#They're both finally unable to Move or Do Things | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laurorne · 3 months

Text

༊*·˚ CRAVING YOUR WARMTH | aegon ii targaryen x targaryen bastard sister!reader

summary: two dragons who seek to move closer for warmth during their grief must remain apart, as they can only hurt one another with their sharp teeth and barely contained flames. though they both share the intentions of a close relationship, they're unable, for reasons they cannot avoid.

content: targaryen incest, angst, allusion of self-mutilation/harm, bastardphobia in westeros, night after intimacy suggested, self-hatred, blood, wonky metaphors and personification, no beta we die like vizzy t, badly written angst, that damn necklace

word count: 1.5k

a/n: let me tell you that i struggle writing angst, but god do i love reading it. i'm like my own self entertaining paradoxical concept and it astounds me

A gentle hand smoothing over his back is what stirs him from the throes of sleep, nails skating along his marked skin softly enough to tickle. He shifts as the hand moves from the expanse of his back up to his hair, rubbing circles into the crown of his head. Twirling bits of hair between deft fingers as she presses a kiss to the slope of his shoulder.

He hums, limbs stretching out clumsily as he rolls onto his side, fingers weak as his hand dances along the goose-down duvet until it reaches her. Her, and her softness, and her warmth.

“Wife.” He’s barely awake, even with the exasperated sigh that comes from his older sister.

“We are not wed, Aegon.” A gentle reminder from soft lips, her eyes taking in his tired demeanour, the curve of his brow.

She brushes the strand of choppy hair from his face, thumb dragging along the apple of his cheek.

He doesn’t speak for a moment, lids finally fluttering open as he stares up at her with those watery eyes. The ones he knew made her weak to suggestion. He lets his hand creep up her calf –where he can still feel the divets of scars from their childhood running through the gardens– until it finds home on the hand she has in her lap, he threads his fingers with hers. The number of rings adorning her fingers was thanks to him: he and his obsession with keeping his older sister glamoured.

Imported Dornish rings that gleamed with the heat of the sun, Essosi ornate cloth and dresses that were far from the modesty of Court, hair pins adorned with pearls from the Summer Isles, and an intricate necklace crafted from the smelted metal of a Valyrian sword, inlaid with gemstones he had pulled from the Red Keeps vaults.

She was wearing it now, the stones gleaming under the sun that spotted through the lace curtains of her room. The engraved details scatter the few beams of light they catch like dew drops upon spider silk. The stones dangle between the valley her breasts create, the smallest of them twirls some intricate dance as she shifts. Like molten silver, it fits her without any of the stiffness metal should have.

“We should be.” He glances down at his hand intertwined with hers and watches her thumb rub over his —in the way she always has ever since childhood— it makes him all the more rueful.

He’s hopeful, far beyond it. His bones ache and his head throbs from a swelling hangover, and he feels his throat ache something terrible at its use. His eyes trail from their hands to her face, he wants anything aside from sorrow to be there.

It’s worse.

Her brows are furrowed as she stares down at him with pity, oh how he wishes it wasn’t pity.

“Oh, sweet boy.” She pulls her hand from his grasp and holds his face in her gentle hands with all the care he needs. “Some things, they just can’t be.”

His lip curls, a pathetic smile covering his visage as he cups the backs of her hands in his own. “But they could. Helaena would not care, she loathes our marriage. As do I. We could take Valyrian vows on Dragonstone. Just as our sister and uncle have. We could leave.”

“Aegon.” A wistful breath of his name, pained and twisted with grief of things that never were and never will.

“We don’t need to stay. Just you and I, riding atop Sunfyre. Across the Narrow Sea.” He moves onto his knees, staring into her wet doe-like eyes as he speaks. He doesn’t leave her an opportunity to doubt him. Doesn’t allow her to pull away as he keeps her hands on his jaw.

Her lips twitch and so do her fingers against his. “Aegon, don’t be foolish.”

“You mustn’t know what you mean to m-”

“Aegon, please.” She tries to pull away now, but he winds his hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and presses forward. Wine-stained lips crushing against the curve of her nose, fluttering across her brow like the gentle wings of a cotton moth as it devours silks and linen allied— devourer of all things beautiful and plain.

He drags his lips to hers finally, soaking her up in a way only someone as depraved as he could. It’s like stretching out upon a rock after not feeling the son for years, like stripping yourself of shackles you’ve worn since birth. Her lips are chapped, a split in her lips from all the worrying she does to the poor thing scratches along his upper. He surges forward, pulling her so fully against him that it fills some empty part of him, like a puzzle piece that’s never been slotted into place. But oh —how it has— and how it always disappears just as quickly as it comes to him. He licks at her bottom lip, sucks it into his mouth and shudders out a breath as she reciprocates. Her lashes fluttering against his cheeks as they finally shut, as she cups his neck and presses her butterfly kisses onto him, licks into his mouth as she breathes hotly across his face in a way only Aegon can enjoy.

He nips at her tongue accidentally, overexcited and eager as he is. And that seems to bring her back from whatever hole he had dragged her into. But he persists, hand drifting down to the smooth metal of her necklace as he thumbs at a jewel. He tries to savour her presence even as her face scrunches and her fingers fist the hairs behind his ears. It nearly pains Aegon, with the way his head tilts away from her just slightly, Adams apple jumping against pale skin as he stares oh-so adoringly, heady breaths stinking of wine fanning her bruised lips.

“We could start a family in Essos. As many children as you want.” He desperately reaches for her again.

“Aegon.”

“A home in Braavos, on the beach. Where we could lo-”

A hiccuped sob that withers in her throat is what stops him, punches the wind from his lungs.

Her lips are pursed and her hands have loosed upon his hair and move to cup his ruddy cheeks. Nails pressing into the flesh of his face hazardously. His eyes are dark and his lips part as he stares up at her, he sees the tears edging along her waterline. That deep frown she has when she’s trying not to cry, whether it's about something he had done or when she’s ordered by their Grandsire to stop her hysterics.

“Aegon,” It’s a sullen whisper as she lets his face go entirely, fingers slipping down his chest before they land in her lap again. “I am not a trueborn daughter. I will never be. I am not right in the mind. I will birth lunatics and monsters and wailing death. You can’t love me.”

He doesn’t know what to say, for once he has no sharp-tongued quip or comment. He pushed her from a height, just when she had finally reached the top of her spire. He retracts, fingers loosening from the grip he had on her pale hair, and lets her fall back onto the plush of her bed as she stares up at him like he’s burnt her. Like he’s dragged a dagger across the soft of her flesh and told her he never loved her. She pushes herself away, curling in on herself as tears cut through the flush of her cheeks. A wobbly exhale, and another as he drags a hand through her hair.

Her fingers dance down her neck and across the skin of her arms where they find home on the pale scars marring the upper parts of her arms. He can see her fingertips quivering with the urge to dig. To pull at chords of muscle beneath her skin and scratch at her bones. She had told him about things she saw. Things that hunted at the edge of her vision and scattered when she went looking. Dreams that came to the waking world with her. A pale man with the stench of darkness seeping from his pores.

“I love yo-” He leans forward to comfort her.

“You don’t.”

“I know that I love you.”

“You know nothing, Aegon.” She pulls herself to the edge of the bed and drags herself to stand, the silk bedsheets slip away and her goosebumps raise upon her bruise-marred skin, she’s as bare as the day she was born. Her throat is too tight and her necklace feels heavy as she stumbles to the secret passage, she slips from the room unbidden and leaves a smudge of blood on the wooden grain of the bookcase as Aegon sits in her bed. Salty tears of his own roll down his face as he clenches and unclenches his fists.

#house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen #hotd x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen angst #bastard!reader

469 notes · View notes

cy-cyborg · 1 year

Text

Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

#disability #disabled #id in alt text #writing #writing disability #disability representation #authors of tumblr #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing advice #writing disability with cy cyborg

3K notes · View notes

hannieehaee · 10 months

Text

18+ / mdi

content: minghao x virgin!reader, established relationship, afab reader, smut soft sex, fingering, penetrative sex, they're in love <//3

wc: 1943

a/n: he looked so soft and pretty with his hair like this aaahhh T^T i didnt proofread this btw but are we surprised

masterlist

he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

you were so soft and pretty. the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, really. in his eyes, you had no flaw. and you were all his. he still couldnt get over that fact.

he felt ashamed to admit it, but he'd been waiting for this since the moment he first laid eyes on you. he always thought you were the most beautiful girl in every room you walked into. your supple skin, the shape of your eyes, the brightness in your smile, the curves along your body; he was addicted to every part of you. and now he finally had you all to himself.

it had only been a few weeks since he finally made you his. he was a gentleman, so he courted you for a while, making his intentions clear but never pressuring you into a relationship. he let you know about his feelings for you early on, but wanted to be just be your friend for a bit before officially making you his. you'd lived in the limbo between friends but not quite lovers for a while. he enjoyed the buildup of your feelings. it had only made you want him more; and in turn it made his feelings for you grow even more than he thought possible. and now he found himself overwhelmed with how much he wanted you.

you'd taken it slow. having wanted each other for all those weeks but never really tying the metaphorical knot, you came into your relationship already thirsty for each other. but, once again, minghao was a gentleman. he wanted to give you space and not give into his desires immediately. he knew you were inexperienced, which was something he ashamedly relished on. however, it was even the more reason to allow you to grow used to him as your boyfriend before moving onto that much more intimate aspect of your relationship. he waited and waited (patiently), and now he was here. with an almost completely nude you under him, just waiting for him to take action.

you'd agreed on doing it today. not explicitly, but you'd nudged at each other, suggesting it wordlessly. today would be the day minghao rid you of your innocence. you both knew you were both growing impatient, which is why it wasnt surprising to either of you when tonight became this.

"hao ..." you breathed out, eyes becoming heavy as minghao softly kissed at your neck from his position above you.

he was taking it slow. he wanted to savour every moment of finally making you his in every sense of the word. he'd been slow at kissing you, preparing you for what was to come. he'd been slow at undressing you, still leaving your underwear on for him to take off later. he'd been slow at caressing your body, leaving goosebumps in his wake. and even now, he took it slow as he ground his hips against yours and softly kissed at your neck.

