#this was brought to you by me losing my mind over another unrelated piece

[justsmiledoe]

[xerith-42]

Hey guyyyys!! I'm baaack with a fresh batch of Laurance angst brought to you by "I really like this random design detail and will try my damnedest to make it make sense." The design detail in question is heterochromia!

Today's programming involves discussion of torture and probably some body horror

So, I'm a big believer in heterochromatic Laurance. It's just real to me. Because honestly both of his very distinct looks are serving cunt in very distinct Laurance Zvahl ways. I have a preference for his original appearance because I have a few bones to pick with Jessica's design decisions, but the pale blue and even blind eyes fit Laurance really well.

In a separate iteration of Laurance I made him lose one of his eyes before the rebirth process, so his heterochromia was unrelated to the whole pseudo-zombie thing. But in MCD... Well... Everything comes back to Shadow Knights.

Little Larry has beautiful emerald green eyes that then get utterly destroyed by the cruelness of the hell he willingly threw himself into to save those he loves. And uhhh, Laurance in canon says he was tortured down there. So let's get into that, shall we? Now, a thing about torture methods is that there's a lot of them, they're really easy to come up with if you have even a slightly sadistic mindset, and they are often focused. Most people who frequently engage in torture chose one field of the body to focus on.

Now let's look at Gene. Obviously for his magical and psychological torture, his focus is on the mind. But what about his physical methods? Obviously Gene gets his kicks out of people in pain, yet I think his real focus is when it gets personal. When someone isn't just in pain, but they are crying, shaking, writhing in agony while staring up at him cursing his bloodline. The eyes are the window into the mind and they say so much that the mouth can't when words fail or are restricted.

Gene focuses on eyes. He remembers them. They haunt him. When he's learning how to break people, he learns how to use their very sense of sight against them. It's already what he knows how to do with his magic and extreme gaslighting tactics. If he has a focus, if he has a piece of information he needs, and he has a target, then he'll focus on the eyes. If he, for example, thinks that Laurance has more information on either realm barriers or Aphmau, who is quickly becoming a point of interest for the Shadow King, then he'll have a reason.

But he can't possibly permanently ruin both of Laurance's eyes. He still needs another for at least semi-proper comprehension of how fucked he is. Gene doesn't need more than one eye. And I like to characterize Gene as a bit of a mad scientist, testing out his magic and Shadow Knight powers in extreme and unhinged ways.

Who knows what he did to Laurance's eye, what happened when he destroyed it and regenerative powers brought it back over and over. What effects traversing between realms had on whatever the fuck Gene did to make it so bad it didn't even resemble his original eye color.

Irene's blessing is able to mitigate the damage on his other eye, the one that was only blinded by realm travel, and bring it almost back to its original state. A pale sage color that has partial but still restricted vision. Laurance is grateful for what little eyesight he has. His other eye, the one Gene targeted... It doesn't come back. After the realm barrier blinded it, there was no undoing the damage anymore. It remains a cloudy pale blue, scars running across the skin around it and through his retinas.

I want to make it clear that Laurance isn't ashamed of this. He doesn't try to hide his eye, but he is cagey to answer questions about it. Most people are smart enough not to question, and he'll open up to the people he cares about (ie Garroth and Aphmau) when he's ready. I have a whole arc related to his blindness that's a whole side blog post I'm working on, but Laurance doesn't forsake the sight he has and he also doesn't lament what he's lost.

"Cad[endza] and Aphmau keep saying they want to bring my sight back. [I] know they mean well but... I can't tell them what happened. I don't think either one of them could take it. Garroth might be able to, but I don't think either of us trust each other enough for that conversation yet. I don't need my eyesight back, and I don't need anyone to fix my left eye. If they knew what that monster did, they would be grateful I have an eye to be blinded.

He doesn't encourage anyone to try and bring it back, and he might even get upset if they're too insistent about it. He's not exactly eager for another magic user to get their hands too close to an already severely damaged eye. He might not say it out loud to someone, but... [blinks my gay little eyes] There's a page in his journal that reads--

Text ID:

[trashlie]

hey! 😼 please don't worry about responding late. please take all the time you need to rest. answering asks can wait!! 💗 and thank you for your elaborate response, you brought up great details that really made me rethink how everything will influence the general plot of the story. i don't even have much to add, and for the sake of brevity i will only address some things. hope you don't mind!

as for our dear kousuke, i've been thinking for a bit… and i feel like even if the media doesn't get involved and everything is kind of glossed over, he's already obviously headed towards a major identity crisis. this incident, the entire night actually, is something he simply cannot align with his version of reality. no wonder kousuke.exe stopped working lmao. how can he NOT have a crisis when he just lost control and acted in a way that, according to his self-perception, is completely out of character for him? because YES, this violence and aggression is something he typically ascribes to nol, never himself. in 213, hansuke asks him "do you know who you are?" (great question my dude) and kou doesn't answer. after what just went down, after facing such a dark side of himself, after beginning to question the past incident, which metaphorically made the ground crack under his feet, can he answer that question?

and i do believe that him questioning himself and his perception of reality (including past and present) is a major step towards defying yui. the crux is, as long as he seeks refuge in this warped reality yui constructed for him, it'll be easy for her to manipulate him, and he can continue excusing her atrocities. so he needs to actually commit to seeking the truth. and this is the hardest and scariest part - how do you even begin to deal with the fact that most of what you believe isn't true? that your MOTHER did this to you? where do you seek safety when you no longer have her? where do you seek safety /from/ her? it's not easy to escape yui's claws. who knows what she's capable of once she's realizes she's about to lose her most valuable pawn. but for kousuke to break free he NEEDS to oppose yui eventually. AGH.

same, i'm nervous about yujing's article too. what the article will reveal exactly… no idea. you brought up some great theories, and i think we have some puzzle pieces (like nol's bad eyesight, yui&kou's physical resemblance, yui's burned/scratched hands, tea?, yujing's friend that got sa'd?, rand's involvement in all this?), but we'll just have to wait and see how they all fit together. nessa's part is what i'm particularly curious about. that's when she disappeared, right? or is that unrelated?

on a more light-hearted side note, thank you for sharing your thoughts on 219 ^___^ i appreciate so much that you highlight little details that usually escape me. because WOW i now totally see that shinae didn't want to sleep because she fears that nol will disappear. he's slipped through her fingers so many times (and even almost died), the possibility to lose him again must terrify her. like, she could very well take a (well-deserved) nap on another empty bed… but no, there she is, holding onto his bed, fighting off sleep, keeping watch. not sure if she's even aware of it, but there is so much tenderness and… yearning or devotion, almost? in her actions. in both their actions, actually, in their attempts to slow down time. and it's ARGGHHH listen i don't even care about romance that much (though i genuinely enjoy their overall dynamic) but these two are killing me with the unspoken yet obvious feelings and the cautious flirting and the butterflies. and i love it.

-lil anon

LMAOOOOO I truly lost it at this line

no wonder kousuke.exe stopped working lmao

This is how I'm going to refer to what happened following what Kousuke read in the Bible lmao kousuke.exe has stopped working

But anyway, yeah, yeah, I think as we get deeper into this, more people are going to come to that realization, that Kousuke has been dealing with something that is SO difficult for him to come out of. Domestic abuse is a living nightmare - especially when there are people who don't see it, but even also when you are afraid to see it. And it's all been orchestrated so well TO make it difficult for him to see it, even if catches a glimpse. Isn't it easy to say "Well we aren't like other families" because that's what she told him and isn't it true? Isn't it easy to fall back on that loyalty, because she's his mother and she couldn't possibly want anything but the best for him? Isn't it terrifying to leave her refuge and feel like there is nowhere else you can go, because you can't trust anyone else, because you've come to believe that everyone must be out to get you that you can never let down your guard, never show any weakness, never let them find a weak spot?

Something really sad about Kousuke is that while I know he knows what kind of woman he is and he knows she's endangered people and plays games with them, that she's like a sadistic cat and all the world are the mice she torments, she's still his mother. And on some level he needs to believe that he isn't one of those mice. Family is complicated, he's been told, their family doesn't act like others. Don't question us just because we aren't what like the other families are like. In a way, he's been lead to doubt even what he observes. Just because they aren't like others doesn't mean it's not wrong... right?

He lacks that coddling and nurturing but in some sad, cold way, Yui still represents safety to him - because she's all he really has. Ugh.

I'm also DYING to know about Nessa. It FEELS like they're related, but I'm not sure. I feel like we need to revisit a timeline of events again. I'm guessing when they were formally introduced, that is when whatever happened to Nessa had happened? So about six years ago. Although, because, according to Kousuke, Nol was emotionally unstable, could it have happened before, and something happened that just pushed him to the brink?

(Also, Kousuke says that Nol meant no harm but was troubled and I REALLY want to know what he means by THAT - especially because Kousuke so intensely believes Nol is violent, and when he was taken away, Nol was asking what he did, saying he didn't even touch him. So?????? So many questions!)

But yeah, at any rate, by the time he got out of there, he didn't have anywhere else to go, so my guess is somewhere in that range - perhaps before he was sent away, but it just really feels like they are closely related, or part of a domino effect - one thing leading to another. It was probably a lot easier to have Nol institutionalized if his legal guardian wasn't around (although I get the feeling with Yui's hands in everything, it wouldn't be too difficult to swing a ruling that Nol was deemed too dangerous and needed to be sent away).

Also, interestingly enough, when Kousuke visits Nol WAY earlier in the series to tell him Shinae (Maya lol) invited them out, he asks "How long has it been since you got out? Four years? Maybe five?" Which doesn't quite align with what he told Shinae. I'm guessing at the time he went over it had been five years, and that Nol had gotten out somewhere in that September to December span, so by the time Shinae asked him, it had officially been 6 years? But. Still. I wonder if that was an oversight early in the story or if yeah, 6 years now as of December?

