#it’s actually one of the reasons I loved One Piece
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
pleasureable · 2 days ago
Text
Star Shopping !
˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚ in which you’re asked to star in Thanos’ new music video
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were a well known Instagram model, with your career being launched after you had posted a random selfie of you taken on your digital camera
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the virality of your picture practically launched you into virtual stardom with you gaining a pretty big following after that
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your followers loved you for your beauty and style, as your instagram page was littered with pictures of you posing in clothing items such as big fur coats, mini skirts, leather tops and bottoms and bikinis
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you were pretty popular amongst rappers for some reason, with some even asking for permission to use your pictures in promo for their music
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you had been familiar with Thanos for a little while now as you had seen his performances a couple times—more specifically his performance at Rolling Loud fest. you liked his music and you thought he was pretty cute but you had never really interacted with him before
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Thanos was practically obsessed with you, though. he would always like your posts, even commenting “😍😍” on some of them—of course, fueling some rumors of hidden romance between you two
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ he had finally messaged you one day, his name popping up in your dms
@thanos
u down to be in my music video, pretty ?
@y/n
sure why not lol
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ after a few days of exchanging messages you finally booked a flight (that he, of course, offered to pay for) to L.A—where the video would be filmed
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once you had landed and settled into your hotel room a bit, you and Thanos had met up for coffee—he explained the vision he had for the video, as well as telling you what he wanted from you in terms of your appearance in it
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ “I’m thinkin’ of like, just having you as the main focus of the video” he said. you were incredibly flattered, how couldn’t you be? a big, hotshot rapper like him wanted to plaster your face all over a piece of his work. “main focus?” you asked, a touch of uncertainty in your voice. you had been in some music videos before, but just as a background character, never the lead girl. “Of course, I wanna showcase your beauty as much as I can.” he responded.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ your nerves were at an all time high as you drove to the filming location the day of the video shoot. once you got there the makeup artists began to work on you, minimal makeup, just as Thanos had earlier requested (he did want to showcase your beauty, after all)
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the on-set costume designer had chosen to dress you in a tight, mini white dress—a ushanka style hat being placed on your head to finish the look
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the music video idea followed two lovers who spend the night recording each other on a camcorder, engaging in stupid shenanigans around a mansion, showcasing and capturing carefree moments of each other
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ walking onto set, you could feel thanos’s eyes all over you, admiring the way your body fit your dress and how the ring lights placed on set perfectly highlighted your facial features
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once actual shooting had begun, the romantic chemistry between the two of you was undeniable
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the romantic poses you were placed in by the director and Thanos himself obviously weren’t doing anything to dampen the atmosphere
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ nearing the end of shooting, you were scripted to be holding the camcorder while staring into Thanos’s eyes, an implied kiss taking place before the screen would go black, thus marking the end of video
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ though, once you got close enough to his face to the point where the tips of your noses were touching, the sexual and romantic tension had gotten unbearable. you had been very much aware of Thanos’s attraction to you prior to him asking you to be in his video, and you never quite expected you and him to be in the predicament you were in now.
˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ without even thinking, Thanos smashed his lips against yours—to your delight. pent up frustration causing the kiss to be slightly lewd, though you both quickly pulled away before you got carried away
“that definitely wasn’t scripted mr. Thanos.”
“Of course it wasn’t, pretty.”
586 notes · View notes
yowlthinks · 3 hours ago
Text
I think this is a very important message. The world is not black and white, and people who are extremely talented can also be not good people.
I think NG allegations, and the latest article that came out, made all of us think through a few big things we might not have considered that deeply before. And there are a few thoughts I had that I wanted to note down, mainly for myself.
Believing the victims vs. presumption of innocence.
Overall, I support the presumption of innocence. However, this basic belief hinges on the assumption that the police and courts are doing what we expect them to do and doing it well. When we look at the SA and rape cases, unfortunately this is not really the case.
"Only 8 percent of sexual assaults were reported to the Police" (Source: justice.govt.nz)
Out of these, only 1/3 results in convictions (there are a number of sources, but the one below also shows the staggering divide by victim's gender)
So in view of the above, while we absolutely have to uphold the presumption of innocence, we also have to face the fact that at least some, if not all, of these accusations are very likely true. And the reason why we do not have the full legal proof is that sadly, the police and the legal system are not working as we expect them to.
Also, if you are in the right place psychologically and want a powerful artistic reflection on the above, I highly recommend watching Prima Facie. It is a brilliant play that puts the focus on the above stats in a very real, personal and heartbreaking way.
Separating the art from the artist dilemma
So now we have to face the fact that someone who we thought was brilliant author AND also a decent human being, is actually very likely a violent criminal.
And there are several things that have been happening in view of this that I find deeply concerning:
- Saying he was not such a talented author anyway - let us face it, he is a talented author, not everyone's cup of tea, but he is talented.
- Saying the stories now should be forgotten, abandoned and never mentioned again, and anyone still enjoying them should be ashamed of themselves- should they really, though?
I will be honest, I do not have the answer. It is easy when the author is dead: Leo Tolstoy was absolutely awful, but I don’t see anyone frowning on the adaptations of his books or the fact that they are studied in schools. The author is no more, the art lives on. But what about someone alive? Where do we draw the line: ok to read old books? Borrow from the libraries? Anything is fair game as long as the persona non grata does not profit?
I don't know the right answer, and I think it will take me some time to figure one out for myself, but I think loving stories and seeing meaning and finding shoelace in stories, in art should be seen as separate from condoning behaviour of a person who created them. I think it is ok to fall in love with art, but we should be very careful in crowning someone as "the best person ever" and pinning all our hopes on them. Parasocial relationships don't mean you know a person and talent is no guarantee for decency.
Allowing yourself to feel
Calling the disappointed fans out as selfish doesn't help the victims.
Telling yourself that there are people out there who have been impacted much more by this then you and your little fictional character fixations is... true, but also it is wrong to not acknowledge the disappointment, the upset and the sadness something like that brings. Yes, this is obviously not the focus, but I think everyone is allowed to also think of the personal impact of the news on them, without forgetting the impact on the victims, on the society or the industry in general.
The case of JKR has taken the shine of the HP universe for me. These books and films are a big part of my youth, it is a bonding media piece for my generation, and now every time I see another news piece about her I ask myself smth along the lines of "things were so good, why did you have to go and ruin it for yourself and for all of us?" I have not watched the films since and the idea of rereading the HP series has sort off died in me, and I am somewhat annoyed at myself for failing at this artist vs art separation.
I am not a huge fan of Gaiman, but I read a few of his books and liked them, and I don't know if I will read some more in future or not. But they have certainly lost a huge chunk of their appeal.
Well, there are always people who disappoint and those who positively surprise. I hope there will be more of the latter.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
7K notes · View notes
covenofagatha · 17 hours ago
Text
Going up
A morning of working Agatha up ends in an elevator
Word count: 3.3k
Warnings: GP Agatha, cumming in pants, blowjob, slight handjob, public (no sex though), oral, light edging
A/N: I don't even know if this is good or not lol but I had the idea and couldn't get it out of my head so hopefully people enjoy it
Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
When you wake up on Saturday morning, your first thought is: no work today! This week has been especially rough, the end of the fiscal quarter upon you, and your boss has been working you and the rest of the company to the bone. 
Your head lolls back on the pillow, tilting slightly to your left, where you see said boss sleeping next to you and a smirk spreads over your face. 
Her hair is fanned out across the pillowcase, the creases on her forehead that you’re used to seeing at work not as evident. She looks peaceful, more relaxed than she ever does awake, and it does something to your chest. 
Agatha Harkness is the Chief Operating Officer for the largest law firm in New York City. She runs a no-nonsense ship, barking out orders to everyone and anyone regardless of who you are. There’s rumors that she’s made interns pee themselves with just a single look. 
It’s no secret that she’s tightly wound and, without a doubt, a piece of work. The running joke between some of the attorneys was that she really needed to get laid. 
And while you found that incredibly sexist, that’s where you came in. 
For some reason, Agatha had always had a soft spot for you, one of the top Senior Associate attorneys for the company. Whereas when everyone else turned in reports and whatnot and got a mere eyebrow raise, she actually smiled at you. 
You were certain it was just a fluke that kept happening over and over again, but one night in her corner office, the two of you were tirelessly working on a lawsuit for a tech company and you had taken off your blazer. The air conditioning had broken, and you were working up a sweat.  
She was sitting adjacent to you on the couch, and you can still remember her swallowing hard when you undid the top two buttons of your silk blouse. She shifted, hands dropping to her lap uncomfortably, but you didn’t think much of it. 
And then you had decided that writing on paper against a book in your lap was too hard, so you had slunk off the couch onto your knees to use the coffee table as a better surface and Agatha had groaned. 
You had looked up in concern to find her fingers digging into her thighs so tightly her knuckles were white and you could see a faint tent in her pants. 
“Do you need some help with that?” You had asked, eyes wide and feeling like you were in a dream. Of course you had a crush on Agatha, she was powerful and bossy and the hottest woman you’d ever seen, but you had been convinced she would never even think of you as anything more than a subordinate. 
It was stupid to offer, she was probably going to report you to HR the next day, but she had made a small sound and gave an affirmative jerk of her head, and the next thing you knew, she had pulled out her cock and you were sucking her off right there in her office. 
Turns out, the other attorneys had been right. 
Agatha was in a much better mood the next day, actually saying thank you to the intern who brought her morning coffee instead of ignoring him completely. 
That night three months ago was the start of a mutual coworkers-with-benefits relationship, if you could call it that. You had brought it up to Agatha one time and she had snorted before fondly telling you to go bother someone else. 
With the end of the quarter coming up though, there had been a lot more late nights, including last night, when Agatha had stopped you from getting into your car after working until ten pm and dragged you into her company car, her mouth on yours before the partition between the backseat and the driver had gotten all the way up. 
The two of you had fucked for close to an hour when you had gotten back to Agatha’s penthouse apartment and promptly passed out. 
And you’re hoping more than anything that today, a planned day off, is full of more of Agatha’s cock inside you. 
Your boss stirs next to you, exhaling heavily, and when she presses her hips against you, you can feel her half-hardened length. It instantly sends a thrill straight to your stomach and you slowly inch down the covers to reveal your still-naked bodies. 
You reach out your hand and run your thumb over her nipple, watching it pebble quickly, and then skim your fingertips down the smooth skin of her back, a trail of goosebumps following. She’s laying on her side facing you so you’re able to watch her eyebrows knit together slightly. Your hand reaches her hip and then slides down and you’re about to touch her cock when she suddenly grabs your wrist. 
It makes you jump. Agatha’s blue eyes flutter open to meet your surprised ones. 
“What are you doing, babygirl?” She rasps, voice still hoarse with sleep, and it makes you shudder. 
“I thought I’d help you out with your problem,” you tease. 
Agatha hums thoughtfully, letting go of your hand and stroking her cock. You watch with rapt fascination as it hardens fully under her touch and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try and satiate the burning feeling in your stomach. “I think that’s only fair,” she decides. “seeing as it’s your fault I’m turned on.” 
You grin and maneuver her onto her back and straddle her thighs, bending over her to suck her nipple into your mouth. She makes a muffled sound and her hips jerk up, her now-leaking cock brushing against your stomach. You tease her for a minute or two before kissing down her stomach and you scrape your teeth against her hip bone. 
By the time you get to her cock, she’s already thrusting gently against nothing for stimulation, red, hard, and messy and when you run your tongue up the length while holding eye contact, she lets out a loud moan and her hand flies to your hair. You trace the vein on the side until she’s practically whimpering, legs shaking beneath you, and then you take the tip into your mouth and suck. 
Agatha keens and her back arches off the bed. “Fuck,” she mumbles. “God, babygirl, your mouth feels so good.” 
You move your head down her cock and you feel her pulse in your mouth and her hips jump, shoving herself further into your throat. You gag and she groans and you start to move faster, Agatha throbbing inside your mouth and –
– her phone rings. 
Agatha swears and scrambles to answer it, barking out a “What?” right as you swallow around her cock. She fixes you with a warning glare as you laugh, the vibrations forcing her to clamp a hand over her mouth. 
You hold her stare and take the whole thing into your mouth, rubbing your tongue against her and her head falls back onto the pillow. It’s getting harder for her to stay quiet, especially with you bobbing up and down her cock and she eventually has to pull you off her before she inevitably cums into your mouth while on the phone. 
So you just watch her, licking your lips and taking a moment to breathe. She’s getting more and more pissed by the minute, eyes becoming dark and angry, a frown etching onto her face, and you can hear the other person saying something about a contract and a multi-million dollar deal and how the company could be fucked without it, and when Agatha’s erection slowly softens, you know what it means. 
She hangs up the phone and your head falls onto her stomach dramatically. “Do we have to?” You groan and Agatha huffs out a sigh. 
“Stark Industries might be pulling out unless we amend some of the clauses in that contract. We need to go in,” she says. 
“Can I at least finish you off first?” You offer and her cock twitches at the thought. 
Agatha chews on her lip like she’s seriously considering it, but then pats your cheek. “Maybe later, babygirl.” 
You roll your eyes and flop onto the bed and she chuckles as she gets up and pulls some clothes out of her drawer. She puts on a navy blue suit and tosses an outfit at you, a black pencil skirt and white blouse. 
“Let’s go,” she orders, never out of boss mode for too long. You petulantly make your movements as slow as possible until she threatens to spank you for it later, and although it doesn’t really seem like it’d be much of a punishment, you hurry up. 
She grabs two apples from her fridge, hands one to you, and calls her car. The driver is waiting right outside when you get down to the lobby and you slide in after her. 
“You know what I’d rather be doing?” You ask conversationally after leaning forward to press the button for the partition to go up. 
Agatha’s scrolling on her phone and hums in acknowledgement. 
“Sucking your cock,” you answer and Agatha stiffens. “I love the taste of you, love how you lose composure for me, love how it feels when you cum in my mouth.” 
She’s biting her lip now and you can see the outline of her rapidly hardening cock in her pants. You reach out and put your hand on the bulge and she grits her teeth, still turned on from earlier. 
“Honey,” she warns through a clenched jaw. “Don’t.”
But you don’t listen. You slowly start to move your fingers, stroking up and down and feeling her throb in her pants. She swallows roughly and she’s getting harder, a flush settling into her cheeks and neck. 
You lean in and flick your tongue against her earlobe and she shivers. 
“Don’t let this think you’re in charge,” she says tightly. “You just wait until we get back to my apartment. I’ll remind you.” 
You laugh. “Really? Cause it feels like I’m holding a lot of the power right now.” And to emphasize your point, you give her cock a tight squeeze, immensely enjoying the way she groans. 
“You’re going to be on your knees,” she says in a low, gruff voice. It ignites your stomach. “My cock down your throat, and then I’m going to cum all over that pretty little face and you’re going to thank me for it.” 
