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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months ago

Text

Wake up (part 2)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky will not abandon you unconscious while hoping for answers about what viciousness is running through your body. After all, Hydra always takes everything a person has to offer.

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past; Bucky is going through some emotional shit here; Hydra; vomiting; seizure; guilt and self-blame; medical setting and distress; grief; PTSD; anxiety; panic attacks; so much angst

Author’s Note: A second part to Wake up has been the winner of my poll, so here we are. I’ve been sticking with the angst of the first part and I'm not gonna lie, this might have been the hardest thing I’ve written so far. So, please read the warnings before diving in and be beware that this does not end well. (I really don’t believe that all hope’s lost but read for yourself) But I actually do like how this turned out despite it hurting me so much lol. Let me know what you think ♡

part three

Angstober Masterlist | Masterlist

Bucky Barnes has lost a lot in his long life.

He has lost pieces of himself - some torn away violently, others slowly dissolving in his grasp no matter how hard he tried to keep them.

It was torturous and agonizing, prolonged over time, creating empty voids where something complete once used to be.

He has lost the weight and warmth of his own limb, his left arm stolen from him under the most excruciating circumstances, only to be replaced by a piece of metal that messed badly with his nerve endings.

His body bears the evidence. Scars marrying his flesh, muscle and sinew replaced by cold and unfeeling vibranium.

His mind has suffered even worse. Memories shattered, rewritten, erased. A name that once meant something - James Buchanan Barnes - reduced to something foreign, something he had to claw his way back to.

He has been unmade and remade too many times to count, his identity fractured into a thousand pieces. Each one holds remnants of the pain, of orders barked in languages he barely recognizes, of faces he was forced to forget the moment they fell.

His past is an open wound that never quite heals, no matter how much time passes. He has lost friends, family, freedom - every tether to the life he once lived.

But he survived.

Somehow, despite the things Hydra did to him, despite the decades of blood staining his hands, despite the decades of his limbs moving to another brain, despite the guilt slithering through his veins and dragging its nails down his spine. He survived.

He fought his way back. For you. Because of you. You helped him get himself back.

And that’s why this loss - your loss - would be different.

He doesn’t even acknowledge this with dramatics, doesn’t try to make it sound noble or poetic. It’s not something to be proud of. It’s just the truth. A certainty.

If you leave him, he will not survive. He would not even try.

A simple fact that is not simple at all.

It’s the most devastating, soul-crushing fact of his existence.

Because if you never open your eyes again - if those beautiful, expressive eyes, the ones that soften whenever they land on him, the ones that twinkle like stardust only for him because you love him so much - stay closed forever, then what reason does he have to go on?

If he never sees that smile again, the one that makes his knees weak, that makes his chest feel too small to hold everything he feels for you - the smile only made for him because you love him so much - then what point is there in taking another breath?

If you never wrap your arms around him again - never squeeze him so tightly he can feel your affection seep into him, warming the coldest, most forgotten parts of him, because you love him so much - then what is he supposed to do with himself?

If your lips never touch his again, never press against his skin, never ghost over his own in those kisses that steal his breath even if it is a simple peck, or if you end up breathlessly clinging to each other, all because you love him so much - then he might as well have nothing at all.

And if your voice - your sweet, adoring, and grounding voice - never speaks those three words again, the ones that leave him on this world, the ones that remind him that despite everything, despite all that he has done and all that he has lost, he is still capable of being loved - if he never gets to hear those words again, then there will be nothing left of him.

Because without you he is just a man with too many ghosts and too little purpose. A man trying to walk on broken legs, reaching for something, grasping at something, hoping for something, that will never be found.

He would not survive it. Not again. Not this time.

Bucky doesn’t remember the run to the med bay.

It went so fast but also way too slow.

Moments before, he was in your shared room, shaking you, begging for you to wake up, and then, he was barreling down the hallways, your body limp in his arms.

His boots slammed against the floor, his breath coming in ragged rasps. His grip around you was so tight that if you had been awake, you would have told him to ease up, that you weren’t going anywhere with that soft and gentle voice of yours. But you weren’t awake. It was only him.

He doesn’t remember how many doors he crashed through, doesn’t recall how many people shouted his name as he stormed through the compound like a man possessed.

All he could focus on was you, your weight in his arms, the unmanageable silence coming from you. It was too quiet. Too still.

You were and still are the only thing in his focus. The only thing in his mind.

The moment he bursts into the med bay, Bruce is already moving, eyes wide behind his glasses as he takes one look at Bucky’s desperate face - at you - and points to the nearest examination table.

“Put her down. Now.”

Bucky hesitates for only a second.

“Barnes!” Bruce snaps, voice sharp.

And Bucky moves, his hands trembling as he lowers you onto the cold metal table, his touch lingering longer than it should have, afraid you will leave him the moment he lets go.

Then Bruce is there, hands on you, tilting your head, checking your pulse. Bucky feels something inside him snap.

Bile surges up his throat, hot and acidic, and before he can stop himself, he staggers backward, barely making it to a medical waste bin before his stomach heaves violently. His whole body shakes with the force of it, his metal hand clutching the edge of the table so hard it groans under the pressure.

He only hears someone - Tony - mutter behind him. “Jesus. Alright, Barnes, maybe you should-”

“No.�� His voice is hoarse, sore. He doesn’t even look up, just wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his entire body coiled so tightly he feels like he might snap in half.

He is not leaving.

He doesn’t hear whatever else is said because Bruce is calling for Dr. Cho, his voice tight, controlled but urgent. She appears within moments, already shrugging into her white coat as she assesses the situation with a practiced eye.

“Tell me everything,” she demands, moving beside Bruce as they work over you.

“She was exposed to something - some kind of airborne agent.” Bruce says quickly, Bucky not able to get a word out. “Came back from the mission fine, but then-”

“Then she wouldn’t wake up,” Bucky rasps, his voice barely above a scratchy whisper. He forces himself to step closer again, his fingers jerking at his sides. He wants to touch you, needs to touch you, but Bruce has already started attaching monitors to your chest, your temples, your wrist.

So Bucky can only stare at your unmoving face, and his gut contracts dreadfully, twisting like a wrung-out rag. A breath flees his mouth in a rough gust.

Because you are lying here, looking as if you are fading further away by the second.

Bucky is grateful that no one is paying him any mind.

Every ounce of attention in the room is on you, and that’s exactly where it needs to be. No one spares him so much as a glance, and hell, he is thankful to be ignored.

Because if they looked at him, they would see the way his hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Even the metal seems to be quivering, the nerve endings in his shoulder acting up. They would see his chest rising and falling too fast, his breaths sharp and strained like he is moments from shattering into something unrecognizable.

But none of it matters. Because you are still lying there, too still, too limp, too silent, too pale against the stark white of the medical bay’s harsh lights.

The color has drained from your face, your lips slightly parted, your breathing faint but regular. It’s the only sign of life you give.

Your head remains tilted unnaturally to the side, strands of hair sticking to your cheek from the moisture of Bruce’s sensors as they gather data, searching for something that might explain what the hell is happening to you.

Tony is somewhere behind him, speaking hurriedly into his earpiece. “Yeah, well, tell me something useful, here, Fitz!” His voice is sharp, frustration a part of it, but there is something else there, too - something too close to fear. Bucky doesn’t hear that in Tony often. “I don’t care what Fury’s saying - no, I don’t care - just get me those samples analyzed faster.”

There are agitated voices somewhere to his left. Steve and Natasha. Steve is trying to get to him. Bucky knows it without turning around. He can feel his best friend's presence, hear the urgency in the way his boots scruff against the floor, the way his voice lowers as he mutters something to Natasha, arguing. But the redhead doesn’t budge, Steve doesn’t reach him, and Bucky is left standing in place, barely keeping himself upright.

Bruce and Dr. Cho are working in tandem over your body. Bruce adjusts the monitors, his fingers hovering over your wrist for a moment, measuring something by touch alone. His jaw is tight, his usual steady hands moving just a fraction quicker, his eyes switching between the data on the screen and your unmoving form.

Dr. Cho is settling up and IV, her hands deft as she inserts the needle into the delicate skin of your forearm. The bag above you fills with something clear, something Bucky doesn’t recognize, but he trusts her. He has to. She murmurs something to Bruce, and he nods, glancing at one of the monitors before adjusting the oxygen mask now resting over your face.

“We need a full toxicology scan,” Dr. Cho says, voice firm but calm. Something Bucky can’t manage right now. “Start running a metabolic panel and check for neurotoxins. If this was airborne, we need to know if it’s still in her system.”

Bruce is already moving, tapping rapidly at a tablet screen. “Her vitals are stable, but they’re low - lower than they should be. She’s there, but barely.”

Bucky’s hands clench into fists, his nails digging into his palms, he is sure even the metal will have marks. His head is spinning, everything outside of you irrelevant to him. There is too much movement, too many sounds, too many people talking, but none of it matters because you still haven’t moved. You still haven’t opened your eyes.

His bones feel like they are collapsing. Like a house of cards caught in a slow fall.

And Bucky swears that if you don’t wake up soon, he won’t be able to breathe at all.

The waiting for results is maddening. He is hardly moving, hardly breathing, only able to wait for someone to say something that will make sense of this.

Bruce is the first to speak. He pushes his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, squinting at the tablet in his hands like maybe if he looks at it long enough, the numbers will rearrange themselves into something different. Something fixable.

“There’s nothing,” he says, voice quieter than before. Stunned.

Bucky blinks, his body stiffening. “What?”

Bruce glances at Dr. Cho, but she is already busy studying the results on a separate screen, her lips pressed tightly together.

“Nothing toxic in her blood,” Bruce continues, carefully neutral. “No neurotoxins, no foreign substances - nothing that should be causing this.”

Bucky’s insides lurch, churning like a sea under a violent storm. He tilts his head forward as if he misheard, his mind running. “No. No, that’s not-” He gestures uncoordinatedly to where you still lay, unmoving, breath slow but there. ��Look at her! There’s gotta be something.”

Dr. Cho finally speaks, measured but voice set. “Medically speaking, she should be awake.”

Bucky got shot in the chest once.

He still doesn’t know how he survived. It hurt like hell.

But those words are the bullet that will tear through his heart, make him crumble, kill him.

Should be awake.

But you fucking aren’t.

“You’re saying she’s fine,” he grits out, his tone steely, voiced with something dark. The same darkness that knots deep in his belly. “But she’s not moving, not waking up, not-” His voice breaks, and he presses his mouth closed so tightly to make a sound stop from boiling up. His head shakes vehemently. “There has to be something.”

“Bucky-” Bruce tries, but Bucky doesn’t let him finish.

“Check again.” His voice is lower now, dangerous, but everybody surely hears the desperation in his tone. “Check again, check everything - you must’ve missed something.”

Bruce exhales, rubbing his temples. “I’ve run the tests twice-”

“Damnit, then run it a fucking third time.” Bucky’s voice rises.

“We’ve checked everything. There is nothing wrong-”

“Then why isn’t she waking up?” Bucky roars, and suddenly, everyone in the room is dead silent.

Tony looks between Bucky and the doctors, his expression grim. Steve, who had edged closer, takes a careful step back, but looks at Bucky warningly, yet still utterly sympathetic. Natasha has just the slightest sheen over her eyes herself, but tries to keep her composure. Sam is standing in a corner, watching without a single remark. That’s new for him.

Even Bruce and Dr. Cho pause for just a second, eyes falling to him.

Then Dr. Cho exhales sharply, snapping her gloves off with quick, almost harsh movements. “Everyone out. Now.”

Tony raises a brow. “You kicking us out, doc?”

“Yes,” she replies curtly. “You’re all in the way. We need to focus. Here are too many people. This won’t help us and it won’t help her.”

Steve hesitates but eventually nods, throwing one last glance at Bucky and at you before stepping out, Tony following behind. Natasha slips out almost quickly, searching for a place to be alone. Sam leaves without a word, expression stony. The room empties.

But Bucky doesn’t move.

“Bucky,” Bruce says, softer now, as if he is speaking to a wild animal, careful not to startle it. “You should go too.”

Bucky doesn’t even blink. “No.”

Dr. Cho frowns unpleased, crossing her arms. “You’re not helping her by being here. You’re just getting in the way.”

“I’m not leaving,” Bucky grinds out, planting his feet like a goddamn mountain. His breathing is too rough, his pulse too high, but he doesn’t have time to care. The only thing he cares about is not to leave you.

Dr. Cho lets out a breath through her nose, but she doesn’t argue further. There is no time to fight with a stubborn ex-assassin who looks like he’s one wrong word away from losing his mind.

“Fine,” she relents, turning back to Bruce. “Then stay out of the way. We have work to do.”

Bucky doesn’t even acknowledge her.

Guilt sits in his chest like something rotten. It is an anxious tangle of nerves and dread and agony that curl in his stomach, inescapable. It’s as if his body is rejecting him all over again.

It feasts on every nerve and every cell and gnaws and gnaws and gnaws, hollowing him out from the inside.

He let himself believe that you were fine. That this is just his paranoia, just his need to keep you wrapped up, shielded from every possible danger - the worry he always feels for you, the way he clings so much.

But your chest rises and falls so slow and mechanical, and it’s not right. Your color is drained to the point that you look ghost-like. It’s as if your body is just pretending to be alive. As if it’s just waiting for something, stalling.

You look like you are already knocking on death’s door.

And they try to tell him there is nothing wrong.

The words make his scull vibrate with rage, but even more so with fear. Such a gripping and burning fear. His pulse is a single beat he can feel all along his skin.

Because what if there really is nothing? What if there is nothing to fix and you are already half gone?

His hands are trembling so hard, not even forming a fist can stop it.

He should have brought you here sooner. Should have forced you here the second you got back, should have ignored your reassurances, your sugary and alluring voice telling him that you feel fine and that you love him and there is nothing to worry about.

But he did worry.

He did have that awful, gut-deep feeling, a whisper in the back of his mind, telling him that something was wrong. But he convinced himself that it was just him. That you are fine. And you would be fine. And this was nothing. And there was nothing to worry about. That you would wake up and smile that soft smile at him and wish him a good morning, honey. You sleep well? with your endearing morning voice and all would be fine because you would be there and awake and with him and in his arms and the sun filtering in would illuminate your body and make you gleam in your ethereal glow and he would tell you you look beautiful and you would giggle and you would kiss him and you would tell him you love him and he would repeat it a thousand times over and-

He wants to throw up again, feeling the nausea rise. He wants to undo whatever led you here, wants to rip apart the universe until he finds the moment where he should have acted, should have saved you, should have known better.

Because things like that happen to Bucky Barnes.

The voices are there. Bruce and Cho speaking in hushed and clinical tones, words slipping past his ears. He hears them. Knows they are saying things that should matter. Should mean something.

But he can’t focus.

Because the only thing his brain registers, the only thing anchoring him to anything right now, is the slow and rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor.

It pounds in his eardrums, in the space behind his eyes, sinks beneath his skin. Unchanging. It should be a comfort. A reassurance. But it’s not.

It sounds too artificial - as if it’s the machine keeping you here instead of your own will. Instead of you.

His heart seems to try and outrun a fate that has not been decided yet. His hands flex and curl, doing nothing else. He is so helpless. Drowning in the air, like a scream caged behind his ribs with no way to escape.

Bucky is not a man who would ever think about praying.

But for you, he would sink down onto his knees and beg, beg until his lungs give out, plead until his voice dies, and him with it.

He wants to move. Wants to do something. But all he is forced to do is watch. Watch the way your body doesn’t stir, the way your lips remain slightly parted, breath scarcely there. You seem asleep in a way that isn’t right.

Bruce says something. He doesn’t catch it.

Dr. Cho responds, sharper this time, with a note of urgency in her tone. But Bucky still can’t process the words.

Because the beeping is the only thing.

The only proof that you are still here.

The sole factor preventing his thoughts from plunging into a darkness he can't drag his way out of.

The sound of your heartbeat, manufactured and distant, is the only thing between him and utter ruin.

And then it stutters.

Just for a second. A fracture of a hesitation, a hiccup in the mechanical pattern.

But it is clear.

And Bucky’s breath seizes, every nerve ending in his body lighting up under a fire that might just burn him to the ground.

Another stutter.

He lunges forward without thinking, knocking something over in the process, metal clattering against tile. Bruce shouts his name, Cho curses, but Bucky doesn’t hear anything.

Because something is happening.

The beeping stutters again. Then again.

Then your body jerks. A sudden, unnatural motion, like a puppet with its strings, yanked too hard. Your chest arches up, limbs jolting, fingers curling in on themselves like they don’t belong to you anymore.

The heart monitor lets out a rapid sequence of beeps, the steady pattern broken, discordant - like a song ripped apart note by note.

A seizure.

Bucky doesn’t even have time to feel the utter terror pumping up his belly and rushing up to his face in less than half a second, only that it is propelling him forward. He doesn’t care that Bruce and Cho are already moving, doesn’t care that there are hands trying to hold you down, voices shouting instructions.

He drops to his knees by your head because his legs won’t hold him up anymore. His hands reach instinctively - one cradling the back of your head, the other threading into your hair, gripping almost too tight, as if he can keep you here just by holding on. He never should have let go in the first place. Another thing to hate himself for.

“No, no, no, baby, baby, please-” His voice is wrecked. Shattered and gravelly, rasping against his throat like it’s tearing him apart from the inside out. The words barely make it past his lips, broken things gasped between strangled sobs.

“Stay with me, doll. Please. Please, don’t- don’t do this, you don’t get to do this, not to me, not to me-”

His breath is failing him, catching on every desperate syllable, every plea. His chest aches and caves under the panic and horror, he can’t hold himself up properly anymore. His forehead presses against yours, his tears hot where they land on your skin, his entire body shaking against you.

He is crying, saying things not even he understands. His voice is a single crack, a sound so undone it doesn’t sound human. He begs and begs and begs, but you continue to cramp.

A sob rips through him, brutal and loud, and he sucks in a desolate breath between the wreckage of his words.

He doesn’t know the way Cho and Bruce are working frantically, doesn’t hear the sounds of other people in white coats hectically running around.

All he knows is you.

And the way your body seizes beneath his hands, the way your face remains slack, the way your breath catches as if your body itself is deciding whether to keep you here or let you go.

Bucky grips you harder and presses his lips to your temple in a way that is almost rough.

“Stay with me,” he whimpers against your skin, voice not even a real whisper, hoarse and thick with cries. “I can’t lose you. Won’t survive. I won’t survive.”

You gasp.

Your body stills. Limbs falling back onto the hard table with a sharp clang.

And his world is falling apart, into itself, collapsing, crumbling. His eyes fail, not showing him the whole picture anymore, burning his vision away and replacing it with cruel pictures. He falls into an abyss so deep he won’t ever meet the ground and the reprieve of shattering into the floor-

Beep.

A single note.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

It’s rhythmic. It’s there.

Your heart is still beating.

The sound sends a shockwave through his chest, his heart, his core, him. It rattles his ribs.

Bucky shudders. A deep, guttural sob rips through him and he buries his face against your hair, his arms wrapped so tightly around you it’s as if he’s trying to fuse you to him, trying to force the universe to let him keep you.

He chokes on a sound, nothing more than a shattered breath. His body sags, overwhelmed, drained, but his hands refuse to loosen their hold on you, careful of the cables attached to your body.

The chaos of the room dims just slightly, shifting to more focus.

“That-” Bruce analyses in a clipped tone. “That wasn’t just a seizure. That was an autonomic collapse. Her body just shut down.”

Bucky is still swimming in the aftershock of nearly losing you, he can’t comprehend anything other than the smell of your hair and skin.

“That’s not possible,” Cho considers, voice low, but there is just the tiniest hint of concern in her voice now. “Not without something triggering it.”

There is shuffling around him - machines being adjusted, readings being analyzed. But Bucky stays right there, forehead pressed to yours, his thumbs smoothing over your cheekbones as if you were made of glass. “Come back to me,” he breathes, pleading. “Please come back, please. I can’t- I can’t do this without you. Can’t do anything without you. Y/n, please!”

Bruce releases a breath somewhere nearby. Bucky lost all his senses.

“I need to see the chemical breakdown of that gas - now,” he instructs.

“Come back. Come back to me, baby, come back,” Bucky croaks out, still not addressing the two discussing your situation, his voice rough and barely working. His lips don’t move from your temple.

Cho’s hands move over the tablet, scanning your vitals. “Her body didn’t just react to it. It adapted to it. And now-” She pauses, face tightening as she processes the data. “It’s waiting for something.”

Bucky heaves up a breath, a sick and swirling tension writhing in his stomach like a nest of snakes. “Waiting for what?” he finally acknowledges.

Bruce’s gaze flicks up, something apologetic and utterly pained behind his eyes. His voice is careful. “A command.”

Silence slams into the room like a sudden, vicious drop in pressure.

Bucky grows cold. The sickening sensation in him spreads. His hands tighten around you in instinctual protection.

Fucking Hydra.

“This wasn’t just some toxin or experiment,” Cho continues, flipping through the data, her expression darkening. “This was programmed. Her nervous system - her brain - it’s been put in a dormant state. Not a coma, not unconsciousness. Something else.”

Bucky is shaking his head before she even finishes speaking. “No. No, she - she’s right here, she’s breathing, she-”

But he can’t deny it. Can’t ignore the chilling, creeping terror worming around his spine, despair festering it. Because he knows this. Knows the way Hydra takes people and twists them, programs them like machines, like weapons, like him.

His stomach sinks, drops, falls - down, down, down. Falling into the abyss. Never to land. Never to return.

Nausea rolls over him in sick ways. But he can’t let him heave it up again. Because therefore, he would have to let go of you. And he will not do that.

“It’s got to be some kind of activation sequence,” Bruce says grimly. “A failsafe. Whatever was in that gas, it did something to her. Put her into a kind of-” he pauses, carefully glancing at Bucky, “-standby mode.”

Bucky’s jaw is hard, it would hurt if he could feel it. “Then wake her the fuck up.”

“We’re trying,” Cho snaps back, stress sharpening her usual calm tone. “But this isn’t just a medical problem, Barnes. It’s neurological. It’s programming.”

Bucky flinches. His fingers tangle in your hair and he tucks you impossibly closer. “She’s not a machine,”he spits out, voice shaking, harsher than he means it to be but not able to change it. “She’s not like-”

He stops himself. The words She’s not like me nearly escape, but he forces them back down his throat, though it burns.

Bruce and Cho exchange a look.

And that’s when Tony speaks up from the corner of the room - seemingly having allowed himself to come back inside - voice resolved, hard. “Then we need to figure out what the hell they were trying to turn her into.”

No. Please, god, no. Not her. Not you.

Bucky is unaware of his movements, of the way he is clutching you tighter, the way his body trembles, the sting in his throat from how ragged his breathing has been for the last couple of however long he’s been here already.

He can’t keep you from this. Can’t protect you from something that has already taken root inside you.

Just like it did in him.

His vision is a hot fog. The room nothing but a smear of sterile white light and moving shadows, the voices of Banner and Cho turning into indecipherable noise as they scramble for answers.