But back to the main point, I wonder just how much Yujing's article will tell us. I go back and forth on whether or not I think we'll get any insight into Nessa, but I tend to lean into the feeling that whenever we get insight, maybe it will come from Nol? Maybe. But only in the narrative sense of Nol learning to forgive himself/reaching a point where he allows himself to think of her memory and becomes more comfortable talking about her?

It's easy to assume Yui had something to do with what happened to her - and I do not throw out that theory, because Yui sure knows how to get rid of things. But it's just the way that Kousuke admits he has no idea what happened to her and then later says she left Nol that just give me pause. WHAT happened to her?! Of course, especially if it involves Yui, there's a good likelihood that a. he has lied to himself because it's something he can't face or b. he really has no idea because of her skills in manipulation? (And in that case, saying she left him was just a low blow that he threw at Nol?)

Also waaaahhhh thank you for saying that! That's how I feel about every week when the episodes drop actually lol. I am a very emotionally responsive person and it always takes me a couple reads before I start catching certain details (especially if it's a reference to something omg) or just little things I missed (like Shinae's birthdate on the morphine bag!) and the community aspect of discussions pulls through to help me see what I've missed! But because I'm such an emotionally responsive reader, I LATCH ON to little details like choosing to stay awake out of this fear that he'll slip through her finger again, that this moment will pass and the nightmare will resume. Also I'm just a sucker for that kind of tenderness lmao

Your word choice about yearning and devotion really got to me, too, because it just suits that sort of... this sounds cheesy by that almost religious imagery of devotionals because that's kind of what it is? Without them realizing it. Not that I think it's anywhere near this deep but just - something about mutual romance that's compared to this mutual worship, you know? It's something I'm a SUCKER for. And not that Nol is dying, but it has that feeling of keeping vigil, watching over him (and I guess in a way they all HAVE been keeping vigil, since he was unconscious until recently). But also, it just harkens back to all that death and rebirth imagery. Nol off to jail has that feeling of death and rebirth - who will he be when he returns?

But yes I agree with you! I think if ILY got to the end without things ever having gone a romantic route I'd feel just as fulfilled, but I am a SUCKER for tenderness and yearning and they may not be pining right now but if that comes to us I will never stop barking at the moon because THAT IS MY JAM! But yeah! I think it's just a testament to how well done their development has been, that even if you're not romantically inclined it's like... you can't help but be drawn to these little moments, right? ESPECIALLY because we've been watching these two characters in particular go through hell. ESPECIALLY because we've watched Shinae learn to rely on others because of him, and we're getting to see a glimpse of him doing the same. ESPECIALLY because we want them to have little moments of softness.

That's why I can't help but find myself drawn to them as a romantic ship lol. It's not that I need it to happen - it's that they get to me in all the ways that make me feel feral and I can't help but pay attention to them lmaoooooo. Maybe that's how it is for a lot of other readers who ship them? That a lot of just got drawn in because they have such an interesting dynamic and there's something about seeing that tenderness happening between them that just pulls on your heartstrings.

I WANT TO SEE THEM HAPPY AND WARM. I WANT TO SEE THEM AT PEACE. And if warmth and peace comes from each other, then even better lmao

[xutokawa]

aahh the s/o finding scratch marks is fulfilling my angst needs 😭🤚🏽 could u maybe do one with bokuto & suna 🥺 i love your writing so much!! xx

pairings: suna x reader, bokuto x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.3k

» masterlist

a/n: thank you for your support! I tried adding more plot to it this time hehe. breaking bokuto’s heart broke mine bro :( hope you like it! also TYSM GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS FDJSKF i love every single one of yu :D <3 mwah mwah mwah

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

akaashi and hinata ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Suna

“Rin, hand me the soy sauce,” you asked, not looking up from the dish you were stir frying.

“Get it yourself,” Suna teased back. Rolling your eyes, you stuck out your hand. Laughing, Suna came up behind you, placing the bottle of soy sauce in your hands before wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands snuck under your shirt, laying on your bare stomach. You leaned back into his chest, sighing contently. The two of you rarely had time together anymore. While you were burying yourself in your work in hopes for a promotion, Suna was busy with practices that extended throughout the whole day. Both of you were exhausted by the time you came home to your apartment together, unable to muster the energy to do anything except fall asleep in each other’s arms.

“Mmm, you smell good,” Suna said, taking a deep breath into your neck.

“I think that’s the fried rice you’re smelling,” you joked back. Butterflies stormed your stomach as Suna’s hands gently massaged your sides. Even after living with the middle blocker for three years, he never failed to make you feel like a crushing high school student. Suddenly, Suna’s gentle hands grew antsy, teasingly tickling your sides. Jumping, you tell him, “Rin, stop! I’m going to spill something!”

“I think I’ll keep going,” Suna teased back, his hands continuing to tickle you. With one poke to your side, your entire body jerked, causing the soy sauce in your hand to fling into the air, and onto Suna’s shirt.

“Y/n! I really liked this shirt!” Suna whined. 

“That’s your fault, baby. I told you to stop,” you shrugged, laughing at his expression.

“Whatever, I’m going to go change,” Suna pouted, turning away.

As you finished cooking, you went into your shared bedroom to tell Suna dinner was ready. You were stopped in your tracks, however, when you saw his changing form. Back to you, long scratch marks ran down the length of his back. Scratches that were not put there by you. 

“R-rin, what is this?” You asked, voice beginning to waver.

Suna spun around, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

“Y/n! Why didn’t you knock?” Suna nervously asked, rushing to push his t-shirt over his head, “It’s nothing, babe, just uh, got in a fight!”

“Are you sure it was a fight? Or was it a late night in someone else's bed?” You asked accusingly, brows furrowing. Would your Suna cheat on you? You had felt pretty secure about your relationship before now, never having a reason to doubt your trust in your boyfriend. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to make excuses for the lines raked down his back. 

Pain and guilt flashed across Suna’s eyes, and that’s when you knew. You were wrong to believe you gave him everything he needed in a relationship.

“Look, y/n, we can figure this out, just let me-” Suna began.

“Please, stop,” you choked out, eyes welling up with tears. The middle blocker felt his heart shatter watching you back away from him as if he were a plague. 

“No, you don’t understand! I can’t lose you like this,” Suna said, walking towards you, wanting nothing more than to pull you in his arms and wipe your tears away. He stopped in his tracks, however, when you flinched away from his touch, hatred flickering in your eyes. At that moment, Suna felt like the scum of the earth.

“Please, get away from me. Get out of this room, get out of this apartment! I don’t need your excuses,” You said, voice raising. When you finally looked up to meet Suna’s eyes, you found nothing but despair and regret. 

“No! I won’t leave you, y/n! You don’t understand how much I need-” Suna started.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Rintarou,” you scoffed. The pain in Suna’s chest grew at the use of his full name.

“I-it’s Rin. You always call me Rin. Please, call me Rin,” Suna pleaded, voice beginning to shake, “Stop distancing yourself from me. I’m your Rin. Please, don’t leave. I’m so sorry, let me make it up to you!”

“You’re a pathetic piece of shit, Rintarou! Cheating on me and then begging for me to stay and forgive you? Tell me, what was your plan? Did you just want a quick fuck one night? Or did you plan to keep cheating on me for the rest of our relationship?” You angrily walked towards him. Suna watched as the love you once held in your eyes for him turned into agony. He felt himself crumple knowing he was the sole cause of your anger and hurt.

“No! It was a mistake! Please, let me make it up to you,” Suna reached for your hands, desperate to have you with him.

“The only mistake that was made here was me trusting you,” You said, spinning around as you headed for the door. Suna physically flinched at your words, hurt and shame flooding his body. Panic filled his mind at the sound of your keys jingling and the sound of you putting on your shoes.

“Wait! Y/n, where are you going? Please don’t leave, it’s not safe for you to go out right now. Just stay and let us talk about it,” Suna pleaded, walking up behind you.

“I’d rather be anywhere but here with you right now,” you coldly replied, reaching out for the door handle. Suna rushed to stop you from turning the knob.

“Please, y/n, I can’t handle you leaving me,” Suna whispered.

“Just leave it, Suna. No amount of begging or love can fix my trust for you,” you replied, back towards his sobbing figure. Suna finally fell to his knees in defeat as you walked out of the apartment, knowing he lost you forever.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Bokuto

“Ugh, I’m so ready to just relax,” you sighed out, dramatically splaying your arms across the center console in your fiancé’s car. A tingle ran up your spine at the sound of Bokuto chuckling from beside you, not taking his eyes off the road. You could never get used to his laugh, no matter how many times you’ve heard it.

“I know, baby. You deserve it,” Bokuto replied, taking one hand off the steering wheel to place on your thigh, giving a light squeeze. The two of you had been insanely busy the month leading up to this trip. From your boss’ unrelenting demands at work to your family’s constant nagging and opinions on your wedding decorations, the two of you just needed to catch a break. So, when Bokuto brought up the idea of a weekend beach trip, you immediately agreed, jumping up and down in excitement.

The beaming sun immediately warmed your skin as you stepped out of the car. Warmth spread through your body as you glanced back at Bokuto as he started pulling out your stuff from the trunk, looking up to flash you his smile you had fallen in love with ages ago. 

“You go on ahead and find a spot for us, I’ll follow in a second,” Bokuto called out to you. Giving a thumbs up, you started towards the gleaming ocean, excitement filling your body as you felt the sand beneath your feet. Finally, choosing a spot, you unfolded your beach chair, spreading your towel across the top. A smile settled on your face as you laid down, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the harsh rays. Your eyes drifted closed, the sounds of waves crashing and children giggling putting you in a serene state.

