#i will study and ill go strong and ill fight for each of these people until my last breath | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

apollos-boyfriend · 1 year ago

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im writing an au that is supposed to include everyone in the dsmp. but i am a humble enjoyer and dont know about lots of characters, purpled included. can i get a guidebook to writing cpurpled? any tropes to avoid, motivations you see people getting wrong, etc?

okay so. purpled is Interesting bc there's a lot of depth to his character in the sense that he himself is not self-aware of his own actions/wants, making for there being three purpleds: the purpled that he shows to others, the purpled he feels he is, and the true purpled he himself isn't even fully aware of. and depending on how deep you wanna explore into his character, that third one likely won't even come into play, because that is more of an instance of a character study/purpled-centric piece, but i'll go over it anyways, just in case! splitting this into parts below the cut to make categorizing things a bit easier :]

first, the basics:

purpled has a very. unique way of talking. in serious moments, he's calm, collected, and intimidating, and will act like you'd expect a broody teenaged mercenary to. most of the time, though, his speech pattern is the world's most ungodly mixture of teenage boy and starving victorian orphan.

in fight or flight, he chooses fight 100% of the time, even if that fight is not immediate.

purpled only cares about a handful of things: self-preservation, his image, and money. this doesn't necessarily mean he won't do "good" things, just that his motives are less about saving people and more about advancing his own agenda. during the red banquet, for example, he only saved the attendants because he was paid to. eret called him a hero for it, but it was nothing more than a matter of who paid more. his morals are extremely skewed,

but he's not inherently malicious. he's indifferent. his actions are logical, not emotional, so despite harming others for his own gain, he typically holds no ill-will towards them. for example, the wiki cites that he and bad have a negative relationship for betraying the eggpire during the banquet, but in reality, purpled really doesn't see bad in anything but a neutral way. there are very few people he holds either positive or negative emotions towards, as his default state is indifferent, but willing to go along with the other person's emotions if they pay enough.

the only people he does feel a semblance of strong emotions towards are: hannah, boomer, ponk, tubbo, jack, and quackity. he has positive personal relationships with hannah, boomer, ponk, and tubbo, seeing them as genuine friends. additionally, ponk, tubbo, and jack are fellow businessmen, which he very much admires. quackity, of course, is the one person on the list he has overtly negative feelings towards, something that possibly extended towards slime after the ln finale, as well. he has an Odd relationship with tommy in the sense that they're somewhat rivals, but not in the usual fandom sense where "oh they secretly care about each other because they're sworn rivals". purpled would sell tommy to satan for a single cornchip and not even blink. there's also dogchamp, his dog, which is i think the one True attachment he's ever had on the server.

business is very important to him! purpled only really cares to talk to people who he sees on a similar intellectual level as him, and business is the closest way to his heart, as seen with his relationship with ponk.

anyone he doesn't see on his level is "lesser". this is specifically highlighted with his viewpoint on slime, as he sees slime as nothing but a child who can't fend for himself and has to rely on quackity for everything. this viewpoint is, obviously, extremely untrue, because purpled is an unreliable narrator in every sense of the word.

he's very smart and extremely capable. if he sets his mind to something, he Will accomplish it through any means necessary, even at the cost of others.

he is also. just sillie. at least around those he trusts or is pretending to allow to get close to him (like fundy in ln). he pulls stupid pranks for stupid prizes. he's just a boy that really loves his dog. he's the server's strongest warrior yet he runs screaming from boomer because they threatened to child-leash him. do not be afraid to make him a freak (because trust me he Is one)

some deeper stuff! all of these things are unspoken, and things he himself is not aware of. a dive into his subconscious thoughts, if you will. if you're writing something deeper with him, these are things i recommend alluding towards/highlighting, but in a sense that only the audience is aware of. they're not things that should be Explicitly Stated, at least not by him/his pov. purpled has little to no true self-awareness, and when he does have moments of introspection, he Still manages to fuck that up, which i'll be getting into

purpled does not really feel any negative emotions other than rage and spite. or, more accurately, he doesn't let himself feel anything other than rage or spite. when lamenting about his loneliness on the server, he immediately spins it into a revenge plot, believing it'll be solved as soon as he gets his just desserts. he does feel and process positive emotions, it's just negative ones he pushes aside for the sake of anger.

this is because, inherently, purpled does not believe he is in the wrong. ever. everything is always the fault of others, which is why he results to anger, because that's what happens when he pushes blame onto other people. he doesn't ever accept that his actions can be detrimental to himself, and that his issues are always the fault of others. for example, he believes that the reason his legacy on the server was "ruined" was because of quackity's intervention. while quackity's destruction of his ufo certainly didn't help, purpled's core issue was himself. his own self-isolation is what started the downfall of his legacy, and his continued isolation is what sealed its fate.

his inability to process his true emotions/wants makes him very prone to self-sabotage, although he believes the path he chooses is the right one. due to quackity's intervention, he believes that he wants a legacy to have power and to be remembered. when he laid out his issues, however, his biggest hang-up was that "if he asked people on the server to name three things about him, none of them could". deep down, what he wanted was a sense of connection, of building a legacy through the bonds formed with others, but he was unable to realize that.

he's so fucking stupid. all of this is me trying to say he's a fucking idiot. he has the emotional capacity of a pet rock with angry eyebrows drawn onto it. he's hypocritical and not even aware of it. i don't think he has the emotional ability to know what hypocrisy is.

the most important thing, though, is to not woobify him into the "manipulated minors" trope. purpled was not manipulated, and although his age plays into the tragedy of his character on a meta-level, it has no true importance to his actions/story. and although i gush about him a lot, and there are reasons to why he acts the way he does, he is not a good person. i can explain why he does what he does all i want, but at his core he is flawed and antagonistic. that's what makes him so good!! he is not a good person, he knows he's not a good person, and unless he's purposefully playing that role in order to deceive someone, he doesn't pretend to be one, and is up-front with others about that fact.

#muse talk #cellburs #oh my god i'm so sorry i just realized how long this is.......#im so fuckign unwell #i have a Lot more cpurpled analysis laying around on my blog somewhere if u need more info!#i think it should be under 'midnight analysis'?#long story short. he's emotionally inept. he does not realize this fact. this is the catalyst to Every Issue He Ever Has #and also the reason he Never Fucking Wins #if u have any more specific questions i'd be happy to answer!!#i. really hope this is comprehensible

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hebimoonlightwrites · 1 year ago

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hello there dear! i’m new to tumblr, and i never knew there were such sweet people like you writing wonderful scenarios w/ hypnosis mic characters for everyone! as i was reading through your content, i could tell through your writing that you are very passionate about writing, and you seem like a very kind individual!

i really liked the kind of request that neru-anon requested, i hope its ok if i try this as well! ill try to keep everything brief, as im not a super interesting person to begin with- Σ੧(❛□❛✿)

my name is ryusei, which contains the kanji for flow, 流 and star, 星. i go by she/they (whichever is fine!) and i’m currently 20, and studying music and psychology! im a rather quiet person, but i’ll always be willing to lend an ear if anyone wants to chat/vent! i’m very overprotective in a way thats not too conspicuous, and very loyal to anyone who calls me their friend. in contrast to that, i can hold myself well in a fight, and i’m surprisingly physically strong, but just get tired super quickly… (my stamina is… well… not good) i like smiling, but it’s difficult to express my facial emotions well, so i usually wear a mask in public. i’m an adaptable person, but i get overwhelmed easily, especially when there are too many numbers… i have asd, bpd, and ocd, and there was a point in my teenage years where that severely impacted my social life and academics, so i always like to keep my guard up, but i like to talk a lot so i end up saying too much sometimes-! i have a couple friends, but i’m not a “people person” i guess.

i enjoy listening to a wide range of music and i really love artists like Atarashii Gakko!, 周深 (his voice is so soothing!), (G)I-DLE, Ichiko Aoba, vocaloid, and Hypmic music! you can check them out if you’d like, they’re all very talented musicians/singers!

i’d rather not go into my family affairs too much, as my parents don’t have a healthy relationship with each other which affected my brother and i, so we don’t talk much now. but my younger brother (as chaotic as he may be) is important to me.

i won’t go into my panic attacks too much as i know this topic may be triggering for some people, but they’re usually hard to spot, and people other than me usually can’t tell because of my quietness.

i really like cats! i’d like to own one myself in the future, maybe when i can take care of myself better ヽ(；▽；)ノ i visit cat cafes when i visit japan sometimes, although im not as fluent as a local, its enough for me to book time slots for cat cafes at least!

when i’m in a bad mood, i lash out and break down easily at people, so i have a tendency to self isolate sometimes.

i like… a lot of foods! i don’t like fruit, insects (both in food and in general),and extravagant stuff though… i like coffee with loads of sugar… haha… i dont get drunk easily but im not too fond of alcohol… maybe cocktails but not super bitter stuff. i can withstand smoke but i don’t smoke myself.

