#can you even call it an x reader

[xqnqx]

Breaking Glass

Description: She wasn't given a choice. Instead, it was made for her.

A/N: This is a Lawrence Gordon (kind of) imagine/fanfiction I wrote for my friend! @urfavsuh @thinkingoflawrence

And this being my first post is kind of random and new to me, but enjoy it as much as you can!

TW: Mentions of blood, trauma.

Word Count: 4.619

The old TV flashed with a static sound. A bright light flashed, followed by waves of gray lines that rushed across the screen before merging into a complete image. However, Nia still seemed to be unconscious, as she didn't catch the odd-looking puppet appearing on the flickering screen. For most trap survivors, this was a very obvious start to what soon became their nightmares—the famous Jigsaw puppet. It was an odd way of introducing someone to a torturous device from which you would most likely not get out alive, but if you did, it would be the trauma that kept the torture going. Either way, you were about to experience the most terrifying pain of your life. And Nia didn't know. Nia didn't know what it was all about. Besides not knowing where she was and how she got there, Nia had no idea who this 'Jigsaw-Killer-Guy' was. Because for the last few months, Nia had been busy trying to escape the shithole she was forced to call 'home'. She was looking for quick, easy jobs left and right that would give her just enough money to pass the month. She never had the chance to take a break. She never had the chance to watch TV. Whenever she heard a mention of Jigsaw's name leaving customer's mouths or in the news that played in the background of the few cafés she worked at, it was brushed off. Why would she care? Nia had only herself to care about.

Perhaps that was the mistake.

"Hello, Nia. You don't know me, but I know you."

A dark voice, difficult to follow from the old speaker, rang out each time the odd-looking puppet's jaw dropped. This was when Nia finally jerked her head towards the TV, still having a hard time keeping her head up. Her eyelids kept dropping, but her ears were open to listen as the voice continued, "You may now feel confused or frightened." There's a pause. "Angered." Nia began to make muffled noises, confused at that. She tasted metal, rust, and something pressed on her tongue that she couldn't push out of her mouth. Her head dropped again, and her eyes widened as she noticed the straps around her wrists and, when she looked further down, around her ankles too. Nia made another muffled whimper. Her heart started to race. She tried to struggle herself out of the tight restraints, but to no avail. No matter what she did or how she tried, she couldn't get off of that metal chair.

Before Nia tried to struggle again, she heard the voice explain, "But you should know not to lose. Here, I'll show you what happens if you do."

The white puppet disappeared in delay before there was something presented and instructed to her; she couldn't remember. The images and her memories were now only blurred into a few sections of that trauma. And Nia remembered the sudden explosive sound coming out of the television. She remembered the muffled scream she let out, which would have sounded much louder if the device around her head hadn't been hooked into her upper and lower jaws. "Permanently ripped open," the voice said, and Nia cried out. There was nothing to remember anymore, only parts.

...

"Oh, I know how it feels to let out that rage you're building up inside. Maybe this time not onto another person, but yourself," he said so simply, so understanding.

...

"Listen, Nia. There's only one key to open the device."

...

A bright light sprung out before her eyes from the ceiling. This light, resembling that of a spotlight, seemed to present a glass box not far from her feet. The glass walls of the box were too dirty to reveal any of the contents. Even from where she was sitting, she couldn't see anything. "Look in front of you. There's a glass box you're going to have to break in order to retrieve what's at fault for your sensitive heart."

...

Nia put the small invitation card back into her pocket after she took a look at the name again. "Bobby Dagen, survivor of the great Jigsaw killer," as the writing said. The name belonged to the man standing next to the group circle of other Jigsaw survivors. He's considered an author, or whatever—just some ordinary-looking guy with a pretty wife who's not over his traumatic experience yet. This 'Bobby', who was talking to his PR team at the time, organized this whole group meeting. But of course, with lots of cameras—more than enough so that the whole world was able to see what a truly amazing person he was, empathizing with survivors like him. Though Nia couldn't bother to remember his name again. She couldn't bother to join the group of people either. She preferred to sit somewhere near the exit, next to this one doctor, she couldn't remember the name of either. And Nia told herself that she was not like them. Not like those bunch of traumatized people who couldn't stop clinging to what made them eventually form this meeting. She saw tears rolling down faces and quivering lips that formed words she couldn't hear from where she was sitting. But it's not that talking about your experiences is necessarily a bad thing, Nia thought to herself. But in front of cameras? In front of everyone? Alternatively, if her mother hadn't convinced her that this would be the first step towards 'self-healing', and if she hadn't threatened to force therapists on her if she didn't agree, Nia would've still be rotting in her apartment.

Nia glanced over at the man next to her, who seemed to wear the same uninterested expression on his face as her. She couldn't help but slightly smile at that. The thought of having some sort of company with this was reassuring. Still, Nia had to sigh once more, looking impatiently around the room. She was waiting for the camera crew to finally send signals. And she carefully placed her hands on her shaking leg when she was about to switch her gaze to the author again. That's when she heard the chair next to her squeaking and the doctor in it asking her, "Does it still hurt?" He hesitantly pointed at her bandaged arms as Nia replied with a raised eyebrow. Without even realizing it, her arms shifted a little in his direction. "May I take a closer look?" the man asked, making sure. After a moment, she nodded.

His hands barely touched her arms. Instead, he gently turned her palms back and forth and lightly tapped a few spots, which she had no suspicion of. Nia attempted to read his face, and she hesitated at first. There was no way Nia would've told him the actual truth—that she didn't know what actually happened. What a stupid thing to believe, too, Nia thought. So Nia tried to come up with words to explain what had happened while he examined her arms. However, for some reason, she was unable to find those right words—or any words, for that matter. Only Uhh's and Yeah, well's formed her sentences before she started them all over again. The doctor offered her a small smile after he looked back up at her and assured her that there was nothing she should be concerned about. But his eyes lingered a little too long on her cheeks, causing Nia to switch her gaze. 

Unsure why she did, Nia tilted her head slightly, asking the doctor almost in a whisper, "Do you believe Bobby?" Nia didn't know why she asked him that. She guessed that it might have been an attempt at starting up a conversation, which was already difficult and awkward enough for her in this situation. She saw a change in his expression that she couldn't quite pick up on. Nevertheless, there was no time for that when she heard Bobby's loud shout, "Welcome!" interrupting her from across the room. He opened the introduction with the same speech that is printed on the back cover of the book he published. It was the same choice of words that had the fancy-dressed PR team grinning with excitement behind the cameras. Nia, on the other hand, took his speech as an insult. The man next to her seemed to agree, as she huffed at Bobby's words. Bobby Dagen did not continue to speak for long before he sat back down in his chair and, with a bow, invited the survivors to share their stories as well. Or, as he put it, 'finding trust in him'.

But at first, there was silence. At first, the people's eyes in the group wandered around, unsure of where to begin. Some glances paused at the cameras until Bobby held up his palms to give in. "All right," he admitted, opening his eyes again. With one short exhale, he gestured to the random survivor he selected with an extended palm. "You made a decision, right?" he asked. The woman he was aiming this question at raised her head to reveal the dejected expression on her face. "A decision that saved your life," Bobby added. "How did that make you feel?" Her arms were folded tightly together, and she faltered before she answered with one single word, "Free." After a moment of silent crying, she continued, saying, "He was abusive. I tried to stop it before, but it wasn't until that moment that I really did something. It was him or me, and I chose to live. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. He gave me a choice." The woman seemed a little proud in her glassy eyes as Bobby gave her an understanding nod. But Nia simply shook her head, looking away before commenting, "Bullshit."

Nia's comment caught the attention of all the many eyes in the circle at once. Between the heads, she noticed Bobby staring at her, and as if by instinct, the cameras followed his gaze as they automatically shifted to her as well. As she went on, Nia made an effort to ignore the unexpected attention, even from the man beside her. "You chose to live? Is that what you're all talking about—having a choice?" The question was directed at every single survivor in the group. With that, she stretched out her arms in front of her to present the thick bandages wrapped around her skin. "Look at my arms!" she shouted. "I had to break a glass box, using my bare hands, for a key that didn't even fit the fucking lock. I had no damn choice. I was supposed to die."

...

"Live or die; make your choice."

This sentence still echoed inside Nia's head. Like a switch being flicked, it made her instantly think back to what had happened. How her knees collided with the freezing, stony ground and how her face was just inches from the glass box as she slowly lifted her head. She remembered her shaking hands groping the surface of the box, whispering little hopes for something as simple as a button that would open it. Hopefully, some answer would've saved her from this hell. But that hadn't been the case; she was forced to realize that as she began to pound her fists on the hard glass. She could barely hold herself upright, but the pain in her bones and the pain in her arms urged her to keep going. And with every swing and every hit, she heard the ticking of the timer at the back of her head getting louder. Her muffled screams grew louder until Nia was finally able to stick her arm through the broken, bloody opening with the sound of her skin ripping, which nearly made her vomit. The key tied to the thread sank deeper into the dirty glass shards, causing Nia to widen her eyes in terror. Like a crazed animal, she tried to dig and shovel the key out of the broken glass, and it took a while before she finally pulled it out. Without taking a single glance at the key, she quickly pressed it against the small lock at the back of her head.

But it didn't fit.

Nia still remembered the way her heart was pounding against her chest as she tried again and again and again, but the key just wouldn't fit into the lock. Nia yanked the key back into her sights again, struggling to calm her frantic gaze.

On the key were words engraved, "no second choices."

...