The image securely mounts itself in your mind and you gasp. 
“And then, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress until you can’t remember your name and all you’re going to feel is my cock deep inside you,” she continues and you can feel your mind going foggy. Your hand has stopped moving, but you can feel just how much the thought is affecting her, too. 
“Fuck,” you whisper, your underwear practically sticking to you. Agatha smirks triumphantly, now both of you overwhelmingly turned on, but the joke is on both of you when the driver pulls up in front of the office building. 
You both groan and reluctantly get out of the car, despite you asking Agatha for five more minutes. The cold air in the lobby does little to quell the heat in your stomach and you drag your feet on the way to the elevator. 
Much to your surprise, there’s quite a lot of other employees working on this Saturday, most of them not from your law firm, so when the doors open and everyone steps on, all different numbers are pressed. 
With fifty-five floors, it’s one of the taller skyscrapers in the area, and the executives of the law firm are on the top. There’s at least twenty other stops on the elevator ride and you roll your eyes and follow Agatha straight to the back corner, turning around so your back is facing her. 
You go up one floor and the doors ding. Five more people get in and you’re practically on top of Agatha now with how packed it is. You move your body sideways to make more room, your hip knocking against Agatha. 
“Sorry,” you murmur and she makes a small sound, hand coming up to ruffle her hair. You pull out your phone and you’re scrolling through emails, clicking on one from one of the paralegals asking for advice about a case they’re working on and typing out a quick response, when you hear Agatha sharply inhale. 
And then you feel it. 
You had thought that once you’d gotten out of the car and you were no longer directly and purposely touching her, she would calm down. 
That is clearly not the case. 
This is the hardest she’s been all morning. 
You try and catch her eye, which takes longer than it should because of how hard she’s trying not to look at you. 
Really? You mouth when she finally gives in. 
Agatha turns uncharacteristically red and you feel your body flush. You had no idea you could affect her this much and it’s seriously turning you on. 
She tries to turn her hips away but there’s no room so your boss has no choice other than to keep her throbbing cock pressed against you. 
The elevator dings at the eighth floor. One person gets out. You tilt your head up at Agatha and find a slight sheen of sweat on her cheeks and glassy eyes. She’s staring straight ahead, lips pursed tightly together, looking like she’s in sweet, agonizing pain. 
How much stimulation is she getting right now? You’re not moving, she’s not moving, and yet she sometimes doesn’t even look like this when she’s inside you. 
Should you be offended? You decide to not be, based on what you’ve put her through this morning. 
Eleventh floor. Three people get off and she sucks in a deep breath when you can finally step away from her. Your eyes flicker down to the very visible tent in her pants and you clench your thighs together. She watches you and you swear you can see her cock throb through the navy fabric of her pants. 
Twentieth floor. More people get in and you’re pushed back against her. She lets out a small gasp and you gently lay your fingers on her wrist. 
Agatha shudders and you can feel your wetness on your inner thighs. You might have to go to the bathroom when you get out of the elevator and take care of yourself. 
Not like you would last more than three minutes right now. 
Your boss is now fully staring at you, barely any blue left in her eyes, a look you’ve never seen before on her face. 
It’s thrilling. 
Thirty-third floor. More people file out, muttering excuse me and sorry as they wade through the crowd. 
Now there’s more room in the elevator, enough room where you could step away from Agatha and give yourselves both some breathing room. 
You don’t move. 
Agatha is taking deep, slow breaths, her cheeks surely burning to the touch right now, and at least she’s wearing a dark color to hide the stain she is assuredly going to have on her pants. 
Babygirl, she mouths pleadingly when you finally look at her again and you have to stifle a moan at how needy she looks right now. 
And what kind of person would you be if you didn’t help her out? 
You’ve been standing perpendicular to her, your hip and side of your right leg pressed against her body. 
Fiftieth floor. 
Mostly everyone has cleared out by now. 
You slowly turn your body to face the doors, making sure to carefully drag your ass against her, and her hand grips onto your arm with a vice-like grip from behind you. 
She twitches and pulses and then throbs, and you can feel warmth spread on the back of your – her skirt as she cums in her pants, ever-so-slightly rutting against you. Agatha lets out a muffled groan, followed by a cough for show; there’s still three other people in the elevator. 
The elevator dings on the fifty-fifth floor and Agatha takes a shaky breath as the two of you exit. You feel like you’re burning up and each step you take reminds you of how much of a mess you’ve become. 
“You okay?” You murmur as you walk down aisles of cubicles. 
Agatha weakly laughs. “Next time I’ll just let you finish sucking me off before coming to work.” 
The thought makes you smirk and she opens the door to her office, holding it for you. She walks around her desk and pulls out a pair of underwear and pants for herself (you’ve both started having to keep extra clothes for times like these) and she beckons you into the private bathroom attached. 
You eagerly follow, and you’re even more thrilled when she slams you against the wall and sinks to her knees. Her hooded eyes look up at you as she pushes up the skirt you’re wearing and your head drops back with a gasp escaping from your lips when her mouth sucks on your pussy through your panties. 
Agatha quickly moves them to the side, having enough of her own teasing, and buries her tongue inside you and it pulls an obscene moan from deep in your chest. 
It feels so fucking good and you’re already on the edge from getting Agatha all worked up this morning. She chuckles at how wet you are, how you’re already getting her face soaked, and she swirls her tongue around your clit and your hips roll, chasing more. 
She brings you right to your orgasm – it’s almost embarrassing how quickly it happens – and you’re shaking, trembling, begging, but she stops. 
“No, Agatha, please,” you whine, hand in her hair and trying to push her back against you, but she stands back up and licks her lips. The bottom half of her face is glistening, shiny with your wetness in the harsh light of the bathroom. 
She pouts mocking and makes quick work of turning around and changing her clothes while you frantically start to rub yourself with your own fingers. You’re so close–
“Uh uh,” she tuts, catching your eye in the mirror. You almost sob and she whirls back around to suck your fingers into her mouth. They slip out with a pop! “You got me all worked up until I came in my pants like a fucking teenager, babygirl. You think I’m going to let that slide? You think you’re in charge? Well, now I’m going to get you all worked up and you will not be cumming until we’re back in my apartment, got it?” 
All you can do is whimper and the grin she gives you is wicked. With one pat to your cheek, she pushes you out of the bathroom just in time for one of the attorneys, Alice Wu, to come into her office. 
Agatha slides into her chair while you awkwardly stand next to her desk while Alice lays a contract on it. 
You can’t even pretend to be paying attention, still focused on the orgasm you were just denied and how maybe if you just press your legs together really hard–
Agatha says your name. Probably not the first time she’s said it, judging by her annoyed tone, but when you look at her, she winks, like she knows exactly what you’re thinking. 
You roll your eyes, step closer so you’re next to Agatha, and lean over so you can see what Alice is talking about. You have to repress a gasp when you feel your boss’s hand tracing up the back of your thigh through your skirt, just low enough so no one can see. 
Agatha watches you carefully out of her peripheral vision, the corners of her mouth tugging up in a smirk. 
You are fucked.  
293 notes · View notes
curlyfriesgalore · 3 days ago
Text
"let it all out, baby."
Tumblr media
you've been dating daisuke for a while, already growing accustomed to his body and behavior, but something was off. nothing break-up-worthy, far from it, but you're a little concerned with how quiet he's been in bed.
so one "night," when swansea is too drunk out of his mind, anya is busy caring for curly, and jimmy is doing fuck all, you and daisuke spend some quality time in your room, which miraculously survives the foam.
one thing led to another, and now you're giving him head. however, as much as you want to get lost in your lust, you can't help but focus on his face—not out of your usual affection, but to analyze him.
Tumblr media
★ a smut-shot broken down into bullets with dialogue sectioned off into chat-format segments. [2,697 words]
☆ gen tags: post-crash. gn! reader is anya's intern, but your job isn't mentioned in the fic (it's just for lore's sake). daisuke is insecure in his masculinity (some angst). set in our year all because i reference one meme lol.
★ nsfw tags MDNI: dom reader. sub daisuke. fellatio and a handjob. neck biting and nipple sucking. so much whimpering!!!
[ahh, posting again because i found a fic i made for another character two years ago, so i decided to rework it! i was actually really glad to find this 'cause i've been wanting to write daisuke smut, but currently my nsfw drafts are all curly. art by washitquickly on twt —iris🌠]
Tumblr media
daisuke squirms as you lap your tongue around the head of his velvety dick, your spit blending with his sweet and sour slick. he digs his gapped teeth deep into his chapped lip. his mouth is in a tight crease, eyes squished shut with brows deep in concentration, wrinkling his lightly pimpled forehead.
he looks so out of breath, yet zilch emerges from that man's mouth. you wonder if your skills have worsened since the crash. maybe it was stress? but no, you knew that couldn't've been the case. your licks have always made him involuntarily writhe in pleasure, and your breath alone was enough to make precum shoot out of his soft slit.
speaking of which, you did exactly that, and a high-pitched moan ensues, finally.
you groan along with him, feeling his clear fluid slide down your throat. when your voice vibrates its low hum, shivers trickle down daisuke's aching cock. it's enough for him to jolt, flutter his eyes open, and mewl out a squeaky whimper.
you look up in awe, expecting to see your loverboy in pure ecstasy, but your heart drops. all you see is his hand clamped over his mouth, eyes wide in horror: the farthest thing from rapture.
gently, you remove yourself, the sensation of smooth skin lingering in your mouth as a trail of saliva connects your lip to his tip. with your hands still on his thighs, you felt him tremble under your palms.
daisuke pulls his legs towards his chest, encasing them within his arms as he buries half his face into his knees. his brows dent into his temple. he mumbles what sounds like an apology and wipes his face against his hinge joints. worry washes away your arousal in an instant.
carefully, you unfold his arms, spreading his legs to reveal the gorgeous mess you so deeply love. you crawl on top of him, resting your stomach on his, feeling his liquid lather onto your abdomen as you softly cradle his chin, bringing his face to yours.
as you thumb away the tiny tears dripping down his acne-scarred cheeks, he carefully brings his gaze to you, revealing the sea of tears swimming in his dark eyes. daisuke looks like a sad puppy, hurt and desperate for his partner's forgiveness, yet you are unsure as to why he's reacting this way.
he tries to gulp down the cries congested in his throat, attempting to force an explanation, but his reasons refuse to be revealed. for a man who spoke so many words, he felt too embarrassed to say any.
so, rather than letting him hurt himself any further, you envelop his warm body in your arms. daisuke silently melts as you comb your fingers through his sweaty hair, caressing his scalp as you try to piece things together. you think back to all the times you guys have had sex.
time and time again, you remember how quietly he'd finish. no matter how intensely his body shook from your touch, nothing but a small sigh would leave his panting chest. daisuke could be a puddle of sweat, drool coating his chin, eyes rolled all the way back as he failed to wait for your cue to let him cum all over your stomach—and yet, the only thing missing were the sounds of his moans.
you didn't question it at first, assuming he was, ironically enough, a quiet guy in bed, but things weren't adding up.
whenever you sneak attack his sides, tickling the air out of him, daisuke would shriek as if he'd witnessed the murder of his favorite pokémon. his face contorts into the physical embodiment of the 'ash baby.'
then there was another time, a month before the crash, when it was jimmy's turn for movie night. the co-pilot pulled up with his favorite horror film, intending to creep the skin off of everyone, and it nearly did for daisuke. he screeched so hard, practically ripping your eardrums, and lunged himself onto you, toppling the others over like dominoes on the couch.
(you recall a very tired captain curly lecturing a sheepish daisuke, telling him to be more careful with his surroundings, as anya aided swansea's sore back while jimmy snickered to himself next to you).
countless times proved how reactive he was, besides the obvious fact that this man does not have an off button. so, for him to be completely silent during sex didn't make any sense.
well, he wasn't completely. you've heard his soft moans and hushed whimpers escape from daisuke, unbeknownst to him, but you knew he could be much louder than that.
like, hello? he's the daisuke juarez, the guy (in)famously known for talking on and on for days without fail; surely, he could groan the life out of his lungs.
because, clearly, he wants to.
he needs to.
but you didn't know why he was so adamant about being super quiet. you wanted an answer so you wouldn't have to constantly try to get a read on his suppressions. and, by the looks of it, you're about to get one.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
you cup his face and caress his warm jaw. daisuke delicately places his hand on top of yours and strokes it back, rolling his thumb against your knuckles.
"can we talk now?" your question drifts into the soft rumbles of the ship.
daisuke carefully nods, one last garbled sob croaking out his throat before he responds, "y-yeah..."
"tell me. what's wrong, baby?" you ask softly as your hand dances around his face, your fingers tracing his features, wet from tears.
"um, do i..." daisuke pauses, briefly breathing in some much-needed air, "do i sound weird when i—y'know—uh, moan...?" he leans his cheek into your palm, and you feel the bumpy indentations in his skin flush into yours. his sights are set on everything but you.
your brows knit, but clarity relaxes the knot in your shoulders. "d'aww, baby..." you pout. "is that what this is?" daisuke, slowly attempting to match your eyes, purses his lips with another nod.
shaking your head, you bring his chin closer to yours, "no, no... not at all, dai." you press your lips into his pursed ones, tenderly transferring your love to him and relieving his tight kiss into its original plumpness. you pull away, resting your forehead against his, "i've always found them very cute..."
"if anything," you chuckle, "i wish you moaned more." finally, he looks at you, and you're met with wide eyes and lifted brows, "really?"
now it's your turn to quirk your brow. "of course, really! what makes you think i'd feel otherwise?" daisuke laughs at that and eats his lips, looking up at the metal ceiling as he sifts through his memory box.
"well- i don't know, i mean, back on earth," you catch a brief dullness in his gaze, "i once heard the girls in my class talk about how weird some guys sound when they moan, and like," daisuke drums his fingers on your forearm, "when i asked, they'd say any dude who sounded too much like them?" when he looks at you, he falters, "ach- how do i say it?"
your eyes narrow, struggling to understand that train of thought. daisuke frowned, not at you but at the following words, "it was something like 'oh! men who whimper are soOo icky to me' and 'dudes should sound deep, not like...'" daisuke winces, heaving a frustrated sigh as he continues to mimic those girls. "'...whatever weak subby boy bullshit that's been circulating online—' i know, it's stupid." he immediately stops when he sees your grimace.
you blink your eyes shut, shaking your head and sighing when you peel them open. "so," your hand wipes over your mouth. "you ended up adopting that?" you ask, tucking your thumb under your chin as your index rests on your bottom lip, elbow propped up on one knee.
