#i'm more than happy to answer questions about it!! but some of the details are still being hashed out so please bear with me ^^;

[destinywillowleaf]

it's a little funny that this was the first art I actually made for idiot's guide and there's every possibility this interaction isn't even going to happen anymore

[moyazaika]

have your cake (and eat it too)

yandere! L Lawliet (death note) x gn! reader

cw; L is his own tw, imposter syndrome, explicit nsfw, mdni 18+

genie's notes; yayyy commissioned piece for @ozzgin !!! thank you ozzy my beloved for giving me the opportunity to write about my man ♡ if this feels long that's bc it is LOL i was having sm fun writing it got to 4k words,, can you tell i'm bonkers for this guy,, nevertheless, i hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing :D

“Take a picture,” you murmur. “It’ll last longer.”

“I know.”

You spare the man sitting besides you a quick glance. Despite the numerous dossiers emptied out onto the oak table before you, the detective’s attention is transfixed solely on you. Has been, for the past few hours. 

“Ryuzaki?” You try again, hoping he’ll get the hint this time.

Stop fucking staring at me.

No such luck. He only tilts his head to the side expectantly and you wonder, not for the first time, whether he enjoys playing the fool, or if he’s just truly ignorant of your discomfort. 

You don’t know which answer would be worse.

What you do know is that you can count on both hands the number of times you’ve been alone in a room with L. After all, it’s the exact same number of times that you’ve silently prayed for Kira to do you a favour and take you next.

The memory of the rest of the task force’s departure is still vivid. Yagami’s sympathetic smile. Matsuda’s shameless commiserations. 

You can barely think. The sensation is strangely claustrophobic. Even now, you can feel the weight of his gaze settling over you like a burden. 

With a weary sigh, you turn back to the pictures you’re thumbing through. All images of Kira’s most recent victims; their pale faces and milky eyes stare back at you with accusation. Months have passed without any sufficient leads and sure, you pull at loose threads when you can—but the mystery never quite unravels itself the way you hope for it to. There are no frayed edges. No loose seams. 

Whoever this guy is, you can tell the smug son of a bitch takes pride in his work. Has you working overtime, too. 

The wall clock across the room reads twenty minutes until five, but you didn’t really need to check the time to know that. With how high up you are, you can already glimpse the makeshift beginnings of dawn through the narrow gaps between Tokyo’s neon-lit buildings. 

Screw this.

You’re going to cut your losses; already know you’re not getting any work done in these conditions. Better to mull over the details in the privacy of your own space—far from prying eyes. 

You take the opportunity to flick through the pictures of civilian corpses once more, committing the details of the dead men’s faces to memory before finally tossing the alarmingly heavy file down onto the desk in front of you, where it lands with a resounding, strangely satisfying thud.

L doesn’t even flinch. 

“I’m going home,” you announce, actively making an effort to avoid meeting the man’s eyes. Your chair scrapes against the floor as you stand, and the noise is unbearably loud within the otherwise silent room. 

“So soon?”

You laugh at that. “It’s four in the morning, Ryuzaki.”

“Hm. So it is.”

“Time flies,” you shrug on your coat. “When are you going to leave?”

You ask out of politeness rather than any genuine curiosity. The question mumbled absently as you rummage around in your pockets for your hotel keycard. 

You’re not from Tokyo. Just staying here for as long as the task force needs you to. Called in months ago from a nearby prefecture because of your stellar track record. You like to think you’re intelligent, and that Japan’s top minds recognised that about you. You suppose it doesn’t really hurt that you’ve got some connections to the national police force. 

Though you’re glad to be trusted with the case, and happy to be here—you’ve never really cared much for the city of Tokyo itself. You miss the humdrum of the countryside; the constant chirping of cicadas hidden amidst tall blades of grass. A clear, blue sky unblemished by the fine points of soulless skyscrapers. Weaving through crowds without wondering whether one of them might be the mass murderer you’re hunting down.

L’s monotonous drawl snaps you out of your thoughts. Brings you back to exactly where you are right now and not necessarily where you’d prefer to find yourself, instead.

“I won’t.”

“You won’t?”

“Yes,” he repeats. Enunciates the syllables as if speaking to a child. No further clarification.

“I’m sorry.” You’re really not. “Are you seriously going to sleep here again?” You honestly don’t mean to sound disrespectful but the incredulity in your tone is difficult to mask. Much less in the presence of the world’s greatest detective. 

The stories are true. You found them difficult to believe at first, but since then, you’ve confirmed the extent of L’s genius with your own observations. The man before you can function perfectly without any sleep for days on end. You remember the first time you’d left the office; come back the next morning to find L hadn’t moved an inch from where you’d left him last night. 

Even still, it’s hard not to notice the prominent bags under his black eyes. The state of his clothes, all crumpled. The greasy, unkempt hair that frames his face. Despite his intellect, he’s still only human.

Even if it can be alarmingly easy to forget that.

“Why?” L asks blankly. “Are you offering me an alternative?”

Briefly, you think of the deputy director learning, come morning, that you’d left L to his own devices; The hard lines of disappointment marring his features. The disapproval in his otherwise polite gaze. He can’t be left alone. Something about being far too valuable, if you recall correctly. Or did he say vulnerable?

Regardless, you already feel like some charity case, even though you know that you’ve clawed your way to be here; called in favours and kissed the feet of men far beneath you. You deserve to be on the Kira task force as much as everybody else. Yet, you know what your answer will be long before you’ve even said anything. 

Something tells you L knows, too. He’s never been the sort of man to ask questions that serve him no greater purpose. 

Sometimes, you detest people like Matsuda for the ease with which they inhabit such unwelcoming spaces so boldly. The ability to exist so openly, without inhibition. But you detest yourself most of all, especially in moments like this where you’re burdened by the need to prove your belonging.

Well– 

Are you offerring me an alternative?

–Shit.

“Yes.” you concede, not even bothering to look back at him as you reach to call for the elevator. Press the button with considerably more force than you should. “I suppose I am.” 

You’re not nice. You’re certainly not charitable. But you are easy.

You spare him an exasperated glance over your shoulder when the doors finally slide open with a yielding sigh. From behind you, L makes no indication to move. You begin to doubt if he’s even heard you. Or, more specifically, whether he was ever really listening to begin with. His black eyes can feel so fucking vacant, sometimes.

“You coming?” you impatiently tap your foot against the carpeted floor as you hold the elevator open with narrowed eyes. “Or do I need to send you an invitation, Ryuzaki?”

“No need.” At that, L finally stands. He offers you one of his rare, private smiles; “I believe you already have.”

-

There are a couple of things you come to notice about L that day, when the ongoing investigation isn’t at the forefront of your buzzing mind.

It’s there, of course, because it’s difficult for any person to forget all of those dead faces; the list of unanswered questions growing by the hour—but the moment you slide your key into the lock and it turns with a satisfying click to open right into your little hotel room, it feels like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

Take, for example, L’s penchant to be barefoot. He immediately steps out of his shoes the moment you kick the door shut behind you. Sinks his toes into the carpet (stained, and scratchy) with a blissful sigh. 

You're choosing to ignore that.

Better not to drive yourself up the wall by paying attention to every little thing he does.

“Hungry?” you shrug off your coat and toss it onto the sofa.

“Sure.” And it’s not exactly a response, but you think this is the best you’re going to get from the man. Go rummaging through the fridge straight away, as you wave for him to take a sit in the tiny living room across from you. 

“I know you have a sweet tooth,” The leather sofa crackles beneath his weight as he perches right on the edge, legs tucked up against his chest and his head resting over his knees sideways; so that he’s watching you in the kitchen. “So I’m cutting you a slice of some cake I made last weekend. Couldn’t finish it by myself if I tried.”

You eye him wearily as you set down the plates on the coffee table before the sofa, making sure to leave as much distance as is possible between the two of you when you sit down.

He sort of reminds you like a cat when he's like this, all curled up and comfortable. When he tries his first spoonful of sponge cake, he might as well start purring with delight. “This is good,” he mumbles between bites. “I didn’t know you could bake.”

“Yeah?” You impatiently drum your fingers against the armrest. “Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

The moment stretches for longer than it should. 

You meet the detective’s eyes head on, find they’re as wide as saucers, staring back at you; and peering right inside. It feels downright voyeuristic and so fucking violating, the way you can feel him peeling back everything that you are to assess something nestled much, much deeper within. 

You look away first, and the moment you do, you hear L hum approvingly—he sounds pleased, almost.

And though you know he would never seriously consider you competition, you still can’t shake the strange feeling that you’ve lost at something.

“No." L concludes. "No, I don’t think so.”

He sets his plate down on the table with a clink and you’re not surprised to find he’s already finished eating. All that remains is a single cherry; so violently red against the pale porcelain it sits on. 

“Tell me,” He pinches the stem between his forefinger and thumb, and it’s the first reprieve you’re gifted from the weight of his calculating gaze; as his attention shifts to the sweet fruit he holds. “Why do you hate me?”

Shit, you realise your fingers are digging into the cracks in the leather armrest; flex your hand a few times before making an attempt to calmly fold them in your lap. Maybe because you make me feel like a fucking failure?

“I think you’re too smart for your own good.”

He gives that some thought. “As are you.”

It’s laughable, really. L is leagues above you in terms of intelligence. Prestige. Power. Who are you standing next to one of the greatest minds in the world? Who are you to deign that he recognises you?

You refuse to even recognise yourself. 

“You don’t believe that,” you scoff. 

“I do. I knew it from the moment you were first introduced to me.” 

You pick up on something strange about the way he phrases it; the necessity of awareness required from both parties in a first introduction.

I'm losing it.

You shake your head, abandoning the tendrils of something akin to unease that had just begun to creep up on you. When else would he have first known you? It's a stupid thought. You’re not exactly the sort of person preceded by some magnificent reputation. 

“Sure,” you decide to entertain him nevertheless, if only to see how far he’ll go. You wonder whether this is as close to gratitude as L can express, but is it for the hospitality or for the cake or for something in between? “And why was that, Ryuzaki?”

“L,” he corrects you. “Because even then, you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“And that’s what supposedly makes me a genius?” you scrunch your nose, “because I don’t like you?”

“So you insist on maintaining,” he drawls. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Did you know, detective,” L ventures thoughtfully, “your heart rate always spikes quite dramatically whenever you’re alone with me.” His black eyes flicker to meet yours as he breaks off the stem—pops the cherry between his grinning lips. 

You dig your nails into the skin of your palm. Focus on the sharp sensations of precise pain; imagine the little indents of crescent moons that will litter your skin later on. 

“Ah,” your voice is unfamiliar even to your own ears. “Is that so?”

He eats the stem next, and you notice, not for the first time, that the man's skin is so pale, it’s like a thin sheet has been stretched tight over brittle bones. You can easily trace the jagged lines of blue and purple veins that curl around and underneath his face.

L’s lithe fingers reach into his mouth where the dark stem sits between his teeth. You catch a glimpse of his tongue as he pulls out the stem, now damp, and examines it between his fingers; holds it up to the light.

It takes you a few moments to realise he must be admiring his efforts. Or, rather just observing them. You’re not really sure if L is capable of awe. Whether he cares for it, given how easily he earns it; must not mean much to him.

(You’ll find out later that he is capable of awe, though there are more important things he hopes to garner.)

The cherry stem’s all folded up on itself; he’s tied it into a knot with his tongue. 

Instinctively, your eyes dart to his mouth. “I didn’t know you could do that,” you confess lowly. “Neat party trick, huh?”

And the moment you voice the thought, you wish you’d stayed silent. The curl of his lips is infuriatingly self-satisfied, as if he’s in on some grand secret you’re not quite privy to; it feels the closest L will ever get to outright mockery, yet even then, there is something you must have mistaken for sincerity in his gaze. 

You’re not sure whether that makes you feel better, or worse.

“There’s a lot,” L confesses slowly, “that you don’t know about me.”

It doesn’t escape you that even something as simple as this sounds truer when L says it.

-

Later, the dishes have been cleared away and though you can barely keep your eyes open, you’re rummaging through your suitcase to pass him a new toothbrush because, you insist, you always carry spares. L admits he's never had to brush his own teeth before.

One hand on his jaw, and another curled around the brand new toothbrush you'd managed to dig out for him, you give him a reluctant demonstration.

You don't think he listens to a word you say; his attention seems to be focused elsewhere.

After his turn, you pad into the attached bathroom and brush your own teeth with the overhead lights switched off.

Tired, you don’t notice as you unscrew the lid of your old toothpaste that your own brush’s bristles are wet, whereas the toothbrush you’d handed to L is still unopened in its plastic packaging, left positioned neatly by the basin. 

-

L is garishly tall. 

It can be easy to forget that considering how often he’s hunched over a desk or curled up in a chair. When he stretches to yawn, his shirt rides up his abdomen, revealing a pale sliver of skin underneath. You avert your gaze. The last thing you need is to be caught staring.

“Take the bed,” you offer, already sinking into the loveseat's cushions.

L stares at you as he scratches his jaw. “I don’t sleep in beds.”

You don’t even want to begin deciphering that statement. You’re beginning to think this cryptic act is purposeful; that he gets off on being evasive. Out of reach. 

You’re not even sure if he can see you, considering how dark it is in the room, but you put on your sweetest smile all the same. It feels vindictive and thrilling and you believe it’s the least he deserves.

“Well, cheers to trying new things, Ryuzaki.”

He says nothing in response, and even though he’s nothing more than a vague silhouette in the absence of light, you manage to make out the slowly way he climbs into the bed—crawls to the edge of the Queen bed that’s closest to your own spot. Pulls up the duvet to his chin, and lies on his side so he's directly facing you.

It’s unnerving. You wish desperately in times like these that you could click his head open like a purse and look inside; it's impossible to tell what he's thinking.

And then he starts talking.

-

Finally, there’s a lull in your conversation that stretches far too long.

You make no effort to salvage the exchange, relishing in its conclusion, and much to your relief, neither does your partner. It’s not necessarily that L’s bad company but it’s also not not that he’s impossibly infuriating to talk to. You just want to sleep. It's been a long fucking day.

You close your eyes, allowing a welcome silence to settle inside the stuffy room. 

…

Then you try to ignore it.

…

You really, really do.

…

Much to your dismay, even your best efforts prove futile. The quiet doesn’t last nearly as long as you’d like. 

“Ryuzaki,” In the face of overwhelming fatigue, all niceties are forgotten and honesty reigns supreme. “Why the fuck can I feel your eyes on me?”

“I can’t sleep,” he simply responds, in lieu of a proper answer. 

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so tired. Unlike him, you unfortunately do not have the seemingly inhumane ability to function properly without multiple consecutive nights of sleep. So, with a long sigh, you decide to let it slide.

Just one more time. 

Then, with disapproval evident in your weary voice, because it would feel too much like accepting defeat to say nothing at all; “you know, normal people usually just count sheep.”

“Mm." The sheets rustle. "Sleep well.” 

“...Thanks. You, too.”

Behind the heavy blackout curtains of the hotel room, the sky turns a soft, dreamy lilac. 

Outside, some parts of Tokyo wake up to the mellifluous sound of morning’s first birdsong, and others take that as their queue to drunkenly stumble home in search of a warm bed to fall into.

On the busy streets dozens of stories below yours, the city moves as it always does. Vibrant and alive—though waiting with bated breath in anticipation of death; Kira the only constant in this new world.

You don’t even realise you’ve dozed off in the armchair; sleep is simply a welcome reprieve from such a long day. A privilege, and not the routine it used to be.

You dream of running away from something. Of simply falling through a solid floor.

Conversely, though he has taken your advice, L finds rest evades him.

Content with staying awake, he takes the rare opportunity to simply observe you from across the room, and it’s such a fascinating sight, to finally see you so at peace. You usually run on such a short fuse. Well-meaning, but difficult to deal with nonetheless. You like to be seen; hate to be stared at. 

Aren’t you a charmer?

In the pale beginnings of dawn, he is a silent shepherd. He smiles at the thought, whilst gnawing on his thumbnail. 

The sheep he counts all have your face.

-

You’re not sure what exactly it is that wakes you up, but it’s quiet when you do.

Even still, something causes you to stir, and before you know it, you’re pulled out of a sleep you hadn’t even realised you’d fallen into with bleary, blinking eyes that adjust to the dark and land on—

Nothing. A startling absence where L’s body should be.

The bed’s empty, and the crinkled duvet has been hastily tossed to one side. You notice that the warm glow of the nauseatingly yellow bathroom lighting spills out from behind the door, left open just a crack. It strikes you as strange, that the door’s not fully closed. You feel justified in looking in. Call it concern. Curiosity. 

Does it really matter?

“Ryuzaki?” you venture, stepping closer. No answer. The silence is strangely more overbearing when you’re standing right in front of the bathroom door. With a hand resting on the brass knob, you decide to try once more. “Hey. L?” Silence, still and true.

It feels a lot like peering into Pandora’s box, when you inevitably do push the door open. 

Look inside. And, huh—

There is L, hunched over the sink. 

In one hand, he is holding what is unmistakably your underwear. You recognise the soft cotton instinctively, even though it’s balled up tight in his fist and he’s pressing the fabric against his nose; shuddering when he breathes in, languidly long and deep like a desperate smoker's drag of his last cigarette.

The lighting overhead casts sweeping shadows over his pale face, but despite the darkness the rest of his features are enshrouded in, you still manage to make out those black eyes; blown wide, wide open. Thick and heavy like eerily lucid, deep, dark pools of tar you can feel yourself getting sucked into.

His hand works at a methodologically steady pace. His breathing is perfectly controlled as he works at his cock with deft fingers. His tip is flushed a painful pink, leaks pre that’s been smeared down the shaft’s length. Between glimpses, you manage to make out prominent veins that eagerly pulse in response to his touch. 

Proud. Heavy.

Hungry to sink into something far tighter than his fist.

—Your breath catches in your throat. It is impossible to look away. 

The following moments are hazy, at best. Time seems to slow down to a crawl when the scene before you clicks into place, and the world moves in still frames after that; the last one lingering too long and imposing over the next. 

You don’t remember saying anything, but you must have let a gasp slip past your parted lips. Stumbled backwards, perhaps. Some involuntary indication of your presence, peering in behind him.  

Time fractures completely when L looks up; gaze snapping straight to meet yours in the mirror.

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection, looking so laughably petrified—clearly just having rolled out of bed. There is not a single thing to be said as he lets his black eyes wander, appraisal silent and shameless as he drinks in the state of you; all tousled hair and crumpled clothes and bare feet. 

His hands work faster then. His movements grow jerkier, breathing shallow. Eyes flutter shut, finally looking away from you, as his grip on your underwear tightens—knuckles white from the sheer effort of holding on, refusing to let go and inhaling your scent—nose buried desperately deep in the dirty cotton. Pathetically fervent. Chasing that blissful high with a new vigour. 

You have been taught by many a smart man to never go seeking answers to questions when you do not wish to face them.

And so, when you glimpse this stranger’s tongue dart out to wet his cracking, dry lips the exact moment they wrap around the shape of a familiar name—hear the syllables repeated with a devotion akin to reverence; something like prayer—the man shudders exactly when you do.

Comes undone just as you slam the door shut.

You’re standing there in what you think might be shock, with a shaking hand resting against the doorknob. You choose to focus on the way in which the hair on your arm stands on end. Because if it’s not that, it’d be the sound of the tap running. 

The door swings open abruptly. The man breezes past you, and quietly crawls back into bed. Rooted to where you stand, it’s all you can do to turn over your shoulder and observe him.

He catches you staring, merely tilts his head to the side from where he’s settled into the sheets, a coy little lilt to his lips. 

For the first time, you’re the one who doesn’t look away. Couldn’t, even if you tried. Stygian strands of hair fall over his eyes, the darkest black they’ve ever been. Despite the fact that it feels like you’re staring at a stranger, facing him is familiar, as it always is; like wading into a thick tar.

Viscous and heavy and clinging.

You might’ve missed what he said if you weren’t so hyper focused on his every minute movement. His words are barely above a whisper, after all, and carry a strange lilt—as if recited, almost. Like he’s reading a line; performing some private joke.

“Take a picture,” L smiles knowingly. “It’ll last longer.”

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Cupid Walks Right.

Spencer Reid x Avoidant!BAU!reader

series mastelist | main masterlist

Summary: You've been hiding your attraction to your coworker for a long time, until a few pictures of him kissing a celebrity in a pool unleash emotions you can't control.

Words: 1,6k.

Warnings & Tags: fem!bau!reader. mentions of crime and arms. spoilers for s1 e18 ("somebody's watching"). hurt+comfort. two idiots in love. lots of jealousy. fluff. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: The reader is simply me every time I watch that episode but with a lot more drama to make it interesting.

One bullet after another hit the paper meters away from you, with each shot more accurate than the previous one. You had lost count of how many cartridges you had already spent because your mind was full of thoughts that only the sound of the shots echoing in the shooting room managed to silence and give you back a little control of the situation.

Memories of one of the last cases still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't understand why. It hadn't even been something relevant enough to stick in your mind that much, it was just a crazy stalker obsessed with a celebrity and more of the same old same old in terms of creating a profile. It was nothing you hadn't seen before, and it had ended well, with a happy ending that included Spencer kissing the victim he was supposed to be protecting.

That was the crux of the issue, the root of your problem.

You saw some photos that captured the moment in vivid detail and wanted to run out and throw up in the nearest trash can. You held back to avoid answering embarrassing questions, blaming your bad feelings on the last thing you ate and insisting that you were just satisfying your curiosity. But as they say, curiosity always kills the cat.

Maybe it was because it was unprofessional and unnecessary, maybe you were in a bad mood and needed to relax, maybe you were upset that the guy with the germ problem had shared saliva with a stranger, maybe you didn't like Lila Archer because of her performances, or maybe you just wanted to be in her shoes and have him kiss you like that. And for heaven's sake, maybe you've had a few inappropriate dreams about it lately.

You were just about to fire again to get the thoughts out of your mind when someone tapped you on the shoulder. You turned around, ready to defend yourself with the gun in your hand.

“Wait, wait, it's me. I'm sorry.” Spencer raised his arms in a sign of peace and took a few steps back. “Just me.”

“What are you doing here? You scared me.” You lowered the gun and placed it on the table, trying to sound less abrupt. “I thought everyone had gone home.”

He approached you again, checking the open shells and the pile of bullets on the ground. He was quite surprised to see how many times you had hit the target with perfect shots, and how you still seemed intent on continuing, even though it was almost two in the morning. It wasn't practice, because you didn't need it, it was something else, and you seemed quite angry about it.

“I spent the hour going through some papers and saw the light on in here. I thought I'd come and have a look.” He explained, trying to follow your gaze, which seemed to elude his. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, perfect.”

You started gathering your things and cleaning up the space you'd been using, planning to leave as soon as possible because of his presence. It had been weeks since you'd been alone with him because you'd managed to avoid seeing him as best you could. You'd even managed to convince Hotch that it was time for him to pair you up with someone else during the cases to experiment. You didn't even know why he'd listened to you, but it had been a great relief.

“You're leaving already?” Spencer asked, and you just nodded. “Can I take you home?”

Usually he drove you home, because your car was still at the mechanic and you refused to buy a new one. You always used the minutes you spent together to talk about something other than cases, they were moments of relaxation that you both appreciated. The big difference was that now you couldn't afford that luxury without feeling strange.