i don’t care too much about clothing, but i want to look presentable at least. i do like cute clothes, but i usually go with super minimalistic/vintage clothes.

i like kind people! i strive to be kind myself! i want to be able to mutually help each other with our problems! i have the power to be able to help others, and honestly helping other people is easier than figuring out what to do with my own problems. unconditional love is important to me. i have problems with self confidence, and i’m also pretty hard to read, so someone who could really understand that would be nice. my love language is… physical contact i think? i like hugging and jumping around and stuff, but i dont do that much cause im paranoid about bothering people. i like affection a lot!! i didn’t have a super affectionate family, but i like people who show they care through their actions (and sometimes maybe words?) i would honestly offer everything i have for someone who would genuinely love me, but i doubt even someone in the hypmic cast would be interested… (´；Д；`)

thank you for reading all this stuff hebi! please take care! its a bit late where i am, so i’m going to head to sleep. goodnight hebi! (_ _).｡o○

(sorry for any spelling errors TT)

Writer's corner: Hey, sweetheart! Thank you for requesting for this kind of request! I honestly really like playing Cupid's role, haha!♥ Of course the following is only mu thoughts and headcanons, so don't feel forced to think just like I do, okee~? Also, I don't know who are your favourite characters or if there's any you dislike qwq In case i chose one you don't like, please, text me so I can change him to the "second" or the "third" choice at the bottom of this post, okee? Plus, sweetheart, please let me know if there's any mistake♥ Enjoy~♥

Warnings: nothing~ safe here~

⭐𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬/𝐨⭐

⭐Hey, sweetheart! I'm thankful for all the sweet words you told me.. qwq♥ I'm so glad that you do enjoy my writings, as I always try to do my best. My main mission is to bring a smile to people's faces, so I do hope this will bring a smile to yours as well!♥

⭐First of all I wanted to tell you that you seem a nice and amazing person, so there's not really need to be that unconfident, especially when it comes to physical affection! It's true that there are people who are introverted and maybe against PDA (like me, oof..), but as an introverted I can tell that people like you- who likes affection, hugging, smiling- are very appreciated. You can literally cheer people around you up and this is so powerful!♥ As I read your description, I don't hide the fact that I immediately thought about Matenrou and Fling Posse bois; On one hand things about you like studying psychology, being kind of unconfident, dreaming about getting some physical affection, getting easily overwhelmed and getting silent panic attacks really made me think about Matenrou and, in particular, about Doppo somehow..♥ On the other hand things like wearing minimalistic/vintage cute clothes, enjoying music, liking affection and jumping around, being a good listener, liking cats and being actually a trustful and loyal friend made me think about Fling Posse and their friendship, but especially to Gentaro and Ramuda, somehow♥ The fact that you do care a lot about your brother, the fact that you prefer helping others and try your best to be a good person, and especially, though, the fact that you are unconfident or maybe simply do not realize how nice you truly are.. well.. These things really bring me to think that you could kin Doppo- along with Gentaro and Ramuda-, somehow! BUT, we are here to find your other-half, and this isn't surely Doppo, since I do believe he is not that type of man pro to PDA and gets easily flustered.. (but.. who knows? He could get a crush on you~). Plus he's 29, so... ugh.. I know age isn't important in a couple and that love can be for everyone, but we need someone more...! We need someone who would be there for you, who would easily understand you- since you specifically said that you're "hard to be read"- and who's going to love you unconditionally. Someone who would show his affection towards you without any hesitation and problem! Someone who has interests similar to yours maybe.. who does enjoy music a lot, who enjoy food and who's protective of the ones he holds dear! Someone who can understad you fully and maybe even being that good of a partner who'd be able to get the moment when you're silently having a panic attack..

⭐..Okay.. I got my results~

⭐So.. (unless you don't like gambling..).. I feel like Dice would be a perfect first choice! We're literally talking about someone who seems dumb as f##, but it's canon that he has some serious and deep thinking moments, especially when he's alone. He looks dumb, but he's not at all. Just like you, Dice does enjoy music, as he tries to create some using "instruments" like grass or empty cans- even if it's said that he can play piano and violin, oof. Just like you, he does care a lot about his friends and he's even protective of the ones he holds dear. Dice loves his friends unconditionally- even if some could think that he's Gentaro's friend because he owes him money, Dice does actually care about him too. Plus, if he gamble, that means that he has a "not-toxic" relationship with numbers! (jk, Ryusei♥ *hugs*)

⭐So I'm sure that through his energetic and dumb-apparent look, he would be the best of a partner for you! You with your stable-life and him with his risky-life would be the perfect yin and yang. I can already imagine him randomly hugging you or simply poking your face as he notices that your mind is overthinking.. he would get that maybe you're starting to panic silently and would whisper: "Hey... u okay?", with a reassuring smile. After meeting your eyes he would simply open his arms to hug you, especially if he's certain that you need affection. Dice would try his best to cheer you up, especially when he feels like you're having a "no"-day. I can even imagine you both petting stray cats or him visiting you and holding one of your school books like: "Daaaaamn.. how can you even understand all of this?!.. It feels like blabbering!", playing the fool part only to make you chuckle. Even so, he would show how proud he is of you and how much he does really admire you. "How can you be so smart to understand that blabbering?!", Dice would exclaim only to hear your chuckle again. "I.. I like your chuckle, y'know? It's.. cute.."

⭐About the others Fling Posse's and Matenrou's members, well.. ⭐Jakurai: He could be a kind uncle/father to you. Since he's a doctor he could really take care of your "no"-moments, even also hugging you, why not? Plus I'm 100% sure he would be so proud of you for studying psychology! You're going to be one of his work colleague, one of the most amazing one, actually!♥ ⭐Hifumi: Except for those times his fear for women would be evident, he would show his support to you just as much as he does with Doppo! Hifumi is a kind-hearted man so he'd be energetic enough to drive you to be the same and you both would be great friends for sure! After some time, though, I think he would start to learn to "read" you, because he already did it with Doppo~♥ ⭐Doppo: I feel like you could kin him, as I said before. Doppo is the one who paradoxically would tell you stuff like "W-what?! But.. you're amazing, Ryusei! Don't you ever think otherwise. You cannot understand how great you are?!".. I mean.. bruh, you're just like her! But I feel like he would even usually vent in your presence or inviting you to get some coffee together, why not?♥ ⭐Ramuda: Oh... ohhh. Ramuda would be the best at showing his affection towards you, especially now that you're officially a posse~! He would jump around and hug you randomly, but I feel like you would also be there noticing his "no"-moments too♥ ⭐Gentaro: You would have a calm but intellectual relationship with him. Both of you would go to the café, wearing vintage clothes and I feel like Gentaro would appreciate your company, as your dressing style seems similar to his one. He's also a good listener, just like you, so I feel like you could even take a chance to talk to him. He would give you his "honest" advices... oof♥

Top three results:

⭐1- Dice

⭐2- Ramuda

⭐3-Doppo

©hebimoonlightwrites_tumblr Please, do not copy my contents nor repost it without my permission.

#who would be your s/o #hypnosis microphone #hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis microphone fling posse #hypmic fling posse #hypnosis mic fling posse #hypnosis microphone matenro #hypmic matenro #hypmic matenrou #hypnosis mic matenrou #fling posse #matenrou #doppo kannonzaka #hifumi izanami #jinguji jakurai #ramuda amemura #dice arisugawa #gentaro yumeno

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ariadnasdiary · 1 year ago

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Diatober - Day 12: Mother/Father

Mun Ari: jk! xD

Here are some headcanons about Ari's parents:

Let's remember their names: Daisuke Koizumi and Morena Martínez

Daisuke is Japanese but has been living since he was "3 years old" in Mexico. He came from Japan with his mother Aura Koizumi and older brother Kai.

Daisuke is a full blood founder and he escaped with his family from Japan, but specifically from the Makai.

I'll tell the story next in Diatober prompt "haunting" before they could be sentenced to death due to their parents crime. They were the product of an adventure between his father Carsten Kobayashi (a married man) and Aura.

They flee just in time before being killed and the begging of Endzeit's epidemic (and the fall of the Founder's realm basically)

Now! Back to Daisuke and Morena: they met while Morena worked in a local cafeteria where she was college of Kai. Kai wanted to present Morena to Daisuke, but she didn't take him seriously.

Morena was 18 when she met Daisuke and he was "21". Daisuke feel in love at first sight for Morena, while she wasn't THAT impressed (Kai was more her type because he was taller lol).

Daisuke tried to conquered her with gifts and taking her everywhere he could think of. Morena belonged to a middle-lower class while Daisuke was more of the middle-upper class.

He had a great job, almost finished with college and had a car (this happened in the 80's-90's) which was impressive.

Yet Morena wasn't an easy catch~ and Daisuke liked that~ (could say it stimulated his predator nature~). And took him 2 years to get her to date him 🤭.