"patience, my love. want to take my time with you," he leaned up from your neck to look into your eyes, but unable to keep his eyes on yours for long as your lips called for him, making him have to connect his lips to yours yet again.

you kissed once more. more desperate this time than before he'd carried you off to his room. minghao didn't want to lose composure, but your adorable mewls at the feeling of his tongue licking at yours and his hips sensually canting against yours was slowly breaking his resolve. he began to kiss you deeper, harder, as his hips began digging even further into yours. he knew that if he tried to dig between your bodies, he'd find a puddle in between them. the thought made him light headed.

he couldn't hold himself back anymore, reaching towards that sacred space in the middle of your legs and softly dragging his fingers up and down. he took pleasure on the gasp you let out against his lips at such a light touch, wanting nothing more than to draw even more needy sounds out of you.

"want my fingers, angel?", he questioned against your lips.

you nodded hazily at him, no words leaving you as you simply whined and fidgeted against him, clearly in want for more.

he finally slipped his fingers past the soaked panties you had worn for him, - you'd worn such a pretty set for him; pink and lacy. pure and innocent, just like you.

he slowly snuck his fingers past the resistance of your folds and began to drag them in and out at a torturously slow pace. he adored your pretty gasps in surprise at the intrusion, unable to take his eyes off of you once again. your expression of pure bliss had him on a high, feeling himself grow even harder at just the beautiful sight in front of him. there was nothing more perfect than this moment, the moment in which he'd finally bring the love of his life to completion.

he increased the movement of his fingers inside you, making sure to curl them just right in order to draw even higher-pitched mewls out of you. his thumb had also joined the equation, rubbing itself on that pretty pearl that demanded stimulation. upon beginning to play with your clit, you'd begun to grind your hips against his hand, making minghao lose his mind. his pretty girl was seeking his touch. knowing he was giving you such pleasure was making him feel lightheaded, an animalistic desire growing in him to finally get you under him and impale you as you cried his name. but no. he was a gentleman. he wanted your first time to be soft and loving. he could corrupt you some other day, but today was all about showing you his feelings for you.

"h-haao ... fuck! please ..." your cries brought him back to earth. he felt the sudden tightness of your walls against his fingers, knowing you were about to reach completion. he began to speed up, now following a rapid rhythm that had you writhing on the bed.

"cum for me. cum, beautiful. wanna see my beautiful girl cry for me," he knew the effect his words would have for you. he'd always adored how much you wanted him. he'd known his feelings had been mutual since day one, seeing the way your pretty eyes would look at him with such adoration. his effect on you was something that drove him crazy day after day, and he was afraid that he'd soon grow addicted to the way you'd react if he ever used it against you while in the throes of passion.

it didn't take you long after that to cum on his fingers, even allowing him to play with your sensitive clit for a bit afterwards before whining at him that you felt too sensitive still. he'd have to train you to take him time and time again, he made a mental note to himself. but that would come later. now he needed you.

he adjusted you on the bed, letting your pretty head lean against some pillows as he hovered over you. leaning down a bit, he pecked your lips before smiling softly at you.

"are you ready, beautiful?", he began toying with your bra a bit, hinting at wanting it off of you.

"yes, hao. i trust you."

that was all he needed to lean down once more, kissing you with all the passion that had build up inside of him. he kissed and kissed you, allowing his hands to travel up and down your body, feeling every delicious curve and crevice adorning your body. once he made contact with your bra, he unglued his lips from yours for a moment in order to remove it, immediately letting his eyes lower to your bare chest.

"you're the most beautiful thing i've ever seen, angel. do you even realize how perfect you are?", he whispered the words against you, almost as if they were a secret. in the meantime he allowed his fingertips to softly run through your supple mounds, drawing circles around your nipples as you whimpered at him to touch them. he chuckled at this, enjoying how easy it was to rile you up.

"here, baby? want my hands here?", he pinched at your nipples, dragging his thumbs over them as you whined at the feeling.

he lowered his head down to eye level with your tits, looking up at you as he let his tongue kitten lick at your nipple, barely giving it any stimulation. he did this for a while, alternating between breasts as you whimpered at him. he then unglued himself from you, softly blowing at your nipples, the cold feeling making you gasp and cry.

"you're so unreal, angel. love how pretty you cry for me. will you cry more? when i finally make you mine?", he'd began to make his way back to you, cock now laying on your stomach as he whispered in your ear.

"yes. please, hao ... want it so bad."

"i'll give it to you, beautiful. i'll give you anything," it didn't take long after this for him to finally begin to push himself inside you, groaning against you at the feeling of your walls closing in on him. your cries for him weren't helping, only making him lightheaded at the feeling of you.

you'd began to scratch his back once he started moving against you, keeping a slow and sensual pace that was rhythmic enough to have your eyes rolling back. looking at you, he had no idea how he resisted you for this long. he regretted not having taken you to bed since the moment he'd met you. but that thought only lasted a few seconds, until he heard you breathlessly gasp his name again after a particularly harsh thrust.

"do you know how hard it was to resist you? to hold you and not be able to have you? you tempted me day after day, making me lose my mind. you're pure torture. but now you're mine. aren't you, angel?", he rambled as he sped up, already seeing his end coming.

"h-hao! please! nee-need you to make me cum. fuck ..." he could see tears begin to form in your eyes. it drew an animalistic side out of him. a pit in his stomach forming at the thought of you sobbing and crying over his cock. this was enough to make him push your legs into your chest and speed up, wanting nothing more than to demand another orgasm out of you.

you came almost at the same time. you a few moments before him, with your rightness forcing an intense orgasm out of you as he groaned your name in your ear.

he was gentle and caring as he cleaned you up, even helping you up so you could use the restroom before promptly walking you back to bed, dreading even a minute of separation from you. he laid you down, cocooning you in his soft sheets before rounding the bed and laying down next to you. the way you immediately nuzzled into his arms had his heart pumping out of his chest. he was feeling endearment overload. everything you did had an effect on him.

"hao?"

"yes, my love?", he looked down at you, running his hands softly up and down your bare back, pressing you even closer to his chest.

"i love you," it wasnt the first time you'd said it, but it had felt different now. like you were giving your body and soul to him.

"i love you more."

1K notes · View notes

cringe-but-proud · 23 days

Note

Sorry to bother you, but I saw your asks/requests were open, and saw that you write for Gambit, I read through your works and love how you write him! I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to do a drabble/ficlet with Gambit x reader? Where reader has ADHD and anxiety? Her mutant power is Empathy, but she only feels other's emotions; can't tell why they're feeling them, and the combo kinda makes her a people pleaser type who struggles to say no to things, so ends up with extra work from other people all the time, kinda burning the candle at both ends until she basically has a mental/physical breakdown? I just really wanna see Gambit being super loving/protective.

If you don't want to/it isn't in your wheelhouse, by all means just ignore me, sorry again to bother you! Have a great day/night!

We love a Gambit request 😋

Remy LeBeau x fem!mutant!Reader

Warnings: reader cries and also blames herself for all of her problems 😗✌️

A/n: Man, idk what to put here sometimes, y’all. Reader has a regular job (not an X-Man or anything). And uhh, um, erm requests are open 👍

This whole mess was your fault. All of it. All of the piled up work, and the deadlines you just knew you wouldn’t be able to meet, and the dread over knowing people would be disappointed in you, and your infuriating inability to say no; it was all your fault.

It was days like these when you wished you could get rid of your mutation. That way you might not be such a damn pushover. But, you couldn’t help it. People from work come into the office feeling a little down, and suddenly you’re offering to go get them a coffee, to make some copies for them, to sort out some files, and finish that research project they’ve been putting off. And in the moment, you can feel the happiness and relief radiating from them, and it makes you feel good. But, then you realize (too late) that it’s too much for you to get done in one workday.

Which led you to your current predicament. You were trying to get all of this work (which wasn’t even technically yours) done, but you also needed to get some work around the house done, and your mind couldn’t focus on one task at a time.

You reread the same paragraph for what felt like the eighteenth time, hardly making it past the second sentence before you had to begin rereading it again after your mind had wandered to your laundry that still needed cleaning.

And just when you’d gotten yourself to focus again, there were three knocks at your door. You groaned, letting your head fall to your hands for a moment before you got up and dragged yourself to the door. You looked through the peephole and saw your boyfriend Remy. He was all put together in a nice suit and tie, severely contrasting you in your pajamas with your hair a mess and makeup completely wiped away.

Your stomach sank and you completely froze. You’d forgotten. You’d gotten so caught up in wanting to please other people, that you’d forgotten about tonight.

You just stood at the door, unable to move as your heart began to pound and your throat began to feel tight. Remy knocked again, this time calling your name. You finally opened the door with shaky hands and almost immediately began to sob.

“Woah, woah!” Remy reached out and held you by your shoulders, his hold gentle yet steadying. “What’s wrong chère?”

“I-“ You choked out. “I forgot, Remy. I forgot about tonight.”

Remy had made reservations for the two of you at a fancy restaurant, one you’d been wanting to go to for a while. And you’d forgotten. He’d gotten dressed up all nice for you and it was for nothing, and you, like always, were to blame.

You continued to cry pathetically while Remy guided you over to sit on your couch. “Talk to me, chère.” He said as he gently took your hands.

“I-I forgot-“

“Gambit don’t care about that.” You let your head fall forward onto his shoulder where you continued to sob. “There’s something else, huh?” It was more of a statement than a question.

Sometimes you felt like he had some of your empath abilities as well, or at least some form of mind reading. He could always tell when something was wrong, or when someone was lying. Or maybe it was just with you. Either way, when he suggested that there was something else bothering you, you nodded against him.

“You wanna tell Gambit?”

You inhaled shakily before speaking again. “There’s just…. It’s so much- too much going on— Too much on my plate.” You said, struggling to find the words through your choked sobs and jumbled thoughts.

Remy hummed. This wouldn’t be the first time that you overwhelmed yourself with tasks and work that needed to be done. “Like what?” He asked. And he listened while you listed off all of the things at work that were bugging you and then all of the chores at home that only added to your stress, all the while he soothingly rubbed your back. And once you were finally done, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Your tears had come to a small occasional trickle rather than what felt like a flood a few moments ago.

“Tell you what,” Remy said as he began to pull away. “You rest here while Gambit helps.”

“What?” You asked as he put a blanket over you.

“Lay down. Gambit gonna get some of this outta your way, alright?”

You hardly had the energy to protest, and as you drifted to sleep, you could hear the soft whirring of your washing machine as Remy began doing your laundry for you.