Bokuto chuckled at your appearance before setting up his own beach chair next to you, situating a beach umbrella between the two chairs. He felt his heart speed up as he gazed at your relaxing figure, wanting nothing more than to cover your face in kisses. The spiker felt so much love for you, so he felt nothing but confusion as to how he woke up in another person’s bed two nights ago, naked. His adoration for you was replaced with guilt. Bokuto still hadn’t figured out how to approach the situation, how to tell you without you breaking off the engagement. He wanted nothing more than to watch you walk down the aisle in a few months, than to have children running around the two of you as you prepared dinner, than to grow old with you by his side. Bokuto was still unsure of what happened that night to cause him to slip out of a random person’s apartment in his clothes from the previous night.

The spiker was shook from his thoughts at the sound of your voice. 

“Are you going into the water?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I think I will just to cool off,” Bokuto replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Okay, I’ll join you in a bit, I just want to lay for a little longer,” you replied to him, closing your eyes again.

“Okay, baby. Take your time,” Bokuto said, placing a kiss on your forehead before starting towards the water. You giggled as you watched your fiancé run towards the ocean. Your laughter quickly died, however, once you saw his back.

Your eyes widen with a mixture of shock and confusion, racking your brain for an explanation for the long, red strips that lined your fiance's back, but, no matter how hard you thought, nothing came up. The past month had been too hectic for the two of you to ever get close to intimate. Tears began pricking your eyes as the realization that Bokuto had cheated on you settled in your mind. 

Does he know he has scratch marks on his back? Is this his subtle way of telling me he wants to end this? That I wasn’t enough for him?

As soon as Bokuto hit the ocean, the salty water stung his back. His initial confusion as to where the pain came from was quickly replaced with realization. He shot up at the water, turning to watch you get up from your seat. 

Maybe they didn’t see, he hoped. His hopes, however, were quickly crushed as his heart dropped to his feet. You began to gather your things, rummaging through Bokuto’s belongings until you found the keys to his car.

Panicking, Bokuto ran out of the ocean as fast as he could, cursing at the water for resisting his movements. He watched helplessly as you began walking back towards the parking lot. You saw. You saw the scratch marks, and now you were leaving Bokuto. The spiker’s worst nightmares were turning into a reality right in front of his eyes.

The dull shouting of your name from down the beach sounded in your ears. You ignored Bokuto’s incessant calls for you, the ache in your heart overpowering every emotion you were feeling. 

Bokuto ran through the sand as fast as he could, hoping to catch up to you before you left his life forever. His lungs and legs were screaming, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain of you leaving. Panic rose in his eyes as he watched you get into the driver's seat, starting the engine to his car. 

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you took a shaky breath, a weak attempt to try and calm your heart. You looked down at your engagement ring, memories of that night flashing through your mind, forcing another sob to rack your body knowing that your memories now meant nothing. Banging on the car window startled you as you looked up to find a panicked Bokuto. His frantic words were muffled as you watched him desperately attempt to stop you from leaving. 

“Please, y/n, roll down the window. Let me explain, please,” Bokuto blabbered, “Y/n, please don’t leave me, you have to let me explain. I love you! I want to marry you, and you only!”

Anger surged through your body as you scoffed at his words. Rage blinded your thoughts at the mention of your impending marriage. How dare he tell you he wants to get married after cheating on you? Your brain didn’t have time to process your movements as you pulled your ring off your left hand. You watched as a glimmer of hope flickered in Bokuto’s eyes as you began to roll down the window, only to have his eyes widen in pain and shock as you handed him your engagement ring.

“You’re really a piece of shit, Bokuto. You know that?” Tears began welling up in the spiker’s eyes as he stared at the piece of metal that laid in his hands. 

“No, y/n, please. Give me your hand, please,” Bokuto frantically pleaded, reaching for your hand. The ring in his hand belonged nowhere else except your ring finger. 

“Just stop, Bokuto, you’ve already ruined everything,” you scoffed out. As his eyes met yours, he was met with a whirlwind of hurt, shame, and pity. That’s when he realized. To you, he was pathetic. The love and adoration that made your eyes shine brighter than the sun was now replaced with hatred and pain, making them burn greater than the depths of hell.

Bokuto’s heart shattered into pieces knowing you would never love him the same, knowing he broke your trust. 

“I-,” Bokuto paused, unsure of what else he could say to get you back.

“I’m sorry, y/n” the man in front of you choked out. Bokuto felt helpless as he watched you roll up your window and drive away from him, leaving him in shattered pieces.

That night, when Bokuto finally returned to his shared apartment, the reality of the situation hit him. The empty aura filling the space that he used to share with you was all it took for Bokuto to fall onto his knees, becoming a shell of his former self. You were gone.

[goldentournesol]

The Receptionist and the Profiler (Seven)

Chapter Seven: Sweet Fulfilment

(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

The silence that fell upon them in Rossi’s backyard was so heavy, no one dared to break it. Derek was brave enough to stand and follow Y/N into the house, most likely to drive her home. The rest received the message and began to dwindle away, until only Ashley and Spencer were left.

Spencer absentmindedly fiddled with the top of his cane, still stunned into silence from Y/N’s heavy confession. He could feel Ashley’s eyes on him, but didn’t bother looking at her. His mind was racing ten times faster than it ever had before.

Ashley breathed out a sigh and kept it simple and straightforward, “Do you love her?” She asked softly. 

He wished to hear some malice in her tone, thinking it might make him feel something other than shock, but all he heard was curiosity. He didn’t even have to think to find the answer, but which answer was he willing to give?

“Yes.” He said, not even having the audacity to see the reaction it brought upon her eyes. 

He should have felt horrible for hurting Ashley, but he couldn’t bring it upon himself to feel anything but relief as he replayed Y/N’s words in his head. He heard her move to stand up and remained motionless as she left him on the couch. She went inside and Spencer deduced that she’d probably already taken her car and returned home. He’d have to find a different ride home but that was the least of his problems right now.

No one knew what to tell him as he passed them in the spacious living room a half hour later. No one knew where to start with him, but their unrelated hushed conversations continued on. Y/N had stupefied them all, but him especially. His heart should have been soaring because of her confession, but he knew he’d have to give Ashley a proper goodbye. She deserved one, even though he had quite literally used her in the most ungentlemanly of ways. He hadn’t let themselves get too invested in the relationship, though. He’d always kept her at arm’s length for fear of getting too attached. 

The next day, he’d promptly gone to her apartment and given a heartfelt apology. She’d let him know how hurt she was and that she was not going to be returning to the BAU. He still felt bad, but once again, he felt like he could breathe. Like the air knew its way back to his lungs. 

The weekend came and went, silence on both ends. Both lovers just stewing in their own pots. Both pots teeming with unadulterated, unconditional love and affection for one another. It could barely be contained at this point. Time seemed to float by and before they knew it they were back in the office. A new month had just begun. She felt new, she felt like she’d peeled off a layer of her skin, one that had been holding her back, trapping her within the confines of herself.

With the new month, she was called in early to have the routine monthly meeting with Hotch where they went over the itinerary of the next month. They liked to plan whatever they could given that half of the BAU’s job was unpredictable.

“So, I have here the form that Strauss asked for. Also, the 6th floor’s printer is a literal piece of junk and I’ve typed up a formal proposal so that maybe we could get a new one? I coordinated with Penelope about the funds and she says there are sufficient funds for a new printer.” Y/N said, handing Hotch a typed document. 

Even after all these years, her dedication to this job continues to blow him away. He’d come to see her as a work-daughter. He has taught her so much over the past few years and he’ll always have a special place in her heart. He nodded, glancing over the document.

“Great, I trust you and Penelope will pick an adequate printer.” He paused, sending her a smile. He noticed the slight glimmer in her eye, “I know you’ve been having a rough few months, Y/N, and it’s not technically my place to get involved in your personal life, as your boss, but as your friend, I hope you know that I am available to help you in any way I possibly can.”

Her whole face formed into a fond smile, “Thanks, Hotch and yes, I know.” She chuckled slightly.

“You are a dedicated employee and a wonderful person. If you ask me--” He was interrupted by his office door slamming open, showcasing an absolutely beaming Dr. Spencer Reid in the doorway.

“Hotch, I am so sorry to interrupt your meeting,” Spencer’s eyes flew from Hotch to Y/N, his attention now zeroed in on her. He leaned into the office, not fully entering, “are you free for dinner tonight?” he asked in a rushed manner, as if not getting a fast answer would somehow make him lose all the confidence he’d mustered up.

“M-me? Yes! I mean, yes, I’m free tonight.” Y/N answered, flustered at the interruption as well as the question. Spencer’s face split into a grin and he tapped the doorframe once awkwardly.

“Great, then...it’s a date.” He raised his brows and tried to lessen his grin as he snuck a glance at Hotch before gracelessly forming his lips into a line and scurrying out of the small office.

Y/N turned back to Hotch quickly with eyes widened with disbelief and a face totally failing to contain the utter joy she felt, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

Hotch only responded with a knowing smile at the precious interaction he’d just witnessed firsthand.

First dates were supposed to be awkward, however, their first date was anything but. Spencer had showed up with a fresh haircut, his shoulder length hair cut into a dreamy, swoopy style that sat along his forehead comfortably. It was so much more attractive than Y/N could outwardly-or inwardly- admit. His knee was now fully healed and no longer needed his cane which allowed them to walk around the city freely.

They’d both realized how stupid and blind they’ve been over the years. Y/N confessed to feeling especially stupid for staying with Anderson for so long, even when she had realized her true feelings for Spencer. Time had passed them by like it was nothing. 