They dated for 2 years and finally married! They married young: she was 22 and he was "25".

A year later they had Akane and 2 years after that Ariadna was born.

Let me describe now this two as individuals, while dating and as parents~

Daisuke is generally described as: charming, funny, hard working, responsible, patient, love language gift giver, witty, good negotiator, ambitious and overall mysterious. He never told his wife about his nature not even to his daughters. As a father, he sadly was absent: he became a workaholic and spent of the time traveling to attend his various businesses. He never failed to provide, but Morena was left with the raising by herself. He was closer to Ariadna. He became even more absent and distant when he visited his brother Kai and caught the Endzeit from him. Kai didn't survived and now Daisuke had his days counted due to the illness that he perfectly knew took the lives of his people and had no cure apparently. So he went to Japan (Makai) to find it, which caused as a result Ari looking for him and... well she ended up where we are now~. Finally, he always told his story and his roots through "fairytales" to his daughter and Ari didn’t fully get it until she met the Tsukinami (on the tiny note and as you saw in the previous post: Ari is technically a long lost cousin to them 🙊)

Now Morena: a sweet yet strong lady. She was cautious, social and nice. She did study a career, but always wanted to be a housewife, which she did. As a mother she was in charge to raise her daughter by herself. She was highly efficient, responsible, understanding and wise. Not to mention she was very loving and a perfect balance of strict and easy going. She was closer to Akane, but always tried to approached Ari. She is a great mother and always knew how to motivate and love each one of her daughters. It's sad to think that it was due to a discussion/fight that she lost Ari when she escaped home to look for her father. They didn't deserve to end things like that and I really don’t like to think what happened to Morena after she lost both her husband and youngest daughter... is so heartbreaking 💔 🥺.

Daisuke appearance: brown hair, he dyed it at certain point to add some strands of Grey hair in order to hide his immortality and show time "did" passed on him. He was really handsome, he wasn't tall: 1.54 m (did you see that coming?), striking gold eyes and white skin.

Morena's appearance: long brown hair, white skin more like beige(?, dark brown eyes, 1.56 m (also not too tall, but lucky for Ari she got her height lol), a sweet smile, she was slightly chubby after becoming a mom and she had a great sense of style~ she was very feminine and had a good taste overall 🥰.

*Note: pictures aren't mine, I got them just for illustrative reasons and I got them from Pinterest

#ariadnasdiary #ariadna koizumi martínez #headcanon #diatober 2023 #mun ari speaks #diabolik lovers latino #diabolik lovers oc

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shivunin · 2 years ago

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👻 and 📝 for the ask game?? 👀

Thank you for asking, Zen!! c:

(WiP asks)

👻Is there a scene that you find intimidating that you have yet to write?

This is hard to answer because...if I know what a scene is going to be ahead of time, it's usually because I'm about to write it haha (my outlining is extremely vague).

But! I will say that there is a very big and complex battle sequence at the end of my arranged marriage au and I'm a bit nervous for it. If there's ever fighting in a book, I skim until something else is happening and I'm almost never paying attention to battle sequences in movies. There are a lot of moving parts to this particular scene because there are several factions at play with a variety of fighting styles, and there are lots of emotional undercurrents at play, so that adds to the stress. I also feel I struggle with writing fights in a compelling way (again, because they aren't my favorite) so it's...challenging in a good way but also intimidating to know I will need to write one for this.

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

Predictably, I could not choose one (story of my life lol) so have two instead c:

“Hello,” Elowen said quietly, and took a step forward. The other her did not move; she stood still instead and faced straight ahead, as if disinterested in the entire process.

“Alright,” she said, circling this other self for a moment, “Alright, then. This is…good. I want this again, please.”

The weight of her hair settled onto her neck again and Elowen shook her hands out, as if dismissing a sudden numbness.

“I want—ah. Variations on this, please? Something a little closer,” she said, looking up, and after a moment dozens of versions of herself materialized from the darkness, an army of lookalikes minutely different from each other.

The sight of them should have been unnerving; it should have been terrifying. Instead, Elowen felt a laugh bubble up from her throat as she turned and took them all in. So many of them—so many people she might have been, with only a few small changes. They could have been her sisters, her family.

They could be her.

“There—you,” she said after a moment, pointing into the crowd, and all at once a great weight lifted.

Elowen laughed, surprised, and laughed again, stroking the soft ends of her hair where they stuck up at the back of her head. She even spun, alone again in that ink-black room, and gloried in the feeling of nothing spinning around behind her.

She’d thought she would feel curiously bare, too light, vulnerable—but instead she felt strong. Strong and…and free.

and (a codex entry from the arranged marriage au, The Red Crossing Arrangement):

“Harajatish Oravana and Duchess Caitrin Arbuthnot, 6:25 Steel:

To date, the Duchess is the only human bride of the Compact to choose to return to the elven homeland after marriage. Thus, due to the secrecy of the elven people, little is known of either participant, save that they seemed reasonably happy during all the attendant ceremonies. Neither attended the next Compact ceremonies, though the letter they sent claimed an illness in the family that did not allow them to travel.

Regardless of official information, there is a famous elven ballad first heard sometime after 6:28 Steel about a lady with “hair aflame” who raced twelve score halla on horseback and won. In the ballad, her lover waited for her beneath a great “fall of sighs” and she raced on because she was desperate to join him there. Romantic twaddle, some might say, but this archivist disagrees.

Duchess Caitrin was, after all, known for both her red hair and her horsemanship.” —From The Girl From Red Crossing: A Study of the Couples of the Compact, by Mother Petrice, originally published in 9:35 Dragon

#ask game #elowen lavellan #my writing #the red crossing arrangement #thanks for asking c: i had to think about the scene one for longer than i would have thought #because themes are what i am struggling with currently!

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danidanialsblog · 1 year ago

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ofmoonlitmagic · 7 months ago

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Where’d you go, baby? The question struck something deep in his bones, and he desperately wanted to avoid it, not answer it, but that was never an option. Not with his beloved wife. They shared everything. "I was just...remembering," he murmured, clinging onto her form as he took comfort in her fingers laced through his hair. "It doesn't usually come back to me like that, but I--I dunno, it just did." He took a breath, as deep as he could though it shook. None of this would ever be her fault, that blame belonged to the OEA, and he knew if she could have stayed, she would have. "It was more of that night I've gotten back in a long time. I don't want to live there, though, I don't want to look for the next thing that can take you from me. That's not--we got something back that people don't get back. I'm sorry, I know you can feel when I get tense, how I feel it. How I always feel it. But I'm going to be okay." Leaning down to press his forehead to hers, he murmured, "I got to marry you, didn't I? We got lots of lifetime left again."

To walk a world without her, it felt like a unique experience. He wondered if everyone felt that way: like they were the only person who'd ever lost a piece of themselves, like they wanted to scream 'but you don't understand, she was mine!' My person, my love, my life. After that, he could push forward through anything. How he made it two years was still something of a mystery, but he did. He didn't have to anymore, though, he had to remember that as much as anything. Each time fear would rise up, she would meet his gaze, bring her hands to his jaw or the nape of his neck, and it would all settle again. Every moment with her healed him a little more.

"I think you might get luckier before the night's over," he joked, as the moment proved the very same point. Every little touch, every laugh, every soft word, they brought him a little closer to whole again. "You remind me of that pretty often, must be true." He fought for the light tone, while the genuineness of it lingered within each syllable. "You're my best thing."

As he swept her off her feet, laughter returned readily to them, and for that beautiful moment, they were the most normal newlyweds that could be--his speed notwithstanding. The rest of their lives could be filled with this joy, and it would be. He'd give her some every single day. That was his vow as her husband.

Easily guided between her legs, he remained as long as possible in the light-hearted nature of the conversation, but they couldn't dance around this forever. "I don't like you seeing the look," he muttered, fighting the urge to take the question back. As if he even could. "And you're not--I'm just worried, you've not done anything wrong."

He didn't want to know, and she didn't want to say. But they had to, he had to ask the questions. There was so much about his wife's powers he didn't know, and he wanted to be able to share in that with her, whatever she was willing to share. They were one. As she mentioned the gala, he nodded, remembering back to seeing her. There was more blood than from her ears and a look on her face. One he didn't intend to revisit. Listening to the explanation, he asked softly in order to try to understand, "so you gave her one of your visions, in a way?" She was as strong as it gets, and he knew there was probably more power there than even she had tapped into and how scary that could be, especially to share it aloud. He didn't take a second of this for granted. "I do know what this is, something similar happens to witches if we overexert ourselves. You can't go 0 to 100. We need to find a way to train the power. I bet Mom has some texts on banshees, we can study up on it. Together."

