#this seems like it should work? though i need to find a way to preserve the quality throughout | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

radiant-reid · 1 year ago

Text

Truth

Summary: Reader knows there’s something going on between JJ and Spencer but she trusts him that that’s just the way they are... until he goes to LA

i cannot find the request for this, ugh !!!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst)

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist | Navigation

Y/n had let it go after that night.

"You're not seriously upset about this, are you?" Spencer asks incredulously once the apartment door clicks shut.

It had been an incredibly awkward car ride together, twenty minutes home in complete silence. He hates when it gets cold and distant between them, even though he usually causes it by neglecting to discuss his feelings, but this time, he's fired up. Y/n can't read if he's dumbfounded or shaken.

Although often synonymous, there's a difference here. If Spencer's dumbfounded, he thinks her suggestion is ridiculous and totally, 100% wrong. It would be offensive wording but best for the preservation of their relationship. If he's shaken, then she's correct, and he's coming to terms with the significance of that discovery himself.

Y/n sighs as she spins around to face him, her plan of making a beeline to the bedroom falling through. "That was flirting. She was flirting with you, Spencer." She tells him firmly.

Spencer shakes his head, stunned by the allegation she's choosing to repeat. "She was- are you okay?"

"Don't make it about me." She instructs.

"It's about you when you're talking..." Crazy is the word he stops himself short of saying- they both know it. He breathes deeply to calm himself. "She wasn't flirting with me." He maintains. "We're friends."

Y/n shakes her head. She knows he needs it explained to him, simplified to an extent, but upholding his position so staunchly doesn't make her want to do that. "You don't have to best track record for knowing when people are flirting with you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He asks, his eyes narrowing.

There's a specific incident she's referring to, but there's been more than a few annoying instances when she's left standing at his side fuming. She's aware he doesn't do it on purpose. Spencer's not an asshole purposefully trying to make his girlfriend jealous by accepting flirtatious behavior from other women, but he's handsome. And unfortunately, not immediately rejecting advances makes it seem like he's interested.

"Spencer." She had told him when she finally pulled him off to a slightly quieter corner of the bar the team was in. "Her asking you what you're doing this weekend isn't her having an interest in your Korean film festival."

Spencer had been much better at getting it since then. He profiles a bit more cynically, purposefully looking for indicators that someone's interested in him.

Not tonight.

It was Michael's first birthday which, of course, meant it was a big celebration- BAU style. Spencer attended like the proud godfather he was, making sure every single one of JJ and Will's friends knew their son's achievements.

What should have been a lovely day would have turned into a discussion about them having their own kids when Y/n expressed how attractive Spencer looked while he held Michael's hands so the boy could practice walking.

But no.

Instead, they're standing on different ends of the kitchen island, both uncompromising in their views because of more than a few moments at the party between JJ and Spencer.

"She was flirting with you, Spencer." Y/n holds firm. "Touching your arm, giggling at your jokes, whispering stuff to you." She lists the frequently used tactics that she witnessed. She's become accustomed to them working on Spencer, but he has always admitted, upon later reflection, that the motive was more than friendly.

He can't believe it this time, and he quickly gets defensive. "Just because you don't think I'm funny doesn't mean everyone doesn't."

Y/n scoffs, irritated he would twist it so spitefully to play the victim. "Seriously?" She deadpans, waiting for him to react better.

"It was an inside joke." Spencer tries a different tactic that only has her eyebrows raised again. He sighs dramatically, gripping the edge of the bench.

"This is ridiculous." She states.

"I'm glad you see that too." He argues. "JJ was not flirting with me."

His insolence further fuels her anger. "Even Will looked uncomfortable." Y/n hits back.

"She's my friend." He repeats. "We are their friends. JJ and Will have been married for years. They've lived together and raised a son for even longer. I'm their sons' godfather. She's been my friend for more than a decade. There's nothing malicious going on."

It didn't feel like that. And that was likely because Y/n had only gotten to know them years following their friendship's establishment.

Maybe he's right. It's feasible that Y/n just hasn't found her place in the dynamic. "Are you sure?"

Spencer senses her walls coming down, and he steps closer to her in a few tense strides, cupping her cheeks in a way that makes her melt. His eyes soften until there's no anger remaining. "Yes, my love. I promise there is nothing romantic between JJ and I." He assures her.

It's so sincere. Spencer has always been a persuasive talker, and it's gotten him out of dangerous situations.

Maybe the deep gut feeling she has is off. There's no way to know what happens behind closed doors, but JJ and Will appear to be happily married. Her life seems completely fulfilling. It makes no sense for her to have a crush on Spencer.

So she's determined to shake it off- for Spencer, her own sanity, and their relationship. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to such a drastic accusation."

"No, no. Hey, I will always listen to your feelings." Spencer reminds her softly. "I'm sorry I didn't immediately hear you out. It was just unexpected. I would hate for you to stop talking to me about your emotions if you think I'll shut you down."

"Thank you, and I'm sorry," Y/n replies.

His words are massively relieving, and her negative thoughts aren't weighty. "I love you, Y/n."

She smiles softly. "I love you too."

"Can I kiss you now? I've been wanting to for hours." He begs, thumbs stroking over her cheekbones. He's elaborating a little but for good reason.

"Please." She agrees.

His fingers curl around her head while he leans down to kiss her, not breaking it until they're both out of air. Everything's okay.

And so Y/n had let it go after that night.

She was with him through everything. Dealing with his mom, Mexico, prison, and the long recovery after that. She was with him through thick and thin, even when Spencer had given up on himself. He'll never understand what he did to deserve her love, but it means everything to him. She's the calm presence in amongst his chaos.

No issue in their relationship has been too hard to tackle when they worked together through Spencer's personal problems so well. Nothing between them seemed insurmountable since Spencer's life was so tumultuous.

When he gets home from his case in LA, she's in the bedroom, checking his suit for Rossi's wedding the next day is in perfect condition. The ironing is crisp, not a single wrinkle on the fabric.

He usually calls out when he enters the apartment door, both so she'll reply, and he'll know what room to navigate to, and so she doesn't freak out about hearing footsteps on the floorboards.

This time, he doesn't.

It's like his brain got torn out and is still sitting on the floor of a little jewelry store in downtown LA. His thoughts remain entirely occupied by the previous day's events. Even though the jet home was long, he didn't sleep for a second. It's 7 am East Coast Time now, but it feels like just a second ago, his world got rocked.

"You're back!" Y/n grins, still unaware of the grave news he's bearing. She searches through her jewelry box for a piece to complement her dress. Her final moments of blissful ignorance. "Okay, so I was thinking you might need to nap before the wedding since it'll probably go late- I mean, you know Rossi."

"Y/n." Spencer whispers, trying to stop her from spreading joy and being the life in his life. He absolutely does not deserve that, as he lies by omission. He speaks weakly on purpose, wanting to listen to her excited ramble despite knowing he needs to be honest and say something that will crush her.

She doesn't hear him, and hasn't looked at him hard enough to see his devastation. "But your suit is good to go. I've got some other stuff to do, so have a nap, and I'll have lunch ready when you're up."

"Y/n!" He snaps much too loud.

Her eyes flick to his, and she knows something drastic has changed. Her stomach drops in dread as the air in the room turns stale.

"What?" She asks cautiously, voice wavering. Her heart thumps in her chest. "What is it, Spencer?"

"JJ said..." Spencer trails off, looking straight past his girlfriend. He's not brave enough to look at her directly.

No more explanation is needed for it to click.

Her whole world gets shattered instantly, everything she built with Spencer, every dream and hope she had with him, is destroyed in a second.

Her stomach stays dropped so low it feels like it's weighing her down and that she could be physically sick. She feels paralyzed until tears start streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh." She whispers, although it's as loud as a jet engine in the silent room. "Wow. Okay."

Spencer wanted more than that. He wants her to scream at him, telling him he should have stopped thinking he knew everything and listened when she was suspicious. Spencer would take any range of passionate emotions over the silence she's giving him as she processes it. He begs with his eyes for her to tell him what she's feeling.

It's to no avail.

He thinks he's getting somewhere when she stands up, that maybe she'll hug him or enquire about the cut on his hand.

"What happens now?" Y/n asks, ignoring her own tears and his. She always cups his cheeks and wipes them up gently because seeing him in pain pains her. That's how love works.

"Y/n..." She needs him to say more that time. Her soft-spoken name leaving his lips is bad news.

She forces herself to nod and swallow down her distraught tears. "It's okay. I know." It would hurt to hear him admit it, but she might think he's not a coward.

Now Spencer's paralyzed, watching his nightmare play out in front of him, and he's incapable of preventing it, of making her stay.

Her delicate, shaking fingers unclasp her necklace, and the 18k gold chain with an 'S' pendant burns a hole in her hand before she thrusts it into his.

It's warm against his cold hands, a sign it's not where it should be. It's supposed to be daintily sitting on Y/n's chest, near her heart, for the rest of forever.

"No." He finally says, gasping a breath out. "What are you-"

She cuts him off before he talks for too long and causes her to remain so in love with him that she can overlook a massive problem. "You love her." She voices what they've been dancing around. It's an ugly, hurtful truth. "You might be in love with me, but you love JJ more than you should."

Spencer shakes his head, frantically denying the claim they both know is factual. As awful as it is, he's thought about a future with JJ on more than one occasion and during a long-term relationship. It's not that he wants to be with her- which would be a complicated mess and break everyone involved hearts- but something between them remains unresolved. All because of two tickets to see the Redskins.

Y/n speaks before he can, tilting her head upward as she tries to brush back some of her tears. "Don't lie to me, Spence. Please don't."

He figures he owes her that much. Nothing he could say would fix the torpedo that ripped through their relationship. So he doesn't protest or fight for their relationship as she readies to leave him.

"I'll go now and get some stuff once you've gone out." She decides.

Her stuff which means she's planning on separating everything, and he'll never see her things again. Never mind the possessions- he might never see her again.

There's no point in making a case for her to come to Krystall and Dave's wedding when she only knows them through him, but Spencer isn't sure how he'll be able to sit through a ceremony and speeches and dinner and drinking and dancing- where everyone's feeling the love- when all he would have been thinking about is how it should be his turn next. It sounds like torture.

Spencer stands there, horrified and helpless, as she slips past him. "Goodbye, Spence."

And just like that, she's gone.

It's surreal.

Surely- surely- the love of his life hadn't just walked out the door and left him. That can't have happened.

He doesn't even feel overly tired, but he must be so sleep-deprived that he's imagining things. Having visions is a less scary thought than Y/n leaving.

The surreal feeling and eerie silence deepen, and he quickly collapses on the couch from overwhelming fatigue, hoping the past hours have been a terrible nightmare.

When he wakes and calls out for Y/n, quickly realizing she's not there and his worst fear has come true, Spencer sobs. He cries so much through getting ready for the wedding that his cheeks are blotchy, and his eyes blood shocked as he looks at himself in the mirror. He looks terrible, but he feels so much worse. It's emptiness. His eyes look dull, his hair scruffy, and his heart aches.

Her dress is still there- dark blue that compliments his suit, but it's matchy-and it hangs in the wardrobe on a coat hanger from the dry cleaner, taunting him. Spencer's hand comes to cup his mouth as panic and nausea rock his stomach. Y/n should be wearing the dress and beside him the whole afternoon while they celebrate love. Something's amiss, and he hopes no one calls him on it because he will, without a doubt, break down in sobs.

Germs feel permanently on him, and he's guilt-ridden. Sure, JJ's words in LA weren't his fault, but- fuck- he should have said something to stop the love of his life from walking out under the wrong impression that he loved someone else.

He makes a beeline for Penelope at the bar to avoid being around JJ and get some alcohol in his system so that maybe everything will hurt less.

She looks pretty, but Will gazes at her like she hung the moon, and Spencer quickly realizes he could never feel that way. Her glances across the room at him piss him off, whereas Y/n's would make him blush.

"No Y/n?" Penelope asks, looking disappointed when he walks over alone.

That's the reaction his amazing potentially-ex-girlfriend inspires in his friends. People love her for her warmth and humor, and Spencer's sure the team is grateful someone's making him smile.

"Unfortunately not." Spencer grimaces as he gets the lie out. "She's sick." Or, more likely, bawling her eyes out at her friends because her boyfriend is a jerk, Spencer figures. He would feel worse for lying if it were possible.

"Oh damn, I have heard there's a bad flu." Penelope easily believes the lie.

"What are you making?" Spencer asks, redirecting the conversation to the cocktails she's expertly whipping up.

The wedding is small, which Spencer's sure is appropriate for a fourth or third round 2. It feels wrong to be there without Y/n. If he's eventually going to have one of these with her, surely he should be looking at the flower arrangements while she notices hair options. Not judging, just getting ideas.

It would be nothing like JJ and Will's wedding. Y/n would hate a surprise wedding with no choice in decor or food, even though it's romantic in theory.

He could never marry someone like JJ. He could never marry JJ.

She's a real person. That seems to be a fact he keeps forgetting when he thinks about a future with her. She can't be the idealized version of her from his 24-year-old self's fantasy, and with her sitting no more than 20 feet from him, he's positive she's not who he's compatible with.

It's worse at the speeches. Emily stands with perfectly crafted words, and Spencer's almost in tears when the story verges from being Dave-and-Krystall specific.

"...that this was fate." His running thoughts halt at Emily's words. "...that their marriage was in the stars."

That's him and Y/n. They lived a block from each other in DC but had to travel three and a half thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean to meet. That's fate. He recalls her laughter when he joked that the universe got sick of them not finding each other and forced them together. And the subsequent, love-filled conversation where they decided soulmates, and twin flames, must be real because they are the embodiment of the term.

Rossi is always a high-roller at Vegas casinos. There was no doubt he'd meet a blackjack dealer. It's not fate the way he and Y/n are fate.

He's always been sure she's the one, but this is the ultimate determining tool.

They have to be together. Spencer and JJ had bottled up their crushes without voicing them for more than a decade, and that's why it messed with his brain so much. Emily talking about confessions taking time to work out is not about them.

His fingers play with the tablecloth as he drafts a speech of his own, one that will set things right. He's too antsy to enjoy the rest of dinner or dessert. All he's thinking about is how soon he can leave- of course, after wishing the happy couple well.

Spencer knows where she is. The doorbell camera already notified him when she had arrived at their apartment, which might now be an invasion of privacy.

It's a bit of a drive to get home, and he's thankful he stopped at one cocktail so he wouldn't do something stupid, like yell at JJ in front of their friends. As mean as it sounds, he doesn't have emotion to waste on her. It's all poured into love for Y/n.

He doesn't have time to wait for the elevator, taking the stairs three at a time.

"Y/n!" He calls out as soon as he swings open the door. His heart pounds in his chest thanks to his poor athleticism, but mostly because this is the most important thing he'll ever do in his life.

"Yeah?" She replies, her voice coming from the bedroom as she steps out

She looks heartbroken seeing him, destroyed by the damage he caused over the last ten hours, and there's no way this can be how he leaves her, that this can be the last time he sees her.

"Don't say something that hurts." Spencer can tell Y/n's trying to be firm, but she's begging. There is no way he can ever hurt her.

"I won't." He swears. It's tense, and he feels award standing there. "Y/n, I-"

"I told you." She reminds him, referencing one conversation he's been thinking about. She was so good at dropping it after he offered her unknowingly untrue reassurance. Her plan to let him do the talking flies out the window, and she can't help releasing the brewing emotions. "I knew she loved you and hoped you didn't love her back. And now everything is fucking mess, and I just didn't think that you would do that."

"I don't love her that way." Spencer declares, and he doesn't feel guilty because he's not lying.

Y/n rolls her eyes. "You owe me the truth."

He tentatively steps closer, and she doesn't stop him. "I don't look at JJ and see my future. She's not the person I think about when I see an old couple walking down the street. I don't know the songs she listens to when she's sad or the correct amount of syrup she likes on her pancakes. I don't know the number of her childhood home or favorite piece of art in the Met. I'm not sure if she sings in the shower or if she ties her shoes with two loops. And I don't want to know any of that. You're the only person I ever want to know that personally. I don't love her the way romantic love works. But I didn't know that until I met you, and the very first day, I realized it was different. I know you said that, and I am so sorry I convinced you not to listen to your gut."

Y/n's crying by the end of his beautiful, naturally spoken words. He rushed to get it out, and she processes it for a minute. "Okay." She decides, accompanied by a choked sob.

Spencer frowns because he can't read her properly. "Okay?" He repeats softly.

She steps forward, which has to be a good sign. "I need you to kiss me now."

Spencer's crying too slightly as he closes the gap between them, cradling her face like he might shatter her in his palms. "Okay." He whispers, closing the distance between their lips without wasting another second. It's heavier than usual, holding a thousand unspoken words, but it feels like a resolution.

He holds her long after they've run out of air, finally feeling like he can breathe now that he's home.

"I am so in love with you." He tells her. "There is no one else I could ever be with."

She smiles softly back at him. "I'm in love with you too." She replies. "And this suit... you look very handsome."

He smiles widely. "You're the most gorgeous girl in the world." She doesn't bother reminding him that she's been crying and looks washed out. Spencer will forever insist that she is perfect. "Can I take you to dinner? Because I have missed you."

She nods. "I'd love that. And I have the perfect dress."

