast,” you say, unmoving.

Spencer shifts onto his side to face you. Reaching under your loose-fitting t-shirt so that he’s able to touch your bare skin, his hand trails down the side of your body, stopping just above your hip. His thumb gently rubs the side of your stomach. Any other time, this exact gesture would seem completely unremarkable, but right now, you know exactly where his head is at.

“You know you’re a horrible liar, right?” he asks.

“I do need to finish the laundry and start breakfast.”

“Yeah, but you don’t need to do that right now. You just feel pressure about this conversation that you know we need to have, and you feel the urge to avoid it.” Why the fuck did you start dating a profiler again? “Plus, you know I’m not letting you do my laundry or make breakfast.”

This man literally just got shot. You’ll be making breakfast, at the very least, whether he likes it or not.

His expression is so soft, his features still a bit puffy from sleeping. His hand brushes your hair off your face and cups your jaw in one sweep. He kisses your forehead first, then the tip of your nose, and lastly, your lips. The final kiss begins as pure as the first two. Chaste. You reach your hand up to his neck, fingers gliding into the hair at the back of his head, and you lean into the kiss, parting your lips. Spencer’s hand shifts to your lower back, pulling your body into his.

You want him, and he wants you. It’s been a long case.

But lust doesn’t erase the thick, heaviness in the air. The weight of the conversation you know you need to have.

As you pull back for a breath, you notice a small droplet of tears at the corners of each eye.

He pulls you back into his body, but this time into a big hug. You’ve been dealing with your own emotions about this pregnancy all week, but right now, his are extremely palpable. He lies on his back again, pulling you with him, into his side. You’re right back where you started.

“We’ve got to talk about it,” he says.

Your lips trill, lax as you let out a big breath.

“I know,” you say.

You’re still very conscious of his injury, so before you rest your arm over his chest again, you check in with him. “Is your chest okay with my arm like that?”

He doesn’t reply. He just grabs your arm and lays it across his chest. The arm he has wrapped around your body squeezes you tighter to him. He feels the pain of his gigantic bruise, but he needs you close.

Whenever you have to have serious conversations, you’ve found it’s easier, especially for Spencer, if you’re somewhere comfortable. Somewhere where you both have the option of closing your eyes or staring off into the distance. It’s easier to think, to talk, and to stay calm.

“I need to know how you feel about this,” he says.

“I don’t even know how you feel. You never told me last night. I didn’t know if you were going to come back, find out I was pregnant, and leave me on the spot.”

“God, I hope you know that I would never do that, Y/N.” He sounds so hurt and you begin to regret ever implying that he could do such a thing. “I can’t even imagine how scary this has been for you, though. Of course, you’d be worried that I’d have a negative reaction.”

He hugs you tight into his body again and kisses the top of your head, as if breathing you in to give himself the strength to continue.

“I love you so much. When you told me, I was definitely in shock for a minute, but as soon as I processed the fact that you were pregnant, and with my baby, I couldn’t think of anything else I wanted more.”

Your slow tears continue to drip down onto his shoulder, and his now-wet cheek has made a mess of your forehead.

You almost want to throw a joke in there. Something to lighten the mood; to escape the weight of this conversation so you don’t feel as though you’re being crushed by it.

Are you sure Penelope isn’t the father? I do spend more time with her.

You don’t even have the energy for your own stupid jokes right now, though.

Spencer continues, “If you decide you don’t want to be pregnant, I can’t lie and say that I wouldn’t be sad, but I would support you and love you exactly the same.”

You take a second to process everything he’s said. There’s no way out of this conversation but through.

He tilts your chin up to examine your face. His hands cradle your head, and through his own teary eyes, he wipes the wetness off your cheeks with his thumbs. He places a loving, quick kiss on your lips.

You’re safe. He’s safe. You’ll figure this out together, like you always do.

Spencer’s looking at you the way he always does. Like you’re his entire world. Even at work, in the quick glances no one pays any mind to, his eyes light up when he sees you.

After a few deep breaths, the word-vomit spills out.

“I’m just so fucking scared, Spence. Aside from the fact that this could put my job at risk, there are so many more factors at play here. This changes everything in our lives if we go forward with this. You know I want kids, but I don’t know if this is the right time. We haven’t been together that long. We aren’t married. My parents aren’t local, so would we have to get a babysitter, or would I have to quit my job to take care of them?

“I just got off Strauss’ chopping block. Penelope and Hotch just went and fought for me, explaining what a ‘valuable member of the team’ I am. If I continue this pregnancy, I’m going to have to tell her that I’m not only leaving on maternity leave—and, how long do you even get maternity leave for?—but that I’m going to be taking more time off because I’ll have a kid to take care of, and kids get sick,” your voice begins to tremble, “and—and I’ll have appointments to take them to. What if we have one of those kids who plays six sports and I have to give up my job to chauffeur them around, or something!?”

Spencer rubs your hand in his while you try your hardest to compose yourself after that spiral.

“First, with us as their parents, I’d be amazed if our kid even played one sport, let alone six.”

His joke has you both laughing, but the soundbite of Spencer saying “our kid” is replaying in your head. Our kid.

Spencer continues talking, bringing you back to reality.

“Also, under FMLA, maternity leave would be up to twelve weeks.” He stops rubbing your hand, instead intertwining your fingers with his. “Putting everything involving work aside for a minute, do you want to be pregnant?”

This is what you’ve been avoiding. Definitively deciding whether or not to continue this pregnancy is fucking terrifying. Since the test, you’ve felt constantly hyper-aware of your uterine contents. You already downloaded one of those pregnancy apps, and this thing is only the size of a peppercorn; a collection of cells the size of a peppercorn. But this thing is your baby, and you want to see it grow.

You can understand how, at an earlier stage of your life, this would have been the last thing you wanted. Right now, though, this feels right. Not only do you trust Spencer and your relationship with him, but more importantly, you have faith in yourself to be a good mom.

You nod your head.

“Then I promise you that I will do everything in my power to make the best of this.”

“I know you will, Spence. You know that a lot’s going to change though, right?”

Having a kid together means lots of change, and obviously you both know that. The question you’re really asking is, “What’s the next step?”

“Even before this whole pregnancy surprise, you and I had developed into something bigger and more special than I could have ever imagined. I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you in it anymore. We got too comfortable living in secrecy. I don’t want any of this to be a secret anymore, though.” Spencer’s voice is getting shakier as he speaks, his chest rising and falling faster under your arm. You tilt your head up to his face and place a few soft kisses along his jawline. He meets your lips for a minute of soft, tender kisses, and then continues.

“I think I’ve spent far too long worrying about things changing with the team…” He speaks as though he’s talking aloud to himself. He often does, processing something as he talks through it. “Change can make things better. It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I mean, you’re on the team and things have already changed between us, right?”

“Considering we’re currently in bed together and I’m pregnant with your child, yeah,” you nod.

He laughs into your hair, and you laugh against his well-loved cotton t-shirt. You’d buy him some new shirts if he weren’t so picky about the fit and material. At least these ones hold his scent better.

“I don’t know why I assumed that they’ll think less of me when they find out…”

“About us or the pregnancy?”

“Even before the baby, I had this automatic assumption that they’d have a negative reaction to us dating. That hardly makes sense, though, logically.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to the punch. “And before you tell me that my feelings don’t have to make logical sense, I’m well aware,” he teases.

You giggle. Relaying your therapist’s teachings has paid off.

“I mean, they might have some concerns, especially Hotch. But it’s not like we’re some fling or we’re just fuck-buddies anymore,” you say.

“When you started in the BAU, did you feel sort of like everyone viewed you as though you were a child wearing grown-up clothing?” he asks.

You shake your head to the extent that you can in this position. “No, but I was coming in under very different circumstances than you were when you started.”

Spencer has more than proven himself as a competent, capable, agent, even in the field. He’s told you about how poorly he did during his time at the academy, but you’ve always seen, firsthand, how hard he’s worked to hone those skills.

“I sometimes think that the team still views me like that, but I’ve never felt like they looked at you like that,” Spencer says.

You both sit with that for a moment.

“I know that you know better than anyone that you don’t have to prove yourself to the team, You’re not the 22-year-old new recruit anymore, Spence.”

He nods. “Morgan and Rossi will probably still call me ‘kid’, but I don’t think that will ever change”

You smile. They’ll never stop calling him that.

“Well, shit. We’re really doing this then, huh? We’re gonna be parents,” you say.

Spencer shifts onto his side to face you, slightly wincing at the pain as he moves.

His hand finds your hip again, his thumb stroking the edge of your stomach. His other fingers slowly slip under the waistband of your underwear as he grips your hip. When he looks from your stomach to your lips, you kiss him, beating him to the punch.

You roll onto your back as Spencer gets on top of you, neither of you breaking the kiss in the process. His lips move to kiss and suck on your neck.

“You’re already so perfect in every way, but, god, thinking about you pregnant with my baby just… does something to me.”

“I guess it’s a good thing neither of us have to work today then because I think both of us could use some quality time together,” you say. “In two hours, I have to start getting ready for my therapy appointment, though. Think that’s enough time to satiate us?”

Spencer kisses his way down your body, spending extra time on your stomach.

“No, but I’ll make it work for now.”

***

[8 WEEKS LATER]

“Okay guys, I need everyone’s attention,” JJ yells.

The bull pen quiets. She sent an email out this morning asking everyone in the unit to meet here at the end of the day for “an announcement”. You and Penelope have heard whispers around the office. People think JJ’s announcing that she’s pregnant again, which isn’t surprising given the fact that she’s the only one on the team with a kid.

A few days after the team got back, Spencer asked her if he could come over to talk to her and Will. She got one shock when you showed up with Spencer, arm-in-arm. The look of realization on her face when she opened the door was kind of priceless, though.

When you told her that you were pregnant, she actually gasped and brought her hands up to her mouth in shock. She’s been insanely supportive, obviously. Her pregnancy tips have also been a godsend. You probably wouldn’t have survived the first-trimester morning sickness otherwise.

Now that you’ve hit the 12-week mark, you’ve decided to tell everyone, both about the relationship, and about the baby. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, right? You can still hide your tiny baby bump for now, but it’s time to clear the air so you can shift your focus to celebrating and enjoying the pregnancy. Shortly after Spencer got back from Florida, you slowly began moving into his place. He’s had to move some of his books and you had to get rid of some of your purses and shoes, but this little peanut’s nursery is starting to come along.

“Thank you all for coming. So, we do have an announcement today, but it isn’t going to be from me,” JJ says.

Here goes nothing.

You step forward from the group and move to stand beside JJ.

“Hi, guys. So, I—uh, I know this announcement is going to come as quite a shock to you, but I need to tell you all that—,” your eyes lock onto Spencer’s to ground you, “that I am pregnant.”

Spencer gives you a private smile before surveying everyone’s reactions. The murmurs of discussion have returned, louder this time.

Dave marches right up to you, grabbing your face and kissing both of your cheeks before enveloping you in a hug.

