#but his movies tend to lack heart

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - non/con, afab!reader, kidnapping, captivity, semi-public sex, and wildly unbalanced power dynamics.

Valentine's Day is Satoru's favorite.

Suguru likes Halloween more (albeit, mostly the part where they dress you up in a slutty costume and fuck you with a B-rated horror movie playing in the background), but he's got a soft spot for anything that makes Satoru happy. You think something about the shamelessness of it all appeals to him - pale pink stuffed animals tall enough to reach your waist, boxes of sickeningly sweet chocolate that you'll never get around to finishing, gifts that serve no other purpose than to affirm your love for him. Of course, you can't actually get either of them much of anything, not with so many locks on the apartment door, but he and Suguru still do their best to make the day special.

Your morning starts early. Suguru sweeps you out of bed while Satoru sleeps in, holding his hand over your mouth as he explains exactly what'll happen if you ruin his little surprise. Predictably, it involves lingerie - all pink silk and red lace and unnecessary frills. He gives you a white teddy bear before taking you back to the bedroom, a heart-shaped pillow embroidered with a cursive 'Be Mine' cradled in its plush arms.

A few minutes later, he'll guide your hips as you grind against its expressionless face, Satoru's cock lodged halfway down your throat.

If you're lucky, they'll get called away shortly after the first round - to tend to their students or to handle some curse, you aren't picky when it comes to what gets them away from them. If you're not lucky, Suguru will suck love-bites into your chest while Satoru makes breakfast, occasionally calling you into the kitchen to try pancake batter or grimace while he licks whip-cream directly off of your cheek. You aren't allowed to hold cutlery, not after trying to gauge out Satoru's eyes with a butter knife shortly after your abduction, so they'll take turns feeding you before leaving for the day, Satoru pressing kisses into your cheeks and promising he'll be back soon while Suguru laughs and shakes his head.

While they're gone, you'll wander aimlessly, picking at your meager list of chores (vacuuming, laundry, etc. - enough to keep you sane, but not enough to stave off the restlessness) and generally lamenting your pitiful existence. When you find the teddy bear thrown haphazardly into a corner of their bedroom, you'll consider trying to wash it before tearing its seams open with a pair of safety scissors and hiding its disparate pieces in different places around the apartment for lack of a better way to get rid of them. You'll try to sleep the time away, but you won't be able to.

It's dark by the time they get home. Suguru made reservations months ago that you're already running late for, so you'll be allowed to dress yourself for the first time in as long as you can remember. Going out is treated like a privilege, something you ought to be thankful for, but it's hard to be appreciative with Satoru's arm wrapped so snugly around your waist, with Suguru hovering behind you, occasionally resting a hand on the back of your neck whenever you gaze lingers a little too long on any one thing. Satoru slips the hostess a bill that might've made your mouth water a little over a year ago, and you're seated at a table on the outskirts of the dining area, well hidden from prying eyes. They'll make conversation that you try and fail not to join in on, and after ordering dessert, Satoru's hand will slip under the hem of your dress. You'll ask to leave before the food reaches the table, but Suguru will insist on staying until he's gotten his money's worth and you've cum on Satoru's fingers more times than you'd care to count. When you're red-faced and teary-eyed, the waiter will ask if you're alright, and Satoru will pull you into his side while Suguru tells him that you've always been a little nervous in public.

You won't make it home before things boil over. Suguru will park somewhere seclusive as Satoru eats you out, knee deep in the backseat. When Suguru joins you, you'll finally get your present - double-penetration, both holes stuffed while they take turns filling your mouth with their tongues. You'll sob and scream and beg them to stop, say that it's too much, that you're already overstimulated, but they'll insist on making sure you get everything they have to give you. They've been looking forward to this all year, after all. It'd be a shame not to let you enjoy such a thoughtful gift to the fullest.

Exhausted and humiliated, you'll fade in and out of consciousness as Satoru carries you upstairs and Suguru runs a bath, shyly admitting that their present might've been a little self-serving. It's only after they get you tucked into bed, Satoru already excitedly telling Suguru all of his many, many plans for a quickly approaching White Day, that you'll fade into the mercy of a dreamless, thoughtless sleep.

[baeshijima]

mr reca fic where he’s suffering a creative slump due to the lack of good scripts (by his standards) from various screenwriters. he feels himself going positively insane with every script he’s given.

it’s too dull. it’s too predictable. this one has no creative flair whatsoever!! that one just doesn’t spark enough imagination!!!

it’s troublesome, really. some think he’s really going through it, while others believe the scripts he’s been given won’t bring him enough money. but really, who cares about monetary value when it is he who cannot even begin to picture himself enjoying the process that comes with each script?

and so that is how he finds himself wandering around aimlessly. sometimes the outdoors is necessary for the mind, and who knows? perhaps he really will find something that will give him a spark. hmm, those trees are looking a little dull. the sky overhead is too cloudy. hm? did he just hear thunder—

something collides into his chest, a choked “oof!” following soon after. he stumbles backwards a little, papers flying through the air around him. he blinks once, twice, at the sight of you on the ground, muttering something under your breath before a sharp gasp escapes you, hastily scrambling to gather the papers fluttering and strewn around.

one such paper falls into his hands. he glances over its contents, skimming through it as he goes to pass it over to you with an apology at the tip of his tongue, only to freeze.

this… this is genius! this is absolutely the pinnacle of writing!! while a little rough around the edges (as drafts usually tend to be), his once clouded mind is now clear, giving way to a blank canvas which slowly depicts the imagery your writing induces. idea after idea pours into his brain as he can visualise exactly what he wants, his body trembling and heart pounding as he insantly fixates on your panicked form still collecting all the fallen papers.

“yes… yes! this is what i was looking for! everything about this is pure artistry! the possibilities are endless, the sky is the limit!!”

this is possibly the happiest and freest he has felt in what seems like eons! seriously, compared to those other mind-numbing scripts this truly is the pinnacle of writing itself.

a laugh full of pure, unadulterated glee escapes him, careful not to crinkle the god-sent paper cradled in his palms. “you! you’re a genius!”

“i’m a wha…?”

he whirls in the direction of the source of the voice, further praises and a proposal for a collaboration on the tip of his tongue, only for his breath to catch in his throat.

you… you’re so radiant! even with that disheveled appearance and absolutely adorable confused expression you’re giving him, he never realised such beauty existed! not only does your writing fill him with endless creativity, but his pounding heart, parched throat and warming skin tells him you’re definitely the main character!

but wait! if you were to be the main character, then would that make him the main character’s love interest? surely he wouldn’t have had such a cliché meet-cute like bumping into each other if he wasn’t the love interest! but what if there is a second love interest? no, no, he can oust them…

you, on the other hand, believe you’re about to get whiplash instead of the man, baffled at how he instantly switched from a maniac to stark silence to muttering senselessly with a dreamy expression.

well, each to their own. you have more pressing matters, and that’s to quickly return home and continue fantasising before you forget the idea! but first, you have to get the last piece of paper back…

“um… sir? can i have my paper back, please?”

in an instant, he kneels in front of you. now that you’re at eye level, he certainly is very handsome. if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought this was some movie or drama plot with him as the main lead! oh, but why is he holding your hands—

“yes, i will spend the rest of my life with you.”

“…what?”

tldr; you’re just a silly writer who daydreams far too much for their own good, and somehow managed to bag top-tier director mr reca with the power of said daydreams. (his ever-growing obsession with you is concerning to say the least but, hey! what genius isn’t at least a little insane?)

[gghostwriter]

Emails He Didn’t Send

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 Summary: Through a series of unsent emails, Spencer laments through the loss of his life. Trope: Angst with an open ending w.c: 2.11k a/n: this marks the last of my ‘three’s a sideshow’ series. I wasn’t planning on making it a mini series I promise but ideas came and i am nothing but a slave to my creativity and readers. Special thanks to @lavenderspence & @thegloryofliterature for reading my unfinished drafts and giving me their opinions. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

[Drafted at 14.02.2019 23:41] 

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Hey Love

Your favorite song played on the diner’s radio today. You remember which one, don’t you? The one we softly played through your phone’s speaker as we tried to bake your mom’s apple pie from memory during that late night when nightmares plagued my mind. I vividly remember the burnt taste of its’ crust as we were too busy dancing in each other’s arms, under the dim light of our kitchen and the night light, to mind the timer going off.

Sitting on the table, feeding each other what we deemed left edible, and laughing at how faulty your memory could be. It didn’t taste like what you imagined it to be, nostalgia and love, but for me, it was the sweetest treat there was. Being there with you, sheltered inside our apartment, accompanied by your smiles and giggles.

In hindsight, how ironic was it that was our running joke, when my memory is anything but fallible.

I once thought I knew all there was about love. The science behind it—how love actually happens less in the heart and more in the brain where key neurotransmitters such as dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin are released. All these chemical trigger physical responses and in turn feel addictive. As time goes on, connection, commitment and comfortability of the known take over. I’ve known everything about it, read everything about it, and experienced some to an extent—familial and friendship but then, you came along, beautiful, light, and happy, unaware that you’ve dismantled all my beliefs and concepts, making me question the validity of science and making me realize I’ve never truly loved before—the encompassing type of love they describe in books and show in movies. Nothing existed before you and nothing exists after, I know that now. 

Happy Valentine’s Day, love. I’ve spent my day working myself to the bone, doing anything to push the thought away of you and the lack of us. Now, as I hunch over in this wobbling desk in my undisclosed assignment, I can think of nothing but you, the space between us, and the love you’ve defined in the very atom of my being. 

— Spencer

**

[Drafted 01.07.2019 21:16]

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Flowers 

Communicating through flowers is a forgotten language in the modern times. I’ve read and seen too much classics, minus the existential musings of Dostoyevsky, to have a small knowledge of what each flower meant. Interestingly enough, they each would have a variety of symbolisms and depending on the color, it also changes. 

During our first picnic date, you mentioned the bushes of Hydrangeas your mother would religiously tend over in your backyard. How a subtle change in environment causes them to wilt and how the color of their flowers change, as if they were magic or a game of chance. You liked the concept, admitting right then that they were your favorites due to fond memories. I passed by the library, once I walked you home, and checked out a book for it—plants and its up-keeping never one I gravitated to. I did kill the tiny cactus Garcia gifted me in my early start in the FBI, sadly.

Its’ change in colors are attributed to pH changes in the soil, blue is for acidic and pink is for alkaline. Your mother must have made sure to always keep it pink, a manifestation of her love for you. They do, after all, mean many things like love, gratitude, hope, apologies, and regrets in some Asian cultures.

I left you a bouquet of blues on your doorstep, love, before I had to leave for an assignment I’m still on today. I’ve always gifted you pinks, in every month, and in every anniversary. Did you ask yourself why the change in color? I hoped you did.

The blues bear my sincerity and gratitude in having the chance in loving you. As a kid who grew up with certain circumstances, a father gone, bullies in school, and a mother in need of my care, I never once thought I would have had the chance in love or with someone like you, for that matter. I’m not as smooth or extroverted as Morgan, I could never figure out how he picked up women everywhere we went. I’m not as reliable or authoritative as Hotch, someone who could silence a room filled with testosterone with just his presence. I’m neither of those things but you approached me anyways. 

I keep a single pressed flower from that bouquet in my handkerchief now. The very same one you clumsily embroidered my name on. It has become a talisman of sorts, a connection to you and our past. I’m sorry for breaking your heart and in the process, shattering mine.

Good night and please visit me in my dreams, even just once.

- Spencer

**

[Drafted 15.11.2019]

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: What’s In A Name

There’s a phenomenon that happens in our brain that leads to a perception of increased frequency called the recency bias. Giving greater importance to the most recent or the most known, like how a jury remembers a lawyer’s closing argument rather than the whole hearing. Or like how my brain tunes in when it hears the sound of your name, nickname or not. 

I found myself craning my neck to face some stranger shouting your name, even though the statistic of it being you, where I am now, is a definite zero.

Garcia mentioned she saw you at the local grocery a few nights ago. She brought it up in passing, meaning no harm but possibly also looking for an answer as to why you seemed intent on escaping her presence. It’s been another mistake of mine, I know that now, not divulging the truth as to what had caused our break up.

In all my emails to you, I’ve never did tackle the reason—fearing that I haven’t explained myself well enough and end up pressing send by mistake. By then, there would be no going back.

I had met JJ when I was young, naive, and still green from the academy. She, along with Elle and Garcia, were the first female interactions I had that weren’t hostile or coated with this leer or distrust from me being too different from the rest. They saw me as Spencer, the protege of Gideon, the resident boy genius—an important part of the team. Something I have never experienced, I was, after all, always the last kid chosen during group projects and gym class.

Looking back at it now, I had latched on to that warm feeling of belonging and naively interpreted it as a crush on her. Why not on Elle or Garcia, then? Elle was never on my league—she was too strong-headed, sharp on the edges, something she developed during her time in the Sex Crime division. Garcia was too similar—smart and liked all the same things I did, something I had hoped a sibling would be if my mother had opted for another. That left JJ, who treated me kindly, further warping my notion on romance and emotion.

Then I met you and through a series of unforgettable dates, I knew then that what I had for her wasn’t love. What I had with you was. 

I regret not making it clear for you that you were my first love. You had become an absolute point in my cycle of life. Days and months have gone by and I don’t know what to do with the love left in my heart, still. Briefly I wondered if it would evaporate over time, like water left boiling until there is nothing left, or will it all fade with time, burying itself in my all important beating organ?

The scent of your laundry detergent had long faded from my clothes, no matter how I try to lessen its’ wash, trying to cling to it still. Now all that’s left are my memories and the stale smell of cleanliness.

I miss you, my love. 

I miss knowing you were mine, just like I am still yours.

-Spencer

**

[Drafted 01.01.2020]

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Happy New Year

The empty space on the crook on my neck misses the feel of your skin burrowing in into mine. It’s a new year and I’m all alone, surrounded by strangers who do not know who I really am—as a person or as an FBI agent. 

As fireworks go off in the night sky and couples and families greet each other a happy new year, my minds wanders to you and how we could be looking at the same sky.

Nostalgia seems to be a bitter trick of the mind, one i could feel myself wanting to sink into its depth—trying to live in the past. Emily sagely advises me to let it go, to move on as you no doubt had, after all, it had been a year now, but I find myself rooted in place as if the earth’s gravity didn’t allow me to.

Time had passed and the atomic beings in me had aged, I question if this is the definite end. Were you the closest I had ever come to a cliche happy ending? If I had noticed the signs in time, maybe we would have still be one.

I never did tell you where we were that night—the real reason why I had been late. In my defense, I didn’t want it to seem to be an excuse, a way to curry your anger. She went with me to pick up your ring that night. Sadly, work got in the way and I had to beg the jewelry store owner, with the help of Garcia tracking him down, to open shop just for me to pick it up. I had it adjusted you see—to fit down your finger.

There are many cultures that have the tradition of making a wish on New Year’s, you were my every wish.

-Spencer

**

His finger hesitated on the right click of his mouse. It had been numerous months of being away from Virginia and everything seemed to have changed without him. Stores that he once frequented were now closed and replaced with something new. Broken down stop lights he vividly remembers were replaced. And the team, once happy and unstained with the darkness of their cases, had aged and become jaded.

Spencer wondered if reaching out was the right thing to do. If reopening old wounds that never healed right would bring some sort of closure. The first night back home, he had caught a glimpse of her, far away and oblivious to his presence. It had brought to mind the urban theory of meeting people twice—how someone who’ve finished their story in his life were bound to never appear again. He’d never put much fate into those beliefs with no scientific backings but as he spied her crossing the street, Spencer found himself believing it, imploring it to be real. 

He sighed under his breath, eyes tracking the simple note he had written down. 

To: reader@gmail.com

Fr: spencer.reid@gmail.com

Subject: Hello

Hi. I hope this finds you well. Will you be open to talk? Just talk.

There’s no need to reply right now or even at all, for that matter.

If yes, I will be waiting at our coffee shop, the one you shared just with me, by the window this coming Saturday afternoon.

But if the burden is too much or you simply never want to see me again, I would understand.

Perhaps, now is my turn to wait for you restlessly. A penance two years too late.

-Spencer

He steeled his nerves before pressing ‘send’. The beating of the organ in his chest threatens to swallow him whole. Who he was could change within a couple of days—there now would be a definite ending to their story. 

Her Polaroid picture was still tacked on his work station, faded but her smile was still the same—warm and inviting. She lingers all around, ring still in his drawer, as if she might return. As if these memories and mementos can summon her back in his arms.

“Reid,” Emily called out. “We’ve got a case.”

He nodded, quickly leaving his desk to head straight to the conference room, unaware of the single unread message left in his inbox.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Request taglist for this series: @mega-kittyglitter-1 @ozwriterchick @flyingwithsilly @timewontgivemetime @vani3 @babyspiderling @alexa554 @ivet4 @starbright1002 @lunaryoongie @casey1-2007 @cherryblossomfairyy @iovediary

[captain-astors]

Finished up my attempt at Deuce within @where-does-the-heart-lie's fighting game AU! Feeling a little iffy about it but I might've just been staring at this for too damn long. Anyways thoughts, symbolism explanation, and sketches I made in the attempt bellow the cut.

Okay! So in general I worked with a rule of 2's when it came to Deuce's hearts with the exception of his camera, but that's supposed to pair with the pen with the little heart cap, I just didn't remember to keep that in my final drawings somewhere. Trying to strike a balance between "Just a guy" and "fun stylized outfit" was hard and I don't think I quite got it, but it was enjoyable nonetheless!

Heart glasses- Representative of how he loves observing the world and aspires to adventure through it. The cracked lens represents how the damage he's received from people he loved has caused him to look at others cynically at times. Meanwhile the unshattered lens sort of represents his tendency to look at those who earn his love with extreme levels of internal praise, half of Ace's first novel is just him waxing poetic about how lovely Ace is and I think that's hilarious.

Hearts on the gloves- He shows his love for the world and for people through the writing he does with his hands! But they're somewhat damaged because they've been utilized for the medicinal legacy that was forced upon him.

Heart on the camera/pen- A specific love for journalism and writing and telling a story, credits to Whery for the first one.

Spade on the shirt- Not technically a heart but it's a little play on how he keeps the Spades close to his heart/tends to be kind of pokey if you try to get close.

Spade/heart on the back of the shirt- Symbolic of the whole life-devoting love within him, so it's large, but it's kept guarded and tethered by the camera strap and can only be seen beneath a layer and if he trusts you enough to turn his back. It's mostly upside-down to look more like a heart if I'm honest, but that as well as that it's on his back and so guarded is all representative of how the family that he presumably once loved shamed and pressured him, making a sort of "weight on his back". It's spade shaped because that's who his devotion and love belongs to, but also when counted with the other one, Deuce!

One of my scrapped ideas was having the coat be a doctor's coat with the only hearts on it being scorched edges because something something fire set him free but he still uses his medicinal abilities to benefit people in his new life, but I couldn't get it to look right so I went with the summery looking thing he's wearing now. It's fine but it kind of lacks a personality, I think that's the main thing I'd try to revise if I redid this but I've already overthought it to hell so. Another day.

Ace in Dr. Robotnik's outfit from the sonic movie is there for facial reference and emotional support I guess, I made that a while ago.