He couldn't be sure she hadn't learned this in the years between, but in his gut, he knew the OEA had forced it out of her. Experimented on her like a lab animal until she was pretty much killed by her own power, it made him feel ill, skin crawling with an renewed hatred for that damned organization. He could still remember how vacant her eyes had look, even as they filled with love upon seeing him, and he swore, she would never go back there. "What was the brother's name? We can maybe find her through him." As he continued to gently dab at the blood, he met her gaze and swore, "I'm never going to let them take you again. What they've done, what they did to you, they're going to pay for it." That wasn't what she needed tonight, some righteous anger from a wound-up hybrid, so he exhaled it forcefully and found a sense of calm. "Does it bring it back? When you use your powers?"

Billie's brow furrowed through her concern and she lifted her hand to rest at the nape of his neck, embedding her fingers into his hair as his gaze returned to hers. A terrified part of her didn’t dare ask, but there was a stronger, more willing part that had to “where’d you go, baby?” although she feared that she already knew. Knowing that she couldn’t spare him from this was tormenting in its own right and it hurt, causing an ache from deep within that she couldn’t rid herself of. Her chest tightened as he winced and the sound of his voice caused for her eyes to sting as she answered him, “I won’t – I won’t. I promise” and her hand reached for his again, interlocking their fingers as she stated firmly “i’ll be okay. We've got a whole lifetime together."

All she could do within moments like these was prove that she was there – to stay close and to comfort him however she could. They had always used physical touch as a way of exhibiting their affection, but now it seemed more important than ever. Billie began to relax as his breaths became steadier and his focus returned to her, the rest of the world simply fading away for now. Lifting herself up onto her tiptoes, she leaned her forehead into his, a smile gracing her lips as she hummed, “me too” never having felt safer than she did as he enclosed his arms around her.

For her, death had been easy. She had found the person that she loved most in this world and he held her, he comforted her, and caressed her cheeks and her hair and told her that she would be okay – and in the end of it all, she was. Her eyes had closed and for her, she had simply drifted off to asleep and as far as she could recall, in those two years since her death – she had been content and safe, resting, until he had called for her again. Their experiences of her death couldn’t have been further apart. Whilst she had found peace, his had been taken. She could see that in his eyes, in the way that they never left her, through fear that if they did – she might just disappear in front of him. For that, she didn’t know how to reassure him. To heal him.

There was no greater gift than to be seen by him, to be truly seen and loved for everything that she was. “I guess that makes me the luckiest woman alive” she mused, her words communicating sincerity with each offering. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me – don’t ever forget that. I’m in awe of you, of everything that you are.”

Billie’s fingers rose to rest against his jaw, each brush of her fingertips delicate as she leaned further into the kiss, humming softly and becoming lost within it. Her body was as ever – response to his, each movement accommodating one another, before their embrace came to its end. His wave and the cheeky smile that she adored so much coaxed laughter from her lips, “it’s true, we did” she chimed, peeking over at the family and offering a little two finger salute of her own before wrapping her arms around his neck as he swept her into his arms.

As Briggs returned to the bathroom, Billie shuffled back atop of the counter, making space for him to stand between her legs as she gently tugged on the material of his shirt to guide him closer. A fleeting smile then played upon the corners of her lips given his quip and she mustered every ounce of strength to tease “noted”, but even she couldn’t keep hold of the light-hearted tone; now painfully aware of the shift in atmosphere. “I don’t like being the cause of that look” she breathed, feeling tension surge through her frame as he asked the question she had since anticipated.

Her lips parted to speak, but she wasn’t sure how to give him an answer that would satisfy, she wanted to lead with whatever reassurance she could, but whether it was sometimes or all of the time – nothing would reassure. Eventually, she found the words. “It happened at the gala and – with that hunter too.” Releasing a shaky breath she began to elaborate “it was different from what happened tonight, though. It was like she was terrified, or – grieving, I guess. I made her see something. A relative, her brother maybe? She kept calling out his name and I think I made her believe that he was – dead.“ A sharp breath urged from her lungs, remembering the look on Laine’s face as clearly as if she was standing ahead of her now “I made her see it or live it. Whatever I did it happened then too. It doesn't hurt or anything, it just -- happens."

#( thread | billie mikaelson. )#( billie 011. )#( briggs & billie. )#// I DON'T KNOW. I'VE LOST ALL CONTROL

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givemea-dam-break · 3 years ago

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hey i saw ur angst prompt list, and i wanted to try requesting for one of them! do you think you do #34 with reyna from pjo? ur writing is sick btw!

a/n: of course i can, and thank you so much! i'm glad you enjoy it :) i am so sorry it has taken to long to come out, and i'm sorry it's quite short, too, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless

Warnings: injury, blood Words: 1K Prompts: "You're trembling." Gender-neutral reader

Blood. There's so much blood. It's staining everything: your hands, the beds, the bandages. Everything. Gods, there's way too much of it. Usually, it doesn't bother you, but it won't stop. More and more injured bodies keep flooding in, each with varying severity of wounds. You press a compress on the spear wound of the demigod before you. It soon becomes soaked with crimson, leaking onto your hand as you press it even more firmly as your partner tries to wrap a bandage around the injured's torso, but it seems fruitless. The demigod is growing paler by the second and unresponsive even quicker. "There's too much," you manage, cringing at the feeling of the warm liquid sliding down your hand. "She's lost way too much." The same cycle repeats over and over again, and even though you manage to save more demigods than not, it barely feels like a victory. You've long since scrubbed your hands of the blood, but it still feels like it's there staining them, reminding you of the lives you weren't good enough to save. No, it's not your fault, you try to remind yourself. You're not the one who caused the wounds. That giant's monster army is. Despite the hot summer air and the sweat clinging to your skin, you shiver and instinctively pull on a jumper. Judging from the clamminess of your skin, the rapidness of your breathing, the dreadful feeling of nausea making your stomach swirl, you can only guess you're going into shock, but there's nothing you can do about it as you sway on your feet. "Y/n?" a voice asks. It's Reyna. You can tell simply from the way your name is said. "Are you alright?" You can only shake your head and, almost immediately, fall into her side when she reaches you. She has to be exhausted from the battle, she'd been fighting while you'd been healing people, but she grasps you with strong hands and loops one of your arms over her shoulders. "You're trembling," she says. "You need to rest." "I know," you say. "I'm going into shock or something. It's a - it's a little hard to tell when it's myself." She leads you over to a space in the corner of the infirmary and lowers you to the floor. You lean back against the wall, closing your eyes to stop another wave of nausea from taking you over again. "I've never had to heal so many people all at once," you admit slowly, the words thick in your mouth and throat. "And I've never lost so many people all at once. I think - I think I'm just dealing with all of that." Reyna brushes hair from your face, and when you peer through half-closed eyelids, she's smiling slightly. "What? You find it cute when people are ill?" She shakes her head and says, "No, not at all. But, now it's my turn to take care of you. I never get to do that. You're always looking after me." "I can't promise it'll happen often," you say, closing your eyes again. "Apollo kids are rarely ill, and I still have a job to do. Give it five minutes and I'll be fine again." "You work yourself too hard." Her hand cups your cheek, cold against the heat radiating from your skin. "You need to rest." "Is that your order as my girlfriend or my praetor?" "That's up to you. You have to listen to me either way." You can hear her smile and it makes your heart skip a beat. She spends most hours of the day stone-faced and stern so that people can't find any weaknesses in her, but in the time you both get to spend together when duties are over, it's like she becomes a different person. She becomes the Reyna you know and love. "Are you okay?" you ask, opening your eyes enough to study her. She's still wearing her praetor's robes and armour, which are tattered and dirty, and there are a few smears of blood that haven't been washed off her cheeks and arms. Her dark braid, which is usually pristine and perfect, has almost completely fallen out, but you like the way her hair frames her face, how it complements the shape and colour of her eyes. "I am," she says. "I've been checked out already, no injuries. You should see the monsters I fought. Gone for good. Heads off, arms off..." You manage to grin.

"That's my Reyna." Reyna's smile is warm, intimate, and it takes all of your energy not to lean forward and press your lips against hers, desperate for the taste of honeysuckle and hot chocolate. The glint in her eyes helps you realise that she knows what you're thinking, what you want, but she stays rooted in place. "Feeling any better yet?" she asks. "If you can walk, I can help you get back to the barracks." "Or you can help me sneak into the praetor's room. I have a friend there I need to see." Her eyebrow quirks up. "Is that so?" "Mm-hm." You nod. "He's called Aurum, and he's brought his friend Argentum along, too. The more the merrier." She rolls her eyes and offers a hand, one you take gratefully and grasp tightly as she pulls you up. "And what do I get if I sneak you in there, hmm?" "The antidote for all your life's problems." When you stand fully, your noses brush from how close you've become. Your grin widens. "Aka. Me." Another roll of the eyes, but she loops an arm around you to support you after draping her cloak over your shoulders. "To keep you warm. It gets cold when it's dark." "I know. I've lived here for a good while now." "Not nearly long enough. You still haven't tried the hot chocolate. That's a crime. I may have to get you put on trial, possibly exiled, for that offence." "Oh, shut up. You'd never send me away." "For hot chocolate? Anything."