Tell me what you think

Taglist

Join here

@anonymous-reading @bingereid @measure-in-pain @archer561 @la-vie-en-amour1 @cynbx @spencers-dria @hardpartybasketballshepherd @ilovespencerreidmarryme @mrsobrien888 @parahmur @averyhotchner @honkroselyn @randomwriter1021 @bunnyweasley23 @rebeccasoutlook @teenwaywardasgardian @bubb1eana1ee @icequeen6666 @are-y0u-sirius @psychomanias @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @jswessie187 @k-gallacher @morganwilliams @vaella1821 @ndubes04 @juneballoon999 @tiaras-amongst-trash @onceinadifferentdimension @criminal-reid @yikesyikesyikes95 @80strashbag @ilovespencerreidmarryme @citylights31 @ssavanessa22 @thedancingnerdmermaid @doctorspenceryeet @camreid @canadailluminate @lethpartridge @ssagube @spencerreid-mgg @nightlockcornucopia @allexthakatt @silverhetdanes @aperrywilliams @g-l-pierce @reidswhoree @beepbooptoop @silverhetdanes @kyanyakya @katiejozeisler @matthewwhore @megnotfound @80strashbag @mrsobrien888 @morganwilliams @j-cat @440mxs-wife @hueycat2004 @gspenc @icurasthefallenangel @iheartspence @ssavanessa22 @bisexual-virgin @thecraziestcrayon @katesreading @cance1medaddy @kuolonsyoja @alexlovescriminalminds @kahootlobbymusic @nomajdetective @idonotexiste @drayshadow @justalittleweirdoo @a-little-bit-of-everything19 @spencesscarf @lhhluvr @holding-on-to-my-youth @averyhotchner @mugi-chwan95 @gspenc @navs-bhat @idkbubs @mochionly @nessy-nygma @nani-2305 @casfellinlovewithhumanity @shinyanchorface @nbyrd390 @drayshadow @hot-dino-nuggies @averyhotchner @simonsbluee @collectiveuniverses @meggie-m00n @allthecolorsneverseen @sassymoon @nomajdetective @exmachina187 @exhaleli @lucymfer @stumbleonmywords @reeid @hopefullawyerfishprofessor @graktung @sir1usblacksgf @pinkcoffeecup @luckyladycreator2 @fairyellieee @malboroniightz @kateyee @corefleur @maybe-not-this @starrylang @citylights31 @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @ssa-uglywhore27 @kitkatkaitin @rocketxgirl @navs-bhat @bellarkeselection @strugglingtodoshit @joy-soul-gallery @venomsvl @harry-is-my-sunflower @luckyladycreator2 @egglantine23 @holding-on-to-my-youth @misselsbells06 @starrylang @lokisel @gryffi-ndor @lilibet261@idkbubs @slutalexis46 @glimmering-darling-dolly @kodiakwhiskey @rocketxgirl @mochionly @goldentournesol @xdsage @missusstark @spaceygirly1 @holding-on-to-my-youth @insomniacbeth @nbyrd390 @shirleyrose @airedale17 @tanyaherondale @buckys-estrella @geekykeen @lovingsherlockmolly @rory-cakes @muwun-blossom @jetblckdreams @i-wanna-be-conan-obrien @reidsbookmark @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @idfvc @sammypotato67 @tanyaherondale @1-800-brain-and-heart @stcrrjoon @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @wholesome-beans @frickin-bats @chaoticevilbakugo @goldeng1rl8 @arrowurboat @itzyourgurlnihya @belongwithreid @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @spencer-reids-mismatched-socks @addievermore @harrymybelovedd @chimpmunk @i3k2ts @axen-gers @gxrlwithluv @finny-of-the-rear @greengarsstuff @altsvu @jakiki94 @narryl0ver @justreadingficsdontmindme @hobireasns @goldentournesol @kbakery @kaitieskidmore1 @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @chaoticconnoisseurgiver @kbakery @twofacesoftheworldbutnotsome @geekykeen @thisbitch-6 @andreead @kayleea122 @xoxospencerreid @dirtytissuebox @xoxospencerreid @jaydahlynne @sultrypotter @awhoreforspencerreid @sprinh @doe-eyed-fallen-angel @kamilaxq @beans-beanz @malindacath @halloween-is-my-nationality @kenny-0909 @mexicosuitrry @lucyysthings @iheartfinnthehuman101 @vane28282 @mente-sindescanso @lucyysthings @tatespillows @cecethoughts @manuosorioh @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @barbietiingz @grandhideoutavenue @feelinlento @i3k2ts @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @sanaz1dlol @ant-mans-tacos @mente-sindescanso @yumuramma @bubblebuttwade @bellarkeselection @spenceswifewhore @barbiekatz @itseightbeats @neptunes-curse @sucker1-1punch @nyx2021 @stilinski-void-04 @dirtytissuebox @daydreaminrry @mysticfalls01 @furiousladyking @gildedstarlight @halloween-is-my-nationality @reidsmexyconverse @scargarcia-magshotchner @wdytminy @rio-reid-whoreee @lovelyxtom @b3ast1706 @slvdsjjk @beenz-beenz @alltoowell-lilysversion @la-reine-des-enfers @mochi-moons @itzliyalupin @queenofrandom @ryswritingrecord @ynbutbetter @thxtmarvelchick @allthingsfashionn @justlivinginadaydream @liltimmyst @catertotshitposts @max-mml @crynroom @sugarcoated-lame @lilibet261 @bts-sugaplum @dezibou @a-marlene-s @crynroom @tracysnook @spencersprettyslut @alexxavicry @reidingspence@melonmochi @thicksexxualtension @haylexo10 @rosaliedepp @bport76 @dirtytissuebox @itsmekarlam @saintnourah @liltimmyst @mikkelsenlover @spencer-reid-wonderland @dirtytissuebox @esoltis280 @berenicexd @lyn07 @crynroom @taysatlantic @alphabetbarnes @4margaritasalex @namelesslizz @allisonslibrary @suckmyass-things @jasminesacademia @littlemoon-fairy @lucy @waywardhunter95 @neptunes-curse @rayrayfrommindless21 @regulus-black-223048 @dingusfreakhxrrington @sluttt444slashersss @little-miss-blinder @fdl305 @feltonswifesworld87 @sunsetlarry @lovelyvante @rintheemolion @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @dashneydanger @namelesslizz @malindacath @sleepy-enby16 @itzteaganbitch @baubarbie @rippl3s @kokoterainonago666 @mizzysx @princess-of-the-snake-pit @cvrosstuff @coldheartedmar @fudge13 @mushy-mushroom04 @live-laugh-love-spencerreid @crazy4chickennuggets @lundenloves @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sapphireplums @no-soy-fer @haleyshue97 @rippl3s @writingliv @poppetbaby02 @not-feeling-so-good @mizzysx @reidssweatervest @gabxbyr @tayswozle @mslowlife @spencybear @brightlilith @pauline5525mgg @fanf1ctionwrit1n @j-cat @captainhotchner @ceeellewrites @randommmguerr / @sinnxagain / @alotdreamers / @resident-boygenius @tyblackthornsheadphones

@gublerstwilight @iamreallytryingiswear @gublur @countingthestarsinfinitely @actingchica @illegallygingerr @uhuhuh @alexxavicry @probablycryingg @black-veil-baby @uwu-queen-420 @one-sweet-gubler @buckys-doll17 @gubedawnreid @ummvengers @parahmur @whovianayesha @love3babies @simonsnowsblog @geekykeen @allthingsfashionn @spideyjass @flipperpenguins @j4sephluv @sophneedsfandoms @asantos7783 @hotchandspencearedilfs @sammypotato67 @dimpledsmilex3 @altogeek16 @nervous-plant @safespacespence @maraudersminds @bakugouswh0r3 @ilovespencerreidmarryme @fangirling-galore @ah-blossom @matthewgraygublerlover @happypixy380 @alohastitch0626 @nyx2021 @assemblemotherfuckers @hwngslove @helen-with-an-a @sia2raw @hufflepuffwhore13 @pastelbabygirl19 @chazubagi @spencerreidsmommy @blomfildsbeauty @urbestgrrl @hagridsmomma @alexxavicry @eichenhouseproperty @langcvn @paperbackprettyboy @spencersprettyslut @devilslilbabysblog @padf00ts-l0ver @pancake2603 @lonnie2390147 @nyenye @mrshoranhmm @honey-stark @an0bra1n @jordierama @bellenotthebeast @darkenwolfie @jellycolors @obviouslyfred @neptunes-curse @cloudxxs

2K notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 1 month ago

Text

Title: The Gift

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Doflamingo x Viola/Violet (mentioned)

Warnings/Notes: My belated Doffy birthday oneshot 😅! Reader is female coded, but no explicit gender/pronouns are referenced (unless I missed one). Language. Age difference. Dubious consent. Male ejaculation, and some actual fluff this time?

Synopsis: Being such a vain and self-centric man, one would expect elaborate public birthday celebrations for Dressrosa’s king. But as the newest member of Doflamingo’s crew, you’re surprised to find that this isn’t the case. And you don’t think that’s right. So you resolve to give him a very personal gift anyway, to quite unforeseen (at least to you) results.

Fic Masterlist

———————————

Doflamingo didn’t celebrate his birthday any longer.

This tidbit of information about your new master was dropped so casually one afternoon as you and Baby 5 worked together to clean blood and viscera off of the stonework.

The two of you were together in some dark room the Donquixote captain didn’t want the normal palace maids to venture into. A special interrogation space you now dumped another bucket of soapy water over.

It wasn’t your place to ask any questions though. You had only lived in Dressrosa for the last six months.

You were the payment Doflamingo had taken when your previous owner couldn’t cough up enough for a weapons debt in time.

Yes, your last master had likely ended up in a room much like this one. Because you’d never seen that abusive old man ever again.

But you were a logia user. And that qualification had seemed good enough for Doflamingo to allow you this new chance within his own ranks instead.

So you did not complain. And you did not step out of line. You only followed orders just as faithfully as all these pirates that had lived with him years before you had.

But you still wondered.

You wondered why it bothered you that no one was supposed to acknowledge the day their leader had been born.

The one day that should really be his.

You were still so skeptical of this, that you even paid more attention to the goings on in town over the next week. Looking for any hint of even the most subtle celebration plans or decorations for the people’s king.

But there were none.

And within the palace, Giolla was who you most often were assigned to and shadowed. When you realized even she showed no interest in making artwork for the king’s upcoming cumpleaños as they called it here, that was when you finally knew they must be serious.

His birthday had been removed from all outward recognition, both within his own kingdom and private “family”.

It was such an odd notion, for how extravagant of a man Doflamingo seemed to be.

But you supposed you didn’t really know him either. In the entire six months you’d lived within his home, you didn’t think you’d had more than a few words directed at you from his grinning lips. And they had only ever been emotionless commands.

Ones you dutifully followed.

And you were okay with this arrangement. Because you had been purchased fairly. Your life preserved in exchange for being little more than a warm blooded machine. Simply another tool among all his others.

Yet you still kept thinking about him and this erasure of his birth. It felt so wrong to you.

Somehow even more wrong than the toys you sometimes heard crying in the underground port after midnight, or the blood you and Baby 5 cleaned up again and again from those equally hidden dungeons.

You lay awake in your room for hours actually, on the night before his birthday, until an idea finally came to you.

You had a need to do something about your feelings. You were very thankful to have a roof over your head after all. You were thankful to have a reliable supply of food, and you were thankful to be in the aura of this warlord’s protection in the violent New World.

It was a compulsion by that point really, to repay him in even some small way.

So you sat up in your bed and got to work then and there, inspired just the way you supposed Giolla always spoke of being.

Your hands hardened as you summoned your power, yet also becoming fully transparent all at once while your fingers still moved nimbly.

You were a human made of glass.

Clear and flawless as your creation began to ebb from your own fingertips.

You could shape and alter it as easily as if it were molten. But you didn’t need heat to do this. Everything was still a part of you as you shaped one flower petal after another.

It became a large rose in full bloom. No stem, but the base of the flower was as wide as both of your palms put together soon enough. The candlelight’s glow in your room played through those rippling surfaces, casting prismatic reflections in every direction as you smiled.

But it still wasn’t special enough then. It wasn’t personal enough as you felt it needed a second element.

Which wasn’t easy. It took you multiple attempts actually as you tried to shape a bird nestled within this blooming rose.

A flamingo of course. But the neck was so slender, it kept drooping before you could harden it properly. And if you made it too hard, you were afraid it would hold tension and fracture before long.

So you compromised.

You let that flamingo rest its head, smoothing it with your still clear fingertips as you curved the neck down for the bird to lay its beak against its wing.

As if it were asleep. An elegant flamingo, content and peaceful in the bloom of a rose. The final glass was pristine in its clarity of course, with all the facets you’d created catching the light in such a way that it fully sparkled while you cupped it in your hands with admiration.

You loved it.

And the next day when you went into Doflamingo’s empty office as part of your regular task of filing his completed contracts for him, you left this gift on his desk while you took that stack of paperwork in exchange.

Yet you put no note with your gift. You didn’t even leave it in the center of his desk like a focal point, as you would never be that brazen or prideful.

No, you simply left it to the side. It could be little more than an ornate paper weight for all it mattered. He could discard it if he chose to.

And that would be alright. A gift was the receiver’s to do with as they wished after all.

But at least you now knew he would have a present. He would not be ignored on his own day.

And that thought made you very happy.

But hours passed easily within his palace. Neither Giolla, nor Trebol had any further special instructions for you that day. So by the time the sun had set again, you were alone once more in your bed.

Reading by candlelight as you often did. The palace library was available to any of the Donquixote crew, and its contents occupied you well in any downtime you found.

The story for tonight was interesting too, but not so different than those you’d read before. Just another handsome protagonist, and his rather oblivious lover to be.

It was quite predictable, but still enough to make you giggle once the two characters finally found themselves alone.

You knew exactly where this was going.

And you had been turning those pages just a bit faster in that anticipation before your small transponder snail suddenly awakened to startle you.

Of course you still answered immediately, expecting a late night order. Perhaps a request to join your fellow lower ranks in the underground harbor. Sometimes the pirates there got rowdy, trying to back out of prior agreements. But you were much less destructive than Trebol when restraining them.

“Yes?” You had answered in your calm way, ready for almost anything.

“Come to my office. Now.”

Anything but that as the young master’s impatient tone filled your ears instead.

“Yes, sir.” You said anyway.

The snail clicked, disconnecting from his side first as you dropped your book and practically leapt from the bed.

No one kept Doflamingo waiting.

So much so that you didn’t bother with shoes, or even changing.

You were barefoot, just in a nightgown that fluttered to your knees as you pulled a jacket on over it and hurried out and down the hall.

Your master’s office was on a higher floor. Always like ascending to where you would never truly belong as your feet took the staircase two steps at a time.

But there was no one else in the dark palace corridors. Nothing to speak of panic or a rallying of the troops at all to protect the island.

Yet as you pulled down on the golden door handles to open those carved double doors that led to his workspace, you had still expected to see more of the Donquixote crew.

Never once had you been here alone with him.

Until tonight.

“Close the doors.” He ordered.

And you still did so with no hesitation, then walking towards Doflamingo’s desk with your hands clasped subserviently in front of you below your waist.

You didn’t even ask for an explanation. You simply looked at him, awaiting further instruction.

But his large chair was pulled farther from his desk than normal. He was slouched back in it with his shirt fully open and oddly wrinkled.

One of his long legs was crossed over the other. But his foot was moving slightly, bouncing a little like letting out tension the rest of his body would not yet portray.

“Did you make this?” Doflamingo asked in such an odd tone, yet immediate and to the point as one of his fingers tapped the desk.

Your eyes finally broke away from him to look down at that glass rose you’d created with the flamingo still resting peacefully within the spread petals.

He had moved it dead center on his desk now.

“Yes, sir.” You answered simply, your voice still soft.

But that was when his posture changed.

“Why?” He asked you as he straightened up in his chair.

And you felt your hands tighten against one another. Yet, you were simple. You didn’t think ahead, or plan and strategize. Everything was only what it was and nothing more.

You always told the truth.

“I wanted to give you a gift. I’m thankful to be allowed to stay here, young master.”

And you saw his facial muscles contort slightly.

Like he didn’t know what expression to make.

“But today? You chose today to do this…” He sounded strangely unsure. Irritated too, as only one of his large hands easily scooped up that glass artwork that had taken both your palms to carefully hold.

“Yes.” You again answered honestly. “I wanted you to have something even if we aren’t allowed to celebrate.”

His brow furrowed. But you did not see any bulging vein. He wasn’t fully angry, not yet. He didn’t seem to know what to do.

And perhaps that was the root of this frustration.

“How old are you?” Doflamingo asked suddenly.

“Twenty.”

He muttered a curse under his breath at this seemingly unpleasant answer. And you saw his leg shift, that movement of his foot getting a little faster.

“Well…hoy tengo cuarenta años. Es demasiado.” He finally told you in return, switching briefly to the native language of this island as he frowned. Like he couldn’t admit this number out loud, to you or himself otherwise.

And his fingers were still moving over your gift, tracing all those edges while he held it.

“I’ve waited hours today…wondering what to do about this.” He said again then. “I even brought Violet in here earlier to try and alleviate it...” And he gestured unabashedly at the messy state of his clothing that you had noticed on first arrival.