And in one last vaguely related tangent, yours truly has a very distinctly heart-shaped birthmark on my foot. It symbolizes that I'm tired. (Jokes aside I think it's cool, afab actually stood for Assigned Fighting game character At Birth)

[dorkshadows]

The Writeup

Thanks for the interest! As promised, I've come out of retirement for one (1) day to do this writeup about the intense things going on in the Nezha 2 fandom.

Once more, this is NOT about the people who happened to watch the movie, the people who are just interested in box office stats, the people who really enjoyed the movie, or the people who just really admire Nezha. This will be about the fandom fandom, the truly invested, the elaborate fanons behind certain ships that will make you go "wait what?", the rabid Ao Guang discourse that will also make you go "wait what?," the brainrot (affectionate) in its purest unfiltered form. This is a post about brainrot for those also suffering from brainrot.

This is a collection of patterns mainly from lofter, but also from douyin, weibo, bilibili, and xhs (I'm grouping everyone together because most artists/authors repost to multiple sites or have their content shared on multiple sites, so everyone ends up looking at the same things if they follow the relevant tags on each site). I didn't filter out or blacklist a single tag. I stared directly into the sun to collect this information!

Disclaimer: I genuinely have no idea how to warn for some of the things mentioned here, so just a blanket note of caution- if you click "read more," you are prepared to read about anything and everything. If you are OK with all this, then- let's go! 命由我不由天!

The movie has been out in China in for roughly 3 weeks. In those 3 weeks, all of this has happened in the deepest layers of fandom.

General patterns:

I can't speak for other site stats, but at least on Lofter, Nezha/Ao Bing as a ship is #1 and #2 trending (as Oubing and Bingzha respectively) out of all fandoms and topics on Lofter. But curiously, Ao Guang (#8 trending) and Shen Gongbao (#9 trending) are more popular as individual characters than Nezha and Ao Bing. The latter is noteworthy because Shen Gong Gong's tag was pretty barren circa 2019.

Some Oubing fans have decided that they don't have enough oubing content so they've started shipping Oubing.... from the 1979 movie. This is also in the top 10 trending. Their inspiration comes from this advert.

Ao Guang vocally disapproves of his son dating Nezha, but he can't do anything about it. The real victim here!

Any pairing you can think of exists. Any pairing.

Character/Reader fics exist for everyone in the main cast except Wuliang Shenweng and Taiyi Zhenren

There's a vibrant self-shipping community again for everyone except Wuliang and Taiyi

Lots of M-preg

CEO Ao Guang is common in modern AUs

Nezha is usually in his powered up form in Oubing/Bingzha content, but in his gremlin form in content focused on anyone else

Lots of "The characters themselves react to watching the movie!" type of stories

Shiji Niang Niang has been shipped with both Taiyi Zhenren and Shen Gongbao. The latter has spawned a meme. There's a comic I won't repost because I don't know who the original artist is, but it's very powerful. It goes like this:

SGB: "Prejudice is like a mountain in people's hearts-" SNN: "So I exist in everyone's hearts? That's beautiful <3"

"Lady Yin LIVES!" AUs aplenty

Wuliang's nickname is "Evil Peach"

Lots and lots and Lots of Shen Gongbao whump

Ao Guang has been separately interpreted as a daddy dom, a malewife, an old guy TM, a himbo, and a baby girl AND as all of those things all at once

Ao Run and Ao Bing are the only dragons considered to be smart

Shen Gongbao tends to have very low self-worth. This comes from a 2019 Jiaozi interview where he directly says our leopard lacks confidence

Any AU you can think of: modern AUs, mafia AUs, republican era AUs, actor AUs, musician AUs, wuxia AUs, this one AU where the Ao family are American senators for no reason, omegaverse, and so on

Lots of Journey to the West (a lot of Black Myth specific ones especially) and FSYY crossovers

There's a meme about the real Lu Tong using his antlers to attack people in their dreams if they dare make sexual content of him because someone who made "bottom" Lu Tong content claimed they were attacked by him in a dream. Others took this to mean that he only attacks if you make him a bottom. People who interpret him as a "top" claim that they won the lottery and their lives are going great.

Ao Guang and Shen Gongbao are usually on a first name basis. Ao Guang calls Shen Gonbao 公豹兄 (Gongbao Xiong, "Brother Gongbao") and Shen Gongbao calls him "Ao Guang" directly. This is sort-of canon because this is how they address each other in 敖丙传 "The Tale of Ao Bing/Aobing Zhuan". for those who ship it, their ship name is 龙王豹 (longwangbao/ dragon king leopard) *Keep Aobing Zhuan in mind. This will be important towards the wildest part of this writeup.

Now for the elaborate fanon lore behind two specific ships that seemingly came out of nowhere. Everyone knows about oubing, but what about the other popular ships out there? They're absolutely wild, but- HEAR THEM OUT.

DiLong:

This one has its origins from the first movie. 地笼 AKA "Prison Cage/Emperor Dragon." It's a ship based on Tiandi (Emperor of Heaven) x Ao Guang. The Di in "emperor" is pronounced the same as ground "di," which is also the first character that makes up the word "prison." And "long" (dragon) is pronounced the same way as cage (also "long"), hence the ship name.

Some time after Ne Zha (2019) came out, someone pulled out one of Ao Guang's lines and ran with it. It's a quote where he essentially says that even though the dragon clan was loyal to heaven and its emperor, the heavens betrayed and imprisoned them in the sea anyway. This section of fans took this to mean that Tiandi charmed Ao Guang on false pretenses, took advantage of Ao Guang's love for him, and then left him to rot in the eastern sea... after impregnating him with 1-3 kids. And this changed Ao Guang from an innocent beauty into a resentful dragon desperate for vengeance.

Things of note about dilong:

Tiandi 天帝 is NOT the Jade Emperor (Yu Di). Their mythos overlap, but the Emperor of Heaven is considered the supreme ruler of Everything in the universe while the Jade Emperor rules over the three realms. So Tiandi ranks higher than the Jade Emperor. (But he's also a more obscure figure in popular worship if we get technical)

At the time, Ao Guang didn't actually have a name in 2019 canon. So the fans referred to him as 敖广 (that's what the eastern dragon king has always been called, but Nezha 2 reimagines him with a different name that's pronounced similarly: 敖光).

Tiandi's given name, or rather, the name that the fans gave him, is Hao Tian 昊天, which is the actual name of one of the mythological Tiandi's many variations

Tiandi does not appear in either Nezha movie. His entire character (appearance, personality, etc.) is purely built on headcanons. He is usually written as a playboy, a heartless manipulative bastard, a deadbeat dad, an ungrateful power greedy monster, and so on. But he is always written and drawn as #Hot.

Ao Guang gave birth to Ao Bing in the Dilong universe.

As you can tell, this is a very angsty ship that usually ends in anger and suffering, but there are plenty of fix-its and happy ending versions out there too, mostly about Tiandi feeling bad for being such a shitty bastard in the past and trying to win Ao Guang back

Regardless of how you feel about Dilong after reading all this, if you are in any way fond of Ao Guang's design in Nezha 2, you owe your life and soul to Dilong shippers because Jiaozi's original idea for Ao Guang was making him a bearded geezer. The Nezha team saw how popular the humansona for Ao Guang was (from dilong fanart) and they incorporated it into canon.

#Dilong had a resurgence in popularity thanks to Nezha 2 (it's the no.6 trending topic on weibo as of right now). But you'll notice that pre-2025 Dilong may feel ooc now because Ao Guang is, for lack of better word, interpreted more as a softspoken twink than the beautiful himbo he is now.

*Keep Dilong in mind as well. It is the source of much insanity below.

LuBao:

Next, in a similar vein to Dilong, another wild ship has risen over the horizon! In terms of quantity, dilong is more popular, but in terms of engagement, this is doing bigger numbers nowadays. I'm talking likes in the ten-thousands range. That ship is.... Lu Tong x Shen Gongbao. AKA 鹿豹 (LuBao, DeerLeopard)

You might be thinking "HUH!? Why!?" My answer for you is that it's all Taiyi's fault. Both inside and outside the movies, Taiyi consistently screws Shen Gongbao over. Life imitates art! This section is a little longer than the dilong section because there is a Lot going on here. I'll admit that one of the most profoundly beautiful and well-written stories I have ever read is a lubao fic on lofter, I understand now

Just as the fans did for dilong once upon a time, this section of fans pulled a blink-and-you-miss-it quote from Nezha 2, where Taiyi tells Nezha that the previous captain of the demon hunting team was Shen Gongbao (after they meet the current captain, Lu Tong).

From there, the lore just got deeper. When Lu Tong greets Taiyi, he calls him 师伯 (Shi Bo, senior martial uncle). But you only call a male relative 伯 in Chinese when that person is your father's older brother. Wuliang is Taiyi's elder (martial) brother (Shi Xiong, as I'm sure you all know), so Lu Tong's address is incorrect. Taiyi knows this as well, so he corrects Lu Tong and says "It should be 师叔" (Shi Shu, younger martial uncle). Lu Tong continues calling him Shi Bo anyway. The fans took it to mean one of two things:

Lu Tong did it on purpose because he only acknowledges one (1) person as his Shi Shu and that's Shen Gongbao

Lu Tong is officially Wuliang's disciple, but he believes himself to truly be Shen Gongbao's disciple and since Taiyi is Shen Gongbao's elder martial brother, he'll call him Shi Bo

Then it got even more elaborate. The fans surmised that since the celestials are so condescending towards demons, Lu Tong and He Tong were ostracized and bullied when they first arrived at Yuxu Gong. And the only person who was nicer to them/protected them/stuck up for them was Shen Gongbao since they're the only demons there. This is why you'll sometimes see fanart of the three of them together in the "Yuxu Gong days."

When Shen Gongbao immediately realized Shen Xiaobao's wound came from Lu Tong's arrow, the fans decided this meant that he was familiar enough with Lu Tong to know his fighting style. When paired with the above headcanon, this directly turns into "Shen Gongbao himself taught Lu Tong archery."

Whenever Ao Bing possessed Nezha, fans noticed that there was always a closeup of Lu Tong's reaction. They decided this meant that Lu Tong recognized Ao Bing through recognizing his fighting style, taught to him by Shen Gongbao.

The fans also think Lu Tong did not have to go off that hard on Shen Xiaobao and Shen Zhengdao. There's following your boss's orders and there's following those orders in the most hyperviolent over the top way possible. Their conclusion is that Lu Tong knew that was Shen Gongbao's family and did it on purpose. Because when Shen Gongbao left Yuxu Gong without telling him, Lu Tong took that personally. And when he took Ao Bing on as a disciple, Lu Tong took that more Personally. So Lu Tong has decided to do his best to kill everyone Shen Gongbao ever cared about until he has nobody left but Lu Tong. Audiences complained that Lu Tong lacked a personality in the movie- the fandom has assigned him a personality and that personality is "sadistic freak obsessed with his Shi Shu."

Things of note about LuBao:

dilong was requited at some point in time, but lubao is an aggressively one-sided ship where Shen Gongbao only requits 1% of the time either because it's a complete AU, none of the movie's events happened, or he has amnesia (inflicted on him by Lu Tong)

A common trope revolves around Lu Tong hoping and hoping for Shen Gongbao to take him on as a disciple, which never happens, planting the first seeds of disappointment and HATE

Lu Tong really fucking hates Ao Bing, whom he considers to be the antagonist of his life because Ao Bing STOLE all of Shen Gongbao's love that rightfully should have been Lu Tong's. He also really hates Ao Guang too, again for stealing HIS shishu. actually, he hates Taiyi sometimes too. He hates anyone Shen Gongbao ever talked to.

He Tong is the only person who knows Lu Tong is this way.

Sometimes Lu Tong meets Shen Gongbao as a primitive deer, a fully adult celestial-in-training, or a literal "deer boy." During his time as captain, Shen Gongbao usually takes Lu Tong under his wing at some point and/or is the person who spares Lu Tong from being slaughtered by the rest of the team or convinces the others not to kill him. OR, even wilder, Shen Gongbao interacts with Lu Tong for 5 minutes 200 years ago and that's enough to cause Lu Tong to go on this spiral. Whichever the case, Lu Tong imprints on Shen Gongbao.

90% of LuBao content includes Lu Tong taking his revenge on Shen Gongbao after Wuliang imprisons him. This includes all manner of graphic torture.

Lu Tong wants Shen Gongbao to hate him because he believes Shen Gongbao left him in the past due to indifference towards him. "Hate lasts longer than love."

Shen Gongbao: *exists* Lu Tong: I'll kill your family. I'll kill your disciple. I'll kill your disciple's father and your disciple's best friend. And Taiyi Zhenren too. I'll kill everyone who ever interacted with you. Then I'll break you and break you some more until you're nothing but bones and dust. I hate that you made me love you and that you left me. What do the dragons have that I lack? Are my antlers lesser than their horns? We both have blood on our hands and yet you think yourself nobler than I. You are inherently kinder than me and I hate that the most about you. My dearest revenge is dragging you down to my level, to make you hate me as much as I hate you. If I can't have your love, I will have your hate and your pain and your tears- Ao Bing & Ao Guang: 有病!??????? WTF.

恨明月高悬独不照我 is a phrase now permanently associated with this ship. It translates to "I hate that the moon in the sky shines for all but me." Lu Tong hates that shishu shares affection with everyone except him.

This is such a prevalent characterization of Lu Tong at this point that "obsessed with Shen Gongbao" is now his defining trait even in content where neither he or Shen Gongbao are main characters

If its an Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao fic, Lu Tong sometimes shows up as SGB's abusive ex, abusive stalker, or a guy that Ao Guang finds extremely creepy and annoying

If you're still here, this next and final section puts everything else to shame!

The Ao Guang Discourse

There is a lot of drama surrounding Ao Guang now, not because of anything he did as a character, but because of who's he's shipped with. But there's actually only one side of the fandom instigating all the arguments.

Now, remember Aobing Zhuan? That's a spinoff comic focused on Aobing's childhood that came out circa 2021(?). It goes into depth about his early days with Shen Gongbao, his brothers, and even his mother, 应龙, Yinglong. (Yinglong is a real mythological creature, a powerful dragon with a place in old mythos and folklore as well, but that's not entirely relevant here lol). Yinglong is older than Ao Guang, is beautiful, strong, etc. She dies in the spinoff.

A significant number of fangirls latched onto Ao Guang (as presented in Aobing Zhuan), and projected onto Yinglong, the mother of his children. After Nezha 2 released, Ao Guang understandably gained even more fangirls. Most of them became GuangYing shippers.

Now, it's a golden rule in CN fandoms to tag your content so others can avoid. GuangYing shippers do not care about this. They go onto any and all m/m content with Ao Guang to insult the authors and argue that their disgusting ways are disrespectful to canon, disrespectful to Ao Guang, and disrespectful to women everywhere. It doesn't matter that Yinglong is not in the movies and also dead--Ao Guang is not allowed to move on from her ever, and also he is STRAIGHT. Is there not enough gay content out there?? Why can't the heterosexuals have this one man to themselves?? The injustice!

Edit to add: m/f is also unsafe from the wrath of guangyin shippers. They also attack Ao Guang self-shippers for daring to be sluts coming in between him and his true love, Yinglong.

They especially hate dilong and have been harassing all dilong content for the past month. Dilong is their main target, but it's not their only target- you can also find them under Ao Guang/Shen Gongbao content claiming that "they're just besties" and "Ao Guang just sees Shen Gongbao as a pet" asdfasdf

Dilong shippers retort by saying all Guangying shippers do is attack and harass others instead of making their own content, which is why their content is so lacking and pitful. They also called into question the canonicity of Aobing Zhuan. Jiaozi supervised it, but he's not the actual author. They started bashing Aobing Zhuan as focusing too little on Aobing, making Aobing look bad to make his brothers look good, accusing the author of being a Xiao Zhan stan in the wake of the ao3 ban, creating events that directly contradicted with canon, crediting things that Ao Guang or Shen Gongbao did for Aobing as things that Yinglong did, the official Nezha team is embarrassed of the direction Aobing Zhuan went in and doesn't acknowledge it anymore, Yinglong is the author's self insert, etc. And back and forth-

And then, 匪我思存 (Fei Wo Si Cun), acclaimed web novelist, author of multiple novels, including 东宫 (Goodbye My Princess 2019) and 9 more that were turned into TV shows.... published a Dilong fanfic on main (weibo). It referred to Ao Guang as 敖广 and involved M-preg, of him giving birth to Ao Bing, who is also Tiandi's child here. Yinglong and Tiandi's wife are both in the story too- they are a lesbian couple who double as beards for their husbands.

The Ao Guang fangirls, I mean, Guangying shippers LOST IT. They came at Fei Wo Si Cun with full throttle rage. Countless socmed posts about what a horrible disgusting disgraceful thing this author did! How dare she use her wide platform to do this instead of putting it somewhere where nobody can see!? Some have even accused this one fic of destroying Nezha 2's image on the global stage. This one story about this one ship has DESTROYED the reputation of ALL OF CHINA. This is TREASON. Now when normies see Ao Guang and Ao Bing, all they will think about is M-preg.

Not only that, Fei Wo Si Cun had the audacity to do something as misogynistic as turning Yinglong into a lesbian beard! It is a SIN to break up a "canon" pairing and a sin to change the character's sexualities into anything except heterosexuality!

Correction: the lesbian couple part is hearsay and probably came from FWSC saying (that in her fic’s setting) Yinglong and Tiandi’s wife married their husbands because they can’t be with the people they love for “reasons”

The Yinglong crowd is still going at it as I write this. FWSC has not deleted or apologized for this fic. China's reputation has, last I checked, not been DESTROYED by this one story about an animated dragon man from a kid's movie, and dilong shippers are still suffering.

And that's a wrap for now. I may or may not update this if something even wilder happens. I want to say no, this is the end of the ride, but we are only 1 month in. There's plenty of time for more to crop up!

UPDATE: This post is already out of date LMAO! For those interested in updates on everything mentioned above, here's the follow-up: Writeup Part 2.