“Another BAU grandchild for me! Brava, my dear!”

At your announcement, all Emily could manage was a loud, “Oh my god!” in shock. She comes up to you after Dave and gives you a big hug, rocking you side-to-side.

“Congratulations!” She lowers her voice to a whisper for only you to hear and says, “I can’t believe you’re fucking pregnant!”

“I can barely believe it myself most days. Trust me.”

With an air of cautious implication, Emily says, “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“Yeah, about that…” You shift your attention from Emily to the rest of the room to gather their attention. “Guys, there’s something else I have to tell you.”

Derek chimes in, “Don’t tell us it’s twins,” which elicits a few nervous laughs.

“If it was twins, you know Garcia would have already spilled the beans by accident,” you say.

Penelope, who has been relatively quiet throughout this announcement, speaks up to defend herself. “Hey! For the record, I have worked incredibly hard to keep this secret! My tongue hurts from biting it so much, so you all should be very proud of me!”

You hear Derek privately congratulate her with a “High-five, babygirl. I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, and I’ve been planning the shower for months, so nobody better start getting any ideas!” she adds.

“It’s not twins or triplets or any other form of multiples.” You make a vague gesture of circling your belly. “There’s just one bun in this oven. Depending on how well I’ve been keeping this next secret, this might be more or less of a surprise than the last one. I think everyone knows that I’ve been pretty single since I started working here, so I’m sure you’re all politely and quietly wondering how I found myself with child.”

You could hear a pin drop in this office right now as you swallow. Everyone’s eyes are on you and their anticipation feels like a weight in your chest. Then again, your abdominal organs are all being rearranged, so maybe your liver has just moved in on your diaphragm’s turf or something like that.

“No, it wasn’t immaculate conception. I was single when I started with the BAU, but I’ve become not-single since then and kept it a secret.”

It’s like you can see the gears turning in their heads as you wait for someone to connect the dots.

“We know the father.” Dave says. A statement, not a question.

As all eyes turn towards Spencer, Derek’s utter shock sets in. “No fucking way.”

Spencer’s face is slightly flushed, and he’s sporting a cute little smirk.

“How long has this been going on?” Emily asks, pointing between the two of you.

“You all might want to consider a different career,” you tease, walking over to Spencer and reaching out for his hand.

Finally.

Spencer answers, “As of today, 549 days.”

You follow that up with “Like, a year and a half,” which registers much better with the team.

Everyone remains quiet, their thoughts drifting to past interactions, looking for clues.

“You know, the more I think about it, the more sense it makes,” Emily says.

Derek picks his bag up from the floor beside him. “I think we could all use a drink after that bomb drop. Well, no drinks for Y/N, obviously,” he laughs. “You guys down?”

Dave grabs his bag, as well, and gestures in the direction of the elevators. “First round’s on me to celebrate!”

As everyone funnels out, you and Spencer trail just behind them. He kisses the top of your head and whispers, “We don’t have to hide anymore, baby.”

You look up at him and kiss him as you continue walking. It feels so damn weird to be kissing him in front of your colleagues like that, even though they’re all facing the other direction. It’s so open in here.

“Yeah, the hard part’s over. Now we just have to birth a child and raise them for at least 18 years. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?” you say.

Spencer nods forward, in the direction of the team. “They say it takes a village, right?”

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hinakazino · 2 years ago

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Meeting their future kid! || Angel, Aki

Summary: Meeting their future child they had with you!! Or, in which your child with them somehow lands in the past for awhile.

Context: This is before an established relationship, the kids a teen here. Oh and (C/N) stands for your Childs name.

Warnings: SPOILERS (mainly on Aki’s part), none, just fluff.

— angel devil

Honestly, he’s shocked. Literally thinking what? That’s impossible. Touching him shortens one’s lifespan! He didn’t have a lover either, humans and even devils didn’t interest him- So how is it possible that he has a child?

But he couldn’t deny it either, the girl standing in front of him looked like him. She carried the same features, like the red hair and had wings just like him. There wasn’t a halo though, and he could instantly tell she was a hybrid.

“Dad!”, his daughters voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn’t even realized that he’d completely zoned out. Angel had no idea what to say, but listened as his daughter spoke. “Dad, I know this is quite shocking, but I’m really your kid, my names (C/N),” she said.

It seems that from this Angel regained his composure, he didn’t like beating around the bush anyway. So he asked straightforward, ��who is your mother?” “Y/n,” and it clicks. He’d seen you around, and you were his recently assigned partner.

“Um.. you can ask any question you want dad, don’t worry I’ll answer!” your daughter says as she grabs his bare hand to take him to sit. Angels terrified and instantly slaps his daughters hand away. “Woah woah- sorry, I forgot to say, dad I’m immune to your curse!” she says.

His face shows skepticism, but he sits down next to her and he finds himself apologizing. “Sorry..What’s it like in the future?” he asks. “No worries! Oh well, you and mom are basically retired devil hunters. You still go on the job but you get 4 days off now."

He watches as his daughter talks with enthusiasm, and finds himself softly smiling when she says, “happy to hear right dad? Mom says you didn’t like fighting or working much.” Angel feels that he quite enjoys the thought of a future with you and his daughter, it was just truly too good.

Angel then wonders on, "what is it that you do?" he asks. He watches as his daughter responds, "I'm a devil hunter too- but you don't have to worry because I'm pretty strong!!" "Really?" he says. "Yeah! You know you still always have that look on your face father, I'm not a baby anymore," your daughter states proudly.

Angel chuckles at this, as he realizes that his future won't be a lonely one. He won’t be alone anymore, he has his own family. It was in that moment that another thought had occurred to him, my touch drains others lifespan so how strange is it that we were able to have offspring?

Before he could ask though, your daughters time was up. "Sorry dad, I gotta go, this mechanism that got me here doesn't last long," she says. "Ah, no it's okay, stay safe," angel says. "One last thing though! Mom said to give you this, she said it may solve a question you have."

He watches as his daughter hands him a note, and stiffens when she hugs him. Angel finds himself slowly recuperating the hug, hands softly placing themselves on his daughters back, it felt foreign to him. When his daughter had left, he had opened the note.

'From Y/N.

Angel I know you're probably wondering this, so what we did was ...'

Angel blushed, rather his whole face became flushed as he finished reading the note. He could tell that you knew him fairly well since this answered his question exactly, and when he saw you later that day he couldn't stop the thoughts constantly popping up in his head.

— aki

Aki was more so surprised he lived long enough to actually have his own family, but the point that it happened was pleasant to him. He’d lost every person that was there for him in his childhood. Aki felt a sense of warmth knowing that he’d become someone who was now there for others.

Truthfully the idea that a devil hunter lasted in public safety more than 7 years was considered celebratory and it was no secret why. Having a family on top of that? That’s quite the achievement.

But there’s a lot of questions he has, who is his lover? The mother of his child, what’s life like? Has a lot changed? What about Denji and Power, how are they doing? His curiosity shows itself on his face and his son starts off.

“Soooooo, dad like I said I’m your kid and it’s a lot to take in, but I know you have a lot of questions so ask away,” his son says. The kid looks like Aki for sure, he stares at his child’s face and offers a smile. Aki signals for his son to sit down next to them and a father-son talk ensues. “What’s your name kid?” he asks.

“I’m (C/N), and I’m pretty old now,” his son responds. Aki can feel a sense of annoyance, but not with any dislike. “I call you kid a lot huh?” “So you do realizes that you overuse the word,” his son says matter-of-factly. Aki chuckles and continues on, “Yeah uh, who is my lover?”

“Y/n,” and it makes sense, Aki’s noticed your recent starting at him. It wasn’t unwelcome, he could tell you were looking at him with admiration he just didn’t know it was much more. You were his recently assigned partner, one he was tasked to train.

“Mmh, what’s life like?” he asks, trying to sound casual. Aki’s face heated up as it started to settle in that you were a big part of his future. “You and mom are retired married devil hunters, both of you do get called on missions sometimes but it’s really just living and doing normal stuff now,” your son responds.

Aki felt relieved that he let go of his revenge. “How are power and denji?” he asks. “Uncle and Auntie are doing fine, they’re both still in the devil hunting business, you can bet they’re annoying the heck outta me,” your son says sighing. Aki can only smile hearing this.

Everything felt so perfect, he still couldn’t grasp that this was what his future was like. “You decided to be a devil hunter,” Aki comments softly, he genuinely felt slight concern hearing this since he himself has seen many of his coworkers lose their lives.

He watches as, (C/N), his sons face shifts to one of pride. “You don’t have to worry about me father, I know what I’m doing, I got taught by the best of the best after all,” he says. Aki feels proud to hear this, he’s glad knowing that this wasn’t something he pushed on his son. This actually made his curiosity spike again, what about the gun devil, makima, or the agency at his sons time?

“I- I just want to confirm some more, I didn’t force you into devil hunting right? I know I do dislike gun devil and all, what about miss makima-” Aki stops talking as his son cuts him off. “Dad this is my decision, for real, and I don’t know what you’re talking about? The gun devils captured during your time and it’s last appearance was to take down the control devil, Makima,” your son says while shrugging.

Aki couldn't help feeling confused, he had been given no time to ponder over this revelation though, as his son announced his retreat. "Sorry, I've got to go back to my time now father," his son says. Aki feels saddened by this but before he lets his kid go, he makes sure to give him a good hug.

"I'm proud of you, and tell your mom I'm on my way to see her," he says ruffling up his sons hair. He stand there watching as his son laughs and heads on his way with a soft wave.

#chainsaw man #csm #anime #Aki Hayakawa #Hayakawa aki #Aki x reader #Angel devil x reader #angel x reader #Aki Hayakawa x reader #angel devil #chainsaw man x reader

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ruiniel · 6 months ago

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HIIIII! i've been reading a bit through your blog and i've liked it a lot, the way you write for alucard is very sweet and i haven't seen much of him x male reader so could i make a request?

in my mind reader helped alucard along with trevor and sypha, but reader is a magical creature that lives within the forest and takes care of alucard from afar after sypha and trevor left so it was only just the two of them even after the events with taka and sumi. this is just for little context.

so, reader is pretty much very in love with alucard and is always to his disposition, but when greta arrives and starts to notice how happy he looks with her, reader starts to question if he's even good enough for alucard so even if he's at alucard's disposition he starts to drift away thinking that alucard may be better off with greta. that until alucard finds him again and formalize ofc 🥰

thanks for reading allat and if you're not interested feel free to ignore it, bye bye!

Thank you for the prompt, here's a little scene. I took a pre-poly relationship approach here...

For each other

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021) | Pairing: Alucard x male reader | Rating: T Count: 2K | Tags: self-deprecation, pining, angst, feels

A late, sunny afternoon. There is no one but the two of them in the large kitchen: Alucard has her pinned against a counter, his gaze dropping from her warm brown eyes to her lips, leaning close enough to taste—

They break apart at the sound of something thudding onto a hard surface. Alucard turns his head, eyes still glazed and heartbeat soaring from their kiss. He blinks owlishly at the sight of you unleashing a hoard of crab apples on the table.