But only then as his arm moved did you see the smear of dark lipstick against his rib cage beneath that open shirt.

And that was the very first thing that finally brought a tinge of heat to your face.

“It’s…just a gift, young master.”

“It isn’t.” He corrected you so surely that you lowered your head like a scolded pup.

And you heard the resulting growl which came from that too.

“You’re too damn innocent.” He lamented. “And I’m twice your fucking age now.”

Said as if this was somehow all your fault.

His crossed legs shifted again too, like he was struggling with himself. “You don’t even have a man in town, do you? You just sit alone in your room all the time…doing what exactly?”

“I read.” You felt that coil of embarrassment in your stomach now rising to meet the heat still creeping downward from your face.

But he scoffed, a much crueler noise. “And think about me as you do? Clearly you must.” He held the glass rose up higher then, almost as if it were indisputable evidence in this sudden trial against you.

He was starting to sound genuinely angry now.

“I’m sorry, young master.” You tried.

“You can’t do these things and expect no consequence.” Doflamingo chided you harshly, as if you really were a fool.

A fool that he owned.

“Come here.” He commanded you in that renewed authority as he set your gift back to the center of his desk.

You followed the gesture of his fingers without question. He didn’t even have to use his strings as you walked around his desk to stand before his chair.

“You can’t show me affection and think nothing would come of it…” He warned only briefly.

And it felt too dangerous to try and apologize further. You were silent as your eyes watched only those red lenses of his sunglasses.

You did know enough not to dare look away from him now.

“I’m not going to fuck you. But you are going to let me get this feeling out.” He said darkly. “So just be quiet and we’ll be done soon enough. Then you can go back to your paper fantasies instead.”

There was not even an implication of wanting your permission in his mocking words either. He was telling you what was about to happen just before those long legs abruptly uncrossed and you were pulled between them.

And you still gasped as the clothed erection he’d been hiding this entire time now pressed up hard against your bottom in his lap.

He didn’t even give you time to process. He was already thrusting that sharp bulge against your nightgown within moments.

His large hands fisted within that same thin fabric beneath your jacket as he groaned quietly.

You felt him inhale deeply next, taking in your scent as he curved his spine enough to lean down into your smaller frame.

It was like being encapsulated, a monstrous snake constricting itself around a small prey when the smallest flick of wet met the side of your face simultaneously.

Just the very tip of his tongue, only a tiny taste of you before before those large hands tightened on your hips.

Doflamingo pulled you harder against his own, bruising your skin beneath your clothes you were sure while his pace quickened even further.

“You smell so good.” He practically hissed against you. “You’re so soft too…”

His long fingers easily squeezed into your thighs as well, even as he didn’t release your hips.

And you must still be in some sort of shock really. Because somehow you didn’t feel afraid.

You just let him do it.

It was his birthday. He was your master.

And you were what he wanted, in this moment at least.

He never lifted your nightgown though. He never opened his pants.

But you could feel his body heat, and his desperation. A shame that outweighed any you should have had.

It was his loneliness. It was his need.

And it was mercy towards you.

Your master was giving you his rarest gift in return.

He could have taken your virginity here and now. He could have shattered you with his haki on only a whim, logia user or not.

Doflamingo was fully in control of you, and honestly just enough in control of himself that he did not truly harm you.

His breath only quickened as time seemed to draw to a standstill for you. It felt both like forever, and not long enough at all.

And still you didn’t feel wronged.

The humiliation was only his instead, whenever you finally felt him stiffen further, grunting before he shuddered and that new heat blossomed against the underside of your thighs.

You were still sitting tightly on his bulge, and the wetness of his release wicked through those meager layers of fabric so easily.

He’d fully cum on himself within his pants. The king of Dressrosa had done this in a private moment with you, then hugging his arms around your waist as he rested briefly, recovering from that surprisingly heavy orgasm.

“Happy birthday to me…” Doflamingo chuckled despite himself, still sounding a bit overwhelmed in this instance while he gradually came down.

“Happy birthday, young master.” You answered tentatively, almost in a whisper.

But he allowed it now. He even squeezed you a little more. And it didn’t feel fully sexual then. He wanted something to hold onto.

He wanted comfort.

“Thank you.” The Heavenly Demon said to you, the young one who was surely only another of his many pets.

But he meant it.

And maybe by his next cumpleaños he would be able to do more. Maybe by then you would be ready to be more than just the one he wanted both to consume and to hold tonight.

Maybe you’d been the oblivious lover to be all along.

Regardless, whatever happened now, you wouldn’t be laughing at those characters in the books any longer.

If you’d even be reading them much at all. Because you might have someone else needing all of your free time now.

Someone far more sensitive than he’d ever let on as he kept you in his lap while he reached for your artwork again, moving it back closer to the edge of the desk so it better caught the light from the small chandelier above.

You watched your master smile, his body relaxing fully before he bent down enough again to rest his chin on your shoulder.

This was just another flamingo, resting his head with his newest flower.

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! 🎂🦩

111 notes · View notes

im-ovulating · 2 years ago

Text

(A/n: Disclaimer- I don't know French; I took Mandarin in high school instead lmao. I asked my sister who took it (she failed but google wasn't helping😂) and she said to default to the male version of ma chère/mon cher if the gender isn't stated, so blame her if it's wrong lol)

Word Count: 1,724

Summary- Everyone knows that some actions are just objectively more attractive than others. But which of these actions represent the brothers?

Warnings: Allusions to spicy moments in Mammon's, Asmo's and Belphegor's

Age Rating: Pg 13

Obey Me Brothers x Things That Are Attractive

------------------------

Lucifer as- Pulling you in by the waist:

"There you go. Just like that." Lucifer guides.

"I feel ridiculous," you say as you step to the side with your right foot and slide the left back into position.

He had taken it upon himself to teach you how to dance. Which, on the surface isn't bad in itself, but when you dig a little deeper and find the two left feet you were 'blessed' with, it becomes slightly more daunting.

"You don't look it," He assures you as he leads you through an improvised spin.

Coming back in, your hands find their place on his shoulders as you waltz around the empty ballroom. He dips you low, arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you upright once more. Though, instead of resuming the steps, Lucifer keeps you in place; his arm tightening around you until what little space between you is gone.

Your hands are pinned against his chest as you look up to him. There's a look in his eyes that you can't quite decipher, and you don't know if you should try to.

"Despite your self-acclaimed 'two left feet', I think it's safe to say you have successfully learned the waltz." You can feel his minty breath fan your face with how close his is.

"What a shame," you tease. "Looks like you won't be needing to teach me anymore."

You earn a soft 'hah' as he leans impossibly closer with a smirk that shouldn't have you feeling the way you do. "On the contrary. You'll be learning the Salsa next."

Mammon as- Pinning your hands above your head:

"No!" You yell as you're knocked down.

"Gotcha!" Mammon cheers as he reaches for your phone.

He has you on the bed, legs on either side of you as he attempts to get rid of the picture of him sleeping.

"C'mon! You look so cute in it!" Your attempt to reason falls on deaf ears as he fails to snatch your phone again.

"I'm literally droolin' ya dummy!"

In a last-ditch attempt to preserve the photo, you stretch your arm above your head as his grapples you for it.

The end result is both your wrists in one of Mammon's hands as his other works on deleting the picture. He tosses the phone to the side once he's done.

"You learn your lesson yet? Don't mess with The Great Mammon!" He smirks down at you, chest heaving from exertion.

The sight of you pinned under him, hands held above your head as you look up at him has him gulping. His free hand comes up to grip the side of your jaw, tilting your head up just the slightest.

"I think I should make sure ya learned yer lesson~"

Leviathan as- Spinning hugs:

"Yes!" Leviathan cheers from beside you as the monster finally falls after what seems like hours.

He had called you to his room to help with a level of a new game he got. What he didn't tell you was that it was the final boss, and it was only a P1 game.

So, without any introduction or in-depth explanation you were thrust into an insanely difficult level. If you're being honest, you were kind of just spamming the controller and hoping for the best. What you didn't expect was actually making progress and killing the damned thing.

Levi jumps up as he celebrates. You can't help but laugh at his antics as you're pulled to join him. Deciding there's no harm -you're in his room with the door shut, who's gonna see?- you play along. Cheering and jumping alongside him.

You let out a yelp as he wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up. Your yelp turns to laughter when he twirls you around before nuzzling into your neck.

"I can't believe you actually did it! I've been trying to beat that thing for days!" He's quick to pull you into a kiss, face bright red when you separate. Your foreheads rest together as any residual laughter fades.

Satan as- Lifting you to reach something:

"Satannnnnn!" You whine. "I need helppppp!"

You can hear his unamused sigh from a couple sections down.

"What could you possibly need help with? We're in the library for hell's sake..." His voice gets steadily closer as he makes his way to the bookshelf you're in front of.

He rounds the corner to see you on your tiptoes as you try to reach a book. You look to him for help but only receive a deadpan.

"Really?" He crosses his arms. "There is literally a step ladder 10 feet from you."

"Yeah, but now you're only 4 feet from me."

Satan turns to walk away but you're quick to grab his arm.

"Please? You and I both know that with my luck, I'll probably fall off the thing." You both know the only reason is because you want to annoy him.

"Not my problem." He starts to walk again, only this time you rush in front of him.

"But books read better when they're from you." You got a small huff of amusement so that's something.

"Do they now?" Wow, he's actually playing along.

"Yup," you nod as believable as you can.

There's a second of silence before he breaks. "Fine. Which one do you want?"

Dragging him over, you expect him to reach up and snag the title off of the shelf. What actually happens is that he places both hands on either side of your waist and lifts you until you're eye level with the book.

Shaking off the shock, you quickly grab it before he decides to drop you.

"Thanks," You mutter when he sets you down, face hot both with embarrassment and at the display of strength.

Satan simply hums in acknowledgment as he walks away, leaving you standing clutch your book to your chest.

Asmodeus as- Neck/jaw kisses:

"Darling~" Asmo drawls from his bed, head hanging off the side to look at you.

"Yes?" You sigh as he drones for your attention for the nth time.

You need to get this essay done before tomorrow, but the Avatar of lust doesn't want to make it that easy for you. When he had invited you to his room to 'study' you should have seen through the fib but you hadn't. So here you are, stuck trying to get work done with a perpetually horny demon vying for your attention.

"I'm bored, mon cher." He rolls off the bed and hangs himself on you, arms over your shoulders, chest against your back and chin resting on your shoulder.

"And I'm trying to finish this."

"C'mon..." His head lifts from its position to nuzzle into your neck. "You're not the least bit tempted to take even the smallest of breaks?"

His soft lips graze your skin with each syllable. A feather light, kiss presses itself against the column of your neck.

"Asmo, I really need to work on this..." Despite your words, your head still lilts to the side allowing him to trail his kisses up to your jaw.

"You know you want to~" Asmodeus chimes, voice sending vibrations through you. "Take a break." He presses another kiss to your jaw.

"Just for a few minutes..." Another kiss.

"Ugh." You move to save your progress. "Fine. 15 minutes and then I get back to work."

"That's all I need, my dear." You can hear the smirk.

Beelzebub as- Licking something off their finger:

"You can't eat that, yet!" You cackle as Beelzebub sticks his finger in the cake batter.

"But it looks good..." He's looking at you, finger still in the mixing bowl. You can't help the face you make when he says that. The sugar hasn't even been added yet, there's no way it would taste good.

You tell him so, only to receive silence as he takes his finger out and slowly moves it to his mouth.

"That's just going to taste like flour and eggs, Beel." You try to reason.

He looks you right in the eye as his lips close around his batter-covered digit. Beelzebub keeps looking at youas he sucks the liquid off his finger. With a *pop*, his finger comes out clean and it's all you can do to not grimace at what the taste must be.

"It's good." He says.

Beel dips his finger in the batter once more, only to hold it out to you. "Taste it."

The corners of your mouth pull down as you lean away. "I think I'm good, actually."

"Humor me?"

He's holding your gaze as he continues to offer the batter to you. Looking between his finger and face, you concede. He'll just keep trying until you taste it, so you say:

"Fine, but I'm not swallowing it."

With that you grab his wrist to stabilize as you tentatively lick at the batter. Surprisingly, it's not bad -Beel must have added the sugar when you weren't looking. Upon seeing your reaction, Beelzebub pushes his finger to your lips.

Deciding it's easier to just play along, you let the digit enter, maintaining eye contact. Your tongue swirls around the digit, getting all of the batter off.

With one final suck, he slides his finger out of your mouth, fingertip resting against your lip before dropping and pulling your bottom lip with it a bit as it goes.

The kitchen is silent as you hold his heavy gaze.

Belphegor as- Lazy morning make outs:

Your lips slot together slow and steady in the bath of golden light that is Belphegor's bed.

Both of you had just woken and, in an attempt to neither wake up or slip back into the sweet embrace of sleep (damned RAD classes...), you'd somehow found yourselves lip locked.

Your legs are tangled under the blankets as the two of you move in sync. Nothing else important enough to draw your attention away from the other.

His hand is in your hair, keeping you close as he bites on your bottom lip. The noise you let loose enough for him to make it his mission to drag more sweet sounds from you. Your own hands come up to push on Belphegor's chest to until he's lying on his back with you laying on top of him. His other arm slides up your back, a grunt leaving his lips when you roll your hips down.

"Fuck-"

A knock interrupts your moment.

"Get up. You're not going to be late again." Lucifer's voice is muffled by the door, but it doesn't lessen just how over everything he sounds.

#lucifer x mc #mammon x mc #leviathan x mc #satan x mc #asmodeus x mc #beelzebub x mc #belphegor x mc #obey me x reader

1K notes · View notes

welcometothejianghu · 21 days ago

Text

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 致命游戏 / The Spirealm.

The Spirealm is a 2024 drama about two young men who fall in love while basically playing a whole bunch of horror-themed escape rooms that can for-real kill you.

This show/book combo has gripped my entire ass. The second I knew I wanted to watch this, almost immediately after it started airing, I muted the tag. I was so right to do this, because this is worth not spoiling yourself about. If you are a Guardian fan in particular, you owe it to yourself to watch this for reasons I think will become clear as you go about watching it.

So! If all you need to know is that I think you need this show in your life, great! You don't even need to scroll down to the end of the post for the links; go to Viki and press play. In case you need more convincing than that, though, I'm going to give you here five reasons to watch it that are as spoilerless as I can make them.

Before we start, though, I'm going to take a moment to note that I had to torrent the video files so I could make screenshots of my own, and if I hadn't, this would have been a much uglier rec post than the others I've done. Not only were there not many promotional materials or official stills released, the show itself barely stayed up two hours on iQiyi, and that's because this drama is a...

1. (Barely) Censored Adaptation Of Same-sex Original Work

Ah, you know that MyDramaList tag well, don't you? Yeah, the original novel, Kaleidoscope of Death (which has a rec post of its own!), is supernatural story about grief and loss built on the love story between the two male leads. Now of course you know already that a mainstream Chinese television adaptation of something like that is going to straighten up everything and turn the horror romance into the sci-fi platonic love of besties.

...But damn, folks, it's still real gay.

Ling Jiushi, the sweet-faced newbie, is a canonical virgin and loving cat dad who plays the mysterious video game once, then finds himself suddenly able to enter the game worlds bodily -- and of course, if you die in the game, you die in real life. He's pretty much doomed, until he meets...

Ruan Lanzhu, the cool-as-a-cucumber veteran of the door worlds, who falls pretty much immediately for the completely oblivious Ling Jiushi, then has to spend the rest of the series consumed with lust while trying to keep him and a couple other dipshits alive.

The show preserves so many overtly gay beats and declarations of affection from the novel, to the point where it's just this side of suggesting that the romance is actually, textually happening just offscreen, every time the camera cuts away. I am forever grateful that working with Zhu Yilong on Reunion seems to have perfected sweet baby Junjie's ability to look at a man with nothing but love in his eyes.

I adore so much the dynamic they have, one where a man who has never told the truth a day in his life encounters a man so sincere and naive that you cannot seduce him with anything but absolute honesty or he's never going to get it.

There are three (3) separate door worlds where they share a bed, and in every one of them, they both sleep with their shoes on. Like the absolute freaks they both are.

2. It's puzzle solvin' time!

So if you've read some of my rec posts before, you know that I am critical of stories that center around cases that are unfollowable, uninteresting, or both (e.g., Mysterious Lotus Casebook and White Cat Legend). I am therefore thrilled to tell you that the door worlds are actually (largely) thoughtful mysteries with reasonable solutions, where you care about what's happening and why.

The way each door world is set up is that you have to solve the puzzle to find a key and unlock the door that will let you leave. One of the challenges is each world's door ghost, who has the key and does not want to give it up. The other challenge is the world-specific set of taboo conditions, where violating them means the door ghost can kill you -- and you are not always told what those taboo conditions are. That means that solving a door involves 1) figuring out what will insta-kill you, 2) not doing that, 3) finding where the hell the exit door is, 4) placating and/or scamming the door ghost long enough to snatch the key from them, and 5) running like hell to the exit door with that key before the door ghost fucks you up about it.

As the show goes on, you get introduced to the concept of door-passing shepherds, which are experienced door-finishers who take through lower-level players, building them up in the process. A lot of these shepherds work for organizations, such as the one Ruan Lanzhu runs. And a lot of them are ready to reach the exit by climbing over everyone else's corpses.