You woke up an hour or two later to the smell cooking, and sat up to see Remy standing in your kitchen over the stove. You groggily got to your feet and walked over to him, hooking your chin over his shoulder to get a look at what he was cooking.

“You get good rest?” Remy asked as he stirred a pot.

“Yeah.” You mumbled back. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, belle?”

“For making you deal with this, with me.” You replied, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

Remy turned his head to the side to press a warm kiss to the side of your head. He hummed softly. “You know Gambit ain’t never gonna mind having to deal with you.”

“You mean it?” You asked, a soft smile on your lips.

“You know I do.”

And he was right. In that moment, standing with your chest pressed to his back and your arms around his waist, you were practically drowning in the love and care you could feel radiating off of him. And you knew that he meant it.

#fanfiction #x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #remy lebeau x reader #remy lebeau fanfiction #gambit x reader #gambit fanfiction #x men x reader #x men fanfic #x men fanfiction

208 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 10 months

Note

Congrats on the 500! I'd like to see prompt 14 with Ghost and Soap but it's the reader dealing out the punishment.

Thanks mate :D My inner kinkster came out and this got waaaayyy longer than I expected it to be, hope ya'll like it :D. Play the game HERE:

Prompt: "I’m in a good mood today, you may choose your punishment this time but only if you ask for it politely."

CW:NSFW, puppy play, puppy Simon and Soap, GN reader, bondage, spanking, overstimulation, BDSM, orgasm denial, numerous orgasms, Dom/Sub dynamic, my inner kinkster came out.

Johnny pants against his lips as they thrust both of their cocks into the fleshlight between them, slick lube and precum wetly 'squelch' inside the silicone hole when Johnny bucks his hips, gripping Ghost like a lifeline. Ghost can't believe he let Soap coerce him like this— to go into your shared bedroom to steal the fleshlight you use to reward them and fuck it when you've given them a direct order not to cum without you.

But with all of you so busy the frustration had been steadily building in their bones for weeks now and it wasn't like you'd ever find you; they'd be quick about it, just a quick rut and then clean up like they had never been there — That's how Johnny had justified it, whimpering so sweetly against Simon's ear as he grinded against Ghost's leg.

"Yeah, fock, just like that Si," Johnny groans at the tightness both of their cocks make of the fleshlight, shivers racing down his spine as Simon presses him further against the wall. "C'mon, clo-I'm close-"

"Johnny, actin' like a desperate slut there." Ghost growls and bites Soap's shoulder, cock throbbing at the way his words make Johnny moan, the fleshlight getting slicker from Soap's precum.

The sound of the door opening rings like an executioner's gavel. Simon yanks the toy off their cocks the moment his brain registers the sound. "Simon! Oh you focker-" He slaps a hand over Johnny's mouth before he can make things worse, the rough move finally drawing Johnny's attention to you. Slut, Simon want's to call him when Johnny's cock twitches upon meeting your gaze, no doubt burning even hotter from being caught.

Simon knows they're in deep shit when, upon finding them fucking a toy pussy like mongrel mutts, all you do is smirk. "Well look at you two." You hum, eyes momentarily flickering to the used toy Simon had flung across the room. "I'm in a good mood today," Walking up to them and scruffing them both gently. Too gently. "You may choose your punishment this time, but only if you ask nicely."

Dumb little Soap perks up at your words, unable to notice the dark look in your eyes when all of his blood is rushing south into his throbbing cock. The fucker bites Ghost's fingers and the moment Simon jerks back from surprise Soap's on his knees, nuzzling his head into your groin. "Please bonnie-" He breathes out, sticking out his bottom lip and forcing watery tears to prickle the corners of his eyes. "-need tae cum, please, want tea cum so bad." Soap's clever, knows how to make himself look so pathetic you can't help but indulge the little glutton; but not clever enough.

You card your fingers through his short mohawk, a soft smile tugging on your lips as his cock bobs uselessly against your boot. "My little puppy wants to cum for his punishment huh?" Soap nods his head frantically, melting against your leg as he thinks he's won you over; think's he's escaped your wrath; thinks he's safe.

Ghost knows better, sees the mischievous look in your eyes. "And you?" You ask him, choosing to ignore Soap when he starts grinding his cock against your boot, "How do you want to be punished?" Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, letting him know it's not a question he has time to ponder.

Numerous punishments run through his mind, all bound to leave him pleasantly aching for days, but he choses the one most likely to give him a release- "Spanking."

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline and even Soap stops his grinding to look at him, muttering a smug 'blimey dumbarse' under his breath. "Is that so?" You ask, your tone reminding him of your previous words.

"Please," He manages to say, biting on his bottom lip. "I've been bad, need to be punished." A shiver races down his spine in the way your eyes light up, something foreboding gnawing on his bones as you ruffle his hair.

"If you say so," You glance between both of them. "On the bed then, clothes off." You say, stepping away to go grab their toys, expecting them to comply.

Soap still thinks he's safe, eagerly stripping bare without a care, whining and tugging Simon's clothes off when he feels like Ghost is going too slow. But a bad and hot feeling stirs in Simon's stomach when he catches sight of what you bring back; rope, collars, a puppy mask, plugs, a paddle and the toy they both hate- the vibrating cock ring and plug combo that can edge them for hours without letting them cum.

"Since you're the one who brought Simon down to your level, you don't get to talk tonight." You growl as you fasten the collar and puppy mask on Soap's face, the muzzle turning him mute as the matching pink collars humiliate them both wonderfully. Before Soap can even begin to struggle upon seeing the hated toy you quickly tie him up, hands above his head and legs spread with his knees near his chest.

"Shhh-" You shush Soap as you push a lubed finger into him, more to get his hole slick than to stretch him out. "-you're the one who wanted this puppy," Soap growls pitifully when you replace your finger with the plug; it's slender and long, not even as thick as your finger, but the curve in it's neck forces the bulbous head to press against his prostate. "And don't you worry, you'll be cumming until you can't." The dark promise in your words has Soap squirming, the way you harshly put the cock ring on him making Soap squirm and yip as if that'll be enough to change your mind.

"Now as for you-" You're a little softer with Ghost, gentle but firm hands spreading him on his belly so his head's resting between Soap's thighs, so close to Johnny's cock he could kiss the red tip. "For every 10 spanks Johnny will get to cum," Your lubed fingers breaching Simon's ass makes him groan, his walls clamping on your fingers and a bead of precum seeping into the sheets against his cock every time your fingers press massage over his prostate. "You aren't allowed to cum." Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, whole body shuddering and nodding his head as you push a second finger inside him to squeeze the special spot inside him between two fingers; he's already used to this trick, knows how to tense his leg to stave off orgasm.

"If you can reach 60 spanks without cuming, I'll let you fuck him." You add, removing your fingers to push the broad head of a tail plug against his pulsing rim. It's not the vibrating kind, thank god, but Soap watches transfixed how Ghost's mouth opens in a silent moan as his his walls are forced to stretch around the large insertion. "Fail, or let Johnny cum without getting your spanks in, and your cock's joining Johnnie's in a cage for a few weeks." The plug, thankfully, doesn't press right on his prostate like Soap's, but the playful swat you give his rump has a strangled moan falling from his lips as the head of the plug bashing against that special spot inside him. "Am I understood?"

"Crystal." Ghost breathes out, his eyes already getting bleary. He can see your reflection in Soap's eyes, knows when you pick up the paddle by the way Johnny's dick twitches against his face. The sudden smack against the fat of his arse has him wheezing out a "One-" his cheeks jiggling from the force, the skin reddening soon after.

Just watching you spank Simon has Johnny's cock leaking, every number moaned in Simon's rough voice making his cock throb. The way Ghost's eyes close when a new smack of the paddle has that large plug brushing against his prostate makes Soap clench pitifully around the inactive plug inside him, wanting something bigger. The dead toys inside and around Soap's cock come to life the second Simon growls out a "Ten.", causing Soap to moan.

You push Simon's gasping mouth down on Soap's cock, putting the paddle down to firmly grope his reddening cheeks as encouragement. They're both such masochists that it works like a charm, a sharp pinch of his ass getting Simon to messily suck and slurp down his dick while Johnny whines and trembles, assaulted with sensation until he cums inside Simon's mouth with a loud whine. Simon swallows down it all without complaint, barely fast enough to pop off Johnny's cock to croak out an "Eleven-" when the paddle spanks his flesh again.

Johnny whines, thighs trembling pitifully as he realizes the vibrations don't stop after his orgasm. Simon notices the way Johnny's whines grow soft again, the Scott tumbling towards orgasm faster than the leisurely pace you're spanking Ghost with. Without thinking he reaches out to grab the base of his cock with a firm grip, his fist like a secondary cock ring, Ghost's hand keeping Johnny's hips pinned until you smack his rear again-"Twenty!"- and Soap cums the second his fist eases, splashing his sweaty chest with his cum.

You look up to see Soap's cheeks stained with tears, chest rising and falling rapidly with disformed hiccups as the toys just continue to vibrate on max. Simon's skin is also starting to from bright to dark red in some places, the force behind each slap ensuring he'll be able to feel this punishment for weeks.

Soap's shaking his head desperately by the time Simon grounds out "Thirty-" and it takes a few sharp pinches to his aching rear to get Ghost's mouth back on Johnny's cock, but even half blissed out as he is he knows how to make Soap cum, running his teeth along the oversensitive vein along the bottom of his cock and nibbling a bit on his swollen balls enough to force him into another orgasm.

At "Fo-forty!" there's a growing damp spot of pre beneath Simon as he tries desperately to keep his cock from brushing against the sheets. "Fuck...Fifty-" Comes soon after and both of them are so fucked out that Soap can only manage a weak spurt of cum, whole cock as red as Simon's rear.

"You two are doing so well," You praise, tracing the rapidly blooming bruises from the swell of Simon's arse to the middle of his thighs, purposely tugging on his tail to have him moan around Johnny's length, his cock weakly spurting a small dollop of precum onto the sheets as the wide head of the plug grinds against his prostate. "Just, one more, you can do it."

You wait for a few seconds after Soap cums again for Simon to settle against his legs, his body so worn out by the constant abuse on his prostate that he doesn't even notice when he nuzzles into Soap's aching cock. Only then do you strike again, abstaining from the paddle to smack the reddening flesh with the flat of your hand just so you can grope his cheek, making the plug insistently shift inside him.