Nia carefully blinked back up at the crowd of people still staring at her. Despite her mouth being open, she didn't say a word. Instead, she pressed her lips together before spitting out a nasty, "That's bullshit. Jigsaw is bullshit." If only Nia could've caught the face the doctor made. Bobby, on the other hand, twitched his eyebrow as he clasped his hands together. "Well, you still decided to agree to the invitation, seeing you here. You survived," he said, speaking as if he were doing this as a profession.

Yet he didn't know anything. Her eyebrows shot up in fury, but Nia bit her tongue, preferring to lean back in her chair and find a way to somehow calm the anger that was boiling inside her. "There's no reason to be glad about surviving if you're wanted dead," Nia said. Bobby seemed a bit taken aback by her words. He did anything but answer, going through many facial expressions. And his last irritated look faded into relief when the cameras switched in his direction again. With that, his personality changed again in the blink of an eye. "But that's exactly what defines each one of us. We were forced to endure a traumatic experience," he concluded. "And I don't necessarily think that there can't be any positive outcome to that."

"Like what?" a woman in the circle asked. Bobby smiled, getting up from his chair again to deliver yet another speech.

"Fucking prick," Nia whispered in a snarl.

"Liar too," she kept going, feeling something tickling down her cheek. "Shit-" Red drops fell down her chin to sink into her white bandages. It was after another drop fell that Nia realized that the blood was coming from her cheeks. She carefully placed her fingers to touch the wounds that had undoubtedly reopened. Beside her, she could hear the doctor say something, but she didn't listen to what he exactly said. Instead, she continued to quickly rub her cheeks with her bandaged hands, but this only resulted in the blood smearing. "Are you alright, miss?" Nia felt herself becoming more nervous, and she leaned down to her bag before explaining, in short, "Wounds opened." Without giving him time to react, Nia rose from her seat to rush out of the room in hopes of finding the nearest bathroom. While she did, she was rummaging through her bag, seeking out any plasters, bandages, or even tissues that she knew she had thrown in earlier. For some reason, though, Nia found nothing, repeating the process over and over again. Stumbling, she eventually found the ladies' bathroom and pushed down the door handle with her elbow. "Where did I..." She pushed the door open with a swing of her hips.

Nia threw the bag into the sink and picked it up again from the bottom, shaking it like crazy. While she listened to the contents falling against the white ceramic, she kept asking herself, "Where?! Where?!" And as she searched through the dumped items like a madwoman, thankful that there appeared to be no one in those bathroom stalls, her eyes dared a few glances into the mirror. Her forehead creased. Nia carefully touched her right cheek with her tied fingers, nearing her reflection. The cuts weren't particularly huge, but they still hurt like hell, mostly on the right side. Nia turned on the faucet after taking far too many paper towels from the dispenser once the drips started hitting the sink. "Jesus," she murmured as she dabbed layers of paper towels on the corner of her lips.

"Jesus!" she yelled out this time as she heard a knock on the bathroom door behind her before it opened. With her eyebrows pressed together, she exhaled in relief when she recognized the person in the mirror's reflection. "It's you."

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't help but make sure," the doctor from before paused from where he was standing, noticing her startled reaction. His hand was still placed on the door as she asked him, "Make sure? Well, why? I..." Nia turned to the mirror once again, raising her hands from the sink's edge and bringing them to her lips. She started wiping again. "I don't think there's much you need to make sure of," she snorted under the paper. The man offered a small, hesitant smile before moving to the red first aid box, which was hanging on the wall next to him. Nia heard the little door of the box creak, sighing again. "I was about to head home anyway." And as the words left her mouth, Nia felt a hand on her cheek, followed by the feeling of a damp cloth being rubbed against her skin. She felt fingers carefully gripping her chin, and their faces being far too close to each other for strangers. He's a doctor, Nia assured herself, trying to avoid any attempt at making eye contact. Although she was a little embarrassed by the warmth in her cheeks, she let him continue. "There's really no need. It's just a bleeding, it'll close up again," Nia mumbled while he adhered plasters to her skin. His fingers left her face, and she looked back in the mirror. "I understand your feelings towards Jigsaw," Nia heard him say, which caused her to turn to face him again. The doctor didn't look at her; instead, he put her stuff back in her bag and washed the water over the basin to remove the blood drips. He discarded the rags in the trash can. "Having to saw off my own foot was more than just a challenge. He put me through hell." Nia nodded slowly. Now that he mentioned it, her eyes wandered to look at the cane the man was carrying close to him. He continued speaking, "But then again, I survived because he wanted me to."

"It definitely isn't the same with you."

Their gazes met in the mirror.

"What is it that you want to tell me, doctor?"

He smiled at the nickname she gave him before leaning against the sink, shifting his gaze from her reflection to her actual face. "Jigsaw wants people to cherish life again, so he gives his victims a second choice to achieve that. Seeing that you did not get a second choice but more of a death wish makes it hard to believe that it was actually Jigsaw."

Nia felt her heart sink at that very moment.

His little theorizing didn't line up with what she had convinced herself to believe. Or was it what she was convinced to believe? Nia didn't know it herself, and the thought made her shake her head. All she knew was what her wounds and the remaining memories allowed to reveal to her. But never did she try to theorize. "So, you're saying that Jigsaw has nothing to do with..." Her voice fell silent as she was unable to continue her sentence. Nia's eyes shut for a moment, trying to compose herself. The man hesitated until speaking again, "Well, not that he particularly has nothing to do with it, but who knows? Maybe Jigsaw was only an inspiration."

The disbelief in her expression was evident to him. And this caused him to close his mouth again. Nia remained silent, still in thought, and she stared around. She placed her hand on her bag, ready to grab it and storm out of the bathroom. But she didn't dare take a step towards the exit. Instead, she turned back to the man, facing him without actually looking at him. "Would you..."

"...bring me home?"

"Sure," he responded after a nod.

...

...

Nia muttered another thank you before opening her small mailbox to take out the stuffed stacks of letters. It took her a stronger push to close the mailbox door, keeping the letters in her arms. The lights flickered as Nia took her first step on the stairs, which caused her to blink up at the ceiling. Her gaze switched when she heard the man who had walked her home call her name. "Yeah?" Despite the distance between them, her soft voice still reached his ears. When he opened his mouth again, he was still standing by the exit, not having taken another step in her direction. "Don't worry so much, alright?" he assured her.

"Even though you may not believe it, it will get better. You will get better." Nia shrugged, snorting, "Sure." Yet she didn't take another step. "Thanks again for accompanying me home. I..." However, she quickly silenced herself as she remembered what the man had just told her. So she instead brought a smile to her lips, waving a small goodbye before walking up the rest of the steps. That's when she heard the exit door close. And when she got to her front door, she went through the various papers. Nothing particularly caught her eye. Nothing except this little card that didn't appear to be wrapped in any kind of envelope. As if it had just been thrown in. As Nia leaned in to read the little words inscribed on the card, her eyebrows wrinkled before she flipped it over a few more times again.

"Are there choices?"

...

"What do they mean by 'choices', Lawrence? This is getting absurd." Nia folded her arms back together after shoving the card towards his plate. She received a puzzled glance from the man seated across from her before he picked up the paper. He seemed to be merely thinking for a while. Meanwhile, her eyes scanned the restaurant they were at, fiddeling with her necklace. She made nervous attempts to avoid looking suspicious. His mouth began to form words when his gaze slowly returned to her. His expression seemed to remain the same. "This..." He waved the card a little. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "From my mailbox. The day you brought me home, remember?" she replied. "I don't know when this got there. No envelope, nothing. They know where I live." Nia leaned forward to keep their conversation as private as possible. "Lawrence," she whispered his name. "I'm sca..." Her voice broke, only leaving a desperate expression on her face. Lawrence, the man she was talking to, changed his expression. "You're safe," he assured her right away as he placed his hand on hers. Nia pursed her lips, not knowing what to believe. "This won't happen again. I promise." Nia's eyes wandered around the room again before she whispered to him once more, "How can you be so sure?" She continued, "They know where I live. I don't even know how I got kidnapped in the first place and now... Fuck, if it'll happen again, I-"

"-Nia." There was a pause in which Lawrence simply looked into her brown eyes. "I promise. I'll be there." The way Lawrence spoke those words, no matter how ridiculous it may seem, they made Nia feel some sort of surety. It made her nod and exhale this pressure she was feeling deep inside. "Alright. Okay." Her gaze turned away from him as she went on, "I just... I don't know what they would mean by that." Nia rested a palm on her forehead and used the table as support for her elbow. "What choices do I have? I mean, they, whoever it was, wanted me dead." Lawrence shook his head. "There weren't any choices given," he muttered almost to himself. "Exactly!" Nia's voice got a little louder than she intended to. She huffed, "And I still survived. Fuck knows why."

"I feel like I'm keeping secrets from myself." She picked up her fork, only to set it back down. Her appetite was long gone. And it didn't help staring at her food, falling into thought again. It was unclear to her why they had decided to have this conversation in a fine restaurant like this. Neither did she know why she picked out her favourite dress for this. "Hey, don't try to put so much pressure on yourself now. You've already endured enough." Lawrence's stern look somehow caused Nia to smirk. She somehow agreed.

"You know, either way, it's nice to finally talk to someone." The smirk stayed on her lips as she added, "It's been some time." He, on the other hand, looked a little surprised at first, but then quickly felt relief at the quick change in atmosphere. He smirked as well.

"Yes, I can't help but agree."

Quietly giggling, Nia heard him join in.

"I just hope you're right about me being safe."

...

In the end, Nia's memories summarized the entirety of her relationship with Lawrence. They remembered him as someone special. Someone who appeared ordinary to others but not to her. Because to her, he was everything for her. There were so many moments with him—so many that she longed to relive them again. There were so many words he said with such kindness that Nia initially believed she didn't deserve. And maybe it was like that. Whatever the case, Nia's memories of him always ended with their final conversation.