“Don't worry, I'll call a taxi.” You grabbed your jacket from a nearby locker. “I'm fine.” You added, with the intention of heading for the door until he stopped you by the wrist.

“Is everything okay...between us?” He asked as you looked up to meet his eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You said, feigning confusion. You always knew it was only a matter of time before he figured something was off with you. After all, he worked in profiling.

“Are you mad at me?” He asked again, in a lower voice, sounding a little more vulnerable than he'd intended. That instantly made you feel bad, you didn't want to hurt him with your confusion.

“No.”

He let out a sigh at your automatic response. His shoulders slumped a bit, and he felt a wave of relief for a few seconds. But then he looked into your eyes for a moment and hesitated, biting his lower lip.

“So...why are you looking at me like that?” He asked, sounding a little shy and with a hint of apprehension in his voice. “Or not looking at me at all.”

“I'm not doing anything.” You make excuses.

He got the chills when he heard your voice, which came across as cold and distant.

“You're giving me that look.”

You gave a little frown and folded your arms, as if to say you didn't agree.

“What look?"

“You look at me like I've done something wrong, like you're disappointed or angry...I think both. You barely look me in the eye, you walk away every time I want to talk to you, you don't sit near me on the jet or want to work with me anymore. And you've been like this for a week.” He paused for a second, remembering when your strange behavior started. “Ever since the L.A. case.”

The room was suddenly filled with silence and a palpable tension. You had been foolish to think Spencer wouldn't notice your remoteness, given his perceptive nature. But you didn't have a choice. You didn't want to appear jealous when you didn't even have feelings for him, you were just ovulating or something like that.

“Is it because...because of Lila? I heard Morgan say some things, and you haven't treated me the same since.” His wavering voice sounded more and more confident, as if he still had to convince himself of his point of view. “I want to know what you think, please.”

You could only curse Derek for exposing you like that. He was the only one who knew about your strange attraction to Reid because he had caught you looking at him several times and you had confessed it to him once in a bar after several drinks and a ridiculous game of cross questions. Since that night, the jokes and suggestions about making out with Spencer under a tree had begun.

But a beautiful actress did it before you, in her pool, with lots of pictures to prove it.

“I'm not one to tell you what to do, but I think your actions were unprofessional and most of all risky.” You spoke after a few seconds, clearing your throat and trying to contain the burning you felt. “It could have ended badly.”

Come on, you would have done the same thing. You often thought about what it would be like to kiss him in the middle of an investigation, especially when he kept giving important details. So you were a little hypocritical.

“I'm only saying that because I care about you.” You added, noticing how confused he looked.

“I know, I care about you too.” He replied calmly, taking a step toward you to touch your arm. “This has been bothering you?”

You froze at his warm touch and the implications you thought he was making about you, nodding as if hypnotized. Had he realized that you had been jealous all along? That you wanted to go back so he could kiss you and not her? That you wanted him to put his hands on your cheeks and kiss you deeply until you were breathless?

“I think I understand, but don't worry about me. I won't do anything dangerous anymore.”

Oh, he hadn't noticed.

Spencer really thought that you were just concerned about his safety because he was your friend and your partner on cases, that you were just frustrated that you weren't there to back him up in case things went wrong. It didn't even occur to him that it was something much deeper and more heated than that.

“So, all good?” He gave you a small smile that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Sure.” You lied, with a strange lump in your throat at the guarded words. “I just didn't know you liked blondes.” You added in a fake teasing tone.

Despite your clearly suspicious tone, Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Actually, I like your hair color.”

A strange bubbling sensation reached your stomach and made you smile.

“Mine?” You asked, lowering your gaze to the floor.

“Yes, it's like it's perfect for you.” He carefully brushed your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, causing the feeling in your stomach to identify itself as butterflies fluttering nonstop.

“You're telling me because I have a gun?” You tried to change the subject with a nervous laugh. “I'm not a celebrity, after all.”

“You don't have to be one to be as pretty as you are. But you could be if you wanted to, and...” He started to talk about statistics and a bunch of data you didn't even know, but strangely enough you didn't listen to him this time because you were stuck on the first sentence.

Spencer really thought you were pretty.

It was only then that you realized something had changed. The only successful shot had been Cupid's arrow to your heart.

Because, damn it, you were totally in love with that man.

[radiant-reid]

Reunion

Summary: JJ never knew you were dating one of her teammates and that you broke up because of her, but seeing him at JJ's wedding years later changes things.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (Angst then smutttt)

Content Warning: 18+ Smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of a breeding kink)

Word Count: 2.1k

"So, how's mystery boy?"

After skipping your usual Tuesday night plans twice, thanks to JJ being away on cases, you're finally back in your best friend's living room having a glass of wine and a cheese platter.

It's been an abnormal amount of time to go without seeing each other since you both ended up in DC after moving out of East Allegheny to different colleges. Even with men in the mix now, you both make it a priority to see each other as often as possible. However, her busy schedule and frequent flights to New Orleans have meant you've spent some time apart.

Unknown to her, she knows the so-called mystery boy. Very well, in fact. "He's well." You say slyly, unable not to grin widely.

JJ throws her head back dramatically. "Come on, Y/n! Some detail would be nice."

"It's good." You try again. "He's the sweetest. I'm very happy."

She smirks, letting you know an interesting question is coming your way. "How's the sex?"

It never takes more than a glass of wine for her to be that loose. You don't miss a beat in your answer. "Fabulous."

"Okay, so can I meet him soon?" She pushes like she has been for quite some time.

You wonder what she would think. What would her expression do if you were to say his name out loud right here? Maybe it's not that deep but getting with JJ's closest colleague is dangerous. It was a concern at the start, a reason not to start, but you fell in love with Spencer Reid quicker than you could ever imagine.

"Sure, JJ." You agree, trying to look positively about it. You can only assume she's thinking about the worst possible scenario about your mystery man. He's a criminal or he's far too old for you or he's an ex you promised not to get back with. There are too many options.

She looks triumphant. "Yes!"

You just smile, sending the conversation in a different direction by asking about her boyfriend. He sounds like a great guy and you can tell she's happier than ever before.

Three months ago you met Spencer Reid. It was JJ's birthday and your duty as her best friend to throw her a fun surprise party. That took some coordination with a friend from work. Firstly, that was Penelope, but in order to lure JJ, you needed Spencer Reid. He was a little slow with replying to your texts, but lovely. And after you met him, you were hooked.

Spencer was perfect. Gorgeous, funny, intelligent. His incredible shyness had you confused when he asked you out for dinner the next morning.

Too many espresso martinis provide an explanation for why JJ has no recollection of you flirting with him all night.

You see Spencer as much as you can, but similar to JJ's, his schedule often doesn't allow for consistent visits. So whatever time you do have, you make the most of it. He's still the most amazing boyfriend you've had. Kind, caring, witty, fun, and playful.

He gets whisked away on a case to Miami not long after being home. You didn't know things would be so different the next time you saw him.

He goes quiet on you. You know their cases are intense but you haven't heard from him in an entire week and that's not right.

Can I come over? He finally texts you and you're guessing he's back in DC.

It sounds a little ominous and the message sends a chill down your spine. Sure. I can't wait to see you. There isn't a reply and you sit in limbo in your apartment for almost an hour before he knocks at the door.

You smile when you open it, although you're slightly annoyed there was zero communication or ETA from him. "Hey, Spence, how was it?"

"You knew." He says in a cold, accusatory tone. It's nothing you've ever heard from him.

"Sorry?" You repeat, moving to the side so he can come into your apartment.

He steps in, barely looking at you. "About JJ and Will." He explains.

A little frown takes over your expression. Surely he's not angry that he only just found out. An awkward laugh leaves your lips. "Sorry, Spence. She didn't want anyone knowing."

"I'm your boyfriend!" He exclaims. "You're not supposed to lie to me."

"I didn't." You join the offensive, crossing your arms. You're not enthused about what he's accusing you of. It wasn't even your secret to tell him.

He looks disappointed, face dropping. "Come on." He sighs. "How am I meant to be with you if you don't trust me enough to tell me who our friend is dating?"

"It wasn't my secret to tell." You try to talk some reason into him, pushing down that sick feeling in your stomach telling you that he's breaking up with you.

Spencer shakes his head, his decision- as much as it's killing him- completely made. "I can't do this."

His words make your world come crashing down and you almost can't believe it. You slump to the couch while he makes his way to the door with sad, slow footsteps.

He's looking at you, waiting for you to ask him to say. "Can we not tell JJ?" You ask softly.

"Fine." That's the last thing he tells you before walking out the door, shutting it firmly.

That's it.

The last thing Spencer tells you.

Then he's gone from your life. You talk about him less to JJ and she picks up on what happened and stops asking about him.

You expect to see him when Henry's born, or even at a point in his life. Somehow, you don't. Your schedules never line up and then JJ switches jobs. There's a myriad of reasons but it doesn't happen. You both go on with separate lives.

And then JJ and Will are getting married. You get a frantic call from your best friend's soon-to-be-husband who whispers secret plans to you over the phone. It's perfect, you know JJ will adore the simplicity and elegance of a backyard wedding.

You're there as soon as you can be, helping set up Rossi's backyard so it's gorgeous for the most gorgeous person you know.

You're the maid of honor, of sorts. And you don't get a chance to ask who the best man is before JJ arrives and the ceremony begins.

You strike out as soon as you spot a tall brunette. A tall brunette who made you the happiest you've ever been with a man. And he's still just as handsome.

His eyes bulge when he sees you but he keeps a straight face and clenches his teeth while the ceremony continues. You're mostly focused on how beautiful JJ looks and how sweet their wedding is, but you can't help your mind drifting to Spencer.

You hadn't seen him dressed up like this when you were dating and the tuxedo is a perfect look on him.

"Y/n." He comes up to you when you're getting yourself a glass of champagne.

"Spencer." You reply. His tone doesn't let much about how he's feeling on. All you get is a glimmer of shock.

He stands against the table. "Maid of honor?"

You shrug, a little confused at his question. "You know, I'm surprised I haven't seen you all these years." You admit, letting some honesty slip.

"It was slightly intentional." He offers.

You don't let it offend you. "Best man?"

"I think that means we're supposed to sleep together."

You nearly spit out your sip of wine. There's no way the shy Spencer Reid you once knew just said that.

"We've done that." You reply, trying to keep a straight face after the out-of-pocket comment.

Spencer tilts his head to the side. "You're right."

You really don't know how it happens. Maybe it's a few too many drinks. There's definitely not enough alcohol in your bloodstream to solely blame that. Spencer Reid is as hot as they get. And it's been... longer than you're willing to admit since you've had sex. Even longer since it was good sex.

So there isn't anything telling you to stop when Spencer pushes you up against the door of a room in Rossi's house, lips firmly against yours.

Your dress is hiked up around your waist while his fingers trace up and down your thigh before he even thinks about locking the door. Both of you are far too wrapped up in the moment to think securely.

His hands are quick to the zip of your dress, sliding it down effortlessly and letting it pool at your feet. He takes a moment to look at you and you have to admit, you're a little worried about his reaction. You don't doubt Spencer Reid can pull beautiful women.

"God, you're gorgeous." He says softly, juxtaposing the way he's practically clawing your clothes off you.

"Are you going to compliment me or fuck me like you promised you would?" You ask him, waltzing over to the bed and sitting on the edge.

Spencer smirks at your smart mouth. "You asked for it."

He's kneeling on the floor in front of the bed in seconds, with no regard for his suit pants being wrinkled, just on his knees. There's a sense of urgency that doesn't allow for the time for him to take your panties off so he opts for shifting them to the side.

There's also no time to waste as his tongue melds with your folds, tracing patterns. No one has ever come close to giving head like Spencer does. It's truly mindblowing, the pressure of his tongue and the suction method he uses. You're instantly in bliss, head thrown back against the covers as you moan.

You've lost it when his fingers enter you, pushing past with little resistance. "Holy shit, Spencer. You're incredible."

"Sing my praises." He says against your pussy.

You do. Not even possessing the ability to be embarrassed about it.

And you don't stop. You're withering and moaning on the bed, tugging his curls while he continues pleasing you. Eventually, it's too much. His fingers pumping in and out of you combined with his tongue wrapped around your clit have you finishing in no time.

"Still as good as I remember." As if he couldn't get any hotter, he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

Spencer rises from his knees, now much taller than you. You tug your underwear off before unclipping your bra. "Fuck me, Spencer." You reach out for his belt buckle, toying with it. "Please."

Spencer has lost the shy, timid nature he had the first few times you had sex and he quickly takes off his belt and pants. Once his suit jacket is tossed across the room, Spencer pulls your legs to the end of the bed, making sure you wrap your ankles around his waist. His hands rest on either side of your head and you're precisely where you want to be.

"You're so hot." You tell him with a smirk.

He grins, spreading your legs and inching inside you. The look on his face is an instant confidence boost. Clearly, he's a man in bliss, head thrown back and tongue parting his lips.

"Fuck." He pants.

You agree, barely able to speak from how hard he's pounding you and how good it feels. Although it's annoying to admit, you've never had as good sex as with Spencer.

Your hands wrap around his forearms, noticeably bigger than last time. "Spencer." You moan. "Please. So good."

He caresses your chest, paying attention to your boobs like he hadn't before. "Y/n." He groans, not slowing his pace up. His hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. "Can I?" He asks.

It's unlike you to have even let him start without protection but you're not thinking straight enough. All you know is you need Spencer. "Please."

He finishes as deep inside you as he can get, leaning down to kiss you softly. You're breathless like he is when he flops down next to you.

One of Spencer's palms touches your cheek, forcing you to look at him rather than the ceiling. "Hey, pretty girl." He says softly and it makes your heart flip in a way it shouldn't. "Can I take you on a date, Y/n?"

The smile creeping onto your face can't be helped. "Yes. Please."

[lilibrownlabonita]

Teeth-Robert Reynolds x reader

Summary: Bob can't brush his teeth. Warning: Depressive episodes, destructive habits, self-hatred, emotional breakdown and everything that's bad about depression. Work count: ~4k A/n: For a change, English is not my native language.

Bob sometimes doesn't want to brush his teeth. He's embarrassed to admit that he's gone more than a week without washing his face, using a toothbrush... and washing his body.

It's part of everyday life to fight self-sabotage, but Bob now feels pressured to keep hygiene to a minimum. What if you could smell the flour mixed with the milk from the pancakes he ate this morning? What if his hair was stuck to his forehead, dripping with grease, and he accidentally kissed your lips and made a mess of your face? If his body, which sweat easy, pushed you away in disgust?

Although it was uncomfortable to feel this pressure of false judgment from you, false because he knew, deep down, that you would never judge his habits, he still thought you deserved a boyfriend who was minimally clean, so every day he made a point of it. He made a point of cleaning his teeth and sometimes, when he was feeling strong enough, flossing, he made a point of showering at least once a day, he even combed his hair before seeing you.

At first it was difficult, he remembers crying as he stared at himself in the sink mirror, getting up the courage to pick up an orange plastic toothbrush with white details on the sides and white and blue bristles in the middle.

What an idiot, he thinks now, it's not that hard, it never was, it's simpler than it looks, but even so, today he doesn't feel like brushing his teeth, he's been sitting on the toilet for 10 minutes, you must be worried, he should get off soon.

He looks at the sink, his back bent and tired, his eyes listless, the toothbrush there, made of blue plastic and white bristles, it seems heavy to him.

Suddenly, a light touch, affectionate even.

"Bob? What's up?"

Your voice sounds from behind the brown door, he wants to answer and say he's fine, he wants to get up and leave the bathroom, kiss you and sleep until tomorrow afternoon, but he can't.

"I'm coming in, okay?"

Then the door opens, you walk in slowly and look at him worriedly, he blinks slowly and tries to say something, anything.

"Do you need help?"

Help?

"I'll help you, okay?"

He frowns and watches you lift the blue toothbrush with ease, putting some fluoride-free toothpaste on the bristles. You turn to him and look at him lovingly.

"Open your mouth, bob."

He winks.

He opens his mouth.

The toothbrush slides across his lips and then lands on his teeth. He tastes the light paste, not as bitter as the others.

As he stands there with his mouth open and you in front of him brushing his teeth, he thinks how lucky he is, lucky that you came into the bathroom and saved his day, that you brushed his teeth and didn't make him think he was disgusting and dirty.

A single tear runs down his cheek, he's so happy, it's a shame he can't say how much, so he forces himself to smile at you.

And you see it. Bob, looking at you with his big, bright eyes, his white lips and his foamy teeth.

You smile at him.

If he could, he'd keep you there forever, the two of you, frozen in time, you looking after him while he looks at you as if you were saving him from himself. And you were.

Instead, he concentrated on gathering his strength and getting up from the toilet. He headed for the sink, spat out the foam from the toothpaste and let you guide a small puddle of water in your hand into his mouth. He took a small mouthful and spat out the water.

"We're done, Bob."

He mentally thanked you for not making him floss.

"... Shall we go to sleep now?" He asked in a whisper, as if the question would bother you in some way.

"Yes, darling." You reply as you lift the blankets and make room for him to lie down.

He walks monotonously over to the bed and lies there in the space you've prepared for him. Bob, curious, watches you cover him and then feels your lips on his forehead. He sees you walk to the other side of the bed and lie down next to him.

The lights coming from the lamps go out, and then it's just you and silence.

"Sorry." He says.

"Why?" you ask.

"Because I can't be normal."

The silence settles in the room, he thinks that the sound of the blankets is you getting out of bed and walking away, leaving him alone, but he feels your hand touching his face, and he realizes that you had only settled down to face him.

"You don't have to be normal, Bob, I like you like this, at your best and at your worst."

He smiles and thinks how lucky he is to have you there, but says nothing.

[uramakimochi]

Could I request an ASL headcanons of them trying to make their fem s/o smile? A short summary is that their s/o had trauma and is now incapable of showing any emotions, nor they could smile now. I like to imagine that Luffy made it his life goal to atleast see her smile at him for once but can you also add Ace and Sabo?

Absolutely~ I'm sorry but i personally don't like headcanons so i wrote three scenarios, i hope it's still okay🙏

One Piece Scenario:

WHEN THEY TRY TO MAKE THEIR S/O SMILE

- Luffy Ace and Sabo x Reader -

Warnings: FEM!R, use of Y/n, fluff + angst, implied trauma but nothing is described, you can imagine whatever you want. Sabo's story is long, (they're all long but his one is longer) i'm sorry, hope it doesn't bore you.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

LUFFY (feat. the Strawhat crew)

Luffy had asked you to join his crew because he had immediately seen the potential you kept hidden, even if he didn't even know you. Your meeting was totally coincidental, but we know what Luffy is like, don't we? Once he makes a decision, there is no going back.

So you had abandoned everything to join the straw hats, because honestly, you believed that now, after what you had experienced, you had nothing left to lose. Although some members of the crew weren't totally convinced of you at the beginning, like Nami and Zoro, in a short time you managed to get used to it and all your new companions accepted you into their family without problems.

But there was one detail that hadn't escaped any of them and that was that you had never shown them your emotions. The only ones you expressed were the negative ones, like anger and sadness, but NEVER had the Strawhats seen you smile.

It was as if it were impossible for you to do so, as if your lips had been paralyzed in the same position for years, never curling upwards and never showing your teeth. You always tried to express your gratitude towards your crewmates with words, but by now you knew that you no longer had the ability to feel the joy that had been deprived of you in the past.

And although your friends had understood and accepted it, although some like Robin, Nami and Chopper had tried to take you aside and talk to you, but in vain, there was still one person who still hadn't lost heart.

Luffy still didn't understand why he never saw you smile when Zoro and Sanji were arguing like children, when Usopp and Chopper were whining in fear over something stupid or when Nami punched Brook because he wanted to see her panties. It was impossible! Smiling and being happy was something that came naturally, so why couldn't you do it?

And that was exactly what he asked you in person.

"Y/n, why do you never smile?" he asked you one day, catching you off guard.

Before you could even answer him, someone punched him in the head.

SBONK!

"DOES THIS SEEM TO BE A QUESTION TO ASK?!" Sanji and Nami's voices chorused behind him.

"Oww..." Luffy moaned in pain. "But what did i do?"

The two dragged him away, into the kitchen, under your confused eyes.

And after they had given him a long lecture about how he had the touch of an elephant in a glass shop, they then explained to him how things were. Luffy understood, but at the same time he still didn't.

"But it's unfair! How can she not feel happiness? It's impossible!"

"Luffy..." Nami sighed. "We understand that you are worried about her, in fact we all are, but this is something that should be taken with caution. It was what Y/n went through in the past that made her like this"

"We would all love to see a smile on sweet Y/n's face, but i don't think that will happen anytime soon" Sanji said, then took a drag of his cigarette sadly.

It was at that moment that Luffy automatically gave himself a personal mission and that was to make you happy again. Because he thought it was unfair that you couldn't feel the emotions everyone else felt, you didn't deserve this.

He loved you more than anything and just wanted to share his joy with you.

-

"Hey Y/n!" Luffy called to you waving a hand and you closed the book you were reading to pay attention to him.

Your captain gave you a huge smile, which you didn't return, but he didn't give up.

"Look what i can do!"

He squeezed his nose between two fingers and then pulled it forward, making it lengthen a few centimeters and he did the same with his ears and lips. Then he began to tie his rubbery skin as if it were a bow, only it all came out as just a funny face or a messy bow.

"Ta-da!"

You looked at him in silence for a few seconds, blinking, while Robin who was nearby smiled amusedly.

"It's funny, Luffy" you then said, reopening your book.

"Really??" Luffy asked you, his voice muffled by the knot he had created with his nose.

You nodded.

"Really. You're very funny"

Luffy smiled, satisfied with his work. He knew your tone wasn't ironic, you weren't making fun of him. You really appreciated his childish gestures and even though you thought you would've never been able to feel happiness again, being with Luffy lightened your heart and made you feel good.

And Luffy took your monotonous words as a gesture of encouragement to keep going. He would have made it, he absolutely HAD to make it.

-

"And then i stuffed all the food in my mouth and ran away. There was Smoker chasing me and Ace was chasing Smoker! Only i didn't realize that when i entered the inn, i had pushed them both into the wall. I was too hungry, i couldn't take it anymore!" Luffy started laughing, throwing his head back and you looked at him.

"You're such a careless Luffy" you told him. "You risk getting into some serious trouble if you're not careful"

"Shishishi! But it's a funny story, isn't it? It's a shame you weren't there. Alabasta was beautiful, but it was too hot"

Luffy started laughing again, while you went back to watching the sun set on the horizon, from sitting on the figurehead of the Sunny.

Yes, it was a funny story and you weren't too surprised by Luffy's reckless behavior and how he talked as if there was nothing to worry about. It was fun.

-

Time passed and Luffy never gave up.

None of the crew told him that perhaps it was better to end it, that it wasn't worth it anymore, that it was useless. No, Luffy would've never stopped. He was stubborn and that was what you and the others admired about him as your captain.

And then, if for them it seemed that there was no progress, Luffy instead was convinced that he had seen your lips lift one day. Even though it was very small, almost imperceptible, Luffy was firmly convinced that it was a hint of a smile. It meant that he wasn't far away, he was sure of it!