"Fifty- shit, Fifty one..." Simon slurs like he's drunk, both of them long past tears. You draw out the last 9 slaps, groping and pinching his aching skin and loving how Simon groans and drools against Soap's cock. "Sixty, ah! Sixty!" Simon howls with the final slap, whole body feeling like it's ready to fall apart, his brain desperately clinging to his skull when the rest of him is ready to leak through his dick. There's a painful cramp in his stomach from having to hold off so long, having long since replaced the jealousy he'd felt at having Soap cum again and again while he's kept on the edge of a knife.

"Such a good boy Simon," You coo softly, even a gentle rub of his flesh causing him to hiss and attempt to wiggle away from your hand. You catch his eye as he stares back at you, Soap's cum staining his hair as his cock rests against Simon's face.

Soap can barely lift his head to look at you, eyes blurry as he tries to convey that he can't cum any more, his cock throbbing from the constant stimulation. When you turn off the vibrators he swears he'd cry tears of joy if there was anything left in him, body so lax he feels like a puddle.

Then you sneak a hand down to feel Simon's dick, still achingly hard , chuckling when Simon groans and bites down weakly on Soap's thigh. "How about it boy? Ready for your reward?" You laugh as your words make both of them twitch, Soap's hole clenching needily on the slim neck of the plug as the thought of having something thick spread him open cuts through the fog of overstimulation and exhaustion like a knife.

You smirk for Johnny and easily slide the vibrating plug out of him, receiving a whine from Johnny like he's hurt. You shush them gently, having to support Simon as you reposition his cockhead against Soap's twitching hole.

"Go on then, good boy," You chuckle, "Take your reward Simon,"

653 notes · View notes

guccifrog · 8 months

Text

WRONG NUMBER P13

matt sturniolo x f!reader

y/n's pov ☆

It has been exactly five hours since they discovered the mix-up. Chris, Jimmy, and Marylou decided to go check the police station to see if they could find any updates about Matt.

Me and Nick decided to go on a little drive in my car to clear our heads. As we were driving, I could feel the tension in the air. Nick kept looking out the window, lost in his thoughts, while I tried to think of something to say to make him feel better.

"Hey, you know, at least there is still a chance that this is some sort of mistake, right?" I said to Nick, trying to sound more optimistic than I felt. "They're working on finding Matt and getting this sorted out. We just need to have faith in them."

He looked over at me, his eyes red from crying. "Yeah, you're right," he said, his voice barely audible.

We drove around for a while longer, neither of us saying much. The silence was almost painful, but neither of us knew what to say to make it better. Finally, Nick spoke up, breaking the silence. "I keep thinking about that guy on the bed. How his family must feel right now. It's just…unbelievable."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The image of that man, so peaceful in his sleep, haunted me. I couldn't imagine the pain his family must be going through, thinking he was gone when he was really just a victim of this horrible mistake.

"Do you think he was rich though?" I asked smirking slightly "Like, really rich? Cause he looked pretty comfortable to me. I mean, that bed was like a fucking cloud." Nick chuckled a little, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"I'm just saying, maybe after this mess is done, I'll go ask him to be my sugar daddy if he's still alive" I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"stop oh my god," Nick said giggling "What? your girl needs a little money to feel better" I said with a smirk. "You know, if he was rich, I bet he'd be more than willing to help a girl out." I glanced over at Nick, trying to gauge his reaction. He was smiling, I grinned satisfied that I'd managed to make him laugh.

We drove in silence for a few more minutes before Nick decided to break the silence again " I'm so mad we met in these fucked up circumstances, you know?" I smiled softly at him " Well at least we met, right? I mean, even if it's under these horrible conditions. Maybe one day we'll look back at this and laugh about it." He snorted a little "So real girl "

We decide to grab some coffee from Starbucks to clear our heads. As we sit there, talking about random things or scrolling through our phones, I take a sip of my coffee, burning the roof of my mouth. "Ouch, damn it's hot," I complain, blowing on the coffee.

Nick suddenly shoots up from his seat, staring at his phone with wide eyes "Oh my god" he says. "what? What is it?!" I ask him, my heart racing.

He looks at me with his mouth agape, trying to find the right words. " It's Matt…they found Matt!!" he exclaims, his voice cracking.

I feel my whole body go limp with relief. "They found him at a different hospital !" He hugs me tightly, tears streaming down his face. I'm crying too, unable to contain my happiness. We sit there in the Starbucks, surrounded by the noise and chaos, but for a brief moment, nothing else matters but the fact that Matt is alive.

"Do you know what hospital?" I manage to ask between sobs, clinging to Nick.

"Chris sent me the address, let's go," He says, already halfway out of the seat. I follow him, feeling a mixture of excitement and fear as we both know what we're about to face.

The drive seems to take forever, but eventually, we pull up to the hospital and spot Jimmy's car in the parking lot. Our feet are moving before we even have the chance to think, hurrying into the building.

We find Chris and Marylou in the waiting room, looking just as relieved as we feel. They jump up when they see us, and we embrace tightly, not wanting to let go.

It feels like we're all holding our breath, waiting for the moment when we can see Matt again. The nurse finally calls our names, and we follow her down the hallway.

Our steps slow as we approach the door, our hearts racing. The nurse pushes it open, revealingn none other than Matt lying in the bed.

He looks tired and pale. We all rush forward, surrounding his bed.

"Hey buddy, you're gonna be okay," Chris says, squeezing his hand. The nurse cleared her throat making us turn to look at her.

"The good news is that he's alive," the nurse started. "He's still unconscious, but he's stable for now. He'll probably be unconscious for a few days but don't worry he'll wake up" She paused for a moment

" However, he suffered severe injuries, There is a chance that he may never regain full cognitive function or the ability to walk."

The words hang in the air, heavy.

"come again?" Chris said, his eyes wide with shock.

"Oh God," I whisper, smacking my hand over my mouth. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. Can't we just have one good thing today?

"you're joking right?" Nick asks, his voice cracking. The nurse rolled her eyes before shaking her head no. The fuck is this bitch rolling her eyes for?

taglist ☆

@mattestrella @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athaliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen @that-general-simp @swangelss @familynotfandom @fuckshitslover @styles-sturniolo @lvr-111 @opheliaofficial07 @kiarastromboli @hearts4chriss

308 notes · View notes

halemerry · 1 year

Text

Okay so I wanna take a moment to talk about gravity. Now I know what this sounds like, but bare with me here I promise I'm not looking to do a physics lecture. But I've been rotating this around in my head for a couple days now and I think there's something really critical in the way the show presents it to us.

For example: it's one of the few things actually listed in our introduction to this show individually while our protagonists build the universe, right between matter and everything else.

The show draws our attention to it here fairly bluntly by naming it but there are other incidents that, while I would not call them subtle, are not quite as on the nose.

There are at least three times Crowley chucks something he's holding in his hands across the room. They're played for comedic bits but they all feel very weird and pointed to me - especially both times he does this to books that he seems to have no purpose for holding other than to chuck them later. It caught my attention mostly because everything in me recoiled at the idea of him doing that, but the more I thought about the way they're so visible and pointed was important. They almost feel like weird hiccups in the scene they're in.

We also get gravity as an implied threat with Gabriel climbing out the window and, of course, with every mention of a Fall. But there's also more mundane uses of gravity in the season that while not odd in isolation, the fact we get it popping up so notably is interesting to me. There's also the scene with Nina and Maggie under the awning where rainwater's weight gets pulled down by gravity, the scene in 1941 where Aziraphale drops the picture of them onto the floor before they have their gray area talk, Gabriel dropping the matchbox, and I'm sure there's more. The point is the show is littered with reminders that gravity exists.

Now I know what this sounds like. I know it seems like yeah. Duh. They're on earth. Which has gravity. Of course gravity is a factor in nearly every physical action they do. Why are you even talking about this at all?

Well, it's because of a scene that is one of my absolute favorites in the whole season: the Gravity Lesson.

The scene opens with Jim throwing a book (My Best Games of Chess, an interesting title that feels pointed) repetitively at a desk. He's testing gravity himself, looking confused.

Crowley then descends from the upper level, carrying a stack of books. He pauses his descent on the spiral staircase and notes what Jim is doing.

Then we get this shot. Notice the light here. Jim is in the light from the windows but relatively in the middle of the shot. He's an angel still, though not nearly as in the Light as he was as Gabriel. And he's notably at ground level, on earth. Meanwhile Crowley blends into the shadows of the shop itself. He continues down the staircase, sauntering vaguely downward, until he finally hits earth level to be even with Jim. There's symbolism here, in the lighting, in the way they move through these frames, in the way the staircase spirals like an orbit.

Crowley continues this same sweeping circular pattern to come around the bookshop and place him in front of Jim. Unable to resist a question, even one that wasn't asked out loud, Crowley tells him about gravity. He moves center toward Jim here. A meeting in the middle. This is the first scene we see Crowley interact with Jim in a way anything near amicable. He explains how gravity works. "It's, um... A thing that happens when objects are pulled together. In this case, they're all pulled downwards because Earth is the largest thing around."

As he speaks, Crowley moves away from Jim, toward the back of the bookshop. But he stops very rapidly because Jim goes and asks him why. Crowley frowns to himself. He says he can't remember. He says it seemed like a good idea when they were all talking about it.

He walks back to Jim, giving this question some real thought, and settles on, "So things would stay where you put them, not just drift off." And Jim, backlit by the windows still, kind of frowns and drops the book again and points out. "But it doesn't stay where I put them. It goes down."

When the book hits the table it also visibly does not land precisely over where Jim dropped it either. It settles out of place, bouncing slightly from the force of it. This is what drew my attention to this scene more than anything else.

Because it's interesting isn't it? They're both right in their assessment here. And so much of this story is about people not fitting quite where they're dropped. Aziraphale and Crowley are both caught in Earth's gravity, jostled out of their respective places. The very first shot in the intro sequence emphasizes this idea. Crowley and Aziraphale meet in the middle on earth (where Crowley then says let there be light and lights a flame to guide them going forward).