"i mean, sort of?" daisuke moves his hands to rub circles on your bare sides, "when i realized that i moan like," daisuke air quotes, "a 'weak subby boy,' i got really embarrassed and well- forced myself to sound more like a man, i guess..." the shame in his face, apparent.
you hum, taking in the information as he continues to explain his insecurities. daisuke tells you all the times he's been egged on by his guy friends for how he sounds when he'd whine after getting hit by a baseball ball (when that shit HURTS for anybody, daisuke emphasizes) or how often his friend group would point out his squeals, joking about how he'd never get laid with a voice like that. the thing is, he consciously understands that his classmates are biased individuals, so daisuke knows that there's no real point for him to act all secretive with his sounds. but he can't help it. he worries that letting himself just... be himself, in this context specifically, might make you find him less attractive.
"hUH?!" you exclaim, making daisuke jump. you're so baffled that you grab his face and squish his cheeks with all the affection your squeeze can imbue. he looks at you, doe-eyed with lips puffed out like a fish. "i—first of all, what an absolutely shitty thing to say to your friend, let alone do it daily. and second of all, not every man moans the same. just 'cause yours is a little higher doesn't make you any less of one..." he attempts to defend them, wanting to say that they weren't that bad, but you hush him, reading through his lie before he could assess it himself. then, when you rationalize his insecurity, he tightens his lip, taking in your opinion as you continued to speak against the toxicity of his friends. noticing he's gone quiet, you rub his cheek, changing your tone into something much softer. "daisuke."
"yesh...?"
as your serious stare delves deep into his soul, you reassure him, "there is no one—and i mean, no one—in this universe that i love more than you."
"oomph, i shink your beftfriends whould be mhad if they hurd thath." daisuke jokes, and you roll your eyes, shushing him as you stifle your laugh, "hey, i'm being serious here...!" to which daisuke chuckles and nods for you to continue, mouthing an 'i love you, too.'
you sigh, "your whimpers... are the cutest, most adorable noises i'll ever hear in my life, and i don't want you to shut them up, ever. i mean it."
"mph- reallhy?" the innocence in his voice made you squish the sides of his face harder as you hummed in agreement, "really."
"i want to hear them," you take a moment to sit up, straddling his thighs as you wrap your fingers around his dick, it instantly springs. "over... and over... and over again." with every pause, you stroke him. your palm tugs at his cock from the hairs on his abdomen to his soaked tip. daisuke chokes out a gasp, his legs squirming as he gulps, "a-ah, fuck... baby." his body trembles, randomly jerking with every drag of his thick cock.
"nothing will ever change the way i see you," you press your lips onto his jaw, feeling the tiniest stubble. "how sweet you are, how handsome you look, or how good you sound to me." you trail kisses down his neck, and latch onto the edge of his adam's apple, nibbling a whimper out of him.
"if anything, your moans make me love you even more than i already do." as you peck along his chest, his whines squeal breathlessly, and his whimpers exceed his vocal cords. every compliment you throw at him sends his brain into autopilot.
"ngh, mh..." none of daisuke's words made any sense, his mouth melding into mush while yours formed dark hickeys on all his right spots. he was panting uncontrollably. looking down at you with those half-lidded eyes of his, ones leaking with so much love and lust. he grips the sheets with one hand while the other carefully combes through your hair.
your mouth was now at level with his nipple. you watch it harden in anticipation as he edges his chest a little closer to your lips, making you chuckle at how needy your boyfriend's gotten. "now, before i let you cum, i want you to be as loud as you possibly can be, okay? for me, baby."
he nods, loving your coos, but uncertainty nearly cockblocks him, "w-wait, babe, what if everyone hears me?" daisuke watches you huff a laugh, "like anyone's cared about us fucking before." you both chuckle, and daisuke relaxes, "oh right, hehe."
"even if someone hears," you lightly circle his nipple, the tiny bumps on its dark epidermis sliding so perfectly against your thumb. daisuke's dick twitches, already biting his lip at the sight of your tongue inches away from his chest's nub. you continue, breathing hot on daisuke's skin. "they get to know how beautiful my baby boy sounds in bed."
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
daisuke's breathing gradually quickens at the heat. when you finally lick his nipple, his cry is instantaneous. it's the prettiest noise you've ever heard, pulling at your heartstrings as a rush surges through your abdomen.
you close your eyes and focus on stroking his dick with every lick you make, his adorable moans filling the air. the way you roll your fingers and wedge them on the damp head, massaging the precum out his slit, melts daisuke, turning him into a pathetic, panting puddle in your arms. he absentmindedly ruts into your hand out of pure pleasure, sliding his slick all over your skin.
soon enough, his whimpers peaked, his voice consuming the room. you knew he was reaching his high based on the synchronization of his thrusts and your pumps. bed sheets crumple under his fist, and his other hand no longer on your hair but on the small of your back, squeezing your waist as he tries to travel down to knead your ass.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
"babe, i'm close...! i'm so close." daisuke blabbers between mewls, his hands clutching onto your hips for support. he spills all of him into your palms, creating a wet patch underneath his thighs. you intensify your already vigorous pumping, simultaneously pinching a nipple as you bite the other, "come on, baby... you're almost there." "i'm cumming—fuck— 'm cumm...ing, nghnghm! ohmygod...!" intense shudders siphon through daisuke's bloodstream, his whole body convulsing as he feels his milk bud, moments away from dripping out his sore slit. "let it all out, baby." you coo, tonguing his nipple with your wet love.
─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───
with one final groan, his cum drenches your hand as he arches his back so far that it nearly sends you falling. all that fills your ears are the sounds of your boyfriend's sweet sobs, easing into an aching sigh.
after tugging his cock with a few more strokes, daisuke collapses further into the bed, his head lying so far back into the pillow that you can see his adam's apple bob after every gasp and gulp. your lips leave his nipple, and he shivers from the cold air hitting his wet skin.
as he's catching his breath, you stretch your back and crane your spine far enough to feel every bubble in your ligament pop down your bones. after rolling your neck side to side, you get a good look at daisuke, who is disheveled and disoriented.
you chuckle and lift his head up, daisuke's teary eyes akin to those of a desperate puppy. you bring your sticky fingers to your mouth, swallowing his sweetness, and daisuke watches, thirsty for a taste.
smiling at the drool dripping down his puffy lips, you bring your face to him, gracing him with a smooch. the kiss muffles his deep moan. his tongue explores yours, devouring his own dick with what lingers on your papillae.
daisuke pouts when you pull away, but before he whines, you wrap your hands behind his neck, sitting yourself up and pulling him into your chest. he sighs into the hug, embracing you as much as he physically can while you massage his wet and messy hair. you kiss his scalp and softly praise him for being such a good boy.
Tumblr media
[i was going to expand on the post crash aspect but i got wayyy too tired. but know that the story was originally going to have an afab reader, where you ride daisuke till he cums inside you, so i'd then add a line about how you couldn't care less about getting bred 'cause you were probably dying on the tulpar, anyway 😭 so it was going to be a LOT more angsty. i also intended to write a segment (after he admits his insecurity) of him missing earth and the structure of a home so badly that he's developed a mommy kink, so i could use it later when you guys go back to sexing buuut oopsies. i'll save that for another time 🫠. —iris🌠]
Tumblr media
367 notes · View notes
secriden · 7 hours ago
Text
One of my favourite things about the way Fadel's plan (to "make them [Style] fall in love with us [me]") plays out is that when he dials up his affection and goes all out on the sweet flirtation and tenderness, Style immediately finds it weird and strange and suspicious and off-putting. Fadel pretending to be #whipped actually makes Style pull away like none of Fadel's aggression and violence and outright rejection did -- because it wasn't sincere, and Style could sense that.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
When Fadel first drags Style out and starts peppering kisses on his face, Style turns away from his kisses and pulls back/pushes Fadel away from him to start questioning why Fadel is acting so strange. This is the same person who later propositions Fadel in a public bathroom whilst knowing one of the stalls is currently occupied by a stranger, so whilst I fully acknowledge Style probably genuinely did not want his dad to see them necking in his place of work, I'm also convinced it wasn't the only reason.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Because when Fadel allows some honesty to slip out, when he says "Don't you ever think that I'm only like this because of you?", Style actually softens and turns into Fadel's kiss for the first time in the scene. His hands go from pushing upwards at Fadel's neck to clenching softly against his shoulder and upper arm, like he's finally able to relax and hold Fadel closer (you can actually see the difference in these screenshots compared to the ones above). Style stops resisting and sinks into the kiss, lets his eyes almost slip close because something in him recognises that Fadel spoke true.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The same thing happens in Style's bedroom when Fadel continues his charade: Style is smiling, but there's a distinctly uncomfortable and awkward air about it, and he actually pulls away when Fadel continues to sniff-kiss him while going on and on about loving the way Style smells like gasoline. Fadel tries to be clingy again and Style outright calls him out on how weird he's being, so Fadel is forced to backtrack into sincerity:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Suddenly, Style's wariness turns to excitement and interest; he happily agrees to come along and asks what he should get Bison as a gift. Fadel is literally torturing himself to keep up this excessive affection and tenderness (the away Fadel's softness and sweetness just drops once Style goes to take that shower. Ugh. T_T) and gets nothing from Style until he offers something genuine -- a request for time to celebrate someone Fadel truly loves.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
In fact, it's the pieces of honesty (or at least I'm assuming that this is also true since he was honest about Bison's birthday), and only those, that Style responds positively to. We have seen Style flirting constantly in previous episodes but he literally has not said anything scandalous or suggestive so far, nor has he initiated any affection even once until this moment.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
And the reason why I love all this SO MUCH is because it really shows the evidence of Style's words before he even says them. In the midst of all the secrets and lies between them, ever since he found out about Fadel's secret and decided he was going to keep pursing him anyway, Style has been chasing and chasing Fadel's sincerity. And each precious revelation that Fadel gave him -- his parents' murder, his inability to trust, his desire for something genuine from Style -- has been carefully stored away in Style's heart like nuggets of gold. Which is why Fadel's performance was doomed from the start; because Style was moved by the true things and not the lies, and Fadel's pretensions can have no effect when Style's heart now has the ability to recognise that which he has already grown to love.
98 notes · View notes
etherealrin · 3 days ago
Note
PLEASE more rin x reader with the friends to lovers trope
₊˚⊹♡ 0x1=lovesong?!
Tumblr media
the three times your childhood best friend itoshi rin realizes that he loves you + the one time he says it
warnings: none // wc: 3.8k
note: hai i hope this delivers what you wanted! fic + title loosely inspired by txt's 0x1=lovesong. female reader, kinda messy writing & ik that sae returns to japan when its winter but i make the rules here so it's actually summer. badly proofread!
Tumblr media
one.
the first time itoshi rin met you was when he was a toddler, on a sunny, cloudless day at the park.
rin stared dejectedly at the bright green, now malformed, chunk of plastic he held in his tiny hands. it had previously been a dinosaur figure, possibly his favorite one so far too.
of course he had to break it and ruin the fun for himself.
rin's head whipped around, left, right, left, right—he was looking for comfort, in the form of his older brother sae—who was nowhere to be found. it dawned on him that even then, in a bustling playground full of lively kindergarteners, itoshi rin found himself alone. a zero in a world of ones.
as he sat there on the sidewalk, mourning his latest tragedy, the last thing he expected was for a little girl to approach him.
"hi," you said shyly. rin tore his gaze away from the broken pieces of his toy and looked up at you, curiousity in his eyes. you were pretty, he thought immediately. although you were both barely four, there was a simple elegance in the way you held yourself, and an obvious kindness in your delicate features. he wondered why you had chosen to approach him when so few of his peers ever did.
"hi," rin repeated back at you, exhaling sharply.
"um, do you want to play family with us?" you stuttered a little as you asked, motioning to three other children behind you. even at the age of four, rin's teal eyed gaze was still piercing. "we need someone to be the dad."
you wanted him to be the dad? rin rarely recieved invitations to play with other children, let alone was he well-versed in this game called family. but for some strange reason, he really wanted to try it. maybe it was because of you. you who had noticed his despair and tried to save him, in your own way.
"okay," he said decidedly, looking at you and your group of friends with wide eyes.
"yay! we can play for real now!" you squealed to the kids behind you. "my name is l/n y/n," you stated, staring at him expectantly. oh. you wanted to know what his name was.
"itoshi. itoshi rin."
"okay itoshi-chan, let's go!" and then you were dragging him off to the playstructure and under the slides, where your "house" was.
"just rin is okay," rin blurted out. "i have a brother so itoshi is confusing anyway."
"okay, rin-chan it is then! let's be friends!" your joyful grin made rin's tiny heart twist with a feeling he didn't understand. why did it make him so happy to be wanted by you? why did you even want to be his friend in the first place?
"alright!" he replied with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
rin doesn't remember much else from that day, but he knows that it was one of the better memories he holds from his childhood.
two.
a lot had transpired since that fateful day at the park, and the two of you were attending the same junior high as first-years. somehow, you had wound up in a majority of the same elementary school classes as well, thus you and rin formed a tight-knit friendship. twelve year old rin was going through somewhat of an edgy phase (that he never really grew out of.) hence, he was also going through a period where he was even more tight-lipped in class, despite his growing popularity. recruited by his older brother sae, rin had fallen into the clutches of soccer since first grade, and he had something that could only be described as a genius talent for the ball game. he was the only first-year who had made the soccer team, and rumors were that he was likely next in line for the position of captain, which was usually exclusively given to third years. he had soccer practice almost daily now, and you had art club after school, meaning your schedules aligned. as soccer practice often ran late, you developed a habit of making your way over to the fields after art club was finished to wait for rin. then the two of you would walk home together. rin never put too much thought into the simple act of you waiting for him, until one afternoon, you weren't there.
huh? he had thought. maybe you were running late or something? rin had just finished the last of his laps around the grassy field, and he surveyed his suroundings with slight dissapontment. you really weren't there?
"itoshi-kun, what's up?" a second year asked him, noticing his odd demeanor.
"nothing," rin quickly answered. but a slight frown stuck to his face, though the older decided not to push it. rin found himself yearning to see your face, missing the back and forth banter that was so ingrained into his day.
"right well, happy birthday! get home soon," his teammate wished him, walking away. birthday? with a jolt, rin realized that the boy was right, it was, in fact, september ninth. he had never really enjoyed his birthday that much, given it was too close to the beginning of the new school year and just reminded him of how much longer he would have to suffer before summer break. rin started for the cool metal benches where his soccer bag was, beginning to pack up his things and change out of his cleats.
"hey, underlashes!" a voice suddenly cut through his thoughts. so you were here after all? rin dropped his shoes.
"y/n, i really don't appreciate the brother reference," he complained. secretly, he was relieved to hear your teasing. he'd never admit that he didn't mind the nickname that you had given him after you proclaimed that the itoshi brothers had under eyelashes longer than should be humanly possible. something about it was rather endearing.