#reyna x reader #reyna ramirez arellano x reader #reyna ramirez arellano #reyna hoo x reader #hoo reyna x reader #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo x reader #reyna #givemea-dam-break #reyna fanfic #hoo fanfic #percy jackson series #pjo fanfic #x reader #reader insert #reyna x y/n #reyna x you

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kiatheinsomniac · 3 years ago

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1. I LOVE your writing! You're amazing! 2. If it's not too much trouble, could I request something where Ezio's wife is feeling quite insecure because she feels like she isn't as good as some of the other women Ezio has "been" with like Caterina and Ezio is trying to assure her that she shouldn't feel like that

Of course!! Sorry that it's taken me so long to get round to this, I've hardly been active on Tumblr at all in quite a while but I miss it here :(

She glanced over to where the Contessa was being checked over by a doctor while Ezio worriedly looked over her. Deep down, she knew that he was only concerned because she was a powerful ally to the brotherhood and her arrest at the hands of the Borgia had put her contribution to that alliance in jeopardy. But she couldn't help but fear that he was worried because they had a history together.

Claudia had told (Y/n) enough of what her husband was like in his youth - romancing every attractive woman he laid eyes on. On good days, this made her feel special - she were the one he married, after all - but on worse ones, it made her worry that he felt he could do better and go back to some of these women. Ezio was a faithful man, especially when it came to family, but this didn't stop her from worrying that she may not quite reach what he's been treated to by other women in his past.

She must have been glaring a little too hard though, because soon enough, Claudia was by her side, her arms folded.

"The woman is fine, I have a meeting to attend and he’s holding it up to fuss over her.” She snapped in disdain, her voice lowered as to not carry across the stone walls of Isola Tiberina’s Assassin hideout.

“I don’t like it.” (Y/n) confessed, her eyes shooting daggers at the Contessa of Forli. Claudia raised a brow at the acid in her tone, finding it so unlike her sister-in-law to be so bitter. Glancing over at Claudia’s expression of surprise, she stepped her way out of the conversation to go and fetch Ezio. He had duties as Mentor of the Brotherhood and she had the claws of jealousy tying knots at her like a marionette. Emotions were something personal to (Y/n) and she wouldn’t watch herself become a wreck over some half-disgraced woman who had lost hold of her city.

She could remember Ezio telling her how impressed he was to see a woman running a city all on her lonesome once...

She cleared her throat, dismissing the thought as she did.

“Ezio, our contacts are waiting for you.” She spoke up, her face and voice the mask of business to hide her feelings.

“Sì, I just-”

“Bartolomeo has barracks to attend to, Volpe has a tavern to maintain and Claudia has a brothel to run.” She cut him off, watching as he turned his head quickly to face her, his expression a lock of shock and offence, “While they wait for you, their factions wait for them. You keep our entire Brotherhood on hold in a most dire hour to fuss over the Contessa who I’m sure if capable enough of getting her own health in order with the medico.” Ezio had stood now from Caterina’s side, bewildered at his wife’s ill temper.

“Amore-“

“You have a job to do so go do it!” She snapped, “I have recruits to attend to and correspondence to deal with.” And with that said, she stormed off to the study in order to deal with the letters sent from the Brotherhood’s contacts across Italia.

She set the few recruits that she had gathered in Roma some training assignments and filed through all the available contracts in the Mediterranean, even going as far as to reorganise all the books of the study’s library. All of this was done to avoid going to bed, knowing that Ezio would be there and knowing that he wold ask her about her attitude from earlier.

It was when she was obsessively trying to get the paperweights in position that the door opened. In stepped the last man that she was willing to face in that moment: her poor husband who had suffered the brunt of her lashing out in jealousy.

“Gioia,” He began, his tone soft yet cautious, “come to bed.”

“But I need to sort these out…”

“I’m sure that the papers won’t grow wings and start flying any time soon.” He walked behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder and inhaling deeply as he pressed his face to her neck, “Come, I want to hold you and talk.”

“I just need...” She obsessively tried to get the weight to fit between the lines of the letter perfectly, some part of her mind telling her that everything would be alright if all these little things were exactly where they needed to be, that she wouldn’t have to talk about her feelings if she just got these other things sorted out first.

“You need to lay down with your husband,” One of his palms splayed across her stomach, tenderly rubbing up and down as his other hand caressed her waist, “and let him hold you in his arms,” A soft kiss pressed to the nape of her neck, “and tell him all about what has you so stressed. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Yeah, except the talking about my feelings bit.” She mumbled as the weight refused to quite fit between the lines, tears pricking her eyes, even if she tried to laugh a little. Ezio hummed knowingly.

“Come on…”

“Ok...” She surrendered, letting him lead her upstairs with one arm around her waist while his free hand held her own, smaller, hand in his.

He lead her up to their room where he began to strip her of her clothes that day, leaving her in a chemise. He frowned in sadness at her apathy, the way she didn’t melt into his touches as she usually would, and worry set into his veins.

He pulled her to the bed where he lay beside her, propped up on one elbow while she laid on her back, her bottom lip trembling, eyes glassy and jaw held tight in determination to keep a cool composure.

“What has upset you?”

“It’s stupid.” She replied simply, “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you or worried you, you don’t deserve that.” She took in a quick breath and covered her face with her hands, a small sob escaping her lips, each one that followed like a pair of scissors to his heartstrings.

“If it’s making you feel this way, it can’t be stupid.” He rested a hand on her arm and she turned away from him, her hand gripping the case of the pillow under her head impossibly tightly.

“It’s the Contessa.” She mumbled into the plush pillow, her cheeks already heating up in humiliation, “The way you risked your life to save her today and then you were fussing over her health and...”

“Amore, you know that I would do all the same and more for you.” He spoke, almost in disbelief that this is what she was so upset about. There was a long silence as she wrapped her arms around her torso, hoping that somehow she could physically hold herself together with her arms.

“Why did you marry me?” Fresh tears wet her cheeks and she muffled the sound of her crying in the sheets. He drew closer to her and held her in his arms, feeling her frame jolt with each sob.

“Because I’m in love with you.” He replied simply, “I’m in love with the way you see the world and people, I’m in love with your passion and humour and intelligence.” He squeezed her tightly.

“But you could have had any woman you pleased, any woman you’ve been with before. The countess of Forli: the only woman strong enough to run her own city and even fend off Borgia armies.” She hesitated but now that she had bottled up such strong emotions all day, the glass had cracked and no one could hold in its contents lest they slice their hands on the glass. “And don’t think I didn’t overhear that night back in Monteriggioni when I was still just the decipherer Leonardo had sent for the codex pages.”

Once upon a time, this would have been a time for Ezio to be boastful, but now that he was a married man, he only felt rather embarrassed instead. Looking away for a moment, his eyes came back to land upon his wife.

“You worry that you don’t live up to the women I’ve had before then?” He asked cautiously, knowing that this question may well only make things far worse if he were wrong.

“She’s a fucking countess who runs her own city and has her own armies, not to mention the fact that she’s also very clearly good in bed. Who am I? The goddamn babysitter of all the recruits.” She threw her hands up in the air before rolling onto her back and turning her head to face him, at last, with teary eyes.

“You, amore mio,” He began, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek, turning his body even more so in her direction, “are the woman who stole my heart so quickly, that I simply couldn’t wait to marry you.” It was true, they had only been seeing each other for just over 18 months when he asked her to marry him. “You’re an Assassin who is fighting for everyone in Roma and then all of Italia behind her borders.” A conviction began to grow within his voice as he took up her left hand in his, holding it up so that she could see her wedding and engagement rings. “You are the only woman in this world that I want to spend the rest of my life with.” He brought her hand up to place a kiss upon her knuckles. “I have had histories with women before, we both know this… But they are the past and you,” He leaned down to place a soft kiss upon her lips, lingering and tender, “are my future.”

A small smile quivered upon her lips as fresh tears welled in her eyes, tears of an overwhelming sentiment of love.

“I love you with all my heart, Ezio.”

#Ezio #ezio auditore da firenze #ezio auditore #ezio's family #ezio assassins creed #ezio x reader #ezio auditore fanfiction #ezio auditore imagine #ezio auditore x reader #ezio auditore da firenze x reader #ezio/ reader #ezio auditore/ reader #im back on my fanfic shit bitches

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gxrlcinema · 3 years ago

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☕️ general Stucky headcanon?

oof I have too many because I think about these two all the time. Instead have this long one I think about a lot. This was maybe not what you asked for but it just poured out of me.

Bucky's always been curious. Bucky used to get his ears boxed and his knuckles rapped for being too curious, asking questions about everything. Within the first couple minutes of knowing Steve Bucky had asked him everything about him and his various illnesses.