Gabriel and Beez too fall out of line as soon as they get caught in Earth's gravity. Memories are deleted, but can't entirely escape the gravity of their old home. Memories are added, but you can't predict exactly the way they'll form. Miracles backfire and don't land quite as they're expected. We obey Heaven or Hell as far as we can, but not necessarily exactly as they'd like. These shifts eventually become predictable and eventually we learn we can calculate the odds of how gravity can impact something, but as Jim shows us here a little bit of the drift still happens. In the end it's all just firing bullets at ears and pretend to catch them in our teeth.

And there's viewing this line of thinking from the perspective of God. God who functionally dropped the universe into the gravity of Fate and Choice just to see where it would land.

And then there's the Fly.

As Jim points out here, some things actively resist gravity, at least temporarily. Flies go up. This is very fun, given Beelzebub's arc this season, but I think it's getting at more than just that. Crowley and Jim both pause to watch the fly rise upward, drifting away from Jim and toward the dark half of the shop. Crowley says Jim makes a good point and then shifts into "Right, the plan, Operation: Lovebird."

Given the plot of season 1, I find the use of the word plan here pretty interesting. Especially given that the event that follows this is Crowley trying and failing to get Nina and Maggie to recreate his own meet cute. Like the idea of these two being drawn together will fix everything.

And that got me thinking about Crowley's line at the end of season 1. About what if God planned it that way. What if they're God's own Operation Lovebird. We know that together they can do very powerful things. This whole season starts with them, while trying to keep their power under control and contained, do a miracle so big it could've brought someone back from the dead nearly 25 times. Last season ends with Heaven and Hell thinking they've become something impossible. The Metatron here goes out of his way to separate the two of them like he's afraid of what they're capable of together. And he seems to have successfully managed to do this.

But a Fly can't stay in the air forever. The Fly is always drawn back to Jim. Because not all gravity is about Earth itself. The same way Gabriel's memories are drawn back to him. The same way Beelzebub and Gabriel are drawn to each other in the first place. The same way Aziraphale and Crowley have been described time and time again as drawn in by each other. They're Alpha Centauri. Twin stars orbiting each other. They're constantly going in circles around each other. It's a dance. With the hands touching in the middle. Because that is a gravity too. They complete each other the same way the Fly completes Jim.

So what about choice? Think about the Ball episode. Think about how everyone in the shop is being influenced by some sort of miracle. Their clothes and behavior shift and change and Nina in particular shows us that this is Noticeable. Forcing something in a gravity it doesn't like or want makes it have a hard time settling. It doesn't go quite where you drop it.

And then there's the chat Nina and Maggie have with Crowley. "We're not a game. We're real people," says Maggie. And Crowley tries to argue this saying that they both needed help and they both push back that it is still not his right to meddle with. A game. Like the title My Best Games of Chess. Like the thing we know God has been using as a framing device since season 1. A thing the narrative always has pushed as a bad thing.

Maggie and Nina are choosing to not let beings above them influence their choices. They actively resist being compelled by Aziraphale in the bookshop together because they know what's right. His gravity is not enough to overwhelm their choices. And at the end maybe they're not together but they're working on it. And, maybe, if they do come back together (when they do, according to Maggie) it will be when they are ready and when they are choosing each their free of the constraints of the game or higher power. And that gives me hope that's where we're headed for the Ineffables as well.

#good omens #good omens spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #Crowley #Aziraphale #Gabriel #Beelzebub #Maggie #Nina #gravity #I'm going sicko mode and I am Thriving

947 notes · View notes

heretherebedork · 1 year

Text

I am thinking a lot about how Ai Di is wearing a collar and a chain and a rainbow sweater while he declares his love for Chenyi and acts on his love in a moment that he knows is wrong but also believes is the end to everything they've ever had because his true final act of love is to leave. His final act of love is to leave Chenyi behind after doing something unforgivable.

(The embrace, the colors around them and on their skin, etched into them, becoming part of them. That Ai Di is still wearing red pants in this scene and then wearing red pants when he gets out of prison and it's the same thing, it's chaos and brilliance and love and knowing that he cannot have what he wants or wishes and then he cries onto Chenyi and it's only when he cries that Chenyi comes to life because he is crying for both of them and for what he's doing and for the future he can never have and for their brotherhood that he feels he's betrayed for his love.)

Still in rainbows. Still in his collar and his chain. And now he's giving up his life for the sake of letting Chenyi be free, of giving him freedom and of knowing that what he did when he was drunk was wrong.

It's a repayment that means it's all over, this is the end for Ai Di because he cannot forgive himself and he cannot get over his love and he can never, ever ask Chenyi to forgive him for what he did and so he is going to renounce every single bit of it, he's doing to let go of every single thing that shaped him and become whoever he is meant to be without that.

Ai Di loves Chenyi and believes that Chenyi could never love him back except as brothers and so he cannot do anything except try to give up. Try to move on. And he expects Chenyi to do the same thing. He expects Chenyi to say good riddance to him.

But isntead Chenyi shows up to take him back and doesn't take no for an answered, doesn't stop, just grabs him and picks him up again and again and takes him away with him because for Chenyi he's had four years to wonder and four years to change and four years of wanting to understand.

So much black and Ai Di is a brilliant pop of color in the middle. He is always the pop of color in the darkness and even in the sunlight he stands out so much, so bright and brilliant and present.

(Chenyi wants to know so much and cannot let go and he loves Ai Di but now he has to convince him to come back to him because they've each had four years to consider the future and make choices and they made very different choices.)

Chenyi made Ai Di bright and spicy food, all the colors and all the heat because he needs to know but also because he loves. Chenyi has missed his bright colors and everything Ai Di brings to his life.

(Ai Di assumes every question Chenyi asks is about sex but I think, frankly, Chenyi is asking more about why he left than why they fucked. Because he has spent four years worrying and missing and loving and he doesn't want to keep doing that. He wants to know why Ai Di did that and then left him.

Because Ai Di was never supposed to leave him.)

The shock on his face when Ai Di mentioned the idea of revenge, like it never even crossed his mind? Because it probably never did.

Ai Di went to prison but he want to go take care of Zongyi and look out for his friend. But Chenyi stayed on the outside and he realized that he wasn't in love with the man he thought he was, that he loved the one person who had left him, the one person who left him after he said he never would.

(Tiny note, the red on his shirt is over his stomach and the first thing he does is try to win Ai Di's heart through his stomach and @respectthepetty I am thinking far, far too deeply.)

Bright lights and lots of color all around them but, in this shot, they're both in black and the light barely touches them. The light is pure white and brilliant and it's blinding. They're trapped in that light, too seen and yet unable to see.

Chenyi is trying so hard not to let go, to keep Ai Di, to give him every excuse in the book to stay and I think that if Ai Di just stopped trying to leave Chenyi would accept anything he said because he doesn't know how to let go.

And the most heartbroken face when Chenyi pulls away from him again, when he leaves again, when he refuses to explain anything or to stay with him and just keeps trying to get away from him because he truly believes that Chenyi shouldn't forgive him for what he did and that there's no way Chenyi loves him or ever loved him that way he loves him.

But Ai Di in blue? Already got his hair back to blonde but he's still in blue and Chenyi is in black and white but the lights around them are red again, lighting them both the same way.

They need to communicate but neither of them knows how because they've spent a lifetime communicating without having to talk and now they need to actually talk.

They were brothers. They relied on each other. They knew each other so well they could fight without even looking. All their communication was natural and now they need to fight that and actually speak to each other, to understand each other, to make themselves be vulnerable because that is the only way they can get past this.

They can do it. The red light promises that they can. But right now they're on very, very different pages.

#kiseki: dear to me #kdtm #chen yi x ai di #ai di #ai di x chen yi #bl drama #bl series #asianlgbtqdramas #asian lgbtq dramas #taiwanese bl #taiwan bl #taiwanese drama #taiwan drama #taiwanese series #kiseki dear to me #taiwanese bl series #taiwanese bl drama #i love them so much

737 notes · View notes

alornights · 2 years

Text

⟢ habits

➜ in which ! they pick up your habits.

💌 ﹫i. midoriya, s. todoroki, k. bakguou, h. sero n. monoma, y. shindo, h shinso.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗none.

🍓 ⟡ notes — my first ever tumblr post. woah.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ IZUKU MIDORIYA — walking around in circles while listening to music.

found you in your dorm walking in circles with headphones in, eyes staring off into space, and your arms moving every so often.

he doesn't know what to think at first so he leaves you alone (he takes a video though for blackmail.)

next day he enters your dorm your doing it again right after an hour-long training session. and all he could think was 'what the fuck' and proceeds to start giggling like a madman.

after lots of laughs on one end and fake crying on the other, he finds out that you think better when walking around, and pair that with music, you're unstoppable.

after this you freely do this in his company and tbh, he finds it both hilarious but adorable especially with your hand movements.

he decided to try out for funsies and the amount of things that were solved and created in that hour of him walking around with music is unbelievable. so he continues.

and before he knew it, he was walking around the entire dorm for an hour straight listening to music while imagining himself in a multitude of scenarios that he'd never tell a soul.

has also embarrassed himself doing that. now he has to do multiple people favors so that shit isn't leaked.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ SHOUTO TODOROKI — using hands to speak

when he first started talking to you he was overwhelmed whenever you talked because of your hand motions.

but as time when on he found it pretty cool because it just emphasized how you felt, and he liked that.

for example, the day you were ranting to him about some girl who bitched about you being fake and your hands were everywhere demonstrating how you could beat her up.

or when you're singing and would make all sorts of gestures that match the lyrics (he especially liked it when it was towards him)

he realizes that this could maybe help him express his emotions i little more after he had picked up your habit randomly one day.

used it on endeavor, the man was so confused and he was more focused on the hand motions than what the poor boy was saying.

also started using it around his friends, which went as well as it could've. because apparently, they had been using it a bit. he finally understands what they're trying to say now.

now you two have such fun ranting about things.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ KATSUKI BAKUGOU — blankly staring at people.

i mean, it's not like he didn't do this already. but it intensified after getting with you and spending way to much time with you.

whenever someone said something that made you cringe, angry, or stunned, you would slowly turn to them with the blankest stare ever, unable to form any words.

it happened to him and he was so uncomfortable.

but when it happened to others it was the funniest thing to him.

would purposely make people say dumb shit and DO dumb shit just to see you stare and your victim's reactions.

and as time went on, he unconsciously started picking it up.

you thought people were uncomfortable or scared when you did it? now imagine you AND bakugou doing it together.

he doesn't know when or how he picked it up, all he knows is that he loves using it.

midoriya starts going on a rant about heroes? he shuts up the minute bakugou starts turning his head. denki is about to say yet another dumb thing? halfway he stops knowing the look he's gonna get.

he knows better to do it to you though. tried to doing a stare off but felt even more uncomfortable that before he got the habit.

he thanks you every day for making it one of his habits.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ HANTA SERO — dancing to songs but the dance is from another song.

started when you were in his dorm and he was playing beyonce and out of nowhere you start doing the "tell me" dance. and it kept going. for every song. the same part of the dance on repeat.

it happens again during class when the class was practicing their dance skills for the festival and you just started doing a tiktok dance that somehow fits way too well with the song.

when asked all you could answer was "the beat matches."

so every time he watches you dance he somehow manages to remember the steps and unconsciously started doing the same thing as you.

got called out by his friends for doing a random kpop dance to a pitbull song when they were just hanging out.

he wants to cry and you cheer.

but he continues doing it anyways because its fun.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ NEITO MONOMA — cheeking food before eating it.

whether you're a picky eater or have allergies or just don't like certain foods, you decide to check your food always.

and monoma found that weird but interesting.

started checking your food for you whenever you couldn't and unconsciously checking his own food for both things he didn't like and things you didn't like.

was totally oblivious to this until his friends got annoyed every time he wanted to eat something of theirs.

hates but loves you for this now.

actually saved him one time at a restaurant where he checked his food and found something he was allergic to.

he thanked you so much after that !

