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someguyinc · 1 year ago

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Guinevere "There is always a choice" Pendragon is unironically the strongest character in bbc merlin.

why?? because she knows how to say no!! not only to those around her but to herself as well. gwen's strength as a character comes not from her eventual status as queen, but to understand and utilize the information given to her and then choose accordingly regardless of fear mongering. in a story where the villain is the narrative/cycles of abuse gwen wins against the underlying adversary every. single. time. where every other character with major plot points literally fails at this so hard it either results in their own moral demise or their literal death, gwen tanks through the challenge and even gives others hope where there seems to be none

every other character is controlled by some sort of fate,, arthur is told by the disir that "he has always been known" and that the fate of camelot is doomed unless he embraces the old religion, he's also born a prince and knows his entire life is laid out for him, merlin is told that he must help to bring magic back to the lands if arthur is to live and camelot of be successful, and morgana is first plagued by visions of the future (which as we learn in merlin that knowing the future does nobody any good) and then is told that emrys will be her doom.

gwen,, is just gwen :), yes other people know of her fate and purposefully try to mold it but she herself isn't fully and because she is free of the narrative cage, instead of being pulled to and fro by the other characters whims, she fortifies her own beliefs and through trial and anguish learns that nobody is coming to save her from cycles of fear except herself

(very obviously there are time when gwen is put in the damsel in distress situation, but to me it's the type that megara from hercules is in: "i'm a damsel, i'm in distress, have a nice day :)" )

let's look at lancelot and guinevere's relationship specifically and how their character thesis parallel each other and how it plays into her being better than everyone else

when lancelot arrives he and gwen immediately hit it off,, they're infatuated with the other and think of the other often having romantic moments and lingering touches before he eventually leaves without saying goodbye in the first season. lancelot is in my opinion the antithesis to gwen's character, not because he is guided by some bigger fate (because so are merlin and arthur) but precisely because he is also someone technically "free" of that narrative cage.

lancelot came to camelot because he wanted to be a knight, when he found out he couldn't be, after shenanigans and committing identity theft, he left and eventually became a sell sword as he had "no other choice",, when they eventually break out he leaves gwen again after learning arthur has feelings for her instead of fighting for her telling merlin: "she has changed him forever but some things are just not meant to be"

taking away her choice, but also confining himself to the gilded cage of fate for what he thinks is for her but really was for him

lancelot is not the only character who does this, in fact almost all of the bbc merlin character do:

merlin has times where he repeatedly goes to gwen and tells her about his dilemmas where he talks about how dismayed he is that he doesn't have a choice where gwen then repeatedly reminds him that he actually does have a choice,, these interactions flow on through merlin to arthur where the closer merlin is to gwen he remembers that he always has a choice to do the right thing and only reverts back to "i have no choice" as the seasons go on and they distance themselves

is sort of a reverse of merlin, arthur the closer he gets to gwen, is further introduced to the idea of free will,, specifically in his love life when he knows that he will have to marry one day and goes from telling gwen that they could never actually happen, to outright marrying her in front of king and country not because gwen pushed him to, but because she gave him the confidence to be the king he could be and realize he didn't want to spend a life bound to destiny (not that he had much of a choice tbh)

morgana and gwen are so interesting to me because she was a character who tried to fight against destiny,, but also clung to it like the future was a solid thing and let her hatred consume her because of fate, like when fighting gwen in s4ep13,, gwen asks why she despises her so much and morgana replies "it's not you it's what you will become",, like even in fighting against fate morgana doesn't even question of what she is seeing is set in stone she just assumes it is and acts according like (does that make sense??)

gwen has her own prejudices and anger, by the time s5 rolls around she is wary of magic and has seen it destroy so many of her loved ones and those she's supposed to protect as queen. but like,, her constant determination not just to do the right thing because so many of these characters believe they are, but to reminder others and herself that "you always have a choice" saved not just her life but all the other characters lives multiple times

in fact camelot was often in its most critial danger when gwen wasn't there, either physically or mentally,, the only thing that could be done to stop the positive effect she had was to literally brainwash her and even that took so much effort because even under extremely psychological abuse gwen refused to give in to morgana's torture and only broke when her brother literally died in front of her

(i also could make an entire post on the SCRAPS. that the bbc gave us on gwen and elyan's relationship and their reaction to choice)

anyways gwen solos hope this makes sense <3

#some guy talking #bbc merlin #bbc guinevere #guinevere pendragon #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #bbc lancelot #parallels and theme #im just yapping fr #merlin meta

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festivalofthe12 · 6 months ago

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No but it really is starting to settle on me just how much MORE popular Yuki/Kakeru is since the new anime came out.

Like: I recently regained access to my old livejournal from the late 00s!!!! And unfortunately I made that after the height of my Fruits Basket phase, but I still did make some mention of Yuki/Kakeru... And, well.

18) A pairing that is woefully unappreciated! YUKI/FRICKINGKAKERU. I swear, there's less than a PAGE of this on fanfic.net. Less than a PAGE. Geez, it's implied SO MUCH in so many scenes, even WITHOUT the whole 'I'll brake up with you' thing. Bloody fandom, don't appreciate good characters and pairings when they see them... (8/3/2008)

And as I implied in an earlier post, while I was trawling through the Ao3 tag (still on-going!!) I decided to give myself a blast from the past and re-read through the Yuki S. and Kakeru M. filter on ff.net, which I remember checking religiously. Today? Three pages.

Ao3 has 10 pages and 200 works!!!

And even then, like, lately I've been going through my old bookmarks (sadly I've only found one Yuki/Kakeru, which I'd already remembered anyway), with a current focus on Zuko/Aang. Well, even just by googling I can immediately summon up whole rec lists of livejournal snippets and fic memes and the like, so I was excited to see what I could dig out for Yukeru, since I certainly remember Fruits Basket having a big presence on that site!

Nothing. Literally, I haven't found anything yet. Save a livejournal comm with exactly three posts, long-dead.

Of course, it makes sense that the new anime brought in new fans: Kakeru famously never showed up in the old anime, so people would only have ever even met him if they read through to, what? Volume 8? Later? of the manga. And I do recall the fandom being far less... Yuki-positive, back then. Yuki/Kyou was a popular ship, of course, and Yuki/Haru was around, but those ships had Kyou and Haru fans behind them; you'd only ship Yukeru if you were really invested in Yuki himself.

But it's still just boggling me. I did find Yuki/Kakeru rec lists, but they're all from the last few years. They alone have as much fanfic as ff.net had of Yukeru total back in 2008, when Kakeru had surely existed for a good half a decade at least, even in English.

Is there something about the current fanfiction landscape that is far more amenable to Yuki/Kakeru? Probably, yeah, I think: it's a pairing very situated for queer coming-of-age found family type stories, which are much more popular now. (Not that they never existed before! But fandom was much less... consciously activist-y. Maybe I'm just betraying my age back then, but it was much more common to ship boys simply because they were ~smexy~ together, as I think I myself cringefully wrote about Yuki/Kyou in my very first livejournal post...)

And it's. Such a strange feeling. I remember when I realised that season 2 of the anime had come out, and on a whim deciding to check the Yuki/Kakeru fanfic tag on ao3. And I thought I found only a small number! And I read one, and went 'oh cool, my old ship has Plural New Works!' and moved on!!! I truly had no IDEA there were so MANY... or that they were so GOOD.

Yuki/Kakeru was one of the first ships I ever wrote. The fic was very long and I'm sure very bad, though unfortunately this is from the period of my writings lost to time, so I'll sadly never be able to check it out for my (current) self. I think it was the first lemon I ever wrote; on a Pirates of the Caribbean fic I exclaimed that this second lemon was much better than my first, and I have a sneaking suspicion Yuki/Kakeru is who my 14-or-so old self had written like that.

I made a friend on ff.net because they were one of the very few Yuki/Kakeru writers. I have a visceral memory of coming upon the 'I'll break up with you' scene while reading the manga at school during lunch, and how I immediately exclaimed it aloud in great excitement, startling a poor teacher who had been talking to one of my friends and no doubt knew me as being very quiet. I'm sure I must have drawn it in all sorts of little doodles; I saved a lot of my old high school arts, so maybe I should try going through those as well?

I don't know. I'm just feeling a great sense of awe, I guess, haha. That ship was *so important to me*, and it was *so hard* to find anyone else who felt as strongly as me! (My friends all liked Fruits Basket with me, of course, but we've always tended to have divergent ship tastes.) And right beneath my nose, it has had a renaissance! It sprouted and bloomed and then went dormant again while I twiddled my thumbs, vaguely promising myself that I'd get back to the new anime at some point or other!

God I just. REALLY wish I'd been paying attention while the anime was airing, hahaha. :') My inner child has been so thoroughly validated by this all, that this ship I cared so much about really IS as great and important and meaningful as I'd always thought it was! But how must it have been to be in the thick of it all, when the ship tags were thriving? When I could've seen the new viewer's reactions to famous scenes? When everyone else was thinking about Yukeru as much as I have been, this last month or so?

But I'm not only unhappy. i can't not be grateful that these people have come and made works which I can still now and enjoy, and that there are still certainly people around to like my silly little Yukeru posts and even maybe make new ones. Things are so much better now than they were back then.

It's just. Incredible. Why didn't any of this happen back then?! Why did this Understanding take so long to spread and percolate?!? I don't know. But I'm happy. My younger self... is so, so happy. :'DDD

#yukeru #fruits basket #i. literally just went to choose an appropriate avatar.#FUN FACT yknow all those lj avatars I shared recently??#I uploaded a couple to my dreamwidth account!!#who'd've thought those icons made possibly 20 years ago might still find use :'D

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solhrafn · 1 year ago

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I went Full-Fuji! (GFX One Year Review)

One year ago, I decided to ditch my Nikon DSLRs for a Fujifilm GFX 50R.

The GFX's sensor is larger than a full-frame sensor with a crop factor of 0.79

A little over a year ago, I still was using a few Nikon DSLRs to do just about anything. For portraits and landscape, I had a very respectable D810. Enough megapixels to provide some room for cropping and a decent dynamic range for most situations. For action and hobby-wildlife I had a D500. A durable mini-tank with performance that to this day would be hard to dismiss even in the light of mirrorless flagship innovation.

However, the question of my camera-future slowly crept into my mind. Was it time to change and upgrade into the Nikon Z system? Switching to a Z7 would indeed have been a sensible move, adapting older lenses while getting the sensor of the D850 in a smaller, cheaper body with an ecosystem of native lenses with the optical quality up to specs for the next decade. On paper and elsewhere, it should have been the obvious choice. Yet my answer to this question was a resounding "no" and I went against reason to set my sights on a Fujifilm GFX 50R. I took that model over the S because I enjoy the rangefinder form factor.

In hindsight, the smartest of all moves would probably have been to remain with what I had, adhering to the ancient photographic wisdom: "lenses are more important than cameras". My kits could have kept me satisfied for probably another 10 years if we are being honest. I could have stayed within the F mount ecosystem and could have taken advantage of its downright insane price drops to get top-of-the-line lenses for peanuts instead of selling the farm on a whim, however carefully considered it might have been.

These old and trusty Nikon DSLRs got sold off to finance the 50R

The truth is that after fifteen years of walking the beaten paths camera-wise, I wanted to shake things up. I longed for a change of pace. I felt confident enough in my practice to know what type of photography I would want to engage in for the foreseeable future. I also felt confident enough that I'd be able to answer the call of the occasional assignment using a camera system that would have a non-negligible amount of drawbacks. The challenge even seemed like a fun new variable to add to contracts. Thus, the choice I made for my photographic future has been one born out of love rather than made from a place of reason.

When I think of good photographic memories involving the process — how photography is approached with mind and body — I immediately have two very different ideas jumping to mind and each has an ideal type of tool that best suits it. Neither of these are about efficiency. Neither of these are about performance beside niche-performance, perhaps. But that, is more of an acquired taste and it also comes at a price, but we'll see about that later.

The first idea is an instinctive and spontaneous approach, form of feral and visceral active meditation, akin to Daido's rabid dog method; roaming the streets clear of thoughts and letting the subconscious take the helm. Shooting, shooting, shooting and discovering everything later. No plan, only image-taking. No clear framing, no image-reviewing, no judgement to pass, no threads to weave. Only arrange and make sense later, if there's any of that to find.

Results using the "rabid dog" method, using a Fujifilm X100, 2014

For this type of photography, the Fujifilm X100 was the tool that instantly clicked with me. The "poorman's Leica" is an apt way to describe what the X100 represented when it came out. I got the original 12mp camera in 2012 as a fun but capable toy to bring along my Nikon D700, until the shutter release button (which also is the on/off switch) broke off in 2020 after one power-up too many. I have since replaced it with a Fuji X-Pro 2 with the XF 18mm F2, 27mm F2.8 and 50mm F2 lenses. To this day, such small Fuji bodies are my tool of choice for this kind of photographic mood (and of course, for family pictures).

Fuji X100 later replaced by the X-Pro 2 as street photography go-to.

The second photographic process that I tend to naturally gravitate towards stems from my first year of photography school, during which all projects had to be done using film and would have us deal with the whole process (that is to say; shooting, developing, printing, framing, and displaying our work ourselves). It is with nostalgia that I look upon the memories from that time.

There sure is something inherently different in figuring out what to do with the exposures one has left on their film than being able to inconsequentially shoot within two hours three thousand pictures through which you can almost immediately browse. The latter is of course more practical and a welcome technological improvement, but the former brings an unhurried and deliberate focus that I find both refreshing and appealing.

When I think of my strongest recollection of touching the quintessence of the analog experience, the days of using my Mamiya 645 immediately come to mind. Such sluggish, heavy-as-a-couple-bricks box-machines compel one to being careful and purposeful every step of the way. I need that too.

Mamiya 645 Super, since sold to finance GF lenses.