When Steve goes deaf in one ear the summer after fourth grade, he jokes that it's because Bucky talked his ear off.

Whenever Steve goes to see one of his many doctors, Bucky sends him with a list of questions to ask them.

When Steve's seventeen, one night out on the fire escape, pressed together but not quite leaning on each other, Bucky turns to Steve.

"Do you wanna kiss me Stevie?"

Steve is stunned. His heart beats in his throat, the panic gripping his already fragile lungs. He studies Bucky, but Bucky only looks earnest and inquisitive, and just the littlest bit fond.

He knows, Steve thinks. This is maybe the only question Bucky would ask knowing full well what the answer is.

Steve leans in until their noses brush and he can feel Bucky's breath against his lips.

"What kind of question is that?"

When they're together intimately, all Bucky does is ask questions.

"Do you like that, sweetheart?"

"Does that feel good?"

"You want to go again?"

He doesn't say I love you, he asks "Do you love me, Stevie?" and Steve responds with a fond smile and, "what kind of question is that?".

The night he goes to war, Steve can see the questions on the tip of his tongue.

Are you gonna wait for me?

Do you know the questions that you should ask the doctors?

If I die out there, are you gonna move on?

"Do you love me, Stevie?" he asks instead.

Steve, hiding tears in the shoulder of Bucky's army uniform, lets out a pitiful laugh.

"What kind of question is that?"

Bucky's different after Steve finds him in that factory in Italy. Quieter. His eyes keep darting around and his grip is a little too tight on his gun. There's an energy about him, like all of his questions are built up behind his eyes. And his eyes keep wandering back to Steve, studying his too-large body and his strong jaw.

"So are you gonna age slower? Because your cells regenerate faster than other people?"

Steve considers this. "I don't really know, Buck. Erskine died before he could explain it in detail."

Bucky nods. His eyebrows are furrowed hard in the center of his dirt-smudged face. Steve gives him a sideways glance, worried about the state he seemed to be in when Steve first found him on that table.

They walk in silence for a bit.

"... D'ya reckon you could win in a fight against Superman?"

Bucky's not the same after Steve finds him, but far be it from Steve, of all people, to judge. He hesitates a bit, at first, but he makes his way back to asking Steve questions.

Then he dies.

The Winter Soldier doesn't ask questions, Steve discovers seventy years later. For the first little while, it seems like Bucky doesn't even wonder, just observes with that hollow expression he has. And then he seems like he might wonder, but he'll never ask. He tells Steve whenever he remembers something, head bowed and eyes pleading, but he'll stop Steve from telling him too much about the past. And there's this question behind his eyes that Steve can't answer, because he doesn't ask.

Steve loves this Bucky, he does. He'd love Bucky if he never remembered anything, if he'd killed him in the air over the Potomac. But G-d, does he miss the questions.

One day he's in the kitchen of their apartment, and he hears Bucky's bare feet pad along the tile behind him (intentionally, to let Steve know he's coming).

Bucky looks like he's got something to say, so Steve looks up from the toast he's buttering and gives him his full attention.

"Were we together?" Bucky asks. "Did we-" His head was bowed but he looks Steve dead in the eyes now, and the blue haze around his pupils is full of questions. "Were we in love with each other?"

And Steve doesn't want to ruin this, doesn't want to put pressure on it or chase Bucky away or get his hopes up, but he's damn near tears. Not just from the question itself, but the sheer relief that floods through him at the sound of Bucky's voice wrapped around a question again.

Bucky's not nervous, just earnest and inquisitive and the tiniest bit fond. He knows, Steve thinks. Damn him.

And so Steve says the only thing he can think to say:

"What kind of question is that?"

#ilanswers #winter wonderweek #stucky #stevebucky #stucky headcanon #stevebucky headcanon #a cup of hot cocoa ☕️

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penguin--person · 22 days ago

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yayy joyous tail wag !!!! ok so

JEFF THE JUMPSCARE!!!!

nastya (15) sucksss . shes a pafl oc of mine, tho she has a thousand other aus<3 in mob psycho shed be an esper, but one awakened by claw ! i know that the pain isnt what makes an esper awaken - in my understanding, your abilities awaken after experiencing strong emotions. so !! ok. nastya... smth about her is she wants to be loved soo so bad. its like her biggest theme. she doesnt care what happens to her, whats done to her, as long as shes loved (what she perceives to be love). its basically like, she doesnt know what love is, so she'll take the first explanation that she gets. is where gabriela comes in (nastyas 'caretaker' in their og story)

i could easily put them in claw imo - nastyas one of the kids they try to awaken powers in. she develops some kind of connection to gabriela - maybe gabriela gives her some kind of incentive? like she sees that nastya thinks shes sooo cool for her esper powers, for her psychometry, for her Cool and Mysterious aura... like, tells her smth like "id really love it if you awakened your psychic powers, bc wed get to hang out with each other then. idteach you how to use them 1 on 1. ill never speak to you again if you dont"

i think itd be fun if nastya unlocked her powers via what she thinks is love, but not really. like, shes going through the awakening, but its not working. shes going Fuckkk ill never talk to gabriela again if i dont unlock m powers!!!!! No!!!! Shes so cool!!! i HAVE to hang out with!!!! and unlocks psychic regeneration . directs all her psychic energy into healing her wounds idk <3 she thinks she unlocked her powers via feeling so much love for gabriela when actually she was just so so stressed out from the preassure put on her

since regeneeration isnt smth that can hurt people i think itd be fun if she had a gun or a knife... or both... ur shooting at her but she eats all the bullets and spits them back out at you

ofc mob would show up and hed make her realise that gabriela doest actually love her, etc. and bc hes mob hed forgive her for trying to kill him. itd be hard for nastya to accept but mobs sooo cool he would be able to get through to her

SHED BE SILLY BTWWW SHED BE SO SO SILLY. during her and mobs fight(s), shed realise that she cant defeat him, so shed start saying stuff like "omggg are you really hitting a girl ??? a girl weaker than you ??? omg ... like, thats messed up .... also, like, do you Ever emote??? why are u so expressionless lol. whats up with that. are you not normal or smth :3 lmao. just look at yourself. youre such a loser" .. starts bullying him bc she doesnt know what else to do hehe ...

i think mob would make such an awesome impression on her that shed wanna study under him. wants him to 'teach her how to use her powers for good' but rlly she just wants to hang out with him. theyd be bestiesss. shed think that reigen is such a loser. lamest guy ever. "MOBBB OMG MY BESTIE MOB HIII HOW ARE YOU ITS BEEN FOREVER SINCE I LAST SAW YOU <3333 💖💖💖💖💖💖 wdym we just saw each other 5 minutes ago." vs " hello reigen. 🙂."

oh shed sooo annoy reigen w stuff like "why are you, an adult, talking to me, a minor? 🙂" (she wouldnt care about it in actuality, just wants to annoy him)

she loves miku btw shes her #1 fan. she loves cats and has definetely read warrior cats. she loves tussling with a friends oc. she would wanna tussle mob sooo bad. she would bring strays into reigens office, cause a client to have an allergic reaction to the cat, but reigen cant fire her bc she refuses to be hired in the first place. ME AND RHE BESTIE 💖💖💖and reigen.

do u wanna hear about my nastya (oc) in mp100 thoughts... her au .... respond if yes stay silent if yes ....i think shed suck and would be a loser

i am listening on precisely how much she';d suck

#nastyacore #usually when nastya learns that gabriela sucks ass and doesnt love her she breaks down sooo bad #but mob could stop that. hed be her friend and she would be fixed. besties #RAMBLE BE UPONYE

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yesimwriting · 3 years ago

Text

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!!

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread.

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing.

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly.

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed.

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds.

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way.

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night?

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark.

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan.

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer.

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty.

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.”

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.”

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down.

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.”

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting.

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit.

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?”

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.”

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.”

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.”

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?”

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.”

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.”

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second.

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?”

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.”

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?”

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.”

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.”

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t.

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone.

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways.

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.”

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place.

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.”

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.”

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me.

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches.

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.”

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.”

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.”

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.”

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.”

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.”

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him.

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact.

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.”

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not.

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…”

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.”

“More than I should?”

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.”

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?”

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.”

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.”

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?”

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.”

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--”

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.”

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.”

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.”

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.”

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh.

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.”

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown.

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.”

“Kirigan--”

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.”

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear.

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it.

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before.

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.”

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine.

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.”

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip.

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.”

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly.

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more.

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.”

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.”

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise.

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.”

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.”

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--”

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.”

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?”

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.”

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible.

He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is.

“Soon,” he promises again.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

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adelheidvonschicksal · 3 years ago

Note

hello I'm the person who asked imagine reader fem x Gojo. with the Arcade music, I wanted anguish with a happy ending, thanks and sorry for the incomplete order.