So Luffy continued in his quest: he told you the adventures of him and his brothers when they were little, of what had happened before you joined the crew, he told you jokes to try to make you smile and some weren't even funny, but you didn't care. You always listened to him and you always would have.

And the more Luffy kept trying to make you smile, the more it seemed to him that your lips always curved up a little more as time went by.

-

Then one day, while it was raining outside, Sanji called you all into the kitchen for dinner time and while you were in the bathroom washing yourself, Robin came to tell you that it was ready on the table.

When you reached everyone else and opened the door, the mass of voices of your crewmates drowned you out at once.

"You insolent idiot, don't you dare eat, everyone isn't at the table yet!" Sanji exclaimed, turning to Luffy and taking the plate away from him.

"But i'm hungry! I'm hungry Sanji! I'm hungry!" the other complained, slamming the cutlery on the table.

Nami gritted her teeth, annoyed by his complaints.

"Stop whining or i'll punch you!"

Meanwhile, Chopper and Usopp were arguing next to each other.

"Hey! Why are you stealing food from my plate?!" exclaimed the reindeer.

"No no, you're very wrong" the sniper waved a hand, whistling innocently. "I did not do anything!"

Chopper lunged at Usopp and he started screaming, trying to get him off him. Next to them, Zoro took a sip of sake, looking at them boredly.

"Yes you did! I just saw you do it, don't lie!"

"Lies? I never tell lies!"

"Hey you two, stop arguing. How annoying..."

From the other end of the table, Franky smirked amusedly.

"It's like a circus here eheh"

"Yohohoho~" Brook laughed. "If you want, i can play something to brighten up the evening"

Robin watched the scene, covering her smile with one hand.

Your eyes passed over each of your crewmates and it was in that moment, when your gaze locked on Luffy's pouting figure, that you realized that they weren't just your crewmates. They were your family.

And then, suddenly someone started laughing and in a few seconds everyone fell silent, focusing on the sound of that laughter. Everyone turned to look at you when they noticed your presence and their eyes widened as they realized that the one who was laughing out loud was you.

Luffy felt a huge smile spread across his face when he saw you. It had finally happened, you were actually laughing. Oh, and how genuine that laugh was, you could clearly hear it was a laugh that hadn't been heard in too long.

"Y/n!" Luffy exclaimed, then stretched out his arms and catapulted in front of you. But his smile fell when he saw the tears that were spilling out of your eyes and sliding down your cheeks.

"Y/n…"

Luffy tilted his head in confusion, because even though you were crying you were still laughing like there was no tomorrow.

"Y-Yes, Luffy?" You sniffed and opened your eyes to look at him, feeling his palm on your cheek trying to wipe away the tears.

"Why are you crying?" he asked you.

You shook your head, your laughter growing weaker and weaker. The tears continued to flow, but your lips remained curved upwards in a trembling smile.

"S-Sorry it’s just that…" you raised a hand to cover his on your face. "These are tears of joy, Luffy"

"Huh? Joy? So..." Luffy's eyes widened again when he realized. "Wait, so you're happy now??"

You nodded, squeezing his fingers.

"I am. And it's all thanks to you. And everyone else too. Because when i'm with our crew i can forget everything that happened. And you Luffy, you never gave up. Thanks to you i found every day the strength to move forward. Thank you for everything you have done for me. Thank you all, guys"

Behind Luffy, Franky, Usopp and Chopper were crying tears of emotion, while everyone else gave you happy smiles.

"I'm so happy to see you smile Y/n!" Luffy exclaimed, closing his eyes. "Everyone deserves to be happy, it wasn't fair that all of us were happy except you"

You looked at him tenderly with your heart pounding in your chest. You hadn't felt this way in too long. It was so beautiful.

Then Luffy removed his hand from your cheek.

"Look!"

He pinched his cheeks with his fingers and pulled them, stretching his face into various shapes.

"Ta-da!"

And this time you started laughing again, while more tears continued to come out of your eyes and Luffy started laughing too, hearing your laughter mixed with sobs. Luffy knew in that moment that his mission was accomplished.

And outside, in the sky, the rain stopped, as the sun began to set.

ACE (feat. the Whitebeard Pirates)

You were part of Whitebeard's crew even before Ace joined. Whitebeard had invited you to join knowing the weight of your past that you carried on your shoulders and you had accepted. From the first moment you considered Whitebeard as the father you never had and all the commanders had welcomed you into the crew as if you were their younger sister.

They were your new family and you loved each of them and you tried in every way to demonstrate the immense gratitude you felt for them. But you couldn't.

The ghosts of the past tormented you day and night and you had lost the ability to feel happiness. It seemed impossible to you and yet it had happened. But that didn't make your brothers and father love you any less, on the contrary, they had become very protective of you because of that. The only one after your father who you were closest to ever was Marco, who had taken you under his wing (no pun intended) from day one.

And when Ace joined the crew he asked him about you.

"Oi. Is that Y/n like, depressed or something?"

Let's remember that initially Ace didn't want to be part of Whitebeard's crew and was quite grumpy. So the way he said that question didn't please the phoenix man at all.

"If you talk about her like that again i swear i'll throw you into the sea in your sleep" he told him threateningly.

When things calmed down between Ace and Whitebeard, the former found the courage to ask the captain what happened to you. And this time he did it more delicately.

So Whitebeard explained the situation to him and Ace understood why all the commanders were particularly touchy when it came to you.

"We've tried for a long time, but it was all in vain" Whitebeard sighed. "We have never seen that girl smile. We have seen her cry with sadness, scream with anger and paralyze with fear. But we have never seen the shadow of a smile on that beautiful, pure and innocent face of hers. But we have accepted her for what she is. And we will never abandon her because of this"

Ace retreated to his quarters with his head in the clouds.

He had interacted with you often, but he didn't believe that a person like you would hide such a tormented past. But Ace had grown fond of you and therefore decided that to make up for how he had behaved during the period of his arrival, he would've made you relive your happiness.

He would have done it for you, for Whitebeard and for your brothers.

-

"Good morning Y/n"

You lifted your head from your plate to greet Ace, who had just joined you for breakfast.

"Good morning Ace. Did you sleep well?"

"Like an angel. What about you?"

"Good enough"

Ace chewed a piece of bread.

"You know" he said. "Today is a beautiful day and the sun is shining. If only i hadn't eaten a devil fruit i would go for a swim"

You frowned at him, not understanding what he was getting at. Then he swallowed the bite and looked at you with a smirk.

"But i'm already drowning in your eyes anyway~"

The dining room fell silent and everyone in the room turned to look at him. Marco and Izo, who were sitting on either side of you, opened their eyes and mouths wide. A little further away, Thatch and Whitebeard smirked in amusement.

"You did NOT just say that in front of me..." Izo muttered with a disgusted expression.

Ace blushed like a tomato and to avoid Marco's murderous gaze he moved his eyes to you, to see your reaction. You blinked at him and then quickly lowered your head to your bowl, starting to eat again.

"It was a little embarrassing, don't you think?" you asked, squeezing a hand nervously under the table.

"B-But it was funny, wasn't it?" Ace asked.

And you nodded silently, making him smile. It was a small step, wasn't it?

Marco turned to Whitebeard.

"Pops!"

But Whitebeard just laughed from his chair.

"Gurarara, nothing happened Marco. It's just a joke"

-

For a while Ace continued with the pickup lines, since he was sure that on the inside you found them funny and even if he liked seeing your embarrassed look and your red cheeks, your lips never showed the slightest hint of a smile. So he tried to change his strategy.

-

"What are those two doing?" Marco muttered, observing you and Ace on the deck of the ship.

"More like what are you doing" Thatch retorted, hands on hips. "Are you spying on them?"

"Ace is acting strange. I don't understand what he wants to do with Y/n" the blond retorted, narrowing his eyes at Ace.

Thatch came to his side.

"He's just trying to do what we did too. Pops told me"

Marco pursed his lips.

"Don't you think he will make her suffer more than she already is?"

Thatch shook his head with a smile.

"Nah. Ace cares about her, you know? In fact, he's obsessed with her. And so is she"

Then Thatch placed a hand on Marco's shoulder.

"Give him a chance. Pops trusts him. And then..." he said, pointing at your figures with a finger. "I don't think she's sad at all right now"

Marco realized how at that moment, your eyes were wide open and fixed on the fiery figures that Ace was creating in the sky with his powers. They shone in wonder at the sight that lit up the night sky above the Moby Dick.

And while your gaze was pointed upwards, Ace's was fixed on your face, which was making him fall in love more and more.

-

"Ace!"

Ace could hear your voice calling out to him. But it was muffled and so far away.

"Please hold on! Stay with us! Ace!"

Ace didn't understand. What the hell was going on? Why couldn't he see anything? Where were you? Was he dying? No, he absolutely couldn't allow that. After everything he was doing to fulfill his mission, he couldn't afford to leave you for something stupid like that.

After seconds that seemed endless, Ace found the strength to open his eyes. He wanted to move, but as soon as he tried to, a bolt of pain shot through his chest and he hissed in pain.

"Stay still"

Ace's eyes fell on the figure of Marco, who was walking around the room. Ace looked around and realized he was on a bed in the Moby Dick infirmary.

"Do you remember what happened?" the blond asked him, looking at him from behind his glasses.

Ace nodded, remembering everything. One minute he and everyone else were fighting and the next someone had hit him from behind. Then he remembered your voice, calling him desperately.

Ace looked down at his chest, which was bandaged and then noticed the figure who was sleeping with her head resting on her arms, which in turn were crossed on the mattress, next to his body. Ace felt his heart start beating again when he saw your hand holding his in his sleep, warming it with your warmth.

"You gave us a scare, especially to her" Marco murmured, trying not to wake you. "She's been here the whole time"

Marco approached the bed and placed a blanket over your shoulders, before gently rubbing your back.

"I'm relieved you're okay" the blond then said.

"I thought you hated me" Ace retorted.

Marco shrugged.

"We know what you're doing for her. And we're all grateful. And i'm sure she is, too. Even though it may not seem like it"

Ace opened his eyes slightly, surprised by his words.

"Do you really believe that?"

Marco nodded.

"If you keep doing this, i know you will succeed where we failed. Now rest, you need it"

Ace didn't have to be told twice and closed his eyes, abandoning himself to the presence of your touch.

-

When Ace reopened his eyes, he saw your face again and the blinding daylight coming through the infirmary windows.

"Ace!"

He didn't even have time to realize it, that you threw yourself onto his body, hugging his neck with all your strength.

"Thank goodness you're okay!"

Ace smiled and placed a hand on your back, but couldn't stop himself from making the noise of pain that the wound on his chest was causing him.

"Oh shoot, i'm sorry!" you exclaimed, immediately pulling away from him. "I didn't mean to hurt you"

Ace waved a hand.

"It's no problem, don't worry. Are you okay?"

You looked at him with teary eyes.

"Oh Ace…" you murmured. "After everything that happened to you, how can you still worry about me?"

"Well, are you sure you're not tired?" he asked you again.

And before you could respond he continued.

"Because you've been running through my mind all day~" he said with a smirk, accompanied by a wink.

You looked at him silently, eyes wide. That's when Ace saw you lower your head, covering your face with your hair. And then, after a few seconds, he saw your shoulders move in small spasms.

Ace widened his eyes, thinking you were crying and reached out to you.

"Y/n, i'm sorry-"

When his fingers brushed your shoulder, you raised your head to look at him. And to his shock, Ace realized that you were actually giggling.

"D-Does this feel like the time to say your stupid jokes?" You murmured, as if trying to hold back the laughter that was slowly escaping your lips.

Ace noticed a couple of tears coming out of your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away with your hands. He smiled and remembering the first time he told you one of his pickup lines, he said...

"But it was funny, wasn't it?"

You nodded, still giggling and covered your mouth with your hand. Ace looked at you tenderly, as he felt his heart warm with each passing second.

"You have a beautiful laugh, you know?" he asked you.

You looked at him, managing to stop laughing for a few seconds, while Ace continued.

"I'm glad i was able to make you smile. Pops and the others wanted it so much. And i wanted it too"

You reached out to his hand, stroking the back of it with your thumb, then brought his palm to cover your cheek.

"I thought i lost you Ace. And seeing that you're okay makes me happy. More than anything"

You looked at each other with sweet smiles and Ace could see in your eyes all the affection you felt for him. So he gathered courage and leaned forward until your lips touched softly. After a few seconds he pulled away.

"Well, if i had known that just ending up in a hospital bed was enough to make you happy, i would have done it a lot sooner"

At those words you couldn't help but burst out laughing, quickly covering your face with your hands.

"D-Don't say that!" you said mortified. "You make me look like a bad person!"

And Ace chuckled back, joining you.

At that moment, unbeknownst to you, certain commanders of a certain emperor's fleet and that emperor himself were gathering outside the infirmary door, trying not to be heard. And when they heard the sweet sound of your laughter for the first time, they felt their eyes become shiny.

"She's laughing!" Vista murmured. "Our darling little sister is laughing with joy!"

"Oh, i'm so happy!" continued Blamenco.

Whitebeard sniffed, but refrained from crying, unlike his sons, and he glanced at Marco, who was rubbing his eyes from behind his glasses, biting his lower lip.

Ace's voice rang out in the infirmary again.

"I'd offer you a cigarette but you're already smokin' hot~"

"Ace!" you called out to him between laughs, feeling your cheeks heat up under your palms.

He too continued to laugh and then he grimaced in pain, putting a hand to his chest.

"Thank you Ace"

Was what Whitebeard thought, looking back at you and Ace with a tender gaze.

"You saved her"

SABO (feat. the Revolutionary Army)

With Sabo i imagine a scenario that is similar to Senor Pink's backstory. (From Dressrosa arc but there are no spoilers)

You were both part of the Revolutionary Army, but you didn't always were together in missions. Sabo was sorry about this, especially because he was quite protective of you and despite being aware of your fighting skills, he was always afraid for you.

That day was a day like many others, where you and Sabo had said goodbye to each other by exchanging a kiss, you on his cheek and him on your forehead, and then wishing each other good luck, separating and going on your missions.

Sabo and Koala returned after a month and they both couldn't wait to see you and have a chat about the adventures you had. But when the two entered the headquarters, they did not expect the silence that reigned inside the room to welcome them. Usually when someone from the army returned from a mission after a long time, there was a celebration and when it came to Sabo and Koala you were the first to run to greet them.

Not surprisingly, Sabo immediately noticed your absence, but initially didn't give it too much thought, thinking that you were just busy with Dragon.

"Sabo"

Sabo lifted his head, meeting Ivan's gaze and when he noticed his less than happy tone and worried look, it didn't take him long to connect the dots.

Koala flashed him a smile.

"Hi Ivan-"

"Where is Y/n?" Sabo interrupted, taking a step forward.

Ivankov sighed, knowing there was no point beating around the bush with Sabo.

"In the infirmary" he only said.

Sabo passed him without waiting for him and Koala, heading towards the infirmary at full speed.

When he entered, throwing open the doors with force, he expected to find all kinds of dark scenarios, like you with a body full of bandages, you bleeding, or worse...

But he didn't expect to see your body under the covers of the infirmary bed, lying on its side in a fetal position, with your back facing him. Sabo wasted no time and ran in front of you, immediately taking your hand in his.

"Y/n!"

You opened your eyes when you heard his voice and Sabo immediately noticed how your eyes seemed emptier since the last time he saw you.

"Sabo... You're back"

Sabo looked at you worriedly, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"What happened??" he asked frantically, looking from your eyes to the band-aid on your cheek.

But you just bit your lower lip, not having the strength to answer him and after your eyes filled with tears, you started crying in front of his eyes. Sabo looked at you, his heart breaking more and more with every tear he saw and every sob he heard.

"Y/n… Hey…" he murmured, placing his other hand on your cheek. He tried to comfort you in every way possible, but to no avail.

Then, Ivankov's voice called him again.

"Sabo"

Slowly Sabo raised his head towards the infirmary door and saw Dragon's figure in the doorway, next to Ivan's. Then, behind him, Koala reached him and after placing a hand on his shoulder she gave him a smile.

"I'll stay with her" said the girl.

Sabo gave you one last look, hoping he could look you in the eyes one more time, but you were too busy crying and you were even trying to hide your face under the bed sheet.

He quickly stood up, whispering a "I'll be right back" to you, then joined Ivan and Dragon. After the three exited the infirmary, they went to Dragon's office to talk in private and as soon as the door closed behind them, Sabo began to speak.

"What happened in that mission?? Who the hell made her like that?!"

"Sabo-"

"Tell me Ivan!" the blond interrupted abruptly, clenching his fists at his sides.

But Dragon and Ivan didn't take offense at his angry tone, because they knew him and they knew that when it came to you or his brothers, Sabo could lose his temper in seconds.

"They caught us off guard" Ivan said calmly, but still sadly. "Everything was going as planned, but someone probably discovered our plan and managed to get ahead of us. And Y/n..."

Ivan continued to talk and the more he went on, the more it didn't seem true to Sabo. Why did what happened have to happen to you? What did you do wrong?

"There's a bigger problem" Dragon then interjected, catching Sabo's attention. "What she suffered put her into a sort of depressive state. It's as if she's costantly tired and none of us were able to get her out of bed of her own free will"

"We can only get her to move to go to the bathroom..." Ivan continued. "For the rest she has always remained in bed and eats very little"

Sabo remained silent, shocked.

"I'm sorry Sabo" Ivan concluded then, lowering his head, feeling humiliated under the blond's gaze. "Y/n is suffering because of me, because i failed to protect her. If you're angry with me i understand, i-"

"Ivan"

Ivankov looked back at Sabo with teary eyes when he heard him call him.

"Yes?" he asked, sniffling.

"It's not your fault and i'm not angry with you, really" the other said calmly, trying to smile, although he couldn't. "I'm sure you all did your best"

Sabo turned his back to him and lowering his head, he clenched his fists at his sides again. The more he thought about what they had told him, about what you had suffered, without him, the more he felt his heart burning with anger inside his chest.

"But please, tell me..." he said, gritting his teeth. "Tell me that at least those bastards got what they deserved. Tell me you didn't let them get away with it. I need to know this, Ivankov"

Ivan nodded solemnly.

"We took care of it, i promise Sabo"

"Good"

After asking for permission to leave, Sabo left and obviously returned to the infirmary, to make up for all the time he had lost without you.

-

And even though he believed that Ivan and Dragon's words were exaggerated and didn't want to believe them, unfortunately Sabo realized that they were true about you.

After he left on his mission he just couldn't wait to get back to you and spend time with you, doing everything he could to make you happy. But despite him coming to keep you company in the infirmary every single day, Sabo still hadn't seen the slightest shadow of your beloved smile on your face. And he missed that so much.

Not to mention what happened in the infirmary: Sabo tried to interact with you in every way possible, but aside from the day he and Koala returned, it was like you didn't even notice he was there. He spent all his time holding your hand, caressing you, kissing you and telling you little stories to entertain the time. But he never had a full reaction, other than simple words or noises of approval and disapproval. You laid on the bed in the same position for hours and hours, just staring out of the window.

The more time passed, the more Sabo didn't know what to do. Koala tried to stay close to him, talk to him and give him some advice, like taking some time to take care of himself too, because staying in that state wasn't good for him or you.

"No!" he told her with determination. "I'm not going to lose Y/n like this. It's not fair at all. I won't give up Koala, i won't give up until i have the same Y/n as before. I won't give up until i see her smiling again like she used to!"

-

Sabo started with the flowers.

Every week, on the advice of Koala, Betty and Ivankov, he brought you bouquets of all kinds of flowers, always decorated with colored bows and small love notes. Now don't get it wrong, Sabo was a gentleman and he often gave you flowers even before, which you always kept in your bedroom. He hoped that by doing this, maybe he could rekindle that little flame inside your heart that fueled your love.

"Hey, good morning" Sabo carefully entered the room, hoping he hadn't disturbed you and approached your bed.

"I ordered these flowers especially for you, they come from far away" he said, sitting on the chair next to the bed. "They are rare, but they have a very particular scent and i thought you'd like them. Come on, smell them"

He handed you the bouquet of flowers, bringing it closer to your face, making sure you could smell it. After a few seconds he pulled away.

"They smell good, don't they?" he asked you with a hopeful smile.

Sabo saw your head move just a few inches, nodding.

"Mh" you hummed under your breath.

But Sabo didn't give up.

"I knew you would've liked them" he said. "The world is full of flowers you haven't seen yet, but i know you would love them all"

This time you remained silent, with your gaze regularly fixed out the window.

Sabo let out a heartbroken huff through his nose and placed the bouquet of flowers on the cabinet next to the bed. Then he leaned forward and clasped your cold hand in both of his, warming it with his gloves. He quickly glanced at all the flowers that were slowly accumulating on one of the empty beds in the infirmary. Then he looked back at you, hoping that your eyes would move to meet his, even if just for a split second. But it didn't happen.

-

Sabo continued with the flowers, but then he realized that there was something else you loved. Books.

Thanks to him you had rediscovered the pleasure of reading and when you spent time together, you often spent it reading with him. Sometimes you remained in the same room in silence for hours and hours, each reading a book on your own, and then commenting it. Other times, one of you would read pages to the other and vice versa, activity you often did before going to sleep. The books had become your thing.

So Sabo also began to bring a book along with the flowers. And since you didn't have the energy to sit and read with him, he spent his time reading aloud, sitting next to your bed.

He spent time reading you chapter after chapter and sometimes he even changed the tone of his voice when there was a dialogue between the characters, like when you read a fairy tale to a child. He had never done this, but he hoped that by doing it maybe you would've laughed or smiled at the way he was making a fool of himself. But nothing from you.

Until one day, Sabo entered the infirmary, greeted you with a kiss on your hair, placed the flowers on the bedside table, sat down and opened the new book he had started reading to you, like he did every day.

But this time, before he could read the first word of the chapter aloud, a hand on his knee made him slightly jump.

"Sabo" Sabo's eyes widened when he heard you say his name.

"Y-Yes?? What's wrong Y/n? Tell me everything" he said frantically, hoping he hadn't imagined it.

Suddenly you began to move on the bed and slowly sat up.

"Could you... Could you sit next to me while you read?" you asked him, your voice hoarse.

Sabo felt as if his heart had started beating again. Despite the monotone tone in which you asked him that question and your facial expression that seemed paralyzed, he knew that this only meant he was making progress.

Sabo nodded frantically, unable to hold back the smile forming on his lips. You moved away along the mattress, making room for him and he wasted no time in climbing up and sitting next to your body. Once he had settled into the most suitable position he glanced at you.

He stood stiff as a board at your silence. Your bodies were touching, yes, but at the same time it was as if they weren't. Maybe you regretted asking him? Maybe you felt uncomfortable? He decided it was best to start reading, so he cleared his throat and continued where he was about to start earlier.

Then, a few minutes later, in the middle of the narration, Sabo felt something soft touch his arm and something else rest against his shoulder. He jumped once more, stopping and turning to face you. And he realized that after so long, he could finally feel the warmth of your hand resting on his arm and the softness of your hair covering his shoulder, with your head on top of it. Oh, how he had missed that feeling.

Even though he suddenly fell silent, you didn't say anything either. You remained staring at the pages of the book, waiting for him to start again. And with a smile, that's what Sabo did.

-

Then one day Sabo had an idea. He wasn't sure about it, but he might as well try, right?