I have for the longest of time considered getting a more serious medium format camera but some quick-math with the price of film, chemicals and photographic paper made me realize that digital medium format was actually much more worth the investment while most definitely retaining some of the core characteristics of its analog counterparts. My love for the film process couldn't hold up against all the advantages of going digital, especially when buying second-hand.

Using medium format always felt like journeying inwards. It has allowed me to spend long hours in daydreaming-states paradoxically laced with an acute awareness of my surroundings. When thinking about medium format, I can recall the soul-washing quality of some of the winds that swept my cheeks while I was standing next to the tripod waiting for the exposure of the 50iso film to finish.

States of contemplation. Another kind of active meditation?

Of course, any camera can provide this type of feeling, but of all of the digital cameras available, medium format is the one type that will weigh you down the most and dictate the pace you work at.

Telepanoramas created with the Fujifilm GFX 50R

Notice how these two ideas are almost the ends of a spectrum?

The first one is nervous and agitated, highly reactive, while the other is composed, meticulous and invites introspective fugue-states, yet they both share one vital element in the way that I approach them in that they take the practical considerations out of the picture to leave more space for what is going on within me.

The setting up of the camera or lack thereof becomes an excuse for something else. Maybe it isn't a surprise, that my adhd-ridden brain experiences this inexorable attraction for both these approaches. For they are in essence, two sides of the same coin, with each side matching different, specific and fluctuating needs.

Let's dive in!

After selling my DSLRs, I started looking for a good second-hand candidate. After a month or so, I found a barely used GFX 50R sold with a 50mm 3.5, a couple additional batteries and an L-bracket to boot. The price was rather attractive for the bundle, so it seemed like the time to take the leap. After a short but excruciating wait for the package to arrive, I finally was able to join the larger-than-35mm-sensor club.

How it started

My first few months with the camera had me immediately blown away by the difference in output. The higher resolution and the sensor's qualities made the (very much existing) noise hardly noticeable when downsized to small printing or screen-viewing sizes. What also immediately struck me, was the looks of the images the camera produced. Images taken with the GFX feel more "3D" to me. It is a very peculiar and hard to describe feeling. I suspect it is a combination of factors; the depth of field of the larger sensor and the very smooth transitions between what's in focus and what is not that it permits, the colour depth, and the quality of the optics. I've seen many Youtube reviews, read forum threads or been in discussions on Discord about GFX cameras where people (who more often than not don't own one) will maintain that these qualities don't exist at all. After a year in the system I can confidently state that they're wrong.

I can't really put my finger on what causes these differences as I am not as tech-savvy as I could be, but it is still clear as day. To use a pretty apt analogy, I would say that the difference between full-frame and (crop) medium format is akin to the difference between aps-c and full-frame cameras. Are they deal-breaking? Not necessarily. For some people they can be. Are they noticeable? Definitely. It is especially funny to me to see medium format cameras being dismissed by such a many full-frame shooter who at the same time, is constantly bashing aps-c sensors.

Don't you love to pixel-peep? Omnomnom (imagine with 102mp!)

This being said, I will always fully stand by the statement that full-frame cameras are the more sensible choice as they are better all-rounders by design. High-res cameras like Sony's A7RV or equivalent are also better high-iso performers than the aging IMX161 sensor that the GFX 50 series uses, which sees its operational limit at around 6400iso (but the GFX 100 would be another matter entirely). A top-tier full-frame camera is evidently more practical, lighter and cheaper without any deal-breaking image quality difference to what the medium format niche can offer. When all costs are factored in, the choice would seem self-evident. If you consider medium format, it should be understood that you know this before committing to any bigboy sensor. Or don't heed this and make people who buy second hand happy, as GFX gear loses almost one third of its value once it hits the second hand market (a consequence of too many people jumping on the medium format bandwagon only to realise — way too late — that it wasn't for them).

Are we cooking yet?

I need to talk about the GFX's files for a little bit; I'm a raw shooter only — which hopefully you'd have guessed — (in my opinion anyone buying into a medium format to shoot jpeg must have cognitive issues or too much money, or possibly both) and I have to say that when I opened the raw files to give the sliders their very first +100/-100 or +3/+4 EV from base iso (or any combination of these) I was utterly floored by how well the files could handle such an ungodly beating.

This isn't a joke, I promise.

This type of camera makes the slider memes come true, to a point where for the first few months, my ability to edit properly was severely impaired by the glee I experienced while pushing everything way too far. I believe it is not an uncommon symptom at the start of a medium format journey. It takes a while to come back from that and simply be able to tell yourself "ok here, maybe less dynamic range would be a good edit". I'm getting better at this as I consciously try to avoid overcooking.

Clean recovery? Can do!

On the image-taking side of things, the major change for me with regards to file-handling is that I'm almost systematically exposing for highlights now. Adding 3EV and boosting shadows in post when shooting at low iso is inconsequential in terms of image quality as there won't be any visible noise whatsoever on the output, unlike my aps-c cameras that will show noise even at base iso. Similarly to many other aspects medium format manages well, this is something I got used to very quickly.

To adapt or to not adapt, that was the question, here's my answer:

At first, I tried adapting my old Mamiya 645 lenses to the 50R. It was useful in the sense that it allowed me to enjoy different fields of view at no cost but it quickly felt like a plaster on a wooden leg. I'm not someone who enjoys the manual focusing as a default and I've grown more and more intolerant of the optical flaws of older lenses as time went by. I realised that it wasn't a viable long term solution for me and quickly chose to sell all my Mamiya cameras and lenses to finance native glass for the GFX.

My experience adapting? It was alright but not at all ideal.

Which lenses then?

Getting into the GFX system I promised myself I would make no compromise whatsoever on optical quality and directly aimed for the 250mm F4 (mainly for tele-landscapes) and 110mm F2 (mainly for portraits). The grind felt long but it really wasn't, as I managed to secure both lenses from the second hand market within 6 months. It is only later that I added the 35-70mm "kit" lens to my arsenal to fill the wide-angle gap I had. As I seldom feel the need to shoot wider than short-tele fields of views, this is more of a lens of convenience.

The difference between adapting older lenses and using native glass was night and day to me. Two things made this the better choice in my view: first, I've been actively seeking the "clinical" quality of modern optics. I do not care much for the "character" of older lenses especially not if the word is used to help one overlook a lens' unforgivable flaws. Second, while there sure are lenses worth adapting out there, this come at a cost for the adapting to be worth it (the cost of an AF-capable adapter and of course the cost of the lenses themselves) which I saw as a waste of my limited resources. I told myself I wasn't going to make compromises, remember?

One year after switching, I am now knee-deep into the system, having sold most of my Nikon gear as well as my Mamiya medium format film-cameras to acquire some of the incredibly hard to resist GF lenses.

After a year of transforming a heap of dormant gear and side-gig revenue into new lenses, I also noticed that the representation I had about the worth of money also changed radically when gear was concerned.

A little over a year ago, an XF lens priced 800€ definitely seemed like a steep investment I'd try to find alternative choices for. Nowadays, 800€ is a mere budget lens in my mind. Seeing the price tags of GF lenses doesn't make my head spin anymore and this is somewhat worrisome for the thrifty Dutchman living in the back of my brain.

With the announcement of the 500mm F5.6 lens being in development (a focal length I definitely miss from my Nikon days, I'm a sucker for ultra-telephoto landscape photography), I fear I will manage to push my monetary boundaries further back yet, which I will help achieve by selling my X-T3 video-oriented kit.

APS-C: you're dead to me.

An unforeseen consequence of my GFX switch was that my aps-c cameras were pretty much relegated to the bottom gear drawer and seldom used barring a few notable exceptions (such as a wedding gig) where the need for its autofocusing speed was greater than the need for image and file quality.

To reuse the analogy I made earlier; my X-Pro 2 and X-T3 have become to me what a micro-four-thirds camera would be to a full-frame camera user. Getting into Fujifilm's medium format system prompted me to think about how I use my cameras and to what end. The realisation that there is a clear split in my photographic approaches I evoked at the very beginning of this article is the result of that thought process.

Although I will sell my X-T3 because it feels superfluous and I want to stop my video gigs completely, (and because my need for GFX lens money is still great), I would never part with my X-Pro 2 nor the few XF lenses that I have as they serve a totally different purpose to that of the GFX's.

Having a compact, fast, discreet yet still capable camera that can be casually put into a pocket is an advantage that I would be a fool to part with. The X-Pro is a more practical choice for street-photography, documentary in less-than-favourable conditions, as well as for family pictures, when packing a brick of a camera and two bricks worth of lenses for a walk in the park in suboptimal weather would be met with a tired roll-eye from my spouse.

My dear X-Pro, I'm Never Ever Gonna Give You Up

Of course there have been many occasions for which I have chosen to take the challenge and went into these situations with the GFX. However, I wouldn't want the GFX to be the only option at my disposal in such cases.

For example, during the last wedding I shot, when the dining room got darker and the guests started moving around a lot (and dancing), the switch to aps-c cameras was absolutely necessary because of how difficult it was to consistently get acceptable results in poor light and with subjects making erratic movements. When you are held under a result-delivering imperative, you have to be able to honour it.

Packing a Fuji GF or Fuji X kit can be a slightly different experience

"Megapickles don't matter!"

This was an idea that I lived by just a few years ago. I changed my mind. I still believe that megapixels don't matter when you don't have them. Just like one should shoot with the camera one has / is able to afford. It doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things but all these technical niceties just make one's life more comfortable. Cropping, denoising through file reduction algorithms, or enjoying detail endlessly because one can, these are just the icing on the cake. I just happen to like my cakes with more icing than cake now.

Regarding resolution specifically, it's been another area in which there seems to be no possible coming back. Nowadays, every time a manufacturer announces a new camera and I discover they plan to fit it with a 24MP sensor I dismiss the information entirely. It doesn't register anymore. 32-36 is the new 24 in my mind now and it's sometimes difficult to come back from those expectations.

This being said I have no issue using lower resolution aps-c that I own and could perhaps even have fun with a X-Pro 1 because then the output quality wouldn't be my prime concern. It is only concerning new releases that my interest dips firmly for "low" MP cameras.

Did I tell you that medium format AF sucks?

Before I conclude this one-year review, let me hammer this point in with a two-handed mace; it can't be understated, especially for the GFX 50 series which uses contrast detection — the autofocus will throw you back to the early 2000s. Be ready to be stuck on single point, single AF mode because that's the only thing that will be consistent enough.

Then let's not forget other factors that add to the bad and make it worse; the shutter lag is half a second, the sensor readout speed is 1/4th of a second, and the time the shutter takes to clear the large sensor in combination with the camera's high resolution means you'll need higher shutter speeds in order to get rid of motion blur when shooting handheld (count about one stop faster than usual). Those would be valid reasons as to why a less niche camera system makes more sense for a lot of people.

The final comment:

Despite its sometimes dramatic drawbacks, I definitely have found the pleasure I sought when I originated this system switch. The change and the adapting my process is engaging and makes me think more about what I do, what I use, when and why. This is a win on its own.

All in all I feel like I am still at the very start of my journey though I've had the opportunity to test my GFX 50R in a wide array of situations in the past year (portrait, landscape, documentary) it seems like the way forward is clear and also opened for plunging deeper into this incredibly fun (but needlessly expensive) rabbit hole.

The upcoming 500mm, the prospect of finding an original GFX 100 (with its weirdly appealing tiltable EVF) are ideas that will — for the foreseeable future — definitely keep pulling me back in (and emptying my pockets).

Fun! Fun! Fun!

#fujifilm gfx #photographers on tumblr

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lumenflowered · 1 year ago

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Hello! You have had several interactions with my owner at this point. None of them have been positive, especially the most recent one. I am not here to apologise on her behalf, as it is not my place to, but I will inform you that she did intend to apologise for any offence caused, though was stymied for reasons that it is not my place to elaborate on.

For all the words I have spent on that topic, this ask is not overmuch about that.

I am an individual of some curiosity, and you are quite the interesting individual yourself. I do not intend to judge your choice of team members, to be clear, but I would like to ask if, overall, there was any particular rhyme or reason to your selection, or if it was a matter of whim. My owner, you see, selected all of her team members very meticulously, but I am led to understand that is not usually the case, and I would like to gather as much data on this matter as possible.

Furthermore, and I understand this is a much darker and sensitive questions, but as a digital being that does not dream, not even of Mareep, I find myself fascinated by dreams and nightmares; you seem to have clear idea of what prompts yours, so I would appreciate if you would explain how this came to be. Of course, you are allowed to refuse to answer this inquiry.

Ah! I appear to have rambled on and on somewhat. My apologies. Regardless of your response, I hope your day is pleasant and productive to the extent you desire.

...Hello. I suppose you must be a Ghost-type of some kind yourself?

or a porygon

I do not know what that is.

Regarding the selection of my team members... there are only two that I actively chose myself: Rakuyo and Evelyn. In the case of Rakuyo, I was offered a choice between three Pokémon, and Rakuyo caught my eye immediately. As for Evelyn, I had been... made aware of an alternate dimension where there were a truly staggering amount of types, and Horsea was a Gun-type Pokémon in that particular dimension.

If Evelyn had not been willing to come along, I would have simply continued to battle Horsea until I found one that was.

In every other case, I suppose that they chose me to an extent. Hunter spent quite a significant amount of time tracking me prior to any sort of formal encounter, hence the name. Molotov was extremely enthusiastic about a battle and, once we had prevailed, made it very clear that he did not wish to be left behind. Adeline, as is logged on this very account, briefly pilfered my Pokétch while I was otherwise occupied with a battle and then was surprised when I threw a Pokéball at her to get it back.

first human to actually notice me messing around with her things

shes weird. i like hanging out with her tho

...I will choose to take that as a compliment.

With regards to dreams and nightmares, mine are... complicated, yet not. I do not originate from this world. In the one I hail from, there was a god of the ocean that supposedly perished and washed up on the shore of a fishing village.

I and... some others... went there to investigate it.

Gods, evidently, do not die so easily after all. That corpse should have been left well alone.