BONUS UPDATE: Part 3

[obitos-whore]

SFW Alphabet for Gaara

────────────────────────────────────

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Gaara adores his s/o's voice. Especially the way they pronounce his name makes his heart flutter like crazy.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

It's hard to pick a favourite part when his partner is the literal definition of perfection. But if he had to choose, it'd be your hands. He loves the feeling of them intertwining with his and especially the way they caress his face.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Despite still struggling with physical touch due to all the neglect and childhood trauma, Gaara really enjoys being the little spoon. Feeling someone holding him close and protectively makes him feel safe and truly wanted.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Being the Kazekage requires a lot of time and also comes with the cost of losing even the tiniest bit of privacy. However, this doesn't stop him from having weekly date nights with you. Most of the time, you two stay at home and cook together and either watch a movie afterwards or take a stroll through the outskirts of the village to go stargazing.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He's not the best with expressing his emotions and often struggles with them and instead tries to describe how he feels, making it sound surprisingly poetic. But what he lacks in words, he'll make up with sweet, subtle gestures and expressions. Brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear here, a deep, longing gaze there. Another way for him to express his feelings is by making use of the "flower language" and giving you certain flowers to emphasise these emotions of his.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Gaara doesn't necessarily need to start a family with you. But he wouldn't mind if you want to. Though deep down he's afraid that he might end up like his father, even if it's subconscious. Plus, being the Kazekage means less time for you and your children and leaving you to care for them mostly on your own.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Gaara is very thoughtful with his gifts and will make sure to give you something that's either very useful, or fits your style and taste. He also doesn't shy away from spending a big amount of money on the gifts. After all, you're his beloved, his heart, and you deserve only the best.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Gaara is rather shy when it comes to pda, especially as the Kazekage. However, if he and his darling are by themselves, for example while taking a stroll under the starlit night sky in the desert, he doesn't mind holding his beloved's hand. Just the feel of their fingers laced with one another makes his heart skip a beat.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If it's only a small cut or bruise, he'll be very calm about it and gently tend to your wounds. If it's a stab wound or a deadly injury, he'll try his best to remain calm and stop the bleeding himself while trying to get you help asap. His voice will be a deep, demanding roar tinged with desperation as he calls for a medic. And rest assured, whoever did that to you, will pay greatly for what they have done.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Gaara is very selective when it comes to whom he shares a laugh with. Fortunately, you, as his s/o, happens to be one of the few people he feels comfortable with, though he has a bit of a dry humour, which is definitely not everyone's cup of tea. However, pranks are definitely not something that humour him. Quite the opposite actually. He would never play a prank on his beloved, because that would require him taking advantage of his s/o's fears and vulnerability. And that's definitely something he does not stand for. And he would greatly appreciate it if his partner refrains from playing pranks on him as well.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

His favourite spots to kiss you are your forehead, palms and of course your lips. However, if his s/o is shorter than him, he will also plant a tender kiss on the crown of their head. And if his s/o happens to be taller than him, he will place featherlight kisses under their ear and where their jaw ends.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Gaara primarily shows his love to his partner by making time for them, as the lack of it is the biggest con of your relationship. For example; when his partner brings him his lunchbox to his office, he asks them to stay and eat with him. Another way of showing his love are acts of service as well as gift giving. He's meticulous when it comes to these things and also puts a lot of thought behind his gifts.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings are usually very calm and serene. Gaara is an early bird and usually wakes up at daybreak. He normally stays in bed for a few minutes and watches you sleep or snuggles up to you for some lazy morning cuddles, before he gets out of bed to have a warm cup of tea and get himself ready for the day. If you're an early bird like him, he will have breakfast with you. But if you happen to be the complete opposite, Gaara will have breakfast all by himself before heading off to the Kazekage's office, leaving you a sweet little note wishing you a good day and letting you know how much he loves you.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

His worst fear would be losing you, either by death or you not loving him anymore. If you leave him for someone else, he will spend months and even years asking himself what he did wrong to make you lose your feelings towards him. He won't resent you of course, but seeing you happy with someone else hurts him immensely and makes him want to rip out his heart and bury it deep within the desert alongside his memories with you.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Whenever he hears someone say your name, a small smile subconsciously adorns his face and his eyes get that soft, adoring look. His siblings often tease him about it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Aside from the classical "Darling" and "Love", Gaara will call you his little "Desert flower". The reason why he calls you that is because your love is the beauty that was able to grow even in the harshest conditions (his past and imperfections).

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Gaara is a sucker for anything that includes spending time with you whenever he gets to. Being the leader of an entire village is a very time consuming job, so even spending ten minutes with you are comparable to a paid, six week vacation to him. But one of his all time favourite ways to spend time with you is when he's caring for his cacti and you helping him.

R = Remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

His most treasured moment in your relationship is when you reassured him in such a heartfelt and sincere way about your love for him, after he had voiced his concerns and doubts about him being worthy of someone as kind, amazing and loveable as you.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Gaara does not like having secrets from you and he especially hates lying to you. He has been lied to the majority of his life and could never do the same to others. But he also knows that, in order to understand him better, he needs to communicate openly with you, no matter how sensitive the topic may be. He's good at keeping your secrets though, so you can tell him literally everything about yourself and he would take them to his grave without even an ounce of judgement.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

It took a good while, because Gaara always lost his confidence last minute before confessing his love to you. He would mentally chide himself for his cowardice, reminding himself that the worst you could say was "No". But that deep rooted fear of rejection and potentially losing you forever just kept messing with his head and hurting his heart.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Depending on whether he is the one responsible for upsetting you, accidentally of course, he would either be calm and collected, offering you comfort and a shoulder to cry on or just vent to. Or he would unintentionally act like a kicked puppy, apologising to you profusely and trying to mend things by making or ordering your favourite food, buying you a huge plush animal, offering you to yell at him to get your emotions out of your system, etc.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Gaara is proud of many things regarding you. But if he had to pick one thing, it would be your resilience and undying devotion and love towards him. He's well aware that there are still people who don't trust him and think you're too good for someone like him. And seeing you defend him and stay by his side through it all without wavering makes him feel both proud and humble at the same time.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Gaara knows you're an independent and resilient human being and therefore lets you go on missions and engage in battles if that's what you want. Of course he feels stressed and anxious about you potentially getting hurt or worse, but he has faith in you and will refrain from treating you like a fragile egg. But he will definitely fight alongside you if possible.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He's perceptive by nature and picks up on a lot of things, like the way your eyebrows furrow when you're thinking about something, or the way your lips purse when something or someone bothers or disgusts you. He's not perfect by any means and there are still some aspects he struggles with, but he's a fast learner and will mentally take notes of every single thing you do, no matter how little it is.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

Since Gaara prefers to keep his personal life as private as possible, he would resort to a cute stay at home dinner, followed by a nice, quiet walk around the village at night. He would take the time to gather his courage and rehearse his speech over and over again in his head while taking you to his private garden where he will propose to you under the silvery light of the full moon.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Your voice and general presence are a safe haven for the often tired and stressed Kazekage. He knows, no matter how exhausting or stressful the day may have been, as soon as he's with you, he can unwind and relax. Preferably in your arms, or with his head nestled comfortably in your lap while your hands run through his messy red hair.

[acesw]

On Liang Yue being neurodivergent-coded

I've observed that Liang Yue is a lot more explicitly neurodivergent-coded compared to other characters. A lot of these observances were picked up from how she acts, how she thinks, and how it tends to affect the world around her. I want to explore it here in this post.

Now, this is non-definitive of Liang Yue's character. Whatever opinion you have of her is still by all means valid. These are just my thoughts as an ND person. Consider this as my apology of disappearing a lot more LOL

Additionally, she'll be referred to as Yue from now on, as it's her first name. Let's get started.

1. Social Cues and "Infodumping"

The first thing Yue gives off is her humility and her honesty. And while that softens people's hearts, I also find it interesting that part of this is because of her struggling to pick up on social cues.

She tends to be left puzzled by people's words (e.g. Poitier's comments on her home life affecting her job), and follows it up with asking for clarification. I also found that Yue can be confused when her actions make others upset.

Many neurodivergent people struggle with ambiguity. Straightforward and direct passages are highly valued, and the lack thereof makes it difficult to figure out what people are actually telling them.

I also find that this might by why Yue overshares or "infodumps" anything she has knowledge of when it's needed. She wants to ensure that not only do others completely understand what she thinks, but also her thought process is entirely clear to her.

Speaking of which, it's also observed that Yue tends to speak out her thought processes throughout the story (e.g. speaking out her thoughts on Qi Xing's motives).

I think that her internal thoughts are a lot more disorganized, and talking about those thoughts out loud make it easier to pinpoint the main points she wants to make.

2. Isolation and Being "Different"

It's no secret that Yue is not very well-received by those around her, often being singled out for being different. But it inherently affects her social capabilities and how she approaches relationships.

Yue's classmates did not like her because she was a "traitor" and a "teacher's pet", so they often left her alone or made fun of her. Meanwhile, her colleagues also did not like her at first, thinking that she was just a spoiled rich kid.

There's also her own parents (particularly her father) who have set expectations for her as a guardian to Qiangliang. Yue often got reprimanded by her father because she struggled with understanding his teachings, and she found it hard to grasp his strictness over it.

Additionally, taken from my friend's insight, her family raised her in such an isolated environment that it kept her from learning how to communicate with others. It's common for traditional families to raise their children this way, but it's definitely made it more difficult for Yue to express her feelings directly.

All of this culminates to Yue having the impression that she'll never be liked or understood. It's led her to being incredibly closed off and hesitant to opening up about herself, making it hard to bridge her relationships with others. Her upbringing also led to her being accidentally coming off as indifferent or unempathetic, which does drive an emotional drift between herself and her peers.

Moreover, it becomes why Yue is surprised when Poitier protected her from Qi Xing's attack, and why her father did not react harshly to when she said she lost Qiangliang.

3. Special Interest and Escapism

Detective C07 defined most of Yue's life and values, and her love for this movie is integral to the story and her character arc. A lot of the values that Detective C07 (and Qi Xing) had, Yue found it in herself and she carried it for all her life.

It's one of the few things she tends to sacrifice things for, risking getting punished her parents to watch those movies when she's able to. The film Detective C07 had nestled a special place in her heart, and that influence brought her to who she is now as a Vigiles cadet.

However, this also contributes to some hinderances. She struggled to get past her love for the movie and it showed as a conflict in her story, especially when she had to harm Qi Xing to stop her.

In her mind, harming Qi Xing also meant harming Detective C07; and hurting Detective C07 also meant hurting the part where Yue saw herself in her.

Additionally, that sense of justice (or "right or wrong") can also be a hinderance to an extent—Yue has a tendency to project that onto others without taking their feelings to consideration. Not only does her family's teachings have a hand in that, but it's also influenced by her interest in Detective C07 too. It becomes very evident in how she views C07's ending and how she treated other kids in her childhood.

4. Liang Yue and Qiangliang's relationship

When Yue reflects on her relationship with Qiangliang, she often says that she never got to understand it and might never be able to because of its sacrifice.

She claims that she never liked Qiangliang as a child, but it shows that she really loved it and often treated it as a friend. She often tried teaching it how to play like other kids, and Qiangliang—as much as it did not understand—tried to play as well.

That desire to understand Qiangliang as an individual is what made Yue succeed in resummoning it. I think Qiangliang had become a companion to her, and they greatly respected each other.

Companionship is also very much valued by neurodivergent people, as it establishes a lot of trust and deep mutual understanding. Qiangliang became Yue's companion because she was alone, and it shows that she also felt entirely whole when she could sense its presence.

What Yue didn't observe is that they placed an equal amount of trust in each other, but it's more clear to her now that they'll be able to bridge those gaps together moving forward.

5. Final Thoughts, Clarifications

Now, I figured that Liang Yue's character also represents the cultural dissonance between the modern youth and their connections to their traditions, especially when trying to trace back to it in society. There's no way I'm undermining this aspect of her writing.

However, I find that her traditional upbringing does greatly impact her actions as she grows up. As my friend from earlier talked about it, placing those high expectations on a child who happened to be able to connect with the very deity her family protected definitely hindered her growth as a person. She was raised to rely on herself and yet also protect others; this kind of position, as much as it is common, makes it difficult for her to understand others and herself.

We see how it affects her now, and how she struggles to simultaneously cope with: the cultural rift she found herself in when she was deployed in America, and struggling to socially connect with those around her.

Overall, I want to just share this because I personally resonate with Liang Yue a lot. And it makes me happy to see it when people also resonate with characters like her, leading them to share their own personal experiences.

I've written a twitter version of this post if you want a more summarized way of reading it, but do know that it is a little outdated compared to what I said here.

I hope this post does bring enjoyment for you to read as much as I did writing it. I'd really love to hear your own thoughts or hcs about Liang Yue too. As always, thanks for reading.

[gublernatural]

All of the Books Beside Your Bed ✿ Spencer Reid

♡ SUMMARY: Spencer can’t help but save the day after your weekend plans are ruined

♡ WARNINGS: gross disgusting fluff, mention of a book that talks about nazi propaganda but it’s the same book that was mentioned in the show, a steamy kiss, reader really goes through it mentally in the beginning

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘.𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Everyone could tell you were in a bit of a sour mood. Working with profilers upwards of 9 hours a day (and that was an easy day), made it hard for subtleties to go unnoticed.

The team caught on to the lack of jokes passed around the bullpen, the way you huffed when you sat down after getting each cup of coffee, and they definitely noticed the scowl that had been etched across your face all day.

“What’s got sunshine all cranky today?” Derek asked, posing the question to Penelope and JJ in the break room. “We’re not sure, she’s been awfully quiet today,” JJ informs, looking long-fully at your desk, where you angrily shaking your keyboard, tired of the delay when you were typing.

All three of them watch as Spencer slides his chair around, “Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, moving to grab your arm. “It’s not working!” You huff, moving back so Spencer can work his magic. Derek, Penelope, and JJ can’t hear the rest, but they see you relax as Spencer shows you how much better your keyboard is working.

The three disperse, settling back in to finish the paperwork assigned for the day. If all goes well, they’ll get their weekend off. So, everyone was locked in.

Everyone except you. And, oddly enough, Spencer.

The rest of the team had noticed the surface level differences, but Spencer saw you on a different level. He noticed that you started picking at your fingers after you went outside to eat lunch. He noticed when you turned down the brightness of your desktop computer. He noticed the lack of your usual, rotating choice of a novel resting on your desk.

Spencer wasn’t saying he was a better profiler than the rest of the team; he just tended to notice the little things. Especially about you. You were one of his friends, after all.

You weren’t sure why your day was crawling by. You were aware of why you were in such a poor mood, but the only thing that could make it better would be to get off of work and head home. It was silly to be so angry over something so trivial, but you really did plan your weekend around going to the library tomorrow morning.

Your weekend plans surrounded the book you were going to spend hours selecting. Going to the library was something you looked forward to every week, and you knew Hotch has plans with Beth this weekend, so chances were there would be no case and you could truly enjoy your time. You wanted to make a nice dinner for yourself tonight, curl up and watch a movie, and then head to bed.

Tomorrow, you were looking forward to getting up and doing your makeup, browsing around the library until your heart was content, grab lunch with Penelope, and then going home to read in the bathtub. You couldn’t have been more excited.

But your plans were quickly ruined. The library you frequented had sent an email to all its patrons, informing them they the library would be closed until further notice, due to a water pipe that was underground breaking. It had completely ruined your mood for the whole day. And it was continually getting worse with each little inconvenience. You left your notebook at home, when you passed Morgan a file you had given yourself a paper cut, your lunch was soggy, and now your computer was acting up. There was no winning for you today.

“Thank you,” you tried your best to be kind to Spencer, he always tried to help you. “Just try not to smash the keys again,” he teased as he slid his chair back to his desk. “I make no promises.” You mumbled.

Spencer spent a good majority of the day trying to figure out the best way to ask why you were in such a bad mood without making it any worse. He continued to notice how your mood steadily declined, even as the people in the bullpen started to head home. “Is something wrong?” He settled on, after you threw your head back in agitation. You couldn’t help the way tears started to form in your eyes, all the emotions from the awful day spilling over, as you laid your head down on the desk.

No matter how much Emily loved you, she took this as a sign to head home, leaving just you and Spencer. As the glass door to the BAU closed, Spencer made his way to your desk, crouching right down. He rested his arm close to you, wondering if he should rub circles on your back like JJ does for him when he’s upset.

“Hey,” he cooed in that soft voice he only used with people who were vulnerable, “what’s going on?” Being entirely overwhelmed with everything that had happened today, and being engulfed by Spencer’s being had your mind going fuzzy, not allowing you to properly articulate the struggles you’d been facing. “The whole thing just crashed,” you mumbled your most recent misfortune into your arm, doing your best to hold back sobs that were threatening to come through.

“Have you reopened it?” Spencer questioned, springing into action to come up with a solution. You shook your head as more tears fell. “Can I sit there?” He asked, needing your limp body out of his way so he could help you. You nodded again, trying your best to wipe your eyes before lifting yourself up and moving to lean against your desk. “Are you crying?” Spencer couldn’t help himself from asking, very ungracefully.

You simply nodded, turning your head away. Spencer’s cheeks turned red, realizing how inconsiderate he sounded despite just wanting to help make things better for you. He turned his attention back to your computer, easily recovering the file you’d been working on. “There you go. You might’ve lost some work, but it recovered to six minutes ago. I can help you catch up, if you want.” He offers, wanting to recover from his uncouth comment earlier.

You sniffled, “I think I just want to go home.” Spencer nodded, moving out of your chair to allow you to pack your things. “Hold on,” he mumbles to himself, moving back into your desk space. He saved your file, opened your email, and sent it to himself. “What are you doing?” You questioned, rubbing your eyes. “I can finish it for you tonight. We worked on the geographical profile together, so I got it.” Spencer smiled, albeit awkwardly. “Thank you, Spence.” You said with a breath of relief. “It’s no problem at all. I can tell you’ve had a hard day, I just want to make it easier for you.”

Spencer’s simple heartfelt concern for you sent your waterworks over the edge. You couldn’t help yourself as the tears fell, staining your tired cheeks with dark streams of mascara. You couldn’t imagine how goofy you looked, but every emotion was hitting you all at once. You didn’t know how to control it. It was all just too much.

Spencer cooed your name, not hesitating to put a gentle hand over your crossed arms. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was unusually soft, trying his best to create a safe space for you.

You nodded your head, wanting to share but struggling to express all of your hardships. It was as if your throat was closing in on itself, making it hard to breathe and impossible to talk. Spencer could see this written across your face, hesitating for one second before pulling you into his chest. “Shh,” he comforted as one hand ran up and down your back and the other held you close, “it’s okay.”

You weren’t sure how long you two stood like that. Spencer continued to whisper sweet affirmations to you, really just wanting you to feel better. His concern for germs and the stains that could appear on his lilac button up shirt were far away, not circling his mind. All he could focus on was getting you to calm down. He waited patiently for your sobs to slow down and your shoulders to relax.

You pulled away from him, wiping your eyes, “I’m sorry,” you apologized. For everything. For how silly you looked, for crying, for the dark spot on his shirt, everything.

“No need.” He dismissed your attempt, “do you want to talk about it now?” You once again nodded, leaning back against your desk. You were more relaxed now that you had let out your feelings. Still, you felt somehow even sillier as your biggest problem escaped your lips, “I really just wanted to go the library tomorrow.”

Spencer’s face scrunched up, expecting a much more catastrophic reason behind your emotional outburst. You saw the confusion written across his face and went into a deeper explanation. “I had my whole weekend planned out, and the highlight of it was going to the library tomorrow morning. I got an email that said it’s closed indefinitely because of a plumbing issue. And then all the computer issues and my lunch was ruined and it’s just been all around a shitty day. And I can’t even go home and relax like I wanted to because the fucking library is closed.”

Spencer nodded at your angry rambling, happy you were past the crying part of your frustration. He was a bit shocked at your foul language, knowing it wasn’t a common thing for you. His brain moved on quickly, recognizing he had a solution to your problem. “Why don’t you come to my house?”

It was your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion, not understanding what he was proposing. This instantly launched Spencer into an awkward recovery rambling, “I mean, I have a lot of books. Not as much as the public library, as the average library has over 100,000 books, most of which are general fiction, although some would argue that young adult fiction is more common,” he took a breath and attempted to move on from his side track, “I have a fraction of that, but more than the average person. I bet you could find something to read from my collection.” He concluded.

Your entire mood changed as he finished his proposition. It was amazing that he could come up with such a practical solution to such a ridiculous problem, and it was even more amazing how quickly he did. Spencer was welcoming you into his home, allowing you to borrow a book, which you knew were precious to him. He was being so caring, so kind.