He entered the room and saw you sitting, with your back resting on the pillow. He reached you and if before he usually sat in the chair next to the bed, this time he sat next to your body on the edge of the mattress and took your hand. He flashed you a smile, but you didn't notice, too busy staring out the window, the only thing you did while he was gone.

Sabo continued to caress the back of your hand, then he turned to look out the window as well.

"Today is a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes it is" you replied calmly.

He slowly looked back at you.

"How... How about we go out for a walk?" he asked you slowly, fearing for your reaction.

Silence fell, but after a few seconds you turned to him and then nodded without saying anything. Sabo smiled at you and stood up, before offering you his gloved hand, which you slowly took.

He helped you to your feet and as soon as you were next to him, you wrapped your arm around his, resting your cheek against his shoulder. That gesture caught him off guard, but he recovered quickly and together you walked out of the infirmary.

The people of the army looked at you in amazement, but they refrained from commenting, even though they would have been positive comments, happy that you were improving thanks to Sabo. Sitting at a table, Ivankov opened his eyes wide with a gasp when he saw you. While Koala, next to him, smiled happily. But Sabo ignored everyone and led you out of the headquarters, even away from the new recruits who were training with Hack and Kuma.

So you spent the day walking slowly under the blue sky, arm in arm. And you did the same the following days, when the warm presence of the sun allowed you to go outside.

Usually you walked in silence, enjoying the atmosphere and the sounds of nature, but the only one of the two who every now and then said something to break the ice was Sabo, when, after pointing out a cloud in the sky, he invented its shape. And you agreed with him, even if it actually wasn't like that.

Other times, when there was a breeze that made goosebumps on your arms, Sabo wasted no time and took off his jacket, placing it on your shoulders and making sure you were well covered. You thanked him every time and even though he would have loved to see your smile, he knew that you were still grateful for his kind gestures.

Or he would start telling some stories about his brothers, about his missions with Koala or he would make you remember your dates and the good moments you had spent together and which he would've always kept in his heart. And reluctantly, you replied saying that you missed the person you used to be too.

-

Once your walks were over, you often became too tired to do anything else and Sabo would take you back to bed.

One evening, when darkness had fallen, Sabo gently placed your body on the infirmary bed, then covered it with the sheets. Usually he would read you a few pages of a book even before falling asleep, but since your eyes were already closed and you now seemed abandoned in the world of dreams, he decided to let you sleep.

He leaned in to kiss you on the forehead, bidding you goodnight in a whisper and when he turned to leave, you grabbed a piece of his clothes, making him stop in his tracks. Sabo turned to look at you, seeing you staring at him with eyes that were struggling to stay open.

"Stay… Please" you murmured, then moved away along the mattress, making room for him.

Sabo couldn't help but smile and he nodded.

"Of course, darling. Anything you want"

He took off his gloves, jacket and boots and settled under the covers, next to you. You wasted no time and snuggled into his body, resting your head on his chest. Sabo heard you let out a deep breath through your nose, as if you hadn't been waiting for anything but that.

He said nothing and closed his eyes, thinking he would've gone to sleep, but...

"Thank you, Sabo" he heard you say suddenly, in the middle of the silence.

Sabo lowered his head to look at you. Your eyes were still closed, but he knew you were still conscious enough to speak.

And then, in the dark of night, he finally saw it.

After all that time, Sabo saw your sweet, genuine smile slowly grow on your face, illuminated by the moon's rays.

Sabo continued to look at you in silence and couldn't stop his heartbeat, which was speeding up as the seconds passed. You could hear it clearly under your ear and continued to smile.

"I'm happy for everything you've done for me. You've brought joy back to my heart and i will be infinitely grateful to you for that" you said, clutching the clothes on his abdomen with one hand. "I couldn't have asked for a better person than you. I'm so happy to have you in my life. Thank you. I love you"

Sabo saw a couple of tears fall silently from your closed eyes and he felt his eyes becoming shiny too, but he managed to hold back. With one hand he ran his thumb gently under your eyes, wiping them of tears. He sniffed and flashed you a smile.

He had done it. After weeks and weeks of agony that he had tried so hard not to show you, he could finally feel his heart swell with joy and relief at the sight of your face that no longer reflected the pain you were feeling.

Sabo wrapped his arms around you and leaned in to give you another small series of kisses on the top of your head.

"I love you too" he murmured against your hair.

Then he closed his eyes, knowing he would've finally had a peaceful night with you by his side. And all he could think was only one thing: that he would've done anything to never make you lose your smile again.

///

[inkskinned]

you're grabbing lunch with a nice man and he gives you that strange grimace-smile that's popular right now; an almost sardonic "twist" of his mouth while he looks literally down on you. it looks like he practiced the move as he leans back, arms folded. he just finished reciting the details of NFTs to you and explaining Oppenheimer even though he only watched a youtube about it and hasn't actually seen it. you are at the bottom of your wine glass.

you ask the man across from you if he has siblings, desperately looking for a topic. literally anything else.

he says i don't like small talk. and then he smiles again, watching you.

a few years ago, you probably would have said you're above celebrity gossip, but honestly, you've been kind of enjoying the dumb shit of it these days. with the rest of the earth burning, there's something familiar and banal about dragging ariana grande through the mud. you think about jeanette mccurdy, who has often times gently warned the world she's not as nice as she appears. you liked i'm glad my mom died but it made you cry a lot.

he doesn't like small talk, figure out something to say.

you want to talk about responsibility, and how ariana grande is only like 6 days older than you are - which means she just turned 30 and still dresses and acts like a 13 year old, but like sexy. there's something in there about the whole thing - about insecurity, and never growing up, and being sexualized from a young age.

people have been saying that gay people are groomers. like, that's something that's come back into the public. you have even said yourself that it's just ... easier to date men sometimes. you would identify as whatever the opposite of "heteroflexible" is, but here you are again, across from a man. you like every woman, and 3 people on tv. and not this guy. but you're trying. your mother is worried about you. she thinks it's not okay you're single. and honestly this guy was better before you met, back when you were just texting.

wait, shit. are you doing the same thing as ariana grande? are you looking for male validation in order to appease some internalized promise of heteronormativity? do you conform to the idea that your happiness must result in heterosexuality? do you believe that you can resolve your internal loneliness by being accepted into the patriarchy? is there a reason dating men is easier? why are you so scared of fucking it up with women? why don't you reach out to more of them? you have a good sense of humor and a big ol' brain, you could have done a better job at online dating.

also. jesus christ. why can't you just get a drink with somebody without your internal feminism meter pinging. although - in your favor (and judgement aside) in the case of your ariana grande deposition: you have been in enough therapy you probably wouldn't date anyone who had just broken up with their wife of many years (and who has a young child). you'd be like - maybe take some personal time before you begin this journey. like, grande has been on broadway, you'd think she would have heard of the plot of hamlet.

he leans forward and taps two fingers to the table. "i'm not, like an andrew tate guy," he's saying, "but i do think partnership is about two people knowing their place. i like order."

you knew it was going to be hard. being non-straight in any particular way is like, always hard. these days you kind of like answering the question what's your sexuality? with a shrug and a smile - it's fine - is your most common response. like they asked you how your life is going and not to reveal your identity. you like not being straight. you like kissing girls. some days you know you're into men, and sometimes you're sitting across from a man, and you're thinking about the power of compulsory heterosexuality. are you into men, or are you just into the safety that comes from being seen with them? after all, everyone knows you're failing in life unless you have a husband. it almost feels like a gradebook - people see "straight married" as being "all A's", and anything else even vaguely noncompliant as being ... like you dropped out of the school system. you cannot just ignore years of that kind of conditioning, of course you like attention from men.

"so let's talk boundaries." he orders more wine for you, gesturing with one hand like he's rousing an orchestra. sir, this is a fucking chain restaurant. "I am not gonna date someone who still has male friends. also, i don't care about your little friends, i care about me. whatever stupid girls night things - those are lower priority. if i want you there, you're there."

he wasn't like this over text, right? you wouldn't have been even in the building if he was like this. you squint at him. in another version of yourself, you'd be running. you'd just get up and go. that's what happens on the internet - people get annoyed, and they just leave. you are locked in place, almost frozen. you need to go to the bathroom and text someone to call you so you have an excuse, like it's rude to just-leave. like he already kind of owns you. rudeness implies a power paradigm, though. see, even your social anxiety allows the patriarchy to get to you.

you take a sip of the new glass of wine. maybe this will be a funny story. maybe you can write about it on your blog. maybe you can meet ariana grande and ask her if she just maybe needs to take some time to sit and think about her happiness and how she measures her own success.

is this settling down? is this all that's left in your dating pool? just accepting that someone will eventually love you, and you have to stop being picky about who "makes" you a wife?

you look down to your hand, clutching the knife.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

idk if this is a sex ed question, or if you're the right person to ask, sorry, but do you have any reputable sources about what testosterone *actually* does?

i see people saying it limits your emotions, that it gives you breast cancer, that it makes you malnourished, its a second more dangerous puberty, etc, and I'd like to think im good at picking out lies, but there's a lot of stuff that sounds like bullshit coming from blogs i thought were trustworthy.

if not, all good, thank you in advance!

hi anon,

I'm really glad you sent this ask, because this kind of scaremongering misinformation is deeply upsetting and I'm so happy to provide a better information.

there are tons of reputable sources as to what testosterone does; some that I'll be pulling from in this answer include Cleveland Clinic, Harvard Medical School, University of California San Francisco, Mayo Clinic, the Society for Endocrinology, and Planned Parenthood.

so, what's up testosterone?

testosterone is a hormone produced in everyone's bodies, either in the testes or the ovaries depending on which set of equipment you're working with. all bodies produce both estrogen and testosterone, usually in different levels. regardless of the genitalia you were born with, how you understand your gender, or what levels of testosterone you have in your body, testosterone affects things like your sex drive, your hair growth, muscle and bone density, and the production of red blood cells.

in people born with testes, puberty usually comes with an increase in testosterone that kicks off changes such as growth of the penis and testicles, the production of sperm, an increase in hair growth all over the body, deepening of the voice, greater production of oil on the skin, and an increase in height, weight, and muscle mass.

either an overabundance or a deficit of testosterone can have health complications, just as having more or less of any hormone that a body needs can cause complications.

people who choose to transition by taking testosterone will experience many similar effects as cisgender men going through puberty, including the increase in body hair, skin oils, and muscle mass, as well as a deepening voice. while people on testosterone are unlikely to experience significant growth in terms of height unless they start hormone replacement therapy (HRT) at a fairly young age, testosterone does frequently cause a redistribution of fat on their bodies to be more similar to that of cisgender men. bottom growth, the increased size and sensitivity of the clitoris to more closely resemble a penis, is also common; the clitoris and the penis are homologous structures (they're made out of the same goo when embryos start developing genitalia), hence why they react similarly to testosterone.

to address your specific concerns:

testosterone does not limit the range of a person's emotions. while it may impact a person's mood and the severity of their feelings, the same is true of any hormone - for instance, people also report mood changes when they take antidepressants or birth control. the sometimes drastic mood fluctuations experienced during puberty are not tied to a specific hormone; this is a turbulent time regardless of what hormones your body is producing the most. testosterone is stereotyped as making people angry and violent, but all people are people regardless of their biology and are shaped by much more than the hormones in their body.

while cisgender men and trans people on testosterone can both get breast cancer, testosterone does not pose any particular risk. several of the sources linked about don't find any significant link between taking testosterone HRT and an increased risk of breast cancer, reporting that transgender individuals who take testosterone are not at any particularly higher risk of developing breast cancer than cisgender women. for more detailed information about potential health problems affiliated with taking testosterone, I recommend the "Risks" section of the linked UCSF document. yes, there are health risks affiliated with taking testosterone; this is true of literally any medication and, more importantly, is also true of just being a person with any kind of hormones in your body. cis men and women also have health conditions affiliated with being cis men and cis women, this is the price of admission for having a human body. nobody gets out unscathed.

there is no evidence that testosterone causes someone to become malnourished. people undergoing a testosterone-based puberty, whether they're cis or trans, are likely to experience a great deal of growth and bodily changes that will use a great deal of calories, which means they may be hungry and need more food than they did previously. this is a normal effect of puberty on a body, and is only a risk for malnourishment if a person isn't able to eat in sufficient amounts to keep their body properly nourished.

there is nothing about a testosterone-based puberty that is "more dangerous" than an estrogen-based puberty, which is what I assume is the point of comparison. puberty is a completely natural process that does not pose any significant dangers unless you want to be a real dipshit about it and pull some shit like "puberty is dangerous because you grow breast tissue and then you're at risk for breast cancer," in which case sure, great job, Sherlock. you solved it, puberty is cancelled forever. I cannot emphasize enough how stupid this is, conceptually; roughly half the human population goes through this kind of puberty every day and they're fucking fine. puberty by itself is not a risk factor of anything.

I don't know what particular interest the blogs you've been following have in making testosterone-based puberty sound like it's going to turn you into an emotionally stunted skeleton with breast cancer, although I fear it's transphobia hidden unsubtly behind concern trolling and disdain for cisgender men.

if you're interested in taking testosterone and are concerned about the changes you might see in your body please, for the love of god, consult with reputable health resources and a doctor rather than whatever nematode is posting about testosterone ruining your life.

[glitter-stained]

Damasio, The Trolley Problem and Batman: Under the Hood

Okay so @bestangelofall asked me to elaborate on what I meant by "Damasio's theories on emotions in moral decision-making add another level of depth to the analysis of UTH as a moral dilemma" and I thought this deserved its own post so let's talk about this.

So, idk where everyone is at here (philosophy was mandatory in highschool in my country but apparently that's not the case everywhere so i genuinely have no clue what's common knowledge here, i don't want to like state the obvious but also we should recap some stuff. Also if I'm mentioning a philosopher's or scientist's name without detailing, that means it's just a passing thought/recommendation if you want to read more on the topic.)

First thing first is I've seen said, about jason and the no killing rule, that "killing is always bad that's not up for debate". And I would like to say, that's factually untrue. Like, no matter which side of the debate you are on, there is very much a debate. Historically a big thing even. So if that's not something you're open to hear about, if you're convinced your position is the only correct one and even considering other options is wrong and/or a waste of time... I recommend stopping here, because this only going to make you upset, and you have better stuff to do with your life than getting upset over an essay. In any case please stay civil and remember that this post is not about me debating ethics with the whole bat-tumblr, it's me describing a debate other people have been voicing for a long time, explaining the position Damasio's neuropsychology and philosophy holds in this debate, and analyzing the ethics discussed in Batman: Under the Red Hood in that light. So while I might talk about my personal position in here (because I have an opinion in this debate), this isn't a philosophy post; this is a literature analysis that just so happens to exist within the context of a neuropsychological position on a philosophical debate. Do not try to convince me that my philosophy of ethics is wrong, because that's not the point, that's not what the post is about, I find it very frustrating and you will be blocked. I don't have the energy to defend my personal opinions against everybody who disagrees with me.

Now, let's start with Bruce. Bruce, in Under The Hood and wrt the no kill rule (not necessarily all of his ethics, i'm talking specifically about the no kill rule), is defending a deontological position. Deontology is a philosophy of ethics coined by christian🧷 18th century German philosopher Immanuel Kant. The philosophy of ethics asks this question: what does it mean to do a good action? And deontology answers "it means to do things following a set of principles". Basically Kant describes what are "absolute imperatives" which are rules that hold inherent moral values: some things are fundamentally wrong and others are bad. Batman's no-kill rule is thus a categorical imperative: "Though Shall not Kill"🧷, it is always wrong to kill. (Note that I am not saying Bruce is kantian just because he has a deontology: Kant explained the concept of deontological ethics, and then went up to theorize his own very specific and odd brand of deontology, which banned anything that if generalized would cause the collapse of society as well as, inexplicably, masturbation. Bruce is not Kantian, he's just, regarding the no kill rule, deontological. Batman is still allowed to wank, don't worry.)

In this debate, deontological ethics are often pit up against teleological ethics, the most famous group of which being consequentialism, the most famous of consequentialisms being utilitarism. As the name indicates, consequentialist theories posit that the intended consequences of your actions determine if those actions were good or not. Utilitarism claims that to do good, your actions should aim to maximise happiness for the most people possible. So Jason, when he says "one should kill the Joker to prevent the thousands of victims he is going to harm if one does not kill him", is holding a utilitarian position.

The debate between deontology and utilitarism has held many forms, some fantastical and some with more realistic approaches to real life like "say you're hiding from soldiers and you're holding a baby that's gonna start crying, alerting the soldiers and getting everyone in your hideout massacred. Do you muffle the baby, knowing it will suffocate and kill it?" or "say there's a plague going on and people are dying and the hospital does not have enough ventilators, do you take the one off of the comatose patient with under 0.01% chance of ever waking up to give it to another patient? What about 1%?", etc, etc. The most famous derivative of this dilemma, of course, being the infamous trolley problem.

This is what is meant when we say "the UTH confrontation is a trolley problem." The final confrontation at the warehouse is a variation, a derivative of the utilitarian dilemma that goes as follows: "if someone was trying to kill someone in front of you, and that murder would prevent the murder of thousands, should you try to stop that murder or let it happen?"

Now, here's a question: why are there so many derivatives of the trolley problem? Why do philosophers spend time pondering different versions of the same question instead of solving it?

My opinion (and the one of much, much smarter people whose name i forgot oops) is that both systems fail at giving us a satisfying, clean-cut reply. Now, most people have a clean-cut answer to the trolley problem as presented here: me personally, I lean more towards utilitarianism, and I found it logical to pull the lever. But altering the exact situation makes me change my answer, and there is very often a point where people, no matter their deontological or utilitarian velleities, change their answer. And that's interesting to examine.

So let's talk about deontology. Now my first gripe with deontology it's that it posits a set of rules as absolute and I find that often quite arbitrary. 🧷 Like, it feels a little like mathematical axioms, you know? We build a whole worldview on the assumption that these rules are inherently correct and the best configuration because it feels like it makes sense, and accidentally close our mind to the world of non-euclidian ethics. In practice, here are some situations in which a deontologist might change their mind: self-defense killing, for example, is often cited as "an exception to the rule", making that rule de facto non-universal; and disqualifying it as an absolute imperative. Strangely enough, people will often try to solve the trolley problem by deciding to kill themselves by jumping on the tracks 🧷 which is actually a utilitarian solution: whether you're pulling the lever or you're jumping on the tracks, you are choosing to kill one person to stop the people from being run over. Why does it matter if it's you or someone else you're killing? You're still killing someone. Another situation where people may change their answer would be, like "what if you needed to save your children but to do so you had to kill the ceo of united healthcare?" Note that these are only examples for killing, but the biggest issue is that deontology preaches actions are always either good or wrong, and the issue with that lack of nuance is best illustrated with the kantian problem regarding the morality of lying: let's say it's the holocaust and a family of jews is hiding in your house. Let's say a nazi knocks on your door and asks if there are people hiding in your house. You know if you tell the truth, the jews in your house will be deported. In that situation, is it morally correct to lie? Now, Kant lived before the Holocaust, but in his time there was a similar version of this problem that had been verbalised (this formulation is the best-known derivative of this problem btw, I didn't invent it) and Kant's answer, I kid you not, was still "no it is not morally acceptable to lie in that situation".

And of course, there are variations of that problem that play with the definition of killing- what defines the act of killing and can the other circumstances (like if there's a person you need to save) alter that definition? => Conclusion: there is a lot more nuance to moral actions than what a purely deontological frame claims, and pushing deontology to its limits leads to situations that would feel absurd to us.

Now let's take utilitarianism to its own limits. Say you live in a world where healthcare has never been better. Now say this system is so because there is a whole small caste of people who have been cloned and genetically optimized and conditioned since birth so that their organs could be harvested at any given moment to heal someone. Let's say this system is so performant it has optimised this world's humanity's general well-being and health, leading to an undeniable, unparalleled positive net-worth for humanity. Here's the question: is this world a utopia or a dystopia? Aka, is raising a caste of people as organ cattle morally acceptable in that situation? (Note: Because people's limits on utilitarianism vary greatly from one person to another, I chose the most extreme example I could remember, but of course there are far more nuanced ones. Again, I wasn't the one to come up with this example. If you're looking for examples of this in fiction, i think the limits of utilitarianism are explored pretty interestingly in the videogame The Last of Us).

=> Conclusion: there is a lot more nuance to moral actions than what a purely utilitarian frame claims, and pushing utilitarism to its limits leads to situations that would feel absurd to us.

This leads us back to Under the Hood. Now because UTH includes a scathing criticism of Batman's no kill rule deontology, but Jason is also presented as a villain in this one, my analysis of the whole comic is based on the confrontation between both of these philosophies and their failures, culminating in a trolley dilemma type situation. So this is why it makes sense to have Bruce get mad at Jason for killing Captain Nazi in self-defense: rejecting self-defense, even against nazis, is the logical absurd conclusion of deontology. Winick is simply taking Bruce's no-kill rule to the limit.

And that's part of what gets me about Jason killing goons (aside from the willis todd thing that should definitely have been addressed in such a plot point.) It's that it feels to me like Jason's philosophy is presented as wrong because it leads to unacceptable decisions, but killing goons is not the logical absurd conclusion of utilitarianism. It's a. a side-effect of Jason's plot against Bruce and/or, depending on how charitable you are to either Jason's intelligence or his morals, b. a miscalculation. Assuming Jason's actions in killing goons are a reflection of his moral code (which is already a great assumption, because people not following their own morals is actually the norm, we are not paragons of virtue), then this means that 1) he has calculated that those goons dying would induce an increase in general global human happiness and thus 2) based on this premise, he follows the utilitarian framework and thus believes it's moral to kill the goons. It's the association of (1) and (2) that leads to an absurd and blatantly immoral consequence, but since the premise (1) is a clear miscalculation, the fact that (1) & (2) leads to something wrong does not count as a valid criticism of (2): to put it differently, since the premise is wrong, the conclusion being wrong does not give me any additional info on the value of the reasoning. This is a little like saying "Since 1+ 3= 5 and 2+2=4, then 1+3+2+2 = 9". The conclusion is wrong, but because the first part (1+3=5) is false, the conclusion being wrong does not mean that the second part (2+2 =4) is wrong. So that's what frustrates me so much when people bring up Jason killing goons as a gotcha for criticizing his utilitarian philosophy, because it is not!! It looks like it from afar but it isn't, which is so frustrating because, as stated previously, there are indeed real limits to utilitarianism that could have been explored instead to truly level the moral playing field between Jason and Bruce.

Now that all of this is said and done, let's talk about what in utilitarianism and deontology makes them flawed and, you guessed it, talk some about neuropsychology (and how that leads to what's imo maybe the most interesting thing about the philosophy in Under the Hood.)

In Green Arrow (2001), in an arc also written by Judd Winick, Mia Dearden meets a tortured man who begs her to kill him to save Star City (which is being massacred), and she kills him, then starts to cry and begs Ollie for confirmation that this was the right thing to do. Does this make Mia a utilitarian? If so, then why did she doubt and cry? Is she instead a deontologist, who made a mistake?