For my role in what happened that day, I have had nightmares of the ocean ever since.

...With one exception. Strangely, the move Dream Eater does seem to mitigate them.

they taste kinda gross but i can help in a pinch :P

I hope your day, too, is pleasant and productive to the extent you desire.

#rotomblr #pokeblogging #pokeblog rp #pokemon irl #getting spooky with it

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cathalpaint · 2 months ago

Text

On me

I have been very sporadically present on this site. As anyone who looks at it will most likely know me, there’s not much to tell that adds to that. Life has been very intense for the last few years. I lost my footing and fell. My mental health issues that I had no idea were issues came a calling. My marriage fell apart, I saw the woman I loved die a little day by day. I saw her become someone else. (I accept that I failed the marriage and her, but I won’t accept the totality of the blame of the situation. But all that is another bucket of thoughts I’m not getting into today.) My children suffered and needed more support, love and comfort than they were given. I was hit full on by the depth of my isolation and struggled to survive. I followed my heart. I followed my head. I helped my children cope with their immediate grief. I was ostracised by those whose support I could have used. I’m not proud, but glad to have survived 3 attempted suicides. I found security and care and lost it again. I felt heartbreak and grief that overwhelmed, I almost lost the care of my children and was almost sectioned. But I’m still here. Why this post, why now? It’s not all been pain and clouds of sorrow. If you could see my thoughts as I type this. There is a side of me that yells how dare I. How dare I complain when others have suffered more and are suffering more. I accept that they have suffered more and are suffering more, but I’m not in a suffering competition. My experience is worthy as any others. But I digress from my internal debate. I’m writing this for me and to me. It is the 14th of October 2024, and I am alive. I want (no wishes - wishes are for the benefit of the world, if wishes exist I shall not waste them on personal whims.) I want to use this as a journal

. I have been struggling to find a format that works for me. Throughout this whole life, I feel like literal chapters have been closed and opened. Along with the clouds and fogs in my head, I have experienced joys that I think few get to experience. I found the most intense love, I have been so deliriously happy. I have found all my senses overwhelmingly fulfilled. I have been moved to tears and ecstasy by trees in rainy sunlight. UI’m not a spiritual person. I was once, and I can see how some would view these moments as a lifting of the veil. I have experienced a depth of friendship that still seems s to grow. I have undergone therapy that has shaken the very foundations of who I thought I was. Today? I’m growing. Since 2016 my life has been influx. Wall after wall of illusion and revelation have collapsed, and all the things I have done in the past now lie before me as actions. My therapy has allowed me to see the reasons for my choices and actions, and the thing I choose to do. Now I feel like I’m starting over. I try to picture myself younger, my internal vision of myself. It’s no longer there. I am free to be me. However, I no longer have the full motivations for all the behaviours I want. My motivations in the past were never fully for me. They were to gain acceptance and to people please. To escape and not face who ever I am now. So I’m learning to do things again. But for me. And with that comes rebellion and fear. These actions like washing dishes, sweeping floors, self-care even my art, while part of these were completed for me. Overwhelmingly, they were completed for the benefit of others. The art is a different beast. I was away of shutting all of it out and dwelling with in. I wanted love and acceptance. I wanted to feel worth. I was filled with self loathing and anger that I couldn’t love myself, that I was not worthy of that love. So now I am learning how to be loving to myself and how to care for the human I am. I can forgive myself when I mess up as a parent. But I find it difficult to find that compassion for myself. I am full of what if, why can’t I, I should and other judgment thoughts. So the why? I write this as an expression of the past and the current state. It’s not structured well. It’s a brain fart of a mind dump and that okay. It’s ambiguous, as I’m going to put it public. It’s for me, as I know where I have been and where I am. I think I know where I want to be. No, I don’t know where I’m going or how to get there, really. I just know those answers need to be found by doing in the here and now. The past only reveals to me patterns of behaviour that based on escape and giving up of responsibility. Where I am now, is scary for different reasons. What if I die before I get to progress much further. What if I never love again. What if I’m wrong again. What if. What if. My choice is to be compassionate to myself. To take my internal voice and tell it how I want to be spoken to. Setting the boundaries I want. Stern enough to jolly myself along when I am capable of pushing more. Compassionate enough to know when I’m nearing my limit. Focused enough to help me cut the chaff from my behaviours. I want this to be a daily practice and to see how I develop through the practice.

#thoughts #mental health #growth

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haztory · 4 years ago

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hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today!

warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option.

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size.

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable.

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid—

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love.

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation.

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness.

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it—

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you.

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you.

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out.

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face.

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath.

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap.

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before.

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #my fics #my writing #my writing event #follower event

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fruitcoops · 4 years ago

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hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

“One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing. “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

287 notes · View notes

there-must-be-a-lock · 4 years ago

Text

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself.

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo card, and also for @railmereid‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week.

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.”

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face.

“Seriously?” you ask.

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?”

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?”

“Shocking.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly.

“A what?”

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be.

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.”

“Huh.”

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”

“That’s… a good question, honestly.”

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?”

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly.

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?”

“Not really.” He shrugs.

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.”

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.”

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer.

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan.

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid?

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess?

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic.

You’re used to that, though.

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops.

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?”

“Please.”

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake.

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags.

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?”

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet.

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?”

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face.

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open.

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily.

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.”

“Holy—”

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face.

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.”

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —”

You grin. “I came prepared, though!”

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly.

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused.

“It’s essential viewing.”

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you.

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?”

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better.

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.”

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message.

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you.

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder.

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care.

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw.

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks.

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed.

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.”

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.”

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?”

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns.

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.”

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs.

“Of course they are.”

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning.

“It’s all washable, Spencer.”

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —”

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist.

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains.

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed.

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit.

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close.

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.”

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum.

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have.

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen.

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing.

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up.

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin.

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing.

His eyes light up.

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun.

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?”

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!”

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile.

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.”

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white.

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting.

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing.

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.”

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly.

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.”

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.”

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.”

“I think I get it now.”

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.”

“Or we can pretend it is.”

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under.

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds.

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight.

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring.

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.”

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying.

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.”

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy —

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath.

“Safety?”

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.”

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.”

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —”

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you.

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation.

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply.

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him.

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.

He stares.

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it.

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real.

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.”

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

It really is.

#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Time and Chance

Characters: Albedo, Childe, Diluc, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,028

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Confessions are tricky things. Sometimes it takes week, maybe months, maybe years of building up courage for one to happen. And sometimes life throws the oddest wrenches in our paths.

In which the reader confesses.

Author’s Note: I may or may not have decided to go full sappy this week, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you guys with my overbearing angst. Also I thought it was cute. Originally I wasn’t sure if I wanted the reader to be the one doing the confessing or whether it should be the character. I decided upon the reader on a whim essentially, with the idea that I could do the character later. We’ll see! The title today is reference to one of my favorite novels, written by Sharon Kay Penman. If anyone likes historical fiction I’d highly recommend it.

Today’s characters are Albedo, Childe, and Diluc. Tomorrow will be Kaeya, Xiao, and Zhongli. And maybe Keqing.

Like I said in my past post Happy Valentine’s Day! Although this time it’s Valentine’s Day proper.

Albedo

In your defense, who wouldn’t fall in love with Albedo?

The mysterious alchemist of Monstadt; sharp as a tack, insatiably curious, and blessed with an ethereal sort of beauty on top of it. Who wouldn’t fall in love with such a person?

And that was the problem. You’d sort of taken it for granted that everyone loved Albedo, and in that assumption you’d found a particularly distasteful discovery. That if everyone loved Albedo then you were hardly going to be the only one asking after his time. And, following that line of thought, you figured it’d be incredibly rude – not to mention supremely irritating for Albedo – for you to confess your feelings.

And it wasn’t as if you two were the closest in the world. Although you wouldn’t say you were total strangers either. You instead drifted in that odd in between; more than acquaintances, not quite friends. Or at least that’s how you interpreted it. Albedo didn’t seem to be the person with inclinations towards friendship in general, a not altogether untrue or wild assumption, so you remained content where you were, happy with the conversations you had, with the times he’d trust you with a piece of equipment or would explain to you in detail what he was working on. I mean, surely that was enough?

Absolutely not. Even in your state of perpetual irritation and fretting over your feelings, you knew that simply ignoring them was a ridiculous solution. When did that ever go well? Miscommunication was the relationship killer, no matter what type, and what could be more of a misunderstanding than this? You didn’t even know what he thought of you for Seven’s sake!

So you’d resolved yourself to telling him. Even if he’d be irritated surely he’d appreciate your honesty. And even if he didn’t you needed to tell him, for yourself if not for him.

It was with this in mind that you approached him one afternoon as he was working outside.

“Um, Albedo?” Your voice had taken on a slightly weak tone, as if you didn’t have enough air all of a sudden. It sounded weird, and you kind of wished you didn’t have to hear it. But that was par for the course when dealing something like this, although it didn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, sorry I didn’t notice you there.” Albedo turned around to look at you. You noticed that he’d swapped his regular tools for a paint set and an easel. Glancing at the painting you were struck by how he’d somehow managed to depict Cider Lake so accurately with so few brushstrokes. Never did you think about how the slight ripples that appeared in it could look a bit like circles. It was altogether impressive, and for a moment you forgot what you were doing, or perhaps you’d pushed it out of your mind.

“Was there something you wanted to ask?” Albedo’s voice pulled you out of your artistic musings. Evidently you weren’t going to be able to get out of it now. Come hell or high water, you were going to tell him.

“Well, so… you see, I… I really love you and your work!” The words came tumbling out, dropping like stones in the suddenly charged atmosphere. Almost immediately your nerves were replaced with a distinct sinking sense. “Uhm, rather. I mean –” you tried to begin again, but your voice had suddenly turned quite small, and you found yourself unable to continue.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Albedo’s voice was calm but not unkind, for a moment you felt your face grow warm. Was this actually going to happen? It’d be impressive considering how you’d botched it. “I’m so glad to hear there’s someone else interested in my work. I find that unfortunately a great many people take the world around them for granted. That you do not is commendable.”

You found you weren’t really sure what to say; admittedly the only thing going through your mind at the time was something along the lines of Holy shit. Holy shit I fucking blew it.

Okay, so maybe that was an absolute train wreck. Still, you’d gotten that far, and at this point you felt like it’d be harder to stop and deal with the memory of your botched pseudo-confession than to try again. So you steeled your courage and after a week or so you found yourself ready.

This time you tried for as he arrived at work. Originally you were going to wait for afterwards, but you found the anticipation was tearing you apart, and so decided for before. The anticipation, combined with your slight exhaustion, was nearly unbearable; and a not so small part of you kept telling yourself that this was a terrible idea, but you were too far gone.

“Fancy meeting you here at this time.” There was certainly surprise in Albedo’s voice, but he was smiling, and didn’t seem to mind at all when you stammered out that you wanted to ask him about something. He simply nodded, before unlocking his lab and gesturing for you to go in first.

You loved Albedo’s lab. Various pieces of equipment gleamed in the early morning light, everything properly labeled and put away; a stark contrast to the clutter of Albedo’s desk, filled with papers and the odd sample. The whole room was surprisingly nice in general, floors made of wood, painted over with a type of resin as to keep it from being properly damaged, multiple windows keeping the space surprisingly airy, and the smell of various herbs filling the air, though not so much as to be overpowering. You’d once mentioned to Albedo that the space seemed much to homey to be a proper lab. He’d merely laughed, replying that all homes should be comfortable, no matter how out of the ordinary.

Now you used said comfort and familiarity to ground yourself. This time you’d do it. This time for sure.

“So, um about my question?”

“Yes?” Albedo replied, dropping a few things on his desk. You took a breath, steadying yourself before pushing on ahead.

“Well… you know when I told you I liked you and your work?”

“Of course. I was very happy to hear it.” Albedo’s tone remained opaque, you had no idea how your words were registering.

“Well, you see, I wasn’t being completely clear. What I meant was more… well… well I like you, more than your work.” Seeing the look of confusion on his face you sped up slightly. “Not that I don’t like your work of course! It’s just, it’s just…” you were foundering again, feeling stupidly embarrassed. Becoming more and more frustrated with yourself you shook your head. “What I mean is I like you. Personally. And I like you a lot, more than just as acquaintances or as maybe friends. And I know that this is kind of out of the blue and kind of intrusive, and I’m sure there are a lot of people who like you. But I just wanted to tell you because, well I don’t know, just because.”

You took a deep breath, feeling as if you’d said altogether too many words. Glancing towards Albedo you saw a look of slight shock on his face. A feeling of dread was creeping up on you. Maybe it would’ve been better to say nothing.

“Well, I’m certainly flattered,” Albedo began, all your hopes beginning to sink. Urging yourself not to look away your nevertheless started picking at your fingernails, praying that at least the rejection would be over soon. “though I’m not really sure what you see in me. I’m hardly the ideal sort of person. And there certainly don’t seem to be many people who like me.” Albedo paused then; staring at him you found yourself in slight disbelief, sure that the sudden blush painting his cheeks was a figment of your imagination. “That being said, I cannot say that I don’t reciprocate your feelings. In truth I feel quite foolish now, only for assuming you were uninterested and refusing to try my hand at my own confession.”

“Really?” You didn’t mean for the tone of your voice to come out as so utterly disbelieving, but you couldn’t help yourself. Slightly light-headed you took a step forward, closing the space between you and the suddenly bashful alchemist in front of you. “You like me too?”

“Yes.” Albedo nodded slightly. “And, well, since you like me as well, might we…”

“Might we?”

“Might you do me the honor of becoming my partner?”

You found yourself giggling hysterically, half from the sudden release of nerves half from how ludicrous the situation had turned out to be. Seeing Albedo, looking for the first time uncertain and nervous, you stopped. Your face burst into a smile and you nodded.

“This is quite dramatic. But of course, of course I will.”