“Spencer,” you said, with the amount of awe and adoration you were feeling dripping through, “that is so nice.”

Your sweet tone as you said his name had Spencer’s knees feeling weak. The way you said his name sounded so sweet, like you dripping ooey gooey honey from your mouth.

His cheeks turned red, “it’s nothing. I just don’t want to see you crying again.” You nodded, making a mental note to do your best not to cry in the bullpen anymore. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Spencer immediately nodded, “of course it is. I’ll send you my address.” The smile that adorned your face contrasted sharply with the tears stains on your cheek, but he was so happy to see it.

“Thank you so much,” you said one last time, before packing up your bag to head home.

You tried to pretend that you didn’t set your alarm a little bit early so you’d have more than enough to get ready. You justified it by telling yourself that this was your day, you just wanted to feel as good as possible. Sure, going to Spencer’s house had absolutely nothing to do with it.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face as you climbed into the car, turning on your favorite song and started making your way to the local cafe you and Emily frequented. You knew Spencer liked his drinks sweet, so you did your best to pick out something he’d like, and then hopped back in your car and continued your drive to his home.

It didn’t take long to get there, thankfully. You didn’t want to hand him a cold coffee.

“Hello,” he greeted after you shyly knocked on his door. He was dressed in a FBI branded hoodie and a pair of jeans. You guessed he was only dressed because of your presence, judging by how lackluster his outfit was compared to the button ups, ties, and cardigans he wore to work.

“I don’t think I can say thank you enough, so I bought a coffee to show my appreciation.” Your smile grew tenfold when his eyes lit up at the small cup in your hand. “I told you, it’s no problem. But, thank you for the coffee.” He nodded as he took it from you and opened the door wider, allowing you to step into his apartment.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting it too look like, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, because the real thing was much more grand than anything your imagination could’ve conjured up. Green walls with dark wood molding, a beautifully worn leather couch, bookcases full of books and DVDs of his favorite tv shows. It was so incredibly Spencer, and easily the coziest place you’ve ever stepped foot in. Not even the cluttered stacks of books that adorned parts of the floor and coffee table could take away from the beauty that is Spencer Reid’s apartment.

“Wow, Spence,” you sighed in awe, glancing around the space, “your home is beautiful.” Spencer blushed, ushering you to step farther in. “I’m sorry to be a pain, but could you take your shoes off? I don’t want to track the outside in.” You understood what he meant and nodded, knowing it would save him a lot of mysophobia-induced worry.

“Do you want a tour?” Spencer inquired, setting his cup down on the coffee table. You excitedly nodded, wanting nothing more than to explore his space. He moved towards the left-most bookshelf in his living room, “This is all non-fiction, organized with my very own Dewey decimal system,” he gloated. It was easily to tell that Spencer was proud of his book collection, rightfully so. “The rest of them,” he gestured to two more shelves on the left side of his RCA brand television, “are fiction. They’re organized by author, so you should feel right at home when you’re browsing.”

You nodded excitedly. You couldn’t wait to sort through his mountains of novels.

“This TV is probably older than you,” he quickly breezed over it, “and this is the start of my disc collection. It’s just my favorites right now, Doctor Who, a few soap operas and a couple French films.” You nodded along as he made his list. “This is where my records go, and the occasional CD. I prefer physical media, as opposed to streaming.” That factoid made sense for Spencer.

“There’s a chess table over there, my couch, and the kitchen. My room and the bathroom are down the hall.” Your eyes scanned the room one last time, completely and utterly impressed. “I love it, Spencer. I can only imagine how good it feels to come home to this.” Spencer’s cheeks turned red, not used to being showered in compliments like this.

“Um,” he took a second to collect himself, “I’ve read all of the ones on the shelves, so if you need summaries or reviews I’ll be here. This stack,” he points to the one next to the couch, “are my newest ones, but you are more than welcome to any of them. And this one,” he points to the one next to the chess table, “are ones I am planning to donate, so you are welcome to keep them if you’d like.”

You nodded at his words again, practically ripping at the seams with excitement. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from how long you’d been smiling.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Spencer remarked, reaching for his coffee cup. He wanted to make sure he was honoring your previous weekend plans, allowing you to browse his home library to your heart’s content. He wouldn’t go far, just to the kitchen, so you could have your space.

Before you could stop yourself you were calling out a hurried, “wait!” You stopped, almost if you’d shocked yourself with your remark. You couldn’t help yourself. You felt like you wanted him, no, needed him around. As if the beauty and the warmth and the coziness of his home would dampen by his departure. You stuttered a bit, trying to justify your interruption. “Do you have any recommendations?” was the best you could come up with.

As if he didn’t notice how much higher your voice had gotten, Spencer’s back straightened up and his eyes widen with joy. “I do!” He cheered, heading over to his shelves of fiction books. “This is The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury,” he didn’t even have to look before pulling it down, “it’s a number of stories tied together with a narrative about a man whose tattoos tell stories.” Spencer moved to the coffee table, setting it down right in the middle.

“This one,” he moves back to the shelf, “is called Mother Night. It’s about the conflicted emotions of a Nazi propagandist who doesn’t believe in the propaganda.” Spencer places this book right on top of the previous one.

He does this a few more times, until you have your own stack of books he’d picked out for you. You couldn’t help but notice how your pile fit like a missing puzzle piece in his world of books.

“And this one,” Spencer starts for the fifth or sixth time, but takes a second to glance at you. He realizes quickly that you’re no longer paying attention to the summaries he’s providing. Instead, your attention is turned to the pile of books he’d been creating. For the third time since you arrived, his face is read with embarrassment. He’d been rambling. For far too long. “I’m sorry,” he sighs, moving to return the books to the shelves, “you wanted to browse. I just love books, and I wanted to make sure you found something you like! I didn’t mean to start rambling.”

You’re easily broken out of your trance, quickly pulled away from your imaginations of your own novels mixed in with his on these shelves. “No!” You said, stepping closer to him, “I loved your recommendations, Spencer!” You reassured him, reaching for his arm.

“It’s okay, I promise. I like listening to you talk.” You successfully rendered him speechless, creating a momentary lag in brain. You were so close to him, complimenting his rambles and being interested in his opinions. His breath caught in his throat as he noticed the sparkles in your eyes.

“I don’t mean to come on too strong or anything, but if you want to, I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Spencer whispered into the delicate space between you. You simply nodded, too enamored with the moment to say anything. His right hand came to rest gently against your cheek as he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His touch was feather-light and his lips tasted like sugar, definitely from the coffee you’d given him.

The kiss was a few seconds long, filled with nothing but sickly sweet puppy love.

“Thank you,” he whispered again. You couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips, “anytime, Spence.” He let out a light laugh as well.

He couldn’t help himself from pulling you back into him, taking up on your ‘anytime’ offer. This kiss was filled with sweetness, just as last one was. His hands moved to waist, making sure you were flush against him.

You reciprocated, just wanting to be close to him. Your hands moved upwards, entangling themselves into his hair, as you swiped your tongue along his bottom lip. You smiled against his lips, breaking the ever-growing tension in the room.

When you two pulled away, you found yourself marveling at Spencer. He just looked so pretty, with his now tussled hair and slightly swollen lips. You wished you could commit this sight to memory, just as he was doing to you. While he never had to try, Spencer’s gaze lingered on you for just a second longer, making sure his eidetic memory was doing its job, before he spoke.

“I know you had plans for your weekend, but I’d love to take you on a date, if you’d like.” Spencer stumbled through his proposal, trying to find the words. “I don’t know, I went through a lot of trouble to get to this point.” You joked, sending both of you into a fit a laughter. “C’mon,” you stepped away from him as you moved closed to the door, “let’s go grab lunch.”

[callsigns-haze]

The Twisters Masterlist

- WARNING - please understand that some of my stories contain, gore, smut and other adult topic.

Tyler Owens

Lean On

Summary: Tyler Owens, an avid storm chaser, takes his friends Javi and Kate to meet his estranged wife YN and their son Noah, rekindling old tensions. During a fierce tornado, they seek refuge in a cinema, where Tyler and YN rediscover their love amidst the chaos. YN begs Tyler to never leave again, and he promises to stay, solidifying their connection he broke all those years back.

Lean off

Summary: Tyler returns to visit YN and their son, Noah, after a year. Upon arriving at YN's small apartment, Tyler immediately senses tension between them. YN is cold and distant, and Tyler soon discovers the reason—she had seen him on a recent livestream, where he had flirted with his crew member, Kate, and kissed her forehead. Although Tyler insists that it was harmless, YN's hurt is evident, as it reminds her of all the times he put his storm-chasing career above their family.

Aim to please

Summary: Tyler Owens discovers Y/N, a girl who dances for him, and they engage in a passionate, intimate private dance. Despite lacking protection, Y/N reassures Tyler, leading to a deep bond. Tyler uses a roll of dollars to tease and reward her, solidifying their bond and hinting at future shared moments.

A Love in the Eye of the Storm

Summary: Y/N tends to Tyler's injuries after he returns from a dangerous tornado chase, and their emotional reunion culminates in a passionate embrace, reaffirming their deep love and commitment to each other.

The Chase

Summary: Y/N and Tyler's storm-chasing adventure takes an intimate turn as Y/N teases and overstimulates him during a high-stakes tornado chase, creating an intense moment of passion and connection amidst the chaos.

Little chaser

Summary: Tyler and Y/n Owens enjoy a cozy movie night, only to be interrupted by their storm-chasing squad, who are shocked to discover Y/n's pregnancy

Little baby entrance chase

Summary: Tyler and Y/n welcome their newborn daughter, Hazel Grace, into the world, embracing the overwhelming love and joy of becoming parents as they begin their new journey as a family.

Promises in the Quiet

Summary: Tyler Owens bonds with his newborn daughter, Hazel, promising to protect and love her unconditionally while overwhelmed with emotion during their first moments together.

Not so past

Summary: Tyler and Y/N reunite in a heated, emotional encounter, reigniting their past passion and unresolved feelings during a late-night moment by his truck.

The Weight of a Word

He always introduces her to people as “my wife”? Like they’re newlyweds and he just loves slipping in “wife” whenever he can

Before the Storm

Chapter Summary: Tyler Owens faces a life-altering decision when a tornado strikes his hometown, forcing him to choose between his passion for storm chasing and his newfound responsibilities as a husband and soon-to-be father.

Here Comes Kaboom

Summary: Tyler shares his love for storms with his three-year-old daughter Hazel, who joyfully believes she can summon thunder from the safety of his lap.

Winds of Forever

Chapter Summary: Tyler and Y/N embrace the unpredictability of their love by exchanging vows in the heart of a storm, beginning their married life with nature's raw power as their witness.

Not so cruising

Summary: During a storm chase, Y/N and Lilly are caught in a tornado after a last-minute seat swap, leading to a harrowing rescue by Tyler and the team, with Y/N injured but eventually safe.

Unanswered

Summary: Y/N anxiously monitors a severe tornado chase from the sidelines due to illness, fearing the worst when the live stream abruptly cuts off, only to be relieved when Tyler, her partner, returns safely.

part 2

Not leaving

Summary: Y/N races to save Tyler, trapped under debris after a tornado, refusing to leave his side until he's safely rescued.

Not so past

Summary: Tyler and Y/N reunite in a heated, emotional encounter, reigniting their past passion and unresolved feelings during a late-night moment by his truck.

Study Stress

Where he's helping the reader calm down from an intense school moment. Like in college for a tough major (architecture would be cool lol, not biased at all; maybe focusing on better built homes for tornados) and it's like the first day of classes and it's chaos already.

Another 2

Summary: Tyler and Y/N take their daughter Hazel baby shopping as they prepare for the arrival of their twin boys, savoring a day filled with love, laughter, and the anticipation of expanding their family.

Down Bad

Summary: Tyler and Y/N's serene day of hiking turns into a life-threatening battle against a sudden tornado, forcing them to rely on each other to survive.

Spooky

Summary: Tyler and Y/N’s haunted house date turns into a fight for survival when they realize the danger is all too real.

Happy Birthday

Summary: Tyler surprises Y/N with a secret birthday celebration after she thinks he forgot, turning her day into an unforgettable memory filled with love and joy.

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello omg I love your soft sylus writing a lot !!

May I request please a reader where she loves sylus so much that she tries to express it by words but can’t cause she is so shy and never done so and sylus encourage it and tease her

LOVE UR WRITING

You had something to say and it clear as day to Sylus that you were lost within the internal conflict raging on within your mind, weighing out the pros and cons of speaking truthfully of your heart to him. And while it was adorable to watch you squirm and struggle to articulate your thoughts into coherent sentences for the first five minutes, Sylus was soon aware that since your so hesitant in taking the first step, he’ll have to take the first step on your behalf by grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you onto his lap.

‘Somethings on your mind kitten, it’s eating away at you and I want to know what it is that’s been consuming you from the inside out.’ He says while tightening his grip on your wrist just enough to keep you from being able to pull away, but enough where he’s not bringing you to any harm. You could practically feel your heart in your throat as it righted in on itself, it didn’t help that Sylus’s crimson eyes were peering into you in a way that made it seem as though he knew but loved to watch you suffer. ‘I- I don’t-‘ you stopped before you could even say a full sentence as everything leading up to now had resurfaced in your mind.

You knew you loved Sylus, you have for a while now, but past experiences or close to the sort have made you hesitant in making the first move and into something more meaningful between the two of you. You remember times where you would wonder whether you’d be luckily enough to be blessed with having someone become interested in you, fully investing their time and energy into what you had to say, their eyes remained on you as though they couldn’t bring themselves to look at anyone else.

You wanted everything you’ve seen in movies or read in books so badly, but even if you did find someone who was interested by you, you tended to pull away before they could get close enough to see the real you and become distant because you didn’t fulfill their idea of you that was unrealistic. You couldn’t help it for after being on your own for a long while you have grown accustomed to the idea that you might be left to your own company, maybe have a cat and or a dog in the future to make up for the lack of connection. So the idea of sharing your space with anyone else has always made you feel seriously self conscious and unable to articulate your thoughts and feelings like you’d like to.

However soon Sylus came into your life and you felt the same way you did when you were still talking to the person you preciously liked. You felt jittery, scared, excited and eagerly anticipated when you’d next see Sylus again while occasionally on the look out for Mephisto. Yet once you realised what you were feeling, what you were doing, a cold sense of dread filled you and unfortunately Sylus’s actions towards you only made it even harder for you to deny what was happening between you two.

Sylus would go out of his way to hold you by the small of your back in crowded spaces, keeping you close proximity to him, lightly touch your shoulder or stand closer to you then normal and even get in your face to watch your expressions as he did some lighthearted teasing. He was in your personal space and he was everywhere you went, and since it happened so often it came to a point where you were actively seeking out the tall man with crimson eyes and snow/silvery hair without realising it. The implications scared you gravely to the point where recently you’ve tried to avoid Sylus…only for Luke and Kieran along with Mephisto to find you and inform Sylus before he greeted you in person.

Sylus took your chin in his free hand and moving your head so you were back to staring into his observant eyes rather than to your fiddling fingers. ‘Use your words kitten, after all I’ve got all the time for you to sort out what you want to say.’ He tells you as a smirk played upon his lips as he watched your eyes widened a tad and your breath hitched in your throat. Sylus then taps a finger against your lips softly, letting it linger there for a bit. ‘So speak your mind sweetheart, speak it to me and don’t be afraid of the consequences,’ he then leans forward to rest his head against yours as his eyes looked at your lips briefly before looking back into your eyes, ‘you might like what happens afterwards.’ He finishes as he caresses your jawline with his fingers.

‘Don’t.’ You tell him sternly, taking Sylus back a little. ‘Don’t say things like that if you’re just going to be giving me false promises and leave after I say it.’ You reiterated as you looked at his face as you felt a wave of embarrassment over come you as everything within you screamed to protect yourself.

‘What makes you think I won’t take what you say to me seriously? Have I given you any doubt to distrust me into thinking I would laugh at your innermost emotions?’ Sylus asked and when you didn’t respond his smirk faltered as a serious emotions overcame his face and he took a deep breath. ‘You know I would never laugh at your emotions right? What do I have to gain in knowing your feelings? For I would never use it against you, not when I know that I’d loose you and your trust for that matter.’ Sylus told you as he lets go of your wrist to hold your face between his palms instead, stroking your cheeks softly that you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

‘I love you Sylus.’ You admitted softly but clearly enough for him to hear as his thumbs stopped caressing your cheeks. ‘I always knew I love you but didn’t want to say anything incase you’d find another person to call your muse, to call your kitten or sweetheart. Someone who can keep up with you where I can’t. I knew I couldn’t confess if I knew that this thing between us will never be anything but serious.’ You continued as you felt everything come to the surface, easing the weight upon your shoulders greatly as you could feel yourself breath properly once more.

Sylus didn’t say anything at first and it worried you, especially with the way he keeps his gaze locked on you as though nothing else mattered in this moment but you. It felt as though he could see right through you and directly into your soul and it made you feel a little exposed and vulnerable. It scared it greatly that your fears were proven right, so much that in the moment you tried to move yourself off of his lap, only for Sylus to pull you in closer to him by your face until you were touching noses and lips were ghosting over the others.

‘Sylus-‘ before you could finish your sentence, Sylus was quick to press his lips to yours as he began to weave his lips between yours with a tenderness and passion you weren’t expecting after confessing your innermost feelings. He held your face as though it was porcelain as he deeper the kiss, moving a hand to the back of your head to keep you close to him, all the while his other hand rested on your waist to pull you further into him as though you weren’t already physically close enough. It was passionate, sweet and warm as you found yourself putting your hands on his shoulders, bunching up the fabric of his expensive shirt under your grip as you melted into the kiss; wanting nothing but to forget everything else except the taste of his lips on yours.

Only for your lungs to burn, forcing you to pull away from him as you catches your breath.

Sylus smirked as he hurried his head into your neck, breathing heavily as his fingers traced your skin over your clothes lovingly while you rested your head against his shoulder, soaking in his warmth and comforting feeling you get from cuddling against his chest. ‘I told you I wouldn’t take you nor your emotions for granted kitten, why would I do that to the person I love?’ He says against your neck and you couldn’t help but smile goofily at his own confession as your heart fluttered.

You were glad that you finally got your feelings off of your chest…even if it did take a little nudge from your crimson eyed beloved to do so as you spent the rest of the evening in his arms and whispering sweet nothings to one another.

[thelostmagicians]

Booksmart | Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve Harrington’s head may be full of air, but his heart is full of love. [4.4k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, insecure Steve

♡

Steve Harrington isn’t a genius. He barely passed his classes in high school, couldn’t get into college, and can barely keep his minimum wage job. He’s been belittled by his parents too many times to care about their opinion and he knows compared to his friends he isn’t as clever or witty, but he’s okay with it - at least he thinks he is. It might sting when Robin and Eddie tease him for being too slow or when Dustin sighs in frustration because he can’t keep up, but the ache dissipates when they look at him in adoration. 

He blames his failing love life on his lack of intelligence. Although girls find his himbo-ness endearing, his relationships never last long.  Most of the dates he goes on end up as dirty hookups in the backseat of his car and on the off chance a girl stays longer than a month he can slowly see the irritation replace the endearment in her eyes. He was just something to do during the inbetween phase of graduation and moving out of Hawkins, a trophy to conquer - to finally have slept with the previously known King. He used to be okay with that at the beginning, he got his needs met while girls crossed him off their list, but over time he craved more. He saw how Nancy looked at Jonathan, how Joyce laughed with Hopper, and how Robin blushed around Vickie. He was desperate for that feeling of being wanted and loved. 