You’d been gone for some time, and now meticulously catch the escaped apples and gather them back into the large wicker basket, all the while doing a great job of not looking at Greta or Alucard, staring at you. “Don’t stop on my account,” you murmur, leaning over to catch an apple about to roll off the table.

“...?” Greta untangles herself from Alucard’s arms, half-turning.

“Found plenty of these in a glade not far from here,” you say as you arrange the fruit. “Fallen from the trees, just there to rot if nobody uses them. Who would have thought?” You turn away, taking an apple and avoiding their eyes as you make to leave.

Greta calls your name. “Wait,” she tries again, taking a step forward, but Alucard’s hold is tight on her wrist.

As the door shuts behind you, Greta moves to go after you, anyway; Alucard holds her fast. “Perhaps…” he says, turning her gently to face him, “Let me speak to him, this time.”

Greta nods. There are many things to speak of indeed, things long overdue. Knowing what happened and all you’ve been through together until this point, it might be best for Alucard to reach you first. Her fingers graze the side of his face. “Bring him back.”

When the door is closed, you stare at the stone walls of the corridor, your gaze traveling up, up, up, to the high ceiling. Your ears are ringing. There comes a need to be anywhere but here.

Your body takes initiative before your mind does and then you’re pacing through castle halls, away, away, through tall grass, through dust and dirt until you find yourself…

“I’ll never escape this, will I?” you speak, gazing up absently at the remains of the Belmont Manor. You’re not even sure how you got here but take a deep breath, head tipping up to the sky.

So what? This is a good thing, right? Alucard being less miserable is a good thing. Greta having him is a good thing, and they need more Good Things in their lives. You want their happiness, would kill to see either of them pleased and living out their best days, such as they are. It’s all win-win here.

Then why the moping?

They don’t owe you anything. She doesn’t, Alucard doesn’t. Could you be such a supremely conceited dumbass that you actually thought needing them and being there meant you deserved to be a part of…

They’re your friends, your companions, the only people who ever cared. They’re your only friends, comes that voice within. So what, you love them no less.

You open your eyes, frowning at the clouds as though seeing daylight for the first time in your life.

You... love them.

Both.

You walk the broken grounds, through what used to be antechambers, through what used to be a dining room.

Breathe. Breathe, you idiot.

Fact is, one doesn’t always get what one wants — in your case almost never, which is just the bare truth and not you feeling sorry for yourself.

Well, you are, but that doesn’t make it less true.

Again, so what? So what, so what—the two words churn in your mind, an endless storm stealing your breaths without remorse. You drag both hands over your face. You’ve been out of it for too long, until you’ve stumbled upon Alucard, never lingered on what it entails, but now you know, now you see.

So, then, this must be jealousy. Feels great. Not only does God hate you, God placed a price on your head and sent their rabid revenge hounds with devotion and tenderness and lust crushed between their teeth, smashing inadequacy and resentment together in merciless jaws before biting into your face.

Someone calls your name.

You start, the breaths freezing in your chest. Great. You sigh. “You really have to stop creeping up on people like that.” Can you do this now?

“I’m sorry,” Alucard says, then just. Stands there.

Oh, no. You can’t do this now. You kick the dirt. “What is it, Alucard?” If you felt miserable before, now guilt and shame joined in and are having a day of it.

“It’s Alucard, now?” he asks softly, and you shake your head, avoiding his eyes. You’d slipped into calling him ‘Adrian’ not long ago. “Either way, I was hoping you could tell me,” he continues.

“Look, I’m just out here... for some time to think...”

“... which was so urgent a need, you had to rush out without looking back, despite Greta calling your name.”

You discover: when you’re hurting after someone, it only hurts more if they ridicule you. “Your point?” you pinch your brows, trying very hard not to lash out, not to be an asshole, because Alucard... Adrian doesn’t deserve it.

Alucard tilts his head to one side, takes another few steps, then sits down on the ruins—and doesn’t catch fire, a childish part of you thinks. “I know things between us have always been,” he looks you in the eye, “complicated.”

“Understatement of the century,” you stare up at the broken clock tower. “We’re going back to me asking about your point.” Your heart beats faster, and you know he can sense it.

Alucard watches you closely, kindly. His lips part. “You were there for me when I needed you. When I didn’t even know… what I needed.”

“... we did that for each other,” you mutter. “Alucard, really, you can stop this. I’m not a total idiot. You two are together, that’s great. You’ve been through so much, you deserve some peace of mind,” you say, even as Alucard rises and nears you. “And hell knows Greta deserves it, now would you please, please, leave it?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you’re begging. You never begged in your life, not even when you were held down at knife point, helpless and with your powers snuffed by magic. But now you’re compelled to because, because…

“I only want to remind you,” Alucard follows, looking at you, “that you once told me I wasn’t alone.”

Your eyes widen for a moment. You look away, unable to keep the misery from your voice. “Why are you going back there?”

“Why are you running away?” He is close enough that you’re unable to move. “I am also at fault. I’ve been absorbed by my loss that I failed to see you.”

“You still mourn your family, which is a grand pass in my book. Look,” you stare at Alucard’s genuinely curious expression. “I… you need the time. Take it.”

“You care so much about what I need?” His face is honest as he meets your eyes.

“Does that surprise you?” you ask, crawling beneath your facade, which you get the feeling falls short before Alucard now, anyway.

“I need you.”

You’ve never been the violent sort, unless someone threatened what you cherished. But now you want to punch him, because this… the implication is a joke beyond your wildest dreams, the ones that wake you up in a sweat with your pulse in a rush, where golden eyes turn red, with hot breaths in your ear and you can still taste—“Don’t.”

“I do,” Alucard looks up at the broken tower, then back at you. “And I nearly waited too long.”

He comes closer, a hand on your shoulder. You stare at it, then at Alucard, and you absolutely loathe your body in this moment, for all it wants is closer. “You’re with Greta.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alucard’s eyes narrow. “Yes, you remembered Greta, gods willing.” His face becomes colder, but his eyes are pleading something you can’t understand. “I love her.”

“I’m … glad for you,” you say, falling apart.

Alucard shakes his head. “I love her, and she worried herself sick over you, stood by you for days and nights, tending to you when you were wounded. She can’t bear the thought of you leaving here, wanted to run after you just now and ask what happened because she can’t stand to always see you unhappy. Do you see a pattern?”

“I just… I care about her very much, as you likely have guessed,” you mumble, “all I want is for her to be happy. For… for you to be… .”

“Then don’t run,” Alucard says. “Not from her, not from me.”

“I never run.”

“Then don’t.”

“I just said—nevermind,” you mutter with a smile, spent and needy and you would just…

“Come back inside,” Alucard urges softly, running those long, nervous fingers along your scalp, forehead pressed to yours.

You shudder, would purr like a shameless cat if scraps of your dignity weren’t in the way. “... fine,” you murmur, lips curving upward against your will, fears dispersing like shadows chased by the coming dawn.

Alucard’s hand cups your head again, but now it’s different; there’s hunger in the touch. You lean forward, helpless. Defeated. Aching.

You’re caught in an embrace, like the Inevitable wrapping itself around you and heaven or hell help you. There’s no escape, for you lack the will to fight this, then wonder why you would—isn’t this what… what you wanted? Didn’t you gut yourself over precisely this, wasting nights away, mind on Alucard and what you share and what you feel, what it would be like, to be close to him… to them?

“You make everything so difficult for me all the time, you know that?” you say with Alucard… Adrian’s breath on your lips.

“I believe I’m actually making it easy.” He’s smiling, pointedly.

You draw back a little and Alucard follows, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “Are you sure—”

“Are you really going to question me kissing you now?” he admonishes fondly and noses at your cheek, upper lip curling like it does when he’s annoyed.

“Fair,” you admit defeat, and with that, tilt your head just enough; feel Alucard’s soft lips between your teeth, Alucard’s tongue curling around yours, his taste and you’re grabbing onto the collar of his coat with both hands—more to keep yourself upright, in all honesty—remembering everything: the tingling, slow, hard pressure of Alucard’s mouth, the weakness in your knees and the flare burning low in your body. It’s just as… no, it’s even better than you thought, not as desperate but closer, softer, deeper. You can only liken it to drowning on air, on want, on taste and the sweet-heady scent of skin.

When you tug with abandon at his lip, Alucard brings you to his chest, a foot wedged between yours, hands ordering your hips flush together. All you can think of is how you shouldn’t be enjoying the manhandling as much but you desperately do, and would like more but this is too good a dream to switch for gratification now, too eager to feel him and your unspoken needs weaved together like bonds.

You release the collar of Alucard’s coat, thumbs drifting along his jaw, the determined, hard lines and smooth skin, the way his nose bumps into your cheek as you kiss, the way your own body runs hot and melds with his rising heat.

“Am I dead?” you ask, breathless when you slowly break apart. You stare at Alucard with a self-deprecating smile, the longing bare on your face, panting once, twice, only for Alucard to kiss you again.

You give up and hug him tighter, hands roaming and clutching at him, drifting down to his waist as Alucard twists with you and presses forward until your back meets the nearest wall.

“Wait... weren’t we... going inside?” you pant, looking beyond his shoulder. People are still walking to and fro, though for now you’ve been reasonably sheltered from any curious eyes.

“Right... yes... of course,” Alucard answers in much the same way. He wastes not a moment in dragging you after him, his arm tight around your waist.

#alucard x male reader #alucard x reader #ruiniel:fanfiction #castlevania x reader #alucard castlevania x reader #castlevania x you

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riddle-me-ri · 3 months ago

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Can I request Lupin iii characters finding themselves in one bed situation with the reader. I am a sucker for this trope :3

a/n: AAAHHHH omg anon, would you believe me if I told you I was literally already in the middle of writing these exact scenarios for each of the characters because the minute it hit my brain it wouldn’t leave, the absolute chaotic fluffy gold of the one bed trope mixed with this gang of characters…like yes, it’s perfect!! I know some would love and some would loathe the idea, and this is also sorta allowing me to get a handle on all five of them. I've taken in a decent amount of Lupin media (not nearly all of it…nowhere even close rip) that I think I got a decent handle on them, but some OOC-ness may still occur and thoughts may change as I watch more of the series and some of the films. Anyways, hope you guys enjoy, especially you too same brain anon

Content Warning: midly sexually suggestive content but nothing outright explicit, somewhat fluffy in some parts

For context: Lesson learned; don't let Lupin make hotel reservations (or Zenigata for his scenario). Now you're forced to share a bed with a member of the gang…and some seem more receptive to the idea than others. Reader is gender neutral and this is pre-relationship, but it's fairly obvious on both ends there's feelings. (also for Zenigata's part, you're an officer from another department so not quite an inferior to Zenigata plus you have known him for some time, hence why you say his first name)

Lupin the Third and Gang Sharing the Same Bed Trope with Reader

Lupin The Third:

In all honesty, you should’ve seen this coming a mile away. Lupin was the one who assured everyone he would take care of all the arrangements, and no one had to worry about a thing…you should’ve known that was way too good to be true. Yet as the keys were distributed, you were left without one.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” You lifted your brow suspiciously, eying the lanky thief.