...

"No, you're right. I need to find some kind of new beginning in my life." Lawrence glanced up from his cup of coffee without lifting his head. He had his eyebrow raised as Nia kept speaking, "Like breaking glass. Trying to let go of the past, y'know?" Nia laughed at herself for her poor choice of metaphor. "Nevermind." The flush warming up her cheeks was obvious to notice. But Lawrence knew what she was trying to imply, nodding before asking, "A new beginning, you say?" with enough comprehension in his voice. "And what would you consider your start to be like?" Nia didn't expect him to ask a question like that; he could tell by her face. "Well, you see..." She exhaled. "I have no idea." And Nia giggled again, seeming unsure whether to tell him or not. "Anything to pull myself out of this mess I feel like I'm living in. No yoga or anything silly like that," she tried, but she couldn't think of anything. Instead, she continued to stir her tea, waiting for some genius idea to finally form. So she spoke again, "Maybe I'll finally decide on a new job? I've been to a few different places now. I got enough experience, I guess."

"What do you say?" Lawrence stopped sipping, listening carefully.

"Maybe even switching states, too? Saying my final goodbyes to this shithole New Jersey is? I heard San Francisco is nice." Nia kept on wondering, murmuring to herself, "Expensive but nice..." The way she talked about her dreams made it seem as if that's all they were —simple dreams. It sounded meaningless, no more than a joke for her to even consider, based on the way Lawrence could hear it in her voice. He let out a soft sigh. "Oh, Nia, you're doing it again." She seemed a little surprised by his words. "What?" Lawrence put his coffee back on the table. "This." His hand gestured to her face. "You talk as if you don't trust yourself."

"What do you mean, I..."

"Nia, I know you'll do it," he said. Nia shut her mouth. "You're doing good. Better even. But if you keep on wondering and never dare to take the first step, those dreams will eat you up. Nia, it's okay."

"I know you'll do it."

She didn't know what else to do but thank him. And he told her, "Not for this," with a smile so warm.

She never would have imagined kissing it like she did.

[just-null]

im so mad at u omg

how dare u make my noritoshi obsession 10 times worse

Noritoshi spews his true feelings when you're upset with him. Similar to a very eager puppy trying to regain your favor by any means...... but realizes what he says and blames you for turning him into a fool. Another downside for him is that he won't take his words back in fear of you getting the wrong idea.

you're just a bully that he hopes will forget about the embarrassing words he blurted out.

hes simultaneously reeling and embarrassed. is this what happens when you make your love upset? does that imply he's your love?!

[agnesafterhours]

lavender haze | lee know. smut.

Your boyfriend is not prone to communicating his feelings through words, but luckily for him, you always know exactly what he needs. (1.9k words)

CONTENT: smut, boyfriend!lino, creampie, unprotected sex and cum eating. minors and empty blogs do not interact.

© all rights reserved. i do not allow reposting and/or translations of my work.

Contrary to popular belief, Minho sulks often. You do understand why people would believe that isn’t the case—your boyfriend’s dry jokes followed by a sarcastic smile being one of the reasons why you were drawn to him in the first place. When you first met him a couple years back, when he was still doing busking events with his dance crew alongside a common friend of yours, you’d watch in doe-eyed adoration as he’d flash his bunny teeth in a playful grin to his crewmates each time they got one move slightly wrong. What pissed them off the most is they could never get back at Minho—he never forgot any moves, never missed a beat. His justifiable confidence made him oh so irritating—you were attracted like moth to a flame to his character, his knife-sharp features matching his equally piercing sense of humour were fuel to the fire. 

But the thing about your boyfriend's sulking is that it is often unjustifiable. Of course he doesn't need a reason to want to be pampered by you, but it'd be nice if Minho admitted he also likes to be taken care of at least once in a while.  

“What did I do to deserve this torture?” The ever so intimidating choreographer mumbles from his spot on your bed, your pastel pink pillowcases being a little counterproductive to the assertive tone he's been trying to use on you. 

Minho can’t suppress the smirk forming on his lips at your scoff, “Torture? I'm just asking you to wait! These bedsheets got here like, two weeks ago!” You're on your feet, struggling to fold one of the new huge linens to store in your closet. “If they stay in these bags any longer they're gonna start smelling weird.” 

“You know that's not how it works, right?” 

“I don't care. You know you should be helping me, right?” You look back, a smirk of your own automatically taking place when your eyes find his. 

Despite the lopsided smile that seems to be permanently plastered on his face, Minho grunts as he drags his body out of the comforter and towards you, “You know you should wash these before putting them away, right?”  

And as soon as your eyebrows raise and he sees the very familiar smile on your lips as you push the sheet into his arms, your boyfriend realizes he fell right into your trap, “Have it your way, then!” 

The man watches as you jump in bed, getting comfortable on the spot he previously was—eyes filled with the similar overwhelming fondness they usually hold when Minho looks at you. “You’re annoying.” He takes off the rest of the sheeting from it’s flimsy plastic bags, making his way to the laundry room. “Don’t fall asleep!” He exclaims from the hallway. 

“I’m not making any promises!” 

“Don’t sleep! I wanna spend time with you!” Unfortunately, no amount of stubbornness can take away Minho's super power of having you giggling into your pillow. He wants to spend time with you. He's the love of your life and he wants to spend time with you.  

Those are the feelings you can't quite understand. You’ve been with Minho for so long—at least long enough you've been through the “honeymoon stage” everyone seems to fear the ending of. For you, it feels like this stage never seems to be over. You pray it never ends.  

So here you are, kicking your feet because your long term boyfriend said he wants to spend time with you. At least you know he's as obsessive as you are, if not slightly more. 

Minho's way of showering you with love was overwhelming. He isn't the type to communicate his feelings through words, instead, he'd do things like casually tell you about getting into a rather serious argument with his manager, trying to get the day off so he’d spend your birthday with you. Of course he would be busy, cooking your favourite meal as he casually narrates the dramatics him and his group went through trying to get his needs respected. He doesn't look you in the eye when he says he got emotional, the only reason why his manager gave in being Minho “never behaved like this before”. This is his way of saying you're his utmost priority, can't you tell? The redness of his ears and fidgety eyes are a big hint of the nervousness Minho prayed you wouldn't pick up on. Unfortunately for him, you know him like the back of your hand.  

You know that a quick glance your way means someone said something he found amusing in a way. If his hand fell to your lower back in social gatherings, it means Minho is a bit nervous and needs some grounding. If he's too silent, you know to sit beside him and wait until it all comes pouring out. With you, it always does. If he's vocalizing how tired he is, you know he'd enjoy talking for hours on end about anything that comes to his mind. Minho always needs you, he just has very specific patterns to show you exactly what he's currently craving from you. Fortunately for him, he's your favourite subject matter. He's the only thing you ever want to pay attention to—the sole owner of your entire focus.  

That's why you know exactly what he needs when he flops back on the bed, and after a few moments of silence, blurts out “I miss you. I missed you a lot this week." 

You crawl out of your nest and straddle your boyfriend's lap, dragging your comforter along and covering you both with it.  

You're both silent as you hold his cheeks, taking your time as you kiss them, then his forehead, and the mole on his nose—at least a couple times each. Minho's hand slides down your lower back when your lips find his, tongue slowly tasting his as you feel his heart beating tranquilly against the palm of your hand sliding up and down his chest. You feel his right hand gently cupping the back of your neck, holding you close against him as the other sneaked under your shirt, slowly caressing your bare back.  

Minho doesn't try to take control of the kiss like he usually does—neither do you. Your bodies seem to move in harmony, the glacial movements of his tongue making you sigh against his mouth every now and again, promptly resulting in a smirk of his. You loved kissing his smile. 

“Missed you so much, baby.” He repeated softly against your lips. Minho now had both hands under your shirt, his touch leaving goosebumps as he caressed up and down your sides.  

“Missed you too. Always miss you so much, Min.” Your breathing is a bit compromised now, hands moving on their own as you remove your own shirt.  

Minho quickly follows, his palms back on your hips as soon as his shirt is tossed to the side. “I know you do, pretty. I know.” 

His hands lay on your ass, groping as he whispers against your lips. “Spent the entire week thinking about fucking you. Gonna lay on your side for me, pretty? Hm? Gonna do it just how I like it?” 

Too much, too much, too much. You don't think you're really moaning anymore, but you're sure your mouth's been hanging open for a while. Minho’s hips are slow as he hits the deepest parts of you, holding your squirming body for a few seconds each time he bottoms out. The sweet, lazy drag of his cock inside you make your lust disable all of your senses. He felt heavy, thick, so deep inside you. Full. You felt so, so full.  

Somewhere in the haze you feel his palms making their way towards your chest, you process a bit of squirming as he squeezes them, massaging your breasts as he continued his torturously slow assault on your g-spot. 

Minho can feel every cell fighting against his urge to mount and pump into you as fast as he pleases, but he'd endure anything if it means he gets to hear your drawn out whines as he rocks his hips back and forth, your entire body shivering every time he pauses deep inside of you for a few moments.

He runs his hand through the goosebumps of your arms and back to your chest again. After feeling you up a bit more, your boyfriend takes your hand and drags it south as he presses on your lower stomach, making you feel him moving inside you. 

“You're feeling how good I fill you up, honey? Can you feel it?” His breathing is much more ragged now, Minho's body is visibly shuddering behind you as well. You squeeze around and him, bringing his hips to a stop. 