Spencer, like the true gentleman he is, insisted he’d walk her home. He’d feel more comfortable knowing she was safe, not to mention that he was extremely curious about her new apartment. He hadn’t expected Y/N to invite him in, but of course she did, because that was who she was. She was warm and inviting, and if she was being honest, she didn’t want the night to end yet.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I haven’t really been in the right headspace these past few weeks.” She said, walking him inside. He took a look around and noticed a few unpacked boxes out of place but he definitely wouldn’t characterize it as messy. 

He chuckled softly and shrugged, “Trust me, it’s fine.” Her shoulders dropped with relief slightly and she returned his lightheartedness by smiling and flopping onto the couch.

“It’s been so long since I’ve lived on my own. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the silence.” Y/N said, but only realized how sad it must have sounded after she said it. Spencer took a seat next to her on her small, but comfortable couch.

“I feel quite the opposite, I think I’ve been living on my own for--for a long time.” He said, thinking back to his days but pushing away the especially dark parts. 

She dared to glance at him, seeing him in her space was so...different. So refreshing. It’s like this apartment needed Spencer in it for it to feel complete. Or maybe that was her heart speaking. Maybe both the apartment and her heart needed Spencer to feel whole. Her glance had long been forgotten and had turned into a longing gaze instead.

“Spencer, I-” She gazed at him, feeling the words get caught up in her throat before she could have had the chance to voice them. Besides, what words would ever be able to convey the way she felt towards him? 

Words escaped her when he looked at her like that--all soft eyes and a fond, lopsided smile, despite his curiosity at her interrupted sentence. She made the mistake of glancing at his lips, the lips that were so appealing, practically calling her name. The ones she’d caught herself daydreaming about for years and years on end. His proximity was intoxicating and before she could doubt herself, she closed the gap between them, her hands attaching themselves to the lapels of his blazer to pull him ever so slightly closer.

His lips were just as warm and inviting as she’d remembered them, but this time the kiss tasted sweeter, it was no longer tainted with suppressed guilt and confusion. His lips tasted like certainty. It was clear that she’d finally found what she’d been missing all these years. The gentle push and pull of the kiss was invigorating to them both. His slightly calloused hands found her flushed cheeks, each thumb delicately caressing the delicate skin beneath the pads of his fingers. They’d savored the kiss so much that when they pulled away, two, three, four tender, short kisses followed the initial one.

Almost as if they’d never get enough of each other. Like if the world was ending, it wouldn’t matter, they’d go peacefully, knowing that this is what it was like. That this is what quenched thirst felt like.

“I love you.” She murmured against his lips, breath uneven. She’d known it for as long as she could remember and he’d known it too, but she was past the point of timidness to admit it now. There’s no use in prolonging it, not when she was this certain. 

The pad of his thumb traced a line across her jaw slowly as he heard the words. His face couldn’t contain his smile, teeth almost clashing into each other from their closeness. His warm, amber eyes flitted to hers, visible comfort and reassurance filling his irises. He was transported back to Rossi’s garden when he’d first told her he loved her. She knew, she knew he loved her too, which is why it was so easy.

“I love you, too.” He murmured back, pressing another passionate kiss to her lips, as a quiet admission of love. She could feel the tears gather underneath her closed lids almost as quickly as relief flooded her chest.

They’d decided to keep things under the radar for a while, neither of them too eager to showcase their relationship to the world just yet, excluding Hotch of course. They did their best anyway--or at least they thought they did. Their recent smiley faces and cheery attitudes were not invisible to America’s top profilers and well, Penelope, who was perhaps the sharpest of them all, despite not being trained to analyze behavior like the others.

Exactly two weeks after their first date, Penelope cornered Y/N at her desk around lunchtime, right before the two lovebirds took their daily lunch walk. 

“Spill.” Penelope demanded, her colorful teapot earrings swayed, contradicting the sternness in her voice.

“What are you talking about?” Y/N gazed up at her with genuine confusion.

“Uh-uh, don’t give me that. I know something fishy is going on. I can smell it.” Penelope leaned in closer and began pointing fingers. Y/N barked a laugh.

“Garcia, nothing is going on. Please tell me what you’re talking about.” She laughed, amused at the sight of her friend being so outwardly nosey.

“You think I haven’t noticed you and Boy Wonder--” She was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat noise from Spencer to announce his presence.

“Garcia, Derek said something about making hot chocolate in the kitchenette and you know how he dips the sugar spoon back into the chocolate mix? Yeah, you should probably--” Spencer lied through his teeth but Penelope wasted no time in rushing off to the kitchenette, groaning about how she hated finding extra sugar in the chocolate.

Spencer caught Y/N’s eye and they both burst out laughing. They quickly made their exit, whispering about how close of a call it was with Garcia. Little did they know, Rossi had caught every little bit of the very tender, intimate kiss they shared before the doors of the empty elevator had closed, leaving him shaking his head at the obliviousness of the two. 

The team decided to make a game out of it very quickly when they all realized. They wanted to see which of them could expose the couple the quickest.

 JJ found extreme joy in trying to set Y/N up with one of Will’s friends right in front of Spencer.

“Come on! This guy’s totally your type, Y/N.” JJ pushed, showing her a picture of a man on her phone, leaning towards her over the top of her desk. Y/N laughed uncomfortably and glanced with panic at Spencer who was watching curiously.

“I don’t know, I d-don’t think I have a type, JJ.” She tried to brush her off, continuing to laugh in discomfort. Emily and Derek almost split their lips as they bit them to try and keep from laughing. They watched Spencer shift nervously in his seat.

“I’m just not interested.” Y/N said, “Thanks, though.” JJ finally gave in and accepted that she’d lost the bet.

Emily tried her hand at “girl-talk”, hoping that maybe Y/N would slip up and tell her about Spencer, but to no avail. That woman’s lips were sealed shut.

Derek and Penelope both tried to follow them around but Spencer and Y/N were far too cautious at work now. Derek actually had to convince Penelope to take the moral high road and refrain from tracking their devices or hacking into their messages.

After trying and failing for so long, the team finally gave up on trying to rat them out and instead decided to respectfully wait for their announcement. 

Y/N realized that she hadn’t technically invited anyone over to her new apartment and decided to throw a somewhat delayed “welcoming party” for herself. She’d cooked dinner, which Spencer did his best to contribute to, decorated the place nicely, and invited the whole team over.

“Thank you all so much for being here. I know this has been a long time coming. I’ve missed our little get-togethers and thought it’d be fitting if I finally host one, given that I now have my own apartment.” Y/N spoke from her place at the head of the dinner table which had barely ever been used before this night. It was a tight squeeze, but her heart soared as she saw the faces of her caring coworkers and friends staring up at her. They all lifted their glasses and gave her a silent toast of appreciation.

Spencer stood from his seat that was to the right of Y/N’s and cleared his throat, “Also, we have an announcement to make.” He timidly began, catching the eager smiles. “Y/N and I are, finally, together.” He waited for the cheers of excitement but nothing but an eerie knowing silence befell the dinner table.

Something clicked in Y/N’s brain as she spotted Rossi handing Hotch something under the table not-so-discreetly, “You all knew?!” She gasped in disbelief. The team broke out into fits of laughter.

“The whole time!” Garcia guffawed. Spencer and Y/N shared a look of incredulity before breaking into laughter themselves. Y/N shyly hid her face in Spencer’s shoulder as he wrapped an affectionate arm around her back.

“You guys thought you were so sneaky.” Derek threw his head back, laughing.

“Wait, so what was all that about?” Y/N asked, referring to Rossi handing Hotch something, “You guys had a bet going?”

“Technically there were two bets going. Everyone else was determined to expose you, which they all failed at, thankfully, while Rossi and I had a separate bet. I said that you’d announce it first and Rossi apparently had more faith in the team.” Hotch explained, smirking triumphantly at Rossi, who appeared delighted despite having lost the bet.

“Bet or not, you two deserve each other. I’m glad you two are happy together. To the lovely couple.” Rossi raised his glass and everyone followed in pursuit.

Spencer turned to Y/N to place a sweet but chaste kiss on her lips, leading everyone to cheer in response.

There was little he could compare to the feeling he had then, but if he had to, he’d compare it to being whole.

previous chapter/epilogue

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thank you all for joining the ride, feedback is always appreciated!

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.1

Author’s Note:  Short chapter.  My anxiety has gotten really bad and I’m busy so I could use some virtual hugs haha

"You dared to deceive an archon?"

The bellow hung heavy in the morning air, but Childe didn't flinch.  "Oh?  If my memory serves me correctly, you were all for my plan."  A slight excitement rushed within his chest at the thought of the possibility of fighting an archon today.  The joy he would feel! To have the privilege of testing his strength against a former god--

"Don't play games with me," Zhongli growled, his infuriated gaze sliding to the brat that was more than amused at his ill-composed state.  Archons, the consultant was trying so hard not to summon a meteor this instant--something his past self would've done without a moment of hesitation.  "You nearly--"

"I never claimed to be one of the good guys, sensei."  

Zhongli bit the inside of his lip until he drew blood and his eyes glowed a threatening yellow that was far too similar to the Exuvia.  He so desperately wanted to run Childe into the ground, to pummel him with the same spears that defeated Osial himself.  To do so would mean the complete and utter destruction of the harbor that sat below them, as they were on the hill behind the Liyue Qixing's headquarters.  The sun beat down on them harshly as if to mirror Zhongli's rage.

"I have my own agenda to fulfill, in the end."  Something somewhat apologetic flashed in the harbinger's eyes before he looked out to the vast sea, still unflinching from Zhongli's threatening aura.