Lupin winced. “I’m afraid not…” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and brings you closer to his side, some feign attempt at comforting you.

He sighed dramatically. “Oh, whatever will we do? Wherever could you lay your pretty weary head…”

Soon, his expression of distraught turned into one of mischief. You could tell as the curve of his smug grin reached his cheekbones.

Lupin leaned his temple against yours as he sweetly offered. “Oh I know…you could share a bed with me!”

It wasn’t exactly a secret that you were attracted to the gentleman thief, but you didn’t want to come off as easy pickings for him either. Lupin never hid his affections from anyone he was attracted to, making you an easily flustered mess of a human being.

Which is how you ended up saying yes, despite trying to come off as if you had no other choice. The others didn’t come to your defense either, so you felt stuck anyhow.

As you walked out of the bathroom in your night clothes, you were greeted with the sight of Lupin sprawled out on the bed, propped up to face you, and his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You didn’t know whether to chuckle at the sight or throw something at his face. You decided on rolling your eyes dismissively as you slowly made your way to the bed.

“You’re way too excited about this arrangement.” You commented.

“Maybe…” He drawled out nonchalantly as if he wasn’t softly kicking his feet at the foot of the bed.

“Well you should maybe scoot over, and no funny business, I’m exhausted.” You sternly stated, pointing an authoritative finger in his face.

Lupin lifted his hands up in mock surrender as he scooted to the other side of the bed, which you noticed faced the front door to the room.

“Okey dokey, nothing funny…” He leaned his head to the side. “...tonight.”

“Lupin! I heard that!” Now you did vouch for hitting him with a pillow, mostly because you didn’t want him to see the blush on your face.

“Ow. Ow. Okay, okay!” Lupin dodges most of your hits, just barely saving himself from falling off the bed entirely. “

You two eventually settled into your spots, after bickering with Lupin to sleep the other way with your backs facing each other. A part of you wanted to let him touch you, hold you, or even cuddle but knowing Lupin…give that man an inch and he’ll take a mile. You didn’t want to screw up the dynamic you had now…

Yet as you woke up the next morning to Lupin’s soft snoring and a lazy arm wrapped around your waist with him facing you…you can’t help but smile.

Maybe just maybe you could get used to this.

Jigen Daisuke

When the problem arises, he can’t help but lower his hat somehow further down than it already was. He knew this was one of Lupin’s stupid schemes, and he wanted nothing more than to just throw you his hotel room key, and he opted for sleeping in the car. Not that he wasn’t entirely against the idea, deep down, of sharing a bed with you.

Jigen’s woken up to worse things, people, scenarios…to wake up seeing your face would be a nice change of pace for once, but the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable.

Then, when you asked if it was okay for you to share a space with him…he really couldn’t deny you, and if you were fine with it, then he figured he could be too.

“Jigen…I know this is an awkward predicament, but I can’t let you sleep on the couch.”

“Huh?” He lifted the brim of his hat slightly to glance an eye at you. “Whatcha mean? I’ve always slept on the couch anyway…”

“Exactly! You should sleep on a proper bed once in a while…I know that couch can’t be that comfortable…”

You felt way too guilty having the large king bed that could likely hold a family of four to yourself while Jigen settled for the couch.

“There's enough space that we could be in two different city limits…”

Jigen chuckled. You weren’t wrong, and you are way too cute for your own good.

“If I come over there, will you let me sleep?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

Jigen sighed before slowly rising from the couch. You tried not to smile too widely out of excitement, you didn't expect him to give in that quickly.

But much like before, if you ask something of him, he finds it incredibly difficult to say no.

Jigen discarded his suit jacket, tie, shoes, and socks but stayed in his dress shirt and hat.

“Scoot over, I should be facing the door.” He waved his hand, motioning you to move under the covers.

You leaned your head sideways as you watched him try to light one of his bent cigarettes.

“You're gonna sleep with your hat on?” You inquired with a perked eyebrow.

Jigen grinned. “The hat always stays on...if I can help it.”

Fair enough, you found yourself eventually dozing off before Jigen.

Jigen stayed awake for a while and thought about sneaking back over to the couch, but then he felt pressure on his chest. Your head laid gently over his now rapidly beating heart. Your soft rhythmic breathing fanning softly against his shirt.

Well, he can't move now, but he couldn't find himself minding the predicament too much.

Goemon Ishikawa XIII

This man's face is as hot as the rising sun over Japan. Speaking of, was it too late for him to return to Japan for some more training or search for enlightenment? He could use a lot of the latter right now.

Goemon can't say he could blame you for choosing to room with him.

Lupin was far too eager to volunteer (which made Goemon grit his teeth), Jigen wasn't all that inviting, and Fujiko had already left for her room as soon as she got her key.

Also, he did find the issue…beneficial. Goemon would know where you are and be able to keep you safe, especially at your most vulnerable.

Not that he didn't think you couldn't handle yourself, but he just felt more at ease knowing your condition.

However, you weren't at ease with him sleeping upright on the floor in the corner next to the door.

“Goemon…please…I feel bad.”

He cracked open one of his eyes. “This is the most appropriate solution.”

“But when was the last time you actually laid down on a bed to sleep? And for a heist doesn't count!”

“It is none of your concern. I will be fine. Please just rest.”

“I won't rest unless you sleep with me!”

Goemon grits his teeth and furrowed his brows as his face reddened.

“N-Not like that!” You corrected, your own face slightly heating up. “I just…you should get some rest too…properly…please?”

Goemon closed his eyes with a long sigh as he seemed to straighten his posture.

You furrowed your brows with a huff as you turned your head to the side to face away from him.

However, you stayed true to your condition, with crossed arms, you were upright in bed and wide awake.

Goemon sighed as he stood up slowly. “Why must you be so stubborn..”

“That's rich coming from you.” You chuckled.

“I am only doing this so that you may finally go to sleep. Nothing more.” Goemon grabbed some of the spare pillows you weren't currently laying on and promptly formed a small pillow wall between you and the empty spot on the bed.

You looked up at him incredulously.

“A pillow wall?”

He nodded before setting Zantetsuken down directly beside his side of the bed.

“To refrain from any…indecent accidental touching.” He explained.

You couldn't help but smile as you shook your head slowly in disbelief. “I can work with that.”

Goemon hummed in acknowledgment as he got under the covers and faced the ceiling.

Anything to ignore the fact you were mere inches away from him.

“Thank you…and good night, Goemon.” You said softly over the makeshift divider before nestling into your pillow.

Goemon's eyes widened as he realized you were much closer than he thought if he could still hear you. Maybe his senses have truly progressed over time with his training?

“Good night…” He replied softly as if worried he'd already wake you.

It took him hours before Goemon finally fell asleep to the sound of your soft breathing and the warm idea of you feeling the safest with him out of the gang.

Fujiko Mine

To say Fujiko literally lunged at your wrist to drag you to her room was an understatement when she saw you didn't get a room key.

Lupin didn't even get a chance to invite himself with the two of you before you made it up to her room.

Fujiko giggled as she flung you onto the bed. “It's been too long since we had some alone time together, wouldn't you agree?”

Needless to say, you were both stunned but excited too to finally be alone with her for once.

“W-What did you have in mind?” You asked.

Fujiko giggled some more before leaning closer to your face with every other word she spoke next. “Well…I was hoping you could help me choose one of my new night gowns and then-”

*KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK*

Lupin whined your and Fujiko's name through the door.

“Don't tell me you two are having fun without meee…”

Fujiko groaned. “We are Lupin, such a shame…if only you found that secret stash of a hundred million yen like I asked…you could join us.”

You chuckled. You couldn't help but admire just how much she had Lupin wrapped around her finger.

After some bickering through the door, Lupin finally let up, and Fujiko turned all her attention back to you.

Your face was almost as red as one of Fujiko's teddies she tried on. You eventually went for the one that had your favorite color, having a feeling that's why Fujiko bought it in the first place.

If you were okay with it, Fujiko would definitely sprinkle your face in kisses as you two cuddled in bed. Her soft and playful touch was too much to resist otherwise.

It depends on you, whether you guys go to the next level or not.

If it doesn't, as much as Fujiko would like to take it there, she respects your wishes and just enjoys the intimate proximity with you as she wraps her arms around you and does what she can to snuggle closer as you two drift off to sleep.

Inspector Koichi Zenigata

Zenigata is fumbling with the rim of his fedora as you two stare at the king bed in the middle of the hotel room.

After more than half an hour of arguing with the front desk, Zenigata wasn't able to get you two out of this mess.

“I-I'm sorry…I can uh…take the desk chair. I'll most likely be up late anyway…”

“Don't be ridiculous, Koichi, it's fine..look at it, it could fit a family of five. Neither of us would know the other is there.”

You put a comforting hand on the tense man's shoulder. “Besides, you need to rest. How can Interpol’s finest catch the most wanted criminals without a good night's rest, hm?”

If you were trying to give off the fact you were calm and collected about the situation, it was working. You could almost convince the butterflies in your stomach to calm down or keep the heat in your cheeks down to a minimum.

“I-err…” Zenigata grumbled, unsure what to say. Mentally combatting between being professional or actually taking the chance to be closer to you.

“It's fine, I promise. If I had to share a bed with anyone, it'd be you.” You walked over to the bathroom and began your night routine as you let the Inspector think it over.

Zenigata almost dropped his hat at that claim. His heart swelled at the fact you trusted him that much. He put you at ease despite the hectic life he lived.

When you were both ready to make the final decision for sleeping arrangements. You went first and pulled back the covers.

You smiled softly across the way as you saw Zenigata follow your lead.

A dust of red tinted his cheeks. “I figured you'd get upset if I didn't get some rest.”

“And you figured right…” You got settled into the bed with Zenigata close behind.

“Good night, Koichi.” You turned over to your side and closed your eyes with sleep not far from draping over your body.

“G-Good night…” he softly said your name at the end, before he too turned over.

When his face was out of your sight, he was finally able to fully express how surprised he was that this was actually occurring. His teeth chattered, his fingers fumbled with the edge of the blanket. He was only able to doze off by counting the rotations of the ceiling fan…

Zenigata woke up to you mumbling his name. He was immediately alert, whipping his head around the room at what you could be drawing his attention to.

“Koichi…” You grumbled sleepily. “You're stealing the covers..”

“Oh!” He looked down and saw he was tangled in the sheets, and you were exposed to the cold room despite the small square of the comforter.

Zenigata panicked. In his anxious state, he must have been tossing and turning and took most of the covers. He quickly tried to unwrap himself and give back your share of the covers.