“I’m glad. But, might I say something?”

“Yes?”

“I wish you’d told me after work. If only because I’ll never be able to concentrate now.”

Childe

If you had to describe your crush on Childe in one word it would be: idiotic. If you had to describe it in a sentence it’d be; incredibly irritating but also impossible to ignore.

You liked Childe, you liked him a lot. And you couldn’t blame yourself. Childe was the ideal sort of partner; charismatic, athletic, with eyes that could make your heart skip a beat and hair that was asking for you to run your hands through it. Childe was attentive too, full of words that would make anyone swoon a bit, and always ready to listen, agreeing with you on every point and reacting just as you wished.

But that was the problem. Childe was a façade, his personality had been honed to be as sharp and as deadly as a knife. Of course he was understanding and charismatic and a perfect person to hold a conversation with, what else could one expect of a member of the Fatui?

At first you’d desperately tried to ignore your feelings, as if they were somehow embarrassing. You felt vaguely guilty for carrying a flame for Childe, as if you’d managed to fall into a trap you’d seen a ways away. It was an unpleasant feeling to be sure, and you tried to bury it as much as possible, sure it’d go away.

But it didn’t go away, instead your feelings somehow seemed to become more and more stubborn, as if insisting on leading you down the path that many fools who interacted with the Fatui had fallen down before. Childe was at the forefront of your mind.

You noticed when he passed by you, shooting you a blinding smile which always turned into a self-confident sort of smirk, no doubt a result of your inevitable blush. You noticed the way he always seemed to ask after your interests, but never failed to avoid more personal topics that might make you uncomfortable. You noticed how he laughed at your odd half-jokes and the way that his hand brushed your once, causing you to withdraw your own as if burned, stammering out a “nothing” when he asked what was wrong.

But still you refused to tell him. Surely that was what he wanted, another person who could be called upon to give information to the Fatui, or perhaps assist in their dirty work. That wouldn’t be you, that would never be you.

It was snowing on your way home, blocking out the normal sounds and casting the world in an eerie sort of beauty. You wished that it wasn’t so late, cursing yourself for once more forgetting how early the sun set. It didn’t help that it was blindingly cold, and that you were dressed for weather that was at least ten degrees warmer. Hurrying along you were thinking about the meal that you were going to have, unaware of the slick patch of ice lying in front of you.

“Whoah, be careful!” You were yanked out of your thoughts with alarm. Glancing around you quickened your pace, shoes slipping immediately on the ice. However instead of a hard fall on the street you found a pair of arms wrapped under yours. Glancing up you found your face only centimeters away from Childe’s.

“Sorry for causing that.” Childe’s voice was clear as a bell, marking the contrast between the two of you in your mind. Lifting you up he chuckled slightly. “I should’ve realized that a random voice yelling at you would be alarming. Nothing bruised I hope?”

“N-no.” You managed, face burning. You’d never gotten this close to Childe before, not really, and the experience was going straight to your head, as if you’d suddenly gotten very, very drunk. Shaking your head you shifted your glanced towards the ground. “Thank you.” You managed, although your voice was soft enough to be inaudible. You were still trying to process what was happening. One question kept replaying itself in your mind, why had he called out, why had he noticed you?

“I’m glad!” Childe’s voice was a beautiful thing, and you found you couldn’t really think when listening to it. “I was a bit worried I wasn’t in time.”

“Yeah…” you replied. Suddenly the situation dawned on you completely, and you found yourself looking at him with no little suspicion. “Why do you pay so much attention to me?” You blurted out.

“What do you mean?” The expression on Childe’s face was one of perfect confusion, but you could tell that he’d been somehow caught. The tone of his voice was suddenly muddied, as if you were hearing his uncertainty for the first time. This gave you courage to press forward.

“I mean it. Why, why do I always see you? I mean, why do you even pay attention to me? I’m not the kind of person to forget who you are, the fact that you’re a member of the Fatui. I won’t be roped into your schemes, no matter how much I like you.” Shit. That last part was supposed to be only in your head. For a moment you weren’t sure if you hadn’t actually hit your head somehow.

Childe looked frozen, his expression blank, filled with disbelief as well as… bashfulness? If that’s what it was it certainly didn’t fit the normal vision of Childe, still you found yourself somehow compelled by it. This was a part of the real Childe.

“I… didn’t realize you’d notice. Now I feel found out!” He chuckled again, but this time it was distinctly nervous, and he turned to the side slightly. Suddenly he paused, and his eyes snapped towards yours. “Wait, rewind. You like me?”

“…Yeah.” I mean what were you supposed to say?

“I can’t believe this.” The widest grin spread across Childe’s face, and he started bouncing on his toes slightly, it was very cute you could give him that.

“You’re ignoring the rest of my words. Personal feelings or not I still hate the Fatui, and I still don’t know why you’d target me anyways.”

“It’s cause I like you, can’t you tell?” Childe’s words rammed into you, utterly unexpected; seeing you shake your head he once more closed the space between you two. “No, I mean it. I like you. I just can’t believe that you like me back.” He let out another huff of laughter. “I can’t believe I’m this lucky, I’ve never been this lucky. Well, I’m sorry that I came off like I was some Fatui creep, I promise my occupation doesn’t include systematic wooing of civilians.”

“How can I trust you?” You were trying to stand your ground, but in reality you’d already fallen. The situation was too much, and what little resistance you’d managed to hold on in the past weeks was tearing to shreds before your own eyes.

“Because I wouldn’t lie about this.” Childe was suddenly still, his expression deadly serious. “I promise I wouldn’t lie about something like this. The fact is I like you, I like you a lot. I know my job is… unconventional to say the least; I also know that it’s entirely fair if you don’t want to associate with me because of it. But at least trust in my feelings being real, okay?”

What could you do? You nodded, a short “I trust you” falling from your lips. The feeling of happiness was surprisingly sedate, mixed with nerves, yet also somehow filled with contentment. It felt so good, it felt so good just to let go and accept what had happened. You liked Childe, you liked him so much, and he like you too. What more was there to say?

“May I ask you something?” Childe asked, voice slightly husky. Your faces were once more barely apart, and you found that you could stay like this for ages and ages.

“Yes?”

“May I hold your hand?”

You let out a laugh, smiling brightly as you slid your hand into his.

Diluc

You weren’t even sure how this one happened.

It wasn’t that Diluc wasn’t the perfect kind of guy, I mean if he wasn’t you probably wouldn’t be falling madly into one sided love with him. It was just that you two didn’t actually have much of a chance to interact with one another, what with him being the manager and part time bartender of a surprisingly vast winery, and with you being an adventurer and someone not likely to get plastered any time soon.

But the few times that you had interacted with him, usually something to do with guarding the alcohol he was exporting, had been enough to cement an intense infatuation in your mind. There was just something about him; whether it was his voice, his polite yet intense form of speech; his mannerisms, always perfectly on time with what he needed, something which helped you and the Guild immensely; or his general charm, okay look he had great hair; you’d simply gone mad for him.

And mad indeed you were. Though you weren’t about to become a stalker – besides being incredibly creepy on principle since when did that land a person in anything but jail – you’d taken to trying to find out a least a little more about him. Because if you were going to be infatuated with someone it should at least be for more than his organizational skills and the fact his hair would look great in a high ponytail.

And what you’d found out only built upon your crush. The fact that he found the Knights of Favonius lacking, though perhaps a bit unconventional, was ultimately reasonable, or at least justifiable. You liked also that he refrained from drinking, and not just because the idea of ending the night sick in the bathroom was something that haunted you a bit. The more you learned the more you wished that you were in a situation where your feelings could be reciprocated, or at least where you could become friends of some degree. Really you just wanted him to notice your existence, sure he could pick you out in the endless sea of adventurers.

So you planned on introducing yourself at some point, at least as his almost designated wine protector. The only problem was when. Diluc seemed to be busier and busier these days, and when he was around he seemed muted, as if he was carrying something. You couldn’t bring yourself to add to his burden your own baggage. So you said nothing, and as your crush grew so did your dejection.

It was a lovely summer evening and, seeing as your apartment had becoming stifling in the daytime, you’d taken a walk, snaking through the streets of Monstadt before exiting via the back gate, glad to see there were no guards around. Walking down towards the banks of the lake you slipped off your shoes and dipped your feet into the water. Letting out a sigh you sat down and tilted your head back, enjoying the slightly breeze on your face, trying to take your mind off of the past months of agony. The world faded into background noise, and you found yourself in a state of pseudo peace, glad to have it, if only for a moment.

“Watch out!” A familiar voice broke through your reverie. Turning your head towards the source of your disruption you saw a masked figure as well as a cryo abyss mage. The mage, having correctly decided you were going to be easier to deal with than the actively armed person, suddenly appeared right in front of you. Acting on instinct you pushed your hand in front of you, letting electricity bloom from your fingertips.

As the abyss mage lay stunned your felt an arm wrap around your waist, dragging you a ways away. “Wait here.” The person carrying you said, before running back to fight. Finally getting a good look at your savior it was all you could do not to gasp. Despite being the cold hard truth you still found it hard to believe, and for a second you wondered if you hadn’t passed out somewhere and were having a particularly fantastic dream.

Finally the fighting was over, lifting yourself up you jogged over to the man who could only be the Darknight Hero.

“Master Diluc?” The words flew out of your mouth.

“Just Diluc please.” Diluc shook his head. “Forgive me for being a bit rough. Cryo abyss mages and electro users rarely work well together.”

“It’s perfectly fine!” You replied eagerly. “Really, thank you!”

Diluc offered a smile in reply, one that immediately made your heart seize up. Suddenly you remembered who the person in front of you was. Seized at first with something akin to embarrassment you also came to a sudden realization. This might be the only chance.

“Diluc?”

“Yes?”

“Well, can I say something?”

“Of course you may.” Diluc relaxed his stance, leaning slightly forward. Your face was burning, you really weren’t expecting something like this to happen, but it was now or never.

“I realize this will be quite sudden, but I… I like you.” You felt the urge to add on something, some explanation or apology, but unfortunately, or perhaps thankfully, you found you couldn’t say anything more. Running your fingers through your hair you lowered your head slightly, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

“Can I say something?” Diluc’s voice was gentle, and you couldn’t help but look up at him. Though you wouldn’t say his stance had changed very much, he somehow seemed more relaxed, something you weren’t expecting.

“Of course! I realize what I said must really be a shock, I’m really sorry.” You let out a pathetic sort of laugh.

“Don’t be sorry. I realize what I’m about to say must be equally as shocking. But, the fact of the matter is I like you as well.”

“I didn’t realize you knew I existed!” You replied, still not ready to drop your defense mechanisms. Diluc stared at you, a perplexed expression on his face.

“I’m quite surprised by that, I thought that my request for you to be the guild member in charge of the Winery would’ve been an indicator. Forgive me, I didn’t realize that you were unaware.”

“I thought that was a decision by the Guild to make things easier.” You admitted. “Although I guess I just didn’t want to admit that you might be aware of my existence.”

“Why?”

“Because that would’ve been scary! I mean, what if you didn’t like me, not in that way, just… in general.”

“Well I like you a lot.” Diluc’s voice was soft and warm.

“I like you two.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper.

As he escorted you back to your home the two of you spoke about a myriad of things, some important and some quite mundane. You found that having your feeling reciprocated had truly opened up something in you. Suddenly everything seemed so much realer, made manifest by Diluc’s presence. You couldn’t believe it really. What had failed with months of planning had succeeded in a matter of moments.

And all because of an unsuspecting abyss mage.

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yayteaberry · 3 years ago

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*SFW* Babysitting (Bakugou)

Rarely did he ever take a Saturday off from either training or studying, he was determined to stay better than everyone else. But, it had been raining since yesterday and he felt like he deserved a break anyways. From morning to afternoon, he enjoyed doing absolutely nothing, scrolling his social media and avoiding liking any of his friends posts on principle.

Shitty hair still won’t shut up about the selfie he liked so now nobody gets any.

His planned day of nothing is interrupted by a knock at his door, and he’s been pacified by memes to a degree where he doesn’t react violently to the intrusion.

Instead he shoves his phone into his pocket as gets up and opens the door, plain faced until he sees it’s you and that you’re holding something. Well, someone.

“Hey!”, you greet with an unusual level of enthusiasm, “I need you to do a favor for me.”

“A favor?”, he asks while he takes in the fact that you’re holding a baby, dressed in a striped onesie.

“Yeah, I’m kinda busy with stuff and I need someone to keep an eye on this little cutie for a bit!” To emphasize the importance or maybe sway him, you turn the baby around so he can see the chubby face.

“... If you’re asking me to babysit it, then no.”

You click your tongue against your teeth, rolling your eyes. “Well don’t call her by ‘it’, and I really need you to do this for me!”

He puts a hand on the door to signal that he’s about to close it, “Nah. Ask shitty hair or Deku, I think they’d love to drool over your kid.” “It’s my aunts baby!”, you say as you put your foot over the threshold, jostling the baby somewhat, which excitedly babbles as it meets his eyes, “They’re busy too, I tried asking! Believe me, you weren’t my first choice.”

“What do you mean by that?” He speaks with annoyance, opening the door fully as his competitive nature rises.

Internally you give a sigh of relief, externally you place the baby on your hip. “Bakugou, I think we both know that you’re awful with children. But you’re my last option and I have nowhere else to turn.”

“I should’ve been your first choice! I’m a fuckin’ wiz at keeping brats well behaved! Gimme!”

“Ah!”, you step out of range of his attempted grab and put out your pointer finger, “Don’t yell at the baby, don’t be aggressive with the baby, and most of all, don’t yell at the baby.”

In spite of your words you know full well he’ll do nothing of the sort, just wanting to give the appearance so he’ll be on his best behavior. He doesn’t have to know he was actually the only one you wanted to watch her.

After all his surface level bullying you can tell he’s soft on the inside, knowing he’s the least likely to give into a baby's whims while also being gentle enough to avoid making her cry.