"oh, cheer up," you began. "you'll be thanking me after this one." rin took a proper look at you and bit back a laugh. you looked like you had just run a marathon given how your red your face was, paired with the small beads of sweat trickling past your forehead. yet somehow, each lock of your hair still fell perfectly to frame your face. you smirked and shoved a small white box into his hands. "i had to run to get here in time, ya know?"
rin looked at the box quizically, recognizing the logo of his favorite bakery in an instant. he untied the pale blue ribbon holding it together and inhaled deeply, content.
happy birthday rin! was written on the small matcha cheesecake that you had gifted him. the small motion makes his heart swell.
"i thought you might like matcha since you like ochazuke so much," you explained.
"i do like it," rin's voice comes out softer than he meant it to. the same old odd feeling was back in his chest. he still couldn't quite place it. it made him naseous and somewhat giddy, like a kid high on cotton candy. he didn't know if he hated it or loved it.
"happy thirteenth, rin!" he felt the familiar, inviting warmth of your smile, and suddenly all was right in the world. as you sang happy birthday to him and slapped a party hat atop his messy dark hair, rin felt like you were the only two people on earth. he felt like he was home, more so than he ever did in his own room. you had a way of bringing that sensation to him, through the nine years he had known you.
after you had finished belting out the last notes of the melody, rin said with a slight grimace, "thirteen is an unlucky number."
"you're not superstitious, so shut it! don't jinx yourself!" you reprimanded him. "oh, but speaking of, i got you that new horror game that you wanted. it hasn't come yet though, it's still being shipped."
"really?" oh how rin's eyes and facade lit up at the mention of the video game.
"yeah, you can go curse yourself all you want once it's here."
"...thanks." itoshi rin was often described as a cold boy. and you were just about the only person he could open up to. rin questioned for a second if it was normal for him to feel that ecstatic over a mere video game.
"hey, look! the sun's setting!" you exclaimed, poking his shoulder lightly. rin's train of thought stalled, instead choosing to direct his attention towards the patch of sky which you were pointing at. streaks of yellow, orange, and red danced across his vision as the sun became slowly swallowed by the earth. "it's beautiful, isn't it?" you asked him.
rin turned to meet your gaze and almost passed out. he swore you looked like an angel sent from heaven itself in the glowing warmth of the sunset, you beamed at him. had you always looked like this? your eyes shone like a million stars, and he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his own mouth. if you had asked him if he was blushing, he'd say no way in hell, but truthfully his face was a little red and it definitely wasn't from his previous workout. rin was suddenly reminded of how he felt when he met you.
"yeah," he breathed. "it's nice." what he really wanted to say was that you were nice, not the sunset. the sunset, for all its glory, was barely lukewarm compared to you. no, that wasn't it. you were radiant, and rin had known that from the very moment he saw you, so many years ago. but for now, he'd have to settle for just this, whatever your friendship was, he was much too scared to lose it.
three.
a little over two years had gone by since that evening when you had celebrated his birthday with him, and the end of rin's third, final year in junior high was approaching. sae had left for spain, scouted by the top soccer club there, and rin wanted more than anything to follow in his footsteps, to be the second best striker in the world after his brother itoshi sae. though sae's leaving had left him a bit lonelier, your friendship was still as easy-going as ever, and rin prayed that it would never change, as sappy as it sounded. he also tried (and failed) to ignore the increased stares between you two, that seemed to take place everywhere. sometimes, he thought that there was some sort of romantic tension between you two, and there had definitely been no shortage of mixed signals. maybe there was a hint of yearning in both your expressions? that year, the only class you shared with him was advanced mathematics, and he loathed the subject immensely. he likely would have cut class entirely if it weren't the only time of day he saw you that wasn't during lunch.
and it's during lunch one day in the month of february that you asked rin something, almost causing him to choke on his noodles.
"she what?" rin askwed between strangled coughs.
"yumi-chan wants to know if you're thinking of giving anyone chocolates for valentine's day," you repeated to him. was rin dense or something? either he was just that, extremely dense, or he chose to ignore his ever-growing fanclub. girls had begun to gush over him after he had been picked for the soccer team's captain last year, and it was also that previous valentine's that rin had recieved about a hundred confessions, ranging from girls in your grade to underclassmen, to even your seniors. you tried to pretend like the fact didn’t bug you, but it nagged you in all the wrong ways. your only saving grace is your recollection of how last year, rin had just stood there awkwardly, accepting gifts yet not seeming satisfied with any of them. he looked as if he were waiting for someone's confession, one that never came.
you never asked him about it though, not wanting to dance between the border of normal questioning from a friend and being plain nosy. however, you did mull over it from time to time. was it possible that rin really had been waiting for someone? or had he just been pissed off?
"you can tell yumi that i don't plan on giving anyone anything, especially her," rin spat with distaste, bringing you back to the present.
"the poor girl has done nothing wrong to you," you tried to defend her.
"doesn't mean i have to like her," rin retorted.
"i'll tell her, in gentler wording that is. you know this won't stop anyone from giving you chocolates next week anyway, right?" you wondered if he heard the slight grimace in your voice.
"on feburary fourteenth i will have suddenly been in a very tragic car crash and unable to attend school," rin declared. you could tell from the conviction in his voice that he might actually be plotting a way to skip that day.
"righttt, whatever you say."
unfortunately for rin, he suffered no such vehicular accident and was, rather angrily, perfectly healthy and in attendance at school that valentine's day. it was time for math class, again, and rin had already recieved eighty two chocolates. he thought he might break his own record that year given the school day had barely begun. what he was not prepared for was the sight of you, standing in front of your desk as a boy, whom rin could not remember the name of (he's sure it was some npc anyway) thrusted a pink heart shaped box towards your body. no, there could be no mistaking it, that boy had just confessed to you.
something akin to envy took over rin's body and before he was even aware of it himself, he was standing next to you, glowering at the boy. rin had been mad plenty of times, but he was practically ready to spit fire right then.
the boy hurriedly scurried away, like a mouse, and rin stared daggers at his back.
"hey rin!" you greeted him, as if nothing was wrong.
"who. was. that." not a question but a demand came from the boy with the blunt bangs in front of you.
"rin, it's fine. that's just tokimitsu, and i swear he's harmless," you answered quickly, doing a poor job of concealing the excitement bubbling up inside of you that rin cared. “he was probably just being nice anyway."
"sure didn't look like it, he was blushing like he walked into a makeup store and fell in that damn pink powder," rin griped.
"why's that bothering you anyhow?"
"i- uh," rin didn't know how to answer that. he didn't even know that he could get jealous over you until then. and how would he tell his best friend that? after all, friends weren't supposed to feel that way for each other. it was wrong for him to be this possessive over you. rin assumed that it was just because he had known you for so long, and that he didn't trust this half-baked tokimitsu guy. he's lying to himself.
"he just pisses me off, i guess," was the answer that rin gave you.
"so what'cha got there?" you motioned at his bag, obviously stuffed full of confessions and candy. "sharing is caring..." rin wondered if you were frowning as he unzipped the backpack and told you to take anything you wanted, hiding under an excuse that the chocolate would ruin his diet as an athelte.
when the final bell tolled for the end of school, rin was waiting outside your class.
"rin? don't you have practice?" you were surprised at his sudden appearance.
"nope, cancelled." rin lied through his teeth. he then dragged you away, setting a brisk walking pace that was opposite from the direction of his and your houses. you shrugged and followed. you didn't have anything planned so you assumed it would be fine.
you were about a block away when you realized where rin was headed towards: your favorite cafe. oddly, he didn't even enjoy their pastries, he had told you they were too sweet for his liking multiple times.
rin led you past the door, weaving through a small crowd of poeple, and stopped abruptly at a table for two. he nodded at the light pink menu that sat atop the marbled top.
"you order," he announced. rin still couldn't take his mind off that infuriating moment in math, and had he been compelled, almost possesed, by a strong urge to take you to the cafe you frequented on that valentine's day. i'll one up you tokimitsu, he thought.
you were still scanning the menu when the waitress approached you, notepad in hand.
"if you're having trouble deciding, we're doing a special promotion for couples today on the strawberry snow parfait for two!" she suggested, looking at you both.
couple? you guessed that you could see where she was coming from. you and rin might have looked like a couple, but before you could clear up the misunderstanding, rin interjected. he knew that strawberries were your favorite fruit, given how often you brought them to school.
"sounds perfect, thanks," he said, and the waiter was off with a nod of her head, scribbling something down. hold on a minute. rin had agreed that you two were a couple to her? you wondered if he was that desperate to get the promotion.
"rin," you hissed. "we're not technically a coup-"
"shhhh!" he shushed you. and as if compelled by an yet another mysterious force, rin took your hands in his. "they don't know that, and you like strawberries, right?" he finished with a wink.
maybe you had died and been brought back to life by that wink, because with the way your heart threatened to explode back then, you definitely shouldn't have lived through it. knowing that he remembered your love of strawberries made you somewhat giddy.
you didn't trust yourself to say anything back yet, only nodding in silent agreement. it was also that day when you realized that you might really, really have feelings for the boy sitting across from you with the compelling cerulean eyes.
plus one more.
you since graduated junior high and somehow beat the paper thin odds, winding up in the same high school as itoshi rin. and you never stopped thinking back to that february fourteenth, even after months had past and it was now novemember of your first year as a high schooler. rin only became better and better at soccer, so naturally you, his best friend, were present at every home game he had. but rin had changed that summer before the start of first year, on an oddly cold night where sae had returned to japan earlier than expected. rin refused to mention much about it to you, but you knew. it had scarred and changed him, his attitude was at its worst and he played with a newfound rage, something that demanded people to notice him. really look at who was going to surpass itoshi sae, his tepid excuse for a big brother.
it was only a few short months after the start of high school and rin's debut as the star striker of the soccer team. rin had been seen and scouted by countless numbers of japanese clubs at this point, just like he'd hoped, and you had encouraged him to go wherever he thought would be best. even if it meant going far from home, and far from you. but for rin, no offer was good enough to surpass sae's yet. so he stayed in place, until he had called you abruptly today at seven in the night. the call had been brief and rin failed to mention anything of importance except telling you to meet him at the park immediately.
he never specified which park, but you knew for him that there could only be one.
when you arrive at the now faded playstructure that you first met itoshi rin at, you're hit by a wave of nostalgia. the sky is exactly as cloudless as it was in your memories, and the crescent moon smiles down at you. were you two really sixteen already? had it been twelve years since you befriended the slightly teary eyed boy with the broken dinosaur figurine?
"hey, y/n." rin's voice is oddly lower, and his tone is serious.
"rin," you smile at him. "did something happen? why'd you wanna meet here all of a sudden?"
"this is it," he whispered, showing you an enveloped containing a letter that read with "the JFU invites you to an elite training camp for the national team…" in glittering gold letters. "my chance to become the world's number one striker, to finally being recognized by sae again..." he trails off, the hurt in his voice all too obvious and too painful for you to hear. "it'll be far, and i probably won't be able to come to school for a while. won't be able to see you for a while."
"rin, you have to go," you steal glance at the boy who had been by your side for all of these years. you wish you could tell him that you'd be okay without him, but there was no point in lying. that's why he had called you all the way over here.
"just- just promise me one thing y/n," rin says, practically commanding you to look at him again. you're enthralled by the deep blues of his irises, and you think that you might never be able to look away.
rin doesn't ever want to look away either. he's at a crossroads right now, he's more aware of that than ever. rin doesn't think he can go down the right path in peace unless he tells you this one thing, what he's been wanting to say from the very instant you made his life worth living.
"please, don't leave me behind," he begs, his voice hushed but urgent. "i can't lose someone else i care about." shit, he has to tell you the truth now. "the boy you met at the park that day, the one that you wanted to play with, he's been in love with you ever since." its a quiet admission of what was so obvious to everyone else, but so incomprehensible to you two.
rin thinks that he’s ruined it all, this was the end of the line for you and he’d just have to live with that rejection.
on the other hand. you're stunned into silence, entranced by the boy who had drawn your attention since you were four, and you know that your words will fail you again. in the pale moonlight, he looks perfect, sculpted by michelangelo himself. so, you do the only thing that you know can express what you feel for rin. you screw your eyes shut and press your lips onto his, gripping the edge of his soft gray hoodie.
a gush of relief floods rin and reacts a second later. you swear you see fireworks erupting. the kiss nothing less than movie worthy, he's the male lead, you're the main love interest, and the world fades to nothing around you two as you're consumed by rin's love.
when you suddenly realize you're not breathing and neither is he, you push away in a rush. rin's cheeks are hopelessly red, and you assume your own aren't much better off.
"wait, let's do that again, please," rin gasps, breathing heavily while tugging you towards his chest. his black bangs cover his eyes just a bit, and you reach to swipe them out of his face.
rin thinks that he is going to melt, more helpless than a popsicle left out in the sweltering suimmer sunlight. he cradles your face gently, kissing you once again.
the two of you stay like that for a while, and you're not sure how late it is when he pulls away for the final time, but all the stars are out in the sky now, glinting and sparkling.
you hope that there were no children left playing around at this hour.
"so, you'll send me off tomorrow morning?" rin asks. it's unfathomable to him how you can make him feel so complete, so full. you're definitely the one for him.
"that's a promise."
"and you love me?" he asks again.
"even after the end of the world, i will," you assure rin, tracing the grooves on the palm of his hand.
zero multiplied by one should always equal zero. at least, that's what the fundamentals of mathematics declare. but with you as the one, rin thinks that zero times one might equal something else: love.
Tumblr media
a/n: if u made it here MWAHH big kiss. probably the longest thing i've written in a while and not planned out at ALL, sorry for the crappy world building and stuff, i tried... also tried to keep it more in line with canon. i’ve never written with japanese honorifics hopefully i didn’t mess up too badly 🙁 side note i think rin would actually enjoy 0x1=lovesong vibes
masterlist!
140 notes · View notes
rederiswrites · 2 days ago
Text
Just saw a (perfectly good otherwise, which is why I'm making my own post, because I have no desire to beef) post that talked about how good Veilguard is and hinged part of its argument on the idea that bringing down the Veil would kill everyone and would definitely be a bad thing. But that theme worked specifically because they forced the narrative that bringing down the Veil was a bad thing, and purged all evidence to the contrary from the game's lore!
Look, I think Veilguard IS a great game! I love it! But, like every other DA game before it, it leapfrogs right over some established lore to tell a different story, and the story it ultimately told was not about quite the same Solas many of us loved in Inquisition and Trespasser, and the difference is significant.
There was quite a LOT of reason to believe that the Veil is an unsustainable artificial structure that, by its existence, does literally incalculable harm. And no one, probably Solas included, knows what the final consequences of bringing it down would be.