“Wh-Whoa!” You sat up when you heard a solid thud hit the floor.

You looked over the edge of the bed to see Zenigata somehow more tangled than before.

You perked an eyebrow as you giggled. “Need help?”

“Y-yes please…” He mumbled to himself.

So much for an easy night's rest.

#ri writes #lupin the third #lupin the 3rd #lupin III #jigen daisuke x reader #goemon ishikawa xiii x reader #fujiko mine x reader #inspector zenigata x reader

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dear-kumari · 4 months ago

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Okay, topical Malevolent ep 44 reaction. Based on the wiki, it looks like the characters' choices to not return to the windmill and to get the witch's body were made by voting patrons, which further convinces me that the votes don't improve or even significantly change the story most of the time. Whenever Jorthur (yes, Jorthur) make a Patreon decision they usually have to justify it in-universe with a little debate, and besides just being kinda tedious, the justification often doesn't line up with the story's action. The patrons understandably wanted to explore the hallways over the windmill, which was justified in-universe by saying Arthur was too weak and injured to climb back there. But then the only interesting loot on offer is a piece of the witch, and once they chose that there's suddenly a big pool in the way and the world's most stabbed man suddenly has incredible lung capacity (I checked, he's underwater for 3:20 minutes and is yelling as they're launched out) and can swim with a metal breastplate on and cut through limbs once he's down there. He even conveniently brought all his shit with him despite the potential for water damage, so they didn't lose their inventory by being unexpectedly spat out. (John doesn't even sound like he's all that worried about him drowning either lol, though that's a separate issue of him being a slow horror podcast narrator first and an active character second.)

I understand why you would gamify a story loosely based on a role-playing campaign, but as someone who already doesn't get the appeal of listening to other people play TTRPGs, I struggle to imagine what the patrons get out of this (besides financially supporting a show they like, obvi). It's not really like a role-playing game because you don't control everything the protagonists do or have the context you need to make the best decisions (in this case, the characters know they dumped the witch in a deep pool, but the patrons probably didn't), nor is it really like a choose-your-own-adventure story because you don't get to try the alternate paths and everything will lead back to the author's planned narrative anyway. It's good for the story but presumably not much fun for the players that the author has an outline and an ending set in stone iirc.

Since someone could see this and go "well here's when the voting really worked for me," I did want to be fair and find an instance where the voting mechanism (probably) led to a good story choice. I like that the seemingly innocuous choice to ring the doorbell in ep 33 leads Arthur to realize that he fucked up several episodes prior by leaving his name at the hotel. That was a nice reveal, and maybe the lack of context actually made the vote more fun. It would have been revealed either way by Daniel being shot at the door, but ig Arthur stopping him before he opened it saved his life or something, idk. It feels pointless to speculate on when we're never going to see what happens if he knocks. Ultimately the difference between that and ep 44 to me, a non-patron, is just that Arthur fucking up by trying to be smart and realizing it at the last second is a good story beat, one with a clear line between cause and effect. Jorthur faffing about in the halls when they apparently could've just left through the windmill and then diving with armor on to mutilate a woman's corpse because the author is on a birth imagery kick is not.

Uhh other thoughts, I guess I am pretty glad they're finally out of the weird yonic caverns, even if I can tell that Jorthur entering civilization will lead to more ~historical liberties~ that will cause me actual pain. The voice acting is great as always. I like Yorick. I don't like that we're getting more dad!Arthur moments because come on. Also personally I would not have named the cute owl sidekick after the heavily implied CSA victim with no voice or agency from Oscar's grimdark edgyboy backstory, but that's just me

#genuinely shocked that fans seem to love Oscar's backstory. truly one of Malevolent's lowest crassest moments imo #tbf I wouldn't be surprised if the shared name was unintentional after Peter Parker Yang #anyway. the show is extremely mid but I do enjoy it #And yes I went ahead and blocked the official account to be safe. I generally don't criticize art for the artist's benefit #Kumari comments #Malevolent #Malevolent podcast #Arthur Lester #John Doe

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yeah-thats-probably-it · 11 months ago

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Behold, the thing I said I was going to do! (x) Nobody asked me to, but I did it anyway. Huzzah

If you don't want to share your actual first initial, you can use a nickname or fictional character instead.

I really tried hard to make these sound as plausible as possible per the way Wodehouse usually names things, so I put an explanation of all my thought processes under the cut.

Also, many of the color category placements are based on speculation and best guesses. If you think you could make a case for the color you're wearing being in another category, you can go ahead and put it there. Category justifications and list of canon references also under the cut.

*EDIT: Some new information regarding the way Drone nicknames work has been brought to my attention. I'm appending the following instructions to the nickname section: if you can think of a food pun based off the name you chose, do so, the stupider the better

First names: This is pretty simple, there aren't that many posh British first names. They mostly reuse the same 15 or so over and over. I used this list (x) of canon Drones as my reference to work off of for all names.

Surnames: All of these are either real British surnames (found mostly here) or real British town names (found mostly here). From Googling, this appears to be how Wodehouse created most of his characters' surnames. I generally tried to avoid names that have already been used, with the exception of Phipps, because Plum really seemed to like that one.

When it comes to place names, he tends to be more liberal about making up generically British-sounding shit or swapping out the suffixes of real places. For example, there's a real town called Steeple Bumpstead, but Steeple Bumpleigh is completely fictional. So I believe my instruction above to mash two names together still squares with the Wodehouse school of naming things, Your Honor.

Nicknames: Did you know that it's REALLY hard to come up with random combinations of sounds that a) are funny, b) sound like plausible nicknames, and c) aren't too similar to funny sound combinations that Wodehouse has already used? Because I do now

Most of the Drones just have regular nicknames based on a syllable of their first or last name (Corky, Freddie, Algy, etc.). Rules of hockey nicknames seem to apply. This left me with a fairly small pool of non-name-based nicknames to use as examples. Other categories of nickname include "personal characteristics" (Barmy, Ginger), "random syllable followed by y" (Tuppy, Biffy, Oofy), "random syllables shoved together" (Boko), "food joke or pun" (Stilton, Biscuit), and "random thing" (Bingo). I tried to include nicknames from all of these.*

I first assumed "Catsmeat" was just a random compound word, which is where Fishbowl and Mousetrap came from. On further searching I found out that his middle name is Cattermole, putting him more between the "based on real name" and "smushing random syllables" schools of thought. I kept them in partly because I thought they were funny and also because I can easily hear Bertie in my head telling Jeeves all about his old pal Mousetrap's romantic troubles. I imagine there are good stories behind them.

Colors: As stated above, placements are based on memory, conjecture, and cursory searches of the text. Some are pretty easy; Jeeves likes neutral tones. Some seem more context-based or depend on the specific shade. Pajamas seem to follow looser rules for acceptable colors, so I didn't count them.

Clothing items Jeeves has approved: shirts in light blue, mauve, and "dove colored"; brown or blue suit; tie with blue and red domino pattern; brown lounge with faint green twill (The Aunt and the Sluggard); blue suit with thin red stripe (Jeeves and the Chump Cyril)

Clothing items Jeeves has NOT approved: Blue suit with thin red stripe, confusingly; green tie that gives Bertie a bilious air (The Aunt and the Sluggard); "cheerful" pink tie (Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest); purple socks (Jeeves and the Chump Cyril); scarlet cummerbund that Bertie tries to justify by telling Jeeves he saw someone wearing a yellow velvet suit downstairs (Aunt Agatha Makes a Bloomer (Jeeves wasn't swayed)); white mess jacket (Right Ho, Jeeves, but I don't think it was on the basis of color)

Jeeves seems to endorse blue and red on some occasions but not others, according to mysterious Jeeves rules. Conspicuous bright red clothing is obviously verboten (see: cummerbund).

There's little data available on green. He approved it once in the form of an accent color, but vetoed a green tie on another occasion. Might be shade-dependent or only acceptable in small amounts.

Lavender gloves and spats tend to show up when a character is dressed in formal wear. I take this to mean that it's a normal color for such, but possibly not for casual wear.

I couldn't find anything on orange, so I made a guess. I think it's a good guess.

I could only find one instance of Bertie wearing yellow: in "Jeeves in the Springtime" he tells Jeeves to bring his "yellowest shoes" and "the old green Homburg." Jeeves doesn't voice any objection in the text, but there's no way in hell Bertie got away with this.

The only thing I can find on pink (excluding pajamas) is the "cheerful" pink tie mentioned above. I decided to err on the side of conservatism and assume that all pink is a no-go, but it's possible Jeeves would be less hostile toward a lighter shade.

For expediency (ha) and because the clothing power struggles become less frequent as the series progresses, I mostly limited my color search to the short stories.

I cannot just casually make a fun little meme. It has to consume my life and turn into an entire research project.

And there you have it! Like share and subscribe, ring that bell (ha) etc. etc.

*EDIT: Some new information regarding the way Drone nicknames work has been brought to my attention. While I still mostly stand by reasoning behind the nicknames, albeit a little more tentatively, I apologize to Catsmeat, Oofy, Biffy, Pongo, and Bingo for misclassifying the origins of their nicknames. The former is actually a food pun based on a real name, while the latter four describe characteristics.

Yeah, that's right, my memes have footnotes within footnotes

#described in alt text #i searched all the nicknames on urban dictionary to make sure they haven't been used as slurs #to the best of my knowledge none of them have #you can never be too careful when you're blithely mashing syllables together #jeeves and wooster #jooster #the drones club #young men in spats #p. g. wodehouse #name generator #i've been hyperfocusing on this for two full days #i can sleep now

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normal-thoughts-official · 7 months ago

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Wyll's ideal reclassing is as a bard and God herself couldn't change my mind.

Listen. I do like that Wyll is a ranger if he gets out of the pact but rangers are a lonely class by nature and fuck that. And while I also get the people who reclass him as paladin, I think the last thing he needs after getting out of Mizora's pact is to immediately be bound by a new and different set of rules to another otherwordly being he's sworn his soul to.

And while I understand why the devs didn't do this, since bards are sort of a support class and there are many possible endings for Wyll where he is on his own, I am bound by no such rules because i know that the only real canon ending is that he is with Karlach.

So, bard Wyll.

For starters, the man loves drama. Look no further than his introduction, but I would also like to present to the jury the conversation where he tries to find Gale a Cool Wizard Name. Pretty much the only thing he ever has fun with anymore is his theatrics. He'd love every second of being a bard and using said theatrics to defeat his foes. Especially because Wyll is a sweetheart but when he's angry he is angry, and as a bard he gets to let his mean streak out with spells like vicious mockery and such. "Oh he already has vicious mockery as a warlock if you have the pact of the tome" thank you for further supporting my argument. He was made for this

But there is more! Wyll is a folk hero and his whole thing is that he wants to help the weak and in need, and if that isn't supporter class material, then I seriously don't know what is. Yes, defeating monsters is important; but healing people, restoring balance by weakening those who abuse their strength, entertaining and making them happy are all just as important ways of supporting the weak, if not more important.