In any case, the reason why Mia's decision was so difficult for her to make and live with, and the reason why all of these trolley-adjacent dilemmas are so hard, is pretty clear. Mia's actions were driven by fear and empathy. It's harder to tolerate sacrificing our own child to avoid killing, it's harder to decide to sacrifice a child than an adult, a world where people are raised to harvest their organs feels horrible because these are real humans we can have empathy towards and putting ourselves in their shoes is terrifying... So we have two "perfectly logical" rational systems toppled by our emotions. But which is wrong: should we try to shut down our empathy and emotions so as to always be righteous? Are they a parasite stopping us from being true moral beings?

Classically, we (at least in my culture in western civilization) have historically separated emotions from cognition (cognition being the domain of thought, reasoning, intelligence, etc.) Descartes, for example, was a philosopher who highlighted a dualist separation of emotion and rationality. For a long time this was the position in psychology, with even nowadays some people who think normal psychologists are for helping with emotions and neuropsychologists are for helping with cognition.(I will fight these people with a stick.) Anyway, that position was the predominant one in psychology up until Damasio (not the famous writer, the neuropsychologist) wrote a book named Descartes' Error. (A fundamental of neuropsychology and a classic that conjugates neurology, psychology and philosophy: what more could you ask for?)

Damasio's book's title speaks for itself: you cannot separate emotion from intelligence. For centuries we have considered emotions to be parasitic towards reasoning, (which even had implications on social themes and constructs through the centuries 📌): you're being emotional, you're letting emotions cloud your judgement, you're emotionally compromised, you're not thinking clearly... (Which is pretty pertinent to consider from the angle of A Death in the Family, because this is literally the reproach Bruce makes to Jason). Damasio based the book on the Damasio couple's (him and his wife) study of Phineas Gage, a very, very famous case of frontal syndrome (damage to the part of the brain just behind the forehead associated with executive functions issues, behavioural issues and emotional regulation). The couple's research on Gage lead Damasio, in his book, to this conclusion: emotions are as much of a part of reasoning and moral decision-making as "cold cognition" (non emotional functioning). Think of it differently: emotional intelligence is a skill. Emotions are tools. On an evolutionary level, it is good that we as people have this skill to try and figure out what others might think and do. That's useful. Of course, that doesn't mean that struggling with empathy makes you immoral, but we people who struggle with empathy have stories of moments where that issue has made us hurt someone's feelings on accident, and it made us sad, because we didn't want to hurt their feelings. On an evolutionary level (and this is where social Darwinism fundamentally fails) humanity has been able to evolve in group and in a transgenerational group (passing knowledge from our ancestors long after their death, belonging to a community spread over a time longer than our lifetime) thanks to social cognition (see Tomasello's position on the evolution of language for more detail on that), and emotions, and "emotional intelligence" is a fundamental part of how that great system works across the ages.

And that's what makes Batman: Under the Hood brilliant on that regard. If I have to make a hypothesis on the state of Winick's knowledge on that stuff, I would say I'm pretty sure he knew about the utilitarism vs deontology issue; much harder to say about the Damasio part, but whether he's well-read in neuropsychology classics or just followed a similar line of reasoning, this is a phenomenally fun framework to consider UTH under.

Because UTH, and Jason's character for the matter, refuse to disregard emotions. Bruce says "we mustn't let ourselves get clouded by our emotions" and Jason, says "maybe you should." I don't necessarily think he has an ethical philosophy framework for that, I still do believe he's a utilitarian, but he's very emotion-driven and struggling to understand a mindframe that doesn't give the same space to emotions in decision-making. And as such, Jason says "it should matter. If the emotion was there, if you loved me so much, then it should matter in your decision of whether or not to let the Joker die, that it wasn't just a random person that he killed, but that he killed your son."

And Bruce is very much doubling down on this mindset of "I must be stronger than my feelings". He is an emotionally repressed character. He says "You don't understand. I don't think you've ever understood", and it's true, Jason can't seem to understand Bruce's position, there's something very "if that person doesn't show love in my perspective and understanding of what love is then they do not love me" about his character that I really appreciate. But Bruce certainly doesn't understand either, because while Jason is constantly asking Bruce for an explanation, for a "why do you not see things the way I do" that could never satisfy him, Bruce doesn't necessarily try to see things the way Jason does. And that's logical, since Jason is a 16 years old having a mental breakdown, and Bruce is a grown man carrying on the mission he has devoted himself to for years, the foundation he has built his life over. He can't allow himself to doubt, and why would he? He's the adult, he's the hero, he is, honestly, a pretty stubborn and set-in-his-ways character. So, instead of rising to the demand of emotional decision-making, Bruce doubles down on trying to ignore his feelings. And Jason, and the story doesn't let him. Bludheaven explodes. This induces extremely intense feelings in Bruce (his son just got exploded), which Jason didn't allow him to deal with, to handle with action or do anything about; Jason says no you stay right there, with me, with those emotions you're living right now, and you're making a decision. And there's the fact Bruce had a mini-heart attack just before thinking Jason was dead again. And there's the fact he mourned Jason for so long, and Stephanie just died, and Tim, Cass and Oracle all left, and the Joker is right there, and Jason puts a gun in his hands (like the gun that killed his parents)... All of that makes it impossible for Bruce to disregard his emotions. The same way Jason, who was spilling utilitarian rhetoric the whole time, is suddenly not talking about the Joker's mass murder victims but about he himself. The same way Jason acts against his own morals in Lost Days by sparing the Joker so they can have this confrontation later. That's part of why it's so important to me that Jason is crying in that confrontation.

Bruce's action at the end of the story can be understood two ways:

-he decides to maim/kill Jason to stop the insupportable influx of emotions, and him turning around is his refusal to look at his decision (looking away as a symbol of shame): Bruce has lost, in so that he cannot escape the dilemma, he succumbs to his emotions and acts against his morals.

-the batarang slicing Jason's throat is an accident: he is trying to find a way out of the dilemma, a solution that lets him save his principles, but his emotions cloud his judgement (maybe his hand trembles? Maybe his vision is blurry?). In any case, he kills his son, and it being an accident doesn't absolve him: his emotions hold more weight than his decision and he ends up acting against his morals anyway.

It's a very old story: a deontologist and a utilitarian try to solve the trolley problem, and everyone still loses. And who's laughing? The nihilist, of course. To him, nothing has sense, and so nothing matters. He's wrong though, always has been. That's the lesson I'm taking from Damasio's work. That's the prism through which I'm comparing empathy to ethics in Levinas' work and agape in Compté-Sponsville's intro to philosophy through.

It should matter. It's so essential that it matters. Love, emotions, empathy: those are fundamental in moral evaluation and decision making. They are a feature, not a bug. And the tragedy is when we try to force ourselves to make them not matter.

Anyway so that was my analysis of why Damasio's position on ethics is so fun to take in account when analysing UTH, hope you found this fun!

[aninipanin1]

FLASHBACK...

Notes: Since Adult manager had her backstory now, it's time for Young manager. And you may ask why the writing style is a bit different, its because I copied the style of how the backstories are written.

In the poorest parts of Tokyo, where beneath the beautiful lights and rich infrastructures lies, the hidden neighbourhoods of people who can not afford to live the life of luxury and stability the city gives.

There, in a public and overcrowded hospital, Y/n was born from an unemployed mother and a minimuk-wage worker of a father. Both were there, looking down unto their daughter.

Instead of happiness, however, dread and disgust were all that they could muster at their child. They can not afford to even feed themselves, yet they had another mouth to feed?

It was not like they had a choice to terminate the pregnancy, seeing as to how expensive it was. But now, as they watched the crying infant, all they could do was recoil.

In that hospital, L/n Y/n's life began.

"M/n! Shut that damn brat's mouth!"

"I'm trying, you idiot! How about you try all the hard work raising this brat!?"

The woman tried her best to shut the infant's cries, aggressively swaying her, trying to feed her, or even just leaving her alone on a mat.

However, there was no sensitivity or want to understand what it is the infant needs or wants. All that was needed is to keep the calm and peace inside the household.

Through this, the girl lived to adapt and be independent and quiet no matter what happened.

"99...100..."

The 1-year-old babbled under her breath, small arms extended to the broken wooden ceiling of the room. She heard a few men outside of their house doing something while counting seemingly. With only hearing it once, the little girl managed to store it all in her little brain.

Life was boring and long. Days are filled with nothing but quietness and physical suffering. Her parents are either always gone or avoiding her. Her father always trying his best to never come home from work to see his small amount of money being wasted to another human being other than him and his wife.

Meanwhile, her mother is always out from the house, prefering to walk amongst the streets envisioning a better life without a worthless husband and even a more worthless husband.

The little girl is always left, hungry, thirsty, and full of boredom and loneliness. She does not know how to cry, laugh or even feel anymore. Due to the lack of response from her parents whenever she expressed anything as an infant ran its effect. The toddler would just stare into the ceiling for hours on end.

Hunger and thirst are even easily forgettable now. But all she can never stop doing was think. Think about the details of the room. Think about how big it is. Listen to the muffled conversation of the passerbys across her window. From everyday gossips about people, go the engineers talking outside as they build more and more houses around the areas, to even the sounds of different animals going about their lives.

Hear, feel, think, recognize, remember.

Hear, feel, think, recognize, remember.

The mantra of her everyday life. It was the only way to make her feel alive. Think. Think. Think.

Keep thinking.

The information's not enough? Strategize, analyze, all of it to find the answer.

In her 1st year of living in the world, L/n Y/n realized that thinking is the only thing to keep her alive.

At the age of 3, her parents found her laying on the dirty mat in the room, scratching out dozens of numbers on the wooden floorboards and walls. There were mathematical symbols, some scratched out as if the writer deemed it wrong or is just experimenting with her mind.

All of the symbols, numbers and letters she learned from no one source. Except it is learned from all the things she heard from strangers or vaguely asked questions to strangers from your window. All of it, with nothing but her own head and from hearing and seeing the world from her windows.

For the first time in forever, instead of looking down upon her with disappointment and disgust, the couple let out the biggest smile. So wide that it rivals that of the crescent moon upon the sky that night.

"Y/n-chan, look at what you did! Oh, you're so smart!"

"That's our Y/n-chan! You'll be doing so good in the future!"

Then, at 3 years old, that was the first time L/n Y/n felt warmth of a human's touch. And she learned, she loved feeling the connection of other humans towards her own skin.

"Y/n-chan! Look, me and your father bought you another Math book you can study!" The girl's mother shoved a thick book, the cover showing different symbols and shapes, the look of it already stimulating her brain.

"Also, I remember your abacus was broken and you don't have papers anymore. Here, Y/n-chan, I bought you brand new ones!" Following his wife, her father also added unto the book a ton of notebooks and a larger abacus all for her.

The girl blinked at all the gifts. Their once empty house is now filled to the brim with notebooks, textbooks and other educational items that she will use to study. Her parents made sure to always spend most of their money to make sure she had the best of the best when it came to her education.

And it was working. Her intelligence growing, the girl becoming an even brighter child. Advanced subjects were nothing to her, and it was evident to everyone that she had a bright future ahead of her.

Especially her parents. They will make sure that she indeed will have a bright future.

"Oh, Y/n-chan! You are our hope!"

"Don't disappoint us, okay?"

The 6-year old blinked at them, before nodding her head. She did not understand what they really meant, but to hear her parents happy was all she needed.

Especially, when they came close to her, giving her their warm hugs and hopeful wishes.

At 6-years-old, this warmth was all that L/n Y/n knew. And so, she made sure it will stay forever and if all she had to do was hone her mind and follow her parents to the end, then she would do it in a heartbeat.

But, she did notice that the hug was a teeny bit colder than usual.

"You did it, Y/n-chan! You perfected the admission test!"

"Oh, I never doubted you! Our smart girl!"

Her parents cheered, looking down at the paper from some popular school for geniuses she did not even bother remembering the name of. The 12-year old girl just blinked at the paper, remembering the test her parents and some proctor asked her to take.

'It was easy...'

But, you gave a smile. A smile you did not know if it was fake or true. Till now, you do not really know what feelings are. What did it all mean? How do you feel emotions? Or even, how does one even feel?

From her window as she sat in her study desk, she watched as kids outside laughed and cried, some adults even going angry at the said children. They all looked the same as her, some looked like they were the same age as them too.

They had eyes, ears, nose, hair and limbs like her. She was not an alien, nor are they. But why can't she genuinely laugh like them? Putting her fingers on her mouth to stretch it up, she can make it stay that way. But seeing from the kids outside, there should be something else, right?

There has to be because, if there is not then why are her eyes not squinting and smiling themselves? Why is it that her eyes are just wide and blinking, unlike their crinkling ones?

It was easy to memorize or discover the hundred digits of pi, but why was it so hard to discover true feelings?

"Y/n-chan, are you okay?"

She turned to her mother, who pointed down at the textbook she was in the middle of answering.

"Sorry, mother. I got a bit distracted."

"That's fine. Just make sure you don't get too distracted from your studies. After all, you have to become a great astronaut or even an aerospace engineer! Oh! Or even a doctor, a lawyer...the possibilities are endless, Y/n-chan! Especially now that you are entering your new school."

"Umhm. Yes mother."

The adult just smiled, squeezing the girl in a hug before continuing on watching her works.

And for the 12-year old L/n Y/n, the feeling of her mother's hug turned even colder than before.

"I'm L/n Y/n. I an 13-years old, nice to meet all of you." The girl bowed her head in front of the class. Seeing as she was new, the rest of the students all but looked at her with interest. The teacher smiled at her warmly before directing her to a seat in the middle of the class.

Each lessons that passed throughout the days just made the girl blink. It was either familiar already or too easy to understand. Due to this, even if the school is one of prestige with a reputation of handling students of extraordinary intelligence and talents, she became a bit of the odd one out.

It was not surprising, as in a room filled with hormonal teenagers, she stood out as the girl who felt nothing.

"Hey! Do you want to play?"

She turned around to find a small group of boys, with one of them holding a black and white ball. As someone who was always inside the comforts of her home studying, she is not knowledgeable or even slightly familiar towards sports.

Tilting her head, her (e/c) eyes looked unto the smile on their faces and the ball in their hold.

"Play?"

"Yeah! Let's play football! It's fun!"

Not wanting to be alone, the girl stood up from the bench, leaving her book and pencil behind before running unto the grassy field.

She and the boys ran across the fields, guiding the ball to the net. However, the moment it touched her foot, she slipped unto it and fell on her knees, arms and legs covered in dirt and grass with a few harmless scratches.

"Uh-oh! Are you okay?!"

"We can get a band-aid for you!"

As the boys worried over the girl, Y/n can only stare down at the dirt on her hands and the few scratches on her knees. For the first time, she felt something brewing in her stomach.

This was the first time she ever felt like this. Most of the time she perfected things the moment she saw it, but with this...she struggled? She failed and fell? Eyes as wide as an owl's, she could not believe it.

Most would expect thay failure would bring her to tears. But no...instead, the girl laughed. She chuckled before laughing genuinely, cackling jovially while hugging the ball in her arms.

And for the first time in the 13 years of her life, L/n Y/n laughed and felt true warmth for the first time in her life.

"THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!! THERE IS NO DAMN WAY SHE'LL SUCCEED IN THAT CAREER NO WAY! YOU'RE THE REASON WHY SHE IS THIS WAY!"

"OH SO NOW ITS ALL MY FAULT?! YOURE THE REASON WHY WE ARE THIS PATHETICALLY POOR IN THE FIRST PLACE! DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO RAISE A CHILD I DON'T EVEN WANT?!"

The girl watched from the crack of the door, seeing her parents hurl insults at each other at light speed. They both blamed each other, threw insults at each other as if they themselves were perfect beings.

Now, why was this happening?

It was mainly because a teacher called for both of her parents' presence in the school. And well, to the teacher, his news was absolutely spectacular! His treasured student that he was also worried about due to her lack of communication and emotions expressed. Now, she was a happy kid with a passion for a football! A place where she found joy and passion, mainly because she was struggling and the girl loved it!

In fact, the teacher got a little too ahead of himself that he said that with their child's development, she may become a professional player. However, that did not make the couple happy at all. In fact, they dragged their 'beloved' daughter to their house, told her to promise them she would never EVER touch or even dream of a football ever again before letting her in her room to argue with each other and plan for your future.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT, (M/N)! WHAT IF BECAUSE OF THIS SHE DOESNT BECOME SUCCESSFUL?! SHE DOESNT BECOME A DOCTOR OR AN ASTRONAUT LIKE WE PLANNED HER TO BE THE MOMENT WE FOUND OUT SHE WAS SMART?!"

"Me?! ME?! I DID EVERYTHING I CAN, YOU ASSHOLE!"

"WHATEVER! WE JUST HAVE TO MAKE SURE SHE NEVER TOUCHES A RETCHED BALL AGAIN! IF SHE CAN'T BECOME ANY OF THE PLANS WE HAVE FOR HER, THEN SHE IS AS USELESS AS WE BELIEVED SHE WAS THE MOMENT YOU BORE HER!"

"WELL! I AGREE! JUST DONT YOU DARE BLAME ME EVER AGAIN!"

It felt like a huge bucket of cold water was poured unto the girl. Ever since she first laughed, she started to learn how to feel, how to emote. And so now, it was all understandable to the 15 year old.

Her parents...never loved her. They never did. She thought wrong when she believed that her parents started to love her as the years passed. No, they loved her because she can be their future bank account the moment she got the dream job they wanted for her.

If she wasn't intelligent, then she would probably still be locked in her room, thrown food and a bottle of water to survive before being shunned away again so that her parents can not see the mistake they made. The mistake that drived them to have to sacrifice even more.

That was then, the 15-year old L/n Y/n realized that the reason why the embrace of her parents became colder everyday because the connection between them was never real.

"Awww, you can just watch us, okay!"

The girls ran from you as they continued their training. At 16-year old, you can just watch from afar as your teammates from last year continued their training. You were their midfielder for a few years, so it was hard for them to watch you quit, but they are always open to letting you watch them play to which you never rejected.

Watching wistfully, you can only sigh in sorrow, missing the feeling of even being involved in the sport. But you were in between the warm hold of the sport and the cold shackles of your parents. So you watched, watched until it felt like your eyes was about to explode due to the intense focus you have towards the players.

There were even times you swore you saw colors, shapes and other more illusions that told you how each player will move, and the other possibilities they may decide to move. It felt like you had some sort of future sight, but it was all thanks to your practice of fast and logical thinking.

There was one day that changed your life however, and it happened on one supposed normal day on the football field.

"If you want to be involved in Japanese Football, while not playing. Join me."

You turned to the unknown ravenette man. For some reason, he reminded you of the cheshire cat, but what took you a back more was a letter he threw to you addressed from the JFU itself.

Before you can ask what it was, he started to walk away and with him the weird aura that the guy had. At first, you were a little guarded.

Who wouldn't, tho? I mean, meeting a random man who just gave you some sort of letter and told you to join him? This can definitely one of those child trafficking stories you watch in some documentaries.

What you did not know, however, was that this is just the beginning of your journey to finding the answers to the long awaited questions you had in your life.

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[ayellowdaylily]

Commander's Needs [NSFW]

» pairing: canon!Hange x afab!Reader » summary: Delivering Levi's paperwork to a certain Commander turns into something you could only dream about. » word count: 3.4k » notes/warnings: smut... p in v, please read my Hange headcanon for this! lots of pet names (dear, darling, good girl, love), Hange has a cock and boobs *Vine boom*, major slow burn » a/n: I had sm fun writing this so I hope you guys enjoy it (first fic on Tumblr so pls be nice T-T) this is also half not edited bc it's 3 am... so uh don't mind it being practically all over the place » song recommendations: Intro: Singularity by BTS » Ao3 link Happy reading ദി(。•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

Only the sound of the crickets outside the window, as well as the quietness of the night, could be heard from Commander Hange Zoë’s office as they immersed themselves in some rather last-minute paperwork. The oil lamp’s flickering flame reflected off their glasses as they wrote, signed and stamped. 

The soft silence was suddenly broken by the sound of knocks at the Commander’s door, drawing their attention away from the messy paperwork splattered across the desk, to the unexpected raps. It was rather late, why would anyone come knocking, Hange thought as they got up from the chair.

“(Y/N), what are you doing here at this hour?” Exclaimed the Commander as they opened the door to reveal the sudden visitor.

“Oh- so sorry for the late disturbance,” You said with a panicked tone as you glanced nervously at the papers in your hand, guiding them towards the Commander’s direction. “Captain Levi had instructed me to give these to you.”

As Hange sensed your tense posture, they swiftly grabbed the papers from your hands, examining them with an apparent curiosity about their contents.

“No need to worry! So Levi’s got you to do his dirty work this time?” Hange asked jokingly as they leaned against the door frame.

“I was just passing by, I’m guessing I was one of the few still awake at this time. I don’t mind tho.” You replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

Hange removed their weight from the doorframe as they returned to their desk “Now that you’re here, I might as well enjoy the company.” They pulled a chair and patted it. “Come, sit down.” 

With hesitation, you slowly approached the seat and settled yourself beside Hange. The sound of a chair scraping at the floor broke the awkward silence as the Commander scooted themselves closer.

“So, besides being Levi’s mail person, what else do you do?”

You didn’t answer immediately as you gathered your thoughts, holding your tongue before answering.

“I volunteer in the medical bay quite often, if not I'm just your regular old scout.”

Hange took the time to examine you as you spoke, taking in every detail - from your hair to how the soft orange light cast by the oil lamp’s flame reflected in your eyes. You simply looked… captivating. 

“A medic, huh?” Hange finally spoke once they acknowledged they had been silent for too long. “That means you know a thing or two about anatomy, right?”

“I do, I’ve seen and learned lots of things.” You responded quickly as the Commander’s question took you aback.

Hanges eyes surveyed your face, looking for any hint of hesitation, but it wasn’t intimidating, it was… more curious than anything. Moist began covering the palms of your hands as they took their time to answer once more. Quickly, you wiped them on your pants.

“Do you think you could take a look at my neck real quick?”

“Of course! What seems to be the problem Commander?” 

Slowly, Hange’s blouse revealed their shoulders as well as the upper part of their chest while they undid the first few buttons. You felt a soft plush crawl at your cheeks at the sight of Hange’s exposed skin but as the Commander turned around, you observed a swollen part of their skin located on the upper back.

“This spot has been killing me. I don’t know what the hell happened but can you take a look?” Hange said with their back turned, awaiting your medical remarks.

“Well, I think you have a knot in your neck… I’d need to take a closer look to be sure.” You explained softly.

“Do what you must, doctor.” Hange joked.

You gave them a soft hum before reaching out. The contact between your cold hands and the warmth of their body sent jolts up your spine as you touched Hange’s skin, softly touching the tense muscle.

Hanges nerves followed the touch of your fingertips on their back, they leaned into your touch a little, their breath catching in their throat when you started touching them in a not-so-delicate way, contrasting your previous soft touch.

“Have you been stressed recently?”

“Yeah, I’ve been a lot more stressed than usual lately. It’s been a rough few months, with the new position.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it…” You said as you continued to examine their skin with your fingers. “You simply have a muscle knot, you could always let it go away on its own, or I could loosen it a bit to help. But for it to get better in general, you need good nutrition and rest.”

Hange listened intently as you explained, their mind fixated on the way your touch felt on their skin. They nodded in agreement as you suggested to help loosen it slightly, but hearing your last suggestion caused a small chuckle to escape their lips.