Tony is heading to his lap to probably run every scan known to a man on that goddamn gas. Steve is speaking too. Where did he come from? Since when is he here again? But Bucky doesn’t care. He doesn’t listen.

Because you are still motionless in his arms.

They are talking about activation sequences. Standby modes. Neurological programming. They’re using all these terms, these medical, scientific explanations - but none of them are saying what it really means.

Hydra did something to you.

Hydra put something in you.

And if there’s one thing Bucky knows, one thing that has been burned into his very being, it’s that Hydra does not give. It does not take halfway. It does not leave things unfinished.

They only ever take everything.

And only with a little bit of smoke in the air, you have been exposed to for mere minutes.

A rough, strangled sound makes its way up his throat, and it takes him a second to realize it’s even coming from him. A horrible, cracking noise of grief and rage and devastation. His fingers dig into the warmth of you, your neck, your back, your thigh, needing to feel you, needing to have you here with him even though his mind is screaming at him that all the parts of you he had are gone already.

But he won’t accept that.

Shaking fingers card through your hair, pushing damp strands away from your face, his metal hand cradling your cheek.

His voice is an aching whisper. “You’re stronger than me, you know that?” His breath shudders over the words, his quivering lips brushing against your forehead, lingering there. “You always have been.”

His thumb gently strokes over the hollow beneath your closed eye, his jaw clenching hard as he takes in the deep stillness of your body. His chest tries to draw in air but is constricted.

He can’t see you like this. You are never this still. Never motionless. You live in the moment - in bright, uncontainable energy.

“You’ll get through this.” Each word drags thickly from his throat. It hurts so much. Everything hurts so much. “I know you will. You always do. You always pull me with you, too.” His laugh is soft and hollow, broken like the man he is in process of becoming again. “Even when I didn’t want saving, you just-”

He swallows hard, squeezes his eyes together, and takes a deep breath filled with your scents. But it mingles with the sterile smell of that moisture and clinic. A tear slips past his lashes. Another follows.

“You never let go.”

His head bows, his forehead against your temple, a shallow gasp slips from his lips.

“And I won’t either.”

His flesh thumb presses lightly to your neck, enough to feel your pulse. He hears the beep of the monitor but he needs to feel it.

“I’m right here, baby,” he breathes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He presses his lips to your temple, to your cheekbones, to your forehead, your nose, everywhere he likes. Everywhere he has to. He lets himself feel the warmth of you, the thumps of your heartbeat against his fingers.

Another tear slips past when he presses another strained whisper to your skin.

“I’d go anywhere with you. I’d follow you to the end of the world. But you gotta wake up, baby.”

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice finally meets his ears, but it sounds too damn soft. As if he is talking to a wounded and aching creature.

As if he expects Bucky to break. He might. He will.

Bucky snaps his head up, and the look on his face must be something terrible because Steve actually takes a step back.

“You think I don’t know what this means?” Bucky growls, his voice a debris of sound. His hands shake so hard against you, he can’t even hold you as tight as he wants to anymore. And for the first time in his life, he hates the warmth of his flesh. Hates that the metal doesn’t run through both arms, because maybe then he wouldn’t have to feel this overpowering helplessness.

Maybe then he wouldn’t feel human enough to understand what it means to lose.

Maybe then he could just return to be the machine he was supposed to be all along.

He already feels himself going back to him.

“She’s not like me,” he snarls, voice catching on the words, breaking them apart. “She’s not going to be like me.”

No one answers him.

No one says no, of course not, she’s going to be fine, we’ll fix this, we’ll wake her up and this will just be another nightmare we all wake up from.

Because no one knows if that’s true.

Bruce’s fingers move over his tablet. “Whatever Hydra did… it’s not finished yet. We need to be prepared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky’s voice is lethal, pure steel dipping into panic.

“It means,” Bruce hesitates, glancing at Steve for help but the blonde doesn’t seem to know better, so he continues. “We don’t know in what state she is in. This could have done anything to her-”

A low, animalistic sound rumbles from Bucky’s chest. “Then we stop it.”

Bruce looks at him, eyes trying to soften, but he seems too remorseful. “We don’t even know what it is yet.”

“We stop it,” Bucky repeats, harsher this time. Because the alternative is something he can’t think of.

He sways, a choking sense of deja vu inching up his spine. He knows this feeling. He’s lived this feeling. That moment, the harsh, dizzying drop into nothingness, when you realize you don’t know yourself anymore. That you never really did.

And now, Hydra is doing that to you.

Cho stiffens suddenly, eyes rapidly moving across the screen in front of her. “Wait - something’s changing-”

Every muscle in Bucky’s body locks as his gaze snaps to you, his breath stalling.

Your fingers. The barest twitch. A tiny, nearly imperceptible movement against his chest.

But it’s there.

Bucky sucks in a breath so sharp it burns. “She’s-”

Before he can finish, your entire body spasms intensely.

Alarms shriek. Machines stutter to life. A sharp, erratic beeping floods the room.

Your scream tears through the space. Guttural and fervent and wrong.

Bucky’s blood freezes mid-flow, turning to shards of ice beneath his skin.

Because you are screaming like you are dying.

And suddenly, everyone is rushing around. Bruce and Cho are lunging forward, Steve is cursing under his breath.

Bucky can’t move.

Frost crackles through his veins, leaving only numbness behind.

You continue screaming. It sounds like it’s affecting your vocal cords.

There is winter inside of Bucky.

His arms tighten around you, his body moving on pure instinct, pressing you to him.

“It’s okay, baby,” he gasps out, not even sure if you can hear him, but he can’t help it. He cups your face between his hands, hoping to still the way you thrash around and bump your head against the metal beneath you. “I’m here. It’s me, baby. It’s Bucky. I’m here. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

But your screams don’t stop.

Your hands claw weakly at your own chest, at your throat, as if trying to get something out, as if your own skin is suffocating you. Your nails leave scratch marks on your collarbone.

And Bucky loses it.

“Do something!” he yells, his head whipping around to Bruce and Cho, his voice shredded with desperation. “Help her!”

Bruce quickly injects something into your IV, Cho adjusts the monitors as they beep wildly.

But Bucky doesn’t see any of it.

He only sees you.

His world narrows down to your face, to the way your lips part on a strained gasp, the way your body shakes in his grip, the way your screams turn to whimpers and then stop altogether.

Then, your eyes snap open.

Bucky stops breathing. Stops moving. Only stares agape.

Your gaze is on him, wide and glassy and soaked in terror.

But you look at him in a way you never looked at him ever before.

You look at him like you are not yourself anymore.

You look at him like you don’t know him.

You look at him like you don’t recognize him at all.

“Without you, the world means nothing to me.”

- Emily Brontë

Part three

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obsessiveloveistheonlylove · 10 months ago

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Yandere bruce wayne with neglected!daughter reader

Seen a bunch of neglected reader fics recently but I haven't seen one of a Reader who slowly starts to take advantage of the situation and uses batfam for their money and connections so here's this! This only focuses on Bruce for now but if anyone is interested I'd be willing to do some for the other batfam members + hcs for when/if they snap and kidnap the reader.

Was suppoused to headcanons but ended up more as long rambles than anything lol mainly set up for later posts detailing the situation

Pt1 it got too long, word count ; 2461

Unedited

___

Bruce is absolutely the most susceptible to this behavior, he feels the most guilt about the situation (as he should for being a neglectful father) and he is not going to lie to himself to try and save face and make himself feel better and if he does it's only for a short while before reality slaps him in the face and he has to see the truth. The truth is that there is no one to blame but himself.

When he first noticed your disappearance it had happened slowly… entirely too slow when he really took the time to think about it. You had been gone for a full year and he hadn't even noticed? Were you even old enough to be on your own like that? Something he felt ashamed that he even had to ask. When Alfred informs him that you're nineteen just this month he's shocked not only that you're an adult and that he didn't even realize your birthday had passed but that he couldn't even remember your face. He searches his memories for your Visage but all that he can recall is murky; he can't even remember the correct shade of your eyes or your hair and it startles him how long has it been since he took the time to properly look at you?

It takes some time but eventually he remembers your face with sudden clarity, he hadn't seen it in a while and the only image he could conjure up was when he first saw you, a small helpless looking child left on his doorstep by commissioner Gordon. your eyes held the same dull glassy look that his did the night his parents died, you had lost your mom in a similar vein he felt he could relate to at the time. he remembered seeing you and feeling sad for you but not in the way a father does for his child the way he felt was the same way he felt as Batman seeing victims in Gotham streets you didn't deserve this life but you weren't anyone close to him.

His chest aches and he remembers the way you'd clung to him your first week in the manor and then the way you wilted when he shut that down, it wasn't like he was trying to hurt you but he couldn't have you following him around everywhere especially not when gothams crime was getting out of hand even with the other members picking up his slack. So he reprimanded you, way too harshly now that he looks back on it he knows he only meant to keep you from discovering his secret but he could have worded it better instead he made it sound like you were a burden. Maybe you were to him at the time he thinks and is disgusted with himself for even letting the thought cross his head.

He reads your diary page after page until he reads through the whole thing. The first few pages are hopeful but solemn detailing how much you missed your mother but you're glad that you have a whole new family and you hope that they will like you, it's heartbreaking to read that kind of childish hope turn into sadness and then hate. You detailed how no one would make time for you that you'd tried everything to get their attention but you'd get blown off by each one it turns into rants about you asking what was wrong with you and why no one ever spent any time with you the writing was scribbled on so he knows you did it in a hurry just to vent out your frustration. The part that hurt most were the pages about him, you had nothing good to say about him in fact in one of the pages you had written that you didn't have much to say about him at all that you hardly knew him and barely saw him once a month and couldn't even call him your father.

Surely that couldn't be true right? He's not the best father figure by far but he always tried to make time for dick, Tim, Jason, Steph, Damian and Cass ... .surely he did for you.

He tries to find memories of him being a good father or at least trying to be any kind of father figure to you at all but he can't he can only see the times he rejected your pleas to spend time with you for things he deemed more important than you he sees it clearly each time he rejected you how you got sadder and sadder how you seemed to wilt at each and every rejection until you stopped asking.

he tries to tell himself that he did it for your protection that he just didn't want to get you involved in the crime fighting scene and since gothams streets were never without crime he spent an exorbitant amount of his time as Batman down in the batcave or out fighting crime with his other children and that's why he couldn't spend time with you. And that's why he seemingly had so many memories with them in the recent years; hell even in the recent weeks he has more memories with dick and the others than he ever had made with you. he tries to use it as an excuse to mask the truth; that you didn't matter in the grand scheme of his life, at least not then but he's going to do everything to make this right.

You'll be surprised to suddenly get a ton of texts from an unknown number even more so when you find out it's from bruce. Suddenly he's asking you how you've been, how was the move, are you in college right now, what major did you take? Obviously you're taken aback when the man who acted like you didn't exist suddenly wants to know everything about you. You would think he'd needed something but you know better than that what could he possibly need with you now? You don't have any money and he wouldn't need that anyways. Maybe he's dying and needs a kidney or something…whatever you don't care that man can rot.

You leave his messages on read of course, because you don't owe him a response and well maybe to be a bit petty and give him a taste of his own medicine. You don't know how bitter the taste is in Bruce's mouth, he knows you've seen them so why won't you respond? Bruce usually isn't a multi texter but he'll send more and more trying to get any kind of response out of you, he's constantly checking his phone hoping to see three little dots appear and he's noticeably slightly more angsty when out patrolling with the others.

The texts were annoying but you could mute his notifications and after the first few weeks you basically forgot about the texts going about your normal life until he started calling. It seemed like he was always calling Day in day out, you blocked his number because of how annoying it was but he always just gets a new one leaving the same text “ hey your name its dad” and then the calling would resume.

One day you pick up and Bruce sounds so relieved when he says your name into the receiver you figure he might really need that kidney if he sounds this excited to see you.

When you answer back he knows you aren't excited in fact you sound completely disinterested in him which takes him by surprise, isn't this what you wanted? What you cried for in your diary begging God that your father would notice you. You're older now so maybe you just aren't looking for that kind of attention anymore, the thought haunts him the idea that he could never truly make it up to you still he pushes through his voice sounding nervous as he starts to tentatively ask about your day. You cut him off with a scoff after some terse conversation telling him to just get to the point already and stop wasting your time.

The silence is deafening and you almost hang up before he croaks out a response “sorry name, I just wanted to know what you were up to I know we uh.. haven't talked in awhile I just wanted to hear from you and know that everything was alright” could this really be your father? He sounds so pathetic to you at that very moment, nothing like the confident man you saw on television often nor the man you saw taking care of everyone but you.

And no nothing was alright you were working a job you hated in some shitty little apartment in Gotham that you had to fear if it would get broken into or not because the damn landlord wouldn't change the faulty locks a rage takes you and you just let it all fall out cursing him for your shitty life and the shitty apartment and for being a shitty father letting all that rage out until you're left heaving. its silent after your outburst you think he might have hung up but after a moment he offers to pay for a new place and offers to pay your current rent until you can break the lease and that he will take care of you and not to worry about anything financial telling you to quit your job and to send him your bank so he can get things sorted out.

At first you wanted to vehemently deny this, wanting to prove to yourself that you didn't need him or his help but something In the back of your head tells you to accept it, that if he expects anything back for it then that's his fault for assuming. So you tell him and soon there's a large sum of money in your account more than you have ever had in there. For once you can actually afford to treat yourself instead of eating shitty microwaved ramen, and so you dine out in a nice reasonably expensive restaurant with your friends and you enjoy yourself.

A week passes in silence and then he's sending you pictures of luxury apartments telling you to pick out any one you want and that he'll get everything settled and you almost can't believe this. Would he actually pay for something so outrageously expensive? You almost doubt it but once your lease is up Bruce is at your door helping you move out any furniture you wanted to keep which was almost nothing seeing as everything was already worn out anyways.

You didn't say much to him and he seemed to realize you were in no talking mood so he allowed you to be quiet and told you about himself instead talking about the boys and what he'd been working on recently, it feels like what he should've been for you years ago an interaction you'd have killed for when you were fourteen and it just pisses you off so you turn on the radio instead to drown out his words. You don't care how he's doing, you don't want to hear about dick or damian, you're only accepting his help because you're tired of living in that shitty apartment. The ride is otherwise silent except for the annoyingly upbeat pop music which would probably make Damian or Jason have an aneurysm if they had to listen to it.

The goodbye is awkward. You can tell Bruce wants to come inside and talk more but you thank him for helping you move in the furniture and shut the door.

He buys you new furniture without you asking and sends it in by the second week you're in the apartment. You don't realize that he stalks your posts and that he saw one of you complaining about the lack of good furniture.

Life has never been better for you, you live in luxury and can go on shopping sprees literally whenever you want and Bruce sends you a random stream of cash whenever you start to get low and you're definitely not going to look a gift horse in the mouth not when you enjoy every luxury you are afforded.

Life is good until a certain black haired prick starts inserting himself into your life and this time it isn't bruce, nope it just had to be your annoyingly bubbly, touchy, and all too friendly ‘stepbrother’ dick grayson.

___

So yeah all in all Bruce has the capability to recognize your strained relationship is all his fault and that he never should have ignored you and how selfish he was to put his duties as Batman above his duties as a father to you. He realized he didn't even try to balance the two.

And Despite himself he ended up hurting you and neglecting you so he feels he owes it to you to make things right even if 'making things right' entails him buying you a luxury apartment or purchasing the latest phone or new car. The best part is that Bruce will not demand time from you (yet) because of his guilt. He simply suggests that maybe you should come out with him saying that he planned a whole day for the two of you but the ball is in your court since whether or not you ever accept his invites he will continue to be your cash cow to absolve himself of his guilt.

It's fun because now you get to watch him wilt everytime you reject his attempts at reconnecting, you get to have your petty revenge watching as a part of him dies inside each and every time you ignore the conversations he tries to start when pulling money out of the bank, you get to watch how he seems to lose all of his luster when you leave once the cash is in your hands without so much as a thanks. Bruce isn't stupid he knows this dynamic is unhealthy and recognizes it for what it is but this is the only way he can get you to talk to him or to even look in his direction. He has his limits though eventually you will talk to him whether you want to or not

#tw yandere #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere platonic bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne #dont like dont read #yandere dc

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happy74827 · 10 months ago

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Real Life Fairytale

[Robby Keene x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You tried so hard not to be that girl, but the more you were around him, the more you were convinced clichés could be a good thing.

WC: 712

Category: Fluff, First Kiss

Since Cobra Kai coming back later this month, here’s some fluff with the Marty Mcfly of karate.

『••✎••』

It was a typical cliché, and as much as you hated it, there was something that still pulled at you. Something that pulled you right into the arms of none other than Robby Keene.

Your relationship had been rocky at best; it had started out with him pickpocketing your purse and the two of you becoming friends because, at the time, you believed he was simply returning what you lost.

Of course, when your friendship officially became a friendship, he told you the truth and apologized. LaRusso had offered him a job, and everything he did suddenly became about changing his life and earning his place. He wanted to prove to his father that he was more than just some punk-ass kid from the wrong side of the tracks.

So, how did that bring you to where you are now? How did a guy like Robby Keene, dressed up in Marty McFly attire, become the center of your universe?

The Halloween Bash, of course.

Originally, the entire group of friends, the past feud between Robby and Miguel, had long been forgotten, so they decided to do one big group costume. Demetri thought it would be a good idea to go with the Power Rangers, which was fine, except for the fact that Eli was the only one who actually wanted to be a Ranger. Everyone else was either not impressed or completely clueless about who they were.

In the end, the group split off into their own individual costumes, and that's how you ended up with your favorite movie being used as the basis for your outfits.

It took a lot of convincing on your part. I mean, the dude looked practically identical to the real actor; he was the obvious choice. Throw a Walkman on him, and boom, the costume is perfect.

He blamed it on the hair, which it technically was. Ever since he ditched Dora's cut with Diego, he just became that geeky kid who freaked at the word 'chicken.'

And in all honesty, you truly believed he hated that word, too. Eli said it to bait him once, and he did not go down easily.

It only took you an hour to convince him, but after a while, he relented, and the costume was finalized.

So, obviously, when the two of you walked in with swag that only the 80s could pull off, you stayed for about an hour before Robby got bored and decided ice cream was the cure.

Now, the two of you were sitting on the steps of an apartment building, eating a gallon of ice cream and talking.

You swear, you didn't mean for it to happen, but the way he looked at you with those soft, blue eyes and the smile that could make a nun blush, you found yourself leaning closer.

"I had fun," he spoke quietly, his words dancing over your lips. "Even if I do look ridiculous."

You giggled. "Well, isn't that why we have Halloween? To look ridiculous?"

He shrugged and leaned closer, his eyes searching yours.

"You don't look ridiculous, though," you continued. "I think you look pretty good in a life preserver."

He grinned. "Yeah?"

It was something about the way he said that. The way you could hear the smile in his voice, but most of all, the way he looked at you when he said it. Like he was looking for permission to continue with what was already happening.

So, you answered by leaning in, connecting your lips with his, and giving him all the permission he needed.

His hands instantly flew to your hips, tugging you closer, and you found your own hands wrapping around his neck, deepening the kiss.

It was perfect, just like the movies. You regretted dressing up as Doc Brown, though. Not only was the radiation suit itchy, but you were acting like Jennifer Parker, and you didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Still, with the white hair off and his headphones finding their home around his neck, you figured maybe you'd force him to keep that part of the costume because, the way he was looking at you, you didn't want it to end.

You were sure it wouldn't, not any time soon.

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copper-16 · 3 months ago

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Remind Me That There’s A Room To Grow Part 3

Broken, rueful, and mended as it should have been.

(a/n: Part 3, here we come! Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting on these, I'm so grateful! Reminder for anyone who likes a musical touch that you can find the Spotify playlist here, if you would like. Please enjoy this part, and I would love to hear your feedback about the note at the end!)

Alexia sat on that damn park bench for God knows how long.

She didn’t care if she got no sleep or looked absolutely insane sitting there for hours on end. The things you had told her rattled around in her brain disconcertedly, unending every single thought that attempted to interrupt. The brunette had gone from feeling like she was the most stable and vindicated person on the planet to a feeling as though she were a shell of herself.

This whole time, there had been so much more to the story than she ever could have imagined. And though she knew it really wasn’t their fault, resentment flared within her at how quick Eli and Alba were to blame you for everything.

Everything in Alexia felt anguished. Just thinking about looking at your face made the Catalan feel nauseous, stuck on how distraught you had been. It wasn’t as though she could blame you either, not when she had been so irate.

She had allowed herself to be influenced by every single person around her instead of trusting you, as she always had. She should have trusted herself, should have trusted the fact that she knew something was wrong. The last nine years had been spent giving you the benefit of the doubt, but when it came to it, she had treated you with such animosity.

Never in a million years had she expected the reasoning behind all of this.

Cancer. It seemed impossible for someone who was only eighteen years old, but it wasn’t as though stranger things hadn’t occurred. Now all Alexia managed to think of was how scared and alone you must have felt. She had lost you, but she did so when she was chasing her dreams. You had to watch her leave you behind because of a situation entirely out of your hands.

All this time where she had felt abandoned, and in reality it was the other way around.

What an absolutely fucked up situation.

When the footballer finally stood, a chill wrapped around her and caused her to shiver violently. She didn’t remember it getting cold, but it wasn’t as though she cared about the temperature when her mind was a ruction of emotions.

She booked it back to her car, driving herself toward her Mami’s house in what would have been considered a fury. The brunette knew that her sister was there as well, so she could kill two birds with one stone.

When she arrived, the brunette barged through the door with no care at all for the hinges, her inner turmoil gathering and growing with each and every step she took. She found her family in the kitchen, enjoying some dessert with a glass of wine in each of their hands.

“You were wrong,” Alexia seethed, almost heady with the amount of wrath she felt within her. Eli and Alba both turned to her in an instant, instantly confused at the animosity in her tone. It was so rare to hear the brunette truly upset in the way she was right now, and they glanced at each other for a second before they turned to Alexia fully.

“What happened?” Alba asked, very confused as to what her sister was talking about. They had no idea that the pair of you had talked, but Alexia didn’t care to give them context.

“You both blamed her for leaving me behind, you made her out to be the villain and she never was! This was all of your fault, how could you do this to me? How could you twist my mind in such a way?” Alexia snapped, her whole body tense with rage.

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?” Alba demanded, understanding dawning on the subject her sister spoke about but still confused as to the circumstances.

“She was fucking sick, you two. She let me go alone because she had cancer, and she didn’t want me to have to live through it when I was moving away. She broke up with me so I could go chase my dreams and build my career without being bogged down. She gave up her own happiness so that I could have my own,” the brunette spat, her face red with exertion. Whether it was to keep her anger inwards or to stop the tears that burned in the back of her eyes, the Catalan was unsure.

“She did it to protect me, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt for her decision for a decade before you two got so defensive and twisted my mind. She was never the selfish person you made her out to be, she was always the most selfless, empathetic, compassionate of all of us!” Alexia argued, and she seemed only to be growing more and more in her anger.