That's part of the fun of the setup: You're not just thrown in alone. You show up with a random number of other players, some with very different levels of experience. At least one of you will make it out; not everyone will. So you can add a step 6) to the list above, which is: surviving all the other players who will gleefully stab you in the back in order to be the first player out the door.

The door worlds are also lovely. They all feel like sets -- and I know that's a weird thing to say about places that are literal sets, but they manage it feel it even on film. In fact, even the show's uses of clunky-ass greenscreen feel appropriate, because of how unreal everything is supposed to be. Everything looks like a dream, which is only amplified by how beautifully everything's shot.

(What's that you say? You say the guy who directed this was the editor on Infernal Affairs? No kidding.)

From a fandom perspective, what's great here is that even though there are technically just twelve doors, there are canonically way more than twelve door worlds out there. That means that whatever worlds you want to create are valid. The best pieces of fanfic I've read are the ones that dream up their own door worlds, complete with taboo conditions, key puzzles, and world-specific perks that lead to gay sex, because come on.

3. A good middle ground of horror

So at this point you are perhaps wondering: How scary is it?

And the answer is, kind of as scary as you're willing to let your mind go with it. Everything has been science-fictioned real hard, including the video game premise that "explains" what's happening with these doors. It relies on dread way more than jumpscares. The blood/gore/gross content is extremely low, again on account of Chinese content censorship. Most icky things are done with offscreen sounds and shadows. I'm pretty squeamish about pain and injury, and I can't recall a time I had to look too long away from the screen.

However, that means the show works some real conceptual horror. That picture up there is of a man forcing three young girls to hold raw eggs unbroken in their mouths. There's nothing about that image that's not technically G-rated, and it's awful in context.

The best bits are when the monsters don't need a lick of CG to become horrors. They cast a contortionist in the Waverly Hills door world, and she absolutely earned her keep.

I have a lot of critiques about how the show handles things, especially in terms of defanging the horror elements (which it does), but one thing I think it absolutely gets right is that it understands that ghost stories are first and foremost tragedies. That's a thing I've always liked about Asian horror in particular, how often you wind up siding with the ghost. Yes, sure, she tried to strangle you with her hair, but have you ever considered she's the real victim here? There's always a bit of a calculus: Can you negotiate with the door ghost, or do you just need to stab them and run? The Spirealm prefers negotiation, and frankly, so do I.

So yeah, it's about as scary as you let it be. If your horror tolerance is low, watch it in a well-lit room and focus on the unreality of it, and you'll be okay. If you're looking for something genuinely spooky, spend some time thinking about the existential dread of the entire situation, and that'll be good for a couple good spine tingles.

4. The Obsidian Family (& Friends!)

In a show where death is always an option, you have to have characters where you actually care if they live or die. Fortunately, all your allies are charming and loveable enough that you are going to be real upset every time they get put in danger!

Obsidian is one of the organizations I mentioned earlier. It's run by Ruan Lanzhu, and it includes a cool and collected doctor, a mom friend who cooks for everybody, a guy who's maybe not having the best mental health day of his life, and two identical twins who could not be more different if they tried. They all live in the same amazing big fancy house, which is where Ling Jiushi too goes to live when he joins the group. They have big family meals, they look after one another, they hang out together -- I mean, if this is the kind of setup you love, then you will love this setup.

There are also plenty of allies who aren't technically part of Obsidian, but who are our friends nonetheless, and who come over to hang out in the Obsidian house from time to time. Some of them are rivals turned friends, some of them are clients turned friends, and some of them were just friends all along! Surely nothing bad will happen to any of them, and they'll all live happily ever after, right? ...Right?

5. Toast and Chestnut!

Of course, the true heroes of the show are Toast the Corgi and Chestnut the Kitty.

Animals are so good.

Truly, I love that one of Ling Jiushi's defining characteristics is that he is a Cat Dad. He is a simple man with simple needs, and one of those needs is to pet his kitty or he'll explode.

caveat: Some thoroughly bad adaptation choices

Yeah, so I keep talking about the novel (and talk even more about the novel in its own rec post), but I assure you, you don't need to have read the novel to feel the degree to which this is an adaptation -- and one that's had its rough, nasty, spooky, gay edges all sanded off in the desperate hope of ever seeing daylight.

Now, sometimes I consider batshit nonsense janky creative decisions to be a selling point for a show (see: Mysterious Lotus Casebook, Legend of Fei, Sand Sea)! In this case, however, I'm going to have to take points off for how incoherently bad they are here. We're talking Psych-Hunter levels of Why Would You Do That-- and the answer, as always, comes down to how you write around what censorship won't allow on television.

The novel says the doors are supernatural. The show says they're a virtual-reality computer game. Now, on the surface, this move sort of makes sense -- you can't have ghosts, but you can have computer games that make digital ghosts, which, sure, okay. But then the problem quickly becomes that the plot of the novel is not remotely built to support a sci-fi premise, so a lot of things have to be grafted awkwardly on. Like, say, a bad guy who stole his corporate logo from Even Worse Twitter. Or a game-designing bestie whose face is never seen. Or [late-stage spoilers about a major character].

The eventual explanation is that this whole setup is a righteous and good game that has somehow been corrupted by evil game-designing capitalists from the West, and that's why it can abduct you in broad daylight and kill you if you fail it. There are good people who want to purify (???) the game, and evil people who want to make money off the game. And I don't mind spoiling you for that part, because it's garbage nonsense. You will be deeply unsatisfied with the show's half-assed attempt at resolving it all. (You may, however, have that disappointment tempered with the amazing concurrent display of heterosexuality that is apologizing to your best bro by coding his perfect man for him. The Spirealm is a land of contrasts.)

Look, I consider myself a mild to moderate socialist, and even I was yawning and making jerk-off motions every time someone started to wax halfheartedly poetic about how evil American capitalism is. Like, yeah, but not because some college student made a vile and wretched video game that eats people! This show is a critique of capitalism like a five-year-old crying because he doesn't get ice cream before bed is a critique of authoritarianism.

And even this, I can't be too mad at it about, you know? I just assume that this was some absolute Hail Mary attempt at getting past censorship -- you know, maybe if we make all the right "grr, USA bad!" noises, they'll let our gay ghost story slip by? And it worked! I mean, just barely, but it did.

So yeah, fair warning that the Spirealm is a show that, if you love it (and I do), you will have to love despite some glaring flaws that haunt it all the way through and hit especially hard during what should otherwise have been an amazing endgame. But hey, we're c-drama fans! We're good at loving janky things, right?

Want to enter the World of Doors?

As I said at the start of the post, Viki's got it -- and only Viki. I'm not sure what circumstances got it up on Viki after iQiyi pulled it, but I'm glad. Watch it quick, before Viki changes its mind!

Hug him! Hug that boy!

#the spirealm #致命��戏 #kaleidoscope of death #rec post #i made this

73 notes · View notes

tauforged · 2 months ago

Text

if we assume warframes have some amount of biological function rather than being meat suits, it would only stand that in the process of becoming protoframes, the hex would not only change appearance-wise but the way their bodies FUNCTION would change as well as their behavior. I don't have solid ideas for everyone YET, BUT i'll elaborate on what i have so far below...

we don't have a lot of solid info about how cyte-09's kit would work, but being that he's a sniper-centric frame, it makes sense that quincy would start to subconsciously adapt to that 'ambush predator' function, in terms of behavior and also metabolism.

instinctually he feels safest/most comfortable when he's somewhere High Up and Isolated. he likes a vantage point, not much else to it. randomly feeling compelled to climb on top of shit and Perch even outside of patrols while just hanging out because it just feels more secure

bradymetabolic -- his 'natural' state is objectively slowed down in comparison to a normal human being, his resting heartrate is slow his body temp tends to be lower and he can go considerably longer in between meals if he isn't actively making an effort to eat on a schedule. his body is rewiring itself to be best suited towards finding a vantage point and lying in wait, staying as still as possible and expending as little energy as he can until the moment is just right.

HOWEVER, the moment something triggers him to act fast (usually in combat situations although its technically a 'prey response') his metabolism will kick into overdrive and he strikes FAST. for the brief period where he's active, heart rate and body temp shoot up and he burns through however much energy he's been storing in the interim. once the adrenaline wears off, though, he's back to business as usual. if he's in a high-energy situation for an extended amount of time, though, he runs the risk of exhausting himself, hyperventilating, or overheating.

tends to blink less than it seems like he should and picks up a habit of unintentionally holding his breath. trigger finger twitches unintentionally when he's focused on something/someone in a way that kinda resembles how dart frogs will tap their toes while hunting or how the raptors in jurassic park click their claws on the ground. develops and exaggerated freeze response -- when something startles him when he isnt expecting it, he goes completely stock still in an attempt to 'blend in' and wait out the threat.

on the opposite end, amir adopts a fucking hummingbird metabolism. he runs hot and fast and needs to eat a lot more than you would expect because his body is CONSTANTLY. GOING. he's somewhere int he middle between regular human and obligate nectar-eater -- he processes sugars WAY faster/easier than normal and is pretty dependent on them for energy in the immediate moment, although he does still have the capacity to store longer-lasting energy for later rather than having to eat every thirty minutes lest he starve to death. the more active he is, the more demand is on him, though and he is VERY fucking active. he's built to be on the move 24/7 now, and gets really antsy when 'at rest' because even when wholly idle his body burns energy like a motherfucker and it makes him restless. constantly craving sweet things because his body is demanding sugar NOW or we are going to DIE (this is not true, he's mostly being dramatic, but he DOES feel adverse effects from lack of food or water much sooner than he normally would)

can take short rests that are basically like power naps where he sleeps "normal", but when he actually Sleep sleeps he goes into a torpor state to preserve his energy, slowing down and dropping his body temp and it takes him between 20min to an hour to actually Wake Up completely. does not like doing this but while his body is meant to be constantly moving, his brain still runs on a human schedule and he Needs to get actual sleep. he needs to hard reboot every couple days or else he starts fighting demons. you know how it is.

aside from inconvenient desires to eat raw meat/random animals (imagining excal as an obligate carnivore just feels right), arthur isn't too METABOLICALLY different from the average human, but behaviorally he is fighting for his life. in contrast to quincy preferring open, elevated spaces, arthur is compelled to seek out dark tight enclosed spaces and hole up like a sick animal looking for a place to die (he's fine, but the way he's always stressing out crosses some wires in his brain and makes him Feel like he's dying)

you can tell when arthur and quincy have been getting on eachothers nerves or arguing because they will Immediately retreat to their respective territories to Sulk (quincy starts climbing on top of the stage light scaffolding, arthur is in the security office trying to find a dignified way to crawl under a table). it's objectively really funny to witness. they both do this when theyre in bad moods but when theyre BOTH doing it the chance of it being coincidence is very very low

both arthur and eleanor are VERY catlike, not really in a cutesy fun 'uwu nya' way, but in a 'bites people and knocks shit over and gets random bursts of energy at ungodly hours and feels compelled to chase things that move like prey' way . eleanor leans into this and does not care, she is biting you as a show of affection and you WILL accept that. arthur hates it and suppresses it at all times. catboy instincts calling to him like the green goblin mask 24/7

in tandem with the 'aoi's teeth are more like a squid beak and are dark in color because they're reinforced with metal' hc ive discussed before, i feel like she might feel the urge to try and Consume metallics somehow to feed that process. or maybe her constant melting down and playing with metal is how she assimilates it. not sure yet

i have not many ideas regarding trinity or lettie yet because i almost never play trin and dont have a good handle on how her kit would translate to biological functions LMFAOO im so sorry girl i love you so much but im still chewing on this one. welcome to ideas!

aaand of course, the conversation that started it all:

and the grand finale: bullying arthur

#thank the lord for the extended image limit on desktop LMFAO #but. yeah. sorry for the novel . i just think theyre neat!#warframe 1999 #quincy isaacs #arthur nightingale #amir beckett #eleanor nightingale #I REALLY BADLY WANTED TO INCLUDE AOI AND LETTIE MORE BUT IM STILL CHEWING ON IDEAS FOR THEM AND IF I WAIT ANYLONGER TO POST THIS ILL LOSE I #SORRY GIRLS

90 notes · View notes

rebelspykatie · 1 year ago

Text

Soulmate AU Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Four | Part Five

Steve doesn’t see him, bent over the hood of the car, elbow deep and sweat dripping from his forehead despite the cool breeze. He makes a frustrated noise and there’s an ominous clanging sound. Eddie’s never been good at sitting still, at minding his own business, especially when it comes to Steve. He feels pulled towards him, wanting to help, at his breaking point with this tension between them.

Maybe it’s the universe intervening or maybe Eddie has no self preservation skills when he stops behind Steve and asks, “Need a hand?”

Steve startles so bad he hits his head on the hood and curses. When he turns around, he stops and sucks in a sharp breath. “Eddie.” He looks back at the hood of the car with eyebrows furrowed. “How hard did I hit my head?”

“I can help.” Eddie moves closer and peers into the car.

“With my head?” Steve is rubbing at it now and Eddie’s beginning to wonder if he’s concussed.

“The car.”

“Oh.” Steve steps aside, giving him a strange look, and lets Eddie work on it, undoing whatever Steve thought he was fixing and addressing the real problem. Steve’s too quiet. And Eddie’s never been good with silence, either.

“I’m sorry I ruined your life.” Eddie says, so quiet he’s surprised Steve even heard it. It’s not what he meant to say. It tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought. Something that’s been on his mind since Steve came back to school looking like the thought of Eddie being his soulmate ripped his bright future right out of his hands.

He doesn’t pull himself up to look at Steve. He can’t. Just stays bent over, working on fixing the car, and screaming inside his own head at his stupidity. He can’t even get this first conversation right, no wonder Steve wants nothing to do with him.

“Ruined my life?” Eddie does finally turn around at Steve’s tone. The way it sounded like a question, like he doesn’t know exactly what Eddie’s referring to.

“I know my name’s on your wrist. I know it’s probably the last name you wanted there. Fate is a cruel bitch attaching you to me like that. I’m sorry things didn’t work out with Wheeler and that you’ll have to lie to everyone about whose name is there for the rest of your life. You deserve better than that.”

“You-” Steve rubs the back of his head, blinking slowly, “you think you ruined my life?”

“Not showing up to school for a week was a pretty good indicator that I’m not what you expected,” he shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant even though he’s dying inside.

“Is that why you didn’t talk to me for a year after my name appeared on your wrist?” Steve glances down at the cuff on his arm. “Because you think I deserve better?”

Eddie nods and Steve scoffs.

“So you made that decision for both of us? What about what I wanted?”

“You were dating Nancy and we’ve never talked in four years of attending the same school. You’re a jock and I’m just a freak. Why would the golden boy of Hawkins want anything to do with me?”

“I’m so sick of people thinking that they know what’s best for me!” Steve yells and Eddie jerks back. He’s never seen Steve snap like that. “Every single person in my life thinks they should have a say in who I should be with, but what about me? I waited eighteen years to find out what name was going to appear on my wrist. I didn’t care if it was Nancy, Tommy H, or you, or anyone else. I just wanted to find out who that person was, so I could prove to myself that fate isn’t just a bunch of bullshit like it is with my parents.”

“Steve, I-”

“I just wanted someone to love me.”

There’s a charged silence that hangs in the air, only the sound of Steve’s heavy breathing echoing in the empty parking lot.

“Is that all you see me as? King Steve?” Steve spits out the moniker with venom. And he sounds mad, but his face is doing this thing that Eddie’s never seen before, eyes glassy and lower lip trembling. He looks ready to come apart at the seams.

Eddie takes a moment to think about it and he already knows what his answer is. He’s had a whole year to watch Steve, unbeknownst to him. Steve’s never bullied anyone as far as Eddie knows, but it’s more than that, he’s kind and soft in ways that most of the school doesn’t recognize. Eddie’s seen it from the privacy of his trailer as Steve pulls up to take care of the Mayfield girl when her mom’s on a three day bender. Or that time he caught him carting around a whole car full of preteens that dragged him into the arcade like he was their big brother.

His traitorous little heart has been falling for him this whole time. Quietly picking out all the ways they could fit together, even if Steve never wanted any of this. Eddie had resigned himself to yearning, to imagining a life together that was just out of reach. He doesn’t dare to hope that he’ll have more than that.

“No, you’re more than King Steve.” He nervously fiddles with a strand of hair, pulling it in front of his face. “Or, you’ve never actually been King Steve, I don’t know, man. You’re just so- uh, so wholesome and I’m this.” He waves a greasy hand at his ripped jeans and handmade hellfire shirt. “I was afraid you’d hate me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called wholesome before,” Steve huffs out a laugh, face softening with Eddie’s honesty. “You’re not a freak, Eddie. And I don’t think we’re all that different.”

“That’s a good one.”

“No really,” Steve takes a step closer and it takes all of Eddie’s willpower not to turn tail and run. “You were right about one thing, the universe is a cruel bitch, but I don’t think that it gets it wrong very often. I was afraid that you’d think I’m boring or annoying, like you always yelled about in the cafeteria. Just another dumb jock. Thought you’d laugh at all my silly, romantic notions. But I do want those things.”

“You want romance…with me?”