“Rest? That’s a good one, I don't think I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks. I don’t have time for-”

“Commander!” Gripping their shoulders, you turned Hange around to face you. “It’s important for you to get rest. As a matter of fact, as your acting doctor, I want you to go to bed now! The paperwork can wait.” You persisted.

Taken aback by your insistence, Hange simply stared into your eyes. They weren’t used to someone, especially a lower-ranked scout, telling them what to do. The corners of their lips quivered as they fought back the smile threatening to spread across their face.

“You think you can tell me what to do? I have lots of important work to get done tonight.” Hange said with a teasing tone as they folded their arms across their chest. You knew damn well you had absolutely no right to order the Commander around, but you were genuinely concerned for their health.

“Commander, please. It really is important to take care of yourself. No matter how much “important” work you may have.”

The only reaction Hange gave you was a soft chuckle at your persistence. They weren’t used to someone being so headstrong with them, but they secretly found themselves amused by your determination.

“Alright, alright. I’ll rest. I guess you only have my best interest in mind, right?” Hange responded as she shook her head in defeat. 

“You bet, Commander!” You said with a bright smile plastered on your face that Hange couldn’t help but return. There was something about your presence that put them at ease, even though your determined attitude, they were enjoying this little back-and-forth banter.

“You’re feisty, you know that?” Hange exclaimed as they slipped their blouse back onto their shoulders, not bothering to rebutton the top buttons. “I like it” 

A soft blush began covering your cheeks as you ignored their last comment.

“No time for joking around, you need a good night's rest for once.” You said demandingly as Hange held up their hands in surrender with a faint laugh.

“Yes I’m going, I’m going.” They said in a low voice, getting up from their chair with a groan.

“One more thing though…” Hange continued, stopping you in your walk towards the door.

“What is it, Commander?”

Hange remained silent before they stepped closer to you, observing you once more with a curious gaze.

“Is it a part of a doctor’s job to also ensure the patient they’re checking on… enjoys the experience?” Their voice dropped to a lower, more intense tone as they asked you. Their gaze fixed so intensely into you.

Your words came out with a stutter as Hange loomed over you, their imposing presence slightly intimidating you. “O-our patients' experience is the most important part of the job.”

The Commander smirked at your stammered response. They could tell they were making you seemingly nervous, but your reaction only fueled their enjoyment and encouraged them to push further.

“Is that so” Hange taunted under their breath as they closed the small gap between you two, their strides bringing them overwhelming close, forcing your body to make contact with their office door. They raised a hand and delicately caressed your cheek while slowly tracing the outline of your face tenderly, their touch sending pleasurable shocks through your body. Faced with the Commander's unexpected boldness, you only stood frozen in shock, unable to react any other way. A soft snicker escaped Hange’s lips as they watched your flustered face and nervous stature. With their soft fingertips still tracing your face, they pushed away a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

��You’re awfully red… aren’t you, my darling?” They murmured into your ear. Shivers were sent down your spine as their soft breath tickled your ear. The comforting warmth of Hange’s touch disappeared from your face, their hand slowly continuing its path along your body before it came to a stop at your waist, trapping it in an intimate embrace. To your surprise, your body reacted strangely to the Commander's intimate touch, the warmth of their hand against your skin sent sparks of anticipation down your spine, brewing a heat deep within you that you couldn't explain nor ignore. A smile slowly crept to Hange's lips as they felt your body tensing up to their tender touch. The Commander continued to revel in the effect they had on you, the hand resting at your waist travelled higher, their fingers dancing across your bare skin, tracing patterns that sent tremors of pleasure through your body. You couldn’t help but look down as your cheeks flushed in embarrassment and trepidation at their touch. The anticipation in you grew stronger and stronger.

“You’re terribly quiet, darling… speak up.” Their hot breath tingled against the crook of your neck as Hange whispered, the hand that was once simply resting by their side now forcing your chin upwards.

“Commander…” You muttered as their touch sent sparks of anticipation down to your core. Hange’s grin widened at the sound of your frailed whisper, fueling the desire boiling inside of them.

 “Call me Hange, dear.” Their lips ghosted against the line of your jaw, drawing you closer. The soft, velvety touch of their lips sent subtle shivers of pleasure rippling down your body, the tender caress was an inevitable invitation to your anticipation. 

“Coma- Hange” You whispered. With a hum of satisfaction escaping Hange’s throat, the sound of their name coming from your lips fueled their enjoyment.

“Ah, that's better. I like the way it sounds when you say it like that.” They continued to pepper your jaw with soft, tender kisses, their lingering breath hot and warm against your skin. Hange’s hand, which had journeyed to your stomach, slowly trailed downwards, the tips of their fingers tracing a torturous path along the hem of your pants, creating a delicious tension that left you yearning for more. Leaning even closer, now bodies fully pressed onto each other, Hange’s face left your jaw and brought their lips to your ear.

“You’re struggling to keep it together, aren’t you?”

The Commander couldn’t help but grin a little wider at the soft serenade of you moaning their name. It was such a sweet sound, yet it sent such terrible images through Hange’s mind. Pulling their head back slightly, just enough to view how much of a wreck they had created.

And there you were, Hange’s eyes darkened, taking in your flustered state. With a small smirk appearing on their lips, they permitted their hand to venture further down your body, delving under the waistband of your pants to trace the edge of your underwear teasingly. Such close contact near your core sent jolts of excitement through you. You felt yourself becoming wetter as Hange’s explorations became bolder. Your eyes were drawn to Hange’s lips as if magnetized, you felt the longing hunger grow inside you as you remained powerless. The Commander's gaze bore onto you more intently, noticing the way your body trembled as their hand discovered newer parts of your soft, lush skin. They couldn’t help but flicker their gaze down to your lips for a brief moment before returning to your eyes, boring the same eagerness as their own. 

“Hange.. Please” You muttered quietly, you couldn’t wait any longer, the delirious tension had taken your mind by force. 

“Please what, darling?”

“Touch me, please…”

It was as if a string had broken, releasing a rush of need inside of them. 

Hange didn’t hesitate for a moment before allowing their hand to venture downwards towards your core, their fingertips finding your sensitive clit through the thin barrier of your underwear.

In response, you simply let out a soft moan of their name. Relieving, that’s how it felt. Darkness overtook your vision as you closed your eyes, letting the sensation of Hange’s fingertips caressing your sensitive core overtake you. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” With a forceful hand, the Commander took your chin and tilted it upwards. You obeyed their command, letting your eyes bore into theirs, but, you needed more, you needed them.

“Good girl” They whispered, their voice soft and intimate as they leaned forward, gently resting their forehead on yours. The closeness intensified the moment, their words filling the air between you like a shared secret only for the two of you. Your core became needy. You couldn’t stop yourself from lifting one of your legs, wrapping it around the Commander’s hips, bringing them even closer than before. 

“More… Please, more.” You muttered under your breath, begging Hange to feed your core’s hungriness. Oh, how your sweet begging and your desperate moans drove them wild; the Commander was more than happy to comply with your request. Their movement was painfully slow as they pushed the delicate fabric of your underwear to the side, finally letting their fingers come into contact with your bare skin. Hange teased you ever so slightly as they dragged their fingers down your slit, covering them in your slick. 

And before you knew it, a finger entered your needy core.

“Is this what you wanted, my dear?” The Commander’s breath tickled your ear as they whispered, their finger thrusting into you. You could only gasp at the sensation, bringing your hands up from their idle position to venture into Hange’s messy hair, tugging and combing through it. It was Hange’s turn to let out a soft moan at the sensation, your touch sending sparks down their spine.

“The way you’re sucking me in, it’s driving me crazy.” They whispered, their voice raspy with desire. An empowering rush of confidence overtook you as you allowed your hand to trail down Hange’s body, slowly moving until coming to a halt at the bulge of their pants. The bold move sent a thrill through you, the touch of your hand against their evident arousal filled you with a sense of excitement. The Commander let out a gasp as they felt your hand press against their core, the unexpected feeling ignited a sudden wave of heat and desire that coursed through their body. The intimate touch sent a shockwave of sensations around their body, their body responding instinctively to your caress by leaning into your touch, they felt every ounce of restraint slipping away. 

Hange moaned your name as their eyes darkened, not being able to hold back, they entrapped your lips into a searing, messy kiss while adding a digit inside of you. It was sloppy, yet you were trying to memorize the feeling of Hange’s lips on yours. The warmth of the hand that was once softly caressing the skin of your jaw now left it unattended, while suddenly entrapping both of your hands together. Without warning, the feeling of Hange’s fingers inside of you disappeared. You whined in protest.

“Shush darling, let’s get to the good part, shall we?” 

The sound of your ruffling blouse could be heard as the Commander unbuttoned it impatiently, all while leaving scattered kisses across your neck. Finally free from the confinement, your arms wrapped around Hange’s neck as they ventured lower, continuing with lingering kisses down your body. Hange hummed ever so slightly into every kiss. With a swift move, they hoisted your legs onto their shoulders and brought you off the ground. Their hands under your thighs, they held you securely against them while guiding you towards the bed. Your back made contact with the plush blanket as Hange gently put you down, their lips trailing up to yours to meet in a tongued kiss. The Commander’s lips were now seared into your memory, their tongue dancing with yours. You let yourself sink into the mattress as Hange unbuttoned your pants, leaving your covered core in the air. You bucked your hips as they pushed their knee to your sensitive area, grinding yourself onto it to get the least bit of pleasure. Admiring the view, Hange swiftly undid the last buttons of their blouse before tossing it with the rest of the discarded clothes on the floor. The warmth of their hands returned to your body as they ever-so-slightly lifted your back off of the bed to unclasp your bra, revealing your breasts. Your hands covered your sensitive buds as the cold air hit them before being pried away. 

“Don’t be shy, love, we’re already past the point of no return,” The Commander whispered greedily. Before you knew it, Hange’s mouth was latched onto one of your breasts, sucking and twisting your bud with their tongue as their hands worked around your panties, slipping them off of you while you were too exhilarated from the new sensation. 

Your eyes trailed Hange’s now naked body when they finally removed their garments, revealing their pretty bust and their needy cock that leaked precum. Joining you on the bed, Hange gently lifted your leg, their lips began a soft trail of pecks up your body until you were face to face. Honey-brown eyes bore into yours, searching for hesitation.

“Are you sure, my love?”

“This isn’t very professional,” You said in a teasing tone before instantly regretting your choice of words.

“To hell with professionalism.” They muttered in a ragged voice before entering you without warning. Your pussy sucked in Hange’s cock as if it was built just for them. Soft moans of your name left their lips at the sensation. Each one of their thrust made their cock explore a new cove of your core, making your hips buck every time. Your hands cramped up as you gripped the sheets before you tangled them into Hange’s dishevelled hair. You hadn’t expected the Commander to fuck as if possessed, their thrusts were rough yet relieving to your neediness. Sweet nothings kept spewing out of their mouth as you moaned; you could barely hear yourself over the sound of your skin slapping.

“So good, so good,” Hange muttered frantically as they buried their face in the crook of your neck, the feeling of their breath tickling your skin added to the many sensations you were feeling. It was almost overwhelming. Hands now holding onto their back, you clung onto them, nails digging ever so slightly into their skin. The Commander's soft grunts kept resonating in your ears.

Your walls began clenching around Hange’s cock, your breath becoming more and more ragged. Each trust sent waves of pleasure through you, you couldn’t get enough. 

“Fuck, I needed you so badly.” They mumbled as their elbows came to rest beside your head. “You look so pretty, getting fucked like this, my dear” 

You let out a lewd moan as Hange’s thrusts became rougher, you could tell by how their cock quivered inside of you that they were close. With a limp move of the hand, the Commander brought your legs to their waist. You held them tight with your wrapped legs, letting their cock access you deeper. Each thrust, groan, and squeeze threatened to push you over the deep end. Hange overtook you, you let it happen.

“Inside me, please… Hange,” You said in multiple breaths as your walls began quivering around their member. They gasped loudly at the sensation while letting out a cuss.

Stumbling over your breaths, you became undone on the Commander’s cock. Legs quivering and nails digging into their skin, you moaned Hange’s name over and over again as they fucked you through your high before they plunged deep inside of you for their last thrust, filling you up with their cum. 

Slowly, Hange slipped out of you, a gasp escaping your lips.

A smirk appeared as their eyes examined your now fucked-out body, as well as the soft white that escaped your hole, spilling onto the sheets. Hange was admiring their work of art.

With a lingering kiss on your temple, the Commander let their body fall beside you with a squeak of the bed. “Let’s get some sleep now, my dear,” 

“You’re such an idiot,” You chuckled before snuggling into their arm tiredly. 

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: BODY HAIR, BHAALIST DU DROW, BLOOD INQUIRIES, THE MAN'S DICK AND HOBBIES.

Answering more asks! As always, I want to apologize for not being able to get to everyone - literally nobody has ever complained about it, but I still feel bad 😅I appreciate everyone's questions and sweet messages all the same, and even if your ask isn't here I hope you can be entertained by the other replies!

Anon I feel terrible about having to say this because I can tell you were hoping for a specific answer here, plus doing your very best to sell your pitch to me -

But DU drow hates body hair.

I'm not making this up in the spot just to be a contrarian, this is one of various unimportant character details that have come up already at some point or another, for whatever reason. It is no coincidence that many of the characters he finds unattractive do have visible body hair, like Gale and Halsin whose hairy toes he dreads the sight of.

I refuse to believe that elves are truly dolphin-smooth as that would be an absolute biological nightmare, so both him and Astarion have a normal amount of peach-fuzz all over. Otherwise, DU drow finds the sight of anything longer/coarser than that unseemly, and the feeling unpleasant; it is simply what he grew up with and hence what he's used to. In this respect, he wants people who take after his own image.

As with most things, he could forgive it if he were in love with someone - assuming you don't mind the occasional joke about it. And unfortunately I think something as significant as Halsin's case would be too off-putting for him to ever give them a chance. A Shadowheart situation, on the other hand, he could grow to like.

I believe there's some sources that imply bhaal-corrupted(?) blood should taste a particular way, leaning towards the unpleasant. People can make up whatever headcanons they want with that information, BUT since I spent over half of this game supplying the guy with the stuff and he seemed all too pleased about it, I choose to assume it's not that bad.

I think there would be something... Lively about it? Fairly normal taste but it leaves a tingle on his tongue, like it squirms on its way out and dies in his mouth moments before it can hit the throat. Very salty, but it could just be his skin.

[FAR, FAR MORE UNDER THE CUT]

Bhaalist DU drow likes both cats and dogs just fine (again, he considers the animal kingdom to be it's own thing and hence removed from his fate to butcher humanity) and you wouldn't be wrong to assume he has a thing for dogs in that AU because of their unconditionally loving and loyal nature, however Bhaalist DU drow is still very much a cat person. He likes their independence, their little attitudes, their self-sufficiency, plus the fact that they keep the rat population in check inside the temple. He finds those qualities admirable, respectable, perhaps he would even find them desirable in a partner if, unlike he cats, he wasn't so opposed to them roaming free.

In-game DU drow succeeded the check required to spot Astarion before he could jump him - so yes, just not the version where they end up rolling awkward around the sand for 2 minutes, LOL.

He's semi aware of it, or at least he becomes aware whenever Astarion's mask slips. When Astarion is putting on a good performance, DU drow wholeheartedly believes it. Also, It's worth noting that Astarion does manage to have fun occasionally, and have periods of... Superficial happiness? They just so happen to be unfulfilling, and don't make up for all the other pitfalls of his situation when they inevitably come crashing back. He's also great at tricking himself into thinking this is a good time.

Bhaalist DU drow makes vague attempts at "making things better" whenever he catches him in a mood, usually through physical affection or lavish gifts. That works well enough the first year I think, before everything kind of loses its luster. After that, DU drow just gets it into his head that Astarion "doesn't understand what he must do to succeed and keep him safe".

This is a VERY interesting observation and... Maybe? Especially early in the relationship, DU drow finds Astarion's quasi-predatorial behavior very attractive, but only AFTER he notices his vampirism. I think this outlook of the character contextualizes Astarion's condition in a way that he can immediately understand and simpathize with, even if DU drow doesn't know much about vampires themselves. Of course, this is specific to Astarion - he does not extend this grace to the rest of his kind.

I'll be thinking about this one!

I don't know the video in question but from your description I think they would both be VERY confused, LOL.

HMM, I think that might actually depend on a lot of things! Assuming the woman (or just the other partner) in the relationship isn't a drow, and exactly what KIND of devotion we're talking about (is the drow pro-active? Protective? Does he put his neck on the line for this relationship with pride? Does he seem strong and capable and like he doesn't rely on his partner?) he might see enough of himself in him that they could actually get along. This is similar to how DU drow immediately took a liking to Aylin even though she's this moon-goddess child and a supposed beacon of justice.

The quickest way to get on DU drow's good side is to be the idealized version of what he believes himself to be. Oh, and not get in his way.

If they're both drow it's kind of hopeless though, yeah LOL.

Planning on it!!

DU drow never slept with Haarlep! He only took his clothes off and then attacked him full in the nude.

...I'm not sure how to justify that in the lore, but it's exactly what I did and it's too funny to take it back, LOL

I think Astarion was just kind of baffled by what transpired until DU drow turned to while hopping around pulling his pants back on and asked if he enjoyed the show, then he remembered he just loves finding any excuse to take his clothes off.

That's a lovely compliment, I definitely go for a very "organic" look so I genuinely appreciate it. Thank you!

Thank you!!! A lot has actually been said about Gortash in my #enver gortash tag, if you'd like to get all the gritty details. Suffice to say that they had a very odd but significant friendship.

DU drow is the kind of person who shoots awake as soon as the sun starts gracing the sky, but he tends to do whatever he has to do and then go back to bed right after, and stay there at least a bit past noon. He did this both in his bhaalist days and in Astarion's company, though the amount of time he spends asleep during the day definitely increases because of the vamp, especially over time!

So, the urethra in a penis is located pretty much on the underside of the shaft, so the wound actually does not reach it! As far as functions go - peeing and ejaculating - it comes out of the tip's opening as normal. When he first caused the wound it probably did puncture the urethra, but that would have closed up over time. What you see is the injury many years after the fact, after all.

So the implications are pretty minor. Aesthetically, his foreskin hangs a bit weirdly when he's soft (like a tiny little penis curtain) and has more give than usual. Functionally, he has spots within the scarred up injury that are either numb or overly sensitive. Also, you can kind of see the dickhead notch through his underwear which is fun.

Otherwise, that is pretty much it! No worries about the nature of the question I've gotten worse, LOL. Thank you for your kind words as well!

I think he used to write in his bhaalist days - very, very occasionally mind you - like if you scoured the temple you would find a dozen or so ripped up pieces of paper with little short poems on them, written in a very sharp and carefree hand. Anywhere from 3 to 10 lines per-poem, usually less than more. The sentences are descriptive of actions, never feelings or thoughts, but they don't ever seem literal.

Back in those days, he also went to the theater every other year.

Post-tadpole, he ends up dabbling in carpentry, leather-work, and enjoys listening for musical numbers taking place in taverns and inns to go to and watch. He eventually starts pulling Astarion into little slow dances when that happens. I think he might end up writing again someday, but not for many, many years.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au idea! This story was actually supposed to be a part of my fic "What to do When an Eldritch God Decides That You're Friend-Shaped", but I decided that this idea didn't really mesh well with the rest of that fic and would probably be better off as its own separate story.

And I will say, in my opinion, that this is probably one of my best au ideas yet. I had so much fun just writing this! Also, heads up, this post is going to be very long because I really love this idea! So, I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this au, which is set post-Camlann, Morgana wasn't able to take Merlin's magic away before the battle, so Merlin was able to save Arthur and defeat both Mordred and Morgana without revealing his magic. He was also able to prevent Gwaine's death since he kept Morgana preoccupied in the battle. So, Camelot is saved, and everything is great!

Except, Arthur has some questions. He knows from Morgana's furious screams during the battle that she was killed by a sorcerer named "Emrys", but Arthur never saw him. And Arthur recognized that name from when Morgana taunted him years ago by saying "Not even Emrys can save you now."

Arthur knows that he owes his kingdom and perhaps his life to this Emrys guy, but he knows nothing about him other than that he's a very powerful sorcerer, more powerful than Morgana. This frightens Arthur, as he doesn't know what Emrys wants or why he helps Arthur. For all Arthur knows, Emrys could be just biding his time to take over Camelot and was simply doing away with his competition by killing Morgana.

After things calmed down after the battle of Camlann, Arthur decides that he needs more information on Emrys. Who he is, what are his motives, how can they find him, and a million other details that Arthur needs to ensure his people's safety. He first goes to Gaius for information, but Gaius can tells him that, according to the myths of the Old Religion, Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth and is held in high regard by the druids.

Gaius's answer only heightens Arthur's alarm, as the prospect of having to fight to most powerful sorcerer ever is terrifying to him. However, he still doesn't have any good information on Emrys, so he goes to the next best source: the druids.

Thanks to Arthur making peace with the druids after promising the ghost of the young druid boy and permitting them to use their magic for peaceful purposes only, there were a couple druid camps not far from Camelot. Arthur picked the closer one and took a day to travel there alongside Merlin and a few knights in the hopes of finally getting some answers.

When they arrive at the camp, they're met with worried glances and panicked faces, but the druid elders welcome them into the camp nonetheless, offering them all a seat by their campfire and warm meal. Once they got settled and Arthur exchanged some pleasantries with Iseldir, the druid chieftain, Arthur was finally able to ask what had been plaguing him for weeks.

"Iseldir, I know that your people hold a sorcerer named Emrys in high regard, and it's come to my attention that he was responsible for Morgana's defeat at Camlann and possibly on other occasions. Please, I need to know more about him and why he's chosen to help me."

Several people froze and tensed at Arthur's questions, including Merlin. Arthur sighed internally at Merlin's usual panic. He knew that Merlin could become easily scared in the face of magic, so he should have knows that his friend wouldn't approve of Arthur actively seeking out a dangerous sorcerer.

After a short, tense pause, Iseldir clears his throat and responds.

"I'd be happy to answer some of your questions about the god of magic!"

Wait, did Arthur hear that correctly? God of magic?! Arthur, in his shock, blurted out,

"Emrys is a god?! I had heard that he was a powerful sorcerer, not some deity!"

Iseldir chuckled a bit before responding,

"Emrys is indeed the god of magic in the Old Religion, the son of the Triple Goddess herself! He is not simply the master of magic, but rather magic itself, its very incarnation!"

That... was a rather frightening prospect, and it confused Arthur even further. Why would magic itself fight against Morgana? Why take Arthur's side? And, perhaps more importantly, was Arthur going to have to fight a god in order to protect his kingdom?!

Iseldir continued before Arthur's hysterical thought could bubble up to the surface.

"As I said, I'm happy to answer your questions, but please know that there are some secrets that Emrys has entrusted our people with that we cannot divulge, and there are some truths that might be... difficult for you in particular."

Arthur frowned at Iseldir's answer, unsure of what to make of it.

"What do you mean it might be difficult for me in particular?"

Iseldir winced a bit, grimacing like he didn't know how to respond without warranting a negative response.

"Well, there are some elements of Emrys's story that intertwine with your own life in some ways that you might not expect or be ready to hear at this point. Your life and Emrys's are highly connected, King Arthur, even if you don't know the extent of it yet."