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ YO SHINDO — mumbling but making sure others hear.

when he first met you were mumbling a lot, and most of the time you weren't even trying to hide what you were saying.

"if you couldn't get into yuuei and had to go to a no-name hero school, no room to speak. at all."

everyone around wanted to beat the shit out of you, but shindo, he found it so funny that he started laughing like a maniac.

he found you so funny that he actively sought you out afterward and started hanging out with you. yes because your funny, but mostly to see people's reactions to your mumblings

especially loves it when you shit-talk people right to their face.

he's so very conscious that he picked up your habit and takes it with glee now that he can piss people off in a funnier way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ HITOSHI SHINSO — playing with hands.

the day after you two became friends you randomly grabbed his hands and started playing with it and cracking his knuckles.

bro was star struck, never having been one to be affectionate.

was kind of uncomfortable with it at first but didn't really say anything because he didn't really care.

but then he started enjoying the way you played with his hands and then actively started playing with your hands.

then drawing on your hand, waving your hand around, using your fingers to type on his phone, almost bit your finger once...

he got so used to it that he forgets he's in public / in front of friends and will do whatever with your hands because he's bored.

almost did it to one of his classmates and he wanted to die.

hates you for that, but loves you for introducing it to him.

#bnha x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #hanta sero x reader #neito monoma x reader #yo shindo x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader

3K notes · View notes

just-a-sewer-goblin · 7 months

Text

Simon Flinches

Simon x gn!reader

Finally did it! And I looked at it so much that I hate it now, even went back in and changed some small words and stuff, but here you go. Take the flinching trope and make it Simon instead of reader flinching.

Warnings: panic attack, hurt/comfort, barely proofread because I'm too tired, reader being called "Sir" as a honorific not referring to the gender

Wordcount ~3k

You'd say you've gotten good at navigating the minefield that is Simon. You've been together a while by now and you've learned how to handle him so he feels safe and can be himself. It's been a long process that's far from over but you wouldn't have it any other way. Simon is worth all the time, all the effort. And if it means losing a limb in the process, crossing that minefield to get closer to him is worth it.

Simon would say he's gotten good at defusing the ticking bomb that he is. He's been with you for a bit now and he's learned how to trust you more, how to be vulnerable with you. His walls are lower than they’ve ever been and it has actually lead to good things.

But sometimes things don’t go as you want. No matter how hard you try, how carefully you try to navigate Simon. Sometimes just a tiny thing, a gesture, a word, makes everything explode, traps you in that minefield without knowing where to put your foot next, how to reach out to him without stepping onto another scar, tearing it open in a violent explosion.

Like now. It’s so goddamn stupid you could kick yourself. You've been arguing about whose turn it was to choose the movie. Something so insignificant, so trivial. But it's been a long day for both of you and what started as a joking argument has turned into an actual one and now you don't know how to stop it. Your voices are raised, you’re both shouting the frustrations of the day at each other. You hate arguing with Simon, just as he hates arguing with you.

You know it’s a normal part of any relationship, but with Simon it scares you. With Simon you never know when it could turn into him leaving. Into him pulling away. Yet you find yourself unable to stop your frustration from dripping from your tongue like venom. Simon’s not doing any better.

"Your movie choices are questionable anyway!", Simon throws into your face. "I suffer through them just for you. But they're horrible really! They all suck. I want to watch something that actually entertains me!"

Okay, that stung. Just a few days ago you'd shared one of you favorite movies with him. A movie that changed something in you when you first watched it, a movie that slightly tilted your world view. You didn't expect him to like it but that stung. And in your mind his sentence turns into you not being entertaining enough.

So you step forward, trying to hold back tears. "Yeah, as if your", you jab your finger at his chest, Simon flinches back "movie choices -"

You freeze. He'd taken a step back, raising his hands to shield himself and your heart drops, shattering at your feet. His big eyes are watching your next move in apprehension.

It should be ridiculous, really, someone as capable as Simon, a trained soldier, flinching over you putting your finger on his chest. As if you could actually inflict harm on him. As if you wouldn't rather die than hurt him.

But it's not ridiculous. It's a fucking fist to the face.

The sudden quiet makes your ears ring and Simon doesn't seem to be any better. His chest is heaving. His arms are still up, shoulders hunched, his entire stance small and scared. He’s ready to block your blows, ready to deal with you finally putting your hands on him.

His breathing is loud and quick and you want to guide him to calmness but you don’t know how when you caused his distress in the first place. This is new territory. A new step you took that landed you directly over a mine and it’s exploding right now. Exploding in slow motion, letting you see the details of everything you’ve built with Simon shattering and crumbling into dust.

Then his entire demeanor changes and you almost get whiplash. In a flash he’s squared his feet, narrowed his eyes and dropped his shoulders. His hands have gone down but they’re fists at his sides and there’s nothing relaxed about his new stance. You just watched every wall he’s let down for you come back up in the matter of a second.

His cold gaze almost hurts, his eyes distant and calculating, trying to guess your next move. Like a shield of ice that slipped into place before his soul, keeping it hidden from you.

"Simon -" It's whispered. A plea.

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders and then starts walking towards you with purpose. For an irrational second you think he’s going to hit you for scaring him. You think he’s going to get revenge on you for everything that’s ever been done to him.

The next second you’re ashamed for even thinking that. He’s not going for you. No, it’s worse. He’s going for the door of the living room behind you.

You’re helplessly watching, your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth, throat dry, almost painful. Your heart is hammering so hard it feels like it’s trying break your ribs from the inside. Trying to break free so it can follow Simon.

You’re frozen as you watch him leave the room. Every single muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to whip around and stop any threat. Stop you should you so much as breathe too hard.

Holding your breath, tears gather in your eyes, dripping wetly down your cheeks. This is it, you’re waiting for the telltale sound of the door to the apartment opening and closing, Simon walking out of your life because this is irreparable.

The relieve you feel when you hear the bedroom door instead almost brings you to your knees. Then you hear the lock to the room turn and your heart breaks all over again. He’s locked you out of his safe space.

Fuck.

You sink down onto the floor and start crying in earnest. You never wanted to scare him. Never wanted to provoke that reaction. You had only pointed your finger!

You’re not even sure if you’re crying over what you’d just done or if your tears are for Simon, how he must be feeling right now. The one person he’s let in raising their hand at him, making him feel unsafe.

He’d thought you’d hit him. He’d thought you’d put your hands on him in a harmful way.

The pain coursing through you makes you breathless as you cry for Simon and everything he’s endured, as you cry over what you’d just ruined.

Hopefully he can’t hear you from the bedroom. You don’t want to cry over this, it’s not your place to cry when Simon is the one hurting. But you’re so scared of losing him of losing your best friend of losing your forever that you can’t help it.

In a weird twisted, crooked way his reaction is prove of how much he trusts you. Trusted you. He’d trusted you enough to let his guard down so far that a gesture of yours caught him off guard. You’ve never seen him so surprised by something someone did, his eyes always all over everyone. He’s always so aware of everyone and everything.

The fact that he felt safe enough to even be caught off guard shows just how close he’d let you. It was a privilege, a gift. A fragile little thing with broken wings in your palms and now you’ve crushed it.

You try to calm your breathing more. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Deep, slow. The way you instruct Simon to breathe when he’s battling his demons.

Demons he might be battling right now. And suddenly your tears run dry and you jump to your feet. This really isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself. So you get a slippery grip on your emotions and push them back for a later time.

Rushing to the bedroom, you raise your hand and pause. You can hear Simon’s steps in the room; he’s walking in circles like a caged animal. You’ll be damned if you don’t at least try to help, doesn’t matter if this is your fault in the first place.

You knock.

His steps halt.

And then they approach the door, soft thuds drawing closer, you can see the door handle turn but it doesn’t open. And then he’s frantically shaking it, apparently not remembering locking it.

“It’s locked!” His voice sounds so confused and scared that your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“You locked it, baby. You can unlock it. The key is on your side.”, you try to say in a calm soothing tone but you’re pretty sure your voice is shaking.

The turning of the key is frantic and the door gets ripped open and then you’re face to face with Simon and his eyes are wide, flitting all over the room, disoriented. His chest is still heaving, even worse than before, and when you see him shaking, you know there’s no stopping it.

Simon’s eyes lock on you and he doubles over, his hands clawing at his chest and neck, he's breathing too hard, always in until his chest must feel like it’s exploding.

“Can’t… breathe…”, he chokes out, eyes utterly terrified, tears starting to drip as he’s frantically trying to breathe and not drown in his feelings.

You don’t know if this is a ‘touch helps’ kind of panic attack or a ‘don’t you dare touch me’ panic attack and you’re scanning over him trying to guess, when his hand grips your shoulder in an iron grip and his wide eyes look straight through you.