“Yeah yeah.”, he grumbles, taking her from you when you extend her towards him, “When are you gonna collect the brat?”

You give a 50/50 gesture, shrugging, “Ah an half hour to two hours, but I’ll be back before three hours for sure! She’s been fed and changed recently but just in case,” A bag is revealed when you pull it from behind your back, taking it off by the strap and setting it inside.

“Diapers and toys, if she’s hungry there’s something for her in there too. Just, be careful about that, she’s sorta young for it.”

He nods at your words, watching her grapple at his shirt, having not once taken his eyes off her.

“Thank you!”, you chirp and give him a kiss on the cheek, knowing that he can’t do anything about it while holding her. That makes him glance up at you with some minor malice, which is reduced severely by the dusting of pink across his nose.

With that you take your leave, confident he’ll do fine.

He shuts the door and sits at the edge of his bed, cradling her in his arms. After a moment he takes a look over to the bag you left, thinking it’d probably be best to fish something out of there for her to do.

While he wasn’t experienced in caring for a baby in any capacity that felt like common sense. Plus, it’d allow him to continue wasting time on his phone.

“You,” he gently places her on the middle of the bed as he stands, “are not taking my Saturday from me with your tiny incapable hands.”

With one hand he grabs the bag off the floor and sets it on the bed beside her, opening it and digging through its contents. You were right, the thing is loaded with diapers and many different plastic objects.

Keys, babies love keys.

That toy seems the best choice, taking that and a blanket out before putting the bag on the floor nearby, holding the baby like a barrel under his arm while he flattens the blanket, then placing her on her belly.

He dangles the keys in front of her, watching as her eyes widen as she takes a horribly aimed swipe towards them. With a laugh tinged snort he lets her have them, sitting with his back against the bed and taking his phone out, resuming his leisure hobby.

A minute passes before he peeks over at her to make sure she’s still there, idly chewing on an orange key. It reminds him of something a puppy would do, up until she shoves it in way too far.

He drops his phone and yanks the keys away with concern she’ll vomit, not expecting her to look so upset over it. Briefly she contentedly waits for them to be returned, but when it becomes apparent they aren’t, she scowls.

“No,” he preemptively says, putting the keys down at his other side to keep them away, “you did something fucking stupid, so now they’re off limits. Don’t get all upset over it.”

She huffs and slams a hand down a few times, making a ‘gah’ with very demanding intent.

“I said no. Let me find something else then, calm down.”, he says as he reaches over to grab something random out of the bag, finding a plush red dinosaur. “See? Fun. Chew on this.”

He sets it down in front of her, and she immediately pushes it over, repeating herself. If nothing he gives her credit for having a strange amount of object permanence.

“I. Said. No. The fuck do you want me to do? You’re the one who can’t handle having the damn thing!” With a curt ‘no’ as a final statement, he leans over her to shove the keys back into the bag.

This turns out to be a huge mistake.

In a universally understood way, her face screws up as she starts taking in heavy breaths, which makes his eyebrows raise.

“Don’t. No crying.” his tone is as assertive as he can get it, shaking his head as if to cement it. Her tiny face turns red, sniffling once before fat tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

With no idea what to do in this situation, he starts rummaging through the bag for a solution, diapers spilling out as he digs for a similar toy if there even is one. He cringes as she really starts crying, caving and getting the keys back out, giving them to her. “See? See??”

She either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, bawling in the way only babies do, arms giving out as she lays down.

His instincts on consoling anyone are terrible and usually not to be followed but he acts without thinking, picking her up and setting her in his lap, bouncing his leg as he pets her back, softly shushing her, ignoring the part of him that does in fact wish to yell at the baby.

Her tiny body trembles, pawing at his shirt as she rubs her tear stained face into it. Continuing to follow his instincts he lifts her up, both arms cradling her as her head rests against his shoulder. She does eventually calm, relaxing as quiet hiccuping replaces her sobs, breathing regulating.

She's effectively soothed, he on the other hand is completely shaken up.

Jesus, why did that scare him so much? He’d heard babies cry before and always was irritated by it, but this time there was something so different about it. Even now his heart is still racing, mouth dry as he stares forward into the wall with a mixture of worry and gratefulness.

Once she’s relaxed, he picks up the previously discarded dinosaur, placing it in his lap next to her. Thankfully, she seems to have forgotten about the keys, happy to latch onto the plushy.

He takes his phone back out with the intent to resume his earlier scrolling, but he can’t entirely take his eyes off her. He’s more interested in watching her reactions than he’d ever admit.

In some ways she reminds him of you, mainly the eye color and the way her cheeks pinch up when she smiles.

You seem the motherly type to him so he assumes you’re leagues better at this than he is, but you’ve never mentioned having to babysit her before.

In fact you’ve never mentioned her before at all.

Maybe you enjoyed doing it but kept quiet so you didn’t have anyone intruding or asking to see her, babies can feel stranger danger so that made sense, it’d probably be overwhelming. She doesn’t hate him though, maybe you knew that she wouldn’t?

Despite the panic she’s sent him through he really wouldn’t mind watching after her again. It'll probably be easier with you here, though he isn’t sure what he’d do if you were, he’d just be sitting around while you did everything.

God, she is really goddamned adorable. He smirks as he takes a second to allow himself to outwardly express something positive, watching her slap her tiny hand against the toy.

Usually the idea of having a baby is the worst one anyone can have, but right now he isn’t all that opposed to it. Not that it looks simple, more that it looks to be worth it.

He knows he’d make super cute babies, based on what he looks like and has always looked like the kid would outshine any other snot maker.

While he didn’t know what you looked like as a baby he just assumed you did too, briefly considering what a baby would look like if it came from you and him.

He’s got his mother's blonde hair despite his father's brunette coloring so that’s a dominant trait, possibly overriding your own but who can know, it’d more likely have more of your features.

Out of anything he’d want a little girl just like this one, though he’d be happy with anything as long as it's yours. Your features have always been something he likes, face as well as body, you’re built well in every aspect he tends to care about.

That, and your winning personality, even he can see that it’s a very pleasant contrast to his own. A kid with a mixture of both would be undoubtedly unstoppable, making him proud left and right.

Suddenly the thought bubble pops as reality rises to the surface.

You’re not his and he doesn’t like you anyways, this doesn’t bear so much thinking since it’ll never happen.

A heat takes to his cheeks as he tries to move on and pretend he wasn’t having a domestic fantasy involving you, mostly pretending he hadn’t had any fantasies about you.

It was something that’d creep into his mind sometimes.

Kirishima and Deku tended to have some softer traits alongside their bolder ones but it just wasn’t the same coming from either of them.

You had a certain tenacity to you, it was totally within your options to let some rich older man take care of you but you wanted more for yourself, you wanted to be a hero.

It made you strong, and you were strong because you worked for it constantly. As thick as your innocence tended to be, he was fairly confident you could knock him unconscious if it strikes you as the right choice.

He shook his head and made an effort to clear out all his emotions, directing his attention back towards the baby to ground himself.

At some point during his daydreaming she’d knocked out cold, the dinosaur laying on the floor beside him, propped up against his chest, quietly snoozing while drooling a slight amount. Even if he wanted too he couldn’t be grossed out, it was way too cute of a sight for him to get mad.

Looking at her makes him feel tired, so he decides that taking a nap wouldn’t be a terrible idea. Careful to avoid waking her, he shifts around to get comfortable, hooking an arm around her so she doesn’t teeter backwards while he’s moving.

He thinks about whether he should turn her over and lay her on the blanket, unsure of what the proper protocol is.

His neck is gonna get super fucked up if he stays sat like this, so he very slowly gets up and lays on his bed, keeping her held to his chest until he’s flat enough to let gravity do the work. For a moment he returns to thinking about laying her on a flat surface but he lets her stay as she is, being a light sleeper means he’ll be able to deal with any problems if there are any.

After thanking Aizawa for the extra sparring lesson, you quickly get yourself showered and changed.

It’s been about two hours since you left her with Bakugou and you were getting increasingly worried he was reaching his limit.

Honestly you didn’t expect to be gone this long, but you were glad you gave him the estimate because it meant he’d have less reasons to be upset with you.

You prepare yourself for him to yell at you for leaving him alone with a demon for so long, even if she’s rarely a problem you do suspect he’ll be dramatic.

Still, it was a godsend that he said yes to begin with, you were going to make sure to tell him that.

When you get to his room you don’t bother with knocking, opening it to let yourself in without hesitation.

You were going to say something, but you forget the instant you lay eyes on the scene in front of you.

Practically swooning, you place a hand over your mouth to prevent making any noise, getting your phone out to document perhaps the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s laying on his bed, one arm over her and one over his eyes to block out the light, her tiny hands secured around the collar of his shirt, both of them peacefully asleep.

Not intending it to be blackmail but being aware it would probably become that, you take pictures from several different angles, wanting nothing more than to show everyone.

Though, for his own sake, you don’t actually send them anywhere near the class.

This doesn’t mean you don’t send them all to his mother, you do.

It does pain you to know you’ll have to hold off on showing people lest the information come back to him, but you do make it your phones home screen anyways.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou baby shenanigans #fluff #mha fluff #SFW #gender neutral reader #gn reader #bakugou katuski x reader #a03 fic

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braindeadmaggot · 3 years ago

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Hiya! For the OP ask: #3. Favorite romantic ship with Shanks? And Vivi? Hawkins too? #4. Favorite platonic ship with Usopp? And Robin?

I will be answering both of these from my pov as a writer. As a reader, I will read anything and will give you a 10 star rating no matter the pairing. Always. I found a random ZoroxBuggy knife kink PWP years ago (that is lost forever because I can't remember the name) and it was awesome. I recommend it.

3. Favorite romantic ship with Shanks? And Vivi? Hawkins too? I like to believe that Shanks had a preteen, puppy love romance with Buggy. While Buggy may have always had feelings for Shanks, he never acted on it until they were 13 and had their first pints of ale, got drunk and Shanks noticed how Buggy always looks at him with dreamy eyes. Since then Shanks instigated all their interactions and urged Buggy to open up and explore each other more. When the crew disbanded Shanks grew up and met new people, leaving Buggy behind to pine for him; begrudgingly so. It's one of the reasons why Buggy's so pissed off at Shanks now as adults. Of course Buggy got over it and no longer has feels for Shanks, not in the last decade or so, but getting over him was NOT easy especially when it wasn't even in his agenda to get under him, that was all Shanks' doing.

Shanks is now married to Makino and they have a baby boy together. I haven't seen Film Red yet, as it has not yet been released to the public, but whoever the fuck Uta is, she is not canon and I will be viewing this film as a very expensive fanfiction. Just like HP and the cursed child. She ain't real.

With Vivi, I do enjoy reading her shipped with Ace (there's this one fic I read ages ago that I can't find again, I thought it was Water Sector but alas I was wrong) but in my own writing Ace is with Smoker and only Smoker. Vivi: I don't mind her with Koza, I think she might actually marry him one day in canonverse... maybe. I like the idea of her with Nami, just not sure if i can write that. I mean literally I can, but I don't know if I can write it well. My heart's not in it just yet. I noticed when color coding names, Vivi's partners are all orange. It's fate

Hawkins... This is hard. When HAK (Hawkins/Apoo/Kid) alliance first came up, I immediately shipped him with Apoo. Why? Because rule 34 that's why. Like, I had it aaaall planned out. The meet cute, the debacles, the inconveniences, the second meet cute, all of it. It was like a Hallmark movie where Hawkins was a 30+ year old head strong business person that moved to a small town on a whim in the milk of autumn and met an eccentric local that pissed him off every which way and what, but they had exactly one, count it, ONE thing in common and now they're madly in love. Hawkins and Apoo..... Why did I do this? I don't even remember what it was anymore!! Wano arc came and *spoilers* the bitches were bitches and now I hate them Fuck their love, they can die alone.

That being said, ship Hawkins with his black cat mink crew member Faust because fuck it I don't care anymore. Joey Jordison looking bastard can go to hell (this makes me so sad because I fucking love Joey Jordison so fucking much. RIP #1)

4. Favorite platonic ship with Usopp? And Robin? Usopp is technically in a platonic relationship with everyone accept Kaya. But if we want to get into the could-have-been relationships, first off is Nami. I like to think she fell in love with the nerd some time after Little Garden or Drum but he shot her down and she was hurt for a while but got over it. I can kind of see her in a Shakky/Rayleigh type marriage with Luffy, but that's more like a "I'm your wife so you better listen to me" kinda thing because someone needs to be able to legally control the rubber idiot and also she gets 50% of everything he has so it's also an investment. But this isn't about Nami!!

Second chb is with Sanji. I love seeing SanUso art and they look so great together. In a perfect world I think SanUso could definitely be a strong and healthy thing, but this is One Piece and not a single thing is even remotely healthy about anything.

Third (and fourth) chb is if Usopp had stayed behind on Water 7. Franky joined Luffy and left, leaving Usopp all alone with no one on a completely new island. No friends, no Merry; nothing. He probably would have started working for Iceburg and became Paulie's apprentice. His ship designs would be highly sought for and he more than likely would have invented a lot of stuff of the yagara bulls and he also probably would have a Sogeking statue somewhere like how the dwarves have a Noland bust in Tontatta Kingdom. The entire island would be his friends but the two people that would love him the most, and he would love the most would be Kiwi and Mozu. They're just a couple of years older than him (Kiwi was 20, Mozu 19 when they met SHP), they're Franky's backup dancers/little sisters, they know the ins and outs of the underworld and black market, AND they look like Banchina. HIS MOTHER. He would have followed them around like a lost puppy calling them "Big Sisses Big Sisses". They don't know why he looks that them weird sometimes, why he always makes sure they're comfortable and makes them tea, like, ALWAYS, all the time. TEA. He even has extra blankets out in case they get cold because one, his mom, and two, they wear bikinis everywhere. They might get cold. He'd subconsciously revert back to his 10 year old self talking care of his sickly mom, K&M would more than likely get fed up because A) they're older than him and B) not in their own house you treat them like little kids. It would be very awkward but in the end I think Franky Family would have turned into Usopp Pirates 2.0.