"You have broken a contract.  A breach in trust.  Do you know what this means for you?"  I'll end him right here.  As a cost for the Tsaritsa to pay for breaching--No.  Zhongli took a deep breath to quell the raging tides of fury that swirled in his being.  No.  The Tsaritsa broke no contract.  I willingly gave Xiao after being played like a fool by Childe.  That's right.  Anger consumes all rational thought; Zhongli could not allow himself to make the same mistakes.  To do so would surely destroy any concept of safety for you and Xiao.

"I will fight to the death if you see it fit, Mr. Zhongli."  The corner of his lips curled slightly upwards after hearing the anger in the consultant's voice, but they downturned again as he turned to face the man.  "But, as I see it, I have learned from that...experience in Fontaine."

Zhongli's hard gaze remained unwavering as stone.

"Mezzetin..."  Childe returned to his view of the ocean.  "...has been in too dark of a place as of late.  I had deceived you in an effort to protect her from your yaksha; his presence seemed to have too negative of an impact on her.  So I thought, for her benefit, I would recruit her into the Fatui for her own safety.  From Xiao, and from the unrelenting forces of Snezhnaya.  She wouldn't have to live in fear of us as long as she was with us.

"But then another side effect showed up and I realized I had made a mistake for deceiving you, Mr. Zhongli.  I was mistaken to think that the yaksha was the problem instead of the distance between the pair.  That, dear sensei, is why I brought her here for the Lantern Rite."

While he's speaking from the heart, he is still being untruthful.  The archon stood unmoving, rage reigniting a little until a memory of Guizhong flashed in his mind.  He wouldn't bring her to Liyue without another motive.

"I'm speaking honestly, Mr. Zhongli."  Childe didn't even hold his signature smile across his lips; he was dead serious.  "While this excursion most definitely benefits the Tsaritsa, I only brought Mezzetin for her own wellbeing."

Zhongli still wasn't buying it, and he approached Childe until he was at his ear.  His low voice had to have dropped an octave lower while he maintained his composed but threatening demeanor.  "The next time you cross me or seek to harm those in our group, you will join Osial below Guyun Stone Forest."

The threat was enough to send a slight chill down Childe's spine, as reluctant as he would admit it, but the harbinger grinned darkly nonetheless.  After all, how could a measly chill overpower the thrill of battle he always got?  It egged him on, but...he did consider Zhongli a comrade more than a means to an end for the Tsaritsa.  One that he didn't want to lose, even if he was still pissed that the consultant had deceived him for being a human and not the Lord of Geo.

The archon began to brush past Childe, when the harbinger gripped his shoulder to keep him in place.  "Mark my words, Mr. Zhongli.  When the time comes, you will be relying on me once more."

What?  Zhongli rotated his head, but Childe had already let go of his shoulder and started to walk off.  He would've perceived the statement as the threat that it was, if it weren't for the different fluctuations in Childe's voice.  Was that melancholy he sensed?  Guilt?  Uncertainty?  Zhongli narrowed his eyes as he watched the harbinger scale off the mountain with his glider.

Perhaps that was enough to get through to him, Childe thought to himself without peering over his shoulder.  He didn't dare say too much.  The Tsaritsa will get what she needs for her war; what's it to her if he moves a few chess pieces across the board himself?  This is the only time he would ever allow to make such a daring exception.  As long as you and Aether didn't try to intervene down the line, then maybe he could bring you freedom...

That was a cry for help, Zhongli found himself dumb-founded. Childe's figure was now a spec in the distance and near touchdown in the plaza.

.......................

"Will you two cut it out already?!" You had thought that the subject had long passed, but apparently Aether had no mercy teasing you as he had always teased Paimon.  "We didn't do anything! How many times do I have to say that?"  You drew a deep breath to keep up with your mouth.  "Or do I have to whack it into you?!"

"Hm, dunno, Paimon thinks denial is even more suspicious than silence!"

"Ugh, why did you have to go and say we 'slept together...'"  Your head dropped into your hands in an exasperated manner, eyebrows furrowing together with the threat of an impending headache.

"Mortals make too large of a fuss over such trivial matters.  It was really nothing," Xiao scoffed at the traveler and the weird floating thing he still couldn't figure out.  It was then that he remembered your odd behavior in bed this morning, and how you were exhibiting the same redness now.  "Though...I do have a few questions.  Why do humans flush red at the most random of times?"

"EH?!"  Your hand instinctually flew to his mouth, nearly covering up--except the yaksha caught your wrist before you had the chance to prevent him from saying anything else that could be perceived the wrong way.  "What are you--?!  Just stop talking!"

"Like now," Xiao noted aloud, completely oblivious to the dumb-founded shock--or what could've been exasperated horror--on Aether's and Paimon's faces.

"Think of it as a defense mechanism," Childe approached the group, completely lacking the tension from earlier.  "Or as an indicator for lying."

"'Lying?'"  Xiao looked unconvinced as his eyes met yours.  You definitely didn't flush red when lying.

"Well, in some settings," Childe let out a chuckle before plopping his hand atop your head.  It wouldn't be inaccurate to think that Xiao nearly summoned his weapon and thought of slicing his hand off right then and there.  "Are you ready to go?"

"Go?  But you said tomorrow."  Lips pursed into an irritated pout as you turned to face him, nonchalantly pushing his hand off of you in the process.  "And Zhongli said something about a possible del-"

"The matter is settled."  Was it just you, or was his smile a little strained?

"And if we don't let you take her back?"  Aether stepped forward.  A few pedestrians glanced his way while passing the group.

"Oh? Is this your way of asking me for a fight? I'd be happy to humor you."

"You can't take all three of us at once," the boy took another step forward, this time lowering his stance as if he were ready to lunge at the harbinger.  Paimon egged him on.  

"Will you two stop with this macho contest?"  Your growl seemed to snap them out of it.  "No one is fighting.  I left with the harbingers to prevent that from happening."

"If the lady insists." Child winked at Aether, who scoffed in turn.  Then he faced you once more.  "As for the sudden change in our depart, I simply changed my mind.  Meet at the Northland Bank.  You have one hour."

.....................

"One hour?!?!" You were still fuming over the smug smile that had tugged at the corner of Childe's lips after the three of you parted from him.  "What...What am I supposed to do in an hour?!  I swear I'm gonna--"

"Paimon thinks we should take him out now!"  

"Why are you so bloodthirsty when it comes to Childe?"  Aether reminded her to keep her voice down, suddenly conscious of the stares you were all getting.

"Why aren't you?  He's lied to us, hurt us, and now he's hurting our friends!  Paimon simply can't accept that!"

Aether had long since tuned Paimon's voice out and was focused on you and Xiao instead.  The lack of eye contact between the two of you made it blatantly obvious there were some things to discuss privately. "We'll let you have some alone time."

"Huh?  Why're you leaving?" You spun on your heel with a confused expression, whirling to a stop once you faced the boy.  "Shouldn't we all be together before I--"

"You'd rather not be alone with your boyfriend before you leave?"  A confused, innocent tilt of the head sent you into another wave of embarrassment.

"B-boyfriend?!"

"Hold up!  You're telling Paimon you're embarrassed by THAT even though you two--"

"Boy...friend...?" Xiao's face twisted in clear disgust as if he had eaten something sour, the words being carefully sounded out. You were his companion.  What is this 'boy friend' term being flung around all of a sudden?  "I've lived for a millennia and you dare refer to me as a child?  Have you no respect for the adepti?"

"U-um!"  Your stammer caught the attention of his narrowed eyes, and his gaze softened slightly.  "Just ignore them.  It's not a bad term or anything of the sort," you sent a pleading glance Aether's way so he wouldn't reveal the meaning of the word.  Boyfriend...ah, I guess he is now...!  Despite your heated cheeks, a flutter of excitement pressed against your chest at the thought and you broke eye contact with the yaksha.

"Yeah, you two need to talk about that," Aether laughed before turning serious.  "Be careful.  If you need help, Xiao can hear you, right?  You just need to pray to him and--"

You nodded, "I know," and gifted him with a grim smile.  "Don't worry about me.  Focus on finding your sister.  I'll figure out a way to deal with the Tsaritsa sooner or later."  You pulled him into a tight hug, yanking Paimon out of the air to envelope her in one too.  "I'll come back."

"That better be a promise you won't break."

"I swear it on my Granny's grave."  The three of you released one another and stepped back.  You waved them goodbye as they ran in the direction of the funeral parlor before turning to Xiao.  "So..."

Xiao crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto his other foot, closing his eyes in a somewhat pensive manner.  "Is there anything you wanted to do before you leave?"

[suneatersupportsquad]

means something; dream

summary: dream loses his last canon life and no one has the heart to tell the reader. the reader is in denial, confused as to why their dream isn’t coming home.

dedication: @lemonlime-system​

genre: angst, romance

pairing: c!dream x reader

characters: c!dream, c!fundy, c!nihachu, c!ranboo, c!ph1lza, c!wilbur soot, c!sapnap

word count: 2.8k

warnings: angst, alcohol, character death

a/n: this is obviously not canon so please don’t take this as such. also i’ve never written dream before so i apologize if this is a little ooc. if y’all have any suggestions on how i can improve writing for dream (or anyone else), please let me know because i’ve only recently gotten invested in the SMP. thank you :))

important links: lizzy mcalpine - means something  masterlist

I saw your name on a street sign In the middle of nowhere And that has to mean something

You and Fundy had been messing around on the server all day, this being one of your boyfriend’s busier days. You didn’t want to let yourself miss out on any of the shenanigans on the SMP just because your boyfriend couldn’t be online, so you rang up Fundy and decided to muck around a little. The two of you had been sprinting down one of the paths when you had noticed a new sign at one of the many intersections. You stopped and crouched down to read it, Fundy watching you curiously. Suddenly, you giggled. “Hey, it says Dream Street,” you beamed, turning to face him.