The Veil was a mistake in the first place. It changed Thedas so completely that even the ancient lore of all currently existing cultures does not talk about what it was like before. It's unimaginable. We see only tiny glimpes of a world where gravity might as well not exist and form is mutable and elves don't age and if you got bored you could go on a whole-ass vacation from your body, for centuries if you wanted. Where magic was inextricable from physical existence. Where you could spend centuries playing a piece of music. And not only was it a mistake, but it didn't quite do what it was designed to do! The Blight got out anyway! Slower, and less, but it still got out.
So what Trespasser set up was a choice--continue the deep harms of the current world, a world that is in a near-constant state of apocalypse, or incur the terrible harms of bringing down the Veil for what might be a better world after. But what Veilguard gave us was a man who was used by someone he loved, betrayed by people he trusted, and never in all his wisdom managed to move past that. And your choice is to either trick him or help him move past that. It was actually a compelling story! I can buy it. The story of a spirit, deeply damaged by the things he felt trapped into doing. But it WAS a forced narrative, and they had to brush a bunch of really pivotal lore under the rug to make it work. "What is a Circle" levels of don't mind the man behind the curtain.
I defend the right of creatives to alter their story and tell it the way they want to. I also recognize the difficulties they face dealing with technical and business realities. But let's not pretend that people who were disappointed with Veilguard just don't get it or didn't understand the lore correctly. We can enjoy the game and also not invalidate that disappointment.
91 notes · View notes
a-tired-human-draws-junk · 2 days ago
Text
LU Four headcanons + Minish cap thoughts
EDIT: HELP I DIDNT MEAN TO POST THIS YET💀 fuck it we ball
So I've been playing minish cap and I'm having a great time it's so fucking whimsical and lovely everybody ever should play it right now but it made me realise how little?? Minish cap stuff gets mentioned in linked universe??? like where is my funny little figurine collection I spent thousands of shells on, where is my cute minish lore, where is my cane of pacci, where are my KINSTONES!!!
Anyways this is basically me nerding out over Minish cap and sharing my new silly little thoughts on Four (and spreading my new knowledge to the fic writers please there is so much untapped potential here you dont understand😭)
I've never done this before so bare w me
Starting w KINSTONES
So much of this is kinstones why does nobody talk about them I've read hundreds of LU fics and did not even know they existed till I played minish cap
I think Four has just SO. MANY. KINSTONES.
He just has a bag of random kinstone pieces on him at all times
Imagine the chain all sitting around the fire one day and fours like "anybody wanna match kinstones?" And the others stare at him like... "bro what is even that 😭"
Another funny idea, he just goes through his bag and starts trying to match the pieces he has, one actually works and a chest just appears next to the chain and four is like "aw hell yeah that's some good luck"
Everybody else "four how did you just SUMMON TREASURE"
"Got lucky :]"
Imagine hes not even really known as a hero in his home town but as the kinstone guy™
They go to Fours hyrule and little kids will just come up to him like ",,kinstone,,?" And he will just whip out the biggest bag of kinstone pieces and grab the exact one needed to match
It's like a magic trick
Desperately need some good luck? Talk to the kinstone guy hes gotchu
Imagine the colors all get their own bags
He just has four bags of kinstones at all times (maybe five if they have a community pile)
(There are more at home)
Also animals? Can have kinstones?? I feel there is comedy potential in that
Four has a collection of silly little figurines he paid thousands of mysterious shells for and I need somebody to talk about it
He has over A HUNDRED SILLY LITTLE FIGURINES
I dont know what to do with this knowledge but it is important to me that people know that
Cane of pacci.
CANE OF PACCI
Please its concept is so fucking funny people need to use it more.
(I've seen it a few times but NOT ENOUGH!!)
Imagine dink shows up and gives an evil monologue and everyone is having an intense stare down and four just discreetly grabs his cane and zaps dink w it and he just fucking flips upside down smacks his head on the ground and passes out
LIKE PLEASE ITS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT
Theres a hole in the ground and he just zaps it and jumps in and rolls around and fucking flings himself into the air
I've seen so many fics where Four can just shrink down at will and that's fine I like em but in game you have to use minish portals and it's a whole thing
And I've seen people utilizing portals which I love
But I need more funny moments so
In game they are so very inconvenient and some are so fucking funny to me
Four just walks into a house flips this beautiful, giant vase, upside down jumps on top and becomes smol
Like??😭 going into people houses and breaking their pots is a link tradition but just... flipping one upside down is for some reason incredibly hilarious to me
Or running head first into a tree using pegasus boots to reveal a portal
Somebody do something w these portals they are so incredibly good
Also piccori are SMALL
They are TINY
When I imagined the minish I was picturing a lil guy the size of my thumb maybe a little smaller
NO
THESE BITCHES THINK ACORNS ARE BIG!!
THEY ARE SO INCREDIBLY TINY!
MINISCULE!
I dont know what to do with that I just desperately needed to share
Imagine the picori lore potential yall
I've seen a few good ones but I NEED MORE LITTLE GUYS
Fours hyrule has a whole lotta beliefs and traditions about the minish me thinks
I mean they already have a festival about them
So imagine-
They find chips on the walls of their homes that are neatly shaped and nicely trimmed and they leave them, they take it as good luck, the picori are staying here
You see many of such spots in someone's home and you take them as kind, the picori stay with them
I think they abide by leaving picori paths
Random small planks connecting homes and making paths too small to walk are left where they are
If a plank starts decaying they leave a similar sized one nearby and the next day find the old one replaced and a kinstone lying nearby
If your flower pots neatly lined in a row suddenly have a small gap between two, keep it, the picori are passing by here
I think they make spaces in their homes for them
I think Four would go out of his way to leave space for the picori in his
Maybe he makes little houses he keeps in his yard or on a shelf or on the rafters or all of the above
Maybe he leaves out food in odd places and when it disappears he finds treasures somewhere nearby
He basically has a whole neighborhood of minish living in and around his house
I think Four has actually learned minish
Like yes he used the jabbernut to understand them initially but I think he went out of his way to properly learn it
And there are canonically different dialects, lil tidbit courtesy of Ezlo, so maybe hes learned multiple versions of minish
Imagine the funny moments where he just fucking starts saying smth in minish like "pico pipi pori co" and the chain stare at him and he just stares back like 'what?' "WHAT DOES PICOROCOPOIPO MEAN,??"
Hes just spent too much time as a tiny guy
70 notes · View notes
fluffydeoxys · 3 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Been thinking more about Zero's story, and what I'm trying to say with it. This art was part of that process. Lore 'n thought process etc under the cut
So at her core, Zero isn't actually 'real', she was quite literally a creation of the Maker. He wove her from dreams, the entropy of Nowhere, and a bit fabric scrap from his cloak.
She's a fairytale, the hero of a story. In a way, she parallels some aspects of Zorro. She's fictional, but given a heart to beat, lungs to breathe, legs to walk. In her eyes, there is no humanity in her. She is merely a vessel to enact "saving Nevada."
She accepted that a long time ago, and so felt no desire to get herself 'out' of the loop. There was no reason to live outside of this. She is the idea of saving. So eventually the loop stopped becoming a defined series of events, and just became an idea that fused itself with Zero. She became one with Nevada.
She becomes a faceless angel that wanders in and out of the wasteland and the Other Place. A seraph, a guardian angel. Many wings folding in and out of herself to shelter and push those who need it. Like the text says, she appears to rescue Grunts when it is not yet their time.
Her hat becomes the infinite loop that flows in and out of "herself." She's either depicted with this (with stars and other debris spiralling it), or just her face completely blacked out.
Nevada itself forgets her face. The only person who remembers her is 2BDamned, who tried and failed to get her out. He has a piece of her though, perhaps literal or figurative. I'm not sure how to depict it - maybe as a scar, or as the light in his goggles. She is the phantom hands on his coat. The murmurings in the dark. In his eyes, he failed her.
I think it's a pretty sad fate, but one that felt more... fitting? It's kind of a poor man's Madohomu, especially because Zero just kind of... accepts it. No one needs to save her.
I don't want to leave it at that, but I felt it was almost too idealistic for her to just... get out? I liked what I wrote about her desire to live, and I love the dynamic she has with each member of SQ, but it doesn't feel strong enough. I'unno. Banging my little hammer at the OC forge
60 notes · View notes
quiescentem-puella · 1 day ago
Text
Till's expressing himself through clothing – a rant
today's sad alnst thought of the day is that no matter how you view round 6, I think it's undeniable that ivan was able to give back to till a piece of himself that he lost after witnessing round 5
and i'm talking about this
Tumblr media
I think Till outfits are important when it comes to discerning his mental state/attitude, both because of plot-related reasons (imo Till has a degree of power over deciding or at least selecting his clothes) and also character design (in a media like alnst, where most things are said by showing them, it's clear that vivimeng put lots of thought behind the visuals). We know nothing about the behind-the-scenes between r6 and r7, so we can just LOOK at Till to see if something changed
I said that Till has some power over his outfit choices because he's the only one who personalizes them, or so it looks like. It's very much in Till's rebellious nature to vandalize his outfits and I think both the r2 outfit (the spray-painted t-shirt, the patch hiding his branding, the lack of shoes) and the scene we see in the top 3 video (with graffiti all over the room and paint all over him) are proof of that. He's always shown drawing and doodling, so i think it's a fair assumption that when we see that on his clothing, it's his handiwork.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
And that... disappears in round 6. Whether we look at his outfit in the actual round or when he's entertaining segyeins, he's dressed in muted, dark clothing. Very put together for his previous standards, almost elegant with his delicate, silver accessories (thin chains and tasteful earrings)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Gone is the asymmetry and the rage. Till is mourning and so he dresses for a funeral... either for Mizi (who's gone and presumed(?) dead) or for himself (without Mizi, he has no reason to keep going. he entered alien stage and stayed in anakt for her). Whether he 1) chose his outfits before and let the aliens take over in his grief or 2) fought the aliens on previous outfits to personalize them and stopped after r5, i think in both cases his clothes show how much he has given up
and then we have round 7
Tumblr media
First of all, the color is back. Acid green and white pants. The tech gear too, in place of delicate chains. The hair is slicked back, similar to the scene out of stage in r6, but it doesn't feel as tamed
Tumblr media Tumblr media
and i apologize in advance for the frame i'm about to use to prove this point (only scene we see till full figure in r7) but
Tumblr media
THE SPRAY PAINTING CAME BACK!! on the pants!! Personally I think both the red and the two stripes are Till's addition, you could argue that the blood isn't bc it's just the pants done like this but it looks handmade to me, splotchy. Very likely to be Till's hand.
Tumblr media
So going back to my initial point: something has changed between r6 and r7. In r7, Till FIGHTS with everything he has. He doesn't let Luka speak over him, he tries his best. He falters, but he enters the stage with a spark, a determination that was notably absent in r6
I think it's significant that we get this in Mizi's pov
Tumblr media
because Mizi RECOGNIZES Till. Not in the sense that she didn't know it was him, but in the sense that it's the Till she knew from anakt: wild, rebellious, hateful towards the system. He's raging and screaming, putting on a wild performance.
And Ivan's sacrifice is what gets him like this. It allowed him to live, of course, but if we read deeper there's also something else. In r6, it's the first time we see Ivan openly defying the segyeins. It's pretty obvious that he didn't have the love Mizi had for them and he disobeyed multiple times (running away with Till is the prime example), but he put on a façade all the time. I would say it's exactly what allows him to get away with so much: he's so well-behaved that no one suspects him. He has no leash because, in the segyeins' eyes, he never tried to escape (and he never will, bc just like Till will choose to go back to Mizi every time, Ivan will stay for Till as well).
The only times we see him rebelling is: 1) the scene on the rooftop when he was still in the slums; 2) in r6, when he defies all expectations and "cheats" so that Till wins
Ivan fell in love with Till after seeing how defiant he was. And Till regains his spark, his will to rebel, after Ivan's sacrifice, when he chooses to publicly go against the aliens for the first time since he was a child.
i've seen a lot of talk about how Ivan was Till's downfall: because Till cared much more than Ivan thought, because Luka used that moment with Ivan (and not Mizi) to bring him down. It's all true and very tragic, but I think it's really important to note something else too
Till was able to be himself again (even if just for the span of a single song) because of what Ivan did. Ivan's act of love wasn't wasted.
56 notes · View notes
pastorfutureletthembe · 2 days ago
Text
Unpopular opinion probably, but everyone is set on vidding and animating this song in Lu Guang's POV.
And it's very popular:
X X X X X
But to me, Penelope's part would be Cheng Xiaoshi's pov, actually.
I mean, I get why the lyrics echo Lu Guang's feelings. Oh, I do. But also, Odysseus is the one who went through decades of longing and pain and loneliness and betrayal, with only reason to keep living the hope to see his (dead) wife once more. He left worlds and pieces of himself behind.
He isn't the same man. Cheng Xiaoshi... Is. He'll always be who he is because Lu Guang is the only one with a future, but the only future he accepts is his past life with his best friend.
He would go through billions of repeats if there is one chance of growing old with the man he loves.
Tumblr media
Odysseus' theme is "Just A Man". And it is and will forever be my favorite song of all Epic the Musical.
Going through the Yingdu Chapter through Lu Guang's prism feels familiar and foreign. We know who Lu Guang is but not who he was. We have no idea what he went through.
An other unpopular trope in this fandom is that all these repeats somehow made Lu Guang lose his humanity, his compassion and his morals. He would become more and more selfish, blinded with his wish, making difficult choices and leaving people behind. Qiao Ling. With a godlike power, he would still be profoundly human. Doing whatever it takes to save Cheng Xiaoshi. Going back to the start to live in peace with Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi, unable to move on.
Why doesn't he say anything to Cheng Xiaoshi? Why does it try so hard to follow the script? Who is he protecting in the end? I would actually love to see Lu Guang do something unforgivable in order to save Cheng Xiaoshi.
Tumblr media
In another meta, I mentioned Cheng Xiaoshi would be kind of pissed at Lu Guang for his hypocrisy. But no matter how pissed he would be, he would move mountains to help him come back from the dive back in time. Cheng Xiaoshi would never allow Lu Guang to sacrifice himself or his own happiness for him. He wouldn't let him erase himself from reality, from their story.
I do think Future Cheng Xiaoshi is diving in Yingdu, at the very beginning, because he won't let Lu Guang go. He keeps holding his hand. Again and again and again and he pulls him in right before Lu Guang gives up and gets sucked into self-sacrifice.
And I cannot wait for the reveal.
People asked me before what I thought would be Cheng Xiaoshi's reaction to learning the truth. I still don't know how to answer that, to be honest. Actually, I don't think it is relevant. I don't think Lu Guang would admit what happened, what is happening. Cheng Xiaoshi would realize what kind of horrors his best friend went through only when there would be no going back...
And after that?
He would get him back.