And those ways allow him to be closer to people, which he is so desperately starved of.

As a warlock he sort of had to keep his distance because Mizora would make sure he never got close to anyone, either intentionally or just by the fact that the nature of his pact put people off (even more so after the horns). Unbound by Mizora, he has no such problems and can find a community, even if temporary, with the people he saves. "Oh but you just said you want him to be with Karlach and then he's in Hell". Yes, and there are people there. Show me a single place with more people who are weak and unfortunate in need of rescuing and respite. I'm not the first person to say this, but they actually have the chance to turn the House of Hope into an actual house of hope where people can rest and escape the horrors of the Hells. And those people would need respite and happiness, and Wyll "Drama Boy" Ravengard would be delighted to provide and find himself among them.

Also, if no one else, he has Karlach, and there is nothing he wants more than to see her happy and alright. I don't need to justify this one, it's text. So, again, supporter class makes a lot of sense in that context. Warlock/ranger is good for when he's on his own, but he's sworn to help and protect Karlach now, and while fighting side by side obviously qualifies, being able to heal her - make sure she's alright - support her in battle more than just fighting with her, gives them a deeper bond and puts him more at ease, I believe. Plus, they both deserve and desperately need some playfulness in their lives, so, at the very least, he can make her laugh with his insane Vicious Mockery casts. He kind of overcasts that one because 1- he has fun with it, and 2- it makes Karlach smile, but they're both op as fuck so it doesn't matter anyway. It's the closest they can get to lightness and fun while they don't find a definitive cure for Karlach's heart.

And once they do find it and get the fuck out of there, listen. They both deserve some downtime, okay. We're talking about two people who have been thrown into fighting nonstop since they were barely on the cusp of adulthood, and who have more trauma to unpack than years of life. So fuck going straight back to adventures and oaths and nonstop seriousness. Sure, Wyll would want to, but he also wanted to go to fucking Hell for no reason. Even with his father back, even free of Mizora, that's the only thing he can think to do with himself if you let him choose. And he deserves better than that. He deserves to rest and unpack what's happened and find value in himself beyond the Blade of Frontiers, to enjoy the youth that was stolen from him; and the man craves to settle down more than anything, even if he won't admit it even to himself other than the marriage aspect of things. But need I remind everyone that when Wyll had been given a death sentence - the tadpole - what he did was stop at a grove and teach kids how to fight? He thought he would do one last mission and then die, and what he did was that for once he allowed himself to stay and get to know people and be part of a community for a while. Sure, they needed him, but so many people did. And he was supposed to be hunting Karlach, yet he put that aside in order to have a place to belong, just for a little while, before he became a monster and lost his soul (which is fine, really. One way or the other, he knew that would be his fate. It's just coming sooner than expected, that's all) (this is me laying down Wyll's logic. None of this is fine and I'm screaming and crying).

As for Karlach, she never even wanted to be thrown into any of this anyway. Once they're out of Avernus, they will both need to rest and breathe, and that is final. And as a bard, Wyll can settle down. He can find a home and a community, have a place to come back to, have vacations when he needs to, have fun when he wants to. He will never fully give up being a hero - it's who he is, it's who he's always been even before he was the Blade. Someone who cares, someone who wants to be there for others - but he can and should find balance between that and being himself. And what better class to do that than the artsy, dramatic, drawing-strength-from-your-own-self-expression class?

Plus, as a bard, he gets to sing absolutely off the shits songs about the Blade of Frontiers/Avernus while being the Blade of Frontiers/Avernus. The comedy potential is unlimited. You want to see that. You agree. Don't lie to me.

Also, bards' spellcasting modifier is also charisma, so that's just convenient. I know that when you get reclassed in bg3 you can simply change your stats but uhhhhh. Fuck that? And yes, yes, he already has high wisdom because if anyone has a will of iron it's him, but I also feel like Wyll's off the shits charisma is a part of who he is. He is charming, both in the romantic and non-romantic sense. He enjoys being around people, he loves culture more than anything (I am once again thinking about his idle dialogue with Gale at the tollhouse when Gale says that they must have been very rich with all the trade from the Chiontar and Wyll replies, "And they wouldn't have brought just trade goods, but song, dance, and custom. Riches of the mind and the spirit". If that doesn't summarize Wyll's values and love of life I don't know what the fuck does), he likes being social and charming others. And people are drawn to him, people trust him, because he's a goddamn folk hero through and through, and not just because he's the Blade of Frontiers. So keeping his stats and using his charisma to draw his magical strength just makes sense for him

There's no other class that Wyll would enjoy as much, that would allow him to keep his favorite parts of being the Blade while also allowing room to be himself, or that would fit his current stats as well. Wyll was made to be a bard and I'll go to war over this

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #wyll ravengard #wyllach #meta #overflowing trashcan

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genderfluid-strawberry-of-doom · 2 years ago

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i reread hammer of thor and i decided to list out some stuff i feel has been overlooked by the fandom

and stuff that hasn't been overlooked (at all) but i HAVE to mention it anyway. because reasons

also it's not THAT long of a post but it's pretty long so i put a cut there

nobody ever mentions the 'thinking cup' like whyyy

alex fierro the cheetah and weasel :)

"the gender thing wasn't what surprised me. what surprised me was the way my impression of alex had slingshot and the emotions that had stirred up"

magnus mentioning that he had been stuck in one gender his whole life and that it didn't bother him except the way it was worded made it seem like he was unsure about it jsfjfisfidgkgd

i don't think it's overlooked but the scene in which magnus is watching alex eat and halfborn goes "there's no shame in being attracted magnus" and he CHOKES

(not overlooked at all but) HEARTH'S POSESSIVENESS OVER BLITZ <333

(DEFINITELY not overlooked but) "buddy" *proceeds to take hearth's hands in his own*, "what is wrong with my elf" 😭😭

inge being fucking abused by alderman?? she was beaten??? and the iron on the door locks is harmful and extremely painful to hulder??? THAT ASSHOLE ALDERMAN

(in context to inge explaining that alderman kept a patch of wilderness in his backyard bc hulder need wilderness to live and so that he can 'hire' more help) "she said hire. i heard catch" BITCH-

the fucking wergild. i have a lot of thoughts about that and all of them involve alderman dying

also hearth's mom doesn't really seem like much of a good person either? she didn't stop alderman from being abusive towards hearth or the house staff AND she literally just cared about her reputation. maybe she wasn't as bad as her husband but she was still pretty bad (parallels there between hearth and alex)

also parallels between hearth trying to stop alderman from taking andvari's ring and trying to "pull his dad out from a hole deeper than andvari's" and magnus trying to save randolph from falling into the hole in the ground that led to helheim-

hearth and samirah's dynamic?? they've already had a fight and patched up AND were stuck together during the utgard lanes chapters. soooo a lot

also hearth and alex's brief interactions lol

"just, you know, a little respect" "for the girl with the sharp wire? no problem" "there was nothing confusing abt the smile she gave me. it warmed up the office by about five degrees" I LOVE THEM A TOTALLY NORMAL AMOUNT

amir fadlan. AMIR FADLAN EVERYBODY <333

samirah being a girlboss. samirah handling all the stress. samirah trying to show her true self to amir. samirah braving everything put in her way with courage. just samirah <3 <3 (everybody in the whole universe should be in awe of her btw)

the scene in which they're sitting on stanley (the eight-legged horse) and magnus is nervous to hold on to alex but she just takes his hands and puts them around her waist <3

for some reason i had assumed alex had cut magnus's hair for the first time in the woods but no. it was blitz? hm

magnus's casual mention about utgard loki being attractive ajsfjfsi

taylor swift being dwarf music and prince being giant music?? (and that giant named tiny being obsessed with elvis)

an alex speech pattern which isn't much of a pattern but it repeated twice in the book: once she said (in response to hearth signing something she didn't understand. this was around the time when she and samirah revealed that alex would be taking samirah's place) "yes alex. thank you alex for being so brave and heroic." and then the other time (in the end when magnus is visiting her in her room and picks up one of her pottery projects) "no you can't touch it magnus. thanks for asking magnus" idk i just think it's cool

the trophy wife thing. sif deserves better tbh

"a girl who was rocking that wedding dress"

alex straightening magnus's tie or smth and magnus's inner monologue going "she still smells like wood smoke. why does she still smell like a campfire?"

samirah's wedding outfit?? (sounds gorgeous tbh. except for the hood which) also i have a related question. is the hood in place of hijab thing disrespectful? /gen

sif and alex dynamic <3

sif's gifts to hearth (pouch of rowan runes) and alex (golden garrote)

alex and most other shapeshifters make random animal noises and shapeshift to random animals when they're nervous

halfborn's "death and glory," mallory's "kill everyone," and tj's "charge" aksfkfiovdm. and the way magnus just becomes so much stronger when he sees his friends-

the scene at the end of the marriage battle thing when alex is all concerned because she thinks magnus doesn't believe that she was just pretending to be under loki's control and sHE'S TRYING TO CONVINCE HIM AND HE SQUEEZES HER HAND JDFJSFKFK THIS SCENE IS NOT TALKED ABOUT ENOUGH

alex canonically calling magnus "sunshiny" and RESPECTING AND ADMIRING HIM AND HIS HEALING POWERS. they make me weak

samirah and magnus's dynamic is not given enough love. they are figuratively SIBLINGS and that level of closeness is not recognized by the fandom enough

(also not really about the book but. the UK cover of 'hammer of thor' depicts samirah with half of her hair falling out of her hijab. which. who tf designed these covers?? like somebody needs to give them a good throttling)

there's probably more that i don't remember but okay here have this for now :)

#yeah half of these are just fierrochase. don't judge me ok #magnus chase #alex fierro #samirah al abbas #hearthstone mcga #hearth mcga #blitzen mcga #blitz mcga #mallory keen #halfborn gunderson #tj mcga #thomas jefferson jr #amir fadlan #fierrochase #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #mcatgoa #mcga #hammer of thor

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drysaladandketchup · 9 months ago

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5 mattdrai for the writing meme please

I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to handle this prompt, but I hope it's still to your liking, anon :)

5. things you didn’t say at all

"Hey."

Matthew really isn't in the mood for this right now. He was having a good time being back home in St. Louis for his first All-Stars, talking to some of the best players in the league, watching the skills competition, going out with the guys, and now the game is in a couple hours--

"Tkachuk."

Yeah, no, he's real. That's Draisaitl yelling at him. Well, he isn't yelling, but since he apparently is so hard pressed to even be around Matthew, it'll probably escalate to that soon.

I'd probably get off the ice.

Even if it was a joke--and maybe Matthew is willing to entertain the idea that it had been, coming from mister 'taken out of context'--it makes sharing the locker room awkward.

The thing is, he kind of likes Draisaitl. Admires his game, anyways, even if he is playing for fucking Edmonton. If Matthew had actually been drafted by the Oilers back then, like he thought, they probably could have been friends.