“What?” he laughed, stooping down to inspect it. After a moment, he straightened back up. “Huh, I guess it does.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!!” you gushed, bouncing a little. “Would you mind taking a picture of me with it, Fundy? I wanna show him later.”

After laughing a little at your face-splitting smile, he agreed. You struck a cute pose beside the sign and smiled as the Dutch man crouched a little and took the picture.

I know your zodiac sign Me and Leos get along great And that has to mean something

“Are you on your astrology shit again?” your boyfriend asked as he laid across from you on the bed, an amused smile curling his lips.

“No,” you giggled, dragging it out as you opened an app on your phone. Co-star lit up your screen as you pulled your knees to your chest. “On a completely unrelated note, your birthday’s August 12th, right?”

Dream playfully rolled his eyes, nudging you with his foot. He busied himself with the strings of his hoodie, fake-ignoring you. Looking up at you, you raised your eyebrows. Well? Your partner huffed and cracked a smile. “Yes, my birthday’s August 12th.”

You hummed, nodding a little and typing some stuff into your phone. “Huh.”

Dream looked up at you, eyebrows furrowed. “What?” You looked up from your phone with the smallest, fond smile on your face. When you didn’t answer, he tried again. “What? What are you huh-ing about?”

Your smile grew a little as you started to speak. “It says that me and Leos get along great.”

“Oh my god-”

“You know what that means?” you asked, cheeks dusting pink.

The boy sitting across from you snickered a little, short puffs of air leaving his nose. “No, what does it mean?” he replied, deciding to humor you.

“Our love was written in the stars!” you exclaimed dramatically, flopping over onto his legs. “It was meant to be.” You beamed up at him, clasping your hands together.

Dream sat up, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. The smile that curved his lips was real this time, not playful or mocking or amused. It was warm and fond and home. “It sure was.”

But for some reason You’re not here And I refuse to believe That means something

You’d been there for hours, waiting. He said he’d meet you at the bench - your bench. He said he’d meet you and you’d go for a walk and watch the sunset like you’d been planning. You had your little picnic blanket and your backpack and your dinner all packed up, probably no longer warm. You’d been ready, giddy all day, excited to watch the sunset with your one love and look at the stars and make up stupid, fake constellations and laugh at each other’s antics. You’d brought the little flower you’d made out of a piece of scrap paper too while wandering around aimlessly earlier, another little paper craft for his collection. You’d been excited. So excited that you couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the dark feeling in the pit of your stomach; the feeling that something was wrong.

You refused to leave the bench, even as the breeze picked up and the sun neared the horizon. Sure, it wasn’t like Dream to be so late without giving you some sort of heads up, but maybe he was just this one time. Maybe he got caught up doing business with someone and he’d forgotten to shoot you a message. Maybe he forgot something and he had to run back home and grab it. Maybe he got stuck setting up one of his Classic Dream Surprises and had lost track of time. Maybe-

Many of your friends passed you on the path near your bench, gazing at you sympathetically but not stopping to talk. No one had the heart to break the news to you. Niki and Ranboo had lingered on the path for a little bit, whispering back and forth, debating whether or not they should check up on you. They eventually decided against it and went to go get Phil.

You bounced your leg and clutched the blanket a little tighter. It’ll be fine, he’s just running late.

I felt the way that you hugged me When I was broken inside And that has to mean something

He was gone. Wilbur was dead.

Your ears were ringing. The news had been on loop in your head since you’d received it. He’s gone, Y/N. He’s gone.

You and Wilbur had been relatively close - one could even go as far as to say that he was one of your best friends. Although you loved him dearly, you couldn’t say that you didn’t see it coming. Unfortunately, that didn’t dull that shock that came with the news. Dream had been out on business when you’d heard, and you’d been laid up in bed ever since. You refused to look in the mirror, already well aware of how rough you probably looked. Your eyes were swollen and red from crying, and you’d been wearing the same big hoodie all day. For the past two hours you’d been doing nothing but staring up at the ceiling, replaying every little moment you could remember from your friendship in your head. It hurt. Everything hurt.

You hadn’t heard when the front door opened. Or when Dream called out into the eerily quiet house, announcing that he was home. Or even the steps of your boyfriend approaching from down the hall. He opened the door, confused to see you in bed, puffy-eyed and motionless. You sat up in bed when you noticed a blur of green standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

The two of you stared at one another for a moment, the tension nearly palpable. Dream’s eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as he stared at you in a vain effort to assess the situation, neither of you breathing. He blinked and your bottom lip began to quiver. Concerned, he look forward and you let out a wail, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He caught you, kneeling awkwardly over you on the bed to hold you tight against his chest. “What’s wrong, baby? What happened?”

“He’s - gone,” you managed out between sobs.

“Who’s gone, honey?”

“Wil-” You hiccupped. “Wilbur’s dead.”

I felt the way that you kissed me When we got too drunk that night And that had to mean something

It was a good night; you and your boyfriend were sat around your candlelit coffee table having a celebratory drink. Celebrating what, you may ask? Well, no other occasion than Dream successful negotiating with a business partner. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why this negotiation was more important that your partner’s other successful business ventures, but his excitement was enough for you to give in.

You’d started drinking and talking around sunset. It was now nearing midnight and the two of you found yourselves dancing, slowly swaying to the tune of Dream’s humming. He lifted his chin from the top of your head, and you looked up to meet his gaze, curious. Leaning down, he rested his forehead against yours. “Can I kiss you?”

His breath fanned across your face, warming your already pink cheeks. Your lips curled in a lazy smile. He smelled like red wine and something smoky. You loved him like this, all close and vulnerable and yours.

Scrunching up your nose, you scoffed. “Can you kiss me?” you mocked playfully, leaning into him a little more. “Of course you can kiss me; we’re dating, love.”

“I just wanted to make sure,” he replied breathily, leaning down to lock your lips. Your noses brushed together, your eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. You clasped your hands behind his neck, leaning up the slightest bit on your tiptoes, and he held your elbows. The kiss was timid, but it warm and him and love and home. It was soft and sweet and comfortable. He kissed you like he was promising you the future, that everything would be okay. Like he was telling you he would always be there to take care of you.

When you pulled away, he moved to cup your cheeks, keeping your foreheads pressed together. For a good, long while, the two of you stayed standing like that, just swaying and smiling at each other.

But for some reason You’re not here And I refuse to believe That means something

You’d curled up on the bench by now, knees pulled up to your chest and wrapped in your picnic blanket. He’s coming, you assured yourself, chin tucked into your hoodie. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon and you’d resorted to tapping your foot against the wood of the bench in the awkward position. You didn’t bother checking your clock; you didn’t want to know how long you’d been waiting anymore. You just wanted to sit there and wait until your boyfriend showed up.

The paper flower you’d so carefully made for him had been cupped between your palms for hours now, probably sweaty and wilted. You’d thought about setting it down - but what if it blew away? What if you accidentally lost it?

You lost yourself a little staring out into the distance, trying to make out some kind of constellation in the inky darkness of the night. Sighing you slumped a little, trying not to let your paranoia get the best of you. At least you were both under the same sky. It was admittedly getting pretty chilly, but you didn’t care. You’d wait at your bench until Dream got here.

A hand gently met your shoulder, and you jumped. You smiled excitedly, relaxing. “Finally-” you started, turning to face him. Your smile dropped when, instead, you turned to be met with Phil’s sad smile. Confused and somewhat disappointed, you cocked your head. “Hi.”

“Hi, Y/N,” the older man greeted softly, moving around the bench. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Your brows furrowed once again, concerned. He seemed really serious. Scooting to one side, you patted the space beside you. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need.”

He sighed sadly at that, taking a seat next to you on the bench. “I have some news,” he started carefully.

“News?” you echoed, sounding a little empty.

Phil inhaled deeply, sensing that you already knew that something was wrong. “Yeah, I have some news for you.”

You blinked slowly, turning to face him better. “Okay, what is it?”

“Let me start by saying however you react to this is totally okay, alright?” he began softly, watching as you nodded numbly.  “So, uhm.” He paused, wringing his hands. “Dream’s gone.”

“Yeah,” you said as if it were obvious. “He’s on his way here.”

“No, Y/N-” He paused again, trying to figure out how to word it delicately. “He’s not with us anymore.”

You scoffed in disbelief at Phil’s stubbornness. “Yes, Phil, I know. He’s away on business.”

“Y/N.” A sigh escaped his lips as he covered his mouth with his hand, now genuinely afraid of how you were processing things. “Y/N, he’s dead.” He waited for you to respond but, instead, you just blinked at him. “There was a disagreement during their meeting and things got out of hand-” Another pause. “He’s gone. I’m so sorry.”

Every time I think too much It ends up crazy I don’t know how to not think about you Every time I trust my gut I think I’m crazy ‘Cause I don’t know how to put my trust in you

It had been a few hours since you’d gotten the news, and the denial has slowly faded away. He would’ve texted you if he’d been running late. He wouldn’t have left you there for hours and hours, waiting for him on a little bench.

After the initial shock had worn off, you’d gone home to process things, and to say that things didn’t turn out pretty would be an understatement. Once you had gotten home, you went straight to your shared bedroom and made a mountain out of his clothes. Grabbing a case of beer from the fridge, you sat on the floor and stared at his stuff for a long while. You only had two bottles, knowing that drinking yourself out of feeling probably wouldn’t be the best solution right now, but you still sat there nursing your drink as the tears silently rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel like you’d been here before.

By the time you’d heard the knock at your front door, the house was a mess. Picture frames were shattered, anything that belonged to Dream or reminded you of him was scattered about, his snacks were piled up on the kitchen counters, his shoes were stacked up behind the bedroom door - the entire house was in a state of complete chaos. And there you were, wailing and dragging yourself through the mess towards the front door. You swung open the door, which bounced off of an overflowing box of trinkets Dream had collected from you, and there was Sapnap standing awkwardly on your front porch.