This part is exactly what I imagine the end of Link Click to be:
Tumblr media
And whatever was said and done, who cares if billions of versions of their stories have been written? The core of them is the same.
Tumblr media
Also. Penelope's game of asking her husband to move an unmovable bed just to prove a point is soooo Cheng Xiaoshi.
Anyway.
I hope someone will make an edit with the reverse possibility.
56 notes · View notes
freyito · 2 days ago
Note
I need more Gallagher, I think I’ve read everything x reader about him
So here are some ideas, you can also do other characters with this of course
Gallagher x reader he’s had a long day and accidentally snaps at you. hurt/comfort
Gallagher x reader you accidentally fall asleep at the bar while he’s closing up. Fluff
Gallagher x reader the once married got divorced years past you meet again and realize your still in love trope…
Gallagher x reader close proximity. Smut/fluff
Gallagher x reader he’s the first person to buy you flowers. Fluff/comfort
Gallagher x reader after an argument you go missing… perhaps on your own terms out of anger or your actually kidnapped, either way soft fluffy ending
Gallagher x reader comforting after a nightmare, could go either way or could be both
That is all, 👋👋👋👋
✭ pairing(s): gallagher x gn reader
Tumblr media
✧ a/n: URGH ANON YOU GAVE ME. SO MUCH INGREDIENTS. I HOPE YOU KNOW IM THANKFUL. while i love EVERYTHING YOU'VE GIVEN ME :3... i've chosen the first three ehe :3... this one will be based off the third one YAAAY. ALSO HAPPYYYYY NEW YEAR!!! kinda happy this one will be my first post! i had a lot of fun with it if we couldnt tell ^^
✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora
🗒 cw: gn reader, previous relationship, so much yearning (but like. not enough.), fear of commitment, mention of weight loss, depression, SIOBAHN THE GOAT, little bit of lore-building (he has a dog.), not proofread
✎ wc: 8k
ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴅɢᴇ
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
He was never like this. He had never lingered on his past for too long, an irrational fear of having it chain him down. After all, today’s Gallagher could be different from yesterday’s. No matter how well crafted the lie was, there were always some sort of leaks through the cracks, like just how much he loved you.
He was never made to be loved and love. He was simply a lie, and he knew that. He perpetuated this lie to you for all those years, simply because he was too greedy to admit his own nature (or perhaps, creation). Because, like the selfish creature he truly is, he did not want to let go of you. Most people seek out love, and he was no different, meme or not. He was created with the heart of a human, so who would fault him for making such an error? He lived and loved like any human would, no?
He wanted to be stubborn, by god, he wanted to be stubborn. And he truly was, right up unto the end. He held onto you like a man starved, only a step away from getting on his knees and begging you. But in the end, his love won out. You wanted the divorce, and he didn’t want to hurt you more than he apparently was, so he went through with it.
It hurt. It truly did, it hurt so much he still feels the sting after years. He tried to rationalize it every day he could, tell himself that you would’ve found out eventually, and he would’ve ceased to exist. But that made it even worse, it made him curl up on himself on those lonely nights in the room that was supposed to be yours, it made his throat tighten and his hands shake and he felt like such a goddamn fool. Someone like him shouldn’t be crying. There was no room in his facade to cry. So why did you make him feel this way? By now it had been several years. He should be over it. But he isn’t. And he resents himself for that.
You had moved on by now. A nice quiet life away from the heart of Penacony, a promotion, and an absolutely positive attitude once you weren’t weighed down by the ring. It’s not like you disliked Gallagher. There were never any fights, no contempt for one another, no reason to think he didn’t love you. But you were scared of the commitment. It only took you two years to realize. How did you stay with your job so long, but not Gallagher? You didn’t know. And it only served to make you feel even worse about the divorce.
You always find yourself thinking of him now and then, his face never truly leaves your mind. You couldn’t keep a partner for long at all, always searching for some little piece of him in them. While you didn’t want to, your subconscious was just as stubborn as the man himself. The two of you didn’t text anymore, and you assumed he had your number blocked. So, you yourself had assumed he moved on, and in the silliest, saddest part of your mind, you chose to accept that. Perhaps he got a new partner, maybe he’s even married again by now. He deserves it, you think. He was one of, if not the kindest souls you had the pleasure of meeting, let alone sharing a few years of your life with. So, you hoped he was happy.
Which couldn’t be farther from the truth. His days had become so monotonous that they started to blur together. Wake up bright and early, get some breakfast (which consist of the most mediocre meals, cereal and/or poptarts. Milk if he’s lucky enough), rush to work, patrol, break, patrol, home, and back to sleep he goes. He barely takes much care of himself anymore, his stubble much more of a mess than when you left him, hair still untamed. He’s done his best to watch himself and keep up, but in the end, the most he can do after work is drag himself to bed.
He’s missed your face oh so terribly, missed your laughter and humming and simply your voice. What a treat it would be to come home to that once more, sweep you up off your feet after you’ve had such a long day and pamper you in bed. He’d go on and on about how you need to eat properly, get enough sleep, and take care of yourself. Even if he’s had a stressful day, even when it is so very apparent by the way he dragged his feet when he came through the door, the way his voice was low and groggy and he could only get a few words out like he didn’t want to speak, the way his eyebags had gotten deeper, he still had his priority; to care for you. Now, he’s met with no one to care for, refusing to acknowledge himself without you.
Days off for him are a rare occurrence, and when he does get one, he chooses to sleep most of the day. He’d do it every day, if he could. He’ll get up and allow himself a shower, perhaps order some food if he really feels like it. But going out now, even to just treat himself, it’s impossible. Gallagher doesn’t want to bear facing the world without you. Even if it has been three years.
It’s obsession, he tells himself, though it is not. He loved like a dog, and had convinced himself since the moment you two started dating that there would never be a rift or a tear between you two. Years later he still grapples with the truth. He understands that perhaps there will never be a second chance, given how long it has been, especially without so much as a text from you. But, he wants one. So badly. He’d do anything, as he’s repeated to himself so many times, to have you back. To love you once more, to truly love you. And he hates himself for it.
Lately, his schedule has changed. He gave his supervisors full control over his schedule, choosing to open up his availability when you left. Only now had they taken full advantage of that, with the vacancies the Bloodhounds had after the Charmony festival. Despite being Head of the Bloodhounds, a different team handled the schedules, and completely disregarded the years of his life he gave to the Bloodhounds and flip-flopped his schedule around. He was pulling more doubles than ever, night shifts that turned into day shifts, his days off dwindled to one, and ultimately his health was thrown into limbo. Due to the changes, he was unable to sleep properly, at most, he got three hours.
Because of this, he didn’t have time to go to the Dreamjolt Holstery, choosing to put his job over his hobby. Which ultimately made him feel worse. While he tried to protest the changes to his schedule and the fact that it’s been stressful on him, his superiors ignore this, continuing on with the rough and unpredictable schedule. It takes a while for him to break, as strong as he is, he can only take so much.
Time blurs together for Gallagher, what felt like years could be just months, weeks, or days. Everything felt the same to him, even with his skewed schedule. Somehow, in between his shifts, he finds himself at the Holstery, hazy and tired out of his mind. Thankfully, there weren’t many patrons tonight, a few vagrants like himself spread out within the corners. Siobhan was surprised to see him, schooling her expression into neutrality when she saw his state.
Disheveled, tired, near half-dead. He greeted her with an unintelligible mumble, slumping down into a chair. He passes out right then and there, ultimately succumbing to the stress that had fallen on him over the years. Siobahn stares for a moment, unsure of what to do. When Gallagher had stopped showing up at the Holstery without a word, she was worried. The hound always found his way back, but he had been gone for months. And now here he was, in arguably worse shape then he had been for several years.
Coincidentally, you had a week off because of the Charmony Festival (and the subsequent tragedy that happened after), and you found yourself quite bored. It had been quite a while since you drank, seeing as you really only trusted one bar. You chose to leave it be after the divorce, not wanting to disturb Gallagher at all. But you can’t help but miss it. Surely it’s been a long enough time by now, so why not go pay the bar a visit? Surely Gallagher has moved up.
After a couple moments of debating, pacing around your apartment and thinking out a very overcomplicated plan of action if he were to be there. You’d leave immediately of course, avoid any of the awkward conversation, or perhaps any spite he had towards you. What if he came in while you were mid-drink? Then it feels like it’d be unavoidable… Still, you muster up your courage and walk out of your apartment. There shouldn’t be any hard feelings, anyways, right? It had been quite some time, and you two must have moved on by now. Surely you two would be okay if you were to meet again…
The cool(ish) night air calms your nerves, though. You can’t remember the last time you had a nice night stroll like this, even in the buzzing streets of Penacony. The city never truly slept, no matter what had transpired even seconds before. The dead of night could be just noon for people, or even morning. As such, most businesses kept running 24/7. It was always odd to you, even as a Penacony native, but you got used to it eventually. Bright flashing lights in your face at almost all times when you were out, endless ads about random things you’d never need for your daily life, and salesmen trying to corral you into their stores, to get you to buy luxuries even you can’t afford. Such was life, there was no tranquility in most Hours, anyways.
However, it all goes silent the minute you enter the elevator in the Reverie. The idle chatter from the lobby is shut away by the metal doors and a ‘clink’, as the elevator starts its ascent. You stand square in the middle, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for the elevator to reach the floor. You can’t help but grow nervous with each second, all those silly, impossible events happening in your head again. What if you did see him? What would you do? It’d be hard to act normal after all these years.
Before you can answer your question, the elevator doors slide open, and your legs carry you through the hallway without hesitance. It’s much more quiet here, a light, jazzy tune playing in the Holstery. There’s no chatter, barely any clatter of the shaker or glasses, if any, and you know you’ve found an opportune time to show up. It had been so long since you’ve even visited the Holstery, your irrational fear holding you back. The amount of dates you and Gallagher had together here, impromptu or planned, was innumerable. You always loved watching him work, and sometimes he allowed you to get behind the bar yourself, teach you how to make certain drinks. Those moments were always special, as were most in the relationship.
When you step into the bar proper, Siobahn looks at you, then smiles gently. She had been the first to know about the divorce, from both you and Gallagher. Given how she was the only coworker Gallagher had liked, and how close you two were when you started dating him, it was only fair she knew. Not that there were many people you two talked to much. But she was supportive of both sides, never taking one or the other.
In front of her, a drunkard with brown hair is passed out on the counter, head in his arms as he snores. You shrug and walk around him silently, a few more chairs down, before sitting down. Siobahn raises an eyebrow and looks between the two of you, before taking a step over so she is standing in front of you. She opens her mouth to say something, pauses, then shakes her head and smiles even wider. Her eyes dart once more to the drunkard, and you turn to look out of curiosity.
He was wearing a white dress shirt and a vest, sleeves rolled up. The scars on his arms were impressive–
Ah.
It clicks only then, the man is Gallagher. You feel your stomach flip-flop, but your expression remains neutral. You don’t know whether you should just walk out now, reach out and tap his shoulder, or just talk with Siobahn. You want to do all three. So badly. You want to leave and avoid this awkward situation before it happens, but at the same time you want to see his face again. You also would love to catch up with Siobahn, seeing as you haven’t seen her in quite a while. But your focus is drawn to Gallagher.
He looks a bit thinner than you remember, more ragged even though you can’t see his face, and suddenly your nerves turn into concern. He never drank alcohol, as far as you knew. He despised the stuff, and really only enjoyed mocktails and virgin drinks. So, why did he decide to drink himself to this point…? In the end, your curiosity wins out, and you lean over, before standing up and sitting closer to him, just one stool between you. He doesn’t smell of alcohol, which soothes your nerves a bit, so you reach out and tap on his shoulder.
He flinches harshly, jerking up with a sharp breath and a cough, before looking down at you. His eyebags are heavy, eyes having a hard time staying open. His stubble is more of a scruff, one that looks quite itchy.
“Oh,” His eyes light up just a smidge when he realizes it’s you, a big, dopey smile spreading across his lips. “It’s you.”
The words are spoken with no ire, like you expected. Instead, he looked like some lovesick puppy, all smiles and sighs as he stared at you. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your heart flutter. It’s been far too long since someone’s talked to you like that, let alone looked at you like that, and you are glad it is Gallagher himself.
He does his best to blink the sleep from his eyes, before reaching up and rubbing at them. He takes a deep breath, a sound you fondly remember, one he made in the morning when he didn’t want to go to work but had to. And you find yourself pining for him. You turn your head away quickly, gathering your thoughts and looking to Siobahn for help. What could she do? You don’t know, but you sincerely hoped she could come up with something.
“Ah, well, it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen you,” She smiles gently, clearly holding back the word ‘two’. She herself doesn’t know exactly who she’s addressing, seeing as Gallagher’s finally awake.
“Yes, I didn’t expect to see you… or Gallagher here tonight,” You do your best to smile through it, but you can feel Gallagher’s hazel eyes burning into the back of your head. You are at war with yourself, telling yourself you can’t be feeling this way for Gallagher, just because of one look. Yet at the same time, you’ve missed him so dearly, it’s hard not to fall. Even with how ragged he looks at the moment.
Behind you, Gallagher sighs, yet you don’t turn to look at him, too afraid that if you were to catch another glimpse, you’d do something that would be contrary to the divorce and what you had told him. Siobahn shoots a quick glance to him as if now asking him to help, but when you don’t turn around to look at him, his shoulders slump. While what you said held no venom, it didn’t hold the fondness he was hoping for, either.
With a grunt, he pushes the stool out and stands up, shaking his head. You finally turn around, but he doesn’t look back, his footsteps slow and sluggish as he finally exits the Holstery. You turn back to Siobahn and the two of you share a look, falling silent for another minute. Perhaps Gallagher didn’t want to see you at all, and his smile was more out of formality and politeness than anything. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt, but you did your best to shrug it off. There was no real reason to feel like he truly wanted you back, anyways. It’d be selfish to think so.
“I guess he’s clocking out, then…” You mumble, an attempt at a weak joke.
“He had to quit about a month ago, actually,” Siobahn shakes her head, wiping down a glass quickly, before setting it down and leaning on the bar. “That’s the first I’ve seen of him since he told me.”
“I see,” You nod, looking down on the counter. You assumed Siobahn wouldn’t let him sleep on the job, anyways, so it made some sense. But why? As far as you remembered, he quite loved this job. “May I ask why?”
“Well, he said it was because of the Bloodhounds changing his schedule,” She shrugs, “So I took his word for it. He didn’t tell me much, though. And we haven’t really talked much since then. What about you? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s been… a long while. Since I’ve even texted him,” Saying that makes you feel… horrible. You’ve barely talked to him, and yet he gives you one silly little smile and suddenly your heart is singing for him. “I didn’t expect to see him tonight. Well, I did, but I also didn’t.”