You look back, staring at his open mouth as you inhale each other's heavy breaths. As if snapped out of a trance, Minho kisses you roughly. He swallows each of your moans when his hips start swaying back and forth again, still as slow and rough as he was.  

His hand leaves yours as he reaches for your chin, spit dribbling down your lips. 

“So fucked out you're drooling for me. God, you're so good, baby. You take it so good.” 

“Holy shit, Minho! So close, so close, so close-” Your voice is no longer a whisper as it's pitch gets higher, your orgasm dangling in front of you in a fever dream. You feel him everywhere and it's almost too much, but certainly not enough. You're so overstimulated you don't know what to focus on to reach your high—both your senses and judgment so clouded you can't muster the brainpower to figure out what you need. 

Luckily for you, Minho knows you like the back of his hand. “I love you. Love you so much.” 

You can't tell how long it lasts, you're barely able to process Minho coming inside you. You feel the ghost of his hands holding your hips still as he whimpers in your ear—the sound alone making you shiver all over again. Your body shakes in his hold, limbs giving out after a prolonged orgasm you're not used to experiencing.  

“Love you too… Love you so much…” The words mindlessly escape your lips as your head slowly sways, fingers twirling the ends of your splayed out hair. 

Your eyes are closed as he lays you on your back, adjusting the pillow under your head as he chuckles. “Love you too, pretty. Hang in there just a second.” 

You feel his hands caressing your body as he handles you, a sixth sense making you chuckle when you realize he spread your legs but didn't start cleaning you up. 

His hands run down your thighs, you can hear the smirk on his voice. “What's up?” 

“Stop staring.” You say, humming with your eyes still closed. 

“Don't wanna.” You feel his fingers sliding through your core. “Mouth wide open for me, baby. Come on.” 

You sigh when you get a taste of his coated fingers, lips wrapping around as your tongue licks in between them. You open your eyes to find him hovering above you, eyes fix in your mouth. 

The look you give Minho makes him dizzy—the way you stare up at him with your big doe eyes in such adoration while sucking cum off his fingers almost made his heart burst. He can feel how each beat of it belongs to you, his heartbeat chained to a rhythm that followed your own.  

Chest to chest, Minho watches as your eyes sparkle, your hand softly stroking the back of his head. A smile forms on your lips when you pop his fingers out of your mouth as you breathily mutter against them. “You know I'm gonna marry you someday, right?” 

[beepboopkek]

— Strip Starchess with Jing Yuan (Female Reader)

Including: Jing Yuan cw: afab!reader, pwp but barely, slight mention of reader having a size kink, unprotected p in v, first time writing a proper fic, first time writing smut (please send help), reader is a little bashful, overall its kind of a self-projection I guess. Jing Yuan is a little bastard (affectionate), stripping (who would've guessed), grammatical errors(I tried), Jing Yuan calls you pet names (dear, love), no use of y/n, light bondage ( reader gets their hands tied with a t-shirt nothing too bad), safe sane and consensual w/c: 3941 (might be a little off since I made a few edits in this post) a/n: I am so sorry for this I am going to die of cringe later but I needed this out of my brain so I made my best attempt at writing. There is a lot of stuff that is bad but I do not have the energy or patience to do it so, you have been warned, this is a first-time smut from an inexperienced writer whose first language isn't english :3 hope someone out there likes this

You were bored.

Extremely bored.

Jing Yuan had promised you he’d come home on time so that the two of you could enjoy dinner together. You had something fun planned for the evening for the two of you. Something you were excited to try out.

One problem though, there were still no signs of your boyfriend’s arrival.

You sent him a few messages asking him where he was but to no avail, you knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to respond anyway.

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you turned around and were met with an apologetic soft smile on Jing Yuan’s face.

“Yu.”

“My Love.”

You huffed at him in annoyance, realising what he was trying to do. He always knew how to soften you up.

“You’re late.” You said as you watched him unstrap his boots and place them near the shoe rack before he turned to look at you.

“I apologize, I overslept in the afternoon and had to compensate as a result.” Jing Yuan gave you a pitiful look.

“Regardless, I am here now,” He walked over to where you were seated and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on your head. ��And I’d love to eat what my dear has cooked for me.”

You rolled your eyes at him a little and turned towards the table again as he took his seat opposite to you. You began eating in silence while Jing Yuan served himself some of the food you’d made.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” He spoke suddenly as you focused on eating and ignoring him.

“Be like what? I didn’t do anything.” You huffed back to him again while continuing to look at your food when you suddenly heard the sound of a chair being dragged across the floor, you looked up, only to be met with your boyfriend’s amber eyes boring into yours.

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

You grumbled something with your mouth full.

“I didn’t catch that, love.”

You gulped down your food, 

“I said, play Starchess with me”

“Do we not play Starchess on a regular basis already?”

“We do, yes, but I found a new variation of the game that I thought would be fun to try out. Only if youre up for it, though.” You made eye contact with him again as his eyebrow shot up in surprise.

He leaned in on the table and rested his head on the palm of his hand as he tilted his head lazily.

“Go on.”

Your confidence and annoyance all but vanished this exact second, you really hadn’t expected him to be this interested and knowing him , he probably already has an idea simply based off of the tone of your voice.

“...Nevermind.” You looked away, blushing as Jing Yuan continued to watch in lazed amusement.

“Is it-”

“Yes it’s Strip Starchess, okay? I thought it would be fun to play.” You blurted out as your ears turned a light shade of red.

“I was going to say Blitz Starchess.”

Your eyes widened in horror as you turned back to look at Jing Yuan who was now miserably failing at holding back his laughter as his shoulders shook silently and he pressed his lips together.

“I hate you.”

Jing Yuan laughed and you pouted.

“I didn’t do anything, though?”

“You know exactly what you're doing, Yu.”

Jing Yuan smiled apologetically once again as you pouted while avoiding eye contact with him. He sighed fondly and picked up his chopsticks again.

“Strip Starchess, hm? Let’s finish dinner and begin.”

You huffed again and turned back to your food and soon enough, Jing Yuan started some casual conversation and the whole ordeal was pushed to the back of your mind.

. . .That was until after you both finished eating and cleaning up.

Shit.

You suddenly had very important things to do in your library so you quietly started walking towards it, hoping Jing Yuan had all but forgotten about your earlier conversation. Just as you were about to open the door, a familiar voice called out from behind you,

"Dear?" 

You slowly turned around, trying not to look like you were caught committing a crime.

"...Yes?"

"Where would you like to play? I think the living room would be best since it is rather spacious. We can close the curtains but,"

Jing Yuan paused as he looked towards the box in his hands and back to you,

"I'm saying that while assuming that we will be taking off our clothes sooner or later. Am I wrong?" 

He smiled innocently. This bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

"... Fine, let's go to the living room then, I'll explain the rules to you." 

Jing Yuan hummed pleasantly as he walked behind you, setting the board down onto the hard wooden flooring as the both of you sat down facing each other. 

He opened up the box and set up the game and looked at you expectantly.

There was no backing out now, so you might as well give it your best.

"It's in the name, you strip when you lose a pawn." 

"Strip entirely? Or just an article of clothing?"

"You know exactly what I mean."

You gave an exasperated sigh as you stared at him with the grumpiest expression you could muster.

"I'm afraid I don't, love."

He gave you a cat-like smile as he patiently waited for you to explain.

"...Only a piece of clothing. The one who has the most clothes off at the end of the game is the loser,"

You made yourself comfortable, you need your initial confidence back desperately.

"We'll play 3 games and see who wins. I won't be going easy on you."

You smiled at him mischievously as he chuckled and re-adjusted his seating position before looking right into your eyes.

"Very well then, let the games begin." 

You focused your eyes on the board and played your first move, positioning the soldier pawn in front of your king 2 steps ahead.

Jing Yuan’s eyes lit up as he countered it by moving the same piece on his side. He knew exactly how you were going to play and he was going to ensure he won.

The game progressed and you eventually lost your first pawn, you sighed in annoyance at the realization as you looked up to see your boyfriend with his cat-like smile and of course, he had the most innocent look on his face.

Damnit.

You sighed reluctantly as you cursed him under your breath and removed your jacket.

“Happy?” You deadpanned at him.

“Very much so. Don’t be upset, you still have a chance to win.” He smirked lazily as he waited for you to play your turn

You were more cautious now, not letting him take any of your pawns when you realized you had a safe opening to take his pawn!

You took the chance and took his soldier with your bishop. Looking up at him in triumph.

He smiled back at you casually as he raised his hands in surrender,

“You got me there,”

You watchedn him in anticipation as your mouth watered a little, sure you’d been living together for a few months now but, nothing beat seeing Jing Yuan’s body.

He place his hand on his shoulder guard and removed it before smiling at you pleasantly again.

You blinked once.

Twice.

Scanning him to see if he removed anything else while you were day-dreaming.

Nope, nothing.

"I said one piece of clothing, your shoulder brace doesn't count as one." 

"You never specified if accessories were also counted."

You huffed at him, "You never asked!" 

"I don't recall having to ask, I gave you the chance to explain everything to me." He smiled innocently again.

He was right. 

He knew he was and continued to play his next move.

Bastard.

Suddenly, it dawned on you that he was still in his armor and work uniform, meaning it would take at least 15 individual games of Starchess to get even the first layer off of him. Your eyes widened in realization as he looked at you and stifled his laughter.

Well, you certainly weren't in your work clothes and barely had anything on in the first place but you might have a few accessories on your person if you looked hard enough.

Two can play that game.

The game continued as you tried your best to defend your pieces from his attacks but he was too good… much to your displeasure.

By the end of the first game, Jing Yuan barely looked any different from how he was when he entered your shared home while you had to remove your own rings and piercings, putting them away in a corner neatly as to not lose them.