You were suddenly aware of how rough you looked, red nose and puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks in all of your grieving glory. You’d put on a pair of his sweats and a random hoodie he’d gifted you for one of your anniversaries, both of which were obviously too big for you. You sniffled, looking up at the man sadly.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Sapnap asked softly, wondering what exactly was and wasn’t okay to ask someone who’d just heard that their partner had passed away.

Your eyebrows knit together and something inside of you broke. You tried to choke back a sob, but it came out as a sputtering cough as a waterfall of tears poured down your face. “No,” you wailed, slumping in on yourself and grabbing fistfuls of the extra fabric of the hoodie you were wearing. Losing a little bit of your self-control, you lurked forward and threw your arms around the other, who didn’t hesitate to pull you into himself. Rubbing circles into your back, he walked you back into the house. Navigating the mess of you trying to sort out all of Dream’s things was no easy task but, eventually, he led you to your living room. 

The both of you sat down on the couch, you still hugging him and him still rubbing circles into your back. He would hold you for as long as you needed, humming a little in a vain attempt to try and make you feel better. “I know it’s hard that he’s gone now,” he started, trying not to start crying himself. “But it’ll be okay, Y/N. I’ve got you.”

Do you think it means something That I wrote another song about you?

You sang softly, kicking your legs from where you sat at the edge of the cliff you’d found. It was some coping and recovery exercise Bad had recommended - writing songs or poems or stories or whatever about things you were struggling to come to terms with. You had to admit that it had helped some. When you’d first started with the writing, you’d chosen to start writing songs because you’d seen how happy Dream had been when he used to write music. You wanted a part of that. You wanted to understand what had made him so happy.

So you gave it a shot and here you were, singing a song you’d written for him, sitting on your picnic blanket and watching as the sun set, painting the sky with oranges and pinks. It almost felt as though he were right beside you, swaying along to the tune no matter how good or bad it was. You could feel him smiling down at you from wherever the hell he was. You were okay now. You were safe and recovering and taking care of yourself. Wherever he was, you’d make sure that he knew. He means something to you.

[agustdef]

Tiptoeing: Around You | m.

✰ Pairing: Christian Yu/Reader 

› Genres: Smut, Fluff, Mildest of Angst

✰ Rating: 18+ 

› Warnings: Language

✰ Status: Oneshot 

› In Collaboration: With @shadowsremedy​ who altered my plans a little, but I don’t mind it. Here is his fic, they’re both in the same universe: Tiptoeing: Around Love.

✰ Beta Read: @suhdays​ and @ppersonna​

›  Banner: @shadowsremedy​

✰ Summary: YN has pined after Christian for a while, but after one more kick in the butt by her best friend and an evening in the same room she finally acts on those feelings.

›  A/N: This fic was written for the sweet and mildly chaotic @dee-ehn​ for her birthday. You deserve the world, but since I cannot give you that we’re going to have to settle for some fictional content starring the ever handsome and rude Christian Yu. I hope you enjoy it love and I hope your day was great!

“Pft, you’re no better than me,” YN whispered into her phone.

There was a loud chuckle on the other side and then it stopped abruptly.

“Yeah, but at least I have a girlfriend. You’re out here acting like a lovesick puppy for a guy who is clearly into you. I don’t know how much sadder this can get at this point. It’s been months, YN,” Yoongi said.

Naturally, she rolled his eyes at his words. The fact that all of that was true mattered not. Or at least most of it was true, she wasn’t quite sure if Christian was into her. Everyone said he was and there were some signs, like flirting and being touchy but he was like that with a few of his close friends. That alone couldn’t be the indicator for his feelings. If they were feelings at all. For all she knew she and everyone else were seeing the signs of lust and not romantic feelings that led to a monogamous relationship.

At least that’s what the voice in her head told her when she got up the courage to think he actually liked her and planned to act on it. The pesky ass voice couldn’t let her have nice things.

Despite her clear acknowledgement of the factualness of what he said she couldn’t let him have the last word. It just wasn’t a true testament to their friendship if she didn’t try to gain the upper hand.

“Well, at least I’m not using fuckboy antics to get out of telling the person I’m dating I love them. You can’t use that psycho bitch, who tried to kill me might I add, as an excuse for why you don’t say it forever, Yoon. Especially since you know Jamie isn’t like that. But you gotta take the plunge and talk to her before too much time has passed and she won’t want to listen anymore.”

There was a brief silence before a dramatic sigh left his lips. YN could imagine the look on his face as he did it too. A mix of sadness, resignation, and annoyance at the fact that she was right. They wouldn’t be such close friends if they both didn’t hate being proven wrong while also understanding the other enough to know when it was the right moment to push it.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“What was that?”

“Okay! You’re right. But you need to stop tiptoeing around the subject and just tell him already. He likes you, let him know you feel the same way,” he said.

That got YN to sigh with about as much feeling as Yoongi had. Her body felt tired as she thought of having to speak those words, but she realized she really needed to get it over with. Even if she threw up in the process, it had to happen.

“Okay,” she mumbled.

“Hm? What was that?” he mocked her.

“Okay, damn. I’ll do it. So annoying.”

Again, he laughed and it made her happy to hear him not so down like he’d been for days. Of course, the laughter could only help so much, but it was better than nothing.

Biting her lower lip her head turned so she looked at the studio door where the man who she was losing it over was. He waited for her to bring in snacks and she’d stopped part way to call Yoongi about something unrelated to the conversation they had. One that she was so lost in that she didn’t realize twenty minutes more than needed had gone by.

“Shit, I have to go. I should have been back already. I’ll call you later. Love you. Bye.” she said.

Yoongi laughed. “Love you too.”

With that she hung up the call and took a deep breath before walking towards the studio door. Her hand grasped the knob for a few seconds as she took a deep breath and thought over Yoongi’s words. Maybe the all-nighter they planned was the right place or maybe it was the worst possible place for her to do that since she’d still have work to do if he reacted negatively.

When she finally opened the door and stepped in she’d decided to just see what happened. There would be no forcing herself to say anything about it or actively stopping herself. For once she’d go with the flow, with a bit of hope that she’d randomly get the urge to blurt it out like she sometimes did.

Upon her entry Christian’s head whipped up to look at her. He stared her down as she kicked off her shoes and made her way to her seat. The expression on his face didn’t give way to his thoughts, but she assumed he was confused as to why it took her so long to get back.

“You get lost?” he asked, taking the bag from her.

“Nope. Just had a phone call.”

Christian paused for a second, his brow raised in question.

“Yoongi?”

YN didn’t stop what she was doing for many people, especially when it came to work related things needing to be done. But Yoongi was her oldest friend and she’d hop on a plane without a moment's notice if he needed her. That meant that usually people could guess who she’d been talking to easily.

“Yeah. He wanted to whine some,” she said.

Her attention moved to the computer in front of her, which still held the work she’d left off on. Christian had messed with something a little, but for the most part had seemed to be focused on what went on upon his own screen. Something about what he was doing reminded her of a thing she’d forgotten with the clip was editing and despite the hunger that plagued her she went straight into work. Of course, she felt Christian’s eyes on her the whole time and heard him chewing away at the snacks in the bag but her mind hyper focused so none of that matter.

About fifteen minutes passed before her hands stopped moving and Christian used that to pull her chair for the desk. Her immediate reaction was to tell him off, but he shoved half of a sandwich towards her mouth and she found herself biting it without a thought. That brought a smug expression to his face, but she merely rolled her eyes and snatched the sandwich.

There was some small protest from him, but it stopped as she took another bite of the sandwich. YN was so hungry that she hadn’t really chewed anything or tasted it for that matter. She’d had little to eat throughout the day because they’d needed some last-minute shots and that left her running here and there. Anything consumed was burned off within an hour or two. Which is why Christian had offered they go get dinner first, but she knew a heavy meal would make her focus on editing harder. Food made her sleepy most of the time.

“Slow down,” Christian said, his Australian accent thickening with the worry in his tone.

But his warning was too late because she’d shoved the last piece into her mouth and swallowed it. Her hand reached for the other in his hand, but he gently pushed it away and handed her an opened water instead. She glared at him but drank down the water; though with the way he stared at her she stopped herself from downing half of it in a few seconds. Sips were slow and small until she felt her throat less dry.

“Now can I have the other half?” she asked, her voice sickly sweet and a pout on her lips.

For a moment Christian just stared his eyes focused on something on her face. At first, she wondered if she’d gotten anything on it while eating, but then she watched him bite his lower lip and his eyes flicker up to her’s and then down again. She thought that he had to be looking at her lips and her heart did a thing, though her mind wasn’t sure if it was him wanting to kiss her or something being on them. In a moment of uncertainty, she wiped at the lip and came up with nothing, but that seemed to be enough to snap Christian out of whatever trance he’d been in.

Without a word he passed her the other half of the sandwich and then got busy unwrapping his own. Silence followed with a few words spoken here and there when one of them stared at either screen long enough to have a question rise up. It was a good little break from YN’s thoughts about what happened minutes before and also got her mind ready for what she was going to do for the next several hours. Dread filled her, but knew it wasn’t impossible by any means.

“Ready?” Christian asked after finishing off his tea.

YN nodded and just like that they got to work.

Christian was to focus on piecing together a visual that would encompass the entire comeback the Dabin planned, while YN was focused on getting through the main music video. There were some others she had to do, but they were all shorter and didn’t need some of the magic that the main one did. Part of her cursed the team for being so damn ambitious, but it kept her on her toes so she couldn’t complain. Well, wouldn’t complain until she felt the urge to pull out her hair because something wasn’t working.