Even though he's surrounded by people who love and accept him as he is, he can't help but wonder if things would’ve been different if he was just a little smarter. 

_

“Robin I’m telling you she started speaking a different language halfway through dinner,” Steve grumbles as he’s shelving the horror section. 

Robin rolls her eyes at him, “Just because you don’t understand the words she’s using doesn’t mean she was speaking a different language, Steven. I don’t even think she knows anything but English. 

Steve sighs under his breath. 

He had gone on another date last night, but didn’t even make it past the appetizers before he made up an emergency and left. The night started off great, the Indiana summer evening had a cool breeze, he opened the door for her, and was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek when he presented her with  flowers. Valerie had been nice, beautiful, and smart - maybe a little too smart for Steve. Don’t get him wrong, Steve loves strong, smart, and capable women. He loved hearing Valerie speak about physics and graphing linear equations, he loved learning about what interested her, but as the night went on he could see the light in her eyes fading as he kept asking her questions. The final straw had been when he told her he hasn’t read a book since high school and she laughed lightly before saying “you really are only a pretty face.” 

“Maybe, I’m just destined to be alone, or like a back up plan for girls who come back to Hawkins after giving up on their big city dreams.”

Robin sighs and gives him a reassuring pat, “Steve, you’re a good man. You’ll find your one, trust me on this.”

Before he can say more the bell jingles as a gust of hot air is let in. Steve groans as he spots Dustin’s mop of curly hair and hears the chatter of 6 other teens. He holds the door open with his arm as he sees Lucas struggling with Max’s wheelchair. 

“You guys can’t keep coming in here, Robin and I actually have work to do you know.”

“We wanted to pick a movie for movie night,” Max says. 

He sighs softly as he meets her eyes. Steve’s always had a soft spot for Max ever since they’ve met and it’s only gotten softer since then, everyone knows this, but the kids tend to take advantage of this and use Max to get their way. 

“Alright two movies max and no rated r ones.”

As he hears the bell jingle again he starts his greeting in a monotone voice, “Welcome to Family Video, my name is St—” he chokes. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you ask softly. 

He’s still coughing and panting slightly as he tries to give you a reassuring nod. Robin makes her way to the front to hand Steve some water and finish introductions. 

“What he means to say is his name is Steve and I’m Robin. You can come get us if you have any questions.”

You nod politely, finally tearing your gaze away from Steve as you start browsing through the racks. Steve, however, can’t seem to stop looking at you. He’s seen a lot of beautiful women in his life, but none of them held a candle to you. Everything about you was just perfect to him and he didn’t even know you yet. His eyes repeatedly traced the slope of your nose, down to your plush lips, and back to your furrowed eyebrows as you read the back of a tape. 

You lift your head up and he blushes as you make eye contact. 

“Do you have any recommendations for sci-fi, I just moved to town and need something to keep me from getting bored?” you ask shyly. 

“Err- We have a sci-fi section over there” Steve points to the rack behind him where the kids are gathered and quietly arguing over which movie to pick. 

You speak as you make your way over, “Yeah, but do you have any recommendations for me? I feel like I’ve seen all the good ones already.”

Steve's face falls as he tries to come up with an answer. 

“Have you seen Star Wars?” Dustin speaks up

Max and El groan loudly as you shake your head. 

“I tend to stay away from franchises, but what’s it about?”

Before Dustin can answer, Mike beats him to it, “It’s about galactic adventures of these characters, it’s pretty cool.”

“We were planning on watching it tonight, we always have movie nights at Steve’s on Friday. You should join us!” Dustin exclaims as he tries to shoot Steve a sly wink. 

Your eyes grow wide at the sudden invitation as Steve rests his head in his hands too embarrassed to speak. 

“Is that alright with you, Steve?” You ask kindly. 

Steve’s breath hitches as he hears you say his name, he slowly meets your gaze as he gives you a slight nod trying to avoid choking on air again.

Robin smirks at Steve as she hands you a post-it, “Here’s Steve’s address. Movie starts at 7 and bring as many snacks as you’d like!”

You grab the post-it and shoot everyone a small wave “I’ll see you guys then!”

Steve feels like he can finally breathe after he hears the soft slam of the door behind you. 

_

“I can’t believe you would do that, just invite a stranger to my home like that,” Steve groans as he fixes his hair, again, in the hallway mirror. He glances down at his polo debating if he should change his shirt for the fourth time. 

“Steve, she agreed to come while seeing you in a Family Video vest, I don’t think your outfit is what you should be worried about,” Jonathan teases him as he passes him a coke. 

Steve shoots him a sarcastic smile before checking his watch. It’s 7:02, you should’ve shown up 2 minutes ago and he’s a nervous wreck. He sees your headlights before anyone else does and trips over Will’s backpack as he waits to open the door on the very first knock. 

“Sorry I’m late, the petit fours took longer than expected.” You smile at him holding out a large container filled with small cakes. 

He gives you a confused look too embarrassed to ask what petit fours are, so instead he takes the container and waves you in. 

“What brings you to Hawkins?” Eddie asks.

“I actually came here for work, Hawkins laboratory needed another scientist to look at all the crazy stuff that’s happened here.”

Everyone basks in the uncomfortable silence as you mention the lab before Nancy speaks up, “You work as a scientist? You seem pretty young.”

You hesitate slightly, folding your hands in your lap, “I am young, but I graduated college at 16 and recently got my PhD and my advisor recommended me for this job, so here I am.”

Steve’s heart falls to his stomach, you were a genius, a child prodigy of some sort and you’ve accomplished so much at such a young age. There was no way you would even be slightly interested in him, but part of him was willing to take that risk - be okay with whatever you spared him because it was better than not having you in his life at all. 

The movie is ignored as everyone pays more attention to you and your genius-ness. He hears voices all at once but all he can focus on is yours. The way your laugh ends in a higher pitch than it starts in, the way you softly reassure Nancy that college isn’t hard, but his favorite is when you say his name when you ask for his opinion on the theories the kids present to you. It makes him feel important like you care about what he has to say and you value his thoughts just as much as you would anyone else’s. 

Steve might’ve only met you today, but he was already enamored. You might’ve knowingly opened the door only to Family Video, but you also unknowingly opened the door to his heart and started to fill every corner of it with you. 

_

Steve doesn’t think he’s read this much in his entire existence as he has this month.

The first thing he did the morning after movie night was go to the library and check out as many books as he could about everything that sounded smart. He’s inhaled almost every book on poetry (specifically Shakespeare), astrophysics and European history. You’ve come to every movie night since the first one and you try your best to visit Family Video after work just to chat with Steve and Robin. He was slowly falling in love with you and he wasn’t going to let his dumb brain be the reason he lost you. He forcefully read every book from cover to cover, prying his eyes open with the memory of your impressed smile anytime he fell asleep. He’s made countless flashcards and pesters Robin to quiz them during their shift. 

After two months of revising and memorizing he thinks he finally finds the courage to ask you out. You’re the last one to leave tonight, helping Steve clean up after everyone either left or claimed a spare room. 

Steve’s hands are clammy as he ties the trash bag into a pretty bow, “I was wondering if… I mean you don’t have to… but umm, like if you wanted to go out. With me, I mean.”

Your eyes trace his face as you clench the empty red vines wrapper, “You mean like a date?”

Steve nods, unsure of your reaction. Part of him hopes you’ll say no and put him out of his misery, so he can finally stop learning, but a bigger part of him hopes you’ll give him a chance. 

Your lips upturn in a shy smile as you fiddle your thumbs, “Yeah, I’d like that a lot. What did you have in mind?”

“How about next Friday, we ditch the losers and have our movie night? I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can catch a movie?”

You respond with a quick kiss on his cheek as you grab your purse and head out. Steve rests his head on the back of the door as he pumps his fist in the air and tries his hardest to not  wake Robin and Eddie with his cheering. 

_

You’re nervous as you pace in front of your door. Steve makes you nervous, but you don’t hate the feeling. You’ve never felt this way about a boy before, boys always had a competition with you, a majority of your dates ended up with the two of you trying to up each other with accomplishments, but with Steve everything is different. Even though the facts he tells are wrong, it was still endearing to watch him try. 

You’re broken out of your thoughts with a knock on your door. You smooth down your dress and look in the mirror once more before swinging the door open. Steve stands there in all his glory, hair perfectly done, snug jeans, and a bouquet of flowers covering his stupidly handsome face. 

“These are for you,” he pushes the bouquet towards you with a surprise force that you have to step back to avoid them pressing into your nose. 

“Thanks Steve, they’re beautiful.” You set them down gently at the nearby table mentally making a note to find a vase after you come back home. 

He opens his car door for you, waiting until you’re settled in before jogging back to his side. “There’s a French movie playing tonight, I think it’s about Marie - Annette, you know the queen who liked cake?” 

You giggle quietly but opt to ignore his mistake because he just looked too fucking cute with furrowed eyebrows and a nervous smile. 

“And after the movie I was thinking we can stop by somewhere for a late night snack?”

You nod excitedly eager to finally spend time with him far away from the eyes of your prying friends, “I didn’t know you knew French?”

“Uh, yeah.”

The movie was… boring and bland. Steve didn’t understand anything happening so instead spent the entire time admiring you, the furrow of your eyebrows, the tilt of your head, and the gentle bite of your lip. He remembered you mentioning to Robin that you were fluent in French, so thought a foreign film would be a good idea for a first date, but now he regrets his choice especially since you spent the drive to the diner asking him questions about the movie. Questions he didn’t know the answer to. Steve has charmed his way through life, but he wasn’t sure how much longer his charm would last with you, he had an inkling that sooner or later you would be able to see through his facade and you would see him as a disappointment.

_

You had a hunch that Steve was lying about knowing French and your hunch was confirmed when his shoulders tensed as the ticket guy told him the movie didn’t have English subtitles. He played it off with a laugh and a wave of his hand, but you could tell it made him nervous. You thought the movie was alright, but your favorite part was feeling Steve’s eyes on you. You try to be mindful when asking him questions, keeping them vague and more about opinions rather than asking him questions that have a right or wrong answer. He responds as vaguely as possible, gauging your reaction to see if you’re pleased with his answer or if he needs to backtrack and fix his opinion. 

Your conversation at the diner starts to get more personal as you ask each other about your likes and dislikes. You learn that Steve broke his arm learning to ride a bike, his favorite color is green, and he’s always wanted a dog. Everything you learn about Steve just makes you like him even more and the potential of falling in love with him makes you giddy with happiness. Your hands brush occasionally as you walk back to his car. He bites his lip hesitating to grab your hand as he peeks at you from the corner of his eye. You make the decision for the both of you and take a hold of his hand swinging both your arms as he blushes. 

“You’re really cute Steve Harrington,” you say as you force him to face you before gently pushing your lips to his. 

_

You spend every free time you have with Steve now. It’s been a month since your first date and since then you’ve gone out plenty of times and if you’re not physically together then you’re talking for hours on the phone. Steve’s able to open up to you more than he has to anyone else and it’s only been a few months of knowing you but he knows he’s in love, yet he can’t ask you to be his girlfriend. He does everything a boyfriend should do, calling you during breaks, kissing your bad days away, and hugging you just right when you’re on the verge of tears, but he still can’t find the courage to ask you to be his, officially. 

You express your concern to Nancy and Robin at an impromptu girls night, thrown together after a rough week for all of you. 

“I just don’t know why he won’t ask me, I always want to ask him myself before I see him, but then I lose my nerve. Maybe he doesn’t even like me like that and I’m just reading into things,” you whine as you smear a homemade face mask on Robin's face. 

“Trust me, Steve is a goner for you,” Nancy replies as she squints to make sure her brushes on the nail polish perfectly. 

“Nance is right, Steve is in love with you, but you just make him nervous.”

“I don’t understand why though, how do I make him nervous when he’s Steve Harrington,” you sigh dreamily. 

Nancy and Robin giggle as they see the childish frown on your face. You push your face into a pillow whining into it like a petulant child. 

Nancy rubs your back gently, “Look it’s not my place to say, but Steve isn’t the smartest tool academically. And you’re this child prodigy and that makes him nervous.”

Robin nods in agreement, “Yeah, you do know he spent months reading all sorts of books just to impress you right? He isn’t actually as smart as he pretends to be. He just memorizes a bunch of stuff the days leading up to your date.”

You huff in annoyance, “Yeah, I knew that on our first date when he took me to that French film. But I don’t love him because he can tell me facts about the mesozoic era. I love him because he’s him.”

Nancy and Robin share a knowing look.

“You love him?” Robin whispers.

“What?”

“You just said you love him,” Nancy clarifies.

You breathe in deeply before letting it out, the weight of what you said finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. I really do.”

Both girls squeal as they pull you into a hug, face masks and nail polish quickly forgotten. 

You fall asleep that night knowing the next time you see Steve you’ll tell him. Tell him how much you love him and how he means to you.

_

Unfortunately for you and Steve, you aren’t able to spend any time alone lately. Work is crazy for the both of you and any time you have off it’s spent with the group. While you love spending time with your friends, you’re dying for a second alone with Steve. A second that only you both can cherish when you finally tell him how you feel. 

You’re hoping you can finally catch a moment alone with Steve at the summer bonfire by Lover’s Lake. Almost every young adult in Hawkins comes out of hiding for this annual bonfire, usually thrown by college kids as a final hurrah before summer break is officially over. You hung out with Nancy and Robin for a while and meet some new people, but you’re aren’t able to find the one person you want to see. You finally spot him parking his car and hurriedly shoving his family video vest in the trunk, but before you call out to him you’re blocked by a freckled boy wearing a smug smile. 

“Well if it isn’t the new genius of Hawkins,” the boy teases, voice filled with malice.

You smile politely, “I’m sorry you’re–”

“I’m Hagan. Tommy Hagan, surprised Steve hasn’t mentioned me considering we used to be the best of friends before he became a loser.”

You’ve heard about Tommy, mostly through passing from Nancy and Jonathan and based on Steve’s disgruntled face every time his name was mentioned, you decided Tommy Hagan wasn’t worth your time. 

“How can I help you?” You ask in a monotone voice to show how disinterested you are. 

Before Tommy can start you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist and lips brush against the side of your head. You turn to see Steve’s grimace at Tommy before his eyes soften landing on you. 

“Hi hon,” he whispers gently, his left arm moving from caressing your hip to soothing the ache in your shoulder. 

“Hey baby.” For a second it’s just the two of you lost in each other’s eyes, you wonder if everyone else can see how lovesick you are for Steve. Before you can whisk him away for yourself Tommy interrupts again.

“Damn, Harrington. Didn’t think I’d see you go all soft again after what Wheeler did to you.”

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Nancy. It’s been years, both Steve and Nancy were over it, being happy for each other and supporting each other as friends. Yet everyone still brought it up because they had no other dirt on Steve. 

“Didn’t know you were home for the summer Tommy,” Steve replies ready to end the conversation with his former friend. 

At this point you see Jonathan and Eddie glancing from their spot near the fire. Both of them looking at Steve, silently asking him if he needed them. Steve shakes his head at them and squeezes your shoulder readying to lead you away. 

“Yeah, summer is the only time I have off now. Between college and my internship. It’s hard out there man, but you wouldn’t know that, would you?” Tommy smirks knowingly as he pushes Steve’s buttons. He knows college has always been a sore spot for Steve especially since he was still stuck working at Family Video. 

Steve grunts in response hoping his disinterest is enough to stray Tommy away from the both of you, but with Steve’s luck Tommy turns his attention to you. 

“Surprised he can keep up with a genius like you sweetheart.”

You wrinkled your nose in disgust, the term of endearment turning sour coming from a mouth other than Steve’s.

Tommy continues to go on, swaying from the few too many drinks he’s had. “Did he tell you he barely passed high school? His dad complained to mine about how much of a disappointment he turned out to be. Can’t even get a job at his dad’s firm with the brain he has.”

Steve loosens his grip around your shoulder, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 

“You’re telling me your girl hasn’t caught on to the kind of screw up you are Harrington? You sure she’s a genius, or maybe you found someone that aligns with your IQ.”

At this point everyone is watching the words fly out of Tommy’s mouth, some snickering others shooting Steve looks of pity. Tommy Hagan is ripping him to shreds in front of everyone and yet all he can focus on is you. A look of disappointment mixed with frustration glazing over your otherwise sweet disposition. He sees his friends pushing their way through the crowd but before they could defend him he hears your honey like voice calling out for Tommy. 

“What university did you say you go to, Tommy?” you ask sweetly.

“Indiana University of Business,” he smirks behind his beer.

“And I’m assuming your daddy paid for it? Cause you sure as hell didn’t get into school by your merit, considering you spent most of high school with your head so far up people’s asses that you couldn’t get enough oxygen to your brain. Hence, why you and your stupid ass are still playing into high school politics at your grown ass age.”

The smugness on Tommy’s face disappears. 

“And what do you want to do with your future Tommy? Join daddy’s business? Turn out exactly like him? Cause last I heard he spends more time with his new family than he does with you. Maybe he finally got a child he actually loves.”

You knew it was a low blow, bringing up Tommy’s family issues, but you couldn’t care less. After everything he said to Steve, he had it coming and you only wish you were around in high school so you could’ve put him in his place earlier. 

You heard a low whistle from Eddie, “Well guess the shows over folks. And looks like we have a clear winner.”

People start clearing out going back to mind their own business and you grab Steve’s arm leading him far away from Tommy’s frozen stance. 

“Guess the secret’s out,” Steve mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Now you know I’m not really smart, so..” he trails off.

You smile, arms twisting around his waist pulling him close. “You know, I’ve met a lot of smart people in my life, but don't you dare, even for a second take Tommy’s words to heart. Because I know you, and I know that you’re the greatest person I’ve ever met.”

Steve pinches your chin, holding your gaze before whispering out a shy “yeah?” 

You hear the insecurity laced in his voice as you nod fervently. “I kinda figured you weren’t as smart as you let on from our first date, but I said yes because even though you aren’t a brainiac you have a heart of gold. I see the way you take care of the kids, how you take care of your friends. And I love how you take care of me. I love you and everything about you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve blushes, his cheeks turn a rosy hue as he grabs your waist pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so sweet you think you’ll get a toothache. 

“You really love me?”

“I really do.”

Steve presses another kiss before murmuring out an I love you against your lips.

Yeah, Steve Harrington is stupid. Stupidly in love with you. 

[that-one-p00k1e]

Just Like a Movie Scene, Table for Two

Their love language towards you - Obanai, Giyuu, & Sanemi x reader (separate) | part 1

TW: most likely OOC

Been getting lazy lately, might start writing for Mashle Idk😞 Also Giyuu's part ended up being wayy longer than intended😢

Obanai Iguro - Gift Giving & Quality Time

Not much needed to say here tbh, it's quite obvious from how he treats Mitsuri.

Due to his traumatic past, he nurtured a distaste for women. To add to that, most females in the Corps were weak and lacked physical strength, furthermore skills in hunting demons. Thus, he looked down upon them even more. But once he finds a girl who could light his candle, he'll pour every ounce of himself to give her the love he thinks she deserves. It'll take time for him to open up to you, but the signs wouldn't be discreet.