Jing Yuan won the first game by the rules of normal Starchess and the two of began your second round.

You were determined, but so was he.

Time passed rather quickly as you watched your boyfriend remove more accessories and you really wondered how he was able to walk or even fight with that much on his body.

You shook your head. Now's not the time for distractions.

The game progressed as you watched your pawns get taken one by one.

Rook, Bishop, a couple of soldiers and the list went on.

…You realized very late that you were going to lose.

You've never beat him in a game of starches, partially because he sneaks away your pieces but also because he's genuinely skilled at playing the game.

You were down to your last game, Jing Yuan in his shirt and pants along with some random trinkets of his uniform that you didn't even know the purpose of, you, however, were a different story.

You'd managed to get down just to your t-shirt and panties, shivering a little in both anticipation and the chill of the night.

“Do you need a blanket? You won't have anything to cover you soon enough, I'd hate to get you sick, dear.” Jing Yuan looked at you lazily.

Bastard.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“I'm good. This is the last game and by the look of it, you've lost more pieces than I have.”

He made a content noise in the back of his throat as if agreeing with you before looking down at the board and smiling.

“I'm afraid you are correct, I admire your confidence in the face of calamity. However,”

He moved his bishop in line with your king.

“Checkmate.” 

You glanced around the board, trying to find an escape route but there were none. 

There was no denying it, you had lost the third game as well.

But the rules were about clothes, you looked up at him and back at yourself.

“. . . Fuck.”

You sighed, reluctantly admitting defeat.

“Alright , alright. You win the 3 games and the whole game considering you have more layers on you than I do.” 

Jing Yuan smiled in amusement as he crossed his arms and tilted his head slightly,

“So, what's my reward for winning?” 

You were already packing up the board as you looked at him with a huff and stood up.

“I'll let you nap in the afternoon more tomorrow, that's your reward.” 

But before you could move your half naked self away, Jing Yuan moved closer and swiftly knocked your knees back so you toppled down onto him.

“Jing Yuan! I almost knocked the board on your head!”

You had wrapped your arms around his neck, scared to lose balance and plop onto the floor if he were to drop you.

“I'm interested in another reward.”

“What?”

“I'm the winner so isn't it natural I get to pick my reward? Besides, no proper terms were set for it when you explained the rules to me.”

“You little shit, you knew this was going to happen.”

“Dear, I am the divine foresight for a reason.” 

He chuckled as his hands slowly moved down your torso and to the hem of your t-shirt. 

He grasped the hem as he leaned into your body and spoke lowly in your ear

“Of course, if you don't want this, we could just revert to my original reward.” 

His hold on you was firm but gentle, indicating that he'd let you go if you wanted him to.

“But, something about the way you're trembling in my hold tells me you don't want to stop, do you?” 

Your breath was coming out in shaky puffs now. You simply looked away in embarrassment before he pressed himself closer to you, you could feel the warmth of his body through the clothes he was wearing.

“Answer me.” 

“. . . I don't want you to stop” 

He smiled against your ears and you swear if he had a tail it would be swishing around in excitement by now.

“That wasn't so hard, was it?” 

Kissing the red shell of your ear he moved your face towards him and kissed you deeply before pressing his forehead to yours.

“Now, allow me to claim my reward.”

He peppered kisses along your jaw as his hands finally, finally took your t-shirt up to your neck as you raised your arms to help him get it off.

You were down to your panties and bra now, coincidentally, you were wearing one of his favourite sets’.

His kisses continued downward, unbuckling your bra with one hand while the other appreciatively squeezed around your body.

He leaned down on your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth as his other hand tweaked with the other and you gasped, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

Your hands immediately found purchase in his soft hair as you closed your eyes and whispered his name.

Jing Yuan always , always made sure to lather extra attention to your chest, you never understood why but it had now become a sensitive spot for you.

He kissed and licked around your nipples, leaving little bites in between so that he can see them in the morning and fuck you all over again.

Deciding he'd done enough to your chest (for now) he moved his attention downwards, chuckling breathlessly at the small wet patch on your panties.

His large hand slid down as he started moving his finger up and down on your panties, making the wet patch grow bigger.

“You call me a bastard and yet have the nerve to be this wet for me, hm?” 

“S-Shut up.” 

You panted as your brain became fuzzy and warm, not being able to think of anything else except Jing Yuan touching you.

He smirked as he added pressure with his finger on exactly where your clit is and you gasped loudly. The fabric of your panties providing a weird but not unwelcome feeling.

“Do you think you can cum just from this alone?”

“I don't k-”

You cut yourself off with a loud moan as he pinched your clit and rubbed it.

“You don't know? Well, that's too bad. We'll just have to find out it seems, hm?”

You were gasping for air and moaning loudly at this point, thrashing and tugging at Jing Yuan’s hair like your life depended on it.

“I'm feeling nicer today, let's take this off, dear.” 

He tugged at your panties and your hazy mind cleared for a second 

“Jing Yuan! Don't I-”

A loud ripping sound echoed through the room as you stared in horror at the shredded remains of your panties but before you could utter a word, Jing Yuan kissed you and simultaneously continued to make circles around your clit.

You weakly slammed your fisted hands onto the hard planes of his chest but to no avail, he wasn't going to let up.

He continued flicking your clit at a faster pace before speaking into your ear.

“Be a good girl and cum for me”

You moaned as you clenched his (now crumpled) white shirt in your hands as your eyes rolled back and your orgasm flooded over your body in waves.

The general continued to make slow and gentle circles on your clit as you got down from your high, peppering your body with kisses and bites everywhere.

You were still breathing heavily when you regained your senses again.

“So, my hypothesis was correct.” 

“You're gonna pay for that, Yu.”.

You said, not sure if youre referring to the torn panties or the fact that him massaging your clit was enough to get you to cum.

“Of course I will, and any other matching set you like so I can rip them all off of your body.” 

His voice was so calm while speaking you'd almost think he was unaffected by the situation but that was far from the truth, sitting on his lap gave away that he was extremely hard underneath you.

He kissed you again, gently this time as he pulled back and bore his eye into yours.

“Do you want to continue?” 

You didn't respond, only leaning in to kiss him before bringing your hands to the collar of his shirt and unbuttoning it.

“I'm not the only one that's going to be naked here.” 

He helped you take off his whole shirt, watching you as you admired his sculpted and scarred torso. 

“Turn around for me, love.”

You did as you were told, sitting in his lap with your back against his chest.

His hands suddenly came up on you again, going downwards to your pussy as he outlined your lips. Pressing gently on the soft flesh.

Your hands immediately found purchase on top of his much bigger ones, your breathing picking up again.

He inserted two fingers in you, pushing them in and out and curling them in just the right spot, hitting your already frayed nerves and stretching you open for him. Keeping the rhythm of his fingers up, slowly getting you towards the edge again when suddenly,

You were left empty as Jing Yuan retracted his hand and wiped it onto his pants as he unzipped them, before hooking both his hands under your plush thighs and lifting your slit above his cock.

“Tell me if you need a break.”

Before you could respond, he was already impaling you on his cock, pushing you down slowly as you reached back with your hands and grabbed his neck while arching your back.

“F-Fuck- too much-”

“You can take it, I know you can.”

He whispered breathlessly as he continued pushing you down until you met the base of his cock.

“There we go.”

Jing Yuan waited for you to adjust while rubbing gentle circles on your clit, watching intently as you fought to gain back your breath.

You were struggling at this point, mind in a haze at the feeling of being so full. Not knowing where to place your hands you blurted our the first coherent thought that came to your mind.

“. . .Tie my hands, please.”

Now it was the general’s turn to be surprised, you were not one to beg usually. He smiled coyly as he grabbed your discarded t-shirt and rolled it up to form a makeshift knot.

“If i was aware we were going to this tonight, I wouldve prepared more.”

You pushed your hands out together in front of you impatiently, just wanting to move but not trusting your shaking legs to carry through.

Jing Yuan kissed around your ears again started working on binding your hands immediately. Securing it as tight as he could, he tugged on it before pecking you on the cheek.

“There. Is that better?”

“Yes.”

You were fully panting now, subtly grinding yourself on his cock.

Jing yuan took it as his cue to move and hooked his hands under your thighs again before lifting you off his cock.

The split second where you were left empty was enough for you to whine. He wasn’t a cruel lover, though, he thrusted back in, filling you instantly.

He kept the tempo of fast but deep strokes and before long you could feel your second orgasm approaching.

Suddenly, there was a change as he pushed you down onto the wooden floor face first and ass up, the angle making him reach in different areas.

Your tied hands were above your head as you got rubbed on the floor like a mop cloth from his powerful thrusts. Jing Yuan bent over and draped his larger frame over your back, holding down your shaking hands with one of his own and thrusting faster.

“Come on, come for me.”

He whispered into your ear, again, reaching his other hand down to play with your clit.

And that's all it took for you to orgasm, releasing over his cock as he kept his pace.

For a few seconds, you blanked out completely, caught up in the haze of your orgasm that you didn't even notice Jing Yuan continuing,

That was until you were brought back to reality by a hit of overstimulation, tears already collecting at your lashes as the pleasure soared through your entire body.

“Y-Yu-”

“Just a little more.”

He continued rubbing fast circles over your clit and you could feel the tendrils of your third orgasm creeping up on you as you clenched around him hard.

It pierced through you just as your boyfriend finally released inside you, hot liquid filling you up and you felt so full.

Jing Yuan panted as he rested some of his body weight on you, essentially pinning you in place and having no way to move. Just the way you like it.

He grabbed your hips with both his hands as he gently thrusted a few times to get the last few seconds of pleasure in, wrecking your already overstimulated pussy.