“Y’know, since that was the first time I’ve seen him in a bit… he also looked kinda rough. Real rough. But I mean the way he smiled at you…”
“I know. I know, I noticed it too. Both things. But I don’t think his smile means anything with the way he walked away,”
“He seemed more hurt than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile like that, aside from when you two were married. Not that I’m saying you should get back together, but, he seemed quite–”
“I knowww…” You groan, lowering your head. “I’m starting to regret my decision, not like I can change it now, but the way he looked all sad and like a goddamn puppy, ugh.”
Siobahn chuckles, raising an eyebrow. She allows you to wallow in the silence for a while, before nudging you. “Perhaps it’s time to make up? Only if you want to. But I mean, if you’re feeling this way after, what, two years? Then, maybe…”
There’s a teasing lilt towards the end of her words, and when you look up at her she tilts her head with a small smirk. You hate to admit that she’s right, but also a part of you truly wants to. You’ve missed the intimacy he provided, the way his heart would skip a beat whenever you cuddled up to his chest, even after a couple of years, the way he’d fidget with your fingers when you held hands, or simply the way he’d look at you, how reminiscent his gaze was earlier of you’re previous days of love. Ugh, the more you thought the more you made up your mind.
“Fiiine,” You huff, as if you truly didn’t want to. But the way you get up hastily says otherwise.
“Oh, you’re really gonna try? You’re going to show up at his door?”
“Yeah. I am. I think it’ll be more… I dunno. It just makes more sense.”
“I’m cheering you on,” She chuckles once more, “Text me about the results once you're done. I know it isn’t my place to know, but… well, I’m pretty curious.”
“I will, I will,” You sigh, giving her one last wave before you head out of the Holstery all too quickly. It’s not that you didn’t want to continue talking with Siobahn; you truly did. But if you stayed any longer, you’d convince yourself to leave Gallagher be. And maybe that would be a good thing, but you already made up your mind. You could be chasing after a ghost for all you cared, but you figured you had to try.
The walk to his apartment was full of doubts. The night felt colder than ever, and you did your best to tell yourself to keep going. Perhaps you should’ve stayed at the Holstery and at least taken a shot for confidence. Every single part of you, even your heart, told you to just leave it be and go back to your own apartment. You see him once after a couple years and you decide to make everything right, now? But your legs keep walking, and you can’t tell if you hate it, or love it.
Before you can reach a definitive conclusion on whether to just give it up or go through it, you’re at his door. Suddenly it’s a lot more intimidating than you hoped, almost comically eerie, and you haven’t even knocked yet. Sure, it could seem all sorts of wrong for you to show up at his door, for you to even remember where he lived. But there’s no use worrying about that now, you’re stuck here whether you like it or not, and the only way through is, well, through.
You raise your hand and knock, once, twice– and the door opens. Gallagher stands in front of you, barely registering that you even knocked, looking just about as miserable as he did when you saw him at the Holstery. He blinks, trying to wash away his fatigue, before your presence finally registers.
“Mh, sorry, I can’t listen to your sales pitch,” He mumbles, as you take a couple steps back and he closes the door behind him.
“Gallagher.” That’s all you have to say, and he practically flinches, eyes widening for a second.
“A-Ah, sorry, I didn’t– I have work,” He stumbles over his words for a moment like he had on your first date, then immediately schools his expression back into something more neutral, locking the door quickly, before trying to walk past.
Against your better judgement, you reach out and grab his wrist. He pauses and looks back at you, and you swear you see a twinkle in his eye. Though, aside from that, you can feel the worry fester in your gut. If he has work, it’s so very selfish of you to pull him back. But you do.
“I’m sorry, I just,” You don’t know what to say, but neither of you pull away. Your hand loosens around his wrist, and it takes every bit of self control to not reach down and grab his hand. He’s still so warm, as warm as you remembered, and even though he looks quite beat, he still looks like the man you loved.
The silence stretches on for an unbearable amount of time. Gallagher doesn’t pry his wrist from your hand, despite how late he was for work already. He can’t find the strength to do it. He’s longed for something like this moment for quite some time, and now that he has it, employment be damned. His supervisors couldn’t give a damn about him, so why should he have to feel bad for being late? Plus, he had wanted this. So goddamn badly. If he pulled away now, all those nights hugging pillows and ‘i’m sorry’s didn’t mean much anymore. Perhaps they’d mean he had moved on. And he should be okay with that. But he wasn’t.
“I missed you,” He finally manages to speak, turning his entire body towards you. Once more, he looks like some lost puppy, and by the Aeons do you want to reach out and pet him.
“I’m sorry.” Is all you can get out in your fluster. You missed him, yes, and seeing him was only such a painful reminder of that. But at the same time, seeing his state, and remembering the piss poor excuse you left him with, how could you not apologize? ‘I’m just not ready’, what a joke that was. You loved him, dammit, and you weren’t ready? He gave you everything, he was ready. He was more than ready. And somehow, after three years of him cuddling up to you every night, cooking for you, making special drinks, all those sweet nicknames and the way he softened up after an especially rough nights, it took you a year of being in a relationship and two years of being married for you to tell him you weren’t ready?
Not only that, but he had given you no pushback. He didn’t beg you to stay or try to talk some sense into you, he just nodded and let the process start. That was it. You don’t know what impression it gave you, whether he wanted you to be happy or if he didn’t care for it at all. But hearing his words now made you realize what a fool you had been.
“Don’t– Don’t apologize. It’s my fault,” Gallagher finally wrenches his wrist free from your hand, only to put his own on your shoulders. “I wasn’t enough, so I oughta apologize.”
“No, no! That’s not what it was,” You place your hands on his biceps instinctively, and– Aeons, they’re still big– squeeze. “It was me being stupid. That’s all.”
“You’re not stupid,”
“Well I was for the way I left you,”
“No, don’t talk about yourself like that,” He finally lets go, hands falling to his sides with a huff. “I wasn’t enough, I get it. There’s no reason to apologize to me–”
“There is! You were more than enough–” You find yourself getting angry at his words. You pause, taking a deep breath and calming yourself. “I just… This isn’t about that. Maybe it is. I don’t know. You look like– You don’t look well. And I’m worried.”
Another silence falls between you two, making your stomach flip-flop. You can’t push away the previous exchange, and no doubt you’ll need to return to it later, but at the same time you didn’t want to keep him.
All you can do is nod fervently, because you worried that if you opened your mouth, you wouldn’t shut up. You didn’t want to make him late for work, but at the same time you wanted to tell him to just stay home and talk now. There was no way he could get work done in that state, especially at his rank. Before you can speak your mind, he’s halfway down the hall. However, he stands up a little taller, rather than dragging his feet as he walks away, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride along with butterflies in your stomach.
.  *     ✦     .      ⁺   .
Eight hours feel like twelve hours while you wait. You decided you’d busy yourself with some chores at home to clear your head, but it ultimately made the day feel even longer. For the last couple of hours, all you could do was sit on your couch and fidget. It felt like you HAD to wait for this moment. If you started something now, you would be betraying a part of yourself.
All you had to wait for was a notification. Part of you wanted to just go over to his apartment and wait out the rest of the time. You felt an overwhelming need to apologize, your nerves eating at you all day. Seeing the shape he was in, the melancholy that lingered in the air no matter his sappy smile or his posture, you wanted to take it all away. You wanted to say it was some sort of savior complex, but to tell the truth, it was your feelings. Your silly, pathetic feelings. One little look and suddenly you were rethinking everything that had led to this point.
You could worry about it all day, but you could never reach a conclusion on whether you should give it up or push through to have this talk with him. All you could do was hope that something positive comes out from this. At worst, nothing would truly change in your life. You’d carry on as you have been, one step at a time. At best… perhaps you’d get a second shot. If you did, you promised yourself you wouldn’t let it go so easily. You wouldn’t let him go.
Just before you lose your mind, your phone vibrates. You’re way too quick to check the notification, like a lovestruck highschooler. It’s been quite some time since you’ve seen his name pop up on your phone, and just that causes butterflies to flutter in your stomach, despite your nerves.
“I’m on my way home now, if you’d like to meet up at my place”
It’s so oddly formal, coming from him. But you suppose you aren’t any better, your own texts coming off just as awkward, a simple ‘omw’ sent back. You didn’t mean to be so curt, but if you hadn’t been, you would’ve started to overthink your answer, even to just a simple text.
With a deep sigh, you get up off your couch and grab your keys and wallet, shoving them into your pockets. You take another moment at your door, trying to compose yourself. It feels quite right to see him again, to talk with him again, and you can’t stop the guilt from creeping into your veins. You are hoping for… more, again. After you left him for something so very selfish. You had stopped talking to him about three months or so after the divorce went through, rationalizing it as the fact that you and him needed to move on. You couldn’t just stay friends, and you didn’t want to impede on his own life. You made up all sorts of scenarios to keep your mind at ease, and for all you knew, you lied to yourself so that you wouldn’t look like a fool running back.
Yet, here you are. Yearning for more, more, more. You wanted to apologize– you did apologize. But you felt the need to do more. You didn’t know what was going on in his head, you barely understood why he looked like such a mess, and you, for the most part, wanted to somehow swoop in and save him. Like a hug and a kiss would fix all that was wrong. Maybe it would, but usually, that wasn’t how the world works.
Before you make your anxiety worse, you open the door and decide to push through. It’s all for clarity, at the very least. You aren’t doing this to possibly get back together with him, it’s to provide you, yourself, and Gallagher clarity. Clarity. All you can do is repeat that word to yourself as you lock your door and make your way down the hallway.
Each step makes you feel heavier, as you dread what’s to come. Every possible outcome starts to scare you, good and bad. You shouldn’t be that scared, with the way Gallagher acted around you, even if it was just a few minutes in total. But you can’t help it, the sudden wave of guilt twists at your gut and claws at your mind, and it takes all your strength to not turn on your heels and high tail it back to your apartment. You don’t know how many more times you will fight with yourself over this, but you can only hope this will be the last.
.  *     ✦     .      ⁺   .
Gallagher’s apartment isn’t necessarily as well-kept as it was when you two lived together. It isn’t exactly messy, you can tell he tried to clean it up in the few minutes he had from getting back from work and you coming over. But overall, there was a certain air of… melancholy. Bitter and thick, reflecting Gallagher’s state.
He himself seemed too nervous to sit down, choosing to stand by the couch and mess with his tie. He looked even more tired than before, voice rough with exhaustion. You had asked multiple times when you entered his apartment if he’d like you to come back after a later time, and he said it was fine each and every time.
“Would you like something to drink?” His voice comes out a tad weak, looking down at you with an oddly sheepish smile.
“I– No, I can get something myself… if that’s okay,” The last thing you’d want to do is make him work more.
“No, I’d really like to. Please? I promise I want to,” He gives you the look, soft eyes, sheepish smile, once again, like a lost puppy. “Please.”
You can’t help but sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. It’s the kind of look he used when he wanted you to stay a little longer in bed when you two woke up (despite the fact that you both had work most of the time), and you cannot find the strength to say ‘no’ a second time. You give him a pitiful nod, and off he goes to the kitchen.
While he busies himself with the drink, you look around the living room. Not much has changed, save for your own items that were missing. Dog fur clung to nearly everything, as was the norm. He had brought his Doberman into the relationship, the sweetest pup you’ve met (aside from maybe Gallagher himself), who had endless amounts of energy. He had named the dog ‘Whiskey’, which… didn’t fit the dog at all. But who were you to judge? You had a puppy and a boyfriend at the time, so you were happy. You did kind of miss the dog, seeing as your apartment didn’t allow pets of any kind.
You wanted to ask where the dog was, looking over the back of the couch and into the kitchen. Gallagher was completely zoned in, a couple of different bottles of drinks and syrups on the counter, a couple ice cubes in a rather fancy whiskey glass, all while he was mixing the drinks. It is a sight for sore eyes, the tranquility of it all. There had been quite a lot of nights where you had sat exactly where you are now, and watched him work. He always loved mixing drinks, on the clock or off the clock. And you were more than happy to try most of them. His concentration softens his features, and for a spell he looks younger, more energetic, and not as weak as he has been.
You catch yourself blushing, and quickly turn your head away, turning your focus down to your hands, fidgeting nervously. What were you going to ask? Right, ask about Whiskey. Instead, you keep your mouth shut and force your mind to keep quiet. You can’t help the influx of memories that wash over you, especially in this space. Being not only close to Gallagher, but your old home, there’s a warmth that burns in your heart, one that can be extinguished all too quickly.
Before you can fluster (or perhaps hurt) yourself more, he’s placing the whiskey glass in front of you. It’s a nice, vibrant red, no doubt something fruity. A mocktail he made you quite a lot, one that you were always worried he would get sick of making. But, apparently not.
“So, uhm,” He starts, taking a seat on the couch as well. He leaves one cushion between you two, unable to allow himself to get closer. “I’m sorry.”
“Huh?” You didn’t expect him to start with that of all things. What did he have to apologize for? “What do you mean?”
“I dunno. I feel I have to. I don’t think I was…” He trails off, a note of sorrow in his voice.
Two years, he reminds himself. Two years, and he still felt this way. He wallowed every night, begged whatever force was out there for it to be different. Once again, he knew it was dangerous. There was no love for something such as him in this world, and yet he held onto the thought of you every waking day. For all he knew, you could be his undoing. If you were to find out the “Gallagher” you knew was not the Gallagher he was… it scared him. Yet, it scared him even more to be without you. Is it truly so bad to look for a warm hand when the clock stops ticking? Would it be wrong for you to be his final memory?
“I don’t think I was enough.” He says in an infinitely weaker and mournful tone. He looks away from you, shrinking in on himself.
The words themselves stun you. Suddenly, your throat feels tight and tears prick at your eyes. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You stare for a moment, taking in the way he finally seems smaller. A man you’ve always known to be strong, who you swore you’ve never seen be emotional aside from the day of your wedding, curled up in on himself, vulnerable. Somehow, hearing them now, it hurts even more than it did earlier. And you realize you have to prove him wrong, to tell him it was you, not him, wasn’t enough.
In a moment of selfish action, you scoot over next to him and reach for his hand. It is warm, and it trembles. But he doesn’t swat your hand away, nor does he look at you. After a beat, you grab his other hand, squeezing both.
“Oh, Gallagher…” You mutter, looking into his eyes even though they avoid yours. “That’s not it. You were more than enough, I promise you. You really were.” You squeeze his hands once more, to prove your point. “Somehow, I got it in my head that.. that I wasn’t ready. Even after all the time we spent together. And that’s on me– It really is.”
Finally, he looks up at you, his eyes glossy, mirroring your own. He squeezes your hands back, and relaxes just a little.
“I didn’t mean to rush you…” He responds, voice slightly shaky. He forces a small smile onto his lips however, and it makes your heart stutter.