Summary: Gojo has to come to terms with killing someone he cares about…again. (spoilers for Gojo’s past arc)

Notes: Okay, I wrote three different scenarios. This one that’s posted, a second about an open relationship falling through, and one with a terminally ill reader-chan. And hated them all (It’d help if he had more humility too, cause he’d need to crawl back in most everything I thought of, and I can’t imagine this man crawling back to anyone). So, it kind of turned into a character study. So, this is the one I liked best I think, or could at least piece together into something coherent. I might revisit that second plot though for something else.

Long story short: I tried. :,(

A broken heart is all that's left I'm still fixing all the cracks

Satoru never truly opens himself up to people. Sure, he’s sociable, the friendly demeanor and air of confidence he puts on that somehow manages to draw common people to him like fish on a line isn’t even a lie. Gojo knows he’s strong, knows he’s good-looking and charismatic. Even now, he can flash a smile to the nervous woman opposite him in the train car, the one that’s been staring at him for a solid 30 seconds, and have her number in half the time if he really wanted.

The brief connection following their interaction wouldn’t be the same as letting her close to him.

Satoru accepted and acknowledged that it’s probably for the best, seeing as there was never another person that he feels could understand him after the last one. That relationship made his life's complications even more jumbled than they were originally to the point where even he finds it hard to straighten sometimes.

He didn’t have time to figure out how to piece everything together to present them in a way that’d be digestible for another person to even begin to understand. Let alone the fact that there wasn’t anyone he thought was worthy to even spend the time collecting all the pieces of himself.

Yet when he touches the boundaries of Sendai, he reaches for his phone readily and searches for the characters that make up your name.

“(Name)-chan,” he greets cheerfully. “Guess who boarded off in Sendai. Since you’re in town, why don’t you come to Kikusuian with me? My treat.”

There’s a soft scoff on the other side of the line, and he can already sense this will be a fight. The same kind of teasing you do to each other every day as your voice comes through with faux disgust. “Are you trying to talk me into that zunda mess again?”

Satoru smirks, recalling the day the two of you first met. He took you to get something to eat as he did with almost everyone he meets, and you so quickly turned your nose up at his offer of the green and white mochi. Now, you seldom reject an offer from him, only give a little fuss for show.

“I’m telling you it’s good. Come on. You wouldn’t make me go alone, would you? What if someone tries to kidnap me?”

“They’d bring you back in five minutes.”

He visibly winces at your words. “Ouch. What did I do to deserve this today?”

“I’m kidding. I’m already on the way.”

“I knew you loved me.”

“Well, I figured if it’s the great Gojo begging me for my time, I couldn’t say no.”

Gojo pouts even if he knows you can’t see it. “I wouldn’t call it begging…but I’m glad you get the idea.”

“Yeah, yeah. If you make me wait, I’ll buy out the shop and not share one piece with you.”

“Wouldn’t.”

“Better hurry. I’m already 10 minutes away.”

Gojo clicks off his phone. He finally releases a deep sigh, waves off his seat partner, and heads out to meet you at the shop before you can make good on your threat. It doesn’t take long to meet you at the shop. You already have a bag of goods in your hand and a smile breaks out over your face as soon as you see him walking up.

It makes him smile, too.

Even if this occasion isn’t one worth smiling about.

Lost a couple of pieces when I carried it, carried it, carried it home

Satoru doesn’t let people close to him.

Not after losing his best friend.

The day Satoru last talked to Suguru, truly talked to Suguru, waxes and wanes in his mind. Normally, he’s able to shove it back and not think about it whatsoever. On rare occasions, it’s on the forefront of his mind to remind him why he chose the path he did to rewrite the sorcerer world. He’d contemplate on it during the quiet hours of the morning before everyone gathered in the dining hall for breakfast, before Utahime cracked a wisecrack about him being lost in space, and before Nanami attempted to avoid him out of fear that Satoru would drag him into whatever nonsense the older sorcerer was contemplating.

Then, he’d sense someone, invading the frozen outlining of space, the external and internal infinity, he purposely keeps between himself and others.

Satoru didn’t stop you immediately, unsure why it takes more than a picosecond to throw on his guard when he knows full well what you are. When you got close to touching him, he quickly halted your advance. He bent his neck back to look up at you from your position above him. Your hands were angled towards the black blindfold over his eyes, twitching in eagerness.

A smile started to form on your face.

“You’re slacking, Satoru. I almost got you this time,” you said. “What’s the matter—getting old?”

“Not at all,” he answered matter-of-factly. “I did it to lure you in,” he said, reaching up to poke your nose.

You pulled back with a pout. “Do you really not want to show me your famous technique? You always mention how pretty your eyes are unless…do you perhaps have a lazy eye you’re embarrassed about? Astigmatism?”

Satoru scoffed at your observation. He couldn’t hide the amusement you managed to draw out of him as you slowly slid your way over to his side of the couch. “Of course not. I have 120-120 vision,” he said, tapping his temple where the blindfold lies.

Your mouth hanged slightly, and your eyes widen. “Wait, Six Eyes isn’t literal, is it?”

He cackled at your dumbstruck look. “Of course not. But it’s funny you thought that.”

With a pout and a roll of your eyes, you plopped down on the seat next to him. He looked your way with a smile, but it faltered upon seeing your concern. “But seriously, it seemed like something was wrong. Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

For a half-second, he almost contemplated saying yes but instead waved it off. “I’m fine, just thinking about what to eat for breakfast.”

You nod.

“Alright,” you said, and he expected you to drop whatever interest you had in him as you stood to your feet and stretched. “Whenever you’re ready then. I won’t force you, but I’m here if you ever feel like it.”

You managed to cut down the smile on his face, if only for a second.

I've spent all of the love I saved

We were always a losing game

Satoru wouldn’t describe himself as a cold person.

He cares about the wellbeing of others, has no problem that the world has to rely on him as the strongest, to do what needed to be done. Satoru simply refuses to have to rely on someone else for support if it can be avoided as getting too attached complicated things.

Yet you wormed yourself in there some way.

No matter how many times he told himself not to get too attached to you, no matter how he tried to keep a thin layer of distance between the two of you once he realized you were beginning to crack his domain, he still found himself seeking out your company.

It’s the first time since those years ago that he’s felt a spark for anyone else, something more than fleeting attraction or a way to entertain himself. Satoru already knows the two of you will never work even if he did play into those creeping feelings clawing around in desperate search for the little corner left in his heart for deeper emotions other than basic instinct and occasional human decency.

Satoru was a sorcerer, and you were a curse user.

An informer.

A traitor.

One he was assigned to bring in from your assignment for interrogation and subsequent execution. Probably because the higher ups knew you were stronger than you let on and more likely to punish Satoru himself, to torture him just a bit more since there was no way they could touch him themselves.

If anyone asked, he’d say he only found out recently about your traitor status, but he knew all along. That’s why he stuck so close to you in an effort to watch your movements. It was a bit of a game to see when you’d slip up on all that false information he’d feed you.

Satoru couldn’t pinpoint though the exact moment that being around you became his choice. When after you’d share with him about your life, about being the only member left of your massacred clan and wanting to do good by them, he’d share a little bit about himself that may have actually been true.

Satoru never got close to answering why you’d want to work with curses. You seem way too softhearted to want a world built around pure strength if the smile you gave him was anything to go by.

Grinning, you teeter the brown paper bag, the white spun handle nuzzled in the first bend of your finger as you hold it out to him.

“I told you I’d pay for us,” Gojo says, and you shrug.

“The line was getting long besides you bought me lunch last time anyway,” you remind him and head towards the door to find a place to sit and eat before Gojo suggests the two of you could walk around town a bit instead. You follow along the sidewalk with him, believing that he called you out for a reason. “So, what’s up? You didn’t call me out just because you wanted to get sugar.”

“I told you already I didn’t want to go alone,” Gojo explains as he opens up the bag and looks for the familiar packet of sweets.

You laugh. “What’s wrong? Your students not giving you enough attention?”

“Not at all. Kikufuku is simply better in the presence of a pretty woman.”

“Oh, so it wasn’t me you missed at all. You just needed eye candy to go with your store candy,” you respond as if offended but the small hum you make as you chew your mochi makes your anger a clear farce.

“Of course not. You knew what I meant. You’ve been in Sendai forever. I missed having you around.”

“Yeah. I missed you too. What brought you to Sendai anyway. You have a mission?” you ask him with curious eyes, and Gojo collects the familiar feelings, finds the right voice to put on, and the best smile for the situation as he brings his finger to his lips.

“It’s top secret.”

“Even from me?”

“Especially from you.”

You pout, playful and childish, and he wonders for a second what kind of face you’d make if you knew the truth about why you had been shipped to Sendai these past weeks and why he was truly here. It makes his heart ache in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, in a way he swore to himself he’d never let himself feel again. “I thought we were supposed to be friends.”