He’s still hyperventilating and your heart seems hell bent on matching his hectic panting. Grabbing his arms, you try to steady him as he goes down, his knees buckling. He’s heavy in your hold and your muscles scream but you put your all into preventing him from falling and hurting himself in the process. At least you manage to slow his fall and then he’s on the floor on his hands and knees. One of his hands tries to dig his fingers into the floor as the other fists his shirt, damn near ripping it.

You have to do something even if you don’t know if it’ll help or make things worse. There's no forgiving yourself if you don’t at least try, even if it’s fishing in the dark. If it doesn’t work, you can change the approach. But doing nothing won’t help anyway. So you wrap your arms around him. “I’m going to lay you down, baby. I’m going to hold you.”

You don’t think he hears you but maneuvering him without telling him feels wrong anyway. And then you do exactly as you said, you tug Simon with all your strength towards you and he topples over onto his side, landing on top of you instead of the floor and you’re glad you’re there to soften his fall. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll have bruises from it.

Immediately you wriggle partially out from under him, keeping him on your thighs, in your lap and you wrap your arms around him.

“I’ve got you, Simon. I’m here. You’re in our apartment. Everything is okay. You’re safe, baby.”

Tears silently start dripping fdown your face again, when he curls in on himself clawing at the floor and you know he will black out if he doesn’t get his breaths more even.

In a desperate attempt you put your hand over his chest and push. “Simon, breathe out, baby, come on. Out.”

You exhale in an exaggerated way next to his ear and you think you hear him exhaling the tiniest bit, before he’s sucking air in in in. But that’s something. He can hear you, he reacts, which means he’s allowing you to guide him.

You press again. “Good, again. Ouuuuuut.”, you exhale and this time he manages to get a bit more air out. The way your top is sticking to you with sweat makes you shiver but you don’t give any attention to your own body being stressed. It will calm down when Simon does.

You continue. You don’t know how long you talk to him like that, reassurances between commands to breathe. It’s probably only been a few minutes, but you’re exhausted like you’ve been going for hours, fighting for every exhale until finally his breathing is back to a rhythm that’s as close to normal as it can get in this moment.

The exhaustion rolls over you as if you’ve had the attack yourself and your body curls over him, resting your head on him as he shakes in your lap and breathes.

The thumping of his heart under your cheek is still way too quick and he’s shaking like a fucking leaf, so you drag your tired body out from under him and turn him onto his back. Goddamnit he’s heavy.

Looking at his face resupplies your tears. His cheeks are wet, he’s pale as a sheet and his arms are clutched tightly to him as he continues shaking. You know he’s somewhat aware of his surroundings again but he’s still victim to his mind and body.

Remembering what he’s asked for before in moments when he’s needed grounding, you crawl over him and lay down with your full weight. Your head rests on his chest, near his shoulders and his arms, curled over his chest, dig into your own uncomfortably but that doesn’t matter right now.

Your own body shakes with his as you raise your hands, gently lifting his head - after a silent “please” because he resisted for a moment until his eyes focused on you - and pull a rug closer so he can rest his head on that instead of the hard floor.

Your entire body sags with relief when he pulls his arms out from under you and wraps them around you instead. His hold is tight as if he’s trying to make your bodies merge into one. As if he’s trying to push you into his ribcage to keep your right next to his heart.

His heartbeat slowly returns to normal under you and yours follows his lead. When he lifts his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, you curl your fist tighter into his shirt and finally try to push yourself off of him. The slight tightening of his hold on you makes you settle again.

The broad palms of his hands are warm and soothing as they pass back and forth over your back. You press your lips to his chest through his shirt and his next exhale is long and shaky.

He moves, jostling you slightly, and you try to get up again, but he doesn’t let you. His voice is low and tired as he says: “Hold on, lovie.”

You do and he sits up, maneuvering you in his arms until he’s got one arm around your back and one under your knees. Then he stands up and even though his movements are slow and exhausted the little to no effort with which he handles your weight still steals your breath.

His heavy steps take you both back into your bedroom and he puts you down on your shared bed, crawling in with you immediately.

You turn onto your side, as does he and then you’re looking at each other, the exhaustion on his face making you feel your own all the more.

Simon moves his hand, covers one of yours and squeezes twice. Immediately you return the gesture. A small sleepy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The reassurance behind that gesture making both of you melt into the mattress.

Still there’s so much talking to do and you end up whispering “We need to talk about this, Si.” into the small space between you, where your joined hands lie.

He brings your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to each of your fingers, before letting it fall back onto the covers, still in his hold. His eyes are exhausted but you know you can’t sleep without having discussed what happened.

“I need you to know, Si”, you swallow against the tightness in your throat “I would never, ever hurt you. I’d rather chop off my own hand than touch you in a way that could cause you harm. I’m so sorry, Simon, I-“

“I know.”

You shut up, big eyes on his and he smiles, kissing the back of your hand this time.

“I know.”, he repeats and practically watches the gears in your head turn. So he takes a deep gulp of air and continues. “It’s not you, ‘luv. It’s the fucking past. Not your fault that a damn finger is all it took today to set me off. It’s my brain being a fucker.”

You’re so relieved you could cry again. He didn’t think you’d hurt him. His brain just didn’t make the distinction between the finger belonging to you or someone else at that moment. In that moment it was only a hand raised against him.

Still, maybe there’s a way to prevent that in the future? So you tentatively ask: “What can I do so you feel comfortable trusting me more? So you don’t feel like you’re endangered by a gesture from me?”

“I trust you.”, he states calmly and you shake your head.

“There has to be something I can do better. So it’s easier for you to trust-“ The way Simon takes your joined hands and brings them up to his throat, abruptly shuts you up. He's pressing your palm against it so it would be easy to squeeze and hurt and – you try to pull it back and he forces your hand harder against his throat with his own. You freeze completely.

“I trust you.”

Your eyes widen and fly to his from where they’d been locked onto his throat and the way your hand is curled against it in a chokehold.

His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes fixated on you, willing you to understand. The soft caress of his thumb on the back of your hand - a hand that could cut off his oxygen if you wanted - makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“Okay.”, you whisper and he finally drops his hand, allows you to slowly draw your hand back from his throat. Your eyes are still widened and lock onto his neck again. Leaning forward you press a kiss to the delicate skin over his Adam’s apple and feel him swallow heavily under your lips.

When you look at hom again his eyebrows are still furrowed and warm palm finds your cheek. “I’m sorry, I reacted like that to something so small.”

You shake your head and nuzzle into his hold, giving a little kiss to his thumb. There's desperation in his eyes and you whish you could kiss it away.

“I’m sorry, ‘m all kinds of fucked up, ‘luv. Wouldn’t fault you if it’s too much. If you want to –“ Your hand covers his mouth and his eyes betray the surprise at that gesture.

“Don’t you dare, Si. Don’t you dare even say that. As if I’d want that. You shouldn’t even think that. The only reason why I mind the panic attacks is because I know how heavily they weigh on you. You can flinch, you can scream, you can break, I don’t mind. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t enjoy seeing you hurt, if I could I’d make it stop, but I’ll take that as long as I have you in my arms at the end of the day.”

His hand gently draws your hand away from his mouth and he whispers: “But I’m a handful, lovie. How can you not mind the hassle?”

You smile at him, a little mischievously. “Good thing that I’ve got two hands then, baby.”

He snorts, while his entire face softens, and draws you in closer, you're pressed into his chest, his arms around you and he showers your head with kiss after kiss.

“I thought you were going to leave me.”, comes your muffled voice abruptly halting all of Simon's movement. Gently he pushes you away a bit so you can see his sincerity when he answers.

“Never. As long as you’ll have me.”

Your eyes water and he tilts your head up, with the tip of his finger under your chin, and presses the softest of kisses to your lips. “Don’t care about the flinches and panic attacks and hard moments as long as I get to be in your arms at the end of the day.”

You laugh, when he uses your words against you, a cracked, teary laugh and kiss him again.

“Fuck I need a nap.”, he groans once you’ve managed to stop spelling your love against the lips of each other. You giggle.

“We both do, but drink something first. You’ll wake up with a headache if you don’t.”, you say and he groans with the effort of rolling over and drinking out of the bottle on his nightstand.

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you, what he did to find someone so caring. Who looks at his hard exterior and handles it with soft touches and patience. He doesn’t know what he did right in his life, because he for sure can’t remember ever doing anything right, to find someone like you. He’s not going to let you go and if he has to beg at some point, then he’ll strangle his pride with his own two hands and do so.

When he faces you again he grins. “Mission accomplished, Sir.”

You groan and hide your face in your hands, missing Simon’s soft expression at your flustered state. God you’re so cute. Especially when you’re voice comes out all embarrassed when you say: “You can’t say that! You know what it does to me when you call me that!”

He wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close, your bodies fit to each other, immediately finding comfort in each other. And he can feel a wave of calmness crash over him, making him sleepy and slow. “Ya can do something ‘bout that when we wake up. Don’t think my soldier’s up to doing any long marches right now.”

He’s expecting it when your hand wriggles free and slaps his shoulder. “Simon!” You can feel his upper body shake with silent laughter.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Si.”

Your eyes are heavy, your muscles finally relaxing after all that tension of earlier. Your bodies melt into each other. You can feel Simon’s breathing getting slower, a telltale sign of him falling asleep.

“I love you.”, you mumble again before sleep takes you.

Simon’s too far gone to reply but you feel the two squeezes of his hand on you, pressing his love directly into your skin.

#the sewer writes #simon ghost riley x reader #simon x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #hurt and comfort #simon x gn!reader #simon riley x gn! reader #gn! reader #hurt/comfort #panic attack #mentions of being hurt in the past #cod simon #cod ghost x reader #cod simon riley x reader

191 notes · View notes

miraculouslbcnreactions · 1 month

Note

This thoughts still cooking, so it might not make sense, but I think Thomas (Tomas?) Astruc is a very good case study on how being too attached to your own ideas can hinder your story telling.

I don't mean this in a "Thomas's original idea for the series was bad", but rather that he seems so attached to this concept that he can't stand other people having a differing view from him.

Chloe's the titular example here. Some people thought she deserved a redemption arc, and instead of just saying "nah, I don't think so" and continuing to write her the same way he had been, he had to prove them wrong, prove that his idea was the only correct one, and so turned her into the spawn of Satan and let her rule over Paris for some reason.

Instead of making Marinette less stalker-y, he wrote an entire episode poorly justifying it. And, imao, somewhat diminishing what PTSD actually is and does to people.