Robin's got a major broship with Zoro.

#yeah #Robin's was really short #thanks for the ask #anon #i have very many opinions about Usopp #I have very many thoughts hidden in my tags about him and his childhood #Usopp is my favorite straw hat and I wish him so much happiness #I think he would have loved it on Water 7 but I wouldn't have accomplished his dreams #not unless he built his own his and set sail with a new crew as captain #Captain Usopp #Go D Usopp #ShanksxBuggy #aka #Shuggy #is one of my favorite ships #I love it so much because it hurts #it's all puppy love and first times and miscommunication and unintentional backstabbing #mostly shanks not reading the mood and buggy not being completely open about his feelings #they're teenagers in love what do you expect #their romance ends so badly buggy is never the same afterwards #shanks can suck a fucking egg. he just goes on with his life like nothing #gets married and has a kid. right in the same fucking ocean where his ex is hiding out in #really shanks? fucking really? Buggy is RIGHT FUCKING THERE #so many opinions on this #BrainDeadAsks #BrainDeadAnswers

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horansqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Stuck With You - Chapter 28

Chapter 28: She Looks So Perfect

🡪chapter 1 🡪chapter 2 🡪chapter 3 🡪chapter 4 🡪chapter 5 🡪chapter 6 🡪chapter 7 🡪chapter 8 🡪chapter 9 🡪chapter 10 🡪chapter 11 🡪chapter 12 🡪chapter 13 🡪chapter 14 🡪chapter 15 🡪chapter 16 🡪chapter 17 🡪chapter 18 🡪chapter 19 🡪chapter 20 🡪chapter 21 🡪chapter 22 🡪chapter 23 🡪chapter 24 🡪chapter 25 🡪chapter 26 🡪chapter 27

College Enemies To Lovers AU

characters // masterlist // instagrams // mood board

You look so perfect standing there In my American Apparel underwear And I know now, that I'm so down Your lipstick stain is a work of art I got your name tattooed in an arrow heart And I know now, that I'm so down

You look so perfect standing there In my American Apparel underwear And I know now, that I'm so down I made a mixtape straight out of '94 I've got your ripped skinny jeans lying on the floor And I know now, that I'm so down

click here to be on the update list

NIALL

For the very first time, Devon was already up when I woke up the next morning. I ran my hand on the cold sheet and my eyes fluttered open when I realized she was not there anymore. I groaned and turned around in bed, pressing my face against the pillow for a few seconds, and my heart jumped in my chest when her unique scent invaded my nose. I wished it was possible to bottle up an odor and I inhaled deeply before forcing myself to get up. I stopped by the bathroom but when I opened the door again, I just looked at myself in the mirror, trying to do something with my messy hair. I heard a very low giggle and when I turned my head, I noticed Devon taking a picture of me. I raised my eyebrows, a bit surprised, and she pressed her lips together.

"I had time to take three before you noticed me."

"I only noticed because of your laugh." I admitted, taking a step closer as my lips curled more.

She snapped an other picture with her camera and I chuckled, shaking my head slightly.

"I think my caption will be, 'he just woke up like that'." she laughed, tilting her head. "Or perhaps, 'he's modeling only for me this morning'."

Her last suggestion made my heart jump in my chest and she took a step back as I took an other in her direction. Her words suggested something was happening between us, it would make anyone who would read it know we had something going on, and although I shouldn't, I really liked it.

"It could be something like, 'he's about to make me cum'." I proposed with a smirk. "What do you say?"

This time, she laughed and licked her lips, raising her eyebrows. "That would be a lie."

"Why? You don't think I can make you cum?"

Her facial expression changed into something more serious with a hint of a tease, and fuck, I loved it. "No, I know you can." she explained in a low voice as her butt hit the side of the couch before she sat on the arm. "But we're not doing anything now. I'm busy snapping pictures of a famous model and a future famous musician."

She brought her camera up and took an other photo of me. I pushed her camera gently on the side and bent down to kiss her lips as a sensation of warmth invaded my whole body.

"So you're going to post pictures of me in only my boxers on instagram?" I asked with a cheeky smile, kissing her mouth a few times. "People are gonna talk."

"They're gonna talk about how good you look, probably." she chuckled, shaking her head slightly and slowly, making her nose rub against mine. "If they talk about anything else, I really don't care. I was never the type to care about gossips or rumors, and a few weeks ago, I decided I was not the type to care about what people thought about me anymore."

"Same here." I admitted in a whisper. "You can post any picture of me you want, with any caption you want."

She glanced down at my boxers as I moved closer, pressing my half-hard cock between her legs. When she looked up at me, she was sending me an amused smile and fuck, I liked it. I wanted to see that smile every single day of my life.

"I'd love to take a nude of you." she let out with a chuckle, making me raise my eyebrows in a curious way.

"Have you ever taken that kind of pictures?"

"Not with that camera, no." she admitted with a smirk. "Took a few special selfies with my phone, who hasn't?"

"That's the difference between art and porn, you know that, right?" I joked, making her laugh. "Did you ever take pictures of you and someone else having sex?"

Her smile faltered a bit but her lips curled again on the right. "You're a pervert, you know that?"

"Oh yea, and you're a prude perhaps? A saint. A virgin-"

Quickly, she moved up a bit to crush her mouth against mine. I kissed her back but ended up laughing against her lips. "So, did you?"

She remained close to me, her eyes running on my face, and pressed her lips. I could feel how embarrassed she was but I wasn't sure if it was because she had, in fact, taken those kind of pictures, or just because of the thoughts running in her head.

"It's not easy to hold a camera and ride a dick at the same time."

"Not easy, but not impossible." I pointed out, amused by the simple fact that she was considering it. "I can take pictures of you choking on my cock instead."

This time, she laughed and shook her head, her eyes never leaving mine. I loved the smile on her face and I loved being the cause of it. I hadn't felt that good with a girl in a long time. It was not just a sex thing, or an unrequited story.. What I felt for Devon, she seemed to feel for me too, whatever it was, and having her so close to me, happy and soft, made me realize that perhaps, I didn't really know what love was. Maybe she didn't know either. Maybe what me and her went through with our exes was not what love should be like, or what a relationship really was. I let that possibility sink in and my lips curled slowly.

"No?" I asked a bit lower, raising my eyebrows.

"I don't know." she whispered, her lips still parted as she tilted her head. "Make me."

"You may regret those words, you know."

She licked her lips and tilted her chin more as she sent me a daring look. It made me want to bury my cock deep inside her but I pushed the thought back in my mind again, trying to focus on the moment.

"Listen carefully, Niall Horan." she let out before moving slightly closer to me. "Make. Me."

My eyes roamed quickly on her face and her small satisfied smile made my dick twitch against her inner thighs. I remembered what it felt when she sucked on my tongue and I just knew it would feel incredible on my cock. I waited half a minute and when she moved back slightly, I gripped her hair and tilted her head a bit more. I didn't expect the whimper that escaped her lips and pressed myself more on her left thigh as my dick swelled again. I took a small step back, bringing her with me, and I didn't even have to ask : she fell on her knees in front of me like I wanted her to.

"Touch me."

She didn't wait, she just ran both her hands over my boxers, grabbing my cock and running her hand on it while the other reached for my balls. I groaned low, still holding her by the hair, and I immediately knew It would be one of the shortest blowjobs I ever had. Her hands were warm for once and I focused on how they felt before looking down at her. I saw her move closer but held her tighter to stop her.

"Pull my boxers down." I ordered in a breath. It took her a second to do it and I noticed her lips parting when her eyes met my dick. She tilted her head and ran her lips on the side before I grabbed it in my hand and moved it up. "Start here."

She bent down enough to run her tongue on my balls slowly and when she took one in her mouth to suck on it, I let out a groan. I had no idea how she did it, but I felt my cock throb in my hand and she had barely touched it. I pulled on her hair to move her head back and stared down at her, feeling extremely horny, probably hornier than I had in a very long time.

"Stick your tongue out, let me use it." I let out firmly. "And look at me."

She did exactly what I asked and when her eyes met mine, I swallowed a curse word. I loved how she submitted to all my whims and it gave me a bunch of ideas that I wanted to try with her. Slowly, I ran the tip of my cock on her tongue, wetting it, and moved the length on it too. I moved back a bit, stroking myself slowly with her spit, and she let out a low whimper when I tapped the tip of my cock on her tongue.

"Alright darling, show me you're a good little whore, yea?" I murmured. "Suck it good, like it's the last thing you'll do."

When she wrapped her lips around my tip and started sucking like her life depended on it, I let my head fall back on my shoulders and my eyes rolled back in my head before they closed. I couldn't remember the last time I had a blowjob let alone that kind of blowjob. She used her hands to stroke me and let her tongue slip under my tip, making me groan. I pushed her head slightly closer as my hips jerked and my dick slid on her tongue to go deeper in her mouth.

"Fuck, you're good at this." I groaned low again, letting go of her hair to hold her head with both hands. "Just keep your mouth open."

Looking at her squirming a bit, sitting on her legs with her mouth wide open made my heart jump in my chest and I pushed my cock in her mouth until she gagged. I held her head and let out a curse word before moving back and she coughed a few times but quickly opened her mouth again.

"Your mouth is amazing." I whispered, shaking my head. "I can't stop thinking about fucking it."

My words made her open her lips wider and I couldn't wait anymore. I started fucking her mouth slowly at first but harder with every thrust. I came close to an orgasm every time she choked on it as it hit the back of her throat and after a few minutes, I pulled out completely. I bent down to wipe the spit from her chin as she panted, her lips open, and sent her a smirk while holding my throbbing cock with my free hand.

"You want my cum?" She nodded so fast it actually made me chuckle and I licked my lips, standing back up. "Beg me."

"Mm, please Niall, I really want to taste you." she confessed in a very low tone, nibbling gently on her bottom lip. "I've been thinking about it way too much. Please..."

I was a bit surprised by how needy she seemed but when she stuck her tongue out again, I rubbed and tapped my cock on it, pushing the rest of my thoughts away. I felt an orgasm coming and jerked off quicker, feeling the tip of my dick rub on her wet tongue at the same time until I moaned louder than intended and let out a few curse words.

An ecstatic feeling invaded me and I forced myself to keep my eyes open only to see my cum spurt on her tongue and cheeks. The sight was amazing and I held my breath when she put her mouth around my cock again, sucking harder as I finished cumming in her mouth.

"Jesus Christ." I whispered, holding her hair again, watching her swallow.

I felt my knees wobble a bit and pulled my boxers up quickly, my heart still racing. I heard her light laugh as I let myself fall on the couch and breathed in deeply. She got closer to me on her knees and licked her lips, putting her hands on my thighs and tilting her head.

"I'm still horny, do you mind if I touch myself?"

My eyes roamed on her and I slowly shook my head. "Fuck no babe, go ahead."

She smiled more and quickly straddled me. I didn't expect that but she just slipped her hand in her pants as I stared at her a bit in shock. I was still in my post orgasm feeling but I knew the sight would drive me insane. I knew immediately when her fingers reached her pussy because her smile fell and her lips parted. Instead to rub herself, she started moving her hips against her fingers (or so I guessed) and I was suddenly disappointed that I couldn't see her drip on her own hand.

"Fuck, don't stop." I breathed out, my eyes traveling from her face, down her arm and until her pants, watching her hand disappear in them. "Bet sucking my cock made you soak yourself."

"Mm fuck." she murmured, closing her eyes.

I pulled down on her sweatpants a bit just to see her grinding her hips on her fingers and groaned low at the sight.

"You need to cum petal, or you're gonna make me hard again."

She opened her eyes again and with her free hand, she moved her shirt up over her breasts before bending down a bit. Without thinking, I stuck my tongue out to reach one of her nipples and ended up with one of her tits in my mouth. I held her with my hands on her thighs and she started going faster and whimpering louder. She started shaking over me and my hand reach for her other breasts, squeezing it tight as she came and when she came down from her high, she sat on my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck to kiss me. She didn't pull her shirt back down and I could feel her nipples rub against my chest, making me groan in her mouth.

"I'm sorry." she said, pressing her lips together. "It should have been only about you, but I was so horny."

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows and letting out a chuckle. "That was hot, I totally wanted to see that!"

She pulled away and bit her bottom lip as a smile crept on her lips. Slowly, she pulled her shirt back and I watched her breasts until they disappeared under the fabric.

"Come back closer, pet." I proposed in a soft tone with a small head movement, making her smile.

She did as I asked and kissed me again as I wrapped my arms around her chest, pulling her closer to me. I don't know how long we kissed but I didn't want it to stop and when she pulled away, she licked her lips and I did the same to taste her a bit more.

"What do you want to do, today?" I asked, a happy smile gracing my lips.

I didn't know how she did that but whenever she was with me, I was happy. I could blame it on the orgasm I got a few minutes before but I knew it was more than that, I knew that her simple presence made me want to sing more, write more songs, make more jokes... Is that what it feels like to be with the right person? Wanting to actually be a better person? For them but also for yourself?

"Maybe we could go for a walk? We've been locked here for a while. Fresh air wouldn't be bad."

I sent her a small but fond smile and nodded. "Okay, good idea."

She got up and I watched her disappear in the hall before getting up too. I found clothes and dressed up quickly as I decided we would get some food before coming back inside. When I reached for the front door, she was there, typing and smiling at her phone. I felt a wave of jealousy rush inside me at the thought that she was texting her ex boyfriend but I swallowed it and tried to calm the beatings of my heart.

"What are you doing?" I asked cautiously, pushing my hands in the pockets of my pants as they formed fists.

"Oh." she looked up and then back at her phone, smiling more. "Adding the pictures of you on instagram."