“Alexia–” Eli tried to interrupt, but she was quickly cut off.

“No! I don’t even want to hear you two attempt to explain yourselves. I don’t want to hear it. I loved her, I love her now, and I’ve fucked it all up with your words in my mouth! She left the conversation in tears, she told me to leave her alone. If you two hadn’t been so horrible about the whole thing, I never would have been so skeptical in the first place!” Alexia was ready to burst at the seams, and she couldn’t handle it.

“Now Ale, we only did that because we wanted to protect y–” Alba attempted to interject, failing just as her mother had.

“I don’t even want to hear it! I am so angry at the two of you, especially considering that you hardly let me get a word in edgewise about her character. She grew up with us, she loves us, and she trusted you with her heart just as much as you trusted her with mine. So don’t sit there and say anything, but maybe think about your own actions!” Alexia finally demanded, her words fervent in manner.

When her mother and sister said nothing but looked at her in shock, the brunette shook her head and chuckled austerely, not a trace of humor in her tone.

“God, and now you don’t even have anything to say for yourselves,” she looked around at her mother’s kitchen as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. The midfielder was aware she was only redirecting her anger onto two people whose blame was minimal, but the affliction in her heart needed somewhere to go.

“I have to go, I will talk to you two later,” Alexia said after a second, defeat heavy in her expression as the anger began to drain out of her. It was replaced by an excruciating misery that weighed on her shoulders exactingly, as though it knew that she was really the one to blame in all of this.

She felt as though she had lead in her shoes as she walked out to her car. The drive back to her apartment was done in complete silence, the Catalan unable to deal with anything other than the chaos in her mind.

She barely made it one step in the door before the first sob bubbled up her throat. She finally allowed herself to succumb to it, sobbing so hard that her ribs ached and her eyes swelled, and she had nobody to blame for everything except for herself.

—

Every single person on the team could immediately tell something was wrong with Alexia when she showed up at training the next day.

Alexia had always been the most dedicated of them all, relentless in her pursuit to be better. She was endlessly pushing herself and those around her to be their best selves, and it paid off. The team worked hard, and they looked better than ever. The Catalan had helped to lift them from relative obscurity into a team that people feared to play, and as much as Vicky was their fearless leader, every single player would tell you that the Catalan was their beating heart.

But today? Well, today the brunette looked about two steps away from death as she walked into the changing room.

Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Her hair was mildly unkempt, her skin sullen, the bags under her eyes endlessly listless. She kept her head down, and changed as though she wished she could curl up into a ball and never be seen again. The midfielder was usually a quiet person, but today she seemed…unobservant.

Somehow, that made all of it seem worse.

Jenni and Mariona were instantly alarmed because they knew what had happened, while the other girls were both confused and in a state of shock. Nobody had ever seen Alexia this clearly upset, considering the fact that she typically kept things close to her chest.

To be this outwardly downtrodden was incomprehensible, to the point where the rest of the team wasn’t sure how to act toward her. They all seemed to avoid her as though she was radioactive, and she made no attempt to engage with any of them.

Jenni, Mariona, and Vicky, however, had no problem marching over to the Catalan as they created a concerned cocoon around her.

“What happened Alexia?” Vicky questioned gently, only to receive nothing short of the death glare back from Jenni and Mariona in response.

“How did it go?” Mariona amended quietly, hopeful that they might have been able to draw out some sort of reaction from the midfielder. It was clear the conversation had not gone well, but they did not know why.

And sure enough, Alexia’s entire face flashed into something nearly venomous, and she shook her head with what looked to be a clearly concerted effort to remain in control.

“Nothing. I would appreciate it if everyone left me alone and we could conduct training as normal, like we are supposed to be doing,” she managed to grit out pointedly, her voice bolstered with hostility and malice. The three women looked around at each other, none of them in the least bit convinced, but the mutually agreed upon decision seemed to be that they clearly weren’t going to get anything out of the brunette right now.

The midfielder was a monster at training that day, and not in a good way.

Every single ball was launched with a lethal ferocity. Every single pass was too hard, every single first touch sloppy and heavy.

None of the movements were reminiscent of the Alexia that everyone had come to know. It wasn’t great football, it wasn’t even good football. The midfielder was clearly angry at something, and the longer practice went on, the worse it got. The Catalan was frustrated with herself, bitter and enraged at how she seemed unable to play with any ounce of grace.

It felt ironically similar to how she seemed unable to converse with you without accusation, a thought she was ruefully reminded of.

It was when she sent a ball flying angled toward Caro’s head that Vicky and Marta finally pulled the midfielder aside brashly. The captain of the team had taken one look at their manager, whose expression agreed with her own, to know what needed to be done.

“You’re done for the day,” Vicky stated without an ounce of discussion left in the conversation. Alexia certainly wasn’t in the mood to be ordered around as she decisively brushed them off.

“I’m fine, we still have another half hou–” The brunette was cut off without even managing to finish her sentence.

“No. You are done, you’re going to go back to the changing room and take a long shower. You’re going to get dressed and go home and process whatever you’re trying to avoid right now by almost murdering your teammates,” the Barcelona captain dictated with even greater finality, her eyebrow raised as though she dared the younger woman to argue with her.

Alexia looked posed to respond, but when she caught Marta looking back at the Norwegian with worried eyes, she felt the fight drain out of her. The older Spaniard had always had a sweet spot for the nervous Wolfsburg transfer, and seeing it right in front of her eyes made her deflate like a balloon.

She knew that look.

She had lived that look before, when she hadn’t fucked all of this up seven ways to Sunday.

With a reluctant, apologetic glance at Marta, the midfielder nodded her head. She turned on her heels, much to the surprise of her co-captains, who were honestly expecting more of a pushback.

As they watched the midfielder walk off the pitch, they stared at the way her body seemed to curl in on herself, almost as though the brunette couldn’t bear to stand up straight as she stared down at her feet.

“What the hell happened?” Marta asked Vicky as she looked over at her captain. But the Barcelona captain was unable to tear her eyes away from Alexia’s retreating form until it disappeared into the building. It was only then that she looked over at Jenni, who hovered a short distance away from them with a look of unease on her face.

Vicky shook her head before she turned back to the pitch.

“I honestly have no idea,” she replied curtly as she made direct eye contact with Jenni, who seemed to understand the silent request of her captain as she turned back toward practice.

When the team filed in after training was done, Alexia and all of her stuff were gone, nowhere to be seen.

—

Nine years.

You had lived with the grief of losing her for nine years. You would never change your mind on the decision, but God did it feel as though you were sucking the blood out of your body. Even all of these years later, it still stung to think about how much you had lost in that moment.

Alexia took every ounce of happiness and peace with her when she left. While you still had other friends, you were by no means alone, it was never the same without her there. You hardly had to speak a single word for the brunette to understand where your mind was at. There was a closeness to the two of you that was impossible to replace. It hadn’t been the same after she had left, no longer having a confidant who held space for you.

Your father, while a lovely man, was never terribly involved in your life. He loved you, but having children was never his dream, and with how much he worked, you rarely saw him. It was a loss that you didn’t feel rather acutely, especially not when Jaume had swept you into his orbit through your friendship with Alexia. He had loved you like a daughter, and you cherished him for it in a way you had never managed with your own father.

Your two younger brothers, Leo and Adan, had struggled when you had gotten sick. They always looked up to you as their protector and ring leader. Seeing you unable to help, organize, and work as you usually did was strange for them, especially considering the fact that they were only fifteen and fourteen at the time. And while you spent much of your childhood watching over them with a loving gaze, it was your mother who stepped up to take care of them more.

Your mother Paula was a lovely, exuberant woman, if not a touch frazzled. She was a better entertainer than she was a mother, but there was no question she loved the three of you. The two of you had been a team in helping to raise the boys, because while your mother had wisdom you were steadfast in your ability to calm. You had been a significant help in raising the two boys, and your mother had come to rely on you as a result. It had all gotten thrown out of place when you had gotten sick. Your mother tried to pick up the slack, bless her, but she struggled. She did as best as she could until you were declared cancer free, and able to help pick up some of the slack that had been created. It helped that your brothers were compassionate and kind, never one to try and cause too much trouble.

Your mother passed away just a few years ago because of a brain aneurysm, much to the devastation of your father. While you missed her terribly, you never needed her for stability and strength. That was found on your own.

Chemo treatments were mostly done on your own, a book and a sick bag in hand. It was a tough three months, but you made it through with as big of a smile as you could muster. A friend would accompany you occasionally, but they never quite knew what to do when they were there with you. Not that you faulted them for it, but it only made you more exhausted having to entertain on top of feeling ill.

After a grueling few months, the tumor had shrunk enough to be surgically removed, and a few rounds of radiation killed off the last of it. It had been less than a year to get rid of everything, though in your mind it had felt much longer.

Overall, the treatment had gone well from a medical perspective. You had responded well and were declared to be in remission swiftly. You were young and otherwise healthy, making you the perfect candidate to respond to treatment.

That didn’t seem to account for the ache that persisted deep in your chest, but it wasn’t as a result of your sickness. The sense of loss that pervaded your mind for years afterward was impossible to banish. You had not made a mistake, and yet your mind and body betrayed you with a wanton amount of unearned yearning.

There was a restlessness that existed within you, a restlessness that needed to be solved and yet had nowhere to go.

You had begun university toward the end of your treatments and sped through a track in finance, turning heads each and every way you went. There was always a level of intelligence to you that you were aware of, but investment analysis and management came naturally to you it seemed.

Though you had the opportunity to go earlier, you waited dutifully for your brothers to finish school and go off to university before you left your hometown. Leo ended up in Valencia for school, and a year later Adan made the decision to stay in Madrid for his degree.

Once you were certain your brothers were settled, you began to dig for opportunities in your own career. The work you had put in paid off, and you had offers not only in Spain but France, Italy, the United States as well.

You didn’t care about any of that, though. You took the one job that put you directly in Barcelona and decided to figure it out from there.

There was a safety and security to being in the same city as Alexia, even if she had no clue you were there. You were thankful for the move, honestly, thankful for the opportunity to meet new friends and build your own life. The sun forever shined and the city was exciting and vibrant, devoid of the reminders that face you everywhere in Madrid.

Both of your brothers ended up staying in or returning to Madrid, living near your mother until her death and trying to stay vaguely connected to your father. He had struggled immensely in the wake of her passing, but both Leo and Adan never seemed to mind stepping in to keep him on the right path.

By all logical standards, you had a wonderful life. An amazing group of friends, a job you really enjoyed, hobbies you found interesting. It felt like the whole package of what someone would want in their life.

But you found in the morning after your talk with Alexia, there was nothing you wanted to do with this life. You simply wanted to be left alone to rot, and you found that you didn’t care who disagreed. The longing in your heart threatened to swallow you whole, your hatred for your decisions every single day of the last nine years.

You had finally been honest with Alexia, you had told her the truth…but was it worth it?

Based on the feeling inside of you right now, it wasn’t worth it.

You would have taken anger over devastation on her face any day.

You loved her too much to care about your own peace of mind.

And yet…

—

Alexia nearly jumped out of her skin when she unlocked the door of her apartment, only to find that Jenni was sitting on her couch with a glass of lemonade and a raised brow. The midfielder did a complete double take, confounded when she reminded herself that the door had in fact been locked before she came in here.

“How the hell did you get in here?” The Catalan asked with confusion as her heart rate struggled to return to an acceptable level. She looked around her apartment with a perplexed glint to her expression, as though she expected to find the answer laying in front of her in the form of a crowbar or something.

“Oh please, we’ve been friends for many years. We are both allowed to have our little secrets, no?” Jenni diverted, and Alexia shook her head instantly, looking toward the striker with a lost expression.

“What – no?! That doesn’t mean you get to break into my apartment! How did you even get in her–”

“This is not the point of this conversation, Alexia,” Jenni cut her friend off easily, ignoring how bewildered the brunette was as a result of her surprise appearance. The striker settled, a concerned look flashing across her features. “You fucked up that conversation, didn’t you?”

“You’re not allowed to just barge in here whenever you want!” Alexia spat, a sudden rush of anger coursing through her at Jenni’s words. Defensiveness coursed through her veins with a fury, and nobody had managed to pin her down for long enough to have a real conversation with her.

Until now, apparently.

When the raven-haired woman leveled her with a disbelieving stare, the Catalan’s shoulders collapsed just slightly. When Jenni wanted something, she was like a dog with a bone. She would stop at absolutely nothing to get it, and the midfielder knew there was no way of getting out of this conversation with anger or deflections. She sighed forcefully, settling her keys down on her kitchen counter and pressing her head into her hands.

“I did,” she conceded after a moment, her voice shaky and impossibly quiet. When she finally looked up, the torment inside her entire body seemed to reflect in her expression. Jenni felt horrible, seeing how torn up her friend was.

“I fucked everything up Jenni, everything. I came into it with so much aggression and fear, and made all these accusations I don’t even really think I meant,” she admitted with a humorless chuckle, an echo of agony in her words.

Silence cascaded around them, the air thick with regret and despondency.

“She was sick,” Alexia revealed after a moment. She glanced up at Jenni, struggling to control herself. “She was sick, and so she broke things off because she couldn’t leave, but she wanted me to. She saved my career, made a sacrifice for my own happiness, and in return I screamed horrible things at her. What kind of person does that make me?” Alexia pleaded, her voice cracking over the last sentence.

Jenni thought about the question for a moment before she shook her head and looked back at Alexia. There was a compassion in her expression, and the Catalan forced herself to look away in the face of it. She didn’t deserve it.

“It makes you human, Alexia,” the raven-haired woman countered, her words soft and sympathetic, almost saccharine in their amount of sweetness.

“No it doesn’t,” Alexia grumbled under her breath, but Jenni was quick to continue.

“Yes it does. You did not have all the information at the time. And okay, you said some things you regret? Go apologize for them then! You made a mistake, and you feel remorse, Alexia. That in and of itself means that there is love and compassion in your heart.”

“And if she doesn’t accept that apology?” Alexia shot back, fighting to be kind as she was gripped with fear. She looked over at Jenni with a flame in her eyes, anything to hide how upset she truly was. It was easier to mask it than it was to face it, after all.

“Then she doesn’t accept the apology, and life moves on. But you won’t know if you don’t even bother to try,” Jenni offered as she walked over and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder comfortingly.

“Forgive yourself enough to give her the opportunity to forgive you. If she was in your spot, you would do the same. If she cares as much about you as you say she does, I think you have a fighting chance,” the striker suggested, her voice gentle. The brunette remained deep in thought, thinking hard about Jenni’s words. The raven-haired woman let herself out before Alexia could even formulate a response.

And while there were a lot of thoughts swirling around in Alexia’s mind, perhaps the top of the list was that she really, really needed to get a locksmith to her apartment.

—

It was a thought that often consumed the brunette as her career began to take off. It had been a question, something that weighed on her mind in the dark of night when she lay alone.

Was it worth it?

The duty to herself, to her career pulled at her endlessly. Everyone around her was dedicated to their career, putting it above their family at nearly all cost. And she understood, she wanted to be the best. The pull to change the sport, to leave a legacy behind that made women’s football better than where she had started.

But what was the cost?

How many family dinners had she missed? How many birthdays? How many celebrations?

How many moments had she missed, even just the mundane, small things in life. How many inside jokes and how much late night laughter had evaded her because of this choice?

And she knew that her family loved her, and that they understood how important her career was to her. But it never took away from the fact that she was gone often. That unlike her teammates and peers, she spent the least amount of time with her family as the years had passed. Whereas many of her friends grew more committed to their families, getting married and even having children, football had become her sole focus in life.

Other than you, she had never been in a committed relationship with anyone. Her friendships were from football, everything in her life had revolved around football. Protecting her image, embracing the game, doing whatever she could to advance the team and herself to perfection.

It wasn’t until you had stumbled back into her life that suddenly she remembered what it had been like to live a life. And sure, she knew that her career was different now, much more intense. But the Catalan also knew that you never would have allowed her to become so overwhelmingly immersed into her career.

It was less the time commitment and more the mindset she approached her career with that had changed in your absence. Alexia had always assumed that in order to be the best, she had to be so devoted to football in every aspect of her entire life. That there was no room outside of it for distractions.

Her friends hadn’t become worse because they had loved ones, because they took a step back. They were still dedicated, but also well rested and prepared.

The two of you had been together for so many years, and then football had been the thing to divide you. It was Alexia’s career that had been prioritized above you, a decision that you had made and believed in.

Had you really ever thought you were more important than football?

Had she done that? Had she felt that you were more important than football?

All she could think of was how you were sick and alone, a burden to bear alone when you should have been loved and supported.

Alexia was not angry that you hadn’t told her, not by a long shot. But she was furious with the circumstances, with her own choices, with everything else in the situation besides you.

You had meant so much to her, and she had let you go without any recourse. She never even considered that there was so much depth to the decision you had made.

And now here she stood, trying to pick up the pieces of something that had gone from broken to shattered entirely.

Alexia knew that she loved you.

That she still loves you, even after all this time. There were parts of a person that never changed, and she saw it in your expression.

Even after all this time.

Her career came first in every aspect of her life, but maybe just this once it didn’t have to. Maybe some personal happiness was deserved, maybe it could be her choice to try and fix this.

Maybe she deserved a break, or some peace, or to undo all of the mistakes she had made in the last decade. Maybe the choice she made here would make her better, and not worse.

The brunette had no idea if you still loved her anymore, not after the appalling things she had said, but she couldn’t let it go without at least trying to get you back.

She had lost you once, and she wasn’t prepared to let it happen again without a fight.

—

Alexia can’t bring herself to pick up the phone and dial, so she took the coward's way out and texted you to ask for your address.

Much to her surprise, you answered her. It’s nothing more than the address rattled off, but it’s there. The brunette felt her heart constrict for a moment at the thought that it wasn’t really your address, that you had sent her a fake location.

But at the same time, even if that were the case, a part of her would understand. For all the years that she had been hurt and alone and yearning desperately for you, it had been the same for you.

The choice you had made was impossible, indescribable even, and Alexia knows in her heart that her career wouldn’t be where it was without your sacrifice. You had sacrificed your own dream so that she could live hers, and when it all came back to the two of you all these years later, she had completely desecrated that sacrifice without a second thought.

She continued to be appalled with herself over that entire conversation. It was all she saw every time she closed her eyes, the words she had said rattling around in her brain all night long.

The look on your face as she dug herself into a deeper hole, filled with disregard for how much care you had tried to give the situation. It was never going to be perfect, but you had tried to be perfect. And in that moment, she had acted as though it wasn’t enough.

It was.

You had always been more than enough for her, regardless of whether you two were together or not.

Every single time she had laid in bed since, memories both good and bad of the two of you had pooled in her eyes, rolling down her cheek and escaping onto the pillow beneath her.

She had lost her curiosity inside the ferocity of her own judgement, and she regretted it with every molecule inside of her. She regretted it so much that it made her feel physically ill, to the point where she no longer cared about being appropriate or saving face.

It was late in the evening when she drove over to your apartment. She had a plan to go on Sunday morning, but it was Friday night and her self restraint had ground away until it no longer existed.

The Catalan took the steps two at a time up to the third floor, knowing that each moment likely brought her closer to you. She hoped it did, at least. It was highly possible that you were out with friends or doing something fun, as you should be.

But still hope gripped her with a strength she was unaware she ever had. Loving you was never the detractor she had spent the last decade convincing herself it was, but was where she got her strength.

Loving you had breathed life into her and she was silly to have ever thought differently.

She knocked on the door to your apartment before she could stop herself from overthinking every single one of her life choices. Her knuckles struck against the wooden door exactly three times, each one more forceful than the lost.

The brunette waited with everything in her for the sound of anything in the wake of knocking. Any movement, any sign of life, anything. The seconds felt like hours and years as her heart rammed its way into her throat.

And then she heard it, the softness of your voice as you called out that you were coming.

Alexia was known for being a stoic person, never one to overly show emotion. She kept everything close to her chest, and rarely did she express how she was feeling. It took hours of knowing her, and even then she was still hesitant to show weakness.

But the tears were pooling in her eyes even before you opened the door.

And there you were.

Standing in your pajamas, a book in your hand and an expression of mild surprise at the sight of Alexia nearly in tears at your door. It certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, though you knew the footballer had your address.

“Ale?” You questioned softly, your voice barely there. The brunette swallowed thickly, trying and failing to conjure an apologetic smile.

“I am sorry…I meant to come later but I couldn’t…wait,” she finished lamely, rather breathless as she fought to keep the pressure in her throat from turning into full blown sobs. You stared at her for a second, at how tense she was, at the anxiety written across her face. After you had tucked some of the hair away from your face, you stepped back into your apartment and widened the opening of the door.

“Would you like to come in?” You proposed, and the footballer took your offer up with a shaky nod of her head.

The brunette trailed after you further into the apartment. It was a large apartment, but it felt cozy and lived in. Half-burned candles and ear-marked books were strewn around the space, and a throw blanket could be found on every surface.

She remembered that you had always run cold. When the two of you were young and in love, she would whisper to you about the warmth Barcelona would offer, even as she provided you plenty of her own body heat as she laid curled around you.

“Alexia?” You probed lightly, and she shook her head as she glanced up, realizing that she had let her mind wander. Concern and compassion stared right back at her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she replied harshly, trying and failing to be discreet as she wiped at her eyes.

“You don’t have to be,” you said delicately, gesturing toward the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?”

You couldn’t help but realize that right now with just one look at Alexia, you already forgave her. Every line etched into her skin was written with devastation and contrition. Somewhere deep within you knew how she felt, and knew that she did not mean the things she had said.

There was so much information to process, so much confusion and chaos, that you had both lost yourselves.

Maybe there was an opportunity to be found again.

You weren’t going to let the weakness of one moment detract from the opportunity that lay in front of you.

You led her over to the couch, and the pair of you settled down across from one another. You sat with your back against one arm of the couch, while Alexia was across from you, her hands on her knees. Her knuckles were nearly white, and you wished in that moment to reach out and soothe the ache in her heart, even if you knew that you couldn’t. When the midfielder turned toward you, all you found facing you was suppliance.

“I cannot explain to you how sorry I am,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I had no idea the sacrifice you had made for me, I had no idea that there was so much more behind all of this. I was foolish to believe that you broke up with me over something selfish or petty.”

She seemed to bite her words back, as though her self-loathing was simply too great of a burden to contain for a moment. When she settled, the Catalan continued.

“I never should have spoken to you that way. The truth is that I’ve spent the last nine years missing you, thinking about you, unable to get myself over the years we spent together. It feels as though you’ve been out of my life as long as you were in it, and I hate that. I hate that I haven’t been able to grow with you. I hate that when I lay awake at night I miss you with an ache I cannot even begin to describe to you. I hate that I wasn’t able to be there for you when you needed me. I hate that your sacrifice probably saved my career, even though I wish with everything in me that I was there for you when you needed me,” Alexia finally admitted, deciding to be nothing but brutally honest.