They stare at each other for a moment before Steve nods.

This can’t be happening. He must be having an out of body experience.

“I’d like to try, at least. It may not always be perfect, or easy, but I want to try if you’re open to the idea.” Steve looks determined, nodding once like he’s made up his mind. “Eddie Munson, can I take you out on a date?”

Part Four

Thank you so much to everyone for the overwhelming support on the first two parts of this. I am truly blown away by it all. I’ve never had anything take off like this and there’s so many of you (hi, thank you for following). There were so many requests for tagging on the last post that there’s no way I could fulfill them all, so I’m so so sorry to anyone that might’ve been expecting that. I decided just to not tag anyone to be fair.

Hope that this eases your broken little hearts some, and get ready for some extra fun fluffy goodness soon.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #katie writes

592 notes · View notes

laurfilijames · 1 year ago

Text

Breathe

Part 3

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 5.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Unprotected intercourse. Swearing. Public sex. Oral sex (M receiving). Too many mentions of his sweaty body 🫠💦 Slight dom/sub dynamics.

Summary: You're back at the gym attempting to distract yourself from thinking of Will, your conversation from the night before weighing on your mind, but it turns out Captain Miller has even less restraint when it comes to you than he thought he did.

A/N: The smut is finally here, and it's really long. That's what she said.

Part 1 Part 2

---

Coming to the gym at this time of day was bliss. Hardly anyone was ever here - having already rushed after work so they could get home to their families - leaving you without distraction to focus on your routine and enjoy this time for yourself.

It seemed like when you were here you could really shut your mind off and just be; no work, no stress, nothing filtering in or out that was worth a second thought.

Lately it had been very different, though, and today was the worst out of all of them. You still couldn't keep count of your reps to save your life, your mind completely occupied by Will. Getting through work was bad enough, every thought regarding your job followed by one of him, and now you knew it was impossible to rid him from your mind.

You did your best not to continuously glance around the gym in hopes of seeing him, but there was no use denying you were craving to lay your eyes on him again especially after last night, his powerful words playing on repeat.

“I want you.”

Regardless of wanting you, he had made it clear that he wasn't acting on it, so you needed to do your best to lay these feelings to rest and work on self-preservation.

You placed the dumbbells you had just finished using back on the rack and grabbed a disinfectant towel to wipe them down, switching out for a heavier pair in hopes that struggling through a little pain would help set you straight.

Just as you vowed to forget all the ways he made you feel, you caught in the reflection of the mirror in front of you the Miller brothers walking in through the front doors.

Blue eyes instantly locked with yours, and the slight smile tugging at his perfect lips had your heart leaping into your throat and your stomach fluttering with excitement and arousal as it always did whenever he was around.

You cursed to yourself when he started sauntering over right when you started into your first round, doing your best to focus on your form and not let his presence disturb you too much.

"Hey," he drawled, placing his hands on his hips.

"Hey," you panted, attempting to limit the amount of effort showing on your face.

"You been here long?" Will asked, looking around before peering at you from under those long, blond lashes.

"Uhh, not really, no," you huffed, dropping your weights and smoothing your hair out of your face, taking the opportunity for a rest before your next set. "I'm almost done with this and was going to do the stairmaster before doing a long stretch. I'm still sore from the other day."

You gave a small laugh, watching the side of his mouth turn upward, his eyebrows lifting in amusement.

"Maybe I'll join you for that stretch," he spoke, his voice low. "I've gotta help Benny and then he's heading out for training."

"Well, you know where to find me."

"Okay." He winked at you, sending a pulsing need straight to your core, the sight of his ass in his shorts as he walked away not helping your case.

In a fury, you picked up your dumbbells and powered through your last sets with more energy than you had ever had, putting your frustrations to good use.

The music in your ears was louder than it should be, using it to drown out all the thoughts you were having, each step on the circulating, automatic stairs working to take you to a place that maybe didn't include him. It was helpful that the cardio machines were all facing away from the weights, so even though you knew he was somewhere behind you, you had the view of the night sky and streetlights to look at instead of him and his brother lifting what always looked like more than double your bodyweight.

Punishing yourself for what crossed your mind after that, you pushed the button to increase the incline as well as the speed, needing to use this burnout to displace the buzzing in your mind.

After another five minutes you turned off the machine, feeling the effects on your legs and glutes tenfold as you lowered your feet back onto the floor, the tremble in them almost too much as you were forced to climb back up to wipe down the stairmaster.

As you walked toward the open section where you would perform your stretches, you glanced over to see the Miller's hard at work; sweat dripping off of Will's nose as he spotted Benny through a heavy set of bench presses.

"Okay, that's good, Benny," Will told his brother, helping him replace the barbell back on the rack after he completed his final rep. "You're gonna be too gassed to spar tonight."

Benny sat up and checked his watch, "Yeah, I should get over there anyway. You hanging out here for a bit?"

Will craned his neck to look over a machine, spotting you on the floor with your legs in a precarious position.

"Yeah, man, I'll see you at home," he nodded.

"I'm going for beers after, so I'll be in later," Benny explained, grabbing his ball cap out of Will's out-stretched hand to place backwards on his head, doing a poor attempt at keeping his wet, longer tresses contained.

Inhale. One, two, three. Exhale. One, two, three.

You repeated this with each movement, flowing through a relaxing vinyasa, feeling your muscles lengthen and stretch out that held onto the warmth from your workout to make it all feel that much better.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, you were only focused on your breathing, not having to consciously remind yourself to do it, your rhythm slow and controlled.

You transitioned from downward dog into chaturanga and back again, peddling out your heels alternatively to stretch your hamstrings and calves, indulging in the sensation of your tight muscles loosening up.

Continuing this a few more times, you prayed that a view of your ass sticking up in the air would draw over Will's attention, and while in your last downward dog, you glanced through your legs to find him sneaking a peek as he jogged on the treadmill.

Tucking your lip between your teeth to stave off your smile, you moved forward into a plank, holding position and breathing through for a minute before folding into child's pose, then up into table top where you slowly rotated your head from side to side. You arched your back, exhaling as you felt relief in your spine in cow, then rounded it up into cat, each exchange between the two poses putting you perfectly on display.

You wouldn't hesitate to admit you were holding your poses longer than was necessary, the wind-down from your intense workout feeling almost as rewarding as knowing there were a set of blue eyes locked on you; anything to tempt the man watching you like his prey.

Will always had a plan. Everything he did was deliberate and carefully executed, but as he slammed the stop button on the treadmill and dismounted it before it even had the chance to stop and walked over to you now, he didn't know what the fuck he was doing.

He couldn't take it any longer, seeing you bent over like that on the mat, stretching your nimble limbs that he kept imagining tossing about and manipulating into different positions; the walls of composure and collection he worked so hard to carefully build up crumbling to the ground because of you.

No one else had ever made him feel like this, making him want to lose control, and everything in him knew you would be his undoing the moment he laid eyes on you.

You had finished your show for him and were making your way toward the change rooms, making Will take a quick scan of the gym as he followed, spotting one guy who had recently come in and started his workout over on the far side, and a woman who conveniently carried all her belongings with her moving contentedly on an elliptical. There was only ever one staff member on shift at a time - tonight a teenage kid whose face was glued to the screen of his phone - and otherwise the gym was dead.

Within a few long strides, Will was behind you, his stealth catching you by surprise when he gently took hold of your elbow and made you flinch and pull it away instinctively before clasping your hand to your chest, your laugh and smile only increasing his ferocity.

Your expression quickly shifted into curiosity, tilting your head slightly as you must have registered the hormones pouring off of him, knowing he had no way of disguising the dark look in his eyes or the way his body worked to lean close to yours.

Will held his breath as he let what little patience he had left give you some grace, waiting and watching as your eyes fell from his down to his lips, your pulse quickening in your neck a cue that everything in you knew what was about to happen.

You met each other without hesitation, lips crashing against one another furiously, the first taste making you moan loudly and him growl appreciatively, taking only a couple of sloppy, hasty kisses to find a tempo that already had Will hard and you desperate for more.

He walked into you, forcing you back against the wall, the air in your lungs blowing out as you thudded against the painted concrete blocks.

His hands cupped your face and he pulled away for a moment, wanting to check that he wasn't getting carried away in everything he was wanting.

Your lips couldn't look more inviting, glistening with his saliva, already slightly puffy from his beard roughly moving against them, and the look in your eyes told him everything he needed to know; you were done waiting and were ready for him, whatever the consequences.

He narrowed his eyes, still searching yours for a firm answer, and breathlessly muttered, "Yeah?"

You nodded in return despite how firmly he was holding your face, your own 'yes' dying on your lips as you leaned forward and kissed him hard, your hands reaching up to claw at his damp t-shirt.

You knew Will would taste and smell divine, but it was impossible to fathom him being this craveable, the more your tongue probed and rolled against his, the more you knew you needed to have your mouth on every inch of him.

Your hands slid down his chest to his waistband where you slipped them up beneath the hem of his shirt, skirting them upward to feel the smooth skin covering the ripples of thick muscles and flesh. He groaned into your mouth, the rumble of his low octave reverberating through you to increase your desire to please this man even more, making the wetness between your legs match the amount of sweat that coated the rest of your body.

Your fingertips easily slid across his torso on account of his own layer of sweat, and you could taste it on his lips with each kiss; being able to experience this raw, accelerated version of each other all the more alluring and empowering.

The sound of a heavy weight clanging against metal brought you both back into awareness of your location; the hallway leading to the change rooms not the most discreet choice for your heated make-out session.

Will cast a hungry glance at you and nodded his head toward the men's change room, thinking it was more likely for a man to be less offended in walking in on anything than a woman.

Having dreamt of this for longer than you could imagine, you pushed your inhibitions aside and followed him willingly, your arousal spiking as you abandoned all modesty.

A guttural sound that you knew was meant to be a chuckle tore past his lips as he backed you up against a set of lockers, the steel against the exposed skin under your sports bra making you jolt forward into him.

"Jesus Christ, look what you're doing to me," he whispered before capturing your lips again in a needy kiss.

Your fingers danced across his torso again, under his damp shirt, following the trail of soft, golden hairs that started below his belly button and continued beneath his shorts.

Will tugged at your bottom lip roughly with his teeth as you dared to explore further, his breathing increasing with his lust, his impatience for you to take him in your hand growing along with everything else.

Continuing to kiss you like he was trying to steal your air, he hastily tore his shorts down over his ass, grabbing your hand and shoving it down the front of them where you eagerly took hold of his swollen cock and stroked it appreciatively.

A long moan that turned into a whine blew past your lips, having assumed from all the times you had stared that he would be big but didn't think he was this huge, your fingers closing around his thick girth as you moved up and down his generous length.

Your core ached and throbbed with a need to have him buried inside you and stretching you out like never before, your skin tingling with what felt like electricity at the anticipation of it.

Will knew it was risky, aware that anyone could walk in at any given moment, and even though he had done a thorough evaluation of who was currently in the gym, that someone new could show up and head right into the change room where he was about to fuck you without care of anyone seeing. It wasn't like him to be so careless, but for the first time since the Publix incident, his basic instincts were taking over, clouding his mind and betraying his control.

The way you were working his dick had him on the brink already, and in a rageful haze he shoved his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and peeled them down your thighs, doing the same with your slick-coated panties next.

The tight spandex of your leggings had your legs trapped at the knee, hardly allowing any room for you to spread your legs apart, and after swiping his long fingers through your soaked folds and up to lubricate your swollen clit, Will took hold of your ass and your hip with each of his hands and drove his cock into you.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he growled, pulling all the way out before slamming back in again, filling you to your deepest point where you cried out and clawed your nails into his shoulder.

He hammered you recklessly, the control he had over you and his unrelenting thrusts the only thing he did have control of, the rest of him lost and consumed by your panting, open-mouthed kisses and your wet pussy encasing him like a vice.

The door of the locker supporting you made noise with every thrust, his force amazing you and sending you closer to your climax each time, the sensation of his long, hard cock dragging in and out tightly against your walls making you fall faster than ever.

You did your best to move along with him, cursing the restriction of your pants that trapped your legs no further than hip-distance apart, but Will made up for it with the motion of his own hips, rolling up into you so his lower abs and coarse hairs around his cock rubbed against your clit with perfect pressure and tempo.

"Fuck! Will!" you screamed, burying your face in the crook of his sweaty neck, attempting to quiet yourself as you plummeted into ecstasy.

Feeling you clench around him and soak his throbbing dick only made him work harder, fucking you violently to carry you through your orgasm, aiming to intensify and extend it as selflessly as he could.

The sounds pouring from you and the way your body shuddered and quivered in aftershocks sent him barrelling into his own orgasm, and borrowing confidence from you, he let himself give in to his release.

"Cum in me, Will, please!" you begged, holding onto his frame desperately, rocking your hips against him to aid in his pleasure.

"Fuck!" he roared, bucking into you wildly, supporting your body with only his cock and one of his hands as he slammed his other against the locker beside you, his aggression spurring you into a second climax.

His hot seed filled you and coated your overly-sensitive lips and clit perfectly, transitioning you from one orgasm that hadn't ever died down to another, even more intense one.

Will didn't stop moving in you until he knew you had ridden out every second of your high, and as you both began to quiet yourselves from your pleasure, he kissed you ardently, his hand reaching up to hold the back of your head to keep you securely against his mouth.

Despite wanting to stay buried inside you but becoming aware of your situation again, Will slipped from you and pulled his boxers and shorts back up, watching as you slid your panties over your perfect thighs to re-cover your even more perfect pussy, the way your leggings hugged your curves nearly making him hard again already as they smoothed along your gorgeous skin.

He looked from you over his shoulder and then back again, licking his lips before he spoke in a low tone.

“We’re going to my place,” he instructed, giving you no choice, “I'm not nearly done with you."

You grinned when he turned his back to you, taking your hand to lead you through the gym and out the doors quickly and efficiently, the Captain in him shining and making you burn with desire to see everything he was capable of.

His house wasn't more than two minutes away from the gym - much to your approval - even knowing he was driving his truck faster than the speed limit permitted and was likely taking the fastest route he had figured out ages ago.

You sat leaning against the passenger-side door, eating him up shamelessly as he drove, admiring the veins in his arms and hands that rippled through his tattoos, the focus straining on his still-sweaty face as he concentrated on getting you home as quickly as he could.

The traffic light ahead turned to yellow, making Will's cheeks flinch as he clenched his teeth out of frustration, his dire need to get to you again filling you with fresh want that complimented the swell of your ego.

“What happened to self-control…only doing the things you're supposed to be doing?" you asked, your voice sultry and barely recognizable to your ears.

He gave a sly, sideways glance at you, his fingers tapping the dash as his hand hung loosely over the steering wheel, his eyebrow cocked on his forehead as he caught the cheekiness in your question.

"Or not trusting yourself?" you boldly continued, his silence prompting a false confidence in you.

The light turned green and he let his foot off the brake, letting the truck roll forward before he eased on the accelerator.

He turned his head to look at you fully this time, his eyes alight with something playful that made your stomach flip.

“I never said I was good at following those rules.”

Even in his rush to get you home, Will drove with precision, only driving a little more recklessly when he turned onto his street and sped toward his driveway, pulling in and slamming his pickup in park while reaching up to hit the button to open the garage door on the visor above his head.

You made to get out, your hand pulling on the handle to open your door, only to be stopped when you felt Will's hand grip around your other wrist to pull you back, his lips crashing against yours as soon as your body twisted toward him again.

Your kiss slowly broke, his lips still brushing yours gently, his voice low when he muttered, “I still don't trust myself with you.”

His nose rubbed against yours back and forth before he pulled away a little more, a stormy colour tinting his usually lighter blue eyes.

"I told you I would be all-in, and I meant that.” He looked at you seriously, and you wondered if this was the same look he gave fellow soldiers after delegating a command. "This is your time to go if you don't want it."

You felt your voice catch in your throat, your lungs struggling to find air, but somehow managed to speak with surety, committing yourself completely.

"I'm not going anywhere, Will."

Making it inside the house was a blur and became almost impossible, the inability to keep your hands and mouths off each other making the distance from the truck to the door further than it was.

Will blindly found the door knob and twisted it, kicking it open with his foot so forcefully it thudded against the wall with a bang, the sound lost on both of you.

The smell of the house was somehow familiar, lingering with traces of the scent you now knew was his, along with a faintness of laundry detergent as well as what you only assumed was the Miller brother's dinner from last night.

As curious as you were to look around and see what the walls that made up Will’s home contained, your priority was to satisfy your curiosity in seeing the body you had imagined naked so many times in all its godly flesh.

Will hesitantly paused in kissing you when your fingers skirted along the hem of his shirt, lifting his arms up over his head to allow you to pull the drenched cotton off of him, a playful smirk tugging at his lips once he was able to see you again.

In utter amazement at his form that was the perfect combination of toned muscle and thick skin, you smoothed your hands up his stomach to his pecs before going further to the wide column of his neck where you pulled him down slightly in order to kiss him more. He hummed into your mouth, relishing in how good you tasted and felt on his tongue, his whole body still charged and buzzing from finally being able to put his lips on yours.