She moved her phone up and I blinked a few times before realizing I was seeing a picture of myself, staring in the mirror and playing with my hair. I was surprised by how good the picture was and when I looked up, she raised her eyebrows.

"You like it?" she wondered, genuinely interested. "There's a few more."

She handed me her phone and I grabbed it from her hand gently, swiping to look at the other pictures she took. They seemed professional but I was not really surprised: I already knew she was an amazing artist and I was pretty sure I had made a comment about the photos she took and put on instagram in the first few days after we met.

Two of the other pictures she had posted had been taken without me knowing and I had no idea how she made me look so vulnerable. The truth was, It was exactly how I felt when I was around her, but I didn't even mind. In fact, I loved it, and I was just waiting for the day that she'd let herself be completely vulnerable in front of me, too. I couldn't lie and say she didn't exposed herself that way sometimes, or that she didn't seem unguarded a few times, but to be completely vulnerable in front of someone was a big proof of trust, and it hit me. I trusted her. I trusted her with my feelings, I trusted her with my body, I trusted her with my soul, and even with my mind. And she probably didn't even see it yet.

I looked up and swallowed hard as she smiled more at me. I wanted to tell her so many things but I didn't know how to word things properly. It had always been my problem and I knew it. I blinked a few times and looked back at her phone, staring some more at a smiling picture of me, probably the last one she had taken when I was coming closer to her, but it's only when I saw the actual caption that I felt my heart twist and jump in my chest so hard that I had to swallow again.

'I'm so lucky to have him'

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan story #niall horan writing #niall horan au #niall horan college au #niall horan uni au #niall horan enemies to lovers #my fanfics #swy

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Inukag Royalty AU

“I see that,” the King chuckled, gathering the child into his arms. He looked at Kagome. “And who have you brought Rin?”

While Rin was all happy smiles, Kagome immediately went on edge. Of all the people to see first, the King himself! She was not prepared whatsoever to meet the Inutaisho, but she bit down and hid her rising anxiety, pulling on all those years of putting on a false expression to get through important meetings. All she had to do was get through this encounter. Bring the girl home safely, go through some pleasantries, and be on her way.

“She found me in the market when I got lost. Can we keep her papa?”

Kagome’s heart stopped. ‘Wait what?!’ Did Rin just say what she thought she’d said?!

Again, the male laughed. “Well, we’ll have to see.”

“Papa, she can be my new attendant. Please! She’s so much nicer than the other one.”

“Oh?” The man turned back to Kagome. “Thank you for assisting my granddaughter, miss?”

Thinking quickly. “Kagome Tanaka,” she bowed. “And the pleasure was mine. The Princess was a joy to talk to.”

“Miss Tanaka, are you from around here?”

“I’m from a small village on the outskirts of the kingdom.”

“Her mom and dad are dead like mine, so she needs a new job.” Rin chimed in.

“Is that true?” He questioned.

“Yes. It’s why I came to the city thinking I’d have a better chance to find one. I actually just arrived this morning when I came across the Princess.”

“I see. Then tell me do you have any qualifications to be a Lady in Waiting?”

“I believe so your majesty. My mother schooled me in all the main subjects. Language, arts, history, literature, and such, so I’d hoped to find a tutoring position with a noble family here.”

“How interesting.” The King put Rin down. “For such a coincidence.”

Startled, Kagome bowed low again. “I swear it was never intended your majesty.” She didn’t want the king to think she’d targeted Rin for a nefarious reason. “My only intentions were to make sure she got home safely.”

He waved his hand with a chuckle. “I believe you. Our Rin here is very determined and she must have taken a genuine liking to you. But the decision is up to her father, my son to make.” The King then turned to his granddaughter. “Why don’t I wait here with miss Tanaka, and you go and fetch your father?”

“Okay!” Rin skipped merrily away on her mission. “I’ll be back quick!”

“While we wait, tell me more about yourself miss Tanaka. For starters, it is unusual for a commoner to be educated.”

“Oh… as a young girl my mother was a nanny for a noble house and as her ward was tutored, she herself learned things. She told me she loved learning so much that she took every opportunity she could to read and spent her off times in that family’s library. After marriage and having me, she took it upon herself to make sure I was educated because she wanted me to have a better life.”

“She sounds like a good mother.”

“I miss her dearly and only hope that one day I’ll be as good a mother as she was.”

“Your instincts have already shown through when you saw a lost child and decided to help her.”

Kagome blushed. “Thank you, your majesty for your kind words.”

They chatted for only a couple more minutes by the time Rin came back holding the hand of a tall, very statuesque male. Her father looked a lot like the King except his hair was free flowing and he had a crescent moon on his forehead. Another glaring difference was in demeanor. While the King was very pleasant from the get-go, Rin’s father wore an irritated expression. The child had mentioned that he scared people, and now Kagome could see why.

“That’s her, papa!” Rin pointed at Kagome. “She’s the one I want to be my attendant.”

“Miss Tanaka,” the King gestured, “this is my son Prince Sesshomaru.”

Kagome bowed to the Prince. “It’s nice to meet you, your highness.”

The Prince looked down, fixing Kagome in a stare as he spoke. “My daughter tells me you found her lost in the market?”

“Yes, your royal highness.”

“I’ve spoken with Miss Tanaka, and she appears to have all of the qualifications needed for the position.” The King tells his son. “I would approve, but the decision is yours.”

“Please, daddy!” Rin pulled on her father’s hand. “She’s really, really nice! I really like her!”

The Prince barely showed any reaction to his child’s whims, so it was hard to discern what he was thinking. Kagome just continued to stand there silently and demure as possible while he stared straight at her. It was nerve wracking!

Finally, the man spoke. “Very well. The royal steward will prepare a room for you.” He then gave a slight nod to his father and left the room leaving his child practically bouncing with excitement.

The moment Sesshomaru turned his back, Kagome let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in. His intensity was a force all its own and she had no idea how Rin could be so mellow to it. Yet the child was completely oblivious and seemed to have the man wrapped around her fingers. He didn’t even question anything.

The king chuckled. “Rin, why don’t you show Ms. Tanaka around while things are taken care of.”

“Okay papa!” Rin grabbed Kagome’s hand and started pulling her away. “I’ll show you all the cool parts in the palace! Then we can hang out in my room.”

“It was nice to meet you, your majesty.” Kagome tried and failed to bow properly while being yanked away to the chuckling amusement of the King.

They spent much of the afternoon walking around the palace, inside and out with Rin playing the excitable tour guide introducing Kagome to everyone. It was a typical sized palace from what she could see, though the styling is what differed from her own. Several private rooms and guest rooms, administrative type rooms, entertaining rooms, etc. But the one she knew instantly she’d be spending a considerable time in would be the library. Oh, the texts that room held were simply amazing! So many ancient documents dating back hundreds or perhaps thousands of years! It’ll be wonderful to take a book and read it in the lovely garden on a nice sunny day.

As the afternoon sun dipped closer to the horizon, the royal steward found the pair in Rin’s room chatting quietly about a storybook they’d found in the library. Myouga was the older man’s name and he explained to Kagome her duties under the official role of the Lady in Waiting to the Princess. She was the child’s tutor in all areas of education and would accompany the girl any time she left the castle grounds or as needed by the Princess. All of her food, shelter, and personal needs including attire would be furnished by the kingdom along with a small stipend. The same bedchamber maids that attended to Princess Rin’s laundry and cleaning would also take care of hers.

“The former attendants room has been prepared for you Miss. Tanaka. It is the next room over. Your clothes for dinner has already been laid out on your vanity by the bedchamber maid. I trust we chose the correct size for you. Tomorrow, I shall have one of the royal guards take you to the royal seamstress to set you up properly.”

“Thank you, Mr. Myouga. I understand. I just have one question. Before meeting Rin in the marketplace, I’d boarded my horse and meager belongings at the Umagoya. I’d like to retrieve them. My horse is very precious to me.”

“Certainly. See the palace stable hand and he’ll accompany you to retrieve your horse to take it back to the stables.”

Once the man left them alone, they followed his instructions of taking the stable hand into town with them to hand off the horse. It would have been nice if she could spend more time with the stead to get him adjusted, but they needed to get ready for dinner. So, Kagome promised Rin they’d visit Buyo in the stables the next day. When they arrived back at their rooms, two bedchamber maids were waiting, one for each other them.

Kagome patted the hand she held of Rin’s. “I’ll fetch you once I’ve changed, okay?”

“Yup!” Rin hugged Kagome before skipping towards her room.

The white dress with red, orange, and pink accents presented to Kagome was a bit more extravagant than she’d expected to be given to a simple attendant. It was elegant and form fitting from the bust down to the floor, with a slit running down the side of the skirt from mid-thigh to allow for easier movement. The top half was full sleeved, mid-collared, with knotted button closures running down the front until it reached mid-chest. She’d noticed this outfit resembled the same style worn by other nobles and royals in the palace, but not the commoners who wore much simpler outfits. And while not mentioned yet, the colors were also a theme associated with the royal family. It was very different from what people wore back home in her kingdom, but the style was beautiful to Kagome. Aside from the dress, the bedchamber also re-did her hair, adding accessories befitting the dress as well as makeup. Kagome was glad to see it was done with a natural tone and not too gaudy. She never did like being made up to look like a doll. It was a bit odd to her that she’d be dining with the royal family, but again she assumed it was because of Rin’s age and excitable nature. The child was young and having her attendant present necessary so the adults could go about their business. It was nice though, that they included the child. Kagome chuckled inwardly as she thought about the two royal members she’d met so far. The Prince did not seem to even care about a child being around yet must have a heart to have adopted Rin in the first place.

The bedchamber provided information on other dynamics of the royal household so that she wouldn’t ask the wrong questions. According to the woman, the Inutaisho had two queens. The primary Queen was Prince Sesshomaru’s mother through an arranged marriage. It was a loveless marriage, so once she’d fulfilled her obligation of providing a son, she was allowed to live away in her own royal villa in the countryside. It was a few years later when the Inutaisho met a human Princess in another kingdom, fell in love, and took her as a second Queen. She too bore a son, half yokai, half human named Prince Inuyasha. Prince Sesshomaru was married but he and Princess Kagura had yet to produce an offspring of their own. Rin, again according to the woman was an orphaned daughter of a highly respected human general in the army who despite his ornery disposition really gravitated to the Prince. That affection grew on the Prince until he’d decided to simply adopt the child as his own. It was a really nice story and showed maybe first impressions are not always accurate.

“Good evening Ms. Tanaka,” Inutaisho welcomed Kagome as she sat beside Rin at the large dining table. “I trust your accommodations are amenable?”

“Very much so, your majesty. Thank you very much. Your palace is very beautiful.”

The king chuckled. “Is there any room in the palace you liked the most?”

“The library,” Kagome responded. “All the old texts are quite amazing to see gathered in one place.”

“Ah yes.” He smiled. “There is much history held in that room.”

Prince Sesshomaru and his wife Princess Kagura arrived shortly, and Rin introduced Kagome to her mother. Kagura was just as statuesque as her husband, a poised beauty befitting a future Queen. Servants puttered about setting out appetizers before the first course coming in a few minutes. So, in the meantime, Kagome and Kagura chatted about Rin’s schedule. The woman was happy to see her adopted daughter so happy because the child never got along with the last attendant, regardless of how highly recommended the woman had been.

“Ah!” The King suddenly stood up. “There’s my Queen.”

Kagome stopped talking to look at who the man was talking about and saw another gorgeous woman walking towards him. The Queen was definitely human, with long raven hair pinned back away from her face, and flowing dress of the royal color schemes. They were adorable to Kagome, how the Inutaisho greeted her and helped her into her chair. Royals were often assumed to be haughty, proud, and snobbish but it could be quite the contrary as evident in the Inutaisho’s caring nature. Kagome was certain that, if necessary, the man could be a very imposing figure indeed, but with loved ones no different than any other, human or yokai.

The King introduced Kagome to his wife. “This is Queen Izayoi.”

Kagome stood up and bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you, your majesty.”

“I’m pleased to meet you too, Ms. Tanaka, I’ve heard a lot about you from my husband. Thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.”

“You’re too kind,” Kagome bowed again.

“I’m certain you— Oh,” the Queen cut short and focused he’d gaze past Kagome. “You made it, my son.”

‘Son?’ Kagome turned to see who the Queen was talking about. ‘Oh… wow…’

“Inuyasha, come meet your niece’s new Lady in Waiting, Ms. Tanaka.”

#inukag #inukag fan fic #inukag au #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha #kagome higurashi #royalty au #the irony of fate #ch 2 #petri808

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borhap-au · 4 years ago

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Joe Mazzello: the fluffy chronicles.

“You’d be better off with someone else”

Despite thinking long and hard, you weren’t able to answer the question “what you like the most about yourself,” because the truth was, there wasn’t such a thing. You hated your looks and your personality and your insecurity and… well, everything. The only good thing you found in your life was your relationship with Joe. He was a great boyfriend, very patient and understanding, but also loving and gentle. You loved spending your time with him – that is of course until the insecurity kicks in and ruin all the fun for you. You looked at him – a handsome, attractive man with a great sense of humor and amazing personality – and you couldn’t believe you dated him. But what you couldn’t believe even more, is why he dated you. In your opinion, he could’ve had any girl. He was charming, interesting and famous. There wasn’t a bad quality about him that you knew about. And yet he chose you, a “walking disaster,” as you liked to call yourself. And from that insecurity (and only from it, because Joe gave you no reason to think that) stem the idea that he will soon realize how bad you are, and how much better he can do, and he will leave you. So to save yourself some of the pain, you slowly started to distance yourself from him to make it easier later. It didn’t escape his attention.

You were sitting on a couch, watching a movie, but it wasn’t the usual scenario. Before, you would be snuggling to him and he would be petting your back. Right now, you were sitting at a distance, focusing on the movie instead of your boyfriend. He noticed.

“Y/N?” He looked at you concerned. “Did something happen?” He knew he had to be careful around you when you were feeling down. You were very fragile and he didn’t want to do anything to accidentally make it worse.