If he's being honest with himself, he kind of likes Draisaitl beyond hockey, too. Because he'd watched Leon's interviews, checked out his Instagram a little--he was curious, sue him--and because McDavid talks a lot when they're training at Gary's. Also, come on, Matthew's not blind. He hates the concept of him in Edmonton, but it's not fair to say Matthew genuinely hates the guy.

Right now though, this may be the first time he's heard Draisaitl ever actually say his name, and he wishes it was anyone else.

"Hey. Hang on." Draisaitl is in front of him now, stony and unreadable, and only then does Matthew realise like a fool that he has actually stopped. They're face-to-face, alone in one of the maintenance halls, the hustle and bustle of the arena a distant hum.

Matthew stares at him, not unkindly, because his mom taught him some damn manners, but not openly friendly, either. Not until he can get a gauge on what Draisaitl wants. Leon. It's Leon. That feels like the only thing Matthew really knows about the guy, sometimes.

"Did you want something?" Matthews asks coolly, leaning against the bricks with his hands shoved deep in the pocket of his sweater.

Leon glances down the hall, up to the buzzing florescent lights, running fingers through his hair. It's hard not to follow his tongue when it pokes out to wet his lips. Damn it, he has no business looking this good.

"I wanted to talk to you," he finally says, and even after all this time Matthew is still caught off guard by how soft he sounds.

"Talk to me?" Matthew narrows his eyes. "I didn't think you'd even want to be seen with me."

Which is a shame, because they'd look pretty damn good together. In his opinion, anyways.

Leon doesn't take the bait. "I saw that interview you did."

"Buddy, you're going to have to be more specific. I've done a few lately. It's the All-Stars."

"Before the break. I don't remember with who. NBC, I think? They asked you about me. What I said."

He doesn't need to elaborate. Matthew raises a brow, scratches the sudden itch at his neck. The air in the hallway is stuffy and warm.

"What about it? I said you were a great player."

"After that, though."

Leon doesn't need to elaborate on that, either. The intensity of his stare does the job well enough.

What did Matthew say again? I probably can't answer that or he'll get mad at me.

Yeah, because the only thing running through his head when he heard what Leon said was, Well damn that sucks because I wanted to find out if he fucks better than he fights. He remembers biting his lip because his brain unhelpfully supplied him with some tempting ideas that were not exactly family friendly. He's twenty-two, he's got hormones, what's he going to do?

But he was pretty sure declaring he wants to fuck a rival player wasn't going to win him any favours with anyone, let alone Leon. And maybe that comment irked him a little in the moment, but no one's opinion matters to Matthew more than his own. Accidentally outing himself during an interview was not high on his list of career moves, so he'd played it safe, locked it all down, and assumed that'd be the end of it.

"I didn't say anything," Matthew says.

This feels strange. Leon doesn't look pissed, he looks curious. Piqued, like he's waiting to hear something specific.

"I know."

"So what's your problem?"

"What were you going to say?"

Matthew cocks his head. "What, you thought I was going to burst into tears because the German Gretzky doesn't like me?"

Except he knows Leon's not an asshole. Not all the time, anyways. Not off the ice. Which makes it fucking hard to just blow him off.

"You were all over us that game," Leon says. "Kass was pissed. You're a fucking pest, what the hell did you expect me to say?"

"Is this you trying to apologise? Because if it is, you're doing a hell of a job."

"You never hold back on anything."

"Why the hell does it matter?" Christ, it's like Leon is trying to pick a fight.

"You looked like you had something to say." There's a hint of suspicion--of implication--in Leon's voice that makes Matthew tense.

"You think I'm an asshole, so I don't know why you care."

Maybe this is a prank. Maybe he figured it all out and he's waiting for Matthew to break down and declare, I think I could fall in love with you if you let me.

Leon shuts his eyes briefly, shoulders rising and falling as he takes one long, deep breath through his nose.

"I didn't mean it how it sounded."

"Yeah, I heard." Matthew's stomach rolls in ways it shouldn't. "I don't know what other context you want me to take it in, though. It's not even a big deal, anyways. I mean, yeah, it kind of sucks finding out a guy you like thinks you're a piece of shit, but it's whatever, right?"

"I didn't call you--I don't think you're--"

Groaning, Leon thumps his head against the wall and drags a hand down his face. He takes a minute to compose himself, staring up at the ceiling, then down between his feet, face screwed up in thought. Finally, he looks back to Matthew.

"You like me, eh?"

It's been a long weekend; Matthew's too tired to backpedal and try to make up some excuse. Part of him just wants to drop it out in the open and be done with it. Just come out and say, Yeah, the 'I want to take you home' kind of like. The 'I want you to make me scream' kind of like.

Just to see what Leon would do. At the very least, he probably wouldn't punch Matthew. He's not a glove-dropper, after all, and he's not so scary without a stick in his hand.

He tries to imagine Leon's wide eyed, slack-jawed expression. Maybe the little 'Oh' that would slip through his lips. Because yeah, 'Oh' would be about right. It would be the most embarrassing conversation of Matthew's life; more embarrassing than when he came out to his family and Brady asked him to rank his favourite players by 'fuckability'.

"It doesn't matter." Matthew shakes his head, clears his throat, looking anywhere but at Leon. "Look, man, let's just go back to beating each other up on the ice and pretend this never happened, okay?"

"No, hey, don't"--Leon grabs Matthew's arm as he pushes off the wall, fully ready to disappear and never talk about this again--"It does matter. Tell me."

Matthew would rather go dunk his head under the sink and rub the embarrassing flush from his cheeks. He's hot all over, from the beating in his chest to the blood in his veins. Where Leon's touching tingles with an intimacy they've never had. It may be the first time they've touched without the aggression of a game to justify it.

And damn, Leon's looking at him like he can read Matthew's mind, or trying to get Matthew to read a little of his own. It's all heat and intensity and a look that says, I don't think you hate me, and I don't want you to think I hate you.

"What do you want from me?" Matthew says. "Why's this so important to you?"

It's possible he imagines the way Leon's eyes flit down and back. They're pressed almost right against each other now. That must be why Matthew's overheating, struggling to catch a full breath.

"i just want to know..." Leon swallows the rest of his words as he takes half a step closer; a little too close to be innocent. That brick wall of a chest is pressed up against Matthew's arm, nearly crowding him against the wall.

"Know what?" Matthew barely gets the words out.

It's scary to wonder. Ideas are forming in his head--excited, hopeful ones. Matthew won't pretend he's never wondered about Leon; what he could do with him. To him. How his mouth tastes, how his hands feel, what it'd be like having him over and under and around and inside.

And Leon is looking at Matthew like he genuinely cares how he feels. Like maybe, just maybe, he's thinking, too. Wanting.

Wouldn't that just be the biggest fucking drama of Matthew's life?

There's still too much they're not saying.

Neither of them gets the chance.

Something clatters down the hall, followed by the echo of voices.

Leon lets go abruptly, hand dropping to his side. "Shit, sorry. I should, um... Never mind. Just... forget it."

He spins and walks away, just like that, shoulders hunched and hands shoved in his pockets. For a guy who never backs down from a challenge, it looks a little too much like running away.

But it's not like Matthew can call him a coward when he can't even get his own voice to work. Breathless, he slumps against the wall and tries to piece together what just happened, how they managed to say everything and nothing. It feels like he's been through a tornado.

Fuck, he can't deal with whatever this is right now. He cannot be thinking with his dick come game time, let alone worry about whatever the hell his heart is doing.

He stands alone in the hall for a good five minutes, waiting for his nerves to settle, until he finally has the courage to head back, falling into the bustle of players and staff and media.

He avoids Leon in the locker room as best he can. On the ice, too. They don't talk and they keep enough bodies between them on the bench.

Once this is over, they can crack open that can of worms again, figure out what's going on. But there's more important things right now.

They play the All-Star game like they're bitter rivals.

Matthew feeds him a slick pass that turns into a goal.

He skates off without a celly, and Leon gives him a "fuck you" with a smirk and a tongue between his teeth.

But it's fun. Really fun. And despite it all, they're both smiling at the end. Leon's smiling at him.

And Matthew wants to believe that means something.

#hockey #mattdrai #matthew tkachuk #leon draisaitl #my writing #asks #this fic gave me a hard time for some reason #I didn't want to to do the obvious 'the thing you didn't say was that you love me' but I guess it kind of became that anyways lol #really my first thought was just 'matthew never said what he thought about leon's get off the ice comment and it haunts me' I NEED to know

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rockermybuddie · 2 months ago

Text

Christopher Diaz

Another rant

If you disagree thats fine.

—————

Okay i might be overextending myself about this but its just itching at me ever since i saw it so im just gonna speak my mind.

And im sure the post isnt intended in a bad way or anything, it had good context at the bottom.

——————-

Theres a post and it says “Christopher is not Bucks biological son” (words might not be exact but pretty much accurate)

Obviously hes not???

But Buck loves Christopher and would literally die for him.

Yes it hurt Buck at the surprise party, for Chris and for Eddie.

He misses the kid too.

Just because Buck isnt Chris’s biological father (obviously like he didnt fuck shannon when they were teenagers) doesn’t mean be cant love Chris like hes his own.

Eddie did put Buck in his will if he died Buck would gain custody of Chris.

But Buck isnt going to make ang decisions about Chris because Eddie is still alive and is his father.

He knows that.

Eddie obviously knows how much Christopher loves Buck because anytime he couldn’t get through to his own son he called Buck.

So yeah they were both almost equally hurt at the surprise party when Christopher showed no reaction to it. (Understandably, seeing the doppelgänger of your dead mom with your dad??? Couldn’t imagine. (I dont have a dad))

But also Helena (or how ever you spell her name? Sorry) she could of at least carried the laptop over there, show Chris that Eddie is trying in the way he knows how right now.

Christopher also knows Buck isnt his biological father but he still loves Buck like one. He knows Buck is his father’s best friend.

——-

If you also saw the post then you know what it said at the bottom and if the creator of the post sees this,

I mean absolutely no hate or disrespect towards your post or anything.

The only reason i made this is because i was adopted into a family in America. My mom flew to China to get me when i was a baby.

I’m not gonna get into my whole adoptive story on the internet.

Anyways maybe just seeing the “buck isnt chris’s biological father” kind of just made me a little mad because for someone to love you as one of their own they dont need to be biological.

Or to care for you as much as Buck cares for Chris, he/they dont need to be biological.

Love comes from everyone no matter what time they came into your life.

If they were there when you was a baby or if they came into your life when you were 6 or 15. They can still love and consider you one of their own bio or not.

Obviously with no legal stuff they cant make decisions for you if you are a minor.

———-

I’m not sure if theres people out there who think Buck is Chris’s bio dad and thats why the post was made ?

Not sure either way i just wanted to spill what was on my mind after seeing it.