“We are.”

“Best friends?” you ask.

“2nd best friends,” he says. The spot in his heart for first was already taken by someone else, but there was also a special room that was for you that couldn’t be filled by his late best friend.

“Shame,” you murmur, walking slightly ahead of him, “Guess I’ll have to make Nanami my favorite after all since I’m only your second.”

“I’m way better than him in the friend department! Way funnier too,” Gojo complains, but the words feel like a lie on his mouth as he thinks about how you’d hang, head and body separated, those beautiful eyes blotted out with blood.

“I’m kidding.” You raise your hand and twist your fingers together, saying with a wink, “You’re a solid tie with him. But after tonight, you maybe move ahead of him. Maybe.” you tease but Satoru knows…he knows he’s your favorite.

And he enjoys the moment all the while trying to get the image of you cursing him with your final breath out of his mind.

All I know, all I know Loving you is a losing game

It isn’t far-fetched to say Satoru likes you. Loves even or at least the closest thing to love he’s ever felt and probably ever will.

It’s why he spends all night with you, hoping to give you one more good time where the two of you could be on the same side.

As you come up to the shrine on the edge of the downtown strip, he keeps questioning himself on why he hadn’t pushed you away more, why he hadn’t made a move to get rid of the threat you presented sooner.

“You’re right,” you tell him, finally finishing off the last of your snacks and stuffing the empty bag into the recycling bin. “Cream and zunda do go oddly well together.”

“I told you so,” he says cheerfully as you sit on a nearby stone bench together. Your head cranks up to look up at the sky as you comment on the shame of being unable to see the stars as dark clouds start to build up.

“Should probably head back and call it a night soon.”

“Probably,” Gojo agrees but he can’t help but think how true those words are for you. This would probably be your last night out once the school was finished with you, and he’d have to execute someone else he cares about.

It causes an ache in a small part of him he thought he sealed off long ago, that’s still desperate enough to open up, truly open, to another human being. Gojo slides his hands into his pockets while you release a deep sigh and begin to stare up at the little specks of stars that manage to peek through the cloud lining.

Satoru wishes the rain would hold off, that time would hold off a little longer so the two of you could make TikTok videos together again to stave off your shared boredom, maybe prank Nanami together before rating celebrities’ newest looks. He’d especially miss that pout you’d make when he’d poke your nose after catching you trying to bypass his infinity. He both hated and love those moments, because he did want to let you in but the idea of baring himself completely to you, being vulnerable, still made him uneasy for this exact reason. Yet he foolishly relished in your time together all the while resenting the fact that your fate would end up exactly like this.

Exactly like it always does when he makes a connection, no matter how small.

“Hey, Satoru…what would you do if I told you I wanted to kiss you?” Satoru tenses and whips his head back in your direction. Seeing his reaction, you turn your head back to the sky and mumble, “It’s alright if you don’t want to. I was just wondering.”

Gojo scowls, his eyes focusing on your face. Specifically, the softness of your lips as you gently suck on them to bring moisture back to your delicate arches. His memories sketch in the fact that you have beautiful lips. Kissable. “It’s not that I wouldn’t, but it doesn’t really seem fair to you,” he admits.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I don’t really think it’d be kind to kiss someone I’m supposed to be arresting. You know what I’m talking about, right, Ms. Traitor?”

You open your mouth to speak but quickly fall silent and purse your lips.

“Not going to deny it?”

Gojo hopes you’ll deny his accusation with some pretty excuse to prove to him that he’s wrong about the situation, yet he knows he’s right, and he also knows you know that any excuse you have wouldn’t be sufficient.

“No. It’s the truth. I’m a curse-user, not a sorcerer.”

Satoru grits his teeth at your confession. His suspicions finally solidified with real evidence that he can’t bury away due to his absurd feelings.

“To be honest,” you begin, picking at your pants leg. “I had figured that the elders had already figured it out. It’s the only reason I could think of for why they would keep me in Sendai for so long.”

“You know. You could’ve run away when I first called you if you knew.”

You laugh bitterly. “Please, you can warp, and I’m not arrogant enough to think that I’d win in a fight against you when you hunt me down. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think you’d steamroll me either, but you’d definitely kill me in the end.”

“I would,” he responds, and you scoot back slightly as if he’d attack you that very moment. Your desire to kiss him turning into a desire to put distance in between the two of you stinging him when he had in fact aimed those words at himself. To talk himself into the fact that he would kill you here and now, without giving you the chance to cause anyone pain should he hesitate this night, like before.

The only one who would be in pain at the end of this should be him.

Because he may be the strongest but he’s human too.

No matter how hard he tries to think himself higher.

“That’d probably be for the best.”

Confusion strikes him first, and he quickly has to pull together his thoughts to form a coherent question, “You want me to kill you?”

Your lip twitches as you try to find the voice to explain, “The curses already are trying to kill me, and the only other options are execution or torture then execution from Jujutsu Tech. At least with you I know you’d make it quick.”

Then, it’s something you say that breaks his chain of thoughts.

Had you made the curses angry as well?

“The curses you work with—why are they trying to kill you? Aren’t they your allies?”

You shake your head. “I stopped feeding them information months ago. Anything they know now has to be someone else.”

“Any idea who?”

“Not really.”

“Convenient.”

“It’s the truth. Guess they didn’t trust me enough, well, good for them that they didn’t.”

Gojo droops his shoulders, relaxing back once again as he pinches the bridge of his nose to try to collect all the information you’re feeding him, to debate whether to believe you or not.

“I still don’t understand. Why’d you choose to work with curses in the first place…They promise you a coatrack too?”

“I wish. I have way too many jackets,” you say, remembering that one of the other humans on the curses’ side was promised one for his cooperation. “I did it because sorcerers are evil. They had no problem wiping out my clan as soon as we stopped toeing the line with them. I didn’t think sorcerers deserved their place. That’s why I chose to work with curses,” you confess. “I thought you all work the same in the top clans, but you guys at the school are so different from what I thought sorcerers were like. I couldn’t find a reason to keep hating sorcerers. At least not all of them especially not you.”

Gojo blinks a few times, studying your face for any sign of a lie, but he couldn’t find any in the gentle look you give him as your fingers inch closer to his hand, lightly brushing his skin as he realizes that he let his guard off around you…like always.

“You don’t have to believe me, but I’m telling you the truth when I say it’s not me, Satoru.”

With you admitting all this to him, he couldn’t find it in himself to kill or capture you when your conscience is already set to atone, the words you give instantly giving lifting the weight off his chest that he wouldn’t have to kill. Not this time. And replacing it with another pleasant, burning feeling. A selfish one. And he smiles, knowing that the higher ups would have another reason to want his head mounted on the wall.

“Calm down,” Gojo interrupts. He pulls his hand away from yours to bring it to the top of your head, lifting your gaze up to meet his. “I’ve already decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“So, you are going to turn me in? If that’s the case, I’ll have no choice but to go out fighting you.”

“Nope!” he says, gleefully bopping your nose with his finger before he takes a more serious tone, “If you’re no longer feeding information, then there’s not much of a point in killing you other than some petty revenge. Luckily in this case, I don’t feel the need for it.”

“You believe me then?” you question skeptically. “You…really trust me? What if I’m lying to you?”

Gojo hums, digging his finger in the top of his fold and pulling it down to study you. Immediately, you tense, but not from fear but fluster as it’s the first time you’re seeing his face. Gojo flashes a quick grin, the same smile he gives when he catches a woman staring at him, and you do what they all do and suddenly stare hard at your feet as you shyly debate meeting his eye.

“Yeah. You’re being honest,” he says, and hesitantly you raise your head to meet his gaze.

“How can you tell?” you breath out softly.

“It’d be no fun if I told you all that now,” Gojo says with a wink causing you to huff softly. Though, the simple answer is that he’d be a lousy person if he couldn’t tell when a close friend of his was lying to him. He pats your head, like a person pets a beloved child. “Well, that’s that. Let’s go home.”

“Home?” you ask.

“To the school. You said you wanted to stay with us.”

“Satoru, I,” you begin unsurely.

“It’s fine. Let me handle everything. The higher-ups already want my head mounted on a wall, so why not give them another reason to do it,” he says confidently, and you frown as a soft apology comes out your lips. “Don’t worry about it.”

You glance at his back broad in front of you, the relax posture and carefree whistling as he walks inviting you to catch up to his side. “I’m trusting you, Satoru. ...Don’t lie to me.”

Satoru looks to you, your eyes soft and pleading as they scan him for any sign of danger as you take the first nervous steps behind him.

“You can count on me,” he pipes out, “Just save that kiss for me as a reward and also maybe mention to Nanami that I’m your favorite now.”

You laugh, a beautiful sound to him. “Deal.”

Still I carried, I carried, I carried on

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo #songfic

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years ago

Text

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

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