He'll give you gifts from time to time, offer you to hang out with him or have lunch together. He'll listen to you talk your heart out, admiring the way your face lights up as you tell him how your day went. You mostly did the talking, he just occasionally hummed or nodded to indicate himself paying attention. If possible, he'll take every chance to spend any unoccupied time with you. Your bright and beaming presence had become one of his escapes from the dark and bitter reality of this world. 

During those times together, he'll take mental notes of all the things you mentioned you like, and always put it into consideration when deciding on a gift for you. He'll find a way to combine the different things you adore into one form of a present. It may take him quite the effort and time to put his mind into it and figure out a conclusion, but it never goes to waste as long as he could bring out that beautiful smile in you.

Giyuu Tomioka -  Acts of Service & Quality Time

He is no less than a man of few words; having difficulty interacting with others. Thus, when it comes to commitment in a relationship, he'd prefer to execute it through physical effort rather than going vocal. Other than not being able to express his feelings verbally, he believes actions tend to speak louder than words. He would be the kind of person that pays attention to the smallest details of your body language. Had you made subtle gestures of discomfort, he'll take notice of it rather quickly and immediately tend to it.

Once, he was in the middle of listening to your daily rambling when he saw how you kept rubbing your hands together and occasionally placing it on your neck, presumably seeking warmth. Without much thought, he took off his haori and placed it around you, making sure to cover your hands with its long sleeves. “You're cold.” If he could, he would've cupped your hands by now to provide further comfort. Unfortunately, he knew well that his hands were no less colder than the weather itself; not to mention how unaccustomed he also was to physical contact.

Being in the position of a Hashira means holding many great responsibilities; the more responsibilities to bear, the less time available to be spent together alone. Hence why Giyuu tries his best to see you whenever he can. If he had an empty schedule for the day, his first thought would be spending it with you. He'd take you out on a walk around town and market at night, and get you things he noticed your eyes have taken interest upon (despite your resistances and denial). If not in the mood for a crowded environment, you two would sit together somewhere more  secluded, like a pond located in the woods.

He was glad that you were the one who always started the conversation, knowing how he could only do otherwise. Though even if there were to be silence itself between the two of you, no sense of awkwardness could infiltrate the comfort you both had by simply being in each other's presence.

Sanemi Shinazugawa - Physical Touch

He may not admit it, but he's often touch-deprived.

It was agony for him to hold back the urge to come up to you and just circle his arms around your waist whenever he saw you; his ego and pride refusing to let his guard down. He didn't want to seem weak, to let his well-known indifference falter and be viewed as soft in the face of others. Yet, behind closed doors, he clings to you like his life depended on it. He's been craving your touch for the whole day, especially after having to put up with lower-ranked slayers who drained his mental energy (berating them to death).

He'd come home falling into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he finally could let his muscles loose. The two of you would tell how each other's days went, with him laying on your abdomen as you played with his hair. He tried his best to stay awake and keep listening to you, really, but the feeling of your fingers skillfully easing the nerves in his head through the scalp was driving him to the edge of falling into slumber. Eventually, as the fatigue was too strong to be fought back, he finally surrendered and let his mind drift off to sleep, all in the while of your melodic voice.

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 08. LOSING DOGS

a/n: i can't really explain why i took so long with this chapter. possibly because of how much i don't want this series to end and we're so close. but also it's just been hard to find the inspo as of late. but thanks to a movie day with @soulores where we yearned and screamed and laughed over this man, and well me rewatching the deadpool movies 1 & 2 for wade inspo i managed to finish this. it's been a ride delving into their angst and i hope you enjoy! we're one more chapter away from the ending and from this man's happy ending.

summary: time spent apart gives logan a chance to grieve - to mourn the family he lost. it gives you the opportunity to come to terms with what loving the wolverine means. the consequences that come with the choice of betting on someone like him. after all, he's not a violent dog...he just tends to bite harder than necessary.

word count: 7k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, angst, grief, dual pov chapter sorta, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, wade wilson therapist, laura kinney is here to stay everyone, crying, pain, emotional turmoil, ptsd, time.

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You don't sleep anymore.

This wasn't due to a lack of exhaustion—you were always tired—you simply couldn't bear to withstand the dreams longer than necessary. They filled your head with their brutality. Ripped apart your psyche in such a short time frame, only to leave you split open and bleeding for the buzzards and vultures to pick at. You were surprised Wade never commented on how you resembled a walking corpse day after day.

Walking amongst the living as your soul was claimed by the dead.

Nightmares quickly became your waking reality. A piece of what Logan left behind burrowed in your chest, settling further than you could ever reach. But that remained the horrid truth. You didn't want to get rid of it—you couldn't fathom the thought for longer than a few seconds. The remedies given by Wade, Laura, Ness, were all flimsy bandaids that you stripped off when they weren't looking—hoping that the darkness within would eventually consume you whole.

What existed in your mind—in the very depths of your heart—were all you had left of the man who disappeared without a trace.

Staring at the ceiling was easier. Tracing the cracks in the plaster, the worn in marks of people who lived here long before you ever would. You pretended that he lay beside you—his body inches away from reaching for you. In search of a slice of contentment to counteract the yawning grave that threatened to bury him alive. You could play along in this delusion, create a world of your own as your vision blurred.

Maybe if you wished hard enough...it would come true.

Eventually the need for sleep won, dropping shovel after shovel of dirt. Intent on burying you six feet under in a spot that was never meant for you. Memories played on a loop, a reminder of what could never be—a fate that had been mistakenly written in the stars— and you accepted it with a solemn heart that sang a long forgotten song.

One you never should have learned.

A creak echoed in the living room, your door left ajar in case you had to run. But the cadence of her footsteps had grown familiar to your weary ears. The drag of boots across hardwood, a shuffle here and there in her attempt to stay quiet. She hardly left your apartment anymore. Taking a spot on your couch like a guard dog you never asked to keep—a protector who took on the role her father was meant to fill.

Laura often fell asleep on the leather piece of furniture never meant to be utilized as a bed. You peeked your head out once to check if she needed anything, only to find her laying with her body faced closest to the door—a cracked picture frame of a much older version of your Logan placed on the table beside her. Her brows were furrowed, face pinched in fear, and for the first time you understood her relationship to the Wolverine.

She shared much more than his DNA.

She was plagued by his nightmares as well.

Your heart cracked a bit further at the knowledge that she might never have another night of peace in her life. Forever taunted by a past that should have been happy.

Sighing, you turned onto your side, staring at the neon glow of your alarm clock—a polaroid of Logan propped against the lamp. Wade took it months before you got the chance to meet the man who would drastically shift the course of your life. Two days ago you found it on your pillow—a chocolate bar beside it. Wade's attempt at making you smile.

Even if all it managed to do was make you cry.

Broken wet sobs that left your body wracked with shivers, your heart numb to each emotion that might have existed before he walked away. You'd gone over their explanations in your head numerous times. Mulled over each word and soft whisper of why. Yet nothing registered but the emptiness—the hollow ache that spilled over with grief.

No matter how often you patched it back up, he still managed to break his way back in. The reminder of his absence only served to split you down the middle—rendering you incapable of anything but pain.

"I miss him too."

Your body jolted at the soft sound of her voice practically filled to the brim with melancholy. She stood in your doorway, hands limp at her side, and for the first time you saw her as who she really was. A child who lost her father not once, but twice. Wordlessly you dragged the blankets back from his side of the bed, rolling to face her as she clambered onto the mattress still clad in jeans and a t-shirt.

You offered your own pajamas a week ago in the hopes of making her more comfortable. Only for her to reveal she slept in her clothes even at the mansion.

Just in case.

"What was he like? Your father." The topic of the older Logan rarely came up for you, his memory somehow entwined with the man you fell in love with. But Laura knew him best. She'd seen him at his worst, only to watch him become the father he was always meant to be. "You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to."

She sighed, shifting around as if to shed the layer of vulnerability that scratched at her. "Angry."

You smiled. "Always?"

"No," she breathed. This breached onto territory she wasn't used to, memories she never liked to look back on, but for some unknown reason...it made you smile. So she persisted in spite of the discomfort that gnawed at her stomach. "He took care of Charles for a long time before he found me. Or well before I found him. But he had a lot to be angry about."

"I imagine." And you could.

Humans were their own enemy at times, destroying all that was good in the world. After witnessing what Fortuna went through—where her path lay—you understood how people would rather villainize what they didn't understand. Logan faced it each day, the difference of being someone who slipped by unnoticed yet could never truly reveal himself.

A man that carried the grief of all he lost and persisted despite the pain.

"He would have liked you," Laura mumbled, her eyes growing heavy with sleep's desperate call.

"I don't think–"

"You're like Charles." Her eyes slipped shut, body sagging into the mattress, while you were stunned into silence. "That's why."

She fell silent before the words managed to sink deep into your mind—puncturing a spot of love that existed in spite of all this agony. A place that Logan claimed all to himself. Yet as you lay there, tracing the lines of his daughter's face with your eyes, you felt her memory merge with his. Creating a small corner of your world for her to reside in—a home in your heart.

Tucking the blanket around her shoulder, you met sleep's call with a pleased sigh. It gripped you tight, closing its arms around your steady beating heart. Unbeknownst to you as the clock struck two in the morning, a shard of your broken heart wedged itself back into place. Healing over with a jagged scar sewn together by the girl who longed for permanency in a world that offered her the bitter end of a short stick.

The girl who asked for her father and got a mother instead.

Burnt pancake batter filled your senses, burning the insides of your nostrils as you were roused from sleep to the sharp off key singing of Wade in your kitchen. The spot beside you was empty, the sheets cold, and with a ragged sigh you sat up. Rubbing the sleep from your bleary eyes. What slowly became your favorite part of the mornings—waking up beside a man who did everything he could to keep you between warm sheets—suddenly shifted into a horrid dream.

You were alone. Again.

The familiar prick of tears stung your eyes faster than you would have liked. Although that might have been the pancakes.

In sluggish movements, you dragged a flannel over your t-shirt to combat the frozen chill beginning to settle in the New York air. Fall was right around the corner, leaving you with a list of things to do before the apartment was back in working order. The window still sat unfixed—plastic taped over the gaping hole per Wade's instructions—and the radiator gave out after Fortuna's whip went through it.

"Just call me angel of the morning," Wade crooned, flipping another charred piece of bread onto a stack that began to lean four pancakes ago.

Laura watched it warily, her fingers gripped around a can of shitty soda you picked up for her two days ago. Coffee was offered as an alternative to her sugary habits; she offered to steal in case you were low on funds. You figured it was easier to appease than argue.

"Do you even know how to cook?" she muttered, taking another gulp.

"Such a ray of sunshine. It's like Logan is still here with us." Wade poured another glob of chunky batter onto your now ruined cast iron pan. "Tell me does that come from your genetics or is it a fancy power they gave you?"

She snorted, her claws coming free to stab at the pile and drag a pancake to her plate. "Genetics."

"I figured." He slid the syrup her way, the bowl in his other hand nearly tipping the batter onto the floor. "Use a fork, you alley cat. Housewives do not get paid enough to cook a fantastic meal and serve it too."

"You're not getting paid," Laura mumbled through a mouthful of food.

"Exactly." His head glanced towards the stove, eyes narrowed in mock irritation. "We should talk about that huh Feige."

A pancake slipped off the stack, hitting the counter with a heavy thud and you began to wonder if the bread was in fact what he said it was. Ever since you woke up in the mansion, Wade had been your chef morning noon and night. Each meal entirely came with  

Laura squinted at the smoke rapidly rising to the ceiling. "Maybe you should cook them for shorter periods of time."

"Don't question my methods, I'm a pancake champion Oliver." Her face scrunched, disgust flooding across her narrowed gaze. "Oliver and Company? Orange alley cat led and taught by the smooth dog Dodger?" She shook her head. "Greatest take on Oliver Twist to exist?"

"Never heard of it."

He dropped the bowl, jabbing a finger in her face quick enough to startle you where you hid by the doorway. "I hope you're ready to have your life changed Howlett Junior by the voice of Billy Joel taking away all our worries. Right sweet angel?"

Your attempt to meld yourself into the wall proved unsuccessful when Laura turned to smile at you, trepidation rising to the surface in her eyes. They watched you with an air of indecision. After Logan left you became a ticking time bomb—each second passing quicker than either of them expected—and one day when it was least expected...you'd explode.

Every emotion you tried to push down would shove its way to the front, rendering them unavoidable. That's what terrified you the most. It scared them too—you could see it hidden beneath looks of false joy and hopeful glances. They wanted you to heal, to survive this grueling time of solitude.

You simply didn't know if you had it in you to appease their worries.

Peeling away from the doorframe, you moved closer with soft unsure movements. So unlike the person from before who got over the unrelenting fear of being seen, of one day being known. He read you like a book, flipped the pages with enthusiasm and love, and you thought what resided in your own heart was enough to keep him reading. You believed he might put pen to paper and script what lay in the path of your lives spent together.

But he stopped reading weeks ago, shutting the half empty story to save you from the grief that devoured him from the inside out.

He let you remain unfinished. Perhaps that's how you were always meant to be.

"Tell me somewhere in that sexy mind of yours there's a version of Oliver and Company, cause I can't be surrounded by uncultured fiends," Wade rambled, tossing two pancakes onto a clean chipped plate he slid your way.

"I know of it," you replied. The meek echo of your voice sent a wave of shock through your system—so different, so unrecognizable.

You wanted to be known again, to exist in the confines of someone's mind. Wade and Laura offered up theirs on a silver platter—promising not to tarnish the fracture spirit housed in your weary body.

The burnt flavor of bread nearly made you gag, but Wade's smile forced you to swallow with a half hearted grin. "Isn't it a cartoon?"

Wade huffed. "And we’re comic book characters. What else is new?" Chewing happily on his own plate, he drowned his breakfast in a heaping wave of syrup that dripped onto your flour covered counter. "The offer to watch it today is on the table."

You swallowed thickly, nose wrinkled at the bitter flavor that stuck to the back of your throat. "Actually I'm gonna go into work today."

They froze. Unease stirring to life in the small kitchen as they regarded you with the hesitation you'd grown sick of facing. You couldn't be a recluse for the rest of your life, spending days watching movies on your couch with Wade—sharing quiet dinners with Laura at the table that housed a vase full of decaying flowers. Things wouldn't come to a halt because a man exited your life—they couldn't.

Logan left to heal.

It was time you did the same.

"I don't have much sick leave left," you began, the argument ready to leap off the tip of your tongue. "And my shift ends at six, which gives me enough time to pick up some actual dinner."

"Wolverine 2.0 goes with you," Wade replied—the stern lilt of his voice jarring you for a moment.

"Wade–"

"She goes."

There remained no room left to place your well thought out points in, no space for you to budge on his only demand. You supposed this was better than having both of them show up out of the blue. Your boss hardly let you get away with Logan showing up once or twice; two heroes would send them over the edge, eventually leading to your job being terminated.

You sighed, pushing the food around your plate for a second. "I guess she can learn something. Since she's supposed to be in school."

"You know I'm right here," she interjected, shoving the empty dish towards Wade.

"Hush. The adults are talking." He threw a wink your way, eyes glinting with a mischief that dimmed the day Logan left. The sight filled your lungs with air, hope settling at the base of your empty heart. "I'll pack the lunches."

Warmth filled the empty crevices of your body—sparking life into a part of you that had been vacant for weeks. "You don't have to."

"Shush. I've got to take care of my little breadwinner." He pinched your cheek hard enough to send pain flaring down your neck. "Besides I need to live up to my role as wifey or Ness will stop calling me that in bed."

Laura groaned, her eyes shutting to the sight of Wade's brash smile. "Gross."

"Ew," you replied, unable to hide the grin that cracked across your dried lips. "I didn't need to know that."

"Au contraire. If I had to hear you and Logan go at it for hours at a time. Kudos by the way it sounded like he gave phenomenal dick. You get to listen to me yap about my sex life."

Laura sped past you, vanishing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut with her boot. You couldn't blame her reaction. Hearing about her father's life drudged up pain that still existed in the back of her mind. Grief that she'd have to work through. Yet if she was anything like Logan, you'd have to face your own broken trauma in order for her to finally face hers.

"Yap?" you inquired, desperate to move on from the topic of him.

"Yeah. It's what all my fellow Gen Z’ers are saying."

With brows furrowed, you bit back the swell of laughter that bubbled up your throat. "Wade you're older than me by–"

His hand clapped over your mouth, muffling the remainder of your sentence. "Shhhh." A quick glance was thrown to the side. "Last I checked this is the Logan show. Not the Wade show. Well...not yet anyways."

"Hey Wade," you mumbled beneath a scarred palm that gripped your cheeks together. "Thank you."

For the first time all week...Wade gave you a smile that finally reached his eyes. Irises plagued with the same flicker of sadness that weighed heavy in your heart. The feeling of loss within a found family—of things changing faster than you could process. In an instant you were back to square one, struggling to keep your head above water.

Only this time you weren't swimming these dark waters alone. This time Wade and Laura clung to you, dragging what remained to a shore of a different color. A life yet to be explored.

"Anytime angel," he whispered with a kiss to your temple—drawing you close enough to feel his heart beneath the thin t-shirt. An organ that beat for one more person, that carved out space for his small inkling of hope.

For the family made up of two mutants, a blind woman, a sugar bear, the love of his life, and you.

The clatter of keychains echoed past the empty rows of shelves, bouncing off high ceilings decorated with yellowed lights. You caught sight of a small X-Men insignia stitched onto the side of the faded gray backpack. The stitches were frayed, the initials of L. K. H. placed right above it in sloppy angled sharpie, but the sight explained enough. Her entire life was stored within these aged pockets, in a pack held closed by a broken zipper and some faith.

"I like the Deadpool one." You watched her gloved hands toy with it for a moment, eyes glancing down the rows of darkened shelves every few moments.

Even here in the midst of silence and history, she remained on guard.

You wanted to promise a sliver of peace beyond all that she went through—a place where nothing happened except the shuffle of books and moving of boxes. Only to realize that you'd never be able to tell her something so untrue.

She'd never be entirely safe again. That made you want to rip at the world until your hands went bloody and raw. Until there remained a guarantee that she'd be able to sleep at night, that when her father came home things would be different.

"Peter made it." She picked at the black polish on her nails—the bottle swiped off your vanity a week ago in the hopes you wouldn't go looking for it. "Said a member of X-Force should have the marker."

"Didn't...they all die?"

"Yeah. So it's more of a warning I guess?" She grinned, wide and bright and so carefree it tugged sharply at your heart.

You placed another stack on the cart, fiddling with the order. If you kept yourself busy you could stop thinking about him. You could shove each memory and shared moment of bliss to the back of your mind. This was your chance to find a small semblance of normalcy after so much damage, a change in the rapidly shifting path of your life. You used to enjoy shelving pieces of history—find contentment in the familiar pattern of routine.

Now his eyes haunted your mind. His touch was a ghost along the back of your neck. His smile was reflected to you in the face of his daughter—the crinkles around her eyes an exact copy of his.

You were doomed to repeat history, destined to break as Fortuna did with a shattered heart and the hope that one day he might come home and find you. He'd open the apartment door set in place by his calloused hands and find you right where he left you—waiting as time stopped and dust gathered and your heart called for a man lost in time.