#911 #911 fandom #911 cast #911 fox #evan buckley #oliver stark #911 abc #eddie diaz #ryan guzman #christopher diaz #911 rant #911 discussion

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autistic-bowlcut-swag · 1 year ago

Text

Propaganda under the cut

Jeff Andonuts

-Overall characterized as pretty awkward, the kid first introduces himself by listing his flaws (including “I’m very nearsighted” among them, the silly, that’s a neutral trait!) and then saying he wished they could be friends when he literally just saved people that called him over there telepathically with the phrase “friend we never met” in there! Almost like he was rattling off a memorized script in a way and I say this in the most awww look how hard he’s trying way possible. He’s pretty implied to be nocturnal as he works during the night and his specialty is fixing busted technology. He’s very good at it too! His dad was also a scientist but their relationship is interesting? Anyway, tldr his dad was always so absorbed in his work that they hadn’t seen each other in 10 years while Jeff was at boarding school and for context, Jeff is 13. Relationship with mother unknown. Do not ask. We don’t know either. Anyway, he’s got the autistic swag in the tbh stares at you blankly way. You can’t even see his eyes in most official art, so he’s just peak -_- to me right behind Frisk Undertale. Did anyone submit them too? Maybe I will if I have the energy.

-saved my life while i was playing this game also he has guns and can make a lot of gadgets he cannot crit but also cannot miss and hes super genius

Peter

-pathetic below average guy at the beginning of the story, everyone treats him like shit. then he gets possessed by an angel and he has to go kill god. he meets two guys and he falls in love with one of them and through the power of love and friendship and gay people they save the universe and also peter kind of becomes god. anyways its never outright said that hes autistic but he very clearly is and ive never met a single person in the fandom who disagrees. his special interest is rocks and he used to have a job sorting them at the rock factory. he has a pet lizard named lizard. hes still a pretty below average guy throughout all of the god killing stuff also but hes pretty nice and his humanity single handedly changed the narrative. he had gay sex

-autism swag . he likes rocks

-OHHHH BOY. Peter Sqloint was just a dude with a lizard until the archangel of retribution Exandroth possessed him. then he met Rumi (WHO HE WILL LATER HAVE SEX WITH AND MARRY BECAUSE OF HIS AUTISTIC SWAG) and Thanatos (big robot bitch who likes the lizard and hates Gods) (they all hate gods) (they kill gods). Anyway Peter Sqloint is THE Autistic with a Bowl Cut ever :3 OH he beats exandroth in a battle in his mind after he's stabbed by Thanatos (it wasnt his fault, a god put a spell on him). He comes back though, so it's chill

#jeff andonuts #earthbound #mother 2 #just roll with it peter #peter sqloint #jrwi apotheosis #just roll with it #off topic question but how would someone go about starting just roll with it?#asking for a friend 👀#autistic bowlcut swag tournament

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bomberqueen17 · 4 months ago

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lose not a moment

I have hit upon the novel idea of listening to audiobooks for my long car rides and tedious solo work sessions, since i can't follow or understand podcasts. I can't really follow audiobooks either, historically, but if I listen to a book I've read before, I've had decent success at still following it. I exhausted the meager supplies of the Buffalo library, however, which while it has a substantial physical collection, is shockingly lacking in all digital options, and the audiobook selection is downright threadbare.

I started with Murderbot, which being both familiar and novellas, was very accessible. Kevin R. Free is a great narrator, but i am occasionally perturbed by one particular turn of phrase I now can't recall, but which Wells is fond of using, and Free mispronounces every time. i can't remember but it's some homonym, like using the wrong pronunciation of "read", which makes the admittedly slightly-nonstandard phrase nonsense. I genuinely can't recall what it is. Anyway this is small potatoes, and I do recommend them if you like audiobooks.

I moved on to a Lord Peter Wimsey book, because it was short. I'd only read the one, the first one, which has a sort of sickening antisemitism but it's like...... part of the setting, and is not really borne out by the plot. (The murder victim is a Jewish man, and there's all kinds of horrible shit said by all kinds of characters, some of whom are meant to be sympathetic, but all we are shown of the man himself is that he was actually a pretty good dude and our POV characters are heartily sorry for his fate. But his Jewishness is part of the motive, his defeated romantic rival being so horribly put-out by having lost to a Jew; and it's part of how the plot is unraveled, an unwitting witness later commenting about that dead [slur for Jew-- actually an archaic slur i'd never even heard before but obvious from context, so i guess at least it's not one of the gratingly familiar ones but it's obvious what it is] he'd seen, which is proof of the corpse's identity even after he can no longer be visually identified due to various events. Ugh. It's not that the book's not worth reading, it's clearly meant to be part of the setting and is absolutely faithful to the period, contemporary with which it was written, but boy it is really gross to kind of slog through that.)

I detoured to listen to the Dark is Rising series by Susan Cooper, which I had read and loved as a child but remembered only poorly. It was well-read, and the narrator had notably excellent Welsh, which was gratifying as my child-self had really puzzled over some of the place names in the third book and beyond. (I had certainly never pronounced the dog Cafall's name correctly, despite having read the pronunciation guide assiduously.) But it was soon over.

Anyway after that I hit upon the idea of listening to the audiobooks of Patrick O'Brian's series about Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin, which I read voraciously when I was a child and my parents brought them all home from the library. I read the series possibly out of order, I don't recollect now, and I wasn't sure how well I'd remember it. I had certainly been too young to understand a great deal of it, and I remember puzzling over the diagram in the frontispiece of the sails with near-despair.

I started in on Master & Commander, the first book, and I remembered the initial scene, I remembered how Stephen and Jack met, I remembered the broad strokes of all the events, and was enchanted by revisiting it. I then listened to the second one, Post Captain, and found it harder going; it was a different narrator, who makes little mouth noises sometimes and whose voices for the characters I like less. Stephen Vance is the narrator I like more, though I don't really like how he does the women's voices; he makes Diana Villiers sound downright ridiculous. But he's very good at the distinct voices for the major characters and I quite like him otherwise.

I haven't bothered consulting a diagram; I know which sail is which just well enough (not well at all) to follow the action, and it turns out I don't really need to know what a cross-catharping is at all. (I mean, I looked it up just now, but it didn't matter.)

Book 3, HMS Surprise, has another situation with a Jewish character facing antisemitic disapprobation, and it is sort of a refreshing contrast to Lord Peter Wimsey that the POV character of the moment, Stephen Maturin, despite (spoilers) imminently killing the man in a duel, shuts down the person who is saying the most antisemitic things, saying that he has a particular fondness for Our Lady and since she was a Jewess he cannot believe to consider himself superior to her people in any way. Earlier the character is also denigrated but by such an unsympathetic character that the reader is pretty clearly meant to find her ridiculous. Still, it is there, but about on par with how Catholics are spoken of in the series. Which is no small thing; I have currently put the book down because a character in book four has just discovered Stephen is Catholic and is singing an offensive song about it at him and I needed a moment to not listen to that.

Anyway-- I had not thought I remembered the books well at all, and indeed I don't, many of the turns of the plot are total surprises to me, and I am in suspense for most of the action scenes, but I am occasionally dumbfounded to find turns of phrase that have been in my vocabulary entire this whole time. I read these books at a tender age and some of their philosophies, some of their turns of phrase, are deeply embedded in me, in my foundations indeed. I do not recommend them unreservedly, and I also think I will not seek out the current fandom for them particularly, as I don't think that the fandom takes on these characters will jive particularly well with my deep and ancient love for them. I read these books quite before I was capable of any real critical thought, and I do not think the fannish take will sit well with that early impression.

We'll see, though.

I do think I owe O'Brian a lot in how I write action. He does it so directly, with such immediacy-- so clearly, but with occasional bits of real poetry, some evocative touches that make it so vibrant-- that's what I strive to do as well. I don't know that I succeed, but if I ever do, I surely owe him.

But anyway-- part of the point of this post is that the Buffalo library only had books one, two, and eleven as audiobooks, and did not have ebooks of more than three or four of the books either. I was complaining of this, and my mother reminded me that anyone resident in NY State can get a digital library card to the New York Public Library, and I said I knew that but not how to do it. So, on Sunday afternoon while the various family was doing various active things and she and I were sitting at the picnic table, she knitting and I sewing, she said "open your Libby app. Select add a library. Type in New York. Select the New York Public Library. See what happens."

One of the options there was "I would like to request a card", and tapping this brought me to a screen where I was invited to give them my mailing address, which is indeed in New York State legitimately, and immediately they granted me a provisional library card with a one-year expiration date.

They have the entire series in audiobook, and ready to borrow, no holds.

I also had said I wanted to get a card at the library near the farm, and my sister is on the board of that; Mom asked her, when she next came by, and she said "oh let me look on the website, I'm not sure what you need," and in a moment asked me to remind her of my phone number, and in a moment after that I had an email in my inbox with my Upper Hudson library card, as she had filled out the application for me using her own address (where I do legitimately reside) and my birthdate, which of course she knows.

So now I have access to the riches of Upper Hudson as well, which while having one fewer library in its system than Buffalo, has at first glance about ten times as many digital titles.

So.

Anyway, there are twenty books in this series so I'm probably set for the rest of the summer.

I have no real deep observations on the books, except to admire the sharp character-work-- just such round characters, all around, major and minor, even if O'Brian sometimes loses track of minor characters here and there. How can I really complain? The ones he keeps sharp watch on are so delightful, so real, so self-propelled. I was worried, this book 4, that none of my favorites were by; Aubrey and Maturin are together, but are bound for the far side of the world, in great haste, with none of their regular recurrent comrades. When who should appear, to my wondering eyes, but the incomparable coxswain Barret Bonden, who in the first book very politely turns down Aubrey's offer to rate him an officer, in the third book finally reveals why when Stephen, hands injured, tries to dictate a letter to him ("I can't write a word," he admits. "I can read, near enough, can puzzle out the watch list, but I can't write a stroke.") Later in the third book, Stephen teaches him to write, sitting on one of the platforms among the rigging with him and dictating poetry, breaking off to exclaim when he sees an albatross-- Bonden, diligently, writing, "I see the albatross-- that don't rhyme, doctor, is there more to the line?" And here he is in the fourth, both a plot device and a welcome face.

I had despaired of him, but here too is my favorite. Early on a midshipman, the senior mid rated master's mate, then finally rated a lieutenant, and now an acting captain he turns up all unlooked-for in the fourth book, TOM PULLINGS, I don't know why I love him so but I do, what a cheerful and willing creature. I don't remember if anything terrible happens to him later, don't tell me. (I did spoil myself for a few characters, pulled up the wiki for a moment to remind myself who somebody was and then read too far. Nooooooo alas.)

Anyway I am much enjoying them, but am falling prey to my usual problem, wherein when I am reading a book I only want to do that and do not want to do other things, like work or sleep or other hobbies, so I may have to set limits for myself on how long I can listen in a day, or at least take breaks.

#jack aubrey #stephen maturin #lord peter wimsey #murderbot #new york public library #antisemitism

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