“And I won’t lie to you and say there haven’t been other women in the years without you, but God it never compared to you. I didn’t give a shit about any of them, and I never really expected to. You’re intertwined within my soul in a way I don’t even fully understand, and living without you feels like walking around missing a limb. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over you, and I tried to force football down my throat because if it was the reason I lost you, it had to be worth it.”

“I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way you roll your eyes at me when I do something ridiculous, or how patient you are with me when I get frustrated. I still find myself looking for you in every crowd, at every family gathering, everywhere. When I finally did see you again, it felt like a fever dream. The one thing I’ve wanted for the last nine years was granted to me, and there you were.”

“You were standing there so perfectly and in one piece, and inexplicably, you seem to care about me still. I never could have imagined that happening, even if I dreamt about it every single night of my life that you haven’t been in,” Alexia continued, allowing herself to take a deep breath and center herself. Frustration passed over her face for a moment, entirely

“I fucked this up royally, I know. I let the fear in my heart and the fear that those around me held get in the way of seeing the truth, and I need you to know how sorry I am. I never should have treated you that way. I never should have acted toward you with such hostility. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that everything I said, I don’t believe. You are brave and wonderful and empathetic, and so, so, extraordinary. Please do not let anyone else ever say that you are not,” Alexia urged, looking at you with such clear intent you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“I still love you, Flori. I think that I always will. My heart knows what it means to love and be loved by you, and nothing will ever compare to that feeling. My heart was always yours to break, and I don’t care if you do it once or twice or a million times. All I know is that even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know that I love you,” Alexia said with finality, barely able to see against the blur of tears that swarmed in her eyes.

You stood up from your end of the couch slowly while her eyes tracked every single one of your movements. You walked closer to her, settling down next to her as closely as you could while you reached over to place your shaking hands against the frame of her face.

“You big, blithering idiot, of course I still love you,” you whispered fiercely, your face scrunched up somewhere between disbelief and teasing. Alexia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was even holding, the entire upper half of her body collapsing into you.

It was easy for you to catch the brunette, cradling her against you as she sobbed without restraint against you. It was easy to rock her back and forth softly, while you whispered sweet nothings into her ears. And it was just as easy to pull her away from you and utter the words she never thought she would hear.

“I forgive you, and of course I still love you Ale. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and you still are. I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere, if you’ll have me. We might have lost our chance when we were young, but maybe we can have another one?” You proposed hopefully, almost with disbelief. Neither of you ever expected for this to be anywhere near possible, but here you both were.

The Catalan’s expression broke entirely, silent tears rolling down her cheeks in defiance as she placed a hand on your arm and held it tightly.

“I’m here,” was all she could manage, but it was enough.

You leaned into her slowly as you glanced down at her lips, giving her time to pull away. It was a concern you needn't be worried about when she met you halfway, the feeling one of muscle memory even after all this time. You could taste the salt from her tears and yours as you kissed her.

“Please stay,” you murmured through the ball in your throat as you pulled away just a touch, and Alexia gripped you impossibly tighter as she pulled you into a hug.

For the first time in nine years, you fell asleep that night with the footballer’s body curled around your own, the feel of her chest breathing steadily against your back as she held you in her arms with content.

It was the first time in a long while that you had felt warm enough when going to sleep, and hope ballooned inside you fervently.

#alexia putellas x reader #Alexia Putellas #barcelona femeni #jenni hermoso #mariona caldentey #woso x reader #Woso

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floraisunwell · 4 months ago

Text

Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (

category: angst

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

#mwah #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #some angsty angst for ya #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #post prison reid #your honor they are in love

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melliemell · 5 months ago

Note

OKAY HEAR ME OUT.. POCKY GAME WITH THE BSD CAST (preferably Ranpo and Dazai, feel free to add whoever u want!!) MAKE IT ROMANTIC TOO PLZ I CANT GET THIS IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD🙏🙏🙏

LOTS OF LOVE - an anon who lost their glasses

👀👀this... this was too fun to write ohmygod you have no idea

Now you've managed to get me stuck on thoughts of silly little moments with those losers too aaAAAAAA I gotchu nonnie, you ask and I deliver😌

BSD Cast ft. Pocky Game

(Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Chuuya; high-key suggestive, blame them not me)

Dazai

“It’s a very delicate procedure.”

“Mmm, big boy business, I see.”

“Shush. Good students listen to their sensei first and give smartass remarks later. Now…”

It would be Dazai’s idea, not surprising in the slightest. The thing is, he’d be very convincing about this, all sweet smiles and an offhand remark how cute it’d be ‘cause couples are supposed to do sappy things, duh. An innocent enough suggestion, one you found amusing but nothing to bat an eye about.

Until you add Dazai’s complete disregard for social norms and he’d be pulling those things out in the most embarrassing, inconvenient places he could think of. Mostly to annoy you, secondly to see how red in the face you’d get if he put you in a compromising situation. And oh boy do those happen often.

One moment you’d be in the middle of discussing important work matters with Atsushi, the next Dazai’s sliding up in your personal space, pocky already hanging at his lips. Worst is he’d act as though this is your average activity, batting his lashes all sweetly at you as he waited. If you snap the pocky with your hand instead he’d react as though it was his heart you just crushed, you cruel beauty of his.

It’s all fine though, things considered. So long as he does get his kiss in the end. Behind some privacy this time.

Ranpo

No. Do not engage with this man in a pocky game, he will be an absolute menace about it.

Unlikely to suggest it himself as it means he’d have to share his snacks with you. Could be convinced if informed of the chance of getting free smooches though. But he’d whine about it, probably already munching on the pack you bought as you were explaining the rules to him.

In the case of you managing to save some for the actual thing…

“Yeah, yeah, can you get on with it? I wanna play already.”

Ranpo does not, in fact, play. The moment you get in place, both of you biting onto your respective side, Ranpo all but throws away any and all rule-information you gave. Who needs those? Only losers, that’s who.

He’s already bitten off almost the entirety of the pocky, lips finding yours a second later as he pulls you in, hands smashing up your cheeks on both sides. You can practinally hear him munching on the chocolate which makes this all the more hilarious. Talk about mixed priorities.

Second try goes just as the first one; any illusions of a game forgotten as you were pretty sure Ranpo’s impatience wasn’t quite something you were equipt for…

The third and final chance (last pocky, unfortunately he ate the rest) wasn’t really a chance, honestly. Not when you could just push him back on the couch and kiss him stupid as you climbed atop.

He might get the remaining pocky later. Maybe.

Fyodor

“How charming.”

Would be amused by the whole thing. Unexpectedly easy to convince, and it gets even weirder as he calmly complies with the rules, nodding patiently. Before you know it you’re staring down at each other, one pocky distance between you two.

Not the type to rush into things, letting you get closer to him instead. Expect a lot of raised eyebrows and chaste kisses as you go through the whole pack. Did you think this was a one go thing? Silly you. A happy, satisfied partner is a compliant one, after all. Little things like this cost him nothing, but could bring a smile on your face. Why would he waste an opportunity like that?

Unlikely to push things further… but just as unlikely to stop you from leaving a few more kisses on him. One or two at the edge of his lips. One accidentally finding its way on his jaw. A trail of feathery brushes down his throat and soon he’d be getting the memo pretty well.

You can’t help it. There’s something about Fyodor’s damned calmness that always leads to this. Maybe it’s the presence of character; something solid and secure before you that always manages to crawl under your skin. You’d be pulling at his shirt and trousers before you know it, pocky game entirely forgotten.

Chuuya

This one’s a trickie.

Chuuya’d be split between wanting to give in to your sillies, but also… why? Why this? Why not go to that nice and fancy restaurant he talked to you about? The one with the molten chocolate cakes; he’d treat you to all the sweets in the world if you’d ask him.

Embarrassed at first, and trying his best to sneakily pull himself out of the situation. Until you finally manage to corner him, pocky box in hand and a roguish glint in your eyes.

Maybe it was his dignity, or maybe he was playing too much into the tough guy persona. But the moment you sat him down, a winner’s determination written all over your face– oh, no. Hell no, this was on.

Forget about any cute couple moments. Oh nono, it was all narrowed eyes and prolonged stares of intense analysis, each trying to predict the others’ move. One wrong decision, just the slightest distraction and–

Before Chuuya had you round the waist, rolling you suddenly on the bed as a panicked yelp flew from your lips. The absolute ass. And he’d be laughing about it too, looking down at your sprawled form with the goofiest smile, trying to bite into his lower lip to stifle yet another fit.

“You all good, sweets? Guess ya lost this round.”

And you’d pull him down, your breath ghosting over his widening grin.

“We’ll see about that.”

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wonderjanga · 6 months ago

Text

Sharing Can in Fact Lead to Caring

Sometimes Billy doesn’t need Solomon. Sometimes, Billy just says whatever that comes off the top of his head, it can be surprisingly helpful at times. (Billy doesn’t realize most of them are just coming to their dad figure for advice)

Such as the time Wonder Woman came to him concerned about time dilation. When Solomon explained what that meant, he had a pretty good idea of what she was talking about. Basically, she was worried about the afterword of the Justice League and her friends and how she would outlive them all. He brought her ice cream and they talked it out. In a way, he supposed he understood her. Billy couldn’t remember his mom or dad’s faces or personalities. He only had Captain Marvel to go off of and he guesses Mary, but she looks more like a young version of their mom. In the end, after much talking and trying to show he understands her worries, she seemed to be doing better.

Then, there was a talk with J’onn. The Martian had confided in not feeling at home with the humans. Not that he blamed him. J’onn had lost his home. So, Billy talked with him. Again, sort of relating. The way the Martian described missing his planet, reminded Billy of how he’d missed his parents. By the end of the talk, the Martian seemed to feel a little lighter after it.

Then, there was this kid.

Little Girl: *sitting on a bench alone*

Marvel: “Hey there, miss. Where are your parents?”

Little Girl: *stares* “There not here.”

Marvel: “Why’s that?” *sits down next to her*

Little Girl: *shrugs*

Marvel: “Well, then do you have any guardians?”

Little Girl: “I think so, but I don’t really like her. She’s mean. I don’t think she likes me or my foster siblings.”

Marvel: “Oh? You’re from foster care?”

Little Girl: *hesitantly nods head*

Marvel: “And I’m guessing you ran away?”

Little Girl: *nods again* “Are you going to tell on me?”

Marvel: “No. I ran away from my foster homes all the time.” *shrugs, doesn’t know why he’s saying this but might as well go with it*

Little Girl: “You did?”

Marvel: “Yeah. They were all terrible. And the ones that weren’t terrible were just neglectful.”

Little Girl: “What does neglectful mean?”

Marvel: “It means not paying attention to something. Like for example, I had this foster parent who would go days without coming home, leaving me and the other kids to have to feed ourselves. She wasn’t paying attention to us or our needs.”

Little Girl: “That’s sad.”

Marvel: “Yeah, it is. So, why did you run away from your foster home?”

Little Girl: “The lady who adopted me throws stuff when she gets mad. She’s mad a lot.”

Marvel: “That sucks. I had a foster home like that too. He would throw a bottles, forks, books, whatever he could get his hands on.”

Little Girl: “You did? Did you think it was scary?”

Marvel: “Yeah.”

*silence*

Marvel: “You know, a friend of mine got adopted recently.”

Little Girl: “Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah, he’s been with them for about half a year now. He says they’re great. They’ve been fostering kids for a while apparently too.”

Little Girl: “That sounds nice.”

Marvel: “It is. Do you want me to ask about it?”

Little Girl: “Huh?”

Marvel: “Do you want me to ask him if there’s any spots open?”

Little Girl: *stares for a bit* “Yeah.” *stomach growls*

Marvel: “Alright, then I will. Now, how long have you been on the streets?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm… a couple days.”

Marvel: “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.” *stands up*

Little Girl: “Really?” *hops off the bench*

Marvel: “Yeah. You feeling chili dogs or tacos? Those are the only two vendors I know that’ll give me something free.”

Little Girl: “Tacos, please.”

Marvel: “Alright then- uh, my bad. I never asked your name?”

Little Girl: “Oh uhm it’s Darla.”

Marvel: “Darla? Alright then Darla.” *fatherly ahh smile* “Let’s go get you some food, ‘kay?”

So ya. He met Darla. She’s a sweet kid. He would need to ask Freddy more about the Vazquez situation. Hopefully, just hopefully, they could squeeze the little girl into their family.

Also, uh… I guess in this AU, Freddy met the Vazquez and got adopted because he went back into foster care for a bit for whatever reason. There, he got adopted into the family. Darla joins after him for this post to work.

#billy batson #dc captain marvel #shazam #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett comics #fawcett #j’onn j’onzz #martian manhunter #freddy freeman #darla dudley #wonder woman #diana prince

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qiu-yan · 3 months ago

Text

avoidance

if i had been in jiang cheng's position immediately after the fall of lotus pier, i probably would not have tried to strangle wei wuxian.

i don't like dealing with negative emotions, so instead i'd probably say some bullshit like "whaaat? no, it's not your fault and i don't blame you at all, so don't worry about it," and then just put all my energy towards trying to survive. except i would blame wei wuxian. i would very much blame him, from the depths of my soul. even if i tried my hardest to convince myself not to blame him, that i should not blame him, that i do not want to blame him - nonetheless, my subconscious would remain convinced that, were it not for him, my family and everyone i grew up with would still be alive.

and, because of that resentment, i would begin to pull away from him.

i would not save wei wuxian from that wen patrol. even if i did love that deeply, my resentment would still blunt my reaction time and i would not be able to act in time. for the sake of convenience, let's say that wen ning rescues wei wuxian from lotus pier anyways. wei wuxian lives. what happens then? on one hand, i still resent him for causing the deaths of all my family; on the other hand, though, now i also feel guilty for allowing him to be captured and tortured simply because i would not die in his place. how do i deal with these complicated emotions - these unsightly, ugly emotions? i don't. i bury them and pretend they don't exist, because running away from difficult feelings is how i've always lived my life - i run away from him, because whenever i see him, this twinned of resentment and guilt rear their ugly heads again.

thus, because of my emotional unavailability, the relationship tanks. maybe wei wuxian gets his core melted, somehow picks up demonic cultivation anyways, and is thus pulling away from me as well; maybe the avoidance comes from both ends. and if wei wuxian instead notices that something is wrong and starts pestering me about what's wrong - well, i have full faith in my ability to deflect. i am long-practiced in diverting the focus of a conversation specifically to imply that the other party's concern isn't welcome.

thus, by the time the sunshot campaign ends, our relationship would have severely deteriorated. and then, because of this, i would take wei wuxian leaving our sect to protect the wen remnants as the actual end of our bond. unlike jiang cheng, i would not even argue against wei wuxian's leaving, nor say things as sentimental as "if you insist on protecting them, then i cannot protect you" - instead, i'd simply write off our relationship as doomed and sever it peacefully.

after all, he owes me nothing. i am entitled to neither his labor nor his presence. if he wishes to leave, then he is free to go; if he wishes to no longer be family, the i will no longer think of him as so. in fact, the less familiarly i think of him, the better: it is at once much easier and much more comfortable for me to believe, in a post-hoc sense, that someone who has left me actually never wanted to be with me to begin with, and i therefore have not lost anything of value at all. and this loss would not hurt me as much as it hurt jiang cheng in canon. after all, i, unlike jiang cheng, am a veteran at avoiding all thought on topics that distress me; instead, i'd soon find something new and exciting with which to distract myself.

i would not visit wei wuxian in the burial mounds. if jiang yanli insisted on seeing him, perhaps i would accompany her there, but i would not make any conversation with him myself beyond what is absolutely necessary. i would consider the death of jin zixuan unforgivable. i would consider the death of jiang yanli unforgivable. but perhaps i would not feel as wretchedly betrayed as jiang cheng does in canon: after all, i in this scenario, unlike jiang cheng, have already given up on wei wuxian a long time ago.

i would probably lead the first siege of the burial mounds. i would not hold the same level of animosity against the wens as jiang cheng does in canon - in general, while i can hold onto subconscious resentment for a long time, actively clinging onto seething hatred for extended periods of time is difficult for me. perhaps i'd even speak up more for the wen remnants, out of purely some abstract moral concern for the wellbeing of POWs; however, i'd stand down the moment any of said speech put my own people in danger. perhaps i'd lead the first siege of the burial mounds because it is expected of me. or perhaps i'd genuinely want the man who hurt my sister to die.

either way, if i then encountered wei wuxian in the burial mounds battlefield, i would actually kill him. it would be easy for me to do so.

---

as you might have guessed, the "i" in this passage is not actually me (yanyan) from real life. if it were Me In Real Life in jiang cheng's position i would probably just die.

instead, the "i" in thjis passage is a different MDZS character. prize for you (bragging rights) if you can guess who it is!!!!!

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yanyan speaks

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wolfsong-the-bloody-beast · 13 days ago

Text

More thoughts on Lucanis x Neve romance, from a Rookanis enjoyer, with love.

(Grab a snack. This is long.)

What I'll be focusing on in this post: Extra info and fun facts about Lucanis and Spite that I have gathered during my playthroughs. The consistency of Lucanis' writing between his romatic relationships with Rook and Neve. Addressing some criticism I've seen to be common. These are my thoughts and opinions.

As I said in my previous post about this topic, I enjoy seeing affectionate Lucanis from the external perspective, because it gives me more insight into his character. Of course, this isn't restricted to just romance, but that's what I want to focus on in this post. (It's too long as it is.) I also have to admit that I'm not exactly a Nevecanis shipper myself (not a big shipper in general), because I simply prefer romancing these characters myself, but I do think that it's a good thing that in my other playthroughs where I explore other options, besides my favourite, Lucanis has someone to make him happy, and I can personally think of nobody better for it than Neve, and Neve also deserves the world. I think it's good that they decided to pair some characters up, when unromanced, so that the group is more lively and doesn't feel like Rook's harem. Also, I tend to reblog whatever artwork of these characters that I like, regardless of whether I'm personally into the pairings or not, and regardless of whether they're possible in the game. Whatever you ship, we're good. As long as we're having fun. But that's beside the point of this post. I'm rambling already.

In my previous post, I ended my commentary with my thoughts about the dialogue cutscene that happens right after Inner Demons, where Rook finds Lucanis preparing dessert either for them or for Neve, depending on whether Rook romances him or not, and the similarities and differences of how each is handled and how each relationship develops until that point.

One thing that I didn't really touch upon is that if Rook saves Minrathous instead of Treviso, we don't get to do the Inner Demons quest, but we still get the dessert scene. So, only briefly. As most of us probably know by now, if Rook sacrifices Lucanis' home, they are cut off from his romance. Neve is not. I'm not going to delve deep into the nuance of that here. Suffice to say that Lucanis is in a vulnerable place after the Ossuary, almost a full year of physical and psychological torture, he's struggling for control of his own body with what most would consider a demon, he thinks his grandmother is dead. His abuser is still somewhere out there. He only has revenge, Treviso, and Illario left, and his cousin acts damn weird, on top of it all. If Rook makes the decision that also dooms his home, it understandably breaks his heart, even if he realizes that Rook is not to blame for what happened. He's lost pretty much everything at that point. (By the way, have you seen blighted Treviso? That place is utterly fucked. I don't think many people could process that in a healthy way.) Meanwhile Neve is in the same position as him when that choice occurs and is just as dependent on Rook's decision as he is. She is ultimately also not the one that makes the decision. It makes sense that he bonds with her over it rather than with Rook. (No, I don't care if you use a mod to make the romance happen anyway. Private mod use is none of my business.) I'm definitely not saying that one choice is better than the other, of couse. They're two different flavours of terrible. Neve is also hurt by the decision to sacrifice her home town, but she's also tragically used to struggling against the system alone and to people not showing up, and it feels like she still has at least something to hold onto. Minrathous is in terrible state and the future of the whole country looks grim, nobody knows what the consequences will be, but at the very least Dock Town stands. Hal is alive and selling treats. Some of the little people she cares about are still there. Neve's a different person with different problems to solve, and she can still find it in her heart to fall for Rook, which is amazing. But anyway...

---

What other sweet and interesting things have I learned from their romance?

Lucanis can recognize Rook by the sound of their footsteps.

We know that from walking in on him in Neve's office where he's alone, waiting for her.

Spite yells at him to talk to his sweetheart!

By saying, "Well, not just Spite," Lucanis is definitely referring to himself here. He wants to try and be more open about his feelings and Spite clearly tries to motivate him to be more proactive.

You can bet Spite yells at him to talk to Rook, as well.

Either way, we find out that Spite is supportive of Lucanis' relationship and even encourages him to act on his feelings. (Seriously, Lucanis beating around the bush must be so frustrating for a spirit of Determination.) I think that from this we can safely say that Spite also likes Neve. Enough to encourage Lucanis to court her.

Of course, we already know that Spite likes Rook a lot, and I imagine that most of us Rookanis lovers already headcanon Spite pestering Lucanis to express his feelings for Rook anyway. Or something similar. However, I don't think it's actually confirmed during a playthrough where Rook romances Lucanis. So, here, Spite canonicaly yells at Lucanis to woo his love interest.

A lot more yapping under the cut.

Once again, in this scene we see how Lucanis doesn't really have a lot of confidence in himself in this department. He keeps mentioning how he's not really good at sweet talk, which is very much in line with what he says during the previous scene where we catch him preparing the dessert before. In total, he says something to that effect at least 3 or 4 times in the game - that all he knows is knives and coffee, that he's not the charming type, that he isn't good with words, etc. (That's not what I personally think about him, but that's what he obviously thinks about himself.) He's not beating the wet cat allegations any time soon.

As I said in my previous post already, I noticed that some consider Lucanis' writing to be inconsistent between his romance with Rook and Neve. And we're all entitled to our opinions, of course. But I'd like to explain why I do not think that is true. Again, that is my perspective and my opinion.

There is one variable here that is not often taken into account here, and that is Rook. Well, two, actually. Because I think we also need to keep in mind that the scene where Lucanis' romance with Neve locks in happens quite some time after Inner Demons and the scene that occurs right afterwards where we catch Lucanis preparing the dessert. In that scene, he is still very much a wet cat, regardless of whether he's preparing the dessert to woo Rook or whether it's for Neve. (Not a bad thing to remember here is that falling for somebody seems to be rare enough for Lucanis, as he's never been in a relationship before, and he has already once before been rejected after trying to court somebody with a gift.)

First of all, if Rook is not present during the follow-up scene where the lock-in for Lucanis and Neve is supposed to happen, if the player for some reason decides to skip it, Lucanis does not express his interest to Neve and, tragically, may later regret this, should something happen to her. It makes sense that he would still have feelings for her, even if he never confessed. Love doesn't go away like that, just because you never put it into words. Also, I know this is a video game mechanic, but I still consider it part of his characterization that he needs his partner to either be very perceptive (like Rook during the scene after Inner Demons) or in this case get cornered a little to actually express his feelings in this complicated phase of his life. It makes sense when you look at how this scene plays out. Rook being there for the start of his romance with Neve is important - either it puts him a bit more at ease, or more on the spot, or a litte bit of both. Either way, it helps them work it out. (It also makes sense that it is Rook that basically spells it out to the player during the previous scene, after Inner Demons, that Lucanis has made a dessert specifically for them, if romanced, because they understand him and what he's trying to say, but the player may not, because Lucanis tends to deflect and put himself and his efforts down. He clearly has a lot of insecurity in this department and Rook is good at untangling it.)