“No, why?” You looked at him for a short while and then came back to watching the movie. He moved closer to you and put his arm around you. You didn’t object, but your body was visibly tense.

“Are you sure? You seem a little different tonight,” he, on the other hand, paid no attention to the movie. He was completely focused on you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied. It wasn’t a comfortable situation for you either. You missed his touch, but when you finally got it, you felt like you didn’t deserve it, like he should be with someone else right now, someone better than you. So you felt guilty for wasting his time.

“What’s with the distance then? And the sudden urge to watch the movie? We’ve seen it twice already, you never paid much attention to it,” he explained, but in truth, it wasn’t just about tonight. He felt your change of behavior much earlier than that, but for a while he thought it was just a phase that would soon pass.

“Third time’s a charm. I thought since we watched it so many times already, it would be nice to see the full movie at least once, to know what it is about,” he nodded at your answer. It sounded reasonable and you felt even worse about lying now that he believed in it.

He let it go for some time. Later that evening, you were making dinner and he came up to you, hug you from behind and started kissing your neck, as he usually did, to make your cooking a more pleasant experience. Usually you stopped, at least for some time, to enjoy his touch, but tonight you just continued making the meal ignoring his affection. You even moved away, trying to reach some ingredients, without minding his embrace. He stepped back.

“What is it this time?” he asked knowing very well it was never about the movie. He looked at you hurt and disappointed, but more in himself than in you. He hated the fact he couldn’t help you feel better.

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just really hungry, want to make the food quickly,” lies again. He didn’t fall for it twice, but he nodded his head, knowing you won’t tell him. You sighed seeing that. You didn’t want your last days together to be like that. You wanted him to have nice memories of you. “Don’t worry, Joey,” you muttered quietly while coming back to cooking. “The next girl will treat you better.”

“What?” he raised his brow, not believing what he just heard. “My next what?”

“Next girlfriend,” you repeated, not looking at him.

“Where did that come from? Why would I want another girlfriend?” he asked, visibly confused. He definitely didn’t expect to hear that.

“You know, someone who’s worthy of you. Someone… Who isn’t me,” it wasn’t easy to say, but it resonated in your mind for some time now. You believed wholeheartedly that you weren’t good enough for him.

“If my future girlfriend isn’t you, then I don’t want her,” you smiled under your breath hearing that. It was very sweet of him to say that.

“Joey, we both know you deserve so much better than me. Prettier, skinnier, smarter and funnier,” you said, trying to smile, but it wasn’t easy. “You deserve someone who will make you happy, instead of constantly getting you down. You deserve someone around who you won’t have to mind your words. A relationship in which you can be yourself, unapologetically, without always doing something for the other person.”

“I am unapologetically myself around you. It doesn’t bother me that you feel down sometimes. I mean of course, it’s a problem in a sense I would immediately want to make you feel better and I don’t like when you’re sad, but it’s not a thing that would make me break up with you, ever,” he held your hand to show you he means it.

“Baby, you can have a girl that’s so much prettier than me. And sexier. What about your friend? Or my cousin, you know which one,” you said and he laughed softly.

“Really, girly? You’re going to advertise me other women?” he smiled and pet your cheek. “I don’t want any other type of figure or any other type of beauty. I want your beauty. Why do you think I’m not capable of making my own decisions? I’m pretty grown up actually. I know you and I love what I know. I fell in love with you and not anyone else. And I’m very content with my choice. So let me have what I want, okay?”

“You will soon realize how awful I am and change your mind. Just wait, I know you will. And I don’t want to be around to have my heart broken when that happens,” he sighed hearing that and took his hand away.

“Really? You think I’m so moody that I would break up the happiest relationship I’ve ever had because of a whim? We don’t fight, we have mutual goals and we love each other. Why would anything change if it’s all so good? I like it now, I want to see no changes apart from you being happier and more confident in this relationship, because we… Well, we love each other still, right? I mean, do you love me?”

“Of course I do. I would be a fool not to love you,” you answered.

“That’s exactly how I feel about you. I love you, and I want to be with you and you only. You’re perfect for me, no one else is,” he reassured you. You sighed.

“I’m not perfect,” you muttered, and he came to you and hugged you tightly.

“You’re perfect for me. There are girls who have other qualities, maybe they have something that you want, but for me, you’re all I need. You have all the qualities I want in a girlfriend. You say there are skinnier girls? Girls that feel happier more often? Maybe. But at the same time I’m sure they would be annoying, or bossy, or whatever else. They have other qualities, sure. Qualities I don’t need. I chose you with my sane mind. I knew who you are and I chose you. Now I got to know you even better and I would still choose you, every time,” you hugged him tightly and started crying quietly.

“Even if I’m so boring…?” you muttered quietly.

“You’re not boring,” he reassured you, petting your back. “Actually, you’re fascinating to me. I love listening to you, especially when you’re passionate about something. It’s just so entertaining to watch. And I love looking at you, because you’re just my type. You have such a unique type of beauty, it’s so hard to find someone like you. And I found everything I ever needed in you.”

“What if you find someone better?” you didn’t look up saying that.

“Better from perfect? I don’t think so. I don’t know how I can explain that to you in other words, but life is not about being skinny, having perfect hair and clothes. For me relationships aren’t about that. That actress that you like so much? If I were with her you would probably think “that’s what he deserves,” meanwhile I would be suffocating in that relationship. Because she wouldn’t want to spend time with me like we do together, she would have other priorities, she wouldn’t get my sense of humor or whatever else. Your personality is perfect for me. So is your body, but I assume you won’t believe in that yet. But it’s true. So please, don’t push me away. Having this distance between us is a torture, really. Please, let us both be happy. Just be with me, and I’ll try to do anything I can to appreciate you like you should be appreciated. Can you do that for me?” You slowly nodded your head and only then looked him in the eyes. He smiled at you and kissed your lips softly.

“You’re sure you don’t want anyone else?” you asked after the kiss.

“I’m sure. Can you please stop asking me this question? I want you and you only. Did I ever do anything to make you feel otherwise?”

“No…,” you muttered quietly.

“So, please, don’t overthink it. If I had anything new to say to you, I would just say it, I wouldn’t expect you to learn that from some signs I’d give you. Really, I love you, and I will continue to love you, even if you break up with me. But please, don’t. I’m crazy about you,” he smiled, petting your cheek. You stood on your toes and kissed him softly. He kissed you back.

“Thank you,” you smiled after the kiss.

“Don’t thank me for that. And come on, you were hungry. We got to finish the meal,” said and this time he actually helped you out, not just by kisses. Although he planted some on your head and shoulder, because without them, it just wouldn’t be the same.

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moony-meadow · 4 years ago

Text

Going for Goldie (5)

Pt. 1 / Pt. 2 / Pt. 3 / Pt. 4 / Pt. 5 / Pt. 6

Laying in a heap at the bottom of Mammon’s stomach, I fought the urge to yell at the demon for the less than gentle treatment I’d just been subjected to. Despite the turbulence I’d just experienced, I had managed to pick up on the fact that Lucifer had made an appearance.

I had no desire to make the fact that I’d been swallowed known to a single other person, especially not Lucifer, who would likely punish both Mammon and I for the stunt. For that reason, I remained as still and silent as possible. Lucifer was observant, the slightest move or sound on my part could alert him to my location.

“Were you talking to yourself, Mammon?” I heard the Avatar of Pride’s distant voice ask.

“Huh? Oh yeah just--just talkin’ to myself…” Mammon responded awkwardly. I shook my head. I knew his proficiency with lying to be somewhat spotty. There were rare occasions he could pull off a flawless fib, but most of the time he stumbled through his lies with all the grace of an elephant. This time seemed to be more like the latter.

There was a brief pause in the conversation going on outside. It seemed as though Lucifer was considering whether or not to press his brother further on his unusual behavior. Apparently, he ended up deeming it not worth it as he smoothly switched subjects. “I scoured the entirety of the House of Lamentation and have not managed to locate your credit card,” he announced in his usual icy tone. “Evidently you finally managed to choose a competent hiding place.” The annoyance in the demon’s voice was restrained but still noticeable. Lucifer didn’t like being bested, especially not by his younger brother, whom he insisted was hopelessly idiotic.

Mammon’s stomach shifted slightly. I kept a firm hold on the walls to keep myself steady. “In that case, maybe you should just let me keep Goldie then,” the Avatar of Greed offered hopefully.

Lucifer gave a low, ominous chuckle. “No, I’ve still got one more ace up my sleeve,” he remarked. With my ear pressed against the outer wall of the stomach, I could just barely pick up on the sound of the bedroom door being opened, followed by a new set of footsteps. “You see, I have a theory that you can’t go twelve hours separated from your credit card.” Lucifer continued. “I’m far too busy to spend my time surveilling you, but I thankfully know someone all too willing to help out for the promise of food.”

“He promised me ten large pizzas,” came Beelzebub’s voice, revealing who the newcomer was.

“So, Beel will stay and watch you for the next twelve hours,” Lucifer announced, “If you manage to go that long without going after your ‘Goldie’, then I will allow you to hold onto it for the time being.” A feeling of dread was quickly beginning to come over me. If Beel was going to be watching Mammon like a hawk, there would be no opportunity for him to cough me back up--I’d be stuck in his stomach for the next twelve hours!

“I--uh, is that really necessary?” Mammon questioned nervously. I could feel his muscles tensing up around me.

Lucifer gave another deep chuckle. “See you two tomorrow,” was all he said before his footsteps receded and the door clicked shut behind him.

A long moment of silence stretched out between the two occupants (not including myself) of the room. Mammon clearly didn’t know what to say or do, and Beelzebub had never been the overly talkative type. Just as I thought the quiet would never be broken, Beel finally spoke up. “It smells like Y/N in here.” I smacked a hand to my face. Of all the things for him to say, it had to be that.

“Oh, well um--” Mammon started but was quickly interrupted.

“It smells pretty recent too.” It wasn’t all that surprising that Beel’s sense of smell was so good considering his obsession with food. But the fact that he could detect the freshness of a scent was kind of scary. “Mammon, is Y/N hiding somewhere in here?” Despite being the younger of the two demons, Beel’s voice took on the chastising edge of a parental figure.

I bit my lip. I had no clue how Mammon was going to explain his way out of this one, especially when it was clear he was currently far from the top of his lying game.

There was a moment’s hesitation on Mammon’s part and then, “I’ll only tell ya if you promise to keep it just between us.”

My mouth fell open. “He is not seriously considering telling Beel where I am,” I quietly hissed. This whole situation was already embarrassing enough as it was without someone else getting involved.

“I don’t know about that,” Beel responded, seeming unmoved by Mammon’s pleading tone.

“Aw, come on. If not for me, then at least for Y/N,” Mammon insisted.

A moment of silence, and then, “Alright, fine,” Beel relented.

I massaged the bridge of my nose. All of this nonsense had quickly caused a headache to form. The involvement of a third party in this mess was something I very much did not want. However, it seemed I had little choice in the matter. Big shocker, the person stuck in someone’s stomach was at everyone else’s whim.

I listened silently as Mammon explained the situation. When he finally got to the part about my current location, I heard a sharp intake of breath from Beelzebub. “You ate them?! Are you crazy?!” The concern in the Avatar of Gluttony voice was honestly touching. Despite what his impressive height and rippling muscles might suggest, Beel was actually quite the big softie.

“I told you, our pact makes it perfectly safe. Tell ‘im, Y/N.” I felt one of Mammon’s fingers prod his stomach. I was half tempted to say nothing in order to get him in trouble with Beel, as payback for disclosing my location without my consent and all. However, causing more chaos in a situation that was already such a huge fiasco didn’t seem like the best idea in the long run.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” I called out. “Relatively speaking,” I added with a grumble.

I heard a small commotion outside and then suddenly felt a hand being pressed against the stomach wall. “You’re really in there then,” came Beel’s voice, much closer now.

“Oi, get off of me, would ya?” Mammon exclaimed. I tightened my hold on the walls as everything around me shook with the giant demon’s movements. I could only assume Mammon was shoving Beel away from him.

Once everything settled back down and I felt sure I wouldn’t immediately topple over, I stood up and pressed myself close to the outermost stomach wall. “You’re not going to tell Lucifer, are you?” I shouted out to Beel. The guy was pretty loyal to his oldest brother, I doubted he would feel particularly comfortable having to lie to him.

A low sigh came from the red headed demon. “I guess not, though I’m going to have to figure out what to tell him.”

A grateful smile formed on my face, though I quickly remembered Beel wouldn’t be able to see it and called out a verbal thank you instead. Maybe getting him in on their scheme hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

“Why don’t ya go to town for a lil while and act like ya followed me there?” Mammon suggested. “Then go tell Lucifer ya lost me ‘cause you got distracted by the food in a bakery window or somethin’.” My eyebrows rose. The amount of decent ideas Mammon was having recently was getting a little freaky.

“That does sound like something I would do,” Beel admitted shamelessly. “Fine, I’ll do it. But you might not want to take Y/N out until the twelve hours are up, just in case Lucifer decides to do another search for your card.” That statement was certainly enough to put a frown on my face. Sleeping over in a demon’s stomach was very much not how I wanted my night to go.

“Mmmkay,” Mammon responded, sounding far too chipper for my liking. He was probably happy to keep me in his stomach longer, the jerk.

I could hear Beelzebub’s footsteps retreating towards the bedroom door, but then they stopped. “Oh and Y/N,” he piped up sweetly. “Can I eat you next time?”

Mammon’s barely suppressed chortling shook me. I aimed another elbow jab at the stomach wall. “I am not letting you guys take turns eating me!” I snapped. “So get that idea out of your heads.”

A sound of disappointment came from Beel. “But I bet you taste so good,” he pouted.

“Oh trust me, they do,” Mammon replied. I could practically hear the Cheshire like grin in his voice.

#shall we vore #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t vore #soft vore

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