Arthur's eyes widened at this admission. His life was connected to this mysterious god of the old religion? How could that possibly be true? He had didn't even know that Emrys was a god until a few moments ago! However, as curious as he was about what Iseldir could be talking about, he had more pressing matters at hand.

"We can discuss how I am connected to Emrys later. For now, I need answers to more important questions. Why does Emrys help Camelot? What is he hoping to get out of it?"

Iseldir looked much happier to answer this question, speaking calmly with a serene smile on his face.

"Emrys had many reasons to stand against the witch. She frequently hunted down and killed more peaceful magic users who did not share her taste for vengeance and bloodshed, including our fellow druids and even the Catha, a small sect of priests of the Old Religion that followed Emrys's will. Emrys fought against Morgana to protect these followers of his from her wrath."

Arthur nodded at Iseldir's explanation. As odd as it felt to have something in common with a god of the Old Religion, he could understand very well the drive to protect his own people. If Emrys's people were also in danger because of Morgana, it made sense for him to join forces with Arthur, even if Arthur was unaware of that alliance. Seeing Arthur's understanding, Iseldir continued with his explanation.

"Emrys also fought against Morgana in order to punish her for her hubris and use of dark magic. There are certain dark arts that take the power that Emrys grants us and twist it into a horrible force, bound only by the will of its user. Such arts are expressly forbidden by Emrys, and he cannot control what sorcerers do with such magic after its been corrupted so thoroughly. Morgana frequently used such forbidden arts and claimed the title of high priestess while ignoring the will of the gods, even the one that she drew her power from. Emrys is normally slow to anger, but for such transgressions, he became furious with Morgana and sought to punish her for treason against magic itself."

Arthur understood that a little bit less, but he could also relate to Emrys's reasoning as a king who had also had to punish some of his own citizens for treason.

"I can see that Emrys stood opposed to Morgana, but does Camelot have anything to fear from him? I can understand why he might not be very forgiving towards us considering my father's actions during his reign."

To Arthur's immense relief, Iseldir shook his head slightly before providing an explanation.

"No, Camelot has nothing to fear from Emrys. He knows that not everyone in Camelot agreed with your father's actions, and he can see progress that you've made since the end of your father's reign. In fact, Emrys has assisted Camelot many times even when Morgana wasn't involved!"

Arthur reeled backwards in shock at Iseldir words. The god of magic, helping Camelot freely? Despite everything his father had done?! Iseldir's explanation forced Arthur to re-evaluate what he knew of the Old Religion.

He had always seen the Old Religion and its gods as monstrous and barbaric. However, that wasn't the case, was it? Emrys had saved the kingdom that sought to destroy him. The Disir had shown Mordred mercy, even though Arthur had rejected their offer. The White Goddess had restored Guinevere's soul at the Cauldron of Arianrhod and healed her of Morgana's curse. Were all of the gods and goddesses of the Old Religion so benevolent and kind? Had Arthur misunderstood the Old Religion for his entire life?

However, Arthur was still shocked at Emrys in particular choosing to help Camelot, supposedly with no ulterior motives besides a common enemy in Morgana. That was how Camelot had survived against such odds? How could it be that magic itself was on their side?!

As Arthur looked at Iseldir again however, he noticed that the druid chieftain's face had pulled into a grimace again. Arthur certainly knew that look, he had seen it on the faces of his council members frequently.

"There's something that you aren't telling me, isn't there? I know that there are some things that you may be hesitant to divulge, but please, I must know everything I can about Emrys, for the safety of my kingdom."

Iseldir paused again, sighing deeply. He sat still for a moment, as if pondering how to proceed.

"Truthfully, there is another reason why Emrys assisted you, but it involves what I spoke of earlier, wen I said that your life and Emrys's are connected in ways that you may not expect. I am willing to tell you such things, but these truths might be hard for you to hear."

Arthur leaned forward, his curiosity piqued again.

"I have learned many uncomfortable truths about my own life through the years, so I will ask you: how could my life be connected to the god of magic?"

Iseldir nodded at Arthur's words and began speaking with a serious, nearly grim, voice.

"I assume that you are familiar with how life is exchanged in the practice of the Old Religion? For any life give, a life must be taken."

Arthur flinched backwards at Iseldir's words, already recognizing what topic was about to be brought up. He had come to terms with the truth of his birth years ago, but hearing it again didn't make it any easier. Blinking back tears, Arthur responded.

"Yes, I... I know. I'm aware that my father made a deal with the priestess Nimueh to secure an heir, and I know that my mother was the one who paid the price in the end."

Arthur heard quiet gasps coming from the knights around him, while Merlin silently put a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder. Iseldir, after a moment, continued with his explanation.

"You are correct in your understanding, however, there is one part of the story that you are unaware of."

Arthur jolted in shock at Iseldir's words. There was more to the story of his birth? Frantically, Arthur started asking questions.

"What do you mean? What haven't I been told?"

Iseldir patiently and softly answered Arthur's questions, trying to soften the crushing revelation that he was about to tell Arthur.

"The balance of life and death is at the very core of the Old Religion. However, it is not the power of creation. The power over life and death was used by the high priestesses to resurrect and bring life to someone who has already passed. To magically create a new life, a new soul, from nothing is an act of creation, something that takes far more power than manipulating the balance of life and death. An act of creation takes the power of a god."

"I... I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?"

"I am sorry that you had to find out this way, King Arthur. But in order to successfully ensure that your mother and father had an heir, Nimueh called upon the power of her patron god: Emrys."

This time, it was Arthur was gasped in shock at this information, hysteria rising in him once again.

"Are you telling me that Emrys was responsible for my very creation?! That it was his power that created me?!"

"More than that, I'm afraid. To create your soul, Emrys did more than just weave his own power into a life. He cut out a shard of his own soul and breathed life into it, thus creating you. While we don't know his reasons for doing so, Emrys created you from a part of his own being."

Arthur felt like his breath had just been punched out of him. What... what did this mean?!

Iseldir must have seen his panic, and further clarified.

"In the eyes of the gods, this made Emrys your true creator and, in the eyes of the magical world, your father."

At those words, Arthur stopped breathing entirely. Unbeknownst to Iseldir, who kept going with his explanation, Arthur entire worldview was collapsing in on itself.

Magic itself was his father?! What did that even mean?!

And oh god was he even a Pendragon? Did he even have a legitimate claim to the throne of Camelot?!

Arthur's panic was so strong that he could barely feel how Merlin's supportive hand on his shoulder was now clenching hard enough to bruise.

(Meanwhile, inside Merlin's panicking mind: WTF??! Oh shit I owed HOW MUCH to Uther Pendragon in child support?! Am I a deadbeat dad to my own best friend??)

"This is why you triumphed over any foe, magical or otherwise. Emrys forbade any magic from truly harming you, and he rose to protect you when you needed him. He will always fight by your side, as you are, in many ways, a part of him."

Iseldir paused, now noticing Arthur's hyperventilating.

"I assume that you have many questions following this news. Please, feel free to ask anything, there's no need to be scared by this!"

Arthur took a deep breath and tried to keep from laugh hysterically. No need to be scared?! His entire life had just been turned on its head!

"If... if Emrys is my true father, what about Uther? Do I even have a claim to my throne?"

"Ah, there's no need to worried about that. While Emrys might be your father in terms of your soul, Uther is still your father in terms of blood. Do not fret, King Arthur, you are still of Pendragon blood and have every rightful claim to your throne."

Arthur calmed down a bit at Iseldir's words, breathing much easier now. This explained so many things about Arthur's life, how he had survived in situations that he by all means shouldn't have. Still, he had many questions for Iseldir.

"If I am truly the son of magic itself, am I even human, or am I some sort of demigod?"

At this question, Iseldir shook his head.

"That, I truly do not know. I'm sorry, but I don't think anyone knows the answer to that question except for Emrys himself."

Finally, an idea occurred to Arthur. He stiffened as he blurted out,

"Can I speak with him then? Is there any way to summon him?"

As soon as the idea took root in Arthur's mind, he couldn't get it out. Emrys had to have been looking out for Arthur for many years now, using his power to protect him. This notion of having a secret father who had been caring for him for years almost felt like having a second chance.

Arthur never had the relationship with Uther that he wanted. There was no affection, no bonding, and no comfort to be found there. Only expectations and demands.

But Emrys had apparently been helping Arthur for years with no expectations and no demands. Arthur had fantasized as a young boy about what it would have been like to have a kind, caring father, the kind he saw doting on their children in the marketplace. Now, it almost seemed like he had another chance of having a father, one who truly cared about him!

So naturally, Arthur wanted to meet him! Both the druids and the knights look slightly confused at Arthur's excited outburst about wanting to meet Emrys, but the druids tell him that they have everything that they need to perform a summoning ritual, but they'd need some time to set it up.

Arthur asks if they can set it up for him, and they nod and walk away to begin preparations. Meanwhile, Merlin and the knights ask Arthur if he's just lost his mind. They know that this must be shocking for him, but does he need to summon a god?!

Merlin shows the most vocal opposition to Arthur's plan, saying that they still don't even know if they can trust Emrys. All they have to go on is the word of the druids, and they seem pretty biased in Emrys's favor.

Arthur smiles and tells Merlin that he appreciates his protectiveness, but this is something that Arthur needs to do. He needs this closure, this chance to connect with his last living parent.

Arthur does take Merlin's concerns into consideration though, and orders for his men to leave the camp and take Merlin with them, so they're far away and protected if Emrys turns out to be untrustworthy.

(As the knights drag a struggling Merlin away, Merlin is frantically talking with Iseldir in his mind about what the summoning ritual entails and what it looks like. If he magically pops up next to Arthur right as Arthur does a ritual to summon Emrys, even Arthur would be able to put two and two together!

Luckily, Iseldir informs him that the summoning ritual will summon his soul, not his body, and Arthur wouldn't be able to recognize him. Still, Merlin tried to talk the druids out of the ritual, because Merlin doesn't want his soul to get yanked out of his body! But there was little that the druids could do with Arthur insisting on the ritual.)

After preparing the materials for the ritual, the druids take Arthur back into a tent to get him ready. Arthur's heart pounded in his chest with both excitement and fear as the druids walked him through what he had to do.

First, they gave him some plain but comfortable robes to change in to. They explained that Emrys preferred his followers to come to him in the garments of peace, not war, so his armor, chainmail, and weapons would have to be left in the tent.

After changing into the robes, Arthur felt strangely both vulnerable and comforted. As the druids rubbed some flowery smelling oil into his arms and then led him to a small wooden altar, Arthur couldn't help comparing this experience to approaching Uther.

Whenever he was meeting with his father, Arthur was expected to show no weakness, no flaws. He had to look the part of the warrior prince, trained since birth and hardened by battle. However, here with Emrys, Arthur was dressed in comfortable clothes and told to simply ask for Emrys's presence before the altar. He didn't need a sacrifice or penance or any sort of challenge to summon Emrys. All that the druids told him was to "call for him, and Emrys will answer."

Placing one hand gently on the wooden surface of the intricately carved altar, Arthur cleared his throat wetly before saying aloud to the empty space in front of him,

"Emrys, I'm... I'm not sure if you're here, but I'm your- your son, Arthur. You probably know me already, though, since you've been helping me and protecting me for a long time now. I- I wanted to thank you for your help. So, I would appreciate it if you could appear, so I could meet you and thank you in person."

There, Arthur thought that was a pretty good introduction! This was his first time meeting his new father, so he needed to make a good first impression!

Arthur stood, awkwardly shifting on his feet as he tried to push down his disappointment with each passing moment that Emrys did not appear. Maybe Arthur did it wrong? Maybe Emrys hadn't heard him? Or maybe Emrys had heard him, but was disappointed in Arthur and deemed him a weak son, just like Uther had?

As Arthur tried to swallow down his hurt, suddenly, there was a bright flash of light above the altar. It was so bright that Arthur had to throw his hand in front of his eyes and turn away, but his heart leapt at the sight.

Was this it?! Was he about to meet his creator and have another chance at having a father?

As soon as he could, Arthur lowered his hand and opened his eyes, anxiously awaiting his first glimpse at Emrys! As the light died down, Arthur was able to make out the outline of something...

As the light slowly dwindled, Arthur could see a bright, glowing ball of golden light, very similar to the one that had saved him from that cave so many years ago, floating above the altar. His eyes widened as he realized what, or more likely who, this light must be.

Emrys was a god after all, Arthur really shouldn't have assumed that he'd look like a human. The god of magic taking a human form, what a crazy idea!

Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Arthur called out to the light.

"Emrys? Is that you?"

At his words, the light floated down from the altar until it was hovering right in front of Arthur, an arm's reach away. Arthur fought the urge to reach out and touch the light, just to see if it was real and not just a product of his own wishful thinking.

After a couple seconds, the ball of light flashed, and Arthur heard what sounded like multiple voices coming from it, speaking in unison.

"Hello Arthur. I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you. I am Emrys."

(Elsewhere, Merlin mentally patted himself on the back for making his soul-self sound sufficiently inhuman and speak in a manner that was completely unlike his usual self. Arthur couldn't possibly figure his identity out now!)

Arthur let out a sound that was something between a joyful laugh and a sob. Emrys actually came! Clearing his throat, Arthur tried to calm down his excitement and nerves and put on his best diplomat voice. He needed to start off strong here!

"I'm glad that we could meet as well. It's come to my attention that I have many things to thank you for, including Camelot's victory over Morgana in our latest battle. You might have saved all of Camelot, and I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Emrys silently floated in place for a moment, making Arthur sweat with nervousness. Had he already blown his one chance of having a caring parent?

Finally, Emrys's... orb body (what else was Arthur supposed to call it?!) glowed again and spoke with his multiple voices overlapping in harmony.

"You do not owe me anything, Arthur. There are no debts between us. We are family, tied together by our very souls. You never have to feel indebted to me for protecting you and Camelot. I do it not for a reward or recognition, but because I care for you."

Arthur's eyes misted over as he took in Emrys's words. How many times had he wished to hear anything like that from Uther? How many nights had he lied awake wondering what unconditional love from a parent would feel like?

As tears started silently rolling down Arthur's face, Emrys drifted closer to him. Arthur was startled by this move and didn't really know how to respond. Hesitantly, he lifted his hands to ball of light, unsure of what to do.

Slowly, the light moved towards Arthur's outreached hands. Arthur almost expected to flinch back upon contact, but instead, when his hands finally touched the ball of light itself, he was only met with a warm, comforting sensation, and he instantly relaxed and leaned into it. The only thing he could compare it to were those warm hugs that Merlin gave him whenever he felt down, which he would never admit to Merlin that he enjoyed.

Arthur gently guided the light closer, until he was hugging it against his chest and that wonderful warm fuzzy feeling was spreading through his entire body. Arthur wondered if this counted as getting a hug from his father, and then immediately decided that the answer was yes. And his new father apparently gave very good hugs.

Arthur stayed with Emrys for several more minutes, until the sun was setting. From there, Emrys told him that he had spent too much time in the mortal realm and couldn't hold his form for much longer without taking time to rest. Panicking, Arthur asked if he would be able to see Emrys again, he couldn't lose his new father so soon after meeting him!

Emrys reassured him that they'd see each other again soon and that he'd be by Arthur's side the whole time, even if Arthur couldn't see him. Comforted by this news, Arthur bid his new father farewell, and the ball of light slowly dissipated.

Arthur then returned to Merlin and his knights, who had a million questions for Arthur. Arthur answered their burning questions as best he could, and they were relieved to see that Arthur was safe and not scarred by the experience of talking to the god of magic.

The next day, they returned to Camelot, and Arthur soon realized that even if he couldn't see Emrys himself, he could certainly the effects that Emrys had on the world around him.

Arthur never fell sick, his rooms were never too hot or too cold, his muscles were never sore from training, his attackers that snuck into the castle never managed to land a hit on him, his kingdom's crops prospered, and a million other things went right in Arthur's life, and for the very first time, Arthur understood.

Magic loved him. And, more importantly, his father loved him.

And it didn't escape other people's notice either. He had told the knights that he had brought with him to the druid camp to not discuss the revelation of his relationship to Emrys, but one knight got drunk at the tavern and told his friend, and someone overheard, and now everyone in the kingdom had heard the news that King Arthur was apparently the son of a god.

The fact that Arthur had secretly prayed for Emrys's help when Gaius reported about a deadly plague in the lower town, only for Emrys to immediately appear again as a ball of light in the middle of a council meeting in front of dozens of witnesses didn't help Arthur keep it a secret either.

(Meanwhile, Merlin hears all of Arthur's prayers for Emrys. He's able to take care of most of Arthur's concerns just as Merlin, but a very powerful/emotional prayer from Arthur actually summons him in his "Emrys" form, leading to some awkward moments, but he makes it work for Arthur's sake.)

On the bright side of Arthur's heritage being revealed, other kingdoms were now much more open to peaceful negotiations and trade deals.

And on one occasion where a very foolish king tried to declare war on Arthur, the enemy king's army only made it a hundred yards of Camelot's forces before the earth itself broke open into a wide chasm that started swallowing the leaders of the enemy army whole. No one was stupid enough to attempt an attack on Camelot after that.

Life goes on like this for about a year, until Arthur catches Merlin using magic for some mundane purpose. Arthur is shocked of course, but magic has been legal for a while now. When he questions Merlin on where he learned magic from, Merlin stammers and says "Well... uh, Emrys..."

Arthur cut Merlin off, yelling because apparently his father was teaching Merlin magic behind his back?! What was that about!

Merlin then decides to take this misunderstanding and roll with it, because there's no way in hell that he's looking Arthur in the eyes and telling him that he's actually Arthur's magical father.

Merlin spins a story about how Emrys had been slowly teaching Merlin magic so Merlin could help Arthur out and always have someone nearby with magic to protect him! Arthur accepts this story, but is secretly a little bit jealous. How come Emrys chose to teach Merlin magic and not his own son?

After Arthur asks Emrys about this, Emrys apologizes to Arthur, saying that he didn't know if Arthur would be interested. He then starts trying to teach Arthur magic (to pretty much no success). To further apologize to Arthur, Emrys gives him a gift! Emrys had apparently heard about how Uther had forbidden Arthur from having a pet as a child despite Arthur begging for one, so Emrys decided to remedy this by giving Arthur a baby dragon to take care of and to train to protect Camelot.

Everyone else is alarmed by this, but Arthur is almost moved to tears because he loves the little dragon so much already!

And this au is already wayyyy too long, so I'll cut it off there! I'm tempted to call this the "Arthur gets catfished into a healthy parental relationship" au lol!

I hope you all enjoyed this au! Sorry about it being longer than usual, but I had a lot that I wanted to write about this au idea! And if you want to see even more of this au, feel free to let me know if you'd like a continuation!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my (very long) ramblings! :D

[flowery-laser-blasts]

STRANGE MAGIC DRAKGO AU

First of all thank you @cocoa-night for letting me know the name of this movie. I saw a snippit of Dawn and Bog a few months back on instagram but I couldn't find the title. The second I watch this? BAM! I'm instantaneously sucked into the whole story. I don't care if people say it's a bad movie or cringe, it makes me happy.

This is a lot so if you're interested in the AU...

Designing these two in the style of the movie proved to be very difficult in the end. I'm still very unsure about these colours and details since it became pretty busy, however, I have left it as is for now and maybe in the future I might redesign it! I thought it was important to implement a bit of each other's colours in their outfits. A bit of blue in Shego's green Rajah butterfly wings and I wanted to capture the green reflection of the Scarab in Drakken's outfit, but the show's style rarely shows very shiny objects so I ended up with green accents in the collar and ends of gloves and boots. Note that these designs change a LOT in my sketches because I'm more 'free' with drawing and don't fully stick to things unless I fully render out things.

THE STORY: It basically follows the same storybeats as the movie but with some added lore I made of my own. Please don't expect a fully written fanfic. This is somewhat inbetween rough notes and script.

Kimberly, the Princess of the Faerie Kingdom, has been preparing to take her place on the throne ever since the day she was born. Under the strict eyes of Miss Go, her Governess, Kim has been leading up to the most important day of her life: choosing her husband and future King of Faeries at the Spring dance. However, Kim has other plans. During lunch periods Miss Go and Kim would often take a stroll in the Castlegarden, where she would listen to her Governess' past adventures as Shego; adventurer, world explorer, kick-ass Faerie extraordinaire. "Whatever would make you quit that exciting life and be stuck in this place?" "Well, for starters: having a roof above my head and three meals a day is nice. A warm bed--" "You've become soft haven't you?" "Do you want extra homework Kimberly?" "No ma'am." "That's what I thought. Let's get back inside. It's almost time for your dance practice." Kimberly never received a 'real' answer to her question but something must've happened in Miss Go's past... Right?

"Sooo... the spring dance huh." "What's with that?" "Oh just... You having to choose a partner for life, that's uh- That's a big deal, huh?" "Yeah, no. I don't think so." "What?" "I'm not going Ron. I am so done with this boring castle! I want adventure! I want to see the things Miss Go has seen!" "Danger, homelessness and poverty?" "The WORLD RON!" "I mean... I guess--" "All I have to do is distract Miss Go long enough during the dance and I can finally be free!" "That woman is like a bloodhound... Unlike Bonnie. Man, I tell you Kiki. I've seen ladybugs in love but that girl has it bad! I passed by her today and she didn't even comment on my 'fashion sense' like usually, all because Brick was weeding the farm!" "Wait, Ron. Rewind; What did you say?" "My fashion sense, you know, my pants and shirt never match--" "No before that!" "Ladybugs in love?" "That's it Ron! Love makes blind, maybe blind enough for us to run away!" "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen Miss Go show any emotion other than anger-- wait 'us'?" "Well, duh, of course! You and me together Ron. You're my best friend since forever! Besides Miss Go may act cold on the outside, deep down I know she has a warm heart." "Well if you say so... But what guy would be brave enough to even try greeting her?" "Easy, general Barkin. You tell him that Miss Go has a crush on him!" "But she doesn't???" "Easy Ron: Love potion... now here's the plan." And thus Kimberly's plan, after Ronald wrote it down on a piece of parchment, was put in action: - Step 1. Get General Barkin to go for Miss Go. (Maybe they even fall in love right? That way we don't need a love potion to begin with!! Right!??! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE DARK FOREST! MOM TOLD ME I SHOULD NEVER GO THERE!) - Step 2. If General Barkin's persistence doesn't work: Love potion. Kim said that we could get some from the Sugarplum Faerie, but I heard that she's just a legend but you know how Kim is; she's headstrong. I love her for that but this is a bit dangerous, isn't it? I'm not going to let her go by herself though! She says she's found old documents in the archives of the castle, but are those even real? What if it's just a tale?? - Step 3. Put some of the love potion in Miss Go's tea? Food? How does this even work! I've never seen it in real life! Can you overdose on it? Argh Kiki why are you doing this to me!!

"Wh-what? The Dark forest?! Miss Go, we all know that no one is--" "I'm joking Princess. Of course I'll come to the dance. Someone has to make sure that you find the right man to marry. The kingdom's fate is at stake." The night before the Spring Dance, Kimberly and Ronald met at the edge of the kingdom, ready to go into the unknown of the dark forest.