"I've got to shelve these," you said, voice thick with unshed tears you swallowed down. "But feel free to pick a book okay?"

She nodded, dragging a small journal out of her pack—a chewed up pen with it. "Wade gave me your lunch."

"I'll come find you in an hour?"

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were said more for your benefit than hers—a way to appease the constant flicker of unease in your mind. Perhaps this is what she lived with her whole life. The pain of yearning for someone to come back to her, to stay.

You'd be that person.

You would stay.

Smiling one last time, you pushed the cart into a row sparse with books—the light clicking on above your head as your footsteps echoed off the wooden floor. Your boss texted you quick instructions before she took the upstairs shift, the piles left behind for you to sort through. It seemed that classes were back in session, each book taken out regarding some form of historical information on New York.

Your eyes caught the titles while you worked. Sliding books into their proper spot and discarding the paper slotted in as a placeholder. It became a mindless task. A job of familiarity that your muscles immediately recognized—your arms moving of their own volition. Giving free reign to your mind that turned over information at a rapid rate.

What happens now? What would life turn into?

Now that you were back in a place that held so much of your soul you found that fitting back into the mold felt wrong. You were a human who got caught up in the affairs of mutants. It had happened before to others like you, it would certainly happen again. Yet you weren't sure you could handle the pain of being tossed into the ring with no means of protection again.

Your heart barely survived the first time.

To do it again would mean signing your name along death's dotted line. Only this time the pact would be sealed with your own blood.

A tilted stack of books slid onto their sides, grabbing hold of your attention quicker than expected. You slammed a hand against them with the hopes of saving yourself from extra work. Only for the one in your other hand to slip, hitting the cart with a thud and shoving it a foot away. Your mind went into overdrive—the noise of metal clanging against the tall shelves reverting into the all too familiar crack of a whip.

You gasped, leaping back as if the pile burned right down to your bone—the books toppling to the ground in rapid succession. A domino effect that would leave you crouching for a good twenty minutes to put everything back in its rightful spot.

"No," you exclaimed, your voice unwavering amidst the anxiety that filled your stomach.

Something ripped at the base of your spine, crackling through your body like a livewire. It pulled at every nerve, every tendon and muscle, until you were positive this was more than an overwhelming amount of stress. Your vision went black, a glare of light flashing behind closed eyelids, as the world went still and time rolled to a deathly halt.

Blue washed off your stiff form in rolling waves, curling around your stretched arms and down to the fingers that nearly curled around a book held in midair. A rush of cold air flooded your lungs, expanding them in your chest with a strength you'd never experienced before. As if the missing piece within your DNA finally settled into place—a spot always meant to hold something else.

A power that flared to life with a burning wave of heat.

It welcomed you like a long lost friend. Burrowed into the broken parts of your chest with a promise to put you back together. Time trickled by as your heart started up again—beating slowly against your ribs. Surging past each part of you that intertwined with this newfound link.

You sucked in another breath, eyes fluttering open with a flash of cerulean to see Laura struggling along the bookcase. Her face screwed up in pain, claws buried in the wooden shelves to drag herself forward. She moved an inch at a time, her cry unable to fill the vacant air as she struggled to rip you from the power that fractured your mind.

Such an inconceivable topic: time. Centuries prickled across your skin, millenniums made a home along each bone that grinded to a stop, decades offered you a life that might have ended at the age of eighty.

Infinity. Immortality. An end that rivaled Death.

Oh...what bliss.

"Yes," you relented. An answer to the question that would never be said aloud.

Another pulse of energy flowed off your shoulders, spilling across empty shelves—rattling the boxes that began to topple to the floor. If you weren't careful you'd bring destruction to a building that became your second home. But the consciousness you relied on was suddenly nowhere to be found.

"Stop!" Laura's voice struck you across the face, punching into your chest with enough blistering pain to wake up your mind to what was happening within you.

Slamming your hands against the shelves that stood on either side of you, the light of blue sputtered out, dying quick enough for you to get a hold of your body. Time fell back into place, the books you nearly dropped crashed to the floor with a loud clatter of thuds, and you collapsed. Your knees hit the floor harshly, pain coursing up your legs. Yet you could barely keep your eyes open.

"Laura," you wheezed, body sagging against the shelf.

She collapsed beside you, gathering your hands into a vice-like hold. "What happened? What the fuck was that?"

"Fortuna..."

"Is she alive? Is she here?" Her head raised, eyes scanning the vacant area for signs of your variant self.

"She–" Your vision swirled with spots of black, your head fuzzy with the prick of power that wanted to consume you. "I–"

"We gotta get you home," she muttered, shifting her strength to lift you to your feet—body braced heavily on her as she walked. "I'm calling a cab. Stay with me okay? Just stay awake."

The distant ring of her phone echoed in the background as she dragged you with her, a familiar muffled voice coming through the small speaker. Wade. You wanted to speak to him. Ask him what just happened. But only one person would hold the answers—only one person would make you feel alive again. You sucked in a shaky breath, hot tears spilling down your cheeks. The image of him—his smile, his love—filling your broken mind.

"I'm taking her home," Laura muttered into the line.

Her voice became a buzz in your ears. Sharp and unrelenting and inescapable. Your vision went dark, mind succumbing to the painful twisting of your gut—the need to be anywhere else overtaking every other thought. Laura called your name, shook your shoulders, but the world faded away before you could reach out and grasp it; your body sinking beneath the depths, drowning in the soothing waves of time.

“How did you sleep?”

“No nightmares.”

“Are you lying to me Howlett?”

“I’m not lying,” he confessed. “I didn’t really dream of anythin’ this time around.”

Your own laughter pricked at your ears. “Don’t tell me. It was because of me.”

“I think it might be bub.” His touch ghosted across your skin—breath a wash of hot air against your skin. “Guess you’re my cure. Been lookin’ for awhile.”

"Logan," you murmured, eyes fluttering open.

His smile lit up the darkness in your chest—eyes crinkled and lips parted in a sigh of love. "Yeah bub?"

"Y-You're here..."

A hand curled around the back of your neck, drawing you in close enough to make the steady beat of your heart flutter. "Where else would I be honey? I woke up with ya."

"But you've been gone." Your brows furrowed, the haze in your thoughts blocking anything other than him. "I was with Laura–"

He stilled. "Laura?"

"She was helping me," you mumbled, attempting to force your eyes to stay open. "At the library."

"You're just dreamin'," he chuckled.

"But I'm not–"

Lips that haunted you in your sleep brushed across the bridge of your nose—his fingers scratching at the base of your scalp with a hum. "You haven't met her yet honey. How could you be with her at the library?"

You wrenched your eyes open, clutching at the covers that lay over your bodies in an iron grip. "Fortuna–"

Logan's body went still, his head rearing back to stare at you in abject horror. "How do you know her name?" he rasped. "I never told you..."

"What are you talking about?" The buzzing filled each sense, each part of your already numb body. "Wait. No. I need more time," you begged, tears rushing to the surface.

His face blurred, your name a distant call on the tip of his tongue as the waves crashed over your body. Dragging you back to a shore meant for you. Darkness swallowed you whole in an instant. Until you could barely catch your breath—the speed of time rushing to a quick stop. Within the hold of darkness, the drifting peace of nothingness, you heard it.

The vibrant sapphire call of a woman you believed to be the enemy.

“Do better than me."

"Love him the way I couldn't.

You gasped, thrashing against the vice hold that wrenched you apart. The voice whispered soothingly in your ear, a warm compression against a heart that longed for more than this unfathomable excruciating ache.

She drew you to your feet, hands clasped around your wrists, and helped you stagger to the ocean's edge. She faced you with a mirrored smile that faded weeks ago—her eyes bright and flickering with peace.

"Do what I couldn't." Thumbs pressed into the base of your wrist. "Protect them. All of them."

A thick sob ripped from your chest—eyes blurry with tears that refused to stop. "How? I-I shouldn't be this."

"It was always meant to be you. Not me."

"W-What?"

"When Death asks for your hand. Take it. She will lead you home." The scathing brightness of sunlight burned your closed eyelids, pushing you towards something familiar. A place you knew would protect you. "Until then. Show them that time was never the enemy. We're simply their companion."

"Fortuna!" you cried, the form of her slowly dissipating back into the realm of darkness not yet meant for you. "I can't do this! I'm not supposed to be this!"

"Tell him I'm sorry."

Hands grasped at your shoulders. The cold press of metal against the bare skin of your arms jolted you awake—lungs expanding with air that felt like home. The floral scent of your laundry soap filled your nose, the warmth of your bed dragged along your body, and the brush of hair on your neck drew you back to the present. Your eyes fluttered open, chest heaving for any amount of air you could draw in.

"Laura?"

She sighed, dropping the hold she had on your shoulders. "You did it again."

"Did it again?"

"Looks like someone got jealous of all these special powers around her," Wade teased from the doorway of your room—a glass of water in his hand.

"What?" you croaked, suddenly aware of how raw your throat was.

He huffed, settling on the side of your bed. "You've got a bad case of the McFlys. Traveling to and fro in the timeline. Don't think the big guy upstairs will like that very much."

"God?"

"Victor."

You choked. "Who?"

"Or maybe it's Loki," he huffed. "I get that show's timeline confused. Anyways up you go. Drink this. Nurse Wade's orders."

With reluctance you downed the glass of water, Laura's watchful gaze burning into your from the chair. They moved with hesitation brimming to the surface of their eyes—a glaze of uncertainty prominent in each shift of their bodies. They were scared. Whether it was due to what you were turning into or what you could become. You couldn't be certain at this time, but the fear still lingered in the air.

Thick and bitter and so unlike the two mutants who'd become your family in the past few weeks.

"What's happening to me?" you whispered, Wade's hand reaching for yours with a placating grin.

"I've got one guess and it's dredging up memories of that fucker Francis, but dormant mutant gene." The panic in your eyes had him reaching for your other hand. "Hey look at me angel okay? I know how to handle this."

You shook your head, that unsettling twist in your gut rising to the surface. "I'm not...No. That's not possible. I would have..." You hiccuped, oxygen becoming harder to reach for as his words began to settle along your skin. "I would have known," you whispered.

"I didn't." He drew you close enough for his nose to brush your forehead. "That little surprise landed in my lap like a bad case of chlamydia. It's rare, but it happens."

"Why me?" you uttered, unable to process anything other than Laura's sharp gaze."

He sighed. "We don't get to pick and choose. Something must have triggered it."

Fortuna's hold on your jaw, the rocks scattered along the dirt digging into your back. It all came back to you. Her final words bleeding with an act of sacrifice—a promise to gift you with the curse she was unable to handle. Do better than her. Protect them better than her. Wield the ebbing and flowing of time better than her.

She awoke a part of you that had yet to come to life. A dormant section of your DNA that might have forever gone unnoticed if her powers hadn't unlocked it. She gave you everything, dropped the burden on your shoulders, because she knew something you didn't at the time.

You had people—a family, a lover—to keep you stable.

You had the one thing she couldn't save.

"It was always meant to be you. Not me."

Laura sat up, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "It's time."

Wade glanced over his shoulder. "We don't know where he is Oliver."

She sneered, digging out the small phone from her vest pocket. "I do. I gave him the keys."

"Call who?" you rasped, barely able to process that you were back home somehow.

Until her eyes met yours and drew you back to the surface with a name that burned right through your heart. "Logan."

The sharp thwack of an axe against wood filled the still air. Mist clung to the area, settling over his shoulders with a wet layer of frigid condensation. He felt it weigh in his hair, sink into his flannel, and send a wave of cold familiarity through his body. A place he never thought could exist in a different universe somehow stood the test of time. The Logan that came before was somehow more like his variant self than expected.

He sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead—the split open skin of his palms healing over before he could get a glimpse of them. The axe remained lodged into a mangled tree stump. Slivers and pieces of all that he chopped scattered in the clearing. He'd have to pick them up eventually, but he chose to stick with the same motion.

A piece of muscle memory he'd grown used to.

The sun began its descent beneath the thicket of trees, nightfall coming once more to a home occupied by a single person. Merely him and the stack of unread books left behind by a man who shared his taste. He yanked the flannel off his body, tossing it to the chair on his small porch, setting another log into place with a breath.

"Fuck," he muttered, cracking his neck slightly.

A mug of cold coffee sat discarded on the small table he constructed two weeks ago. A means to an end. A way to keep his racing mind busy from the pain that echoed like a bad dream in his head. He'd forgone the whiskey bottles stored in the liquor cabinet, opting for the bitter tang of the wine you preferred with your dinner.

The image of your smile kept him awake most nights. The sound of your laughter playing on a loop like a scratched record he clung to. This was his salvation. Your memory, your joy. It kept him going on days where the horrors threatened to drag him beneath the surface of the Earth.

He dug his grave long before he met you. Whether or not he crawled into it relied on one simple fact.

Though he dragged you through hell—became the cause of so much suffering within your life—you still loved him. You were waiting for him to come home.

"Desperado," he hummed, yanking the axe out of the splintered wood. "Why don't you come to your senses."

Discarding the tool to the side, he gathered what wood might be needed for a small fire. It wouldn't have any effect on whether he stayed warm or not, but it would put him at ease after such a grueling task. Tomorrow he'd go back to work at the yard—his measly paycheck enough to keep him fed with meals cooked in solitude.

He tossed them beside his fireplace, wiping the dirt and mud from his hands with the damp flannel. Life shifted the second Laura handed him the keys to this house on the edge of nowhere. Back to a routine he once knew so well. To a life that once offered him the facade of peace. He might have deluded himself into thinking it would happen again—that he'd get the chance to breathe again.

But your memory clung to his soul. You refused to release him from the spell of your love.

Fortuna's memory remained at the back of his mind like a long lost friend—someone who once offered him a future filled to the brim with hope. And then there was you. His honey. His lover till death. You were the reason he kept himself breathing, the reason his heart continued to thrum in his chest.

You were his savior, guiding him through the grief with a warm smile and a kiss of life.

The shrill ring of his phone broke the haze of memories he found himself in. Dropping into the chair beside his bed, he unlaced his boots—yanking the device out of the drawer on his dresser. He rarely needed it anymore. The contact he had with the rest of the world now whittled down to the people he worked with and the cashier at the small market.

With a sigh, he flipped it open in the hopes it was Wade calling to finally bug him about returning. It wouldn't be unusual. Weeks went by sluggishly, dripping like honey from the jar as he attempted to fix the broken parts of his heart.

Leaving without saying goodbye is what hurt the most. His silent kiss pressed to your cold forehead, his lingering gaze that did what he could to burn your features into his mind. He wanted you with him. Here in this small home. He wanted to hear your laughter fill up the empty spaces, the warmth of your love shining in the air with a palpable physicality that stole his breath away.

Logan ached for you.

But you didn't deserve a man riddled with demons. Certainly not the version of himself that left you behind.

Laura's name flashing across the screen set that familiar unease back in his stomach. The terror that something happened again—something brought you pain when he wasn't there to protect you—filled the crevices of his heart. And with a shaky breath, he answered.

"Laura."

She interrupted him before empty pleasantries could rise to the surface. "You need to come home."

He swallowed thickly. "What happened?"

"I can't explain over the phone, but it's bad. She's not gonna cope without you here."

"What the fuck do you mean cope?" he bit out, his eyes flashing to the small framed image of you that sat proudly on his nightstand. "Is she hurt?"

"No."

He sucked in a breath, relief washing over his shoulders. "Is she okay?"

Laura hesitated. "She's...broken." The word struck him with a visceral anger—an emotion that nearly caught him off guard. "She needs you here Dad. Wade and I can only do so much and if I knew she was dormant I could have helped sooner."

Dormant.

He stiffened, fingers tightening around the phone hard enough for it to crack. "What do you mean by dormant?"

Laura sucked in a breath. "She's..." A beat of silence filled his chest with a fear he never knew could exist in this universe. "She's like us, Dad. She's like her."

Like her.

The world shifted on its axis as he sat there listening to Laura's shaky attempts to explain what occurred. How you needed him this time around. His heart rammed an unsteady beat in the confines of his chest. An echo that rang with a crippling hollow promise of loneliness. Only this time it didn't scream for him—it raged for the person he loved.

The person he left behind.

"Send her here," he said. And before his mind could comprehend the words spilling past his lips, he made a vow he failed to keep—a promise he'd fulfill until his final breath. "I'll keep her safe."

note: this is incredibly late than what i originally planned, but life has been chaotic. and to everyone in the us who are struggling, i hope you take care of yourself this week. we got this and i love you.

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part five.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

only fluff from here on out who cheered!

summary: you and spencer spend a night together, and talk about making your relationship 'official'.

word count: 2030

a/n: this project has been such a labor of love (and obsession). this is the penultimate part, the finale will be posted on fri 9/27

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Spence POV

You had both decided that watching some movies in bed and eating your favorite takeout was the best way to end this tumultuous, heavy day. Spencer knew you were tired, and he fully anticipated you falling asleep mid-movie. It didn’t happen often, you always tried your best to stay awake or would communicate that you were ready to head to bed.

All the times you had had movie marathons together, you stayed the night. Spencer would always wake up in the morning, his arm wrapped around you and your leg over his. You both tended to gravitate towards each other in the middle of the night, no matter how far apart on the bed you were before bed. He cherished it more than he’d care to admit, and he was hoping for a repeat tonight. He put on an extra long movie knowing you would get bored and fall asleep.

While it was sneaky, he supposed he was allowed to do that now. The emotions were out and in the open, and while you both still needed to discuss what that entailed and where your relationship was going to go, or how it would change, he was selfish at heart. And with the lack of physical touch in these past few weeks, he was begging for an excuse to touch you.

“Y/N?” He nudged you softly, hoping you wouldn’t stir.

You didn’t. 

He turned the TV off, and hit the bedside lamp too. He checked to make sure your phone was plugged in before plugging in his own phone on his side of the bed. While it wasn’t technically ‘his side’ by any means, he was sure you hadn’t had anyone else in your bed. Minus maybe Angela. And it might as well be his side anyway, considering he had had his own charger plugged in on that side for months, and it hadn’t been moved. He also had a backup pair of glasses here, and half your dresser was filled with his clothes. Though mainly that was because you stole so many of his shirts. 

Once he had calmed you down from his intrusion, he had noticed you were already in one of his shirts. An old, tattered Creed shirt he had retired once he bought a new one. You stole it almost immediately. He smiled to himself, finally letting himself relax.

He knew the morning would entail a long and emotional conversation, but for now he was going to give into his selfish ways, and hold you tight to him while you slept. Hopefully you wouldn’t mind if he was still here in the morning.

He set an alarm for 10am, kissed the top of your head, featherlight, and drifted off to sleep himself.

//

Reader POV

You woke up naturally, no alarm blaring or construction starting. You took your time fully opening your eyes, the sunlight hitting your face a little too hard for your liking. You hadn’t closed the curtains last night before bed, something you’re usually pretty good about. Hmm. A noise to your left startled you slightly. That’s when you took note of your extremities. You were wrapped up in Spencer’s legs, the covers haphazardly thrown across the two of you. The noise was simply him shuffling, but you had fallen asleep so suddenly last night you hadn’t realized he had stayed.