You felt yourself starting to become hyper-aware of every part of his body that contacted yours, and feeling his fingertips wedge under the band of your sports bra, you were ready to fall apart right then. The sweat that saturated the already tight-fitting garment made it difficult to remove, but Will made it seem effortless as his hands stretched it away from your clammy skin and peeled it over your head. A hungry growl reverberated through him as he took in the sight of your bare chest, appreciating the soft curves of each breast with his slender fingers before plucking and twisting your stiffened nipples between them.

You moaned, closing your eyes and tipping your head back, the goosebumps that poured out over every inch of your skin reaching your scalp where a shiver shot straight down your back.

"Will…" you breathed, praying he would never stop touching you.

The sound of his name coming from your lips like that made him feel feral, and there was no more time to waste in getting you fully naked so he could fuck you again and feel every part of you on him.

His lips dove to your neck, kissing you roughly while his hands traveled down your waist where his fingers took hold on the band of your leggings sitting snugly against your waist, a growl vibrating through him as he stripped them down your legs.

As gracefully as you could, you reached down to peel them away from your ankles, holding onto his broad shoulders for support as you did, the way the damp material clung to your skin not making it an easy task.

You stood in only your soiled panties, waiting for him with bated breath to rid you of those too, thankful when he made it his priority. His fingers grazed over your barely-covered pussy, and he huffed a shaky laugh in feeling how saturated the thin cotton was, his mouth covering yours in a claiming kiss as he pressed his thumb on your clit and circled it over top of the fabric.

You pressed yourself down on his hand, needing more friction, rolling your hips slightly to make the wetness lingering from the quickie in the gym spread more across your aching sex.

Will could hear his blood pounding in his ears, ready to cut loose everything he was trying to restrain, the soft moans pouring from your sweet lips making him rip your thong from you, the sight of his cum settled in the crotch of it and glistening on your pussy satisfying his most savage needs.

"God damn," he growled, seeing the mess he made of you drop to the floor heavily, your feet stepping out of them carefully before he grabbed under your bum and lifted you up, carrying you quickly to his bedroom with your legs wrapped around him.

Setting you down, he pushed the door closed so hard it slammed, returning to you in a rush to consume all of you, his tongue tangling with yours again as he held your chin to deepen your kiss.

You felt desperate to have him naked, the tease you got of him at the gym simply not enough, your want to memorize every inch of him overpowering and all-consuming. Your hands pushed against his chest, silently telling him to back away, your interruption resulting in a dark glare from him as he loomed above you. Swallowing, your mouth already watering at knowing what you were about to witness, you tugged at his shorts, the brisk motion making his hard cock spring free and bounce up and down in the most alluring way.

Tilting your head up to capture his lips again, both of your hands moved between your bodies, gripping one around his shaft and the other cupping his sack. You massaged him gently, increasing your pressure the more the movement of his lips increased in fervor with yours, his hips bucking into your hands slowly as you worked him. His skin was hot and damp, the sweaty, musky scent potent and making you drunk on him and eager to taste him.

Will still held your face, carefully prying you away from him with a sigh, his hands shifting to run over your hair to the back of your head where it all met in a ponytail, pulling at it slightly to tip your head back. His lips peppered along your throat as he slipped your hair tie down and out of your hair, letting it fall freely onto your shoulders while the elastic dropped to the floor. You whined when he raked his fingers through it, your nipples hardening even more at the sensation, unable to believe the reactions he so effortlessly brought out of you.

Stilling your strokes on his throbbing dick, you opened your eyes and kept them locked with his vibrantly blue ones, slowly dropping to your knees as you let your hands trail down his thighs, squeezing the vast muscles of his quads.

Maintaining your eye contact, you hoped you conveyed your worship of him, ready to submit to him and his every command, the flex of his cock and the appeasement on his face telling you you were.

Before you even dared to put your lips to him, you breathed in, inhaling deeply to capture as much of the smell of him that you possibly could, the intoxicating mix of his sweat and cum and your own tangy scent making you shift on your knees, trying to allay the ache between your legs.

"Don't even think about touching yourself," he barked, his hoarse voice making you hold your breath in shock that he somehow could read your mind.

You smiled slightly, looking up at him again as you brought your lips forward, teasing the tip of his cock back and forth to coat them with the precum that leaked from it. Parting them more, you let his head spread them open fully, giving little resistance as he pushed into the heat of your mouth, his legs tensing beneath your palms while you whined as you took him to the back of your throat.

He tasted better than you had imagined, the saltiness of his sweat and his cum the best thing your taste buds had ever experienced, your eagerness to keep sucking on him clear in how you expertly swirled your tongue around his length, your head moving in a precise rhythm with aim to wreck him.

Will's breathing was already ragged, feeling like he could explode at any moment, his mind split between fucking your mouth until he came down your throat and nearly choked you or prying you off of him so he could finish in that tight pussy of yours again.

"Jesus Christ, baby," he groaned, moving his hips in tempo with your head, your hands wrapping around to grab his ass to encourage him to do so.

Looking down at you, he nearly fell apart, seeing your teary eyes still locked on him faithfully, spit seeping from the corners of your mouth, turning into more of a mess with every movement along his throbbing cock.

"Up," he strangled out, his voice hoarse but still clear in his demand.

You continued as you were doing, applying more forceful sucks to his head, your selfishness outshining your obedience.

"You heard me."

His words washed over you like a drug, the look on his face tempting you to risk defying his order again, but ultimately did as you were told and released him with a crude 'pop', a sated smile dressing your lips that Will wiped clean with his thumb.

"Sorry," you cooed, still smirking at him as you stood.

"No you're not," Will half-grinned, shaking his head slightly.

He swallowed your laugh as he covered your mouth with his again, demanding full access to it with his tongue, making you feel weak in the knees, your previous cockiness vanishing in an instant.

Will walked forward, guiding you to the edge of his neatly made bed, continuing until your knees contacted the mattress and forced you to sit, moving yourself backward as he crawled on top of you.

His thigh wedged beneath yours, pushing it upward with easy force so you opened your legs wide, his dick nudging against you as he nestled himself between your welcoming spread. Rolling his hips so he slid through your slick folds, he continued kissing you fiercely, his hands smoothing up your legs and sides while pinning his full weight on you; choosing to paw at every part of you he could rather than support himself above you.

In one slow motion, he pushed into you, stretching you and filling you completely, his growl of approval drowning out your broken whine of pleasure bordering on pain. His lips abandoned yours to dig into your neck, pressing against your tender skin roughly, his beard both scratching and tickling you as he began thrusting in and out.

Each drag of his cock within your walls was hard, but deliberate, and carding your hands up and down his back, you appreciated every muscle working and straining to provide you every bit of pleasure he could.

Close to the brink, you matched his movements as best as you could, aiming to meet him each time his head blew against your g-spot, the way he found the perfect angle to ruin you making you see stars.

The way your voice sang his name and how your nails dug into his back, shoulders and ass in turn was wrecking him, breaking him down piece by piece while turning into the only sound he ever wanted to hear again.

Sensing your quickly building climax, Will pushed on, encouraged to make you fall apart as intensely as you deserved by the way you squeezed around his length in a strong, calculated pattern until you no longer could and gave into his assault.

The bedframe adopted the same motion demonstrated by your bodies, rocking steadily over the worn, hardwood floor and creaking as its limits were tested just the same as yours.

The sweet song he had been making you sing was quickly exchanged for a scream, your body taken over by that addicting, blinded ecstasy as you convulsed and tensed under his ministrations that he didn't relent on, pummeling you further into euphoria as you coaxed out his own end.

Will shoved his tongue back into your open mouth, seeking to take as much from you as he could, his hips thrusting into yours violently as he pulsed inside you to fill you once again. He gradually brought down his movements, expending every ounce of that dizzying high, effectively stealing your breath as he sought to find his own air.

Your chest heaved under his, feeling your nipples graze across his pecs with each rise and fall, his skin alight as your hands easily moved across his slippery body.

It was becoming compulsive, needing to feel and taste his sweat on your lips, tongue and skin, the scent of his exertion nearly overpowering that of your sex that filled the room, each breath you worked to take leaving you even more breathless as you desperately tried to fill your lungs with it.

There was no hurry in pulling out of you now, the need to indulge in you for as long as he could being the only thing that mattered to him. Your kisses eventually slowed, becoming lazy pecks against each other's swollen lips, cheeks and neck, your fingers raking softly through his wet, messy hair and over his forehead that dripped from his efforts.

A slight disapproving groan rumbled through him as he slipped out of you, but the smile that reached his clear, blue eyes replaced any sort of disappointment he felt as he looked down at you laying perfectly under him, and he wondered if all of this was a simple fabrication of his imagination.

You smiled back at him, continuing to smooth your finger tips along the lines that surrounded his eyes and creases that flanked the sides of his mouth, admiring every bit of emotion playing on his face as a sort of bashfulness hinted on his features brought on by your attention.

"You're incredible, Will," you praised, the desire to exalt this man as much as he deserved coursing through your veins.

He huffed a disbelieving laugh, nestling his face into your neck where he rubbed it back and forth as if he was using you to scratch his beard, prompting you to wrap your arms around his torso to keep him close to you.

"I mean it," you assured, your eyes closing at the sensation of his exhale blowing out over your dewy skin.

Will didn't dare open his mouth to speak, worrying if he did that his voice would give away everything your accolades brought out in him, the fear of falling too hard and too fast mixing in with his instinct to do exactly that.

---

Part 4

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls @littlenosoul @blairsanne @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90 @paintlavillered

#will miller #will 'ironhead' miller #triple frontier #will miller x female reader #will miller x reader #charlie hunnam #triple frontier fic #will miller smut

411 notes · View notes

headkiss · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! For a Christmas prompt, I was thinking maybe secret Santa with Eddie (and the hellfire gang) or first Christmas gift with Eddie who employs the assistance of Dustin to figure out how to make it the most perfect gift ever?

hiiii i went for the second one and i hope u like it <333 | 0.6k words, fluff and fem!reader

“What do I get her?” Eddie asks.

“I don’t know. You’re the one dating her,” Dustin’s quick to reply.

Eddie should know by now that asking for Dustin’s help comes with his attitude and sarcasm. He should also, in theory, know what to get his girlfriend for Christmas but here he is.

“Obviously, but it’s our first Christmas together,” he picks at the hem of his three quarter sleeves. “It has to be good, you know?”

“How about some jewelry? Girls like that,” Dustin shrugs.

“Did you get Suzie jewelry?”

“No, because Suzie is not like other girls. Duh.”

“I don’t even know why I try with you,” Eddie shakes his head.

It’s later that night when the idea comes to him. You’re not someone who needs a gift, you’ve told him multiple times he doesn’t have to get you anything. What kind of shit is that? Of course he’s gonna get you something.

He was sitting on the couch in the trailer, mindless TV playing, fiddling with his guitar pick necklace when he thought about it.

You fiddle with that necklace of his, too. When you’re cuddling, your head on his chest or his shoulder. It’s a habit you share, and he’s noticed that you don’t have a necklace on usually. That maybe you’d like one, too.

He gets up and gets to work. Finds an empty chain in his collection of jewelry, grabs one of his many picks. He nicks his finger cutting the hole into it, but he doesn’t mind.

Then, because he’s Eddie, he has to include music as a gift, too. He makes you a mixtape. Songs that remind him of you, that you have memories of. Cheesy shit that he’d never hear the end of from Dustin or Steve.

It was all worth it to see your reaction when he gave it to you.

You’re sitting on his bed across from him when he hands you the box.

“Eddie, I told you not to get me anything!” Though your wide smile tells him this was definitely the right move.

“Just open it, would you?”

“Okay, okay.”

You rip the wrapping paper away carefully, as if you wanted to preserve his wrapping job even though it was messy and had much more tape than necessary. You see the mixtape first, reading every song title he scrawled onto it.

“It’s perfect,” you say and you mean it.

Even just months into your relationship, you’re sure that there’s nobody better for you than Eddie. He’s sweet, always seems to be able to make you smile or laugh, and he’s romantic even if he keeps it hidden. It’s clear in the way he holds you, soft and secure. In the way he looks at you.

“There’s more,” he points to the necklace that had fallen to the bed.

You pick it up, look at it and then at him. You didn’t think he’d notice how often you fiddled with the one he wears. Then again, he seems to notice a lot of things.

“Eddie.”

“You like it?”

“Love it. So much.” You hold it out for him to grab, “will you put it on for me?”

“‘Course.”

He moves to stand behind where you sit on the bed, sweeps your hair over your shoulder for you to hold out of the way. His fingertips graze your skin as he places it around your neck, fighting with the clasp a bit before getting it.

He leans down to kiss the side of your neck before pulling back. You turn to face him, your smile even bigger than before, if that was possible.

“Thank you so much, Eddie.”

“Looks good on you,” he taps the pick that now rests on your chest. “My girl.”

You reach up and pull him down by the back of his neck for a kiss. A thank you, an appreciation, sticky sweet.

You pull away before either of you get carried away, “my turn.”

Eddie grabs the wrapped box you give him, much neater than his was. He thinks his favorite gift ever is you, but the sketchbook and drawing supplies you give him are perfect, too.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson story #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie blurbs

1K notes · View notes

boo-its-stress · 2 years ago

Text

So I had a silly little idea about what if Danny was ghost king but he didn’t actually have to be in charge because he is baby. You don’t put a baby in charge you put an adult in charge until baby is ready. Vlad would be the most qualified. But he’s Vlad. So. It needs to be somebody else. Batman. I’m talking about Bruce Wayne. Death touched and not ready to rule the infinite realms in his stead. I’m full of big thoughts on this but instead of organizing them and sharing them I wrote a little Blurbo.

Bruce was on the bat computer writing incident reports on the night’s patrol. It was a quiet night and it looked like everyone might get at least 4 hours of sleep tonight. Well, quiet on the streets of Gotham. The cave was very much not quiet as Tim seemed to have had the stupendous idea to intentionally rile Damian up. Idle hands may be the devil’s playthings but apparently an Idle Tim was more likely to lose all sense of self preservation. He wasn’t too worried yet, he could hear Dick trying to keep the peace which had about 50/50 odds of working.

The sudden silence was the absolute worst thing he could be hearing right now. He spun around in that chair as fast as bathumanly possible and stood up. Prepared to deal with an attempted fratricide. But what he saw froze him in his tracks, though not quite as literally as everything else. Damian was frozen mid leap towards an equally frozen Tim who's laughing face was in the midst of shifting towards regret while Dick was reaching out to catch him. He was instantly on guard for whoever had done this, it would be an unlikely coincidence for him to be the only one (or even one of many) left unfrozen if this was a global event that had nothing to do with him. No this was likely a deliberate act but the question remained if the intent was hostile or not. Not that it really mattered because they froze his boys and he would not be relaxing until that was undone.

He felt a presence above him and threw a batarang even as he was turning to face them. And the batarang passed straight through a floating blue humanoid. A being who radiated an aura of power that was only somewhat ruined by the pendulum clock in their chest and a total lack of concern for the weaponry thrown their way. There was a beat of tense silence before they shifted into the form of a child and gave the impression of raising an eyebrow despite not having any above the unsettling wholly red eyes “Did I catch you at a bad time Bruce? I can come back.” And just like that his guard was up even further. An intruder in the batcave with this kind of power and he knew his name? That could not mean anything remotely good. He was mentally preparing alternative methods of attack should this turn to violence, as most forms of physical attack would be useless depending on what form of phasal shifting that just was.

“Oh there’s no need for any of that Bruce. I’m just here to congratulate you on your ascendancy to Kinghood.” That left him wrongfooted and before he could even muster up a response and begin with any proper Questioning, the being continued. “Well, King Regent at least. The rightful ghost king is still a child and you possess the familial relation necessary to stand in until they’re ready to ascend the throne. Should you choose to refuse this position you have 30 days to find a suitable replacement and contact the high council of the infinite realms with this information.” And just as suddenly as the… Ghost? Just as the possible ghost had appeared, they were gone.

All at once life returned to the world and there was an audible thump as one Robin collided with another. But it was Dick who screamed. For if one were to view things from his perspective, Bruce had teleported from across the room and he thought he was immune to the Batman jump scares now! With Dick and Tim briefly caught up in their own individual terrors it was Damian who noticed something was wrong. He shoved Tim aside with contempt, rising to his feet and dusting himself off as if he felt especially dirty after the physical contact he himself had initiated. “Father? What is it?”

Bruce let out the slightest huff of relief at seeing his boys in motion once more, most wouldn’t notice it at all, but the collection of current and former robins were not most people. They were all at attention, waiting to be told and willing to resort to trickery if he wasn’t in a sharing mood. “Something was in the bat cave.” All three stiffened, knowing this was serious. He returned to the computer to begin a profile on the (man? Ghost? clock?) and also to avoid looking his children in the eye. No need to give away how badly this had shaken him. “They were capable of freezing time selectively. And froze all of you while we spoke. Possibly everyone else. Oracle, is it still 1:27 outside the batcave?”

He could hear rapid fire typing before she replied. “Matches up with the time in Gotham and there’s no noticeable time delay between here and anywhere else on Earth. I’ll have to get back to you on if we fell out of alignment with other planets, but I can tell you there’s no gaps in the footage in the batcave either, it… it looks like you teleported.”