As I also mentioned in my previous post, it's clear that when Lucanis made the first dessert, he clearly didn't express his feelings for Neve then, because... well, we get their romance lock-in here, in this scene, so much later. (I got this scene after Blood of Arlathan. That's pretty late in the game.) Neve also explicitly states that this is the second time he's made her favourite kind of pie.

With Rook, they figured it out and officially started dating on Lucanis' first try. (Or the first pie? Haha.) However, with Neve, this is his second attempt to express his feelings. This is one of the reasons why I think Lucanis' writing is consistent, and why I previously said that his romance with Neve may actually be slower than with Rook. They take longer to actually start dating and Lucanis is very much a wet cat all the way until this point.

And even in this scene, you can see that Lucanis drops the treat and coffee in Neve's office and is almost ready to evacuate again!

He just... keeps saying that.

That's so him. The Demon of Vyrantium, the legendary slayer of blood mages and Venatori, the master assassin, the demon-powered killing machine that made a near immortal eldrich horror bleed, on the verge of retreat... from his love interest, because he may know how to kill a man with his bare hands in a hundred different ways, but sweet talk? Nah, that's scary.

Except this time, Rook is there to provide emotional support (or peer pressure, haha). They already know all about his feelings for Neve. Especially if the Inner Demons quest occurs. And they can so tattle on him, if you so choose. Each of those options is pretty cute and/or funny.

No, I'm making you look great. You'll just have to trust me on this, Lucanis.

But most importantly, seeing Lucanis getting tangled in this situation, Neve finally says something. Either she finally figures it out, or more likely she just finally acknowledges it. She's a seasoned detective. She observes people all the time. Of course she would notice that he's trying to treat her special. However, from Neve's romance, we also know that she herself struggles with her own issues, namely with letting people close, so this is a significant step for her, as well. It makes sense that it takes them longer to bond, when Lucanis struggles to express his feelings and Neve tries to avoid catching feelings, or at least acting on them, for fear of things going wrong. And while Neve's bonding with Rook shows more of her internal struggle to let herself finally have something, we have to simply accept that the companions simply aren't and can't be as front as centre as the protagonist in such a game, so we can't delve into their inner workings as deeply in that case. (Funny, though, how I've never once seen anyone say that Neve's writing here is inconsistent. Almost as if it only matters when it's our Antivan male lover...) There are always going to be differences in how characters are handled in companion x companion romance vs protagonist x companion romance. Their romance is very much side content that's supposed to make them feel a little more real. It's also worth noting that Rook's lock-in scene with both Neve and Lucanis happens way earlier than this scene between them. But here, they both had a lot of time to let their feelings stew, so they can finally reach this point. However, Neve still warns him that she's not going to make his life easy. A light reference to what happens when you romance her with Rook.

I've seen some upset over the fact that we learn that Lucanis hangs out with Neve at night if he courts her, as if he doesn't with Rook. But we already know this from Lucanis' romance with Rook! Remember?

We know that Lucanis and Rook hang out together around midnight, as well! That's not new information, but I wanted to include it, because I do think (and will keep repeating that) Lucanis' writing is pretty consistent between the two romances. Lucanis loves to be around his partner. We know that from both his romances.

This is what he further says about Rook when romanced.

Which means that he will likely sit nearby like a content cat while Rook sorts out and reads their mail out loud for both of them or whatever. He doesn't care what they're up to. He wants to be there with them. It's implied that Rook and Lucanis read together. "Nearing midnight: Reading," only appears in that particular entry of his log book when he's romanced. They stay up at night to spend time together, as he also writes down in his log book. And it makes him happy, "just being around them", which you know not only from his words but also the tone of his voice when he talks about it in that banter.

Anyway. Because Neve finally acknowledges that Lucanis is clearly trying to spend time with her for a reason and admits that "maybe" she likes that (The woman also can't express her feelings to save her life, bless her.), Lucanis is pleasantly surprised (He says, "Really?" and sounds happily taken aback.) and responds warmly and enthusiastically afterwards, because of course he does. Because IS THIS SUCCESS??? LET'S GO! He gets giddy about it, and it's cute.

Neve.exe briefly stops working. Then tries to play it cool. Nothing to see here.

Encouraged by his unexpected success (He was almost about to run away!), he musters a bit of charm here, haha. From the coffee date with Rook early in the game and the scene where he almost kisses them when romanced, we know he has it in him, but at this point in the game he doesn't really seem to believe it himself. He repeats it over and over. He tells that to Emmrich at least twice. ("I don't know what [Rook] sees in me," is sort of a sad thing for him to say when you think about it, honestly, and when you look at his romance lock-in with Rook, it's a pattern. He doesn't believe he has much to offer.) He tells that to Rook when not romanced. He says it in this very scene. Yes, he's an adult. He knows what flirting is and what it entails. We all know he can pull it off. Whatever. But he clearly doesn't seem to believe that he can do it, or that he's good with words, and seems to be more comfortable expressing himself in other ways, especially at first. However, now that he knows that the person he cares for actually likes him back, too? Hell, yeah, he's unstoppable now. Heh, sort of anyway. When you think about it, his charm here and elsewhere, for most of the game actually, comes from him being earnest, not suave. Just him being himself. I think that's demonstrated on the couple of lines above. Telling Neve that she makes his life better and that he hopes he has more charm than this is not some killer move. It's just him being honest and enthusiastic after finding out she actually likes him back, and that ends up being sweeter and more charming than whatever flirt line anybody could possibly come up with. It also seems to me that once he knows that the affection is mutual, he does turn into a sweet talker, as we see on his later interactions with both Rook and Neve. But he does it in his own way.

Once again, it's important to remember that this happens quite late in the game. This is not the scene after the ordeal of Inner Demons where he prepares the first dessert, still rattled. This is possibly after all his quests have been resolved, his grandmother saved, etc. (For me, that is the case anyway.) This is why Lucanis' demeanor here is a bit more relaxed in general.

I do not think that means that his writing is inconsistent. We merely see another side of him under different circumstances.

---

Now, I'd also like to talk about some of the banters they have together afterwards, because there's some fun information there, and they're also what I've seen some complaints about.

To me, the "inconsistencies" boil down to interpretation. Simply put, it depends on whether you can imagine two adults spending quality time together without having sex.

If somebody likes to interpret the banters as Lucanis and Neve being that intimate, I think that's perfectly fine... unless they also get super upset about it and make it a whole problem. I think the banters are written in a way that let's you interpret them how you please, which in Lucanis' case is a great choice, in my opinion. As far as I'm concerned, they handled it well.

It's sort of what a lot of us do while romancing him with Rook, as well, because there's enough space left for interpretation. While Lucanis' dialogue cutscenes with Rook are mostly tame, there's also enough space for the player to headcanon whatever level of intimacy they please for the rest of the game, because there's nothing to confirm or deny that.

Personally, for my own playthrough, I like to imagine that Rook and Lucanis share those shy, fleeting touches Isabela mentions after they officially start dating, share their first kiss after Lucanis' last quest/outing, and slowly get more physically intimate overtime, but make love for the first time after Tearstone Island, like it is in the game. So, as far as I'm concerned, I already have this idea of (slowly) intensifying intimacy with time for Rook and Lucanis. That's how I personally like it, and I think that any other headcanon people come up with for their own playthrough that pleases them is great - whether they imagine that Lucanis and Rook don't get intimate at all until the bedscene happens in the game, or that they break his cot in the pantry the same evening they share the dessert, or something in between, or something else entirely. Is the note in his log book about them having a pleasant late night chat or did they cuddle? Something else? Up to you.

My point is, you can easily do the same thing with the romance between Lucanis and Neve, because the banters are so unspecific.

Let's look at the most cheeky ones I've found.

Neve: So you and Spite are friends now? Can't say my money was on that one. Lucanis: I would've lost that bet too. Neve: If it lets you sleep at night… Unless this clears the way for new and different midnight brooding. Lucanis: I wouldn't put it past me. Neve: Well, find me at midnight and we'll test the theory. Lucanis: (Chuckles)

What does this banter tell us? It tells us that they spend time together late at night. But we already know that! From their romance lock-in scene. ("You find me at midnight just to talk.") I think this banter is a reference to that. How you imagine they spend that time, that's entirely up to you. If you imagine they're fucking their brains out, and you like that, cool! If you imagine they're sitting side by side, having a pleasant time, looking through Neve's case notes, and you like that, cool. If you think they're just starting to get physically intimate, cool. Because the banter does not say.

Taash: Hey, Lucanis. Lucanis: Yes? Taash: You and Neve? Lucanis: Yes. Taash: Nice catch. Lucanis: Thanks.

He's just as cagey as he is when Taash talks to him about Rook, by the way. It continues...

Taash: And Spite's good with her? Lucanis (Spite): No talking. When. Her hat comes off. Go play with wisps. Taash: 'Kay.

This one made me laugh.

But what does it actually mean? It tells us that Lucanis sets some boundaries with Spite. He's in love. He's in a relationship now. Of course he at the very least thinks about the possibility of getting intimate.

This can again be interpreted as Lucanis and Neve already being intimate in some way. Which also doesn't necessarily mean all the way - I swear that sometimes, it seems to me that people forget that cuddling and making out and other non-sexual forms of intimacy exist. Or it could mean that Lucanis has simply considered that this is where he wants the relationship to go sooner or later, and so he's told Spite, "Hey, if this situation occurs, be quiet and give us some space." This one definitely sounds more spicy and it shows that Lucanis obviously thinks about these things, but more than anything it shows that he asks Spite to give him privacy. Again, I feel like this is up to the player and what they want it to be.

I would also like to disagree with the narrative I have seen somewhere before that Neve rejects Spite. That's not the impression I've got from the game at all. I've never once caught Neve having a problem with Spite when she and Lucanis are in a relationship. (Though I don't yet know what happens during their romance when Minrathous is saved, because that's where I'm currently romancing Neve myself, but even then I haven't really seen her say anything that would suggest that she has a problem with Spite.) Most importantly, Spite clearly likes Neve. He even suggests that Lucanis should bring her flowers from Lavendel, which is adorable.

Seriously, his romance with Neve makes it almost seem that Spite is more competent at wooing somebody than Lucanis is sometimes, which is just so funny. This little guy, trapped in a world utterly alien to him, barely understands what feet are, but he knows you bring people flowers to show affection. I love him so much. While Lucanis' reaction shows he's probably never had an example of a healthy relationship of any kind for reference in his entire life. (Actually, from his reaction it seems to me that he perhaps simply doesn't yet know if Neve even likes flowers as a gift. Insufficient data.)

Either way, I think that when Lucanis loves Neve, Spite loves her, as well. It's not Neve who sends him away to have more privacy. It's Lucanis.

"BUT I WANT LUCANIS TO GET FLOWERS FOR ROOK, AS WELL!" Look at me. Listen to me. You give that man some damn flowers. He cooks for Rook. He prepares sweet treats for them. He invites them for coffee dates. He makes coffee or hot chocolate for them, and even though he himself doesn't even like tea, he makes sure it's in the Lighthouse for them. He would kill for them. You give the man flowers. Or rather, I'll tell you what to do: You go to Treviso, visit Fletcher, and buy that fancy tea (coffee) set for Lucanis after you lock his romance in, and you'll get that little cutscene where Rook gives it to him. Enjoy his romanced response. Call me crazy, but I think that's sweeter and more satisfying than the one line where Spite has to suggest giving flowers to Neve to him and Lucanis reacts like he's not even sure that's a good idea, haha. It's something wholesome and more normal that Rook can do for him to express their affection for a change, besides standing by his side through his struggles. But anyway.

Maybe it's because I like to imagine (my) Rook and Lucanis getting intimate at that point in the game, as well, and/or because I don't think that when two adults are alone in a room together, it necessarily means that they have to immediately get naked, those banters don't bother me, nor does it seem to me like the writing is inconsistent, especially because of how open to interpretation it is. If you leave your own assumptions out of it, the banters really don't say that much. They confirm for us that Lucanis has spicy thoughts, which I personally think is cute, and which I'm also pretty sure is already part of many people's headcanon for their Rook x Lucanis playthroughs anyway. They confirm for us that Lucanis enjoys spending time with his lover. And that he tries to communicate his boundaries to Spite.

I think it's also important to realize that these are two companion characters and we don't actually get any other romance scenes between them than the one described above, so they had to give their relationship some depth pretty much exclusively through banters and some rare mention here and there, just like they do it with Taash and Harding. (By the way, I also haven't seen anyone say anything about any possible inconsistencies with Taash and Harding, either.)

From the other banters, we find out that Lucanis asks Neve what her favourite dish is, and after she tells him, he promises to try and prepare something like that for her.

Lucanis: Neve, do you have a favourite food? Neve: Whatever you're cooking. Lucanis: There must be something. Neve: I might have a weakness for seafood and candlelight. Lucanis: I'll see what I can do.

He's clearly willing to learn and actively puts effort into his relationship. That's a trait that definitely also applies to his relationship with Rook. We know that because he remembers their favourite drink, makes sure it's stocked in the Lighthouse, and later prepares a matching treat. (He may even ask Emmrich for a recipe.) His love language clearly is food and quality time together. (And stabbing people for his lover, as is particularly clear from his romance with Rook.) That's how he seems to be most comfortable showing affection.

He also tells Neve that, during the Inner Demons quest, she was there to "sort of" help guide Rook through his mental prison. Neve tries to be cool about it and again ceases to function when he's earnest about it, which is always funny (and understandable).

Lucanis: Neve. In the Fade with Rook and Spite... you were there. I mean, not you, but... you know what I mean. You helped Rook. Sort of. Neve: Sort of? Well, isn't that flattering. At least I'm on your mind. Lucanis: You are. And not just then. Neve: I... oh. Well, then.

And he says he's not good with words.

Neve: I need to go through my notes later. See what the Shadows might find useful. Lucanis: Need company? Neve: No. But I'd love yours all the same. Lucanis: Then I'm yours.

Again, they talk about spending time together. That's definitely his thing. Lucanis also gives Neve similar "I'm yours," that he gives Rook. When you visit him in the pantry, he may say to Rook: "Did you need me? I'm yours." It couldn't be more clear that he's ready to be wherever Rook is, regardless of what they're doing, as well.

Also, a version of this banter exists before Lucanis and Neve start dating and possibly before dealing with Aelia. More casual, but similar vibe.

Lucanis: You don't sleep much, do you? Neve: More than you, but little enough. Still looking over everything on Aelia. Lucanis: If you need fresh eyes, I'm awake anyway. Neve: Maybe. If you don't mind the company. It comes with wisps. Lucanis: Wisps are nothing. Besides, you're better company than Spite. Neve: Really? Rumour has it I'm a pain in the ass. But that's if you ask Tarquin.

I think that's what Neve references when she says, "You find me at midnight just to talk."

All in all, the banters between Lucanis and Neve, and with a couple of other companions, during their romance simply hint at them having a loving relationship and spending quality time together. Consider that they had to squeeze their whole relationship into a few lines of banter and an occasional mention in dialogue and somehow make it believable, because unlike Rook and Lucanis, they don't have whole quests, outings, and many other interactions inside and outside of the Lighthouse, to develop their relationship.

Lucanis' relationship is definitely flavoured by his partner, whether it is Rook or Neve, and it's good that it's not completely the same for both couples, because they're different individuals, but I also don't really find any actual inconsistencies in their characterization between them.

I do agree that some of these interactions are super sweet and I would absolutely love it if we had some more of them between Rook and Lucanis and the other companions, because honestly I could easily listen to a hundred more, but it's also necessary to acknowledge that Lucanis and Neve are two companion characters and the few banters, one short cutscene, and a rare mention here and there, are all they get. And I think it's perfectly sufficient for them as NPCs. The interactions are lovely. They're clearly good for each other. But I also don't think they're actually getting anything extra in comparison with Rook, and I'm just honestly a bit baffled by the noise about it.

Rook as the protagonist has great chemistry and dynamic with Lucanis from the very beginning, thoughout the whole game, as I already to some extent described in my previous post. This post is already way too long without me getting too much into it here. But Rook has the benefit of being able to do Lucanis' quests, go on outings with him, be there for him during all the important moments (e.g. his grandma's funeral arrangements), have various interactions in the Lighthouse (e.g. Lucanis attempts to kiss them way before the dessert scene comes up) and outside of it. The Inner Demons quest is, in my opinion, the most intimate thing ever while doing his romance. They have banter together and with the other companions about their relationship and other things. We know they spend quality time together. Besides travelling everywhere side by side outside of the Lighthouse so often, they get together late at night, read together, are coffee buddies (or whatever drink you've chosen). Lucanis insists that Rook stay and tell stories while they drink with Davrin, wanting to hear a story from their life that he's already heard from others before, just because he thinks nobody tells it as well as Rook. I don't think that loses its meaning just because it's also a friendly interaction. Lucanis writes into his log book about them. He yells at Illario when he injures them. Etc. Etc. I really don't think there's any reason to hate on Neve, be jelly, or argue which relationship is more "canon". (For fuck's sake.)

Not to be patronizing or anything, but we, as a fandom, do remember what canon is, right? As in, actually established facts about the setting. As in, humans, elves, dwarves, and qunari are the races populating Thedas. Alistair Theirin was at the Battle of Ostagar. Magic and dragons exist. Treviso is in Antiva. Then there's personal "canon" that we each create for ourselves and those are wildly different. (And that's great about them!) For some, that means that e.g. the Hero of Ferelden died killing the Archdemon. Or that Hawke sided with the mages. Or that the Inquisitor exiled the Wardens. Or that Rook tricked Solas. Romances and optional relationships between NPCs fall into the category of personal "canon". Let's not forget that. It's so stupid to argue about which relationship is more legit when it literally depends on the player's choice. This is a reminder aimed especially at the part of the fandom crying that Neve's romance with Lucanis somehow invalidates Rook's romance with him.

As for them reusing small bits of Lucanis' romance scenes with Rook for his romance with Neve. Mostly this just means that he mentions her in like... two dialogues, maybe. It doesn't bother me, because to me that is the smart move, because it saved them time that they could invest into something else, probably more significant. I think it would bother me way more if they actually put unnecessary time into creating a lot extra content for them when I could have it instead. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think it takes anything away from Lucanis' romance, because his romance and dynamic with Rook, overall, is delightful and consists of so much more than one short cutscene and a couple of lines.

Again, I'm not here to argue with anyone. Mostly, I think. I'm here to offer my perspective and also information for those who haven't seen Lucanis x Neve for themselves, don't have time for multiple playthroughs, or whatever, but are interested and/or want to know more about Lucanis for their headcanon.

Now, I'm going to end this rambling here, otherwise I'll keep adding to it forever. Pardon any mistakes or nonsense, I can't bear to read this all again, haha. If you've read all the way here, thank you so much for putting up with my bullshit. That's crazy.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age: The Veilguard #DATV #Veilguard #Lucanis Dellamorte #Dragon Age: The Veilguard spoilers #DATV spoilers #Veilguard spoilers #I feel insane for having written all of this not gonna lie #it was supposed to be a short comparison #how did this happen #I just started one day and kept adding to it #what am I doing with my life?

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nothomegal · 1 year ago

Text

"Nothing, just (Y/N)"

(Pyramid Head(s) x GN! Reader NSFW)

Minors do NOT interact!

Summary: wondering through abandoned semi-ruined places is great to hide and get lost, and in your case the latest happened. But don't worry! Because you were lucky enough to bump into your lover... Or not. Whoever, or whatever this is, it really looks like your monster, yet it's different at the same time... Huh, I wonder what will happen when these two do meet face to face... Huh, I wonder what verdict awaits you.

Warnings: non-con touches at first, brief mentions of nipple play, oral (Pyra receiving), references to double penetrations (but you can interpretate it differently since the reader is gender neutral).

Word Count: 3.9k

This idea popped up after I remembered that Pyramid Head has two different designs (one that appears in DBD and Silent Hill 2, and the other one from the movie and Silent Hill Homecoming, y'know where he has a more pointy helmet and exposed torso)

I usually describe the DBD/original version (though my dummy self been using gifs with the other design hashsha). But still, why don't we present our lil' (Y/N) the other one? 🤭

They’re lost. (Y/N) let out a long tired sigh as they keep walking through the long dark hallway of what appears to be a school.

They begin to regret their decision of going deeper, it probably would’ve been smarter to just chill in one of the classes until the ‘newcomers’ leave the area, buut… Uh, last time they hid in a room they ended up kidnapped by the group they tried to avoid so yeah… Not really a fan to repeat that experience.

The school was dead silent most of the time, apart from the sound of their footsteps or the occasional shuffle or hiss from a Creeper. For anyone new, this would be an unnerving place, but for (Y/N)? Oh they’re chilling with the peace n’ quiet around them. Sure, silence is not always associated with safety and there is always the possibility of something lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. But in (Y/N)’s case it’s not possible, no creature is dumb enough to even get close to them, not to mention hurting. They can’t help but to chuckle to themselves, they’ve been in this place for quite a while, probably months, maybe even a year! Or two? And no matter how much time passed or will pass, they still can’t believe the fact that one of the most fearsome creatures of Silent Hill took them under his wing, keeping them safe and making them feel something more than just a piece of flesh to use or kill.

Sigh, they probably have the dumbest lovesick face they’ve ever made, like some teenager thinking about his crush, but can you really blame them? Who the hell wouldn’t get all giddy with a creature like Pyra? And speaking of him, they probably should find an exit faster before he gets tired of looking for them and just tanks his way through the building-.

Or maybe not, because the sound of metal scraping the old tiled floor of the school and the erratic heavy footsteps resonated from one of the hallways. Huh, each day they start to believe that they somehow summon Pyra just by thinking about him for long enough.

With a little smile (Y/N) makes their way towards the sounds, happy to have their lover back with them after him completing his hunt and punishment.

–”Hey big guy! Sorry for the trouble of having to look for me in here. Just wanted to avoid the incident from the last ti- ”–

(Y/N)’s voice died and they froze in place when they met the source of the sound. Yes, it was the known pyramid headed beast, but… It wasn’t their pyramid headed beast, it wasn’t Pyra.

The monster in front of them was different; his vest, which appeared to be stitched, was only covering everything below the waist, leaving the torso completely exposed. The helmet was different too, it was more… Pointy? The edges were sharper and the shape was more triangular and detailed with additional metallic pieces.

This other beast and (Y/N) remain completely still, staring at each other in heavy silence, the monster’s metallic breathing being the only audible thing. (Y/N) gulps nervously, both confused and afraid. What the… Who is this creature?! Why does it look almost like Pyra?! Is this another executioner? Wasn’t Pyra the only one? Are there more monsters like him? Then why did they never see it before?!