“. . . I think my reward is incomplete.” He said after a few beats of silence.

“Absolutely not.” 

Jing Yuan laughed breathlessly as he pulled you back onto his lap and rested himself against the sofa, wrapping his hands around your waist and putting his head on your shoulder.

The both of you relished in the afterglow for a bit with him still stuffed inside you, just enjoying and soaking each other’s presence, you were the first to speak.

“Horny bastard, you really piledrived me on the floor of our living room.” You laughed while pecking at his cheeks.

“Me? I’m the horny one now? You were the one that suggested this game in the first place!”

Jing Yuan feigned hurt as he tightened his hold on you, eyeing you cheekily as your ears turned red.

“I didn’t proposition sex! It was a game to-”

“To what? Play house with each other?” Jing Yuan asked in an amused tone before continuing,

“You wanted it to end like this, didn’t you?”

“Not on the goddamn floor! I’m gonna have bruises from this tomorrow, I hope you're happy.”

You pouted and held your (still bound) hands close to your chest, hearing Jing Yuan snicker and feeling his chest shake.

“I’ll give you a massage right now, on the bed this time, to make up for it”

“And then what? Escalate it into having sex again? I need to walk tomorrow, Yu.”

“You know me too well.”

You looked at him into his eyes and he simply gave you a crooked smile

“Untie my hands, we need to clean up and get to bed”

“Hmm… How about I let you go now and you let me enjoy my reward in the shower again?”

You sighed before nodding in acceptance, you weren’t going to feel your legs tomorrow.

This is the price you pay for provoking the sleeping lion.

“Horny bastard.”

[gofishygo]

just thinking abt ghoap x necromancer! reader.... gang ive got an idea let me cook LET ME COOOkkkkkKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!

content: dark concept beware !! angsty at the start, 141 is a little mean to you, obsession, manipulation, (allusions to) kidnapping. (blurb, wc527)

there's a new guy who comes in to fill in after soap dies. it's awkward for him- not knowing why the team glares at him like the parasites on a sunfish, the cracks in their manor. ghost seems to hate you especially; you'd been told by some of the newer recruits that he was usually cold, unfeeling- but this wasn't unfeeling. this was him glancing at you at the shooting range than firing multiple shots at the target, him digging his knife into wooden target just that bit harder when he saw you spar.

and then you meet johnny.

it's not too long until you're having full conversations with the freshly dead ghost, gravelly scottish accent and slightly crooked smile leaving your heart warm and full and almost mushy. he tells you stories, ones that the team had always held back from you; what had happened when he'd took prices hat, why gaz hates choppers, and ghost.

it doesn't take more than a few wistful smiles to know who they were to each other, why he'd never looked at you the same.

but unlike the other ghosts of the base, glaring at living enemies with glassy eyes and rabid, foaming mouths holding curses in foreign tongue, he's ... still warm. almost living.

and when ghost finds out you're a necromancer, it starts out subtle . gruff 'have you seen a lad wif' a mohawk' and such being the only queries he'd bare to talk to you for. and you tell him everything- johnny mactavish and the star wound in his head, johnny mactavish and the shiny eyes and the white grin, johnny mactavish and the boyfriend he fawns over. queries turn into questions, and questions turn into long conversations where you're the translator of two worlds. and while ghost swears he'd only ever see you as a bridge between him and the love of his life (or death?), soap can't say the same.

being a ghost has it's perks. you're no longer confined to the bounds of mortality- solid form can switch to material nothingness, being noting in plain sight. and even as a necromancer, you can't feel how he cradles your face when you sleep, how he kisses those tears away when you retire to your barracks. he doesn't let you feel those because he doesn't want you to, not yet.

hasn't forgotten about ghost, either.

and it's okay- he'll get his love on board with you too. leaves images of you in his dreams; the way your nose crinkles when you banter, the quirk of your smile. darkening the corners of his dreams with sigils and spells, rituals of reanimation. it'll be slow, but still in it's worth. he'll find you eventually.

so when ghost's eyes turn as hungry and wanting as the dead you've met, and when you can now feel johnny's pulse, you know something's gone wrong. very wrong.

too bad that there's already a pair of skeleton-gloved hands pinning as another pair wraps chloroform-stained rap around your face before you can pry any further.

and too bad that you can hear the voices of the men you'd trusted trying to soothe your through it.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Waking up is never easy, luckly there was someone willing to help today. Jjok tackled your face.

Jjok: Sibling Mc! Good morning, how are you feeling?

Mc: What?

You were still grumpy from being woken up so suddently, but you rub the sleep out of your eyes and look at the little devil in your bed. Jjok was holding a black letter wrapped in a satin ribbon up to your face. "It's from His Majesty Lucifer." He was quick to answer the question in your mind. Opening it grants you a message written in a language you weren't familiar with, but still somehow understood.

"Dear Mc,

I would like us to continue bonding even after you have deemed me a suitable mate for you. Please meet with me at 12 PULANT ( Paradise Universal Latitudinal Abriviated Time) so we may discuss our arrangement further."

Even though he had no signiture, you could tell that it was Lucifer that wrote that letter to you. You recently decided to ask him to be your boyfriend and he accepted to your surprise. It was almost sweet to see him asking you out like that. You put the letter on your nightstand and laugh happily.

Jjok: You should get ready for His Majesty Lucifer. It's almost 12 in Paradise Lost and His Majesty doesn't like waiting.

You put on your prettiest clothes and ask Jjok to teleport you to the foreign land. Before your vision returns to you, you get tackle hugged by Gamigin. He was always the most excited about your presence and now that you were dating Lucifer, he considered you to be part of the familly.

Gamigin: MC! Oh, I see you're all good! You look stunning today! Did you use a new deodorant today, or maybe a new shampoo?

Marbas: Gamigin... Leave the poor human alone.

Gamigin: How can I? They're our new sibling! Aren't you guys excited as well?!

Mc: It's fine, Gamigin gives great hugs.

Gamigin: Really? You love my hugs? Then I won't let a day pass without embracing you.

It was a sweet scene between you two, but it eventually had to stop.

Buer: His Majesty Lucifer is still getting ready for today. Would you like a message in the meantime?

Mc: You're not scamming me out of my money again.

Buer: This one's on the house. How could I make my sweet sibling pay for one of my services?

Marbas: Does that mean that you were joking yesterday?

Buer: No, you still owe me 50 dollars.

Marbas: This is why we should stop accepting immigrants.

Gamigin: Techinicly speaking all of you are immigrants

Buer, Marbas, Morax: Shut up, Gamigin!

After the small squable between the four, you decide to take Buer's offer. He always gave the best messages which made you feel more relaxed than anything in the human world. If they didn't cost so much you would ask him to do it daily... maybe that's why he doesn't make them free.

After the message, you were dragged by Morax to his room. He wanted to give you a through medical check out, to make sure his new sibling has no problems. When you tell him that he should take care of himself more, he blushes and takes your hands in his.

Morax: Would you like to replace my bandages?

The look he gave you was nothing short of adoration as he brought a new roll of white bandages to you. He slowly takes the bandages off his arms revealing his closed and opened wounds. He teaches you how to take care of a wound just in case. After you finish bandaging him up again, he opens his arms for an embrace. Even though you cannot see it, a soft smile makes its way on his face.

When you're finally done with those two you meet up with Lucifer. Your dates mainly consist of you talking to him about random stuff while he plays with your hair. When you stop talking he caress your face and hums signalling you to continue.

Meanwhile, in the bushes, the Paradise Lost gang spys on you two.

Buer: Shh! Marbas, your wheels are too loud.

Marbas: Not louder than your voice.

Gamigin: Look, look! I think they might kiss!

Buer: What?! Pass me the binoculars!

Marbas: You don't have money to buy your own?

Buer: No, I spent it all buying a gag to shut you up.

Morax: Don't talk about your bedroom activities in front of the child!

Gamigin: AAAAAAAAAAAA

Gamigin starts screaming and shaking his hands violently. He starts bouncing on his knees and hitting the air, which, in turn, makes the bells of his staff jiggle wildly. Buer and Morax try to sush him down and hide him behind the bushes.

Gamigin: Did you see?! They kissed! With tongue!

Morax: Quiet down, Gamigin, we don't want to be seen.

Buer: We don't even know how his majesty would react if he found out we're spying on his date.

Marbas: They're... so pretty together.

Buer turns around and slaps Marbas' erection like turning off a lightswitch.

Buer: Pervert!

Marbas: Who are you calling a pervert you little shit! You're so lucky I'm tied up so often. The second I get released, I'll make Gamigin work overtime to reserect you.

Gamigin: Would you really kill your brother like that?

Marbas: ...you're on thin ice.

Meanwhile

Mc: Should we stop them from staring?

Lucifer: Only if they're bothering you.

Mc: ... ok then. So, we all thought it was the bite of '87-

When your date with Lucifer is over, you go looking for Gamigin which turns out to be an extremely easy task because he was in the bush right next to you and Lucifer.

Gamigin: Are you leaving so soon?

Mc: Yeah... I need to go to Gehenna.

Gamigin: Why though? We have a lot of spare bedrooms in Paradise Lost. You can even sleep with his majesty Lucifer!

Lucifer: Gamigin...

Gamigin: Ok ok fine. But make sure you return tomorow! We're having a family board game night with everyone in Paradise Lost.

With that, you bid your fairwell and return to Gehenna.