Well that was not comforting news in the slightest. Whoever this was, they were incredibly powerful. Possibly capable of stopping all of time with (hopefully) no consequences. Looks like he might actually have to take what was said seriously. For such a powerful entity would have little reason to lie about such a thing. But could he really? He might have had a few close calls with death but he was still living? His heart was still beating? How could a living man be the reigning king of ghosts? Even as a regent? And regent to who exactly? A child? Is that by human or ghost standards? Bruce seemingly didn’t qualify as a child but would Dick? The ghost had said familial relation which was incredibly vague and unhelpful. Did his adopted children count or was it only Damian? Could it possibly be some distant cousin? He didn’t know and unfortunately he had no leads to speak of. How was he even supposed to contact this High Council of the Infinite Realms? He got the sinking suspicion that was the point. That he wasn’t being given a choice in the matter.

His eldest broke him out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder, reading what he’d written before locking eyes with him. “And what exactly did he want to talk about B?”

He couldn’t help the slight downturn of his lips as he answered, “Apparently I’ve been named the Regent King of Ghosts.”

And with the widening of Dick’s eyes and a muffled curse from Tim as he missed a step and collided with a table he couldn’t help thinking he was right. The intruder hadn’t brought anything good.

When he later called Constantine asking if he knew how to contact The High Council of the Infinite Realms and the man promptly swore before hanging up? He was absolutely sure he had found himself tangled up in something that was bound to cause him at least one headache in the near future.

When he found the first green sticky note that appeared between one blink and the next he was ready to have words with whoever put him in this position. He sincerely hoped the King he was playing regent for wasn’t Jason.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #ghost king Batman #Blurbo #This is my first post the formatting may be wonky #The writing definitely is like wow that’s some OOC shit #Feel free to add this is a vibe with no plans #but clockwork has a new soap opera #Bruce is much less amused #He has a conspiracy board dedicated to which child fought a death god #And won #Ugh somehow the first paragraph had disappeared at first. I fixed it but how even???

688 notes · View notes

maharlika · 1 year ago

Text

tend

a little hasltarion ficlet written for @cielsosinfel for the prompt "halstarion wound tending"

warnings for blood and implied (non-graphic) abuse/torture

Halsin wakes in the middle of the night to the smell of blood. He raises his snout into the air, paws shifting restlessly on the soft dirt. The coppery scent lingers for but a moment, but it is enough for his heightened animal senses to snag onto. He pushes his way out of his tent, an elf again, and walks towards Astarion’s humble abode.

The camp is deathly silent, and the night is cool. He finds Astarion sitting just outside of his tent, shirtless and twisting awkwardly in what looks like an attempt to reach a spot on his back.

Halsin stops a few meters away, hesitating, but then he sees Astarion’s ears twitch in annoyance.

“I know you’re there. I may not know how to spontaneously turn into an animal, but my hearing is just as keen. Though I suppose a vampire is just another kind of beast.”

Halsin sighs internally—he’s always so prickly, their vampiric companion. But he soldiers on: “Apologies. I smelled blood and thought—but I can leave you to it.”

Astarion frowns, his shoulders sagging.

“Unless you could use the help?”

“One of the goblins may have gotten too close,” Astarion admits. He turns as Halsin draws closer, and shows him the deep gash on his back, raking across the circle of his gruesome scars. The blood around the wound is caked and dark, but it’s still bleeding sluggishly, which is worrying. Why hadn’t Astarion told anyone?

Halsin winces in sympathy. “I have healing potions—”

“No,” Astarion says, rather forcefully. He takes a deep breath, then says, with an air of forced lightness, “It’ll heal on its own, there’s no need to waste a potion.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Halsin says. “And if you don’t want to use a potion, we can wake Shadowheart.”

Astarion shakes his head vehemently, his curls swaying with the motion. “It’s fine.”

“Then how can I help?” Halsin asks instead, feeling his patience start to fray. He’s never been good with people who refuse help—all the time spent playing a healer out of necessity should have rid him of this trait, but alas, it only seems to have compounded it.

Astarion raises a hand, and Halsin sees what he’s been holding on to this whole time: a needle and thread.

“It’ll heal faster if it’s closed,” Astarion says, eyes averted. “I’d do it myself, but it’s in a…tricky spot.”

“Let me get this straight,” Halsin says incredulously, “you’ll not accept a healing potion or a healing spell, but you want me to sew your wound closed, causing you a fair amount more pain. Is that right?”

“I suppose you’re not as stupid as you look,” Astarion says, but the haughty smile that graces his lips is a frail line, easily broken.

“Oak Father preserve me against stubborn vampires,” Halsin says, but he takes the needle.

Astarion startles when Halsin puts a hand on the cold curve of his shoulder but relaxes when Halsin murmurs an apology.

He does not stir when the needle slides through skin, through flesh.

How many times, Halsin wonders, has he done this to himself before? He has seen Astarion sew, hunched protectively over bloody, fraying clothes. The light, easy movement of his hands, the glimmer of the needle, the pull of the thread. How many times has Astarion sat by himself, in the dark, sewing his body back together?

Halsin is no surgeon, but he’s mended enough broken bodies to make quick work of the wound. Soon, it is neatly laced shut, and he hands the bloody needle back Astarion, who has not uttered a word since they started.

“Astarion?” Halsin asks.

Astarion’s shifts, turning to him, eyes half-lidded. He looks exhausted, his lower lip broken and bleeding, as if he had bitten himself to stifle any sort of noise.

How many Gods-damned times, Halsin thinks again, feeling the surge of some helpless, molten anger rise in his chest.

“Thank you,” Astarion says, looking as if he’s about to keel over any second.

“Would you like to feed?” Halsin asks.

Astarion blinks, slow. He licks his lips, eyes darting to Halsin’s neck. But eventually, he shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “No, you’ve done enough. I’ll sleep it off. Thank you.”

And as much as he’d like to push, Halsin knows Astarion has already revealed more than he’s comfortable with, tonight. So he nods, turns around, and walks towards the river, where he washes his hands. Blood meanders through the water, then diffuses into nothing.

How precious that blood must be to Astarion, who must take it from living creatures to survive. How cruelly it must have been spilled by a sadistic hand.

When they find Cazador, Halsin thinks, he would very much like to rend his limbs apart until they are unsalvageable, nothing that can be put back together by needle and thread.

#halstarion #halsin #astarion #rai writes #bg3

103 notes · View notes

babybulls15 · 6 months ago

Text

(Charles Leclerc/Carlos Sainz Jr., 1.1k, rated G, 1/1)

(based on that one video from the Miami shoot where it looks like Carlos is reaching up to fix Charles' hair, they're being oblivious menaces and driving the photo team insane in the process, POV Outsider, Ambiguous Relationship, kind of, they're acting like a couple soo, Idiots in Love, Crack)

Summary:

They can't keep their hands off each other. It's becoming a problem.

Read it on Ao3 or below. :))

(Tumblr kept throwing this at me and somehow it got stuck.

Thanks again to the wonderful @leversainz for beta reading and preserving what's left of my sanity! <33

I hope you enjoy and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :3)

------------------

When Sal had taken over the role of lead photographer for Ferrari a few months ago, she’d known it would not be a cakewalk. She’d known they were going to have high expectations and standards. She’d not known it was going to be this kind of chaos.

Really, it should be simple. A simple photo shoot. Get the drivers into the clothes, position them on the set, take the photos and repeat until the whole line has been visualized - nothing new, nothing really exciting.

Also not a lot of room for problems. Sal is a professional, Carlos and Charles are professionals, everyone is a professional, who’s been through this exact thing about 1000 times before. However, for some inexplicable reason, shooting together seems to make their two models prone to ignore all that professionalism in the room and throw their own out the window with it.

Prior to her first shoot, Sal had already heard stories from the PR-team about most of the vlogs and challenges going a bit awry. But nothing could’ve prepared her for whatever they are.

(Teammates? Friends? Boyfriends? Insane mostly.)

Their exact relationship is a big question mark to everyone, probably even themselves, but they do seem incredibly comfortable - constantly in each others space, touching in some form or another.

That, in of itself, is not a problem. It starts becoming one, when the people they work with need them to not do that for a few hours, and it is apparently impossible.

(They’re not getting downright handsy, but the way they move around each other is still too physically intimate to be edited around the power of teammates and friendship.)

And the worst thing is, no one can even really fault them, as they actually don’t seem to be doing it on purpose.

Sal recognizes it from her own relationship – the need to be close, the bubble of intimacy that makes everything else disappear - so when she has to reposition them for almost every second shot because they keep unconsciously shifting closer to each other, she can’t find it in herself to blame them. At this point, she’s gotten used to it.

(That doesn’t mean she can’t still send them chastising looks every time it happens.)

What she definitely can and will blame them for though, is their current predicament - the candid videos of the new race suits, that are taking way longer than they need to - because Carlos and Charles seem to have a lot of trouble with the 10 cm gap between them. It has repeatedly taken about 20 seconds after positioning, for them to get lost in themselves and instinctively move closer again - much to the chagrin of the videography team.

After they have to cut off the video for the fifth time, because neither of them can keep their hands where they’re supposed to be, Sal also starts blaming the director.

She keeps giving them the call of “Act natural! Like you’re in the garage preparing for the race!” and somehow the guys seem to take that particular one very seriously.

Because, just like before every race, they are completely in their own world, oblivious to whatever is happening around them. Sal has photographed enough Grand-Prixs and therefore witnessed enough of their pre-race rituals, to know the phrasing is really not helping anyone.

They’re now on their eighth attempt to get a particular candid shot of the two drivers in their shiny blue race suits wearing equally blue sunglasses.

The longer she looks at it, the more ridiculous the scene becomes in Sal’s opinion, but it’s the last one and they need to make it stick, so everyone can finally go home. Although the photo-part of the shoot is done and the videographer has taken over two hours ago, Sal and the rest of the photography team are still there (company policy...) and it is starting to drag.

Most of the staff not actively working is gathered around the director and her video monitor, impatiently waiting. They need one minute of usable footage for the promotion. One minute.

As the first half counts down, everything seems to be going swimmingly - they’re keeping it cool, they’re keeping it civil and most importantly they’re keeping it an appropriate distance apart.

At around 20 seconds to go, Charles starts fussing with his hair.

It’s an innocent enough thing, to go down without any protest from the crew. But then Carlos, in a gesture that seems too intuitive to be entirely conscious, starts moving his hands up to where Charles’ are buried in his curls.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. It is almost entirely silent. No one is even looking at the two drivers. Everyone knows what’s coming is inevitable, so the only thing that matters is the clock ticking on the video timer.

Carlos’ hands reach Charles’ head with about 10 seconds to go. As he starts untangling his teammates hands from his hair and gently takes them into his own, the silence is disrupted by a cacophony of almost unison groans from the team. 10 seconds. 10 seconds later and it would’ve been completely fine. Everyone is already resigning themselves to do the whole thing over again, when the director sighs loudly and shakes her head.

“No. This ends now. I do not care how we do it, but we will find these 10 seconds somewhere else. Cut the last part. We are done here.” Then she gets up from her chair and, to everyone’s surprise, simply leaves the studio.

There is a moment of stunned silence, before the whole team lets out a collective sigh of relief and immediately starts moving to pack up.

As the two drivers are ushered to the dressing rooms, Sal sees Charles lean into Carlos, making the other man reach out instinctively, pulling him closer.

They smile and wave her goodby, when they pass where she is zipping up her bags - talking animatedly to each other, once again caught in their own world.

Oblivious, Sal thinks as she waves back.

Shouldering her equipment, she watches them for a moment longer. Carlos has one arm wrapped tightly around Charles’ waist, like he has been restraining himself the last six hours and now needs to make up for lost time. Charles is no better, as he seemingly tries his best to reduce the space between them even more, practically melting into his teammates side.

Sal sighs, turning to leave. They really are insane.

#charlos #charlos fanfiction #charlos fanfic #mia throws writing into the void #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #carlos sainz fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #mia screams into the void but in a different direction

29 notes · View notes

imagineanime2022 · 6 months ago

Text

Prove It.

Hatori Sohma X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3387

Requested: @girlsforpjm

Request: Plssss more one shots for hatori I’ll pay and everything im begging😞 AND I can’t even remember if I put in a request already but can you do another hatori x reader :)

Warning: More angsty then my previous works, kinda happy ending, spoliers for Hatori's backstory

Willing to write a part 2 for this one if anyone is interested.

You were only young when you met Hatori, you remember the small smile that he had returned your wave with, you were both too small to realise then but your friendship would be tested in more ways than one. You grew close quickly and even with Shigure and Ayame inserting themselves into your little group when you started middle school, you were still almost inseparable.

“Hatori!” You called as you walked into the student council room, a smile bright on your face as you waved. Having been friends with him for so long now, you’d learned of the curse that followed his family and tried your hardest to stop others from triggering it and stop yourself from triggering it as well. “What are you doing here?” He asked, watching you sit in the seat next to him with a smile. “I knew that you’d hide yourself in here, I know you’ve got a lot of work to do since Ayame’s not going to do it,” You mumbled as you pulled out a small bento box from your bag. “You need to eat though.” “Oh, I wasn’t expecting anyone to realise that I was gone.” He said softly as he took the box from you, placing it on the other side of him so that he could easily swap from writing to eating. “Is there something else?” “No, I’ll just stay here. I have some work to do as well. It's quiet here so it’ll be easier to work.” You explained as you pulled out some homework that he had more than likely finished. “You should have done that already…” He sighed as he glanced at the work that you had laid out. “I know, I just don’t understand it… so I’ve been avoiding it.” You shrugged looking at the papers as if hoping that it was spontaneously stick in your head. “You should have said something, I can help you with this.” He said as he turned away from the work that he had been doing. “No you have your own work to be doing, I can figure this out on my own.” You mumbled “I didn’t mean to bother you.” “You could never bother me, I’ll teach you the basic concept again, and while you do the first half of the worksheet I’ll keep working on this.” He explained and you looked at him and nodded. “Okay, as long as you let me know if I can help you as well.” You ordered and he nodded.

The first time that you were really tested was the day that your parents told you that you were moving, you wanted nothing more than to stay but there was no way to make it work no matter how you looked at it. You hadn’t actually planned to tell Hatori when you did, you had been sitting in the park near your house after talking to your parents, you were trying to figure out how you were going to tell him. It seemed the universe was ready for you to tell him because he took a seat next to you. “You look upset.” Was all he said, you bit your bottom lip, eyes trained on the floor as you tried to find the words to explain everything. “I am upset.” You finally answered, you hoped that voicing your feelings on the matter before explaining it to him would help preserve the friendship that you had. “Why?” He asked. “My parents want to move.” Again putting the blame on someone else so that he wouldn’t be angry at you. “Out of town?” Hatori asked. “Yeah.” You answered, as if saying it out loud called on more tears, they poured down your face as you pulled your knees up to face wrapping your arms around the back of your thighs. “They won’t let you stay?” He asked. “There’s nowhere for me to stay, I don’t have any other family here.” You shrugged and you heard him sigh as he moved, you expected that he was going to leave you there, go home and leave you to your own sadness but instead you felt him gently pull your legs down. “Then I will wait for you.” He promised. “Wait for me?” You asked. “You plan on coming back right?” He asked. “Of course.” You answered. “Then I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes.” He answered. “And I will do whatever it takes to get back here.” You promised.

You talked everyday for the next 4 years, as you tried to make the best of a bad situation, as you got older you knew that the promise to wait for you was one made by two children and you never expected him to honour it but when you found your way back to town and found that he was about to get married and have a child you realised how much you wished that he would.

“They look happy.” You said softly as you stood with Shigure. “He’s missed you.” Shigure said and you looked at him and shrugged. “Doesn’t mean that he’s not happy.” You said as you looked back at them. “She’s pretty, I shouldn’t ruin this for him.” “Ruin something?” Shigure frowned. “You wouldn’t ruin anything. He’s been waiting for the day that you come back here.” Shigure said. “We both know that I can’t turn off these feelings, it’s the reason I promised to come back, I hoped that absence would make the heart grow fonder. Instead I pushed him towards someone else, my decision, my consequences.” You mumbled. “You really should stay and talk to him.” Shigure suggested, you shrugged. “Maybe.” You answered before turning away, you still had others that you wanted to visit, you only had a couple of days.

As time went on it became harder and harder for you to actually go and see him, everytime that you saw him he was with her and he was happy, you didn’t want to ruin something good for him, you would much rather that he were happy then confused or torn, so on your last day you decided that you just wouldn’t go and see him. Like always Hatori had a way of messing up any plan that you’ve ever made, this time he seemed to find you sitting at a table in a coffee shop “Were you ever going to come and see me?” He asked. “You seemed busy.” You answered, honestly you didn’t sound bitter or angry about it, just a little sad. “Didn’t want to bother you.” “I’ve told you this before… You are never a bother.” He explained. “You seem to have other priorities, I shouldn’t distract you from them, I’m glad you look happy.” You explained. “You don’t sound very happy.” He observed and you looked at him for a second and shrugged. “I still can’t stay, the place I had lined up fell through so I’ll have to leave again in a few days.” You answered, covering up your mood with a lie, you had declined the place after seeing them together, you weren’t sure that you were going to be able to live with it, at least not at the moment, you needed more time to get used to it. “There’s nowhere else?” He asked. “Not at the moment, I asked the agent to give me a call if something else came up.” You answered. “Why would you avoid me all this time if you knew that?” He asked. “You looked happy.” you answered. “What does that have to do with anything?” He asked. “I’m happy for you.” You said softly “but I can’t be happy with you.” “What are you talking about?” He asked. “There was a reason that I promised to come back here, I thought… It doesn't matter what I thought, just know that I’m happy for you and I hope that I will be brave enough to meet her one day.” “Wait! What does that mean?” He asked as you started to stand. “It doesn’t matter, just enjoy what you have, okay? Promise?” You smiled and this was the first time that he had seen your smile since you had come back, the same as he remembered, though it didn’t meet your eyes almost there, it would fool anyone who hadn’t known you since you were young. “I promise.” He finally said and that was where he saw it, the smile that could have fooled him if he weren’t part of the conversation. “Good.” you nodded before turning and walking away from him. The second test one you both failed.