Their internal freak out paused then the other beast let out the familiar low metallic rumbling, which wasn’t as low and deep as the one Pyra emitted, but that fact didn’t make the sound any less intimidating, especially when the monster seemed to grip the handle of his large knife tighter.

–”W-Wrong executioner, m-my bad!”– you peep out before taking off running.

They sprint down the hallway, their adrenaline skyrocketing when they hear the known bulky footsteps and scraping noises behind them. They haven’t felt this much terror since being chased by Pyra himself. Sure the group of shady men was scary too but their demise was inevitable. In the case with Pyra… Well, if the executioner chooses you as his target, there is no chance to escape your fate, only delay it.

But- But this time it will be different, right? Their Pyra is still somewhere around, right? It’s unclear what they're hoping for, or what they want to happen when both beasts face each other. All (Y/N) knows is that the true safety has always been in Pyra’s arms, and they have no other option but to go there if they want to have the slimmest chance to survive this chase.

Despite trying to find the exit, it feel like they only get themselves deeper into the building, all hallways and rooms appear to get darker and more rotten, it's like they're decending deeper into hell, closer to their demise, further from their salvation...

But the light of hope was recandled when while turning a corner (Y/N) bumped face first into a firm and broad torso, which didn't even budge at the impact while they already had landed on the floor right on their butt. They rub their nose after the impact and shoot their gaze up, their heart almost jumping through their rib cage after recognizing the known pyramidal shape of the creature’s head, thinking that the beast chasing after them somehow outsmarted their panicked brain. But when the creature kneeled down they instantly relaxed as relief flushed through them, despite the monster’s large form menacingly towering over them and engulfing their smaller frame with its shadow.

–”Pyra!”– you exclaim both happy and relieved as you scramble right into his arms.

The monster instantly wrapped his large arms around (Y/N), his own body tensing up, as if feeling the distress of his human and knowing they’ve been chased by something, fact that clearly angered him. When the sounds of metal scraping the floor and slow heavy footsteps began to resonate from afar, (Y/N) tensed up even more.

–”Th-There it comes… It- That thing, it looks like you!”– you warn him as you grip his vest tighter.

Pyra remains still for a moment as the noises get closer. After a while, he slowly stands up to his full height, lifting (Y/N) with him and putting them back to their feet to then gently push them behind him. The mentioned person carefully peeks from behind his large form, both afraid but also curious to see if it’s really another creature like Pyra and it actually exists or they just officially went coconuts and somehow imagined it all. Their doubts were dissolved once the other creature appeared from around the corner, his pace slow and unhurried. The monster froze in place as he stared at them, Pyra froze too and stared back. The atmosphere suddenly turned… Weird, not tense and heavy as one would expect, just odd and bizarre.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t feel at ease at all. There is a reason humans fear the unknown, and that’s the main factor that keeps the mentioned person on high alert. They have absolutely no idea of what to expect to happen next, are these two about to fight? Will the other creature turn around and leave? Will it somehow change Pyra’s mind and he will kill them? Are they in danger? Should they run? Wait? Pray?

A breathless gasp escaped their lips when the other creature began to move, slowly making his way towards them two. What freaked and confused (Y/N) even more is the fact that Pyra doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, he remains still in his place with absolutely no intent to stop the other monster.

When the second beast got way too close for their liking, and Pyra was still doing nothing about it, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath out and stepped away from their lover to then begin to back away on their own.

–”No. N-No stop, that’s-...”– you swallow nervously as you shoot a pleading glance to your beast. –”Pyra…”–

But he doesn’t react to their pleas, he doesn’t even look at them… And when the other beast was right next to him is when he finally does move, slowly turning around, and just like the other executioner, he begins to slowly walk towards (Y/N) in the same menacing manner, not like they’re his lover, but another victim to punish…

This scene broke (Y/N)’s heart into numerous tiny pieces, is… Is that it? Is Pyra really going to just… Kill them here and now? After all this time they’ve been together he… He’s just going to throw all that away like it’s nothing? Like they are nothing?... Silly them, of course he will, he’s Pyramid Head, the executioner, an immortal and eternal being created to punish and kill. Who are they to him?... They are nothing, just a little meaningless human… Just (Y/N).

The moment their back collides with a wall, their survival instincts kick in. Even though deep down they knew that their fate is practically written on their forehead, their mind was focused on the most primal desire that a human can have in case of facing danger; run away.

And so they do, they obey their instincts. When they notice an opening between the other monster’s large body and a wall to squeeze through, they bold forward with no care in the world and miraculously dodging his arm that attempted to grab and stop them from escaping. They let out a breathless chuckle out of shock that they actually managed to dodge that by ducking, such a silly maneuver actually wor-.

Suddenly something gets a hold of the back of their shirt and yoinks them back, right against Pyra himself. He holds them tightly against his chest, one arm being more than enough to keep the panicked human in place despite all the desperate struggles to break free. (Y/N) is beyond terrified now, they feel Pyra’s arm tighten around them while the other one gets so close that he ends up pressing his body against their front. Now being basically sandwiched and completely immobile, (Y/N) is feeling like passing out at any second. In any other occasion they’d be so flustered and aroused by this, but now? Oh their poor mind is being flooded with terrible images of how the two executioners will end them, the newer thought worse than the previous one. They’re shivering like crazy, eyes shut tightly, waiting for the wave of pain to come as the monsters will begin to skin them alive…

But after nothing happening for a solid minute, (Y/N) gathers enough courage to finally open their eyes and see what’s going on and why these two beasts are not doing anything. The instant they peek up, the two monsters let out that famous amused rumble, which due to the closeness, made (Y/N)’s whole body vibrate, super weird (and kinda pleasant) feeling.

(Y/N) was about to yell in anger, thinking that these two are seeing their fear and pain of the betrayal as something funny, but such chance was lost the moment they began to feel big hands roam around their body, caressing and feeling every curve through their clothes. The gesture wasn’t aggressive or mocking, but affectionate and loving, just like Pyra’s actions towards them on a daily basis.

Now (Y/N) is confused and quite dumbfounded. Didn’t these two have the intention to murder them? Why is this other monster suddenly so docile? Are they truly safe? Wha-

A shiver ran through their body when the executioner in front of them managed to slip his hand under their shirt, tracing the rough yet warm skin of his bare palm through the softer skin of their abdomen and chest. They let out a surprised squeak when the hand reached higher and brushed against their nipple, the contact causing (Y/N)'s body to shiver, and it only got worse when the beast began to rub it as it let out an amused purr. Another whimper escaped their mouth when Pyra’s hand made its way through their inner thigh, squeezing and rubbing their flesh gently until it stopped right between their legs, his movements getting progressively bolder and suggestive with each little sound that left that pretty mouth of theirs. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as they realized what the two monsters are trying to initiate.

–”Wa-Wait no-! I- I’m- I’m n-not ready for th-this!”– you stammer nervously as you try to clumsily wiggle out their grasp, face already red and flustered. –”You- You two s-sto-!”–

They have no chance to even finish the sentence as something warm and wet suddenly entered their mouth, making contact with their own tongue, which suddenly turned the action into some very sloppy kiss. Their struggles also lead to nothing, both monsters only squeezed them tighter against each other, reducing (Y/N)’s mobility even more. This continues for a couple of seconds, until the "kiss" finally stops and (Y/N) is finally allowed to breathe again, their mouth completely wetted with their and Pyra’s saliva. As they pant like a dog, trying to recatch their breath, they feel Pyra’s hand travel up to their face and wrap his hand around their face, rubbing their cheek lovingly as his tongue playfully wiggles in front of them.

(Y/N) suddenly gasps shakily as they feel something hard being pressed against their front and back, and by the way both monsters growled, they knew exactly what it was and what’s about to happen.

They shouldn't want this, they should try to get away and put a stop to this, they really should… But it’s hard, it’s hard to think straight when their mind has been poisoned with their own arousal and lust. Their logic side is saying no, but their whole body and most of their mind is screaming yes.

As if reading their mind, both monsters made a pleased sound and the next thing they know is that their body was swung over Pyra’s shoulder and taken somewhere... But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t get completely blown up in a moment, and Pyra’s big hand squeezing their ass and thighs is a reminder of that. They’re then brought into one of the classrooms of the school and their body is placed on one of the tables, just like the little delicious treat they were.

From their spot, (Y/N) stares at the two beasts with half lidded eyes and lovesick gaze. It’s like being under some sort of spell whenever things get heated between them and Pyra, and now that there are two of them? Oh, it’s like being hypnotized to act like a slave of their own lustful desires.

The two monsters were kind enough to actually undress (Y/N) (instead of destroying their clothes). And now, fully exposed and being in all fours, they silently observes as both executioners position themselves. The other beast is right behind them, one hand placed on their hips and the other one pulling down his vest, revealing an already fully erect and hard cock, tip brushing along their skin, making them shiver in anticipation. Pyra was right in front of them, vest fully opened and pants pulled down too, his cock just as erect and needy for his sweet lover, one gloved hand placed under their chin as his thumb rubs their cheek and lips lovingly, as if saying “you’ll do such a good job drear”.

The calm lasts for a couple more seconds… And then the whole world goes down without a warning. The beast from behind slams his whole length almost and ones, barely giving (Y/N) time to adjust to his size. Pyra also nearly choked them when he pushed the tip and part of his cock into (Y/N)’s mouth, but he was kind enough to wipe their tears of pain and pleasure.

This was both a torture and a treasure, the roughness and feral neediness of these monsters made (Y/N) feel a certain type of way. The knowledge that two powerful beings craved for them, THEM, so so badly made them feel both very special and flustered, just what did the executioner see in them to make him want their body and soul so much? Crave for them both sexually and emotionally, want nothing but to be close to them and keep them to himself, not just like a trophy or a pet, but as something worth to worship.

And they did, they really felt oddly worshiped despite being absolutelly destroyed by them. Feeling the one from behind dig his fingers into their flesh as he pushes into them, trying to bring them closer to his own body with each thrust and the distorted rumbles and groans he makes when the contact between their skins is missing, even for a brief second, only proves how much he wants them close. Pyra was too showing the effect they had on him, saliva actively dripping from that little hole in his helmet where the tongue would come out, hand placed in the back of (Y/N)’s head as he fucks their mouth and throat, and the fact that he’s not thrusting with more force also proves the care he has for them. They both could be rougher, they both could be more selfish, they know they totally could destroy them if they really wanted to… But they actively chose not to, because even in this feral and lustful state they’re in, they care for them, they care for their little sweet (Y/N).

The action doesn’t last too long, as (Y/N) is barely holding themselves back from coming ,and eventually it got too much. The second the monster from behind felt their release, he let out a growl and quickened his pace. (Y/N)’s body began to shiver, wobbly limbs barely supporting their own weight due to the overwhelming feeling of fullness and the lack of oxygen, air they can hardly get since Pyra’s pace got faster as well. When they eventually collapsed, their body miraculously remained in place and it all thanks to the beast behind them, who caught them and held them up with a single large hand placed on their chest.

It was hard to keep up, hard to keep themselves from coming again, but they must refuse, must holdup, must wait for the two monsters fucking their brains out to come before allowing their own sweet release again. And just as they reached their absolute limit, so did the two beasts. The taste and the sensation of their release drunken (Y/N) completely, eyes rolling as they let out a weak muffled moan as they're sent both to heaven and hell at the same time, their inside burning and their skin shivering under the cold sweat.

Once done, Pyra takes his still hard cock out of (Y/N)’s mouth, allowing them to take all these needed gulps of air as the white liquid drips from their mouth and down their chin, even after trying to swallow it they still got messy, a picture that their lover absolutely adored.

Though (Y/N) was quite tired, they know this is not the end, this is just the beginning˜.

They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly lifted and their back is pressed against the solid and warm exposed torso of the beast behind them. The table they were previously on had been flung across the whole classroom with great force and the next thing they know is that they’re completely immobilized again by Pyra’s body pressing their form against the monster behind. And soon enough, (Y/N)’s mind is being turned into mush again when the beasts begin to move again, their thrusts strong and hitting all the sweet and most sensitive spots of theirs.

Their movements were unnaturally coordinated, knowing exactly when to thrust and how to move so their helmets won’t collide. It was both freaky and fascinating to see, which left (Y/N) thinking if Pyra is really as simple as they initially thought, or is he the embodiment of something way more sinister-.

Their thoughts melted into a mass of letters and blurry shapes at the sensation of the rough fingers of the beast from behind rub their sensible nipples again, sending violent jolts and shivers with the mildest movements. Now (Y/N) was a complete panting and moaning mess, though their sounds were slightly muffled by Pyra’s broad chest, even slightly suffocating them at times with how close he got (not like they mind it). They always cringed at how vocal they can get during sex but they also knew better than to try to quiet the noises after learning the hard way how much their monstruous lover adores to hear them.

This fucking continued for a good ammount of time, (Y/N) already lost count of how many times they came, they have absolutely no clue! All they know is that they’re like in heaven, seeing stars and impossible colors of light flash before their eyes with each release just to then fall back into their mortal body and suffer the consequences of all the overstimulation and the generally overwhelming sensations. How are they still awake and breathing? They have no idea, but it did kinda boost their ego to know they’re tougher than they thought.

Eventually, the thrusts come to an end after the two monsters came one last time, causing (Y/N) to hide their face deeper into Pyra’s chest as they sink their fingers into his flesh and scratch his scarred skin with their nails. Even after coming and filling them up real' good yet again, the executioners remained in place, not pulling away from (Y/N) and still holding them against each other.

After regaining part of their breath, (Y/N) pulls back and their eyes wide at the sight of all the marks they left along Pyra’s broad chest and abdomen, both scratch and bite marks. The executioner from behind also received some lovely scratches on his body as well, when did they even manage to make these? None of the monsters seemed bothered by the marks though, and their hands roaming over (Y/N)’s body is a clear confirmation of that, showing just how pleased they are with their performance, even if they didn’t really do anything.

Now that the heat is slowly dying (Y/N) should feel cold, yet the warm skin of the beasts keep them perfectly warm and comfortable, their big hands traveling around their body, soothing the growing soreness in their muscles and worshiping every inch of their soft and tender skin, despite it being covered in sweat and drops of their load.

(Y/N) wanted to cry, but not out of pain, but of how loved they felt in that moment. The surprisingly gentle and affectionate caressing, the soft purrs and rumbles that at times resembled praises, and the overall atmosphere among them three felt so overwhelmingly comforting and loving, nothing like the heated lustful air from moments before.

Tiredness and exhaustion made itself known and they began to slowly doze off. Luckily, they didn’t have to worry about having a pillow, the chest of the two monsters were a perfect replacement, so warm and kinda soft now that their bodies and muscles relaxed a bit.

Unknowingly to (Y/N), a little smile formed on their lips. Yes, they're still pretty much nothing compared to a creature like Pyramid Head, but the fact that this same creature, or in this case, creatures, are all over them, a simple little human, makes (Y/N) feel this alien thrill and warmth.

They're still just (Y/N) though.

Their (Y/N).

Ţ̴̡̤͕̝̱̙͎̗͓͎͔̤͍͍̺̖̣̥͇͔̺̖̬̑̅͆̅ͅͅ ̷̨̢̢̡̡̡̧̨̬̲͈̹̦̤̻̬̳͎̳͔̬̘̤̤͚̮͇̪̗͍̺̟̦̯̙͇͔͓͈̫̾̾̂̂̚͠H̸̪͇͚͙̫͇̯̆̚ ̵̧̜͔͎̙͈̦̥̣̥͕̅̆́̆̑͗̈͛̇̓̾̏̇̌͛̾̓̉̀͛̓͆̈́̇̃́̄́̑̊͐̎̍͊̂̈́͆̕̚͘͘͝͝Ȩ̵͈̟̜͓̥͙̣͙̲̤̰̫̟̭̲̪͔͖͇͉̩̗̩͕̮̲̳̼͖̜̳̙͗͒̓̀̊̊͋̿̉̿͜ͅͅ ̷̘̦̜̻͓̒̽͛̚͝Ì̴̡̧̡̧͓̭̝̥̱̻̦̻͔͙̜̳̘̣̘̻̗̫̮̬͖̝͕̬͕͕͐͋͋͆̔̂̍͌͑̏̌͌̚̚ͅ ̵̨̜̻̬̲̬̩̤̹̩̮͈̮̭͈̙̦̪͕͕̭̠̝̝̀̿̓̀̌̌͊̅ͅR̶̫̯̬͚͚̝̦͋͌͒͐̀̄͌̃̓̌̈́̉̄͐͆

#nothomegal fic #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head #slasher x reader #gn reader #pyramid head smut #nothomegal smut fic

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 20 days ago

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Miraculous vs The Power of Love

I've written several posts where I talked about Miraculous' poor use of the power of love trope and how that massively turned me off to canon. Three strikes and you're out! When this topic comes up I usually bring up Adrien and only Adrien. This has led to some anger at the fact that I didn't mention love failing anyone else as it absolutely has. I've also seen some anger over my desire for Adrien to defeat Gabriel's control and win the day since Adrien is a victim and that means that it's perfectly fine if he fails to beat his father's control no matter what the consequences of that failure are. After all, the failure isn't really on Adrien. It's on Gabriel. A sentiment I understand, but don't agree with since this is a writing blog. I'm discussing the message the writing is sending not which character gets the in-universe blame.

I'm not going to change how I discuss this topic since it is my honest opinion, but I can explain that opinion in depth to hopefully save us all from miscommunication! That's why I'm making this post! It addresses all of the above. I'll be linking to this whenever the topic comes up so that I can include some nuance without having to go into all of the detail I'm about to go into because - as you'll see - this is a long one which is why I don't go into this depth in other posts. It would just totally derail them. I'm also not going to go into the deconstruction aspect of things here because this is already really long, but I do have a post on that for even more nuance!

If you disagree with any of this, that's totally fine! I just ask that you keep the your counter arguments civil. Remember, we're talking about a badly written kids show that none of us have the power to change and the magical power of love isn't real so it doesn't actually matter if I'm right about this. Nor is Adrien going to thank you for coming to his aid. He doesn't exist and, as always, my issue is not him as a person. My issue is the way the narrative uses him as a storytelling tool.

What Is the Power of Love?

The power of love is a trope where either platonic or romantic love saves the hero from some type of conflict or upsetting situation. It's a rather broad trope that can be used in conflicts of any size, but even TV tropes acknowledges that it's primarily "applied in dire situations to make things better. In fact, in many Disney movies it's the solution to everything." That definition is how I approach the power of love.

To put it more bluntly, unless we're talking about a specific example, when I say "the power of love" I am thinking of a story's climax or, in the case of something like a multi-season show, one of the climaxes. More specifically, I'm thinking of the lyrics to one of my favorite cheesy pop songs:

There comes a time When you face the toughest of fights Searching for a sign Lost in the darkest of nights The wind blows so cold Standing alone Before the battle's begun But deep in your soul The future unfolds As bright as the rays of the sun You've got to believe In the power of love

If it's not the toughest of fights or the darkest of nights, then the power of love failing may disappoint me, but I don't consider it an unforgivable sin. In some cases, I'd even be disappointed if the power of love was brought in before the climax! The power of love is the ultimate cheesy move so it makes sense to save it for the last minute if using it earlier would lessen or even ruin that last minute epic save.

To show what I mean, let's talk about another trope that Miraculous has failed to use well, but that doesn't ruin the show for me. A trope that has led the show to do the exact thing we just discussed: ignore a small moment when love should have won to allow for a bigger win when all hope seems lost.

The Evil Clone Thing

[Image description: the Buzz and Woody meme with the words "Evil Clones. Evil Clones Everywhere"]

There have been an absurd number of episodes where the evil clone/evil twin trope came into play, but the three big ones are Ladybug, Optigami, and the season four final. In each of these episodes, we see a good character replaced by an identical evil version. We also see the good character's love interest fail to recognize that their crush/romantic partner has been replaced. That means that all three of these episodes see the power of romantic love failing. We also don't see a more platonic version of love show up to save the day.

The worst of these episode is the season four final where Marinette doesn't recognize that Felix has taken Adrien's place. That deception is how Gabriel steals the miraculous so it's obviously a pretty big deal and can be argued as a major fail for the power of love. I don't disagree. I think that Marinette's love should have let her see through the lies and dislike that the writers took this route to make her lose. However, I don't have this on my list of moments when the power of love needed to win for the story to work.

While Marinette failing to recognize Felix leads to her darkest hour, it does not happen in her darkest hour. Her darkest hour comes when she actually loses the miraculous which happens in a completely different scene from the one where she's deceived. It's also worth noting that Felix is not present in this moment of loss so there was no opportunity for the power of love to pull off a last minute win.

The loss of the miraculous leads to a scene where Ladybug is sitting alone in the rain, ready to give up all hope. And what happens next?

[Image description: Chat Noir standing in the rain, smiling, holding out his hand to Ladybug]

Chat Noir shows up to reignite Ladybug's will to fight via his love and support. She takes his hand, he draws her into a hug, and they stand together as one, ready to once again face their enemy:

Cat Noir: We're gonna get them back one by one…until the very last. And we'll make sure this never happens again. Ladybug: You...and me? Cat Noir: You, the best superhero there ever was... and me, your loyal partner.

A lot of people love this scene and it led to some major hype for season five which means that it's time to quote some more of that cheesy song that I brought up at the start:

Stand by my side There's nothing to hide Together we'll fight to the end Take hold of my hand And you'll understand What it truly means to be friends You've got to believe (you've got to believe) In the power of love

While I don't love the season four final, it is a B-tier execution of the thing I was talking about earlier. Canon let love fail in a small moment to increase tension and give Ladybug a "darkest night" moment. That darkest night moment then led to a semi-epic power-of-love comeback that understandably got a lot of fans super excited for season five because they assumed that it was going to be the season of Ladynoir. In other words, for a lot of fans, the power of love did its job in the season four final!

All of this is why I don't bring up Marinette when I talk about the power of love failing. It does fail her, but not in her darkest nights and toughest fights. Any time she's overwhelmed and ready to give up all hope, someone comes along to give her the will to fight on. That person is usually Chat Noir because he's her end game love interest so of course the writers use him! His "you and me against the world" moments may not be the most epic example of the power of love winning, but they are the power of love winning, so saying that the power of love fails Marinette feels like an overstatement of harm. She's never had a total loss.

The closest we get to Marinette truly losing is the season five final. That episode feels like an ultimate-level failure to many of us, on par with Ephemeral, but the writers clearly don't agree. For them, season five had a happy ending which makes critiquing that final fight tricky. I'll be arguing that Adrien lost hard in the next section, but I can't say the same for Marinette and this section is about her so let's focus on that for now.

No matter how much I hate the final, I can't look at the picture below this paragraph and argue that love failed Marinette because what did losing cost her? This isn't the season four final where she genuinely suffered. This is her getting everything she's ever wanted! The miraculous are back in her hands, she won the heart of the boy she loves, and no one is actively messing with her love life anymore. That's a pretty solid win even if she didn't win the actual fight.