But, the realization made you quite happy. Your heart started to pick up its pace again, and you willed it into normalcy. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it. But how could you ask your heart to act normal when you weren’t sure what normal was anymore? Everything was changing. And that was fucking scary. Change is hard, change is painful, but it’s happening. Constantly. Besides, this was good change, right? The kind you had wanted for so long now? Why harp on the fact that it’s change and not harp on the fact that you were finally going to be with your soulmate? You decided to just enjoy this moment, instead of letting it fester deep inside and drive you crazy. 

Spencer’s curls had gotten all messy in his sleep. You knew that happened, you had stayed the night with him more times than anyone else in your life. This wasn’t the first time you had woken up together, your limbs woven tighter than you thought possible, drool drying on the corner of one or both of your mouths because you both slept better when you slept next to each other. You almost always woke up first, and you were thankful for that. It gave you time to stare at Spencer openly. Sometimes you pretended to be asleep when he started waking, so you could hear him whisper sweet things to you while you ‘slept’.

You hadn’t been able to look at him like this in so long, and you took advantage of it. You pushed his brown curls out of his eyes, your touch as light as you could manage, not wanting to wake him prematurely. But Spencer lay dormant, hands under his head as he faced you. His chest was rising and falling in a slow rhythm, clearly at peace. Trailing your finger along his shoulder, then torso and hips, you ran the length of his body. Then you brought your eyes back up to his face, hoping the sun was hitting him just right and giving him that beautiful morning glow. And it was, but his green eyes were shining down at you now. “Hi,” he whispered. His face was lit up, a toothy smile and glittering eyes, the sun draping over him and painting him in gorgeous gold.

His hand reached for yours, a Midas touch. A warmth unmatched blossomed in your chest, spreading and filling every atom of your existence. You felt like liquid gold, and your eyes filled with tears, unprompted. You gave in and let them spill over. Spencer pulled you close, tears spilling from his eyes as well. At least you both knew they were happy tears this time.

You lay in his arms for some time. No words, no more tears, just the sound of both of your hearts beating in tune. The moment was ruined by Spencer’s alarm. 

“Jesus, sorry, I forgot to turn that off.” Spencer rolled over, hitting the ‘stop’ button. He grabbed your hand again, “I was a little distracted.”

“Whatever by?” You cocked your head, feigning innocence.

Spencer leaned in close, and the air was ripped from your lungs. “By my partner. If you’ll have me, anyway?”

He glanced to your lips, and you had to force your lungs to start working again. “Only if you’ll have me, too.” You closed the minimal distance between your lips, doing your best to remain calm.

It was soft, chaste, and everything you had been fantasizing about for six goddamn years. It didn’t last too long, it wasn’t too hot and heavy right off the bat. It was Spencer. And it was perfect. Of course it was.

You pulled back, noting Spencer’s blown pupils. “I probably should have asked before I did that. Sorry.” 

“Consent is important but I promise I am not complaining, Peach.” He leaned in again, smiling. “You can do it again, if you want.”

How wonderful it was to be able to laugh while kissing someone. This couldn’t be considered a make-out session by any means, it was much too silly. That’s to be expected of you and Spencer, though, isn’t it?

He kissed you, and kissed you, and kissed you. It wasn’t always the right angle, what with the amount of laughing and smiling you were both doing, but it was still perfect to you. You let Spencer’s hands wander over you, and he kept asking if it was okay when he reached a new area. Your arms, your torso, your legs. He didn’t come too high up your thigh, and he never reached around to your ass. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Agnew was.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get my head out of my ass, baby, really,” Spencer breathed, his lips on your neck. You shuddered at the new nickname, wanting to hear it again. “We could have been doing this for years, huh?” You could only nod in response. He pulled back, putting a minute amount of space between you. Far enough that you weren’t touching all over, but close enough that he was still very much in your bubble. You loved it. Especially because he knew exactly what you wanted, often without you needing to voice it.

“Y/N, I love you so much,” he started, “And I’m pissed we lost so much time, really, and I can’t apologize enough for making you wait.” He laced your fingers together, rubbing circles into your hand, just like you did for him yesterday. “But I also don’t want to rush this. We might have been in love with each other for years, at least I have, but this is still a new relationship, you know?” 

You started tearing up again, but only because you were enamored with Spencer’s thoughtfulness and vulnerability. “Good tears,” you laughed, reassuring him. “Thank you, for being so honest with me. I feel the same way, actually.” He kissed the back of your hand, nodding for you to continue. “This,” you gestured between the two of you, “is still us, still our friendship. But the relationship aspect is new, and we should treat it as such, right?”

Spencer nodded, enthusiastic that you were on the same page. “Exactly! I don’t want us to, like, jump right into it just because of the history we have. I want to take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and get to know you all over again. I don’t care how many times you’ve told me about your favorite movie – tell me about it again. Show me your favorite albums again, your favorite TV shows and stand-up specials. I want to discover you all over again.”

The tears were falling in droves at this point, and you were really wondering how you wound up so lucky. “Fucking hell, Spence. Are you trying to kill me?” You wiped your tears on your shirt, laughing. “You’re so fucking perfect. Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I love you, babe. Do you want to get some breakfast?”

“Or I could make us breakfast?”

“Fuck yes.”

//

After breakfast you both decided it was time to have the dreaded conversation. ‘Dreaded’ because you both would rather be lazily making out right now and watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, but instead you had to talk about ‘feelings’ and ‘labels’ and ‘hard and soft launches’. God, dating nowadays was so stupid. Especially when you’re dating your best friend of eight years and you’re both entirely unsure where your limits were because for years there were none. None that were spoken anyway.

Spencer wanted to go public immediately, because, according to him “anyone who doesn’t want to show you off is fucking insane”, but you thought it might be better to wait a little while. You don’t have to pull the long con like Court and Shayne, but just having the office and your friends knowing would be good enough until you both settled into this.

“Then we could maybe be annoying and drop little hints on IG or in videos, see who all catches on,” You offered, knowing his mischievous side would absolutely love that.

“So many fans already ship us anyway, it might be fun to drive them a little crazy with it.” Spencer laughed, bright and full of love, and you just could not believe you finally had Spencer to yourself.

Realistically, you had for a few years now, but now it’s real.

The conversation wasn’t as long as you had expected, luckily you were both on the same page about nearly everything. Soulmatism is just like that, you supposed. After about thirty-or-so minutes, you both had worked it all out and decided another lazy day in bed was in order.

You could get used to how easy it was to love Spencer, and how he made you feel even easier to love.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

[matchibee]

Wedding Ring

a misunderstanding between you and Miguel. I didn’t proofread but I did cry

Empty days and lonely nights. From sunrise to sunset your every waking moment felt as though it was spent on your lonesome, only your darling daughter there to fill the void running rampant in your heart. A cavernous void not even the love of a child could fill.

Not when Miguel was the one that carved the path, yanked the love from within your chest and took it with him wherever his whim took him.

“I’m head of the Spider Society,” He’d told you a million times before, words he’d utter a million more. “They depend on me. I can’t abandon them because you’re…” Miguel bit his lip, ceasing himself from continuing his words, knowing he was in the wrong.

The two of you had confined yourselves to your bedroom, Gabriella seated happily upon her plush comforter, some sparkly movie gathering her entire attention.

This was the first time you’d seen Miguel in days, perhaps weeks. The only time you heard his voice or felt his touch was in the midst of slumber, his shadow slipping into bed beside you only to depart before the sun rose again.

An awful cycle, one that was taking its toll, you could feel it.

“I just miss you, that’s all.” You took a seat on the bed,

“And I miss you more,” Miguel spoke, his hand encapsulating your shoulder, a whisper of what you craved. “But I have responsibilities away from you, that don’t concern you. Everything I do is to keep the both of you safe.”

And you knew he was right, of course he was. Miguel wasn’t himself if he wasn’t protecting, providing. That was his personality, his calling. But you’d be damned if you didn’t admit you’d thought of the ways he lacked in his recent performance. “Everything concerns me,” Your words were firm, you refused to stand down, even if the situation had yet to escalate. “We are married, we are a team. Everything that happens to you concerns me because I need you to come home. I need you to be here and show that little girl you love her.”

Miguel groaned, a frustrated noise that stemmed from your lack of understanding, of compassion he wanted you to extend. “I’m doing my best.”

“Your best isn’t good enough, Miguel!”

The room fell silent, your eyes wide as Miguel shifted to his feet, clicking at a few buttons on his watch. “I have a mission I need to get to. I’ll try to be back tonight but… No promises.”

“Don’t do this,” You felt tears in your eyes, the burn erupting from your soul. “Get someone else to go.”

“I can’t do that.”

Tears slipped from your eyes, but you turned on your heel to keep Miguel from seeing, from questioning. With a nod of your head, hands enveloping your own frame, you urged him to go — to leave before you begged him to stay just this once, even if you knew the words would fall on deaf ears.

Miguel slipped through the window, and from the corner of your eye you watched, regretted your words.

Neaten, bloodied and bruised, Miguel slipped back through the window of your apartment. He’d left to tend to countless anomalies, variants persisting where they didn’t belong. And if you knew the truth about Miguel, you’d know he was just like them, inserting himself in a life where your Miguel was lost.

But he couldn’t leave you to suffer, couldn’t leave you to this life of misery. And what started out as a desperate yearning to be a father once more spiraled into something out of proportion. He’d established himself, invested his entirety into this universe. He’s be damned if he let it slip through his fingers.

But then he saw you nowhere to be found, your side of the bed empty, sheets still slick as though they’d never been touched.

Miguel sighed, figuring it was likely you’d confined yourself to the living room, needing a moment away from a place where words were the ultimate misdeed.

In the midst of his exhaustion Miguel slipped into the restroom, the luminescence burning his eyes, washing away dirt and grime that scattered across his body, sweat that clung to his skin as though in longing. He emerged feeling as though he were a new man, refreshed. Miguel was ready to confront you, to communicate the words that had sat upon the tip of his tongue all day.

‘I’m sorry.’

Miguel was sorry, unapologetically remorseful that he’d made you feel the way you felt, the way he seemed to push your needs aside for the greater good. But it could all be damned. Miguel would move the heavens and the earth to make you happy.

The very heavens that gifted your eyes the stars so that he could gaze into them, and the very lands that breathed life beneath your skin so that his hands might have something to hold. Sometimes, he felt the universe taunted him with your very existence, there but not his, an embodiment of perfection someone as flawed as him did not deserve.

The light of the restroom illuminated your bedroom, and there upon the nightstand Miguel felt his being shatter.

A ring. Your ring. The very ring he’d slipped upon your finger in the midst of heartfelt vows, an audience of yourselves, an oath whispered between you. The very ring he’d clenched in his pocket every time you smiled, the carefully crafted band that gave him the confidence to drop down onto his knee upon seeing you drifting off to sleep with his daughter — now your daughter — in your arms.

Miguel fell to his knees once more, this time not with adoration but with regret, clutching the band between his fingers as though they might drift away, taking every reminder of you with it.

Miguel scoured your share closet, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he noticed a few of your belongings had gone missing — shoes, shirts, accessories — things he’d bought you and items you’d arrived with seeming to scatter in their frequency. Hangers devoid of purpose, rocking back and forth as though taunting him.

But then his mind drifted once more, thinking to your daughter, the very thing that’d kept the both of you together when life seemed to suggest otherwise.

You wouldn’t leave without her.

The very thought had bile creeping up Miguel’s throat, legs without stability as he crept down the hall. The door to Gabri’s room was ajar, lights dimmed to nothing, not a sound picked up by his enhanced senses.

It took more courage to open the door than it had to battle everything he’d faced as Spider-Man.

But when he did, your arms wrapped tightly around Gabriella, all rationality seemed to return to him.

Miguel dropped to his knees at Gabriella’s bedside, pushing back stray wisps of hair, taking in her appearance. Mismatched clothes, articles of clothing he recognized as yours, a tiara crushed into the pillow her head had fallen upon.

“Miguel?” Your voice was a groggy whisper, yawning into your hand coated with marker stains.

He didn’t know what to say, just glad to see you, to hear your voice and know you were still there. “You’re here.” His voice cracked, clearing his throat, gathering himself as he watched Gabriella stir in her slumber.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” You inquired, standing to your feet, kicking off mismatched shoes and ridding your wrists of scattered bracelets.

“I thought— I saw—“ Miguel held out your wedding band, the jewel glimmering in the moonlight. Slowly, without making a sound, you dropped to your knees beside Miguel, plucking the ring from between his fingertips and returning it to where it rightfully belonged.

“I took it off while I was washing dishes and had Gabriella put it away for me. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”

Miguel wiped tears from his eyes, your hand resting against his cheek. “And… Your clothes?”

This left you laughing, trailing your fingertips against his skin, doing your best to ignore the droplets of liquid that slipped from his eyes. “We had a little fashion show. I brought some of our clothes to use.”

Miguel furrowed his brows “Our?”

“Miguel O’Hara, I’ll be damned if our daughter gets marker stains on just my clothes. If I go down, you’re going down with me.”

Then his lips quirked into a smile. “Our.” Repeating the word, loving the way it fell from your lips, a reminder of your union.

“Speaking of which,” You held up one of Miguel’s collared work shirts, multicolored lipstick stains pressed into the collar. “Gabri said she saw some trend for this on YouTube — it’s cute, but didn’t we put parental controls on the TV?”

His eyes widened, mouth agape. “She must’ve seen the password. I’ll change it in the morning, Amor.”

You hummed, satisfied. Miguel inquiring which color was which, though in the moonlight it was obvious. Miguel could recognize your features blindfolded.

“Gabri insisted mine were red, and she chose a sparkly purple you bought her.”

Miguel looked away, knowing he was gonna hear it. “She liked it, you can’t blame me.”

“I’m blaming you for not getting me one! It smells like grapes, Miguel. Grapes!”

Miguel pulled you into his lap, chin resting upon the top of your head, sighing a content sigh. He could stay right here for eternity, his arms around you as you lulled to sleep in his chest. “Te quiero con todo mi corazón.”

You peppered kisses along his neck, whispering words of adoration, of longing. You missed this, missed him. “I’m so sorry for what I said, Miguel. It wasn’t right.”

Miguel shook his head. “I understand where you came from. I should be here more, I want to be here more.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, tilting your chin to place one on your lips.

“You guys need to learn how to whisper,” Gabriella called out into the darkness. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

[librababe99]

ive had this idea stuck in my head for weeks. friends to lovers w Wade. I love your writing! would love to see you do something with this :DDD

Nikki, friends to lovers is one of my favorite tropes! The fact you've are my first request for Wade has me sooo stoked too😊

I hope you enjoy this!!

Title: More Than Just Friends

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Wade Wilson, Female Reader, Set during the 2016 Deadpool Movie Summary: Wade is used to hiding his pain behind sarcasm, but after a brutal night of mercenary work, the one person who always patches him up--His best friend--makes him confront feelings he can no longer bury. WC: 1.0K

It was late, but that was typical for Wade. The nights when he didn’t come home covered in blood, bruises, or worse, were rare. His apartment was as much a sanctuary as it was a warzone. Every time he came back, it was always with a new wound, and every time, you were there. Not that you minded.

You sighed as you climbed the stairs to Wade’s dingy apartment, the bag of medical supplies in your hand. You’d been getting calls from Wade for a while now, ever since he’d been discharged from the Canadian Special Forces and started taking on freelance mercenary jobs. The two of you had been close before—best friends, even—but this work had brought him back into your life in a way you didn’t expect.

It started as a few nights of patching him up, laughing at his stupid jokes while you taped him back together, but it had become routine. A strange routine, but a routine nonetheless. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone a week without seeing him, usually in some state of disrepair.

You knocked on his door, hearing a grunt from inside that signaled Wade’s familiar, albeit exhausted, voice.

“Door’s open,” he called, his voice rough, and you entered.

He was slouched on his old couch, blood smeared across his shirt, which was barely hanging on by a few threads. The sight of him in this state wasn’t new, but something about the way he wasn’t immediately making a joke unsettled you. His usual bravado, the sarcastic remarks, the teasing grin—none of it was there. Instead, he looked… worn down.

“Wade?” you called softly, setting your bag down on the coffee table. “What the hell happened to you this time?”

“Just another Tuesday,” he muttered, trying to crack a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You knelt in front of him, already assessing the damage. His knuckles were split open, bruises darkening around his ribs, and a cut on his cheek was still bleeding. You bit your lip, shaking your head as you grabbed a cloth and some antiseptic. He watched you in silence, his gaze following your every movement.

“This doesn’t look like a ‘just another Tuesday,’ Wade. You look like someone ran you over with a semi-truck.” You tried to keep the tone light, but his silence was unnerving.

He winced as you pressed the cloth to the cut on his cheek, and for a moment, you expected a snarky comeback. Something about how he’d gladly take a semi-truck if it meant seeing you in scrubs. But nothing came. He just closed his eyes, leaning into your touch slightly.

“Wade?” you said softly, pausing. “You okay?”

His eyes opened slowly, meeting yours. There was something there, something raw that you hadn’t seen before. It made your heart skip.

“I’m fine, just… rough night,” he finally said, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

You continued tending to his wounds, the silence between you growing heavier. Normally, Wade would have filled it with crude jokes or exaggerated stories of his fight, but tonight, it felt different. It was like the weight of his life—the mercenary work, the violence, the loneliness—was catching up to him, and for once, he wasn’t hiding it.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” you asked quietly, wrapping a bandage around his hand. You’d wanted to ask him this for a long time, but it never seemed like the right moment. Now, with him this vulnerable, it slipped out before you could stop it.

Wade blinked, his gaze shifting away from yours. “Someone’s gotta do the dirty work, right? Might as well be me.”

“But you don’t have to,” you insisted, your hands stilling on his. “You’re not alone in this, Wade. You don’t have to keep putting yourself through this hell.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just looked at you, his expression softer than you’d ever seen. His usual mask of sarcasm and humor had fallen, leaving the man underneath—the one who felt too much but never showed it.

“I’m good at it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And it’s all I’ve got.”

You frowned, shaking your head. “That’s not true. You have people who care about you. You have me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than anything you’d said before. Wade’s eyes widened slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. You felt the tension rise, the room suddenly feeling much smaller.

“Do I?” he asked, and there was something vulnerable in the way he said it, like he genuinely didn’t believe it.

“Of course, you do, Wade,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “I’ve been here, haven’t I? Every time you get hurt, every time you need someone. I’m always here.”

Wade swallowed hard, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. Instead, he looked at you with something closer to fear—fear of what he might say next, of what it might mean.

“I’ve always joked around, you know,” he began, his voice shaky. “Flirting, teasing… but… you know I care about you, right?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You weren’t sure how to respond. Wade was always so flippant with his feelings, always hiding behind his humor. But now? Now he was serious.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling your heart pound in your chest. “But do you know?”

He looked at you, and for once, there was no joking, no sarcasm—just Wade, raw and real. “I’ve been scared, I guess. Scared that if I said something real, I’d screw it up. I’m good at screwing things up.”

Before you could respond, Wade did something you never expected—he leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t his usual playful, teasing kiss. It was soft, tentative, almost as if he was afraid you’d pull away.

But you didn’t. You kissed him back, your hands resting on his chest as you leaned into him. The kiss deepened, and all the tension, all the unspoken words, melted away.

When you finally pulled back, Wade rested his forehead against yours, his breath ragged. “That wasn’t a joke,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. “I meant that.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling as you looked into his eyes. “I know, Wade. I meant it, too.”

For once, there were no jokes, no walls. Just the two of you—more than just friends.