From there on the messages stopped and you were only ever back for special events like Ayame opening his new shop or Shigure’s success in writing. You remembered the night that you got the message from Shigure that something terrible had happened, he didn’t tell you what it was just that they needed you to come back to help Hatori. When you got there, you had no indication of what happened, Shigure met you and took you back to the house where Hatori must have been. “What happened?” You asked. “It’s better that he tells you.” Shigure answered. “A lot has happened since your last visit.” “Bad things I assume?” You asked, Shigure only hummed in confirmation. When you made it back to the house Ayame was there. “I was worried that you wouldn’t come.” Ayame sighed “he really needs you right now, you were always able to talk to him when he didn’t want to talk to anyone else.” “I can try but a lot has changed.” You took a deep breath. “The fact that you're here means nothing has changed.” Ayame said “we won’t be far if you need us.” “Thanks.” You mumbled before walking into the room. Hatori was a mess that you could tell, he seemed to be looking through everything in the room until his eyes landed on you. “They called you.” He said. “They did.” You nodded. “Why?” He asked. “I don’t know, I guess they thought that I could help, I’m still your friend after all.” You said taking a step forward. “Are you?” He asked. “Am I what?” You asked. “Still my friend? We haven’t spoken in months.” He reminded you. “You don’t get to come here when you think that you are needed and pretend that you did just walk away when things got tough.” “I didn’t walk away with things got tough, walking away was tough, I could have stuck around, told you I loved you and ruined your life.” You explained. “My life is already ruined, if you loved me you would have been here!” He didn’t yell but his tone was harsh and should have left no room for argument but you weren’t going to leave it that way. “You don’t get to blame this on me, you were the one who broke the promise first, you said that you were going to wait for me and when I came back you had moved on! I didn’t choose that for you, I’m sorry about whatever happened to you and I’m sorry that I can’t change it but you don’t get to lay that blame at my door.” Your hands curled into fists as you turned to the door. “So you are walking away again?” He asked. “I shouldn’t, I should let you hurt me so badly that I never come back here again but I love you… I’d probably still give you a chance, so I’ll save myself the pain and you the guilt and walk away again.” You answered, opening the door “if you ever feel that I’m worth the time again, Shigure and Ayame will know where to find me.” As you walked out your eyes fell on Ayame and Shigure “I told you things have changed.” Ayame was the first to move, pulling you into a hug as he walked you out.

Shigure stood in the corridor torn between following you out and confronting his friend, in the end he chose to have the fight that you wouldn’t “what was that?” He asked. “She’s better off without me.” Hatori answered. “That’s what you think.” Shigure finally spoke. “That’s what I know.” Hatori argued. “What you know is that you are afraid, scared that it will end the same way that they have with Kana.” Shigure fired back, though the words felt cold and unfeeling they only seemed to make Hatori more angry. “Would you rather she ended up the same as Kana, that she ended up hurt like Kana!?” Hatori asked. “It doesn’t matter what I would rather happen, it’s not my decision to make and it’s not yours either.” Shigure answered. “She reaches out for you even now and you still can’t see it, maybe she is better off without you but she’ll never truly walk away.” “I never asked her to stay.” Hatori grumbled. “No but you made her promise to come back.” Shigure reminded him as he turned to leave “she never broke it.”

You don’t know what gave you the confidence to move back to town but after everything happened you couldn’t settle anywhere but there, eventually getting a job as the school counsellor in the hopes that helping other people with their problems would help you ignore yours. Tohru was the sweet girl who had found her way into your office, her mother had passed away and while she insisted that she is fine, and within the first couple of weeks you doubted it but things have changed recently. “I miss her sometimes.” Tohru finally said. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked. “I don’t know if there’s anything to talk about, I just think about some of the things that we used to do.” She answered. “As you should.” You smiled “when you lose someone like that, I would be worried if you said that you never thought of her or that you didn’t miss her, it will never feel right that she’s not here but it will get easier.” “You sound like your talking from experience.” Tohru muttered. “Well-” “Oh! Sorry I didn’t mean to pry I just thought-” “Tohru it’s okay don’t worry, I was talking from experience, though the person that I was speaking of hasn’t passed.” You answered. “That must be hard.” Tohru said softly and you shook your head. “I don’t see him anymore.” You explained. “Things seem to be different with you, you seem happier these past couple of weeks.” “I think I am happier, I have some new friends, I’ve been staying with them Yuki and Kyo Sohma.” “You like being with them?” You asked. “Yeah, they both need help sometimes, Kyo can be a little standoffish and brash but he tries his best not to hurt people and Yuki just needs a friend.” Tohru explained. “Just be careful not to give too much of yourself to someone else,” You warned and she nodded with a small smile as the conversation moved to a lighter topic before the session ended.

It was only a couple of weeks later that Hatori walked into the school, he was looking for Yuki, you had been going back to your office after a meeting and ended up running into him “is there something that I can help you with?” You asked after dodging running into him. “I’m looking for Yuki Sohma.” He answered. “Second floor, 4th room from the left hand staircase.” You answered. “Thank you.” He answered before stepping around you, the little boy following him looked at you for a second he almost seemed like he wanted to say something. “Momoji!” Hatori called, causing the boy to leave before he could say anything, you watched him walk around the corner before continuing to your office where you were surprised to see Shigure sitting on the sofa, not an uncommon occurrence, he tended to sneak in and hide here when he didn’t want to do anything. “I’m fine.” You muttered as you put all of your papers on the table and sat down. “So you saw him then? I was hoping that I would get to you before he did.” He sighed. “He didn’t say anything did he?” “Just asked where Yuki was.” You answered. “Mm.” Shigure hummed. “What are you hiding from this time?” You asked. “Nothing, I came here for you.” Shigure answered, “You're still my friend even if we don’t meet the same way that we used to.” “Thank you for checking up on me, you don’t need to do that.” You finally said, he just waves you off.

Months after that meeting with Hatori, everything settled back into the normal routine, work was simple and home was lonely but it was constant and that was it. You don’t even know what made you look out the window but you did, eyes falling on the figure just outside of your gate. You sighed as you pulled on a jumper and slipped on some shoes before opening the door “what are you doing?” You asked. “I was trying to decide whether I should darken your doorstep.” He answered. “Well you are so what do you want?” You asked. “You said that if I ever wanted to find you again I just needed to ask the others, are you still willing to listen?” He asked. “I wouldn’t have said it if I were ever going to turn you away.” You leaned against your door frame, you thought that when you saw him again you would tell him that you wanted nothing to do with him but now that he was here and willing, you were desperate for an explanation. “I have some questions of my own.” “Then ask them.” He prompted. “I know you were hurting back then but why would you say all of those things?” You asked. “It’s just like you to justify it by saying that I was hurting but in all honesty that was only part of it but the bigger part was that I was afraid.” He answered. “Afraid?” You asked “of the same thing happening again?” “Do you know what happened with Kana?” He asked “did the others ever tell you?” “No.” You answered stepping to the side “you should come in if you're about to though.” Hatori seemed thankful for the offer of shelter, waiting in the hall for you to lead him in, you both sat in the living room. “Akito was the one that ruined what Kana and I had, we were going to get married, we asked Akito for permission as head of the family but she lashed out and ended up hurting me in the process, she then blamed Kana for what happened, told her that it was her fault and it caused Kana to go into a state of severe depression, the only way that I could think to save her was to make her forget that she had ever met me.” Hatori explained. “So you were scared of Akito?” You asked. “And what she might do to you.” Hatori added. “Ever since we were little she didn’t like you around, she hated that you knew of our curse and that you stayed anyway, that we were so close, she was happy when you left, with how possessive she was becoming I couldn’t see that happen to you too.” “So instead of talking to me about it you decided to try and push me away?” You asked, there was no judgement in your voice, you were just getting your facts straight “so what has changed now?” “Tohru, she managed to break the curse, we are no longer bound to Akito.” He explained. “The first thing that I thought of doing was coming here to explain what happened and try to make it better.” “You’ve made a good start.” You informed him “but what about Kana?” “Kana I have no problem leaving in my past, she wasn’t and still isn’t the woman that I have wanted.” He explained. “I promise from here on out I will prove to you everyday that I deserve to have you in my life in whatever way you want.” “Then prove it.” You prompted and you could see it on his face, that he intended to do just that.

*Part 2*

Request Here!!

#fruits basket #fruit basket oneshot #fruit basket x reader #fruit basket imagine #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #female reader

27 notes · View notes

animentality · 9 months ago

Note

Now I need to know what you think is missing from Wyll, Karlach, and Gale’s character arcs. For Wyll and Karlach, the emotional character moments to not feel as important as they should be. Karlach’s goal of killing Gortash doesn’t doesn’t relate to her current issue with Zariel and Wyll kind of has a flat character arc from hero for Baldur’s gate to hero for the sword coast and then hero for Avernus or back to Baldur’s gate. Gale’s is a bit harder for me to point out the major issue but I think it’s that the consequences of his choices happen off screen after all the conflict.

Thanks for answering so many of my asks!

Yeah no worries, I enjoy thinking about Baldur's Gate, the same way a mental patient dreams of violent neurosis.

Anyway, here's my suggestion.

As it is, right now, it does NOT make sense for Zariel to want Karlach? She literally has armies of pit fiends and orthons for the Blood War. The fuck does she need some random tiefling for? And one who needs an Infernal Engine for a heart just to...barely keep up with real devils?

Why even use an Infernal Engine like that, anyway? You telling me you couldn't use that shit for something way more useful than making some random girl able to fight the devils that you already have at your disposal?

What makes wayyyyy more sense is...let's give Karlach a disability. She has a heart murmur, or some kind of heart abnormality. Let's say that in that day and age, such a thing could kill her.

Now Gortash is a thief. Let's say he STOLE an Infernal Engine, and he's dying to test it out. See how it works. Let's say he wants to test it out on a live subject, because he's a tinkerer. He tells Karlach he can fix her heart. And she's desperate, because she think she might have a heart attack, and die. So she agrees.

But instead of fixing her heart, he replaces it with an Infernal Engine. And she's furious, because, they find out, it's unstable and it has to return to Avernus.

And Gortash, being the prick he is, just shrugs and condemns her to the hells, because he has what he wants. He now knows how the Infernal Engine works. He's "nice" enough to send Karlach to the hells, though. Let's say he might have soooome connect, who can at least direct Karlach to Zariel.

So Zariel, being a little more sympathetic than most, takes Karlach in. Gives her a home. Teaches her how to fight, and recruits her for her cause, mostly out of pity. But then Karlach gets tired of fighting in the Blood War. She betrays Zariel, by running away, and that's when she gets tadpoled.

And it'd be a slap in the face for Zariel, because she took that girl in, when no one else would've! So she's hurt and betrayed, and that's why she's hunting Karlach. She hates traitors.

So that's re-framing Karlach! It makes more sense to me this way, because as it is, Zariel has no reason to want Karlach, OR to hunt for her. And also, Gortash's relationship with Karlach is still preserved, just shifted, to make more sense.

And her ending arc could be...force Gortash to fix her heart, after he's learned enough about Infernal Engines to now know how to do that. And confront Zariel.

Let's say Mizora too, or at least Mizora.

You could have a great boss fight somewhere interesting, maybe go to the hells...whatever.

And her entire character arc could go from "sad golden retriever who gets kicked and then DIES" to:

"I was betrayed by someone I used to care about, who used me for his own benefits. I am 'stronger' now than I was before, but at a cost. I was taken in by someone kind...and then I betrayed them. And now, I'm on the run because of that decision...but I did get dealt a pretty shit hand in life. I must now confront the man who hurt me, and apologize to the woman I then hurt as a result of my past trauma."

At the very least, we could see her evolving. She seems innocent and sweet at first...and then you find out, she did some horrible things during the Blood War. She has PTSD. She's grizzled and disillusioned. And maybe she has a hard time trusting people, after being betrayed AND betraying someone who was kind to her. But with the help of Tav/Durge, she learns to stop running from her trauma. To face her old demons head on. Maybe she even drops her "cheerful" act and becomes colder. But in the end, when she's either killed Gortash and had Zariel fix her engine, OR had Gortash fix her engine, and then confronted Zariel, she could return to her happier self, just more honest this time about how she really feels.

Also, she wouldn't have to fucking die.

She'd have a proper working heart, and can live her life.

Now as for Wyll...

Sighing, because his arc is botched.

In the EA, I know he was originally more sleazy?

He like...was called the "fraud" of the Sword Coast. He was meant to be a more morally gray guy, who seems like a hero, but who actually made a deal with a devil for his powers. I didn't play EA, but from what I understand, you could confront him more for being fake?

I would like it if they'd kept this complexity. Have Wyll be putting on "airs" but also be more willing to hurt innocents in the guise of being a hero?

Have him be a little amoral.

But Tav/Durge can either push him to greater immorality...or end up making him a proper hero in the end. Someone his father could be proud of...or maybe. Confront the damage his father did to him, growing up, maybe trying to make him something he was not.

And basically, becoming a hero, but on his own terms, and rejecting his father's idea of what a hero is.

That could be an interesting thing to do with him. Have Mizora be that evil devil on his shoulder...and Karlach be the good angel, because she would basically be like, well...I don't want Mizora to come after me on behalf of Zariel, so...come on, bud.

As for Gale...

Well.

I don't know.

I haven't played through Gale's arc as much, but from what I understand, his biggest issue is that he doesn't get much of a quest in the end. Just the Sorcerous Sundries stuff, which is whatever. You get to decide if he picks the bad Gale ending, where his ambition destroys him, and he becomes just another asshole god, or if he chooses happiness, and becomes a teacher.

Just give him an actual ending quest. Let him fight either a representation of Mystra or Elminster!

Let him reject both of them.

I honestly hesitate to suggest ways to fix Gale, only because I don't know enough about him. To me, a character choosing happiness over ambition is a pretty solid arc.

I just think the execution at the END could've been better.

Also, not just exclusive to Gale...

one of the biggest issues with BG3 is the fact that they chose to split their time doing the dumb, play as an origin thing, rather than prioritizing letting the whole cast intermingle. They could've developed more chances for Tavs/ Durges to influence the party, together and individually, have their decisions matter throughout the entire story.

Instead, they gave us the backstories, and then we just decide literally in Act 3, are they gonna be good or evil.

You only get to see character development if you are ROMANCING them, which is just, terrible, because it limits you to only seeing one character truly develop. Also, even if you are romancing someone, then it's still not really showing you that development.

Like, for Astarion, right, let's say you're trying to convince him not to be Cazador 2.0...you just choose that.

Let him Ascend, or don't.

But your relationship with him doesn't have THAT much of an effect on him?

It would've been far more interesting if your actions in Act 1 and 2 decide what happens there, and there is NO going back by that point. Oh, you forced him to drink from Araj?

He's going to become Ascended, and you can't stop him.

Oh, you chose to encourage Gale's ambition in Act 1? He's becoming a god, good job.

Your Durge was nasty to everyone, and killed so many innocent people in Act 2?

Everyone should fucking leave your ass then. ESPECIALLY if you become the chosen of Bhaal.

That's my issue with the general character development of Baldur's Gate. It's left entirely to, pick dialogue option 1 or 2.

There's not an actual reason to get a character's approval up unless you want to have a sex scene with them.

There's only ONE thing that'll make characters leave, otherwise, they just smile on and don't care that you just killed Isobel for no reason.

And going back to the romance being used as the linchpin for character development...sure, Astarion must learn to trust you and be honest and stop trying to manipulate you. But you don't actually get to reprimand him for that sort of behavior. To challenge him. To force him to see how he's hurting himself, and others?

Like Astarion is a big asshole!! He's a racist, he's mean to kids, he approves of you being horrible.

But then at the end...he just...is good now?

Because you chose to be good, and he's just going along with you...but that's lazy writing.

You had to SHOW us. You had to make us REALIZE he's getting softer. And not just to you, but to everyone.

It makes no sense to me in the epilogue how Astarion just, is a hero now, for no reason. If you don't romance him, I mean, it defaults him to "hero."

And I just don't get that.

So anyway.

Too long of a post, but....

that's my big issue.

Karlach, Wyll, they get no character arcs, and have no depth. Their endings are unsatisfying and uninteresting.

And...BG3 needed to actually show the characters evolving. But they didn't have time to do that, because they chose instead to just, reveal the trauma of their backstory from Act 1...forget the characters have backstories in Act 2...and then decide if they want to be good or evil in Act 3.

And that's...really...boring. And they feel like cardboard cut outs by that point, and not people.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3

37 notes · View notes