[Image description: Adrien and Marinette at the end of the season five final, kissing in the spot that used to house Emilie's statue.]

This is further complicated by the fact that - as written - the season five final doesn't put Marinette in a position to use the power of love. She's never given a chance to save Adrien or even just talk to him. She doesn't know that's he's in trouble, locked up in a padded cell, suffering all alone! And Adrien's love can't rally her in her darkest moment when all hope seems lost because - for the first time ever in a season final - she never got one of those! She was a badass in the final fight! No pep talk or supportive teammates necessary! She would have had a total victory if the writers hasn't made her try to talk sense to the villain or sent her Adrien's ring just so Gabriel could make the wish, further adding to the problem of this show's absolutely vile messaging around love.

In other words, lack of love isn't why Marinette loses the final fight. She loses because the writers wanted love to empower Gabriel in his darkest moment, a move the writers have the audacity to call a mutual victory. (Gross. Abusive terrorist should not get power of love moments without a massive redemption arc first. It's yet another insult to the trope. Gabriel did not deserve peace while his son goes on to suffer.)

If you think about the episodes Ladybug and Optigami you'll notice a similar problem. The power of love failed to let Chat Noir and Alya recognize that their romantic interests had been replaced, but that failure didn't lead to their ultimate defeat. It didn't even lead the villains to a minor victory! Both episodes maintain the status quo.

This doesn't mean that I like those episodes. I would rewrite both of them to let love win because they're good examples of small moments where love can win without cheapening or ruining the season's big climax. I just don't view these episodes as times when the show needed to use the power of love if it wanted to honor its chosen genre. That requirement only applies when it's a darkest night or toughest fight.

Before we move on, please note that Ladybug was the power of Adrien's love failing, yet I never mention it when I'm complaining about the power of love failing. That's because I'm never purposefully listing every time Adrien's love failed and ignoring everyone else. I'm simply listing the moments when love needed to let the heroes win because we were in one of the show's darkest hours and that is the only time when I consider the power of love a true requirement. Love can fail in small moments to increase the tension, but if love fails at the moment when all hope seems lost, then why are we even here?

There are only three episodes that get that level of criticism from me and each one had a single character whose writing infuriated me: Adrien.

Adrien vs The Power of Love

There are three episodes where Gabriel's identity is revealed and the final fight goes down. Those episodes are Chat Blanc, Ephemeral, and the season five final. In each of these episodes, Adrien suffers on a scale that no other character has had to suffer:

In Chat Blanc he is akumatized and forced to use his cataclysm to kill both his father and the love of his life, dooming him to spend eternity alone in a dead word.

In Ephemeral he is akumatized and forced to use his powers to hand the love of his life over to his father, thereby allowing Gabriel to win and rewrite reality.

In the season five final, Adrien is left alone in a jail cell, tormented by nightmares while his father dies leaving Adrien an orphan. Adrien is then told some truly colossal lies about what actually happened, leading him to believe that Gabriel scarified himself to save Ladybug's life. Since Chat Noir's usual role in fights is protecting Ladybug, this is arguably the equivalent of Adrien being told that his failure to show up killed his father. I'm not even sure if that's the wrong message because Gabriel did die from a cataclysm and Adrien would understandably blame himself for that, too, so maybe this was a way to address that without going too dark for kids and why does that argument hold water? Wtf was this trash fire of a story line???

When you compare Adrien's treatment in these episodes to something like Marinette's treatment in season four final you can hopefully see why it feels like comparing a broken arm to a mortal blow. It's not that Marinette doesn't suffer. In terms of individual moments of suffering, Marinette beats out every other character! But while she may beat Adrien in breadth, he is the clear winner in terms of depth and the only one who never gets a true power of love moment.

Marinette's darkest nights and toughest fights ultimately work out so that she can go on to some new type of suffering, the old suffering fading away to nothing more than memory. Adrien's darkest nights and toughest fights lead to loss and suffering for which there is no cure other than rewinding time or rewriting reality. The season five final even has Adrien directly state that he's not worthy of Marinette's love:

Adrien: I'm not in my right mind. I'm too angry — at myself for falling short of Marinette's love, at my father for sending me here in London, at this stupid app and these rings that use my image... it makes me sick! This nightmare is giving me the horrible feeling that, if I transform, I'll get akumatized and destroy everything with my Cataclysm — Marinette, Ladybug... (Takes off the ring and hands it to Plagg.) Plagg: Surely Ladybug can help you. Adrien: If I ask her for help, I'd have to give her information that would jeopardize my secret identity... and I can't.

This is literally Adrien's last scene in the main story line. He doesn't show up again until the happily ever after epilogue where he and Marinette kiss. In other words, the show had Adrien directly state that he's unworthy of Marinette's love and then did nothing to counter that statement. I guess this poor unfortunate soul is just lucky that Marinette likes him enough to keep him around in spite of his many failings...

Writers, seriously, what the hell are you doing? This is the kind of dialogue that should lead into a power of love moment! How is thinking about Marinette leading Adrien to despair instead of strength? Why is Plagg just accepting this? Plagg is a magical being who was assigned to watch over Adrien. Shouldn't a character like that help Adrien rally in his darkest night? Where's Adrien's you and me against the world pep talk? That should go both ways!!! Have him break out, call Ladybug to tell her that he's not coming, only for her to rally him so he comes and at least fights outside in the city while she does her solo fight! Don't leave him alone to rot while almost every other character in the freaking show gets to fight!

It would be one thing if Adrien gave up because he was alone and scared, but Plagg is there and the writers directly bring up Marinette and love only to do nothing to show those as positive forces in Adrien's life!!! Instead, Marinette is the thing that keeps him from the fight because Adrien's nightmare is him getting akumatized and killing Marinette even though Adrien knows nothing about Chat Blanc.

[Image description: Adrien's nightmare where he's a blue haired version of Chat Blanc, holding Marinette's body in his arms having killed her with a cataclysm]

To be clear, in each of the three episodes I listed above, Adrien is undeniably a victim suffering at the hands of his main abuser. They're also some of the worst moments of abuse in the entire show. It would be perfectly reasonable for a real life person to give into despair if they were put into this situation, but real life people don't transform into magical cat boys who wield the raw power of Destruction. I was not looking for realism here. I was looking for hope and inspiration!

I wanted to see Adrien win! I wanted his love for Marinette and/or his friends to give him the strength to overpower his father's control because that's what the power of love is all about! When all hope seems lost, it's there to let the hero win because love is stronger than despair, hatred, fear, and magical remote controls! It is the bright light that blasts away the darkness in your darkest night! Unless your name is Adrien Agreste, then no love for you! Suffer, feather boy, suffer!

Example of what I wanted from canon

There are many ways to fix these three episodes so love wins, but to keep this simple let's focus on Chat Blanc and what the power of love winning might look like if we let canon play unchanged up until the moment where Adrien loses control of his powers:

Hawk Moth: Cat Blanc, I'm giving you the infinite power of destruction!! Together, you and I will seize Ladybug's Miraculous and awaken your mother!!! Obey!!! Cat Noir: (tries to fight back but fails) I'm sorry, Ladybug! (He succumbs his akumatization and transforms into Cat Blanc. Ladybug watches in horror at his transformation.) Hawk Moth: Seize her Miraculous, My Son!!! (Cat Blanc lifts his right arm to Ladybug, activating Mega Cataclysm.) Ladybug: No, Adrien! You have to resist!! (Cat Blanc whimpers as he changes his mind and points his arm to Hawk Moth.) Hawk Moth: How dare you!? Not me, Adrien!! Cat Blanc: (whimpering while looking to both of them) I... I don't know what to do!!!!!!

Instead of having the mega cataclysm go off here, we instead see this: Ladybug and Hawk Moth both realize that Chat Blanc is incapable of listening to either of them. Hawk Moth's reaction is to turn and run away, desperate to save himself. Ladybug's reaction is to run to her boyfriend's side, not caring about the danger. She wraps her arms around him, closes her eyes, and tells him that it's okay. That she's here and she loves him and she'll stay here and love him no matter what. It doesn't matter who his father is, it's still him and her against the world now and forever.

The more she talks, the weaker the mega cataclysm grows. By the time she makes her final vow, the mega cataclysm is little more than a flickering glow. A black clad hand touches both of her hair ties, disintegrating them, leaving her hair to fall free around her face since that was a thing in this episode. The minor wardrobe change makes her pull back and look at her boyfriend to see that he's back to Chat Noir, a purified akumas fluttering off in the distance. Chat Noir is crying, clearly distraught, but he's himself again because Marinette's presence allowed him to focus on her love over his father's poison. They won. Love won. Fear and abuse lost.

The couple embraces. Hawk Moth's big gambit failed and they now know his identity so the fight is almost over. Paris will soon be free.

From there you can have an epic battle with the temp holders where the butterfly and the peacock are recovered. Nino gets to punch Gabriel in the face a dozen times or so as a treat and Adrien gets to cuddle up with some treats, sitting the fight out since he's already done his part by surviving the reveal of his father's identity.

You could also have Gabriel just give up because he doesn't have any moves left and the full implications of what he did are smacking him in the face, sapping him of the will to fight. Anything that lets this asshole suffer is fine by me! Emilie's fate is up to you. I like to make her at least semi-decent and revive her to give Adrien a happier ending and Gabriel the horror of divorce papers, but that's just me.

Final Thoughts

As I said at the top, I'm going to continue to complain about the way that Adrien was written in these episodes. I don't consider his victim status a reasonable excuse for the way these episodes played out. If anything, his victim status is an even bigger black mark against the writing!

I come to family-oriented media for hope and happy endings! I want stories about victims being empowered! I want Gabriel's controlling nature to totally backfire on him and not in a mutually-assured-destruction way like we saw in Chat Blanc. I want Gabriel's choice to cost him everything and for him to suffer that loss for the rest of his life while Adrien gets endless love and support, allowing him to survive the reveal and go on to live a happy life. If that's not what you're selling, then I'm not buying thus me giving up on canon after the season five final. There's just no coming back from that kind of colossal writing failure.

I will try to remember to use the word "forced" when describing the problems (as in "forced to kill"), but that's the only thing I can change while still sharing my honest opinion since my main problem with these episodes isn't Gabriel's treatment of Adrien. While I don't like how far these episodes took Gabriel, you don't need to rewrite him to make the episodes work. It doesn't matter how far the writing takes Gabriel, he should never be able to successfully manipulate Adrien while threatening Adrien's supposed True Love.

As soon as Adrien knows that Marinette/Ladybug is in danger, it should be game over for Gabriel because love is supposed to be stronger than all of the awful things that Gabriel has done up to and including the sentimonster crap. In fact, the sentimonster crap just makes it even more important for Adrien to win! Gabriel should think he has victory in the bag because he views Adrien as a perfect doll, but love proves Gabriel wrong letting Adrien overpower his amok and win. The trope is called "love conquers all" not "love conquers the mildly inconvenient." The more dire the straits, the more important the win!

Unfortunately, that's not the message Miraculous is sending. By letting Adrien give into his father's control in the show's darkest hours, the message is that Gabriel's control is stronger than love. That Adrien will never be free. That he was Gabriel's perfect doll and you were silly if you ever expected him to be more than that. That's not a message that I'm that ever going to agree with and is yet another reason why I only bring up Adrien + these three episodes when I talk about the power of love failing.

You are never going to convince me that Adrien being allowed to give into despair was a good thing unless you pair that argument with some major changes to canon like love square not being together and/or Adrien not knowing that his actions would endanger Marinette. Even then you need to design that fix in a way that ultimately allows Adrien to win otherwise you are sending a terrible message to the audience. There should never be a scenario where the final battle ends the way canon had it end.

Gabriel is the show's big bad, Adrien is his main victim, and the theme of their relationship has been control. That means that, when it comes to the final fight with Gabriel, Adrien needs to be involved in a way that gives him agency. I'm not saying he needs to fight his father on his own or even at all! I'm okay with him sitting out the fight so long as you pair it with something big like Adrien being the one to learn Gabriel's identity or something more dramatic like my simple Chat Blanc fix.

However, Adrien sitting out only works if it's his own, freely-made choice. As soon as you pair it with something like magic nightmare dust you are once again sending the message that Gabriel's control is the strongest force in Adrien's life. I truly don't understand how anyone can embrace that message and call it good, especially when canon didn't ultimately do something positive with it like letting Adrien become stronger as time went on. He actually got weaker as the show went on!

Chat Blanc saw everyone lose because Adrien was able to at least try to fight back, denying his father total victory. Ephemeral saw none of that fighting spirit and Gabriel just outright won. Season five once again saw Gabriel win only, this time, the show didn't even let Adrien be part of the fight. What an uplifting character arc for Adrien! (That was sarcasm.) Play the episodes in reverse order and you might actually have something if you add a fourth one where he finally wins!

If you want to talk about more minor conflicts where the power of love should have won then I'm happy to do that! Canon has lots of options to pick from! But unless you specify that you want to talk about something minor, these three episodes are going to be my only examples of the power of love failing because they are the only times when love completely failed the character in question. Total loss, no silver lining, writers wtf are you doing?

Listing times when love failed Marinette or Alya in the same list as these three episodes just feels insulting to Adrien unless the context is something like a list ranking the failures from smallest to largest. I'll once again point out that I don't even list the other times when love failed Adrien because my issue isn't Adrien as a person. My issue is Adrien as a tool of the narrative and the asinine message that the Agreste arc sends to the young children this show is aimed at. I wouldn't even be okay with this in a show aimed at adults unless it was clearly marketed as a grimdark take on superheroes. Miraculous should not feel like a kiddiefied version of The Boys and yet here we are.

Why was Adrien granted magical powers and allowed to fight his controlling father for five seasons if Gabriel was just going to die without Adrien getting a decisive victory? Why focus season five on Gabriel controlling Adrien to such an extreme if Adrien was never going to be allowed to break free? Why make Adrien the main love interest and focus the entire show on romantic love if you don't have anything positive to say about romantic love? Why bother getting the love square together before every single final showdown in the freaking show if their relationship status was going to mean nothing? Where is my power of love always so strong?

(Btw, that song I kept quoting is from the original English dub soundtrack to Sailor Moon R - The Promise of the Rose. It plays as love and friendship save the planet Earth from an asteroid. The updated dub replaced the song with the original Japanese soundtrack and the comments are full of people complaining about the change because the song just takes this scene to the next level! I bring this up because Sailor Moon set many people's standards for the magical girl team show genre that Miraculous is clearly taking inspiration from, but failing to fully embrace. If you don't want love and friendship to be on par with nuclear weapons and asteroid attacks, then don't write a show about love and magic aimed at kids.)

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #power of love #adrien deserves better #reference #Fingers crossed that this goes over well #Hopefully now my brain will stop obsessing over this and we can go back to business as normal #Since trying to just stop thinking about it wasn't doing the trick #Fly free my little post! The fate of the blog rests in your hands!#I'd say that you hold my sanity's fate too but that's long gone so let's not overstate your mission.#Special thanks to my partner for listening to me read this from start to finish multiple times as I obsessed over the wording #Fun fact: I read around 10 love and friendship books over my brief break #They just stoked my rage over how badly Miraculous does this trope #How dare you spit in the face of my comfort food trope!!!!!!!!#Especially when it's such an easy trope to get right #We're talking about the power of love here not a successful strategy for winning a land war in Asia

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ginevrapng · 1 year ago

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𝐈'𝐌 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃

pairing: fwb!james x reader

word count: 1.5k words

warnings and contents: for my friends with benefits james there is no smut asdfghjkl, hurt, jealousy, FLUFF

you're sitting in the great hall eating breakfast and you spot james across the hall with all the other gryffindors. you're unable to stop your lip quirk upwards as you hear his boisterous laugh, which you guess is due to some joke or prank he's retelling.

your small smile drops as you see lily evans walk up the marauders. you've never had a problem with her, she is a popular gryffindor that is friendly and works well to get top marks but the way she's walking up to the marauders, looking at james determined and with a mission, fills you with slight dread. if you were completely honest you felt she spent more time with james then necessary, especially considering how they've got their own friends and how many times she turned him down in the past.

the hall is already pretty quiet due to everyone already have eaten and a lot of people stop their conversations or lower their voices as they see lily go up to james. everyone in every house knows that's irregular. for the previous years of hogwarts james followed lily everywhere like a lost puppy always asking her out and coming up to her but he had stopped. no one knew why. it was because of you.

because the hall became so silent you heard what evans asked james and you wished the hall was louder, you wished you didn't hear, you wish you were somewhere else, anywhere else, you started to become sick as she asked james if he's free this weekend to go to hogsmeade. "i don't know, i think remus has to study but i know sirius and peter are free too. are all the other girls going?" at that moment it's hard to tell if he's actually oblivious or if he knows exactly what she's asking him but he's choosing not to answer. he has a smile on his face but even from a distance it looks a bit forced to you.

if you were anyone else you would lean to the fact he's being oblivious but you're not anyone, people always underestimate james and you have a feeling james knows exactly what she's actually asking but for some reason he's pretending that he has no clue what she means but you don't know why he'd do that. james is kind and wouldn't want to embarrass someone so publicly but at the same time you're unsure of why he'd be so sure of turning her down but the fact that he is does makes you incredibly happy, you won't tell him that though.

"oh, i don't actually know what the girls are doing. i meant just us two. like on a date?" lily asks him, not wavering at all even with what james has previously said.

james sighs under his breath. "i've got things to do, you should go with someone else."

"what about another weekend?" lily asks, hopeful and you don't blame her for that, anyone would be hopeful asking out someone who in the past asked them out every other day.

"lily, i'm sorry if i'm hurting your feelings but i don't want to go on a date with you," he tells her and you can see that he's trying to be as nice as he can be in a situation like this. no one caught on to the fact that james said that he's only sorry that he's hurt her feelings, he's not sorry for not wanting to date her though, like it's not even an option on my mind, he's not entertaining the thought about going on a date with her, you don't catch on, lily doesn't, the marauders don't, no one does.

everyone is stunned, they thought for sure he'd say yes, he has been pining after her for so long and most people just thought he started playing hard to get, giving her some distance until she recognises how much she misses him but that wasn't true at all. lily never crosses his mind anymore, why would she? he has you. you're all he thinks about. yeah at one point he fancied lily but he loves you.

after a couple beats lily replies with an, "oh, alright then. i guess i'll see you in the common room." this time it's lily that forces a smile. james doesn't respond. she has just been rejected and it's making her feel dejected, not only does james not want to go on a date with her but he doesn't want to hang out with her either. the whole time she thought this was some ploy from james to get her attention but she realised she was wrong. he has no interest in her at all.

as soon as lily's out of earshot and going out of the great hall you hear the loud voices of james' friends. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT PRONGS? DON'T YOU WANT LILY ANYMORE?"

"that was mean james, you didn't have to reject her in front of everyone."

"YOU DON'T WANT EVANS? I CAN'T BELIEVE IT. I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME. CAN I GO FOR HER?"

"i've got to say i'm surprised to prongs, i never thought you'd shut lily down like that. she really does like you and if this is some trick to get her to like you more, don't do it. she talks about you a lot."

james interrupts his friends knowing this could go on all morning and knowing that you're definitely hearing all this, worried you might be getting the wrong idea. "you can go for her pads, it's none of my business." they all look even more shocked as they hear this but he carries on, "i have no interest in lily whatsoever, yes i used to but i moved on from that. i didn't try to be mean peter but she wasn't taking a hint, i kept trying to tell her no and to let her down gently and moony honestly you shouldn't be surprised if anything it's more surprising that this hasn't happened sooner, me and lily have absolutely nothing in common and we can barely hold a conversation together that last more than ten minutes."

they're all rendered speechless at james as they realise he is 100 percent serious about this. no matter if lily chases james just like he chased her his answer will always be the same, no.

in james' eyes lily doesn't hold a candle to you.

he flicks his eye to where you're sitting and you briefly make eye contact. james was feeling in a bit of a negative mood after what happened but that immediately changed when he glances at you to see that you're already looking at him. you see a stupid grin appear on his face, uncontrolled and automatic, you quickly look down knowing that you've been caught watching him. as you're looking down you smile at the whole situation. james told lily no, and he said it so certain like nothing could change his mind. that absolutely stopped the sicky feeling you had. no one would notice you smiling as you're looking away from everyone but james knew that's what you'd be doing.

james wants to grab your face and lift it up so you're looking at each other again, he already misses your face and the colours of your eyes and it's only been a second since you've looked away from him. he wants to see your bashful smile as you try to look away from him again but he'll just place hundreds of kisses all over your face instead. he wants to desperately tell you that lily doesn't mean anything to him, you have gotten jealous on occasion due to lily even if you deny it, hopefully this might help. he wants to tell you that there's nothing to be jealous about. although you both know that he'll likely tease you about how you was "staring" at him the whole time when he turned down lily.

"what the fuck are you grinning about james?" remus asks, he seems the most annoyed with james about how he handled the situation, remus and lily are study buddies so they are actually good friends and he's known for awhile how lily has felt about james he's just always thought james still feels the same way, he thought it was mutual.

james snaps out off his thoughts of you, not wanting the marauders to question him about you. "nothing important," james replies, not looking back at you.

he hopes that he'll have the chance to talk to you today, even if it's for five minutes. maybe you'll talk about your plans for the weekend and you can try and find time to get together, maybe you'll tease him and say lily invited you to hogsmeade while you were at dinner.

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kindaasrikal · 7 days ago

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Absolutely everything in season 3 is furthering my opinion of how desensitised the ninja have become to things that are unbelievably tragic and traumatising.

That includes their reunions that i thought would be built up on in more private moments, their overall treatment of Jay’s situation, Pixal’s reaction to Zane being severely injured compared to Zane’s own lack of care as well as how likely it is he never told the others, and Lloyd’s everything, especially his ‘death’ in part 1 and the detached sadness and acceptance from having both Arin and Sora leave.

I think this is further supported by the idea that literally all of the new ninja are shown as incredibly more emotional, feeling grief and sadness more often/strongly than the others have been shown, as well as Ras’s justification for taking Jay in and making the ninja feel guilty in the tournament.

And i acknowledge the Ras was absolutely manipulating all of them collectively but he recognised the issue and knew its a sore spot but the ninja seemed really tired by the thought. Tired isn’t really the best word since i can’t think of another but it’s like the feelings hit but they’re just so used to it??

And i also acknowledge that the ninja DO feel guilt and regret and hurt and sadness, its more on the fact that they seemed to have gotten so used to it that they don’t really know what the appropriate way to react now is other than a quick ‘this is bad’ to another quick ‘this is getting better-aw man we gotta save the world.’

Its interesting to watch and see because they’ve still got their personalities, they’re still themselves beneath it all.

But its as if we’re finally seeing the actual affect of all those years of shared, continuous trauma.