[reverie-starlight]

this is very self-ship coded (and dreamt up under the assumption that he's very rich) but whenever you're doing some online shopping and you refuse to buy something either bc of the price or bc it's something you just can't justify in the moment, keigo will make note of it from his spot beside you and it'll be in front of your door within the week.

he loves the way your eyes shine and you hide your grin as you half-heartedly scold him for spending money on you again. both of you know he's never gonna stop, anyway, and it's not like you ever expect him to do it, so why fight him on it?

(you try to make it up to him but he refuses).

[a-small-writer-in-a-big-world]

“maybe in the next life” reader vs “i will find you in every lifetime” soap

[slasher-cam]

Would be criminal having more fanfics with plus size reader 🤢

Forsure cause it would be impossible for me to keep liking and reblogging all of them at this rate. As long as cod writers keep writing for plus size readers/character im gonna keep roblogging them

Thanks for your unnecessary input though😊

I wasn't even talking about plus-size!readers before, i was talking about plus-size!characters but just because of your attitude, I'll be making a masterlist for all the plus-size fanfics i find for my bitches and bros and nonbinary hoes even though i many not be plus size myself. I strive for diversity!!<3

Im still gonna find cod fanfics for plus-size readers and shove it down ya'lls throat

[pinkmirth]

reiner’s love language is picking up his s/o and carrying them with ease as he strolls around the house. sure, words of affirmation and gift-giving are endearing in their own right, but what’s better than effortlessly hauling your cute self over his shoulder?

[brandycranby]

literally crawling out of my skin today so here's all the things i want to stim on - ce characters version.

curtis: his wool coat, not my favorite texture to wear but its nice and rough, wanna drape it over my head and be in the dark. 😶‍🌫️ touch the beanie, following the ribs and then running my nails perpendicular so it makes the zz zz sound. his buzzcut and beard, running my hands over that like a fidget toy. shmelling him, big sniffs 🫠

jake: his chin!! his chinny chin chin wanna lay on his chest and put my ear next to his goatee while i play w it ✨️asmr✨️ tattoos tracing 💕 no thoughts only that weird bull/taurus on his shoulder and others he might have picked up in the service. hehe is he ticklish? we'll find out

steve: arm 😐 bichep 😐 chewing him, biting him very gently 😐 i think it'd be ok if i did it kinda hard too idk steebie is tough... a little masochistic maybe... wont mind if i gnaw like the hamster. would also like to sniff snorff, think he would smell very clean like laundry. reset the brain.

ari: beard beard beard beard rub rub rub scratch fluff nuzzle sneef lemme go crazy on him and then get crushed to death with a bear hug please compress all the feeling out of me. smells very good big sniffs 😣 hides in his flannel, no light good

andy: get rid of tie.. and button up 🥺 looking makes me overstimulated. touch the beard, touch the quiff, brushie brushie. lay head on shoulder and be rubbed on the back, sneef sneef the cologne smell in a quiet room 😖

ok thats all the brain power i have in me. gonna go blanket burrito myself and sniff a candle. 💕💕 feel free to reblog and add your own stims.

[loveoaths]

i can’t stop describing maul as innately predatory, radiating silky danger and watchful teeth even when he appears at ease. the man has lived his entire life as a tiger in a cage; he does not do soft, because soft gets you killed, and he refuses to die.

i love writing him feline, elegant and animal bound together. there is something about him that innately triggers the primal in all who encounter him: the hair on your body pricks up, every sensory nerve kicking to life as that ancient evolutionary awareness that something is watching you, and it is hungry settles too-tight on your skin. his presence is paranoia, it’s that inner prickle when you whip around because you can feel someone watching you, but no one’s there. uncanny. unnerving. unwanted.

even when he’s caught and locked in a cell and you are separated by bars and force-blocking cuffs and solid walls, watching him watch you back feels like seeing a caged tiger for the first time, comes with the rapid onset feeling of, “oh.” this person, this thing is so much bigger, so much more dangerous, so much more unknowable than you ever anticipated, and for a split second you do not believe those cage bars will contain him. but then you think, no, metal is metal and you’re safe here. you’re safe. you are. and maul looks at you, contained, padding his cell carefully, knowing exactly when to turn without looking, golden eyes aglow and fixed on yours, and you can almost hear, in the menacing rumble unfurling inside his chest, an ancient word, one your animal ancestors knew but you’ve since evolved too far past to recognize, that feels a lot like “for now.”

[katasstrophy]

haitani ran tells you he doesn’t care about you knowing full well he’d burn the entire world down for you if you so much as asked what a fucking loser i’m gonna marry him

[cerise-on-top]

Hi!! This might be awkward because it's my first time requesting something but I'll try my best.

Could you write a Fem!Reader x Farah where the reader is a Belly Dancer?

Just them meeting and feeling a spark between them. I'm a dancer and it would mean the world to me.

Thanx in advance!

Hey there! I went a little wild with that one since I've been wanting to write something a bit more elaborate for a while now, hope you don't mind =)

Farah with a Belly-Dancer!Reader

The chill of the evening made you shiver, its breeze gently caressing your skin as though you were a lover long lost. And yet, your performance continued as the audience cheered for you. Four evenings you had been performing now, calming the minds and souls of the weary freedom fighters that battled demons each day, trying to gain their freedom from their cruel oppressors. In the darkness of the night, you danced, giving them a glimpse of hope, showing them what they’re fighting for: A future in which neither man nor woman, adult nor child, had to fear for their life. A future in which everyone was treated as equal with love and compassion. From the ashes of war, that future would arise, growing, nurtured by the community found in the broken homes of the people crying for help. You were there to remind the fighters that that was the life to be had once all of this was over.

A small celebration it was, with many having gone to bed, dreaming of green plains among which their children would play. But not you. You would dance the night away. For as long as you could move, for as long as you could improve someone’s night, you would continue to dance. Your graceful movements, paired with the drums of another, made for quite the spectacle. Although tired, the people cheered for you to continue, to entertain them with your entire being. Those fights riddled them with fear, engraving into their hearts emblems of terror, but you dulled the pain, if just for the duration of which you performed your heart out. The rewards weren’t applause, whistles and flowers being thrown at your feet, it was tomorrow. A tomorrow that was one day closer to being ideal. One day, the wars would be over, but until then you shall hold on.

And the chill of the evening almost made her shiver as well. Farah took notice of the gathering of people over at the building, convening in front of it as though offerings to praise the gods were being made. But there was no such thing, for a benevolent and kind deity would never allow this many of her brothers and sisters to fall. And yet, her curiosity betrayed her in that she turned to look at the blissful scene. As her people clapped along to the music, she felt intrigued. Who was it that brought joy in such dark times? Who would bring about such bright smiles? Who would make those soldiers feel at ease during times of war? It must have been someone, who had lost their mind, evidently. And yet, there was a sense of gratitude. Why wallow in misery, one day it will all have been worth it. One day, those uncertain times would finally be over and they could finally rebuild their cities from the rubble, that, which has been so unfairly been laid waste to.

And among that stage was something Farah would have never believed, had she not seen it with her own eyes. A trick of the dim light, perhaps. Maybe even a phantom, sent to entice her. She was strong, much more so than even her closest companions would believe, but what she saw on stage gave her a feeling of contentment. There was no certainty you were real, perhaps you were an illusion caused by her fears and worries, perhaps you were a foul demon that sought to get her off her path of righteousness. Either way, you were ethereal. The passion behind your movements was enough to convince her that you must have been some greater being. You brought cheer and happiness to the almost hopeless. Oh, how Farah wished she could have gone onto that stage, show her chivalrous side and protect you from all harm. But her mission would allow her to do so anyway.

And what you saw almost made you freeze in place. A woman, hardened by the battles she’s fought and won, but the kindness in her eyes was very much there. She was rough around the edges, she had been beaten down so many times, but she never ceased to fight, she never ceased to do what was right. For herself and the people she believed in. From below, she stared right back at you, her eyes sparkling brighter than the stars above. Although you had recognized her from hearsay, you never would have thought you would get to see her in person, much less have someone of such importance watch your performance. It was the incentive you needed, the energy boost given to you after a small break, that invigorated you. You were born anew under her gaze, a warm feeling overcoming you. And just like that, just because that woman watched you with such intent, you could continue to dance the night away.

But even as that youthful joy began to settle in your heart, you felt the urge to talk to that woman. She, who had no name you knew of so far, had captivated you in a way you couldn’t describe as you were. Perhaps the gods knew what it was you were feeling, but you, a mere mortal, lacked the understanding. And thus, as the masses slowly began to disperse, seeking the warmth of rest, you stepped off the stage for just a moment. There she was, her arms crossed, and yet she seemed approachable. With a gentle smile, she waved you over. In a world where most deities seem to leave humanity to fend for its own, why would a goddess of beauty, love and war come to call you, of all people? It was an enigma you had naught but an inkling of a reason. And yet, despite all the wars she’s fought in, she seemed to be so kind. Your heart was drawn to hers.

“Your performance was really nice.” Her voice, sweeter than sugar trapped in honey, enticed you. Her melodious voice beckoned you closer, and you followed suit.

“Thank you, that’s very kind of you. You’re the commander, right? It’s an honor to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Almost shy in your approach, but you seemed more fierce than a lion defending his own kin. Although you held no guns, you fought for your beliefs in your own ways. How admirable.

Farah may not have been a believer of destiny, thinking that one could only carve one’s own path as the world would do whatever it took to prevent one from achieving the greatest of things, but it felt as though her and you had been intertwined. Oh, what cruelly sweet fate had brought you together? What made you meet under these circumstances? But perhaps fate had brought you together for a reason?

And for the first time that evening, the both of you could finally share in the warmth of a new companionship.

[milchig-de]

I want to study you.

Pairing: Scaramouche x Reader (platonic/romantic)

Warnings: Curse words

Summary: You study Scaramouche (he does not take it particularly well).