"You got all the ingredients Ron?" "Boy do I! It took me a few hours but I found everything we need for a love potion!" "Spankin! Alright, all we've got to do now is get to the middle of the Dark Forest and then in the Kobold King's cast--" "K-k-k-k-k KOBOLD KING? KIMBERLY, THIS WON'T END WELL. I THOUGHT- YOU KNOW, SUGAR PLUM JUST DIDN'T WANT TO PARTICIPATE IN SOCIETY ANYMORE AND STARTED LIVING IN THE DARK FOREST... IN A COZY COTTAGE... THAT WE CAN WALK INTO FOR A VISIT? MAYBE GET SOME COOKIES?" "Ron, please. I need you to be serious and focus. Tell me: Are you in or not? I won't be mad at you if you want to go back, but I need to know now." "...I--" Ronald took a deep breath. "Yes, of course I am." "Thank you Ron."

Once in the forest, Kimberly and Ronald snuck around. They evaded giant centipedes and weird looking frogs. Luckily for the duo, they found the way to the Kobold King's Castle with the help of a chipper cockroach that tried to get Ronald's roadtrip snacks. Meanwhile in the castle, King Drakken was having an argument with his mother who, once again, brought in a suitor for her son. "Mother for the SO MANIETH TIME. I. DO NOT. WANT. TO GET HOOKED UP WITH A TOTAL STRANGER!!!" "WELL YOU NEVER LEAVE THIS CASTLE EITHER. IF YOU'RE NOT OUT THERE LOOKING FOR A GIRL, HOW DO YOU EXPECT THEM TO FIND YOU, HMM? I'M GETTING OLDER DREW, I DON'T WANT YOU TO WITHER AWAY LIKE A SHRIVELED UP WALLFLOWER AFTER I'M GONE" "Mother, that won't happen--" "FOURTY YEARS, DREW, FOR FOURTY YEARS I TOOK CARE OF YOU, RAISED YOU WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS AND WHAT DO I GET AS THANKS? A GRUMPY GROUCH THAT DOESN'T WANT TO GIVE HIS MOTHER ANY GRANDCHILDREN." "Oh for the love of--, if you want to take care of something: get a pet!! Love is just an obstacle if you look at the bigger picture." Drakken waved his mother off as his two minions, Fissi and Killi, ran in; telling him about the spies that sneaked into the forest.

Kimberly and Ronald managed to break into the dungeon and found the Sugarplum Faerie. After they got the love potion, they helped Sugarplum to escape but because of her very, very loud singing, the Kobold King arrived. "What do we have here? Two nimwits tresspassing my domain!?" "HEY! DON'T CALL THE PRINCESS OF THE FAERIES A NIMWITT-- Oops.." "RON!" "GIVE ME THAT POTION!" Ronald struggled against the grasp of the King. "KIKI, CATCH!" Ronald thew the flask of love potion in the hopes that the princess would catch it. However as she dove towards it, it broke onto the dungeon floor. The impact caused half of the potion to splash onto Kimberly's face. Enraged, the King tossed Ronald aside and ordered Fissi and Killi to cleanup the mess before more damage could be done. Kimberly's eyes unfortunately fell upon the tyrant's face "AND AS FOR YOU PRINCESS-- why, are you looking at me like that?" IMPORTANT NOTE: FOR THIS AU TO WORK, PLEASE BE MINDFUL THAT I SEE THIS AS A TEENAGE GIRL CRUSHING ON/FALLING FOR A FAMOUS CELEBRITY AND IT'S COMPLETELY ONESIDED, LIKE IN THE MOVIE. I DO NOT SHIP KIM AND DRAKKEN. Anyway, Drakken gets the absolute creeps and locks both Kimberly and Ronald up in each a seperate cell. The King was determined to make an antidote but had to admit; this accidental fiasco proved to be bountiful. With the princess as a hostage, Drakken would have the upper hand in demanding that the Faeries would surrender their kingdom to him as an expansion of the dark forest. This was almost too good to be true! Drakken told a few of his soldiers to go to the King of the Faeries and let his demands be known: Hand over the Faerie Kingdom if you ever want to see your daughter back, alive. Luckily for Drakken, Kimberly was very helpfull in gossiping about the kingdom... maybe a bit too much. Soon enough he had too much information. He didn't want to hear endless tales about, for example: Hank, the royal baker, who's cupcakes were the buzz of the town.

From the moment she got up until lunch time, Miss Go managed to evade General Barkin's advances as she made her way to Kimberly's quarters. As expected, she didn't find her there. Going to all of Kim's regular spots, she noticed a crumpled up parchment… Ronald's notes. "Those brats… When I get my hands on them--!!! I might need to find a new job." Miss Go set out to get to the Castle of the Kobold King, hours before his army arrived at the border of the Faerie Kingdom... From this point on, I'll refer her back to Shego as we're outside of the kingdom.

Drakken was going over his plan of attack as Shego crashed into the King's throne room, causing him to shriek and hide behind his desk. "Alright, cough up. Where's Princess Kimberly." "I could take you to her... If you surrender yourself to me, wench." "Fat chance dungbeetle." "HNG! WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!?" "Get that mulch out of your ear, saves people time in repeating themselves!"

Drakken and Shego fought tooth and nail until both of them were out of breath. That's when they noticed a familair voice. "Not again... It's been HOURS!" "Is that?" "I told her to stop talking about the castle... So she started singing instead." "Did she." "Love potion? Yes." "Oh no." Drakken sighed, "Come along... watch your step."

"YOU ARE A SICK, SICK MAN!" "WHAT?! THIS IT ISN'T MY FAULT!! THAT BUFFOON PRACTICALLY AIMED THAT LOVE POTION STRAIGHT THAT GIRL'S HEAD" "YOU'RE STILL TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THE SITUATION" "I'M WORKING ON AN ANTIDOTE IN THE MEANTIME!" "How long until it is done?"

Drakken and Shego spoke to the Sugarplum Faerie who gave Fissi and Killi a list of ingredients to gather. Meanwhile they went upstairs along wtih Drakken's mother to see the dininghall decorated in red hearts and all that hoopla.

"I have nothing to do with this." Shego looked him up and down, "Yeah, I can tell." "I don't know whether to take that as an insult or not." She shrugged. "Take it however you want it."

Hours passed and eventually both Drakken and Shego lost their patience. Both of them demanded to know the status of the antidote. Sugarplum told them that the antidote was inside the dungeon all along. "WHAT!? WELL WHAT IS IT?!" "YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS!" "Well what is it??" Sugarplum smirked and started to play out the tragic lovestory of the lovesick King who tried to forcefully win over the heart of a lake creature who was, unbeknownst to him, already in love with another.

"Ha...hahaha." "What's so funny Kobalt King?" "Even with that love potion, I am just too hideous to love, aren't I?" Shego felt a bit of empathy towards the King. He probably didn't notice it himself, but the few moments when the moon shone onto him through cracks of the darkened castle, he would faintly glow in a beautiful, almost mesmerizing azure blue shine. It almost made his wings and exoskeleton look like a finely polished gem. "ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO WHAT I AM SAYING?" Sugarplum's yelling snapped Shego out of her thoughts. Thinking about the story, Shego realised something: "Wait, do you mean that... urgh... 'true love' is the cure to all of this?" "Bingo! A love potion is fake, nothing about it is real. But true love, nothing can break that bond!" "...and 'in the dungeon'... Ronald! Argh!! Those two kids--" "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" "You locked me up and blamed all your misfortune on me! I tried to warn you but you NEVER LISTEN!" "Fissi, Killi.. Just... Just take her away and let that brat-- I mean; Let Ronald into Kimberly's cell. He might be able to wake her up from her delusional state." Drakken's henchmen took the Sugarplum Faerie and left the room. Shego turned to follow Fissi and Killi but hesitated at the door. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the King standing near the window. She took a deep sigh and walked over.

"Wowwww... you.... uhhhh... You planning on blowing this whole thing off?" "Hm? Yeah. Guess you can call this a revelation, I suppose." "What do you mean?" "This whole 'wanting to take over everything'. I guess I did it because I wanted to become powerful. All these years I wanted to hold power over those who have wronged me in the past and to show sweet, beautiful Amy that I could be worthy of her love. I now realise that I just felt lost. I wanted to control everything but--" "But you can't control everything. Sometimes you just need to let go and focus on yourself. Trust me, I know everything about that. My older brother? Total control freak that hovered over all of my siblings and I. That's why I left home." "It suffocated you... That must've been a difficult decision to take for you..." "Yeah..." "Sooo... Now you are a babysitter for the Faerie Kingdom's Princess." "Governess. I saw the world for a while and after that I grew a bit bored. I wanted something more stable so... teaching. It used to be my passion. But soon Kimmie will be engaged, married and then I'll move onto the next thing." "Well, if you need a place to crash. I can keep a cell warm in my dungeon for you." The both of them laughed. "Come let's stretch our wings." "Great idea!"

The two of them flew out of the castle into the night sky and passed by all sorts of folliage and creatures until Drakken dove into a large bramble.

They enjoyed the flight and most of all; each other's company. That was until Drakken noticed the Faerie Kingdom's army. "Uh-oh... I... forgot about that." "Urgh. Just-- Just wait here. I'll go talk to them. They might shoot you on sight." "Nothing I can't handle... But I might-- er... Go check on Princess Kimberly and Ronald. If you hear singing--" "I'll stall time." Shego took off "Wait!" "Hm?" "...Be careful. That's all."

Drakken got to the dungeon via it's secret entrance and found Ronald and Kimberly, holding each other in an embrace and outside of her cell. "AH GOOD! Great to see you are back to normal... Right?" Kimberly looked over, startled at first and then cringed, remembering everything she did. "Yup!SureAm!Let'sGoRon.HaveYouSeenMissGo?" "She's at the entrance. Come with me before things escalate any further." The three of them ran up the stairs. "Let me get this straight: You're a good guy now?" "I wouldn't necessarily say that, but in this case: sure." "What changed?" "What do you mean?" "Well you went from "I AM GOING TO TAKE OVER THE FAERIE KINGDOM!" to "I'm letting both of you go." What changed? Why don't you want to take it over anymore?" "I suppose that controlling others isn't truly what I want." "What do you want?" "... I think--" "Ron this is so not the time to become a therapist." Kimberly interjected as she pointed out the massive Faerie army with at the front General Barkin.

"For the last time General. I am NOT your ANYTHING." "But-- But Miss Go. What we have--" "Nothing. NO-THING." "That damned monster has brainwashed you hasn't he?! I heard the tales about him kidnapping Sugarplum for his selfish reasons!!" Drakken felt a surge of anger coming over him as he dove headfirst towards Barkin. "I AM NOT BRAINWASHING HER. IF SHE SAYS NO, THE ANSWER IS NO. DON'T YOU DARE TO DECIDE WHAT'S BEST FOR HER!!" The two fought, which gave a misunderstood 'signal' to their allies to charge into battle. Shego grabbed Kimberly and Ronald, moving them out of harms way before looking for Drakken and Barkin.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a faint blue shimer in the light of the sunrise. The Kobold King was backed into a corner and with General Barkin's sword at his throat, he admited defeat. "My Hero!" Shego squealed out in joy. "Miss Go! You've broken free from this despicable creature's spell!" Barkin practically tossed away his sword, spreading his arms to receive, what he thought was, a warm embrace from his green Faerie in distress; instead, he received a sucker punch that send him straight into the chasm mere meters away from her and Drakken. "That was terrifying." "You almost dying?" "Your acting." Drakken and Kimberly called off both of the armies. Telling the full story, though excluding some embarassing details for everyone's sake. The Faerie army retreated, turning around to head back towards the Faerie Kingdom, leaving the Kobold King, the Governess, Princess Kimberly and Ronald to part their ways.

"I'm glad that everything got resolved in the end. See Kim? We don't need a love potion!" "That reminds me, why did you want that love potion? Weren't you two already, well, you know... On the right track?" "Oh it wasn't for Kim! It was for mhmpfff--" Kim quickly covered Ron's mouth with her hand, turning beetred. "Kimmie..." Shego crossed her arms looking at the Princess. Kim sighed.

"I want to see the world. Just like you did! I don't want to marry some random guy just so I could rule the kingdom." "You are still young," Shego smiled and brushed Kimberly's redhair behind her ear, which reminded her of her own mother. "you can see the world in due time. You will marry once you're ready and I'm pretty sure you've already found your king." Ron choked on his spit hearing that, laughing nervously. "AHEM MAYBE- MAYBE IT'S TIME TO GO BACK?" his voice cracked. Both Kimberly and Shego laughed at the boy. "Yeah, let's. Kobold King, my apologies for all the troubles we have caused you." "Ah- well... it wasn't all that bad. If it weren't for you two sneaking in, I wouldn't have met--..." "..." "Yes?" "Yes?" "Met-- individuals, such as yourselves, to show me that things aren't all that bad and that love is, mayhaps, a beautiful thing." "...Am I the only one here that thought he was going to say Miss G--OOF!" "Ron!" "It was nice to have met you as well Kobalt. You aren't as bad as they say." "Heh.." "...Farewell." The three Faeries walked off, crossing the bridge. Leaving both the castle and the Kobold King behind. Drakken bit his lip. "...Actually" "Yes?" Shego turned around. "Feel free to visit whenever you like." "Oh. Okay." "Miss Go?" Kimberly had a small smile on her face, "I have learned a lot from you. Ever since I was little, I've seen you as my secondary mother. I'll be good on my own now, besides; I think you might have found your king as well." Shego felt a lump form in her throat as she listened to the Princess' words. She touched her cheek and felt warm tears on her fingers. "Stay out of trouble Princess. I know where to find you." "I'll try my best." Kimberly beamed and hugged her Governess one last time.

"What are you doing Drew?" the King's mother held her son's hand. "What I should've done with Amy: Letting go." "No, you should've told Amy about how you felt. But that's in the past. Now you tell her how you feel." The King turned around to see the green Faerie standing in front of him. Taken aback, he tried to step away but his mother blocked his path. "Tell her. Right. Now!" "Ahem... I-- Erm... it's..." "...Yes?" "I think I-- might, have... I have fal-- fall-- What I mean to say is I lo--" Shego placed her finger on his lips hushing him. "Maybe I should take it from here." she smiled. He hummed in agreement against her touch. That night along the border where magical flowers grew, the Kobold king and the green Faerie danced along to the spring dance's melody that was carried over by the wind. Flying above the Primroses that bloomed between light and shadow.

The end.

Hope you enjoyed reading all of this! :)

[rafeshit]

video!rafe x video!girl

warnings — MDNI voyeurism(?), m!masterbation, sneaky, comeshot, dubcon(?)

summary — rafe can’t keep his hands to himself on video call (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

—

you were sat in front of your laptop, checking yourself out on the screen as you waited for the call to connect. You were thousands of miles away from Kildare, in California, but the distance didn't feel so far when you were on video call with your best friend. Finally, the call connects and you see rafes handsome face appear on the screen.

"Hey, y/n." Rafe smiled, “I’ve missed you, hows life in Cali treatin’ you?" He asked, making you smile. Cali treated you well but all of that meant nothing since you didn’t have rafe with you.

"It's okay, I guess. Just missing you and the gang. Can't wait to get back to Kildare," you said, with a wink. You'd always been aware of the power you held over Rafe, and you couldn't help but tease him with it. you continued talking, telling him about how the internship was going.

Rafe's face turned serious as he listened to your voice. His eyes seemed to glaze over, and his pupils dilated ever so slightly. You knew that tone of voice that you put on, one that you'd perfected over the years, had a way of getting under Rafe's skin. He was always so submissive to your charms. You can see it in the way he’d lick his lips and stare at your mouth as you spoke.

"Sounds great, we've missed you too," Rafe said, his voice a little tighter than usual. "Can't wait to have you back." He leaned in, “so we can have some… fun.”

You knew what fun meant all too well, you both would fool around occasionally when you were in each others presence but you have always established that you were just friends. Best friends at that.

You thought for a second before responding, "Hopefully I’ll be back in a few weeks. Depends on how things go with my internship."

Rafe's grin returned, and he leaned in closer, "Well, when you do get back, I have something we could do in mind." His voice was low and suggestive. You raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and Rafe's eyes seemed to lock onto that movement.

"What is it?" you asked, knowing the answer. You knew that Rafe loved to tease you and you were happy to play along.

"Let's just say it involves us, a quiet night in, and maybe a few boundaries being broken."

"I'm listening…" you said, your voice still seductive, still teasing. You could sense Rafe's excitement building, and you knew that he was struggling to contain himself. Rafe chuckled, "I'll fill you in on the details when you get back. Trust me, it'll be fun."

You laughed, continuing to discuss how life was in California. Then the conversation leads to what you have planned for when you get back, going into detail about how rafe will be the first person you see…. And fuck. He tells you to go into detail about what will happen when he sees you and you don’t hold back telling him the explicit things that were on your mind.

You notice his hands fiddling with something out of the camera view, but you don’t question it, you continue talking, going into detail about every position, every move, every kiss you would delight him with.

Rafe is losing his fucking mind about the way your voice drops to a seductive whisper as your speaking. He’s been feeling the tent in his pants grow more and more by the way you talk, rubbing and touching himself through his jeans until he couldn’t take it anymore. He unzips his pants, gripping his dick with vice from under the table.

He moves his arm up and down ever so slightly in hopes of not alerting you. His eyes stayed glued to your lips and the way puckered out every time you said “fuck”. you mentioned how you’d fuck him in the car, in the country club golfing closet, in the bathroom of a restaurant and his imagination ran wild with those words.

His hands fisted his dick up and down, now going at a faster pace, not caring if you would notice it or not, to which you didn’t as you too got lost in your own imagination. He would let out soft groans and discrete cuss words that went unnoticed.

Now, he could feel his dick throbbing as he squeezed his dick as tight as he thought your cunt would grip it. He bites his lip to hold back a loud grunt as he’s reaching his high. The soft sound of his hands moving with a quick pace filled his room, fortunately it didn’t get picked up by the microphone attached to his computer.

He feels the band in his stomach snap and the cum beginning to rush to his tip, now he didn’t care if you would see him playing with himself as you spoke. With quick words he says, “fuckkk, stick your tongue out f’me.”

you pause your words, and furrow your brows, tilting your head to the side, “why?”

“just do it.” He grunts. You notice his hand moving with a quick pace up and down, you don’t question it as you stick your tongue out making an “aaa” sound, coming in closer to the camera.

suddenly he gets up from his chair and in view is his dick, to your surprise, he comes closer to the screen and jerks off vigorously painting his screen white, you are shocked at the sudden move but you continue to stick your tongue out as the screen turns to a pasty white.

“Fuckkk y/n.” he groans, milking every last drop. The moans die down and it is silent on his end for a few seconds until he wipes the screen clear, you pop your tongue back in your mouth with a smile, finally seeing his face back in the camera. “Damn rafe you couldn’t contain yourself could you?” You tease.

He chuckles, “yeah don’t cream your pants.” He says as he good-naturely rolls his eyes. “Your voice, your lips, your face was just too much f’me. I missed you so much.�� He says, tossing the tissue paper to the side and taking a seat.

“Don’t worry it won’t be long until I’m back, then we could do it all over again but in person.” You wink.

[buckyalpine]

Fic idea - Bucky’s family & time travel

You know how I keep proposing ideas, then adding it to my wips and then I stare at it while it stares at me. Heres another. I'm so sorry. Swear this will end in fluff, you'll just suffer in between. So imagine the most angstiest angst where Bucky gets married and has a child with his sweetheart before he’s sent to war. He's loved her his whole life and now they have a little one together; nothing could be more perfect. He promises he'll be back safe and sound with a kiss to her forehead and plenty of kisses for his baby girl.

Until Hydra captures him and turns him into the Winter Soldier. His first mission is to eliminate any familial ties. He doesn't feel anything when he pulls the trigger. He's successful and carries out hundreds of others kills, each searing itself in some part of his brain but he's constantly wiped before he can piece anything together.

But then he's rescued and he has to pick up the broken fragments of his memories and its too much of a fog for him to understand. At the very least he has his best friend by his side again and he's slowly starting to remember.

His first question is about his sweet y/n and his little girl.

His happiness is short-lived when Steve doesn't say anything. Bucky doesn't understand why he avoids his gaze, why he suddenly looks so distraught. No amount of pleading or begging works, his best friend doesn't breathe a word, asking Bucky to please let things be.

To learn to live with the way things were.

He can't do that though. He needs answers. When the team is away on a mission, he find a way to get into his records that SHIELD kept on him, wondering if they ever had anything on file about his life before he was captured. Every single detail about who he was before the war to after is written with details and camera footage.

He doesn't move from where he's seated, a blank expression on his face while everyone returns. Steve approaches Bucky first, worried about why the soldier looked so pale as if he'd aged 10 years in the past 3 days.

"I killed them?" His broken whisper of a voice breaks Steve's heart when he sees the file Bucky was looking at, a picture of him, his little girl on his shoulders and wife all smiling at the camera. The sheet he's clutching onto has their names along with deceased written write across the sheet.

Bucky is inconsolable.

His dreams are no longer about others he has killed. He's flooded with memories of her; the soft ivory dress she wore on their wedding day, the baby pink lace she had on when he undressed her that same night, the scent of her perfume, the sound of her laugh, the kicks of their baby, the sound of her happy squeals when he blew raspberries onto her chubby cheeks.

Those happy memories are quickly replaced with her pleading for him to remember. To just remember at least once.

Jamie, it's me, please, m'your y/n, Bucky, don't-

D-daddy?

Baby, go to your room-Bucky no-

Mama!

Please, not Bella, James, you love her baby, you love us- please remember me-

I-I love you

The pain of Bucky's cries are too much for anyone to handle. They're a different type of sadness. So much so, even Tony's starting to worry when he doesn't see Bucky for days on end. He begs to be put back in cyro, to have his memories wiped, to have his brain fried, anything to forget. He doesn't care about the pain, he just wants it all to end.

Imagine theres a mission that involves time travel. Steve and Sam stand on the platform, ready to enter the portal, setting their timers for a specific date in the past. When Sam catches Steve adding another date without telling him, he quietly adds it on his suit as well, piecing what the Captain plans on doing.

The mission takes a little longer than anticipated. Steve is surprised when Sam is beside him when he travels back to the 40's, the both of them now with a new mission in mind, alternating the future be damned. If they had a chance to give Bucky the life he deserved again, they would do it. Bucky doesn't ask for much. In fact he never asked for anything. He deserved this.

Imagine the shock everyone gets when the portal opens up at the compound and there are now 4 people on the platform. Steve, Sam, a woman and a little girl no older than 2. She's dressed in a simple dotted dress, still wearing an apron around her waist while her baby stays clinging around her, tucking her face into her mommas neck.

Imagine the way Bucky would collapse with her when he sees his family again, crying endlessly being able to hold his wife and child, something he thought he'd lost forever. Everyone gives the little family some privacy while he hugs and kisses them, cuddling them to his chest, still right on the lab floor. Explanations for everything can wait, right now he can't believe he has his angels back.

Imagine the way they'd fall asleep that night, sleeping in bed for once, now that he's reunited with his y/n and his Bella.

imagine the endless love he'd make to her while Bella spends time with her God Fathers, aka all the Avenger men.

Imagine she's pregnant soon after and they can continue being a family in the present, doing all the things they always dreamed of.

Anyway, just a thought.