It’s important to note that if the case was they all faced their trauma’s individually and didn’t actively see others suffering they’d probably actually be worse off, as people feel more safe and comfortable and at ease knowing there’s others who understand what they’ve been through. There’s also a possible setback to that though in that eventually you might place less importance or weight into the trauma you faced if you’re not told that this is still something that was bad even if others have gone through it as well. This isn’t something to be treated normally as if there was no trauma you faced, and moving on and growing doesn’t mean you become desensitised.

What worse is that people may take this and blame Wu, but it’s literally a cycle at this point. Who knows how the Fsm reacted or treated his trauma when i doubt he actually had many people he could talk to or even feel equal too. Garmadon is Garmadon obviously but the ninja haven’t been around him as often as they have with Wu, who was in the same exact position as them. Saving people constantly and sacrificing your own well being for the greater good, eventually becoming desensitised and not realising how you’ve begun to put less weight into everything that’s happened to you and therefore not as much weight onto other’s trauma as long as your alive and around them.

I mean have we ever really seen a big reaction to Wu losing his brother who he loved constantly over years? Not anymore. It’s equal to the ninja’s own reactions in the fact that they care and it hurts, but it’s mixed with a sense of familiarity.

Let’s look at it in the perspective of how they react or treat Jay’s whole situation. Reminder that i have not watched dr season 3 part 2, but i have seen some talk about it.

We all noticed how the ninja obviously do care about the situation with Jay, but they also seem so much calmer than most would think they would when handling such a situation. Not calm in the sense that they’re like ‘aww okay guess Jay’s lost his memory, we’ll fix that eventually’ but in the sense that they feel the weight of the situation on them and they’re just used to it.

And like, they are.

Imagine the weird effect that would actually have on Jay/Rogue because this guys has this trauma and its his ONLY trauma and its effecting him greatly and you have the ninja giving weirdly mixed signals.

Imagine Zane just going like “Jay, i understand what you’re going through. The pain and suffering of not knowing who you are will always haunt me like how it is you, but it doesn’t mean you cannot heal and grow into becoming someone you love.”

And Jay’s literally about to cry or crash out and then “-Anyways, i think theres a bomb in the monastery, do you wanna go fix that with me?? If not we can bake cookies instead later :D” as if he didn’t just drop the most jaw dropping advice and lore drop ever.

Man they gotta get some serious therapy the ninja might just die and act like nothing happened atp.

Season 3 part1: well.

MANNNNN this got unbearably long and it’s probably horribly written to the point I’m either completely wrong and sounds like a mess or my point just doesn’t even come across. Forgive me i have gotten lazy 🙏

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lovelynim · 3 months ago

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Fight the champion

Zenless Zone Zero - Lighter x Wise

A/N: If anything, you guys should thank @/ticklystuff for being the brain behind this fic even tho he doesn't play the game. Thanks for the idea, friend, tho I'm not sure if it was properly executed ehe

Also, I apologize in advance for how OOC Lighter may sound here, I'm still getting a grip at his character

Summary: After winning a "fight" against Wise, Lighter tries to make up for his doings

Word count: 2356 words

[Read it on Ao3]

“L-LIHIGHTEHER– AHAHAHAH, STOHOHOP IT!!”

Wise couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like this. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he was this loud. All he could feel was his head spinning, his heart beating and Lighter’s hands wreaking havoc on his skin. It tickled - it tickled as if each and every single one of his nerves were on fire, sparkling like fireworks under his skin.

Wise felt his cheeks, his stomach and even his ribs - to which Lighter’s fingers seemed to be particularly fond of - hurting from the laughter. How long has it been? Five, ten minutes? He couldn’t tell.

A tickle fight. All of this mess started with the stupid idea of starting a tickle fight against the Sons of Calydon’s champion. Wise knew he was going to lose - that was the whole point of it!

Playfully wrestling Lighter, being overpowered, tickled a little, surrendering and done. He would have Lighter on top of him, heartstruck and ready for him to act cute and pull all sorts of impure acts later… it seemed like the perfect plan, so how could it all end so wrong?

Wise pressed his head back, laughing his soul to heaven and back when Lighter’s hand moved down to his hips again. “LIGHTER, PLEHEHEASE!! I’M DYIHIHING HERE!!”

“That’s no way for a fighter to speak, manager, you shouldn’t yield just after a couple hits,” Lighter chuckled, his grip around Wise’s wrists tightening while the tickled moved back up to the proxy’s sides.

Wise’s feet had already kicked all the cushions off the couch in their aimless flailing and his throat was as dry as the soil near Blazewood. Wise lost count of how many times he asked ‘please’, tried to yield or to call uncle, but it was clear that none of those mattered for Lighter. He was a champion defending his title, after all, how could Wise expect any mercy from him?

Calling it “hysteria” wouldn’t make justice to the noises Lighter was drawing out of the proxy when his gloved hand decided to sneak under Wise’s shirt and tickle his bare skin.

Lighter raised his eyebrows at the reaction, catching a few glimpses of that forced, desperate smile on Wise’s face while he prodded between each bone of Wise’s ribcage. “It sure looks like it tickles, huh? Should’ve thought twice before picking up this fight, manager ~” He teased again, trying to get some comprehensible speech out of the other, but Wise seemed just too busy to think of anything else.

Saying he wasn’t fond of Wise’s laughter, smile and blushing cheeks would be a blatant lie. A ugly, nasty lie. And could one really blame Lighter for taking the chance when Wise started to poke his sides and stomach in the middle of their movie? If that wasn’t an invitation to ‘fight’ back, then what else would it be?

“P-PLEHEHEASE!!” Wise laughed, arching his back off the couch when Lighter shoved his hand all the way up to tickle the proxy’s armpit. “J-JUST STOHOHOP!!”

“But you’re no-” Lighter stopped, snapping back from his daydreaming and spotting the last thing he wanted to see on Wise’s face: tears. “D-damn it,” he gasped, quickly letting go of Wise’s wrists, “are you ok, manager?”

This was bad, really, really bad. He got carried away, forgetting this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Now that he thought about it, what if Wise wasn’t actually smiling just now? All that laughter was a forced reaction? One that Lighter carelessly exploited for his own amusement… My, what has he done?!

“...w-whahat?” Wise asked, taking some deep, needed breaths and letting the air back into his lungs for the first time in a while. He still had that dazzled, drunk-like look on his face, barely aware of his surroundings.

“Manager, does-” Lighter hesitated, freezing the hand that was about to reach for Wise midair. Damn it, damn it, damn it! “D-does it hurt? I didn’t- I didn’t mean to…” Of course, but what was a brute like him expecting, he thought.

This should’ve been a cute, romantic moment between couples - just like in the movie they were watching - but he ruined it and now Wise was crying!

“H-hurt?” Wise asked, slowly sitting back up and wiping the small tears of mirth off his lashes. “No, it just- just tickled. A lot, in fact, hahah,” Wise giggled, running a hand through his hair, unaware of the concern concealed behind Lighter’s glasses.

“Do sugarcoat it, manager,” Lighter furrowed his brows, taking one of Wise’s hands into his. His skin was probably sore after all the abuse from his rough hands - or, even worse, what if he broke one of Wise’s ribs while tickling him? What if all those squeezes and prods left bruises?” “I-I can help you- no, better, I can call for hel-”

“L-Lighter,” Wise giggled, stopping the other from getting up from the couch. He still found this whole situation way too amusing, even kind of cute - despite not really understanding it. “What are you talking about? I’m fine,” Wise scoffed, cocking his head to the side.

“Your body,” Lighter’s lips quivered slightly. He settled his hands down on the couch, lowering his gaze, “did I hurt you?”

“...huh?”

“You can be honest,” Lighter sighed, his fingers clenching into a fist. “When- when we were playing now and, well, I was tickling you, was I too rough? Did it hurt?”

“What? No! Lighter, I’m fine,” Wise chuckled, reaching to cup Lighter’s cheek. He removed the other’s glasses, meeting his gaze full of worry and guilt. While this seemed like the silliest of concerns for Wise, he could tell Lighter was serious about it. Dead serious.

The man sighed, his shoulders slouching as he finally relaxed a little. “...right,” Lighter reached for one of Wise’s hands, gently holding his wrist before nuzzling into his palm. “I just got carried away and thought I… I overdid it when I saw you crying.”

Wise blushed a little, taken aback by the explanation. How should he take it? Did he look so frail that Lighter thought he could hurt him with tickling? Or was it that Lighter cared so much that even tears of laughter made him worry?

“Don’t be stupid,” Wise hissed shyly, weakly pulling at his hand only to find it stuck in Lighter’s grip - again.

“Are you mad at me?” Lighter asked and, for a moment, Wise could see dripping doggy ears on top of his head. “Let me at least make it up for you, manager!”

“L-Lighter!” Wise gasped, even more flustered at the whole scene. “I-it was just tickling, a play fight. T-there’s nothing for you to make up to… I was the one who started it anyway and-”

“Then,” Lighter interrupted, leaning a little forward and bringing Wise’s hand close to his chest, “tickle me back. We would be even then, right? I promise I won’t fight you off this time!”

Wise went silent, blinking a few times while processing Lighter’s words. He, in fact, was the one who started the said fight by tickling Lighter first, but he never really planned to win it. In fact, he knew from the start it would be a losing battle - he just didn’t expect it to be that bad of a defeat.

“T-tickle you?”

“Yes, isn’t it what you wanted? Like in the movie we were watching,” Lighter nodded, with at least a part of his usual attitude seemingly recovered. “Please, manager? You are not going to leave me hanging, right?” Lighter stared at Wise with pleading eyes, bringing his hand up to his lips and planting a kiss on his knuckles. “It’s the least I can do, no?”

Wise cringed slightly, unable to take his hand away from Lighter this time. It was a cute attitude, yes, but so uncalled for… Still, how could say no when Lighter had that look on his face? “...A-alright, I’ll do it, then.”

Nearly sparkling at the mere sound of those words, Lighter reached for Wise’s with his free hand and pulled the other back down with him. The proxy couldn’t help but let out a small gasp, his hands resting on top of Lighter’s chest as he tried to support himself.

“Don’t hold back, manager. I’m a toughie, I can take it,” Lighter nodded, watching Wise steady himself on top of his lap. He crossed both arms behind his head, rolling his shirt up and bit and exposing some of his lower stomach in the process.

It was hard for Wise to not get distracted from the main task at hand. With one hand on each side of Lighter’s chest, the proxy couldn’t help but give the muscles a gentle squeeze - feeling them with just a skin tight shirt on the way felt much better than with a heavy biker jacket.

“Oi, manager,” Lighter chuckled, “that doesn’t tickle, you know?” He joked, not that he would really mind having Wise fondling with his chest, but he wouldn’t lose the chance to tease him for that either.

“Right, tickling,” Wise muttered out loud, stopping his fingers from committing any other inappropriate act. “Where are you ticklish, Lighter?”

Of all the things that just happened, this was what seemed to puzzle Lighter the most. “Dunno,” the man sighed, looking up to the ceiling as he tried to recall the last time he felt someone touching him so lightly. “On… my neck?”

Wise frowned, unsatisfied. “Just that won’t do,” he scoffed, tracing a finger down Lighter’s torso, feeling each and every one of his muscles. His eyes shifted back and forth between the other’s body and face, carefully watching him in an attempt to capture any reaction. “Do you feel anything if I do this?”

“Not sure,” Lighter said while closing his eyes, his position barely shifting if it wasn’t for his chest waving with each breath, “try a little harder, manager.”

Those words made Wise flinch, almost as if waking something inside him. Lighter still had his eyes closed, his body open to Wise, almost as if he was just about to drift to sleep. Did he trust him that much?

Still, he was already way too into it to turn down such an opportunity. “Alright,” he said, bringing his other hand into action and getting a hold onto Lighter’s waist. Wise pinched the spot, pressing his thumbs down on the soft meat and rubbing circles into the-

“Ah!”

Wise’s head shot up, looking up from Lighter’s lower stomach to his face with widened eyes. Funny enough, Lighter seemed just as surprised, almost startled by the sudden sensation. Wise smirked.

“What about now?” He said, repeating the motion and even skittering his other fingers around Lighter’s lower sides. Wise felt that massive body shift under him and his heart skip a bit at the sound he heard next.

“I-it tihihickles,” Lighter giggled, furrowing his brows and scrunching up his nose while a restrained smile took place over his lips. Lighter pressed his chin down at his chest, his elbows faltering as his instincts yelled at him to lower his arms and stop whatever was causing this.

But he listened neither to his instincts, nor to his better judgement. “It dehehefinitely does!”

“Good,” Wise nodded, moving his hands towards each other and tickling Lighter’s stomach, watching it tremble as more and more giggles spilled from his lips. “You’re quite sensitive, Lighter.”

Yes, he was. Lighter pressed his knees together, crossed one ankle over the other behind Wise’s back and even clenched his hand around his hair. One of these things had to make that growing urge to laugh more bearable, he thought. “I knohohow!”

Wise chuckled, continuing to tickle around those toned abs while deciding where he should try next. “And not only on your neck,” he teased, poking Lighter’s ribs on each side and making the man jolt with surprise before dissolving into that soft, but held-back laughter again.

“D-do yohohou lihihike it, manahahager?” He didn’t know why he insisted on speaking - maybe it was just another attempt to distract himself. Yet, for some reason, he didn’t exactly hate that feeling - maybe because Wise was the one providing it.

“Why does it matter? You won’t become less ticklish if I say I don’t, right?”

“I cohohould try!”

The proxy rolled his eyes, drilling his fingers in the spaces between each bone of Lighter’s ribcage. Exploring a Hollow seemed easier than making this man crack up. At that point, Wise would be breathless, with his heart pumping blood at the same rate as the motor in Lighter’s motorcycle.

“It’s not fair, you’re holding back,” Wise whined, pushing one of Lighter’s elbows back to claw at the exposed armpit with the other, tickling it as best as he could, “there’s no way you are just this ticklish.”

“B-buhuhut- ahAhaha, it stihill tihihickles, mahahanager!” Lighter laughed, turning his face away to avoid Wise’s gaze upon him. He felt hot around the collar and airheaded, making it even harder to think about the right words to say. Was there anything for him to say, though? Should he even say anything?

While these thoughts spiraled inside his head, the tickling slowed down, eventually coming to a total halt. Missing that swirling sensation that came from it inside his stomach, Lighter slowly opened his eyes, turning his head back to face the proxy.

“S-satisfied already, manager?”

Wise smiled, shaking his head. “It’s no use - I can’t beat the champion, even in a tickle fight,” he said with a giggle, leaning forward until he could nuzzle his nose against Lighter’s, brushing his lips over the other man’s before giving them a small peck.

“So,” Lighter sighed, finally lowering his arms and wrapping one of them around Wise’s neck. “Does this mean you forgive me? For making you cry and all?”

“Not yet,” Wise muttered, making Lighter widen his eyes. “We have to finish this movie first”, he winked and Lighter nodded, letting out a small, shaky sigh of relief. He laid his head back, turning his attention to the TV while feeling Wise rest on top of his chest.

“Of course, manager.”

#zenless zone zero #zzz #zenless zone zero tickling #zzz tickling #zzz wise #zzz lighter #lighter lorenz #lighter x wise #lighterwise #lee!lighter #ticklish!lighter #switch!lighter #ler!lighter #lee!wise #ticklish!wise #switch!wise #ler!wise #tickle fic

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wrenwreads · 2 years ago

Text

a glass... or two!

sick of seeing his little brother and their best-friend just simply ogle at each other, peter decides to take matters into his own hands.

request for @edmundpevensielover : EDMUND PEVENSIE X READER

LOTS OF FLUFF AND ED AND READER HIDE THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER MAYBE SHE (READER) GETS TRICKED BY PETER (AT THE PEVENSIES' CHRISTMAS PARTY) TO DRINK AND SHE (READER) GETS DRUNK AND MAKES OUT WITH EDMUND AND THEY PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN AND SUSAN CATCHES THEM MAKING OUT AGAIN.

pairing/s: edmund pevensie x fem!reader

warning/s: mentions of alcohol and reader being drunk a bit tipsy

genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers (or is it?)

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this has been in my requests for god knows how long, i do apologise for only getting to it now. i did change it up a bit from what anon originally requested, hope that's okay!

How do you make two obviously in love individuals realise their feelings for each other when the said two individuals are also too oblivious for their own good?

That was the same question Peter had going on in his head.

It has been too long.

Way too long since his little brother — Edmund, admitted he has feelings for Y/N — someone he has grown close to over the years, who also happens to be Edmund’s best friend since forever. Also including the fact that same Y/N did the exact same thing Edmund did, only a week later.

Some would say that Peter is in a huff. Jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he walks down the halls of the castle towards the library. A bit too niche of a topic for him to be in a huff about — but he's only human after all, and only wants happiness for the two. Gratefully, as a king, he can hide the reason behind his frustration by blaming his duties — claiming they were starting to get too much. People seem to buy it, except for two.

“Peter, are you alright? You’ve been sighing like a mad man since you sat down.”

Lucy’s question only had the young king sighing again, not missing the way Lucy and Susan shared a glance before him.

“It’s those two,” he answers, nodding towards the two figures who had seemed to tuck themselves against each other under one of the castle’s big library shelves.

Both Lucy and Susan follow Peter’s gaze, faux fatigue lacing their shoulders as they watch Y/N and Edmund share fond looks to each other as they immerse into a novel. Y/N was holding the book, conveniently keeping it up between the two of them to read. Edmund had himself stood as support for the young girl who had relaxingly rested upon his chest, his arm behind her — flat against the surface to keep his weight on, allowing both of them to stay upright.

It would be a moment for couples — only if they were one.

“Who do you think will confess first?” Lucy loudly wondered. Although, not too loud to pop the bubble Edmund and Y/N had themselves in. Peter hummed, suddenly alert as if he wasn’t just huffing a few minutes ago. His sisters looked at him, eyes waiting for him to say something.

“What? Isn’t it obvious? I’m sure Y/N will say something first.”

Susan silently scoffs, mouth opening as if someone had just offended her. “Don’t think so lowly of Edmund, would you? I know it’s going to be him.”

“Ed, do you know what colours Peter’s planning for this year?” the young woman asks as she welcomes herself into Edmund’s bedroom. Upon hearing no answer and only the sounds of water running, she assumes he’s still busy giving himself a wash. Thinking he’ll be taking a while, she sits on the four-poster — fussing herself around as she gets comfortable, crossing her legs underneath herself. Relaxing in her seat, she opens the book she had on her hold — continuing where she had left off.

Getting herself lost in the plot, she fails to realise the sound of water stopping nor the fact that Edmund had come out of the washroom and had asked a question himself. It was only when the mattress beneath her dipped did she look up from her page, seeing Edmund looking fresh — wet hair dripping all over his sheets. “You’re not laying down with wet hair, are you?” Y/N asks, eyes narrowing at the sly smile growing on Edmund’s face. “No.” he simply answered, further provoking her as he slowly ascends on to his pillows.

Y/N only sighs, rolling her eyes as she stands up from her position to grab the stray towel the boy had half-mindedly discarded. “Come on,” she says, tapping his thigh lightly, “this way you won’t be waking up tomorrow, complaining about a mind-blowing head ache you have.”

Edmund scoffs at her dramatics, swinging his legs off to the edge of the bed. Y/N settles herself between his thighs, hands under the towel as she carefully dries Edmund’s hair.

He sighs, eyes closing and his hands making its way to her waist. He keeps them there, finding himself getting drowsy at the feeling of Y/N’s fingers through his hair and the soft humming she emits. “I like it when you dry my hair for me,” he whispers, eyes still closed. Y/N laughs softly, giving his hair once last swipe before putting the towel aside. Combing the strands lightly, she finishes her routine with a soft kiss to his head. “I know you do.”

“You’ve really outdone yourself this year, Pete! The party’s amazing!”

Peter laughs, amused at the unnecessary volume Y/N spoke. “I can hear you perfectly you know. No need to shout,” he teases, laughing again at the pout forming on her lips. “Do you know where Edmund went?! I’ve been looking for him all night, I have something to say to him!”

His eyes widen at the girl’s question. Could this finally be it?

As if on cue, Edmund presents himself — although a bit tipsy himself, not as much as Y/N is though. “What’s going on?”

“Ed!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around Edmund’s torso. The boy manages to catch himself from falling, giggling to himself as he too reciprocates the hug. “Oh dear, how many have you had?”

Y/N removed herself from Edmund, hands on her hips as she appears to be deep in thought. Edmund looks at his brother for an answer, only that Peter remains silent. Raising his arms halfway up in the air feigning innocence. She suddenly gasps in her place, quickly spinning around to face Peter. “You gave me two! And then… I think I grabbed another two. And maybe… Idunnoanymore, Ithink…” her words began slurring into each other, earning a chuckle from both brothers. Edmund feels himself slowly sobering up at her antics, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. “It’s bed time, don’t you think?”

“No… nonono, notyet—”

Peter remains silent from where he had stood himself, not before moving a little further away from where the pair were standing. He watches as Edmund remains calm, a dopy smile on his face as he dotes on you and your blabbing. He mentally pats himself on the back, triumph enveloping him as he hopes his initial plan of getting you together (finally) happens.

“Come on, my love, just a few more steps…” Edmund encourages, guiding his very drunk girlfriend back to his bedroom in one piece.

One day he’ll get Peter’s head for this.

As soon as the door opens — Y/N escapes Edmund’s grasp, almost catapulting herself onto the bed. She relaxes herself, taking a few deep breaths in before sitting back up. “Do you think… they know?” she hiccups, eyes barely open to look at Edmund.

Edmund feels his heart swell at the sight, his eyes giving nothing but love as he slowly helps Y/N get ready for bed. “I don’t think so,” he begins, wiping a damp wash cloth over her face – a hand gingerly placed under her chin to keep her from swaying. “But I do think Peter wants us to quicken up a bit, be together officially. Maybe that’s why he gave you too many to drink.”

She lets out a small huff, a pout on her lips. “But we already are together, Ed. It’s not our fault they remain oblivious.”

“I know, my love. What about we tell them tomorrow? How does that sound? Surprise them during breakfast, hm?”

Y/N laughs, a sound never failing to sound like music to Edmund’s ears. “That’s… good…” yawns break her words apart. Edmund slowly guides her to lay down, ensuring his actions are not too sudden for her to suddenly feel nauseous. “Let’s go to bed then, now, shall we?”

Not even finished with his sentence and Y/N’s were already closed, hands tugging onto the blankets to snuggle herself in further. Edmund smiles, standing up from where he perched onto the edge of the bed to now get himself ready. Right as he enters the washroom, a question is suddenly asked.

“Ed, are you even drunk?”

He just laughs, not having the heart yet to tell you that he had caught on to Peter’s game very early on to the night. Not that he can for your soft snores had followed your question aright after.

thank you so much for reading until the end! as always, leave your thoughts/comments - i love reading them. constructive criticism is appreciated! •.˚⚘ ⋆.*.ゞ

#edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #the chronicles of narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x y/n #edmund pevensie one shot #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund pevensie fanfiction #king edmund the just #edmund pevensie ff #wrenwritesed #wrenwrites #wrenwritesnarnia

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