Notes: I wrote this bc of the new archon quest and scaramouche's drip marketing, but it contains NO SPOILERS for the actual 3.2 update. the only 'spoilers' are for the drip marketing but even then im not sure you can call it that considering its like. one picture thats probably everywhere already. but you have been warned regardless (also sry for bad pic and fic quality. ive gotten out of practice with writing and i didnt want to show the whole picture but it worsens the quality when i cut it) reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

"What are you doing here all by yourself?"

Scaramouche turned around to find someone standing behind him. He didn't know this person and they weren't wearing clothing that could point them to a specific nation or organization.

"What do you want?",

He answered with the most malice he could muster. The stranger smiled at him politely.

"I'm just looking out for a fellow traveller. This area is ridden with monsters. You should be careful."

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Tch. I can handle myself."

Cocking their head, they let their eyes wander over his form. Scaramouche squirmed under their gaze. It felt odd, but nice. Like he was being studied very carefully. It was nothing like the way others had looked at him, apprehensive and cautious. It stirred something in him, like a memory he suppressed.

But when he stared back into their eyes and they met his gaze, suddenly the sensation of being studied became overwhelming, their eyes boring into his own, his skull, his brain, looking much further and deeper than his bones and flesh, opening him as easily as a book, reading his every thought and feeling, he didn't know how much longer he could stand it, roughly being picked up and placed under a microscope, having his very being so exposed- and then they redirected their gaze somewhere else, Scaramouche too busy with this feeling to care.

After a slight pause, which he used to recover, they turned back to him. The same polite smile as before graced their face and it made his heart skip an unsure beat, wondering whether they had really managed to read him completely.

"Would you mind if I stayed here?"

Scaramouche had to swallow hard before he could speak, his throat having dried up completely and still being thrown off a little.

"No. Like I said I can handle myself."

They raised their eyebrows a tad. Did they notice he didn't put as much malice in as before? Or perhaps... Did they think he could not handle himself? Did he look that incompetent? The very thought made him furious. If they really had managed to somehow read his thoughts, they would've known that he may have had his faults, but he was not stupid.

"I'm not asking because of you. I'm asking because of me. It's always safer with someone by your side. Don't you agree?"

He let out a snort.

"Of course it's safe. Until they turn their back on you."

The stranger cocked their head to the side and mustered him again. This time, Scaramouche was wise enough to not look into their eyes so they wouldn't gaze into his like that again. Who knows what they would manage with another chance at reading him.

"Well I'm going to stay here. If you're not comfortable with that, I don't mind going a distance away."

"Tch. Do whatever you want."

He turned his body away from them. A few footsteps were heard before the rustling of equipment sounded. Keeping his eyes firmly stuck on his make-shift tent, which consisted of a blanket pulled on a few smartly arranged sticks, he pondered who they were. If they were any sort of famous person, he was sure he would've found out about them on his travels. Furthermore, if they were just an average traveller, how did they do it?

The rustling behind him had stopped, indicating they had finished setting up. They walked around again.

"Would you mind if I used your fireplace? You can have some food as well, if you want."

"Like I said, do whatever you want."

Taking this as a yes, they started working, presumably preparing food.

Leaning back a bit, Scaramouche looked up to the stars. His hands fiddled with his clothes. He was so confused. Why did he have such an intense feeling before? Were they a magician? Or perhaps an insane scientist such as Il Dottore with some crazy device? There was no way they were just some ordinary human. Maybe he shouldn't have let them stay with him. What if the best course of action was to leave while he still had the chance? There's no telling what they would do while he rested. Desperately searching, he looked to the stars for answers, yet they provided none, as always.

He had been eager to get into astronomy, yet it wasn't as easy as it seemed. Regardless, he would not give up so fast. Maybe if he tried just a little harder, he would finally see what fate had prepared for him. Then he could never be betrayed or used again. He could protect himself from a feeling such as the one he had had before. He would finally be someone with an inkling of power. Maybe some day he could show it to... He shook his head. What nonsensical thoughts. Whatever the reason for this thinking, it didn't matter. He would push on and pursure his goals, he was sure of it.

An exclamation from behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. Turning back to them, he noticed a delicious aroma of soup floating around. It made his stomach growl. Upon hearing it, the stranger gave him a soft smile and offered him a bowl of soup. His stomach growled. Disgruntled that he was hungry enough to accept the stranger's hospitableness, he snatched the bowl, without spilling any soup of course. But he was still distrustful, so he took the time to carefully sniff the soup and test it for any poison. Who knows what they'd do if he gave them the chance. They merely watched with an amused expression while eating their own bowl of soup, as if they knew what was going through his head, which made him even angrier.

After determining that they werent trying to poison him, he relaxed a bit and ate a spoon of soup. It was quite delicious, filling his stomach with warmth and a distinct sense of home. ... Home? He was having the oddest thoughts today. It's a soup, how could it possibly feel like home? Yet he couldn't help but eat more of it, craving the feeling it gave him.

His opposite had already finished their bowl, and now observed him while he was eating. They put their head on their hand. Their gaze bore into him. He didnt like the way they looked at him. It almost felt like they knew something he didn't and were pitying him. He had no need for pity of any sort and especially not from them. They were still a danger to behold, as he still knew nothing about them, yet they seemed to know everything about him.

Suddenly, they spoke to him again.

"How have you survived this long by yourself?"

Scaramouche almost choked on his soup.

They couldn't know... No, there was simply no way. Even if he felt otherwise, there was no logical way for them to have read so deeply into his past. They must instead be talking about his lack of a companion, which made him angry once again. After properly finishing his bite, he snapped at them that he wasn't incompetent.

"Ah, it seems you misunderstood me. I'm not doubting your abilities to survive on a physical level. You're lonely. So much so that even the small kindness of offering you food has made you desperate for more. If the way you've been devouring my soup is anything to go by."

His cheeks warmed and he stumbled over his words, trying to come up with a good comeback. Of course they were wrong, he would never crave anything like human closeness. At the end of the day he wasn't even human. So they had no reason to assume anything like that.

A soft laugh escaped them and he could only marvel at it. It sounded so beautiful........ly stupid. Yes very stupid because they were laughing at him. It's not like they had any right to laugh, they didn't have any companion either. And he told them as such. Stopping their incessant laughter, they nodded.

"It's true I'm on my own myself, but I'm not as lonely as you. I sense that you've been betrayed in your past, which has caused you severe issues, am I right?"

His jaw fell open. What the fuck. He had been hesitant to believe that his feeling from before was correct, yet here they were, talking as if they truly knew him. It seemed they were even more powerful than he had suspected. Even more reason to worry, as now he had to do his best to protect not only his physical form and goods from strangers but also his emotions. Considering this was his first time having his emotions, past and thoughts read, he had a lot ahead of him to work through. It was of the utmost importance that such a thing never happen again, after all he couldn't just spill his secrets to any person he came across who could cross into his mental state and-

"It's okay."

Scaramouche looked up at them. Nothing was okay. This total stranger had just turned out to be a mind-reading freak and he had no way to protect himself from them.

"It was just a guess. And judging from your shocked expression, I was indeed correct. You're quite obvious about it, you know. Although I can't exactly say you're wrong, there are plenty of people out there who would stab you in your back as you sleep. Speaking from experience, by the way."

Oh. So they were just good at reading people. He had worried all about nothing. A certain sense of relief flooded him, yet there was also an anger present. Mostly directed at himself for feeling so exposed by their gaze and thus accidentally exposing himself.

"Hm, if you're worried about being betrayed, why don't we become companions? We could protect each other."

What a stupid idea. They weren't excluded from betraying him, so why would they suggest something like that. Truly one of the dumbest things they had said tonight.

They readjusted their position to be kneeling. Looking up at him, they put their hand on their chest, as if they were making an oath.

"I will stay by your side, I promise."

Scaramouche was confident they were lying but.... They looked at him with such an honesty in their eyes, it felt like they were trying to trying to lay themselves open in the same way he had exposed himself by accident. Perhaps he could learn how to grasp a person just by being around them for a bit by this stranger.

Fully aware of the risk he was taking, he decided to agree.

After all, he wanted to start a new life. He even rid himself of anything that reminded him of his old life, such as the stupid colours he had worn before. There was no way for him to start fresh if he decided to be stuck in his old mindset of violently pushing the people away that came to close to him.

So, after some pondering, he looked them straight in the eyes.

"Okay. But don't you dare break your promise."

They gave him a toothy grin. It was cute.

"I won't. I know it."

The smallest of smiles pulled at Scaramouche's mouth, which he hid by returning to his unfinished soup. While he did as such, the stranger started telling him a story from their last travel. For once, he had gained a semblance of peace and happiness, content in listening to their ramblings.

And so, they would continue their following travels together, wandering the nations of Teyvat, content in being just that: Wanderers.

[bereft-of-frogs]

so the 'Qimir/the Stranger is actually [ insert high republic character here ]' theories have started to escalate, Imri was one thing, today I saw someone suggest the Stranger is Cohmac and I laughed out loud.

But also sure. The Stranger is Cohmac. XD Why tf not. Except for all the, you know, 'humans don't live that long' and 'their descriptions and official character art do not match Manny Jacinto at all' 'it doesn't actually make sense' but people keep countering that with 'energy transfer' so I guess Qimir really could be anybody.

Wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if it was Azlin Rell. Fucking Azlin. That would be SO funny if he energy-transferred himself into Qimir to live another hundred extra years, to continue being the worst. It would be so funny. Absolutely no one else would find it funny but I would personally find it absolutely hilarious if 'scenic route guy' is Qimir