“No, no, it wasn’t that. I was ready. I swear. I just– I should’ve talked to you, instead of doing what I did,” You huff, shaking your head. “It was unfair of me to come to that conclusion just because of some anxiety.”
“Well, I don’t think you should blame yourself like that,” Even his voice softens as he straightens up, turning his entire body towards you. “I really do wish you would’ve talked to me, but… if you were anxious… I mean, I get it. But don’t talk about it like that.”
You open your mouth to say something, but words fail you. All you can do is nod and meet his gaze, unable to tear yours away from those hazel eyes.
“... I mean, it was pretty expensive for something as simple as that, but– Sorry, bad joke,” He chuckles sheepishly, “But it’s okay. If anything, I’m glad we’re talking about it now, instead of never…”
His eyes rake over your face, down to your hands. He takes another breath like he’s about to say something, then pauses, shakes his head, and chuckles once more.
“I’m sorry,” Is all you can choke out, your hold on his hands loosening.
“It’s okay, there’s no need to apologize. I get it, I really do,”
Gallagher lets go of your hands as well, turning his hands over and presenting his palms to you. It’s a gesture that is so small and from the outside would seem meaningless, but something you always quite loved– as were most things you have seen tonight. You had a habit of playing with his hands whenever you could, running your thumb over the back of his hand when you two were holding hands, messing with his fingers to annoy him when you were watching a movie, and tracing over the creases in his palms to calm yourself down if your mind wouldn’t shut up. It helped when you were anxious, or when you couldn’t fall asleep.
Without thinking, you use your thumbs to trace over the creases in his palms, hands still rough and calloused as you remembered. For a moment, it helps calm your nerves, allowing you to think clearly. Yet, despite that, you can’t form any proper words. You untense and allow yourself to really, truly breathe. After a beat, he drops his hands into his lap, eyes searching your face for any sort of hesitance. You find yourself chasing after your hands for a moment, catching yourself and clearing your throat as you pull away.
“... I have a question. That you can say no to, okay?” He leans back, trying to seem more confident, but he wears an unsure smile on his lips.
“Okay,” You nod, your stomach, once again, flip-flopping.
“I… want to try again. If you feel the same, of course. I just…” There’s a subtle blush that dusts his cheeks as he looks around the room, reaching up and scratching at his stubble. “I meant what I said earlier today. I missed you.”
Your mouth goes dry. It isn’t something you expected– though, it is quite welcome. But you can’t help but hesitate, it sounds a little too good to be true. You bite your lip and allow the question to hang in the air for a second longer, still unable to conjure up a response. You’d tell him you’d love to, but–
“Just– Just a few dates, here and there. We don’t have to pick up where we left off,” Gallagher chimes in at your hesitation, before shrinking away, worried that he’s being too invasive.
You look down to your lap, trying to string your thoughts together and form a coherent response. This was the best possible scenario you had hoped for, so why do you feel so unsure? You fidget with your fingers, all sorts of ‘what if’s popping up in your head. What if it ends up like last time? What if this isn’t just a case of ‘right person, wrong time’, what if it always had been ‘wrong person, wrong time’? You loved Gallagher when you first started dating, you loved him when you married him, and evidently, you loved him even after the divorce. And yet… it was hard to say yes. But you couldn’t let your anxiety eat away at you this time, you promised that to yourself at that moment.
“I’d like that,” You finally speak, voice quieter than you anticipated, and shy.
When you look up at Gallagher, you can tell he’s trying to hold back his own little celebration. He opens his mouth to say something, moves a little in his seat, then closes it. His hand raises from his lap for a second, before he places it back down. Eventually, he figures out what to do. He flashes you a simple grin, the kind that made the corners of his eyes and his nose crinkle.
“Great. Yes. Totally. Okay, I’ll uhm– well, my schedule isn’t the best anymore, so… I don’t know. I mean, this can be a date, right?” He stumbles and trips over his words, unsure if he should let his excitement be visible or not. You haven’t seen him this flustered in a long, long time. And it warms your heart.
“It can,” You chuckle, tilting your head. “I mean, I did kinda miss our movie nights.”
“Perfect! I’ll, uh, well,” He moves to grab the remote off the coffee table, eyes flickering over to you in a bout of nervousness. “Guess I’ll get it started. Ah, wait– do you want some popcorn, or anything…?”
“Ah, actually… Can I ask where Whiskey is?” You can’t help but go back to the dog, as if having a movie night without the pup felt wrong.
“Oh, I-I left him in my room. Didn’t want him to annoy you or anything… uhm, did you want me to go get him?”
“Yes. Please.”
At your eager response, Gallagher practically scrambles to get up. You listen to him pad down the hallway to his room, before he opens the door. The minute that door opens, you hear Whiskey’s claws scratching at the hardwood floor as he runs to the living room to check out the new smells. He wasn’t much of a pup anymore, around 3 years old now. His floppy ears bounce up and down as he runs to you, and he practically crashes into you when he jumps up onto the couch (and ultimately into your chest). You can’t help but laugh as his entire body wiggles in excitement, licking at your face and sticking his nose into it every time you turn your head to avoid his barrage.
Gallagher can’t help but chuckle as he watches, taking his seat back, betraying you and leaving you to fend for yourself against Whiskey’s storm of kisses. Gallagher can’t help but ‘subtly’ reach over and wrap his arm around your shoulders. He figured since you were just soooo defenseless, why not sneak in? Despite the awkward, childish anxiety, like you two had just started dating from earlier, this feels so very… normal. Regardless, you didn’t have time to react either way. Whiskey was relentless with his kisses, determined to make up for the several years he didn’t see you.
Eventually, you are able to pry the dog off of you, and the space calms down for a moment, despite the excited wagging and half-lunging at you. Considering how much he has grown, it’s kind of hard to pull him back. But within a minute or two, he finally calms down, finding his peace on your lap, laying his head on your leg and staring up at you with big ol’ eyes, begging for attention every time you stop petting him.
“Let’s see…” Gallagher hums, finally turning on the tv and figuring out which streaming service to use. “What are you feeling? Horror? Classic? I’m game for whatever.”
“Hmm,” You tilt your head, scratching behind Whiskey’s ear. “I dunno. You pick.”
With a huff of approval, Gallagher chooses a streaming service, quickly scrolling through a couple of movies, before choosing a thriller. Why not be a little cliche? Even if you were used to this stuff by now, he can’t help himself. You can’t help but chuckle and smile at his choice, looking up at him through your lashes quickly. In a moment of selfishness (or perhaps lovestruck idiocy), you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek, before leaning your head onto his shoulder fully.
Gallagher can’t help but smile like a fool, hand squeezing your shoulder. He dares not to look down at you, as if he was afraid this wasn’t real. Ironic, coming from him. But, he couldn’t help it. Something he yearned for after so long, finally in his hands… Someone he had yearned for. Whiskey, however, is quite displeased with this show of affection, giving you a lethal side-eye, as if to say ‘how dare you show him love and not me.’ Such betrayal that you have shown Whiskey, choosing Gallagher over him.
Tumblr media
© freyito, 2025 | masterlist | queue | kofi | discord server | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN, REPOST ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.
47 notes · View notes
warframeinfested · 23 hours ago
Text
THEM !!! ‹'3
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
translation —
My love, you are the home and the world
translation —
I couldn't ask for anything more, you and you (repeated lyrics)
——————————————————————————
oddly enough I was very nervous posting this LMFAO 💔
reblogs are so appreciated and encouraged!! :D
pose reference, links of the songs and rambling (about why this piece was created, it's nothing serious considering it was mainly for fun) below~
AMAZING POSE REFERENCE!! ‹3
Tumblr media
SONG LINKS!
RAMBLINGS!
So, onto the reason why I made this is cause, as already specified, I wanted to do something silly and fun, and as a way to expand more on my artistic abilities and skills, hopefully! :3 my artstyle has went inconsistent due to this, so sorry for that
Basically each Hex skin I try and get in game, or someone gifts it to me, I will draw them with my drifter! Who knows if it'll be the same pose or not since I already have some ideas for others
the next one is Quincy thanks to my great friend gifting it (THABK U AGAN), which will definitely take a while since not only I'm sick, this piece took 13 hours to finish because Amir is definitely detailed 😭
It was so nice doing though because it's actually my first time drawing a character in Warframe!!
33 notes · View notes
thewertsearch · 21 minutes ago
Text
You would have loved to meet him. Unfortunately his life was cut short at the tender age of 86 in a tragic accident, coincidentally on the same day you were born, or so your dad tells you.
Nanna finally got her revenge on Baby John. Colonel Sassacre's Daunting Text might not have killed Poppop this time, but a tactical infant strike is equally deadly.
Does Spritehood beckon, or is that a little too obvious?
Poppop Crocker was a LEGENDARY COMEDIAN, following in the footsteps of his grandfather who of course was the greatest southern pranking legend of all time.
This time around, there was no flintlock pistol to cut Sassacre's life short, so he was actually able to raise John, instructing him in the noble art of japery. Betty Condesce was presumably in the picture too, and I would just love to hear her trying to explain those horns to 1920s Alabama.
Jane makes no mention of Jade here, but John didn't know about Jake's connection to his family, either. It's reasonable to assume that Jade also ran away as a child - and if she did, at least she wasn't leaving John alone with the Condesce. John seems to have taken entirely after his adoptive father, so hopefully he had as little contact with 'Crocker' as possible.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Just your basics when it comes to pranking. A few CLEVER DISGUISES. A NAME BRAND DUNCE CAP. A SLIGHTLY ABRIDGED EDITION OF SASSACRE'S TEXT, updated for the modern prankster and scrubbed of a few of the more egregious julep-fueled racial slurs, several other stray books, your company's prototypical model for the GRISTWIDGET 12000, and of course your super-handy UNREAL HEIRESS THOUGHTWAVE TIARATOP for the young gogetting junior battermaster on the go.
One of these things is not like the others.
You really have to admire the Condesce’s audacity. Sure, why not hand your brainwashing victim a mind-control headband? It's not like she's going to question another piece of Crockertech.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Your sylladex is so great.
Useful, but you probably need to make a non-Crockerized version. Is there any way to open-source the thing?
Tumblr media
And then there's a customized copy of PONY PALS, a gift to you on your 14th birthday from the slippery Mr. Strider. Each page contains lovingly hand-written commentary on the deeds of this intrepid young horse.
This gift does a lot to reassure me that Kid Bro is at least slightly more human than his previous self.
I couldn't imagine the adult Bro showing anything close to sincere appreciation for the noble horse, let alone making a heartfelt gift for a friend. Bro's only friends were the Smuppets.
Tumblr media
I also love that Maplehoof’s symbol is standing up in its alchemy recipe.
...why?
43 notes · View notes
rabbithaver · 15 hours ago
Text
Tumblr media
after quite literally the shittiest week of my entire life, i decided i needed to treat myself or else my brain would crumble into a fine powder. so i spent my Christmas money on a commission from my beloved tumblr mutual @sonicbooom (you may also know him as @dailyhogz) and holy shit, look at this. it is literally perfect!!! Noemie absolutely understood the assignment. it's a little bit uncanny how close to my vision he got with this, actually. i have reason to suspect he has telepathy or perhaps wizard powers.
also, holy hell, can you believe they'd never drawn a snow leopard until now? they got it perfect in one! Chirp looks absolutely fantastic, and Silver looks so cozy and comfy, asleep with his dad! i am just completely in love with this piece 💖 if you want some really wonderful art, you should absolutely check out Noemie's work! their style is so unique & beautiful, their work ethic is phenomenal, and their dedication is seriously impressive! i'm definitely planning on commissioning them again in the future!
go. commission him right now immediately or i'll explode you with my mind.
28 notes · View notes
nightlyrequiem · 2 days ago
Note
hiya requiem!!!!!
okay wait... im totally zooted rn so this mifht sound like wealy stupid.... but Valeria with writer!reader????!!! ^_^
like... reader is writing a dark novel... and they're like 'hey babe do you know how deep a knife needs to go before it hits a major artery and paralyzes sumone???' and val is like 'be rite back!!!' then an hour later she comes back home covered in a suspicious amount of red goo and shes like 'six inches. thats how deep' SHE CHEKCED!!!! AAAAAAAWWW!!!!!!! SO ROMANTIC RIGHT???!!!! (〃´▽`)
OKAAYYYY!!! soooh... it can be both hcs or a oneshot idm!!!! but i do want it to include either reader knowing vals occupatiom or they're just blissfully stupid clueless!!! 🥳🥳🥳
as always thank u foe ur time ans thanks soso much in advancies if u decide to write this!!! buhbye!!! :33
-🃏🌀⭐️
Hiya!! Omg I love this actually. Lowkey wish I had this IRL... but you're so right there's literally nothing more romantic then your wife stabbing a guy just so you can write about it accurately. True love right there. Just pretend you don't see the bloodstains and all will be good :3
Valeria x Author!Reader
You're working on your novel, and you're just stumped by the this one part. One of your characters gets stabbed but you want it to be accurate. But the internet is kind of useless. It either doesn't give you the information you're looking for, or it gives you that little hotline number.
But hey, your girlfriend was in the military and active combat!!! (Presuming you don't know what she does for a living.) So you ask her. Valeria loves you to pieces and also loves your writing. Of course she'll help you figure out how deep a knife has to go in order to paralyze someone. Just let her go ask some of her old war buddies, 'kay?
And by old war buddies, I mean victims. She already has an idea of where to hit in order to paralyze someone. Around the neck and spine. Each stab wound is measured meticulously and written down so she can bring them back to her precious partner. She finds the perfect reference for you. It was messy and a little hard to do, but stabbing someone under the ear in the neck where it begins to slope towards their shoulder. Roughly 3-4 inches down. The Common Carotid. (I googled it, so you probably could too, but for the sake of this let's pretend there's absolutely no information about it on the interwebs.)
Four corpses and three ruined shirts later, she's back with a sheet of references and even explains the process to you. Valeria is so kind as to even give you a physical demonstration. Not on a real person, she'd hate to frighten you. Though she didn't notice the splatter of blood on the bottom of her shirt. You did, and she had to find a valid reason as to why she had that. It's just jam, sweetheart, nothing to worry about.
Though things would be even easier if you knew about her current job. She'd probably let you sit in on interrogations to take notes or explain how certain mechanics work. It definitely wouldn't be practical or realistic because I'd imagine someone who runs a cartel would want to keep it under wraps. But anyway, she'd let you take notes and watch. If you're okay with it, she'd probably use a person for that physical demonstration.
Now your book has an accurate paralysis scene. Your readers praise you for your attention to detail and the realism. All thinks to your wonderful, murderous wife. Oh, those men that went missing were found with wounds similar to the ones in your book? What a coinky-dink!
28 notes · View notes