I'm not saying he has to make any change (though I think making Marinette less stalker-y would be a good change), but instead of 1.) sticking to his resolve or 2.) taking the criticism, he clung dearly onto this perception of his characters and his writing suffered because of how much he had to twist things to "prove" that his original assertions were right. And also that everyone who disagreed with him was wrong and didn't understand

idk if that makes sense, but the concepts been lingering in my head recently

It makes perfect sense! I've had similar thoughts. It's hard to say for sure, but Miraculous may be a case study in "kill your darlings". I'm not deep into the behind-the-scenes lore and I was not here in the early fandom, but I do know that, at some point, a much darker version of the show was pitched. That's why these exist (image source):

[Image description: two sketches styled like comic book covers. Both have the title "The Mini Menace Ladybug". The left cover shows Marinette's silhouette in a doorway. The door's glass and the glass of a nearby window are broken. In the foreground lies a hand holding a ladybug charm. The hand is limp and surrounded by blood, implying that someone is injured or dead. The right cover is Ladybug doing a spinning kick while looking angry.]

We also have this evidence of the darker original concept:

Jeremy Zag then proposed another project... which he was unable to sell to broadcasters... the project was called "Ladybug". No one was interested, as the project was aimed more at an adult audience... Sébastien had to make sure that the project could be broadcast on Disney and TF1.... Thomas wanted to make a series for adults, but at the time, it was very complicated to make a cartoon for adults. What's more, they didn't have enough money to take on such a project. Sébastien finally agreed, but there were some changes to be made, which Thomas accepted... In the end, Thomas Astruc's entire project was discarded, leaving only the love story between the two heroes and the city of Paris, where the story was to take place.

I've been aware of this darker origin story for a while due to Tumblr and, because of this knowledge, I have often had the thought, "are the writers trying to sneak elements from this darker version into canon?" Because that's the most likely explanation for what's going on here.

If I'm right, then I think that was a terrible move on their parts. They needed to let go of the story that they couldn't sell and embrace the story that they're being allowed to tell. It's why "kill you darlings" is such good advice. Many good stories have been ruined by writers clinging to an idea that ultimately doesn't work for some reason.

It's why the sitcom How I Met Your Mother has such a universally hated ending. The show was originally supposed to go for two seasons and so they wrote an ending that would fit the second season. The show ended up running for nine seasons and, by then, the ending didn't fit, but the writers kept it and left everyone with a bad taste in their mouths, which is not what any writer wants. That's why you have to do what's best for the story even if it means abandoning something that you really love.

This early version of canon may also be why the writers are so obsessed with Marinette. My understanding is that this concept had her mainly acting as a solo hero and, oh look! What is one of canon's biggest problems? Marinette being treated like a solo hero even though she has a partner and, later on, a team!

Not saying that this theory has to be true, just saying that it would explain some things. And if they're poisoning canon by trying to include elements from their darker original? Then it makes sense to assume that they're also doing it for smaller stuff. Like I'm pretty sure I've read that the head writer wanted Chat Blanc to be a lot darker originally, but no one would green light it, so we got an incredibly lackluster episode that spat in the face of the genres Miraculous' is trying to be part of while also falling to have the sort of impact we'd expect from an episode like that. It's a good example of a darling that really should have been killed. It just doesn't fit.

(Totally unrelated sidenote, but is your blog name from Tangled? Because that's what I immediately thought of and it made me smile!)

#the-story-of-how-we-died #ml writers salt #behind the scenes theorizing

112 notes · View notes

kix-mm · 1 year

Text

Whatever happens... A, B, and C

"Hey C? Buddy? How're you doing in there? Are you ready to come out yet?"

Their question was met with a cold silence, but B could do nothing about the unpleasant response. It was meant to still be a secret between B and A, with the idea being that once they had reached their third month's anniversary of their relationship that they would tell C. But the surprise came a little too early.

A bent down. "Have they still not come out yet? It's been an hour..." They spoke in a soft and hopeless tone, which was conflicting with their usual upbeat personality.

"No..." B replies while eying the bathroom door. "I just hope they'll be okay... what if they don't like us anymore after this? I don't want to lose them. This is exactly what we were trying to prevent..." he says while silently acknowledging the irony of this whole situation.

B knocks on the little door again. "C? Please come out...". "N-no!..." came a soft squeak, which very briefly settled B and A's worry that their partner had somehow managed to escape through the window. They knew it would actually be impossible for C, but the fear was still there, C had a tendency to accomplish the impossible, such as dating two people who were secretly giants.

The two shared a look of grief, and A could see how B's mind was tumbling: "What if they break up with us? W-what if they leave us?" B asked with a choked voice. "Then we let them... it's not right to hold someone hostage. That would definitely make us monsters. C is already so overwhelmed..." A spoke with pain in their heart. At first, A wanted to pry the door open and get ahold of C, but now that they've thought things through it would most likely never go well.

"I miss them..." B hugged themselves tighter. "I miss them so much, and they're right here. They're so close, and we're losing them A... what do we do..?" A sighs "I don't know..."

Hours continued to fly by till the early morning, around 4. C finally decided to have a peek outside the bathroom to investigate the silence. They almost yelped when he saw how close the two were to the door, A was snuggled up to B, they both looked exhausted. To C, this was a relief. This was their chance to get the hell out of here... C grabbed their keys and bag off the counter and quietly made their way to the door. They took their time to observe their home for a final time and made some connections, such as why the ceiling was so high and why the two always had a glimmer in their eyes whenever they saw each other... C always thought it was because they were in love, which may have been the case, but also because the two shared a deep secret with one another... one that they never deemed necessary to tell C despite being their partner. Maybe C's insecure thoughts were right about them being nothing more than a third wheel.

Suddenly, he noticed B's eyes flicker open. In a panic, C rushes to the door, his steps waking the both of them. He pulled on the door and... nothing. It didn't budge, he tried again, then he tried pushing, nothing. Finally, he looked up from the handle and saw A's hand pressed against the top. Fear struck his already broken heart as he felt it sink to his stomach. He spun back towards the bathroom to see that his safe haven had been blocked off by B.

C looked up at the two with frantic eyes, unable to get his legs to move. He had no real other pace to hide as their layout was rather open. B gently reached to make contact with C, but C jolted away as if B's fingers were knives. "D-Don't touch me!" C hated how the fear rang in his voice, how he stammered in front of them. C never was one to speak up for himself. He was the timid and soft-spoken one of the three.

B and A kept their distance, looking down at C with pleading eyes, please C please don't go. Let us explain, let us hold you, show you that we would never hurt you.

But their silent pleading fell on deaf ears. C stared at the two with blurry eyes, tears obscuring his vision. "Let me go." he rests his hand on the handle, looking at A. Please let me get out of here.

A & B share a look before returning their eyes to C. "Let us first explain ourselves... please Cc?" B pleaded with an all too familiar nickname that made C feel uneasy hearing at the moment.

C's legs were ready to make a run for it as soon as either one made an attempt to grab him again, he was particularly eying B for that distinct twitch they'd show when they lost their patience. This would be C's only chance to speak their mind before something were to happen to them. "I... no, I've heard enough, I've... I've seen enough. I don't know why you'd keep such a big secret from me for so long! I'm not a stranger. We've known each other for years! And not once was I ever considered your equal! I-I'm just that easy to get forget about, aren't I? The small third party! Quick and easy to get rid of!" C's breathing quickened, and his blood boiled, yet he still kept his voice lowered. Regret began to almost instantly set in after he was done talking back at the two in such a tone, he swore that the two were now staring right through him. How dare he speak to them that way, how dare he try to question their decisions when he was so disposable to them?

Instead, A let out a very pitiful sniffle, a gate of tears rolled down their cheeks. "We're sorry, we're so, so sorry... we really messed up this whole plan." they say while trying to wipe all those messy tears off. Wanting nothing more than to be given a second chance to try and be better at how they handled the situation. They wanted to explain how scared they were of C's reaction and how they knew he would be scared if they had revealed this secret any sooner.

B held A's hand before looking at C. "C... no, no C, you're not! Don't say that! Please get that out of your head it was never meant to get so out of hand. We swear we would have told you a-and it was supposed to be a whole setup and everything!" Slowly B moved their hand closer to C. C hadn't even noticed B's hand. they were too occupied by their heart ringing in their ears and the sight of A sobbing in B's arms. Even B looked completely heartbroken.

When C suddenly felt B's hand wrap around his waist and legs, he began to frantically squirm, watching and attempting to push away any enclosing fingers that hugged his body. "n-no stop! Stop!!" C yelped. "I-it's okay! It's okay, I won't drop you, I promise you C..." B spoke with a gentle yet strained voice, trying to hide the pump in his throat as he felt his panicked lover squirm and scratch. Wincing a little as he felt warm tears drip down his fingers.

A quickly wiped his tears and let B open their hand. The two had talked for hours about what it would be like to hold C in their hands, how they wanted C to take naps, demand being held, how soft he would feel... this would probably not be the case anymore... "Cc..." A spoke softly. B looked at C. "I'm sorry I... I just wanted to be near you. Please don't be scared, A and I... we were trying to prevent this reaction, but it just happened. A-and now everything seems forced and-and the timing is terrible and we're scared we're going to lose you! We don't want to lose you C. Please, please believe us, we promise there's nothing else to hide from you, we will tell you everything... let us prove it to you... we will do anything to make up for this mess."

C was a shivering mess. They looked at both lovers like they were predators despite the duo's best attempts to calm him, giving gentle rubs and holding him against their chest. Talking to him with a soft and sweet voice that tried to reassure him that he was safe and that they would never hurt him while also repeatedly apologizing. This continued till the sun rose, and C finally passed out on B's chest.

The two laid him in bed, their poor C was exhausted, their cheeks stained with tear marks and their eyes were puffy, their body never stopped shivering and every now and then they'd jolt and mumble incoherently. The two looked at each other with equally stained cheeks and puffy eyes. They decided it would be best for them to shrink down to the size C was familiar with. B held C's hand and gently kissed their forehead while A kissed C's cheek and snuggled up to spoon him. The 3 got cuddled up together and fell into a deep sleep... hopefully, when C woke up, they'd be more willing to talk. But they couldn't be certain. All they could really focus on was that C was in their arms, and hopefully, after some time, they'd be able to sleep together without fear.

1K notes · View notes