But for once she went through her edits without any real roadblocks. She navigated the things that they’d talked about adding and her own ideas for things to flow seamlessly. There were a few snags here and there, but they were nothing that she couldn’t fix in a few minutes or that Christian couldn’t help her with.

They’d long learned to work together fluidly so all of it came easily.

A few hours in YN pulled her headphones off and pushed her chair away from the desk. Carefully, she stood up and stretched her body since it got a little stiff from sitting in one position for so long. Once she’d properly given them the movement they needed a yawn ripped free from her lips and she felt a wave of tiredness hit her. Of course, she wasn’t done by any means.

“I’m going to get something hot and something with caffeine from the kitchen, you want anything?” she asked.

Christian didn’t respond so she poked him hard and repeated herself, he shook his head no without ever glancing her way. She knew he’d complain later, but she didn’t have it in her to pester him, so she slipped on a pair of slides near the door and ventured out.

The kitchen in the building DPR was set up in wasn’t too far from Christian’s studio, in fact she walked back fifteen feet to get to it. Something she was thankful about because despite being in motion she felt her body grow more tired as each second passed. It’s why she was quick to grab an energy drink from the fridge and down that thing. It was followed by the consumption of red ginseng because it always helped her in some way. Or at least she placebo effected herself into that thought. After she moved to make herself some hot chocolate. Thankfully, they had a Keurig, so she didn’t have to worry about heating water herself. By the time it was done she’d gotten a few large marshmallows from her hidden stash and happily deposited on top of the hot, chocolatey liquid.

With her energy drinks consumed and her hot beverage ready she made her way back to the room. She took care not to spill any of the drink and sat it down on the small table that Christian kept over on her side. It was where she sat all her drinks or food out of fear that she would knock it over if it were on the desk with all the equipment.

The moment her butt hit the chair there was a frustrated grunt and Christian all but threw his headphones down. His right hand moved to card through his hair and his eyes closed as he let out a harsh breath.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she moved closer.

There was no response, but she waited for him to get his bearings. Sometimes editing made you so annoyed that words failed to come together right away. There had been many instances where someone asked her questions and all they got in return was grunts or her starting a word only to scream halfway through.

A minute or two went by before he opened his eyes and spoke up.

“I just can’t get it to transition like I want. I’ve been trying different methods for the last hour and assumed I wanted to try out all the options, but they just fuckin’ suck. I don’t want it to suck. It needs to not suck.”

“I doubt it sucks, let me see,” she said as she moved even closer.

However, Christian was having none of it and knocked his chair into hers so she’d go back onto her side. He was stubborn as hell when in a mindset of defeat, so she had to be persistent. She knocked chairs with him a few more times before getting up. Before he could steady himself she pushed it back and it rolled almost to the door. Standing she leaned over and looked at what he had. Nothing sucked per se, but she could see what his issue was.

She got several clicks in before he protested again.

“I’ll just choose one and come back to it tomorrow or something. It’s fine, you have your own stuff to work on.”

“Shh.”

“Did you just shh me?” he asked incredulously.

Rolling her eyes she turned around to glare at him but froze up when she realized he was standing and doing it awfully close to her. His head was tilted down as he stared at her and with the way she’d held her head up high their faces where maybe an inch apart.

In an instant the atmosphere changed and YN did not know what to do. Part of her screamed to back away quickly and the other part of her wanted her to close the gap. The voices in her head were at war and then she noticed his eyes on her lips again and threw out all fear.

As she leaned closer Christian did too and soon enough their lips were pressed against each other. The initial kiss was chastise, something to test the waters, but once they got comfortable with it the intensity grew. Their heads tilted and their bodies pressed closer together. Soon enough YN’s fingers were threaded in his hair and his hands caressed her hips and ass.

With her lips on his all thoughts kind of left her, besides how soft they were and how she wished she’d kissed him sooner. And how she didn’t want to stop doing it.

Christian squeezed her ass a little too hard though and in retaliation she slowed the kiss and bit his lower lip. When he stilled she worried about if he didn’t like that, but then he released a sound akin to a growl. His lips were on hers again in seconds and she got so wrapped up in the kiss that she didn’t realize that he’d started lowering onto his chair and bringing her with him. She didn’t start to pay attention until he had her straddle one of his thighs.

He wasted no time with subtlety bouncing that thigh causing a bit of friction between her legs. It was bearable for a while but then he pressed a little hard and her lips parted as a gasp escaped them. Christian took that as a chance to slip his tongue into her mouth, swirling around hers. Though compliant with all his actions YN did try to gain control of the kiss, but all it took was another firm grazing of her crotch to have her moaning out. One bounce in particular had her pulling away from his lips.

But just because she stopped didn’t mean that Christian did, his lips went to kiss along her collarbone which was readily exposed in the off the shoulder top she wore. The feeling of them on her skin sent a shiver up her spine and inadvertently had her grinding down on his thigh, which only got her even more excited.

Her pleasure must have been apparent because once again Christian’s hands were on her hips. Unlike before though he used that leverage to move her along his thigh. With his lips still kissing across her shoulder and neck he moved her back and forth, ensuring he was pressing down enough that she could feel the friction despite her shorts.

The pace was slow at first, but it was enough to ensure that YN was growing wetter by the second. Her body felt on fire and it didn’t help when Christian began to suckle hickies onto her. She felt very stimulated and that’s what caused her to cry out in pleasure when he began to speed up the pace.

“Fuck,” she said.

“Oh, we’ll definitely get to that, but why don’t you take over and ride my thigh, baby? Get yourself worked up for me,” he whispered in her ear, slowly pulling away but not before biting gently on the lobe.

YN did not need to be told twice. Her hands moved to his shoulders and she sat firmly on his thigh before dragging herself back and forth. At first, she was frustrated because she couldn’t find the right amount of pressure to feel anything worthwhile, but before she could give up Christian started guiding her.

“Just like that. Yeah, you’re doing so good for me. Keep going and you can pick up the pace. Make yourself feel good,” he said.

There was no verbal response from YN besides the moans she released when the friction truly started up. Goosebumps covered her skin the more she got into, her body tingled and she wanted more. Craved more.

But the look in Christian’s eyes as he watched her get herself off was too good a sight. His eyes had darkened a bit and she could see the lust in them. It didn’t help that he was biting his lower lip as his eyes remained firmly on the thigh she was on. He was enjoying the show and she wanted to give him more, so she kept going and her pace quickened again.

Though her pace change was also out of desperation. She’d gotten worked up quickly and despite how good his thigh felt her orgasm felt out of reach. Getting closer to it was all she wanted, so she moved with a vigor that could get her there.

That didn’t fly with Christian though, his hands held her still.

“No, no. You are not cumming on my thigh. You’re doing that with me inside of you,” he said.

YN groaned. “Then get inside of me.”

That elicited a laugh from him and made YN finally look directly into his eyes. He appeared very amused by how she’d responded.

“I should have known you’d be just as bossy like this.”

Naturally, that ended with her lightly slapping his shoulder which brought on more laughter from him. She was ready to get off his lap after that but yet again he held her in place.

The thing was that unlike before the expression on his face was softer and less like that of a man who said she would only cum on his dick.

“I know this is ruining the moment, but before I bend you over this desk and fuck you until you can’t walk I want to be very clear with you. I want to be with you. This is not me just fucking you because I find you attractive as hell. Got it?” he said.

Though she wanted to roll her eyes at his delivery she couldn’t help but smile as happiness filled her. Hearing him say it made her night and she would stay like she was or cuddled up to him for the rest of the evening, but there was a persistent problem still between her legs.

She leaned forward and leaned towards his ear to whisper, “And I want to be with you, but we can discuss that later. For now you have a problem to fix and a lot to prove if you think you’re going to put me on bedrest tomorrow.”

It didn’t take long for him to get her off his lap. He barked orders about getting off her shorts and panties while he ran out of the room for a moment. By the time he returned she was undressed on her lower half and bent over on the desk. Her legs were spread slightly and it gave him the view of her glistening pussy, just like she wanted.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

YN tried to keep the laughter from escaping her at his reaction knowing he’d probably tease her if she did. There was no time for all that, she needed him inside her as soon as possible.

Once she heard the sound of pants unzipping and dropping she felt herself perk up. Her ass rose up a little more and that seemed to pull another groan from Christian who sounded like he was fumbling with something behind her. She was going to ask if he needed help but then she felt the head of his dick press against her slit and she moaned.

Slowly he moved it between the lips of her pussy causing her to push back wanting more. The feeling was so good, but she still needed him to go further. Thankfully, he didn’t keep her waiting for long. Before she could fully process it he’d pushed inside of her completely. There was some discomfort from the sudden intrusion–one that was the first of its kind in a year–but he didn’t move and she adjusted fast. The stretch still felt a bit odd, but not something she hated. In fact, she loved the feeling of being full of him.

“You can move,” she said.

He didn’t need to be told twice because in the next second he was moving at a moderate pace. His hips moved back and forth, while one hand on her back kept him balanced.

YN’s eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the feeling of him. She’d been worked up enough that she was more than prepared for him, but also enough that she was sensitive. It wasn’t the same level as if she’d orgasmed, but it was enough to have her feeling extra with every stroke.

After several thrusts at that speed Christian suddenly sped up out of nowhere. It was enough that her hips moved away from the desk and hit against it every time he slammed back into her. It was a little painful, but the feeling of his dick pushing into her and hitting just the right spot made up for it. Her moans had been soft before, but with each thrust she grew louder.

At some point she was almost screaming out because of the brutal pace, but that didn’t mean that he slowed down. In all honesty it felt like he went harder and she loved every second of it. Wanted him to never stop.

And because she was so focused on how he felt she didn’t notice the tightening in her stomach and the way she was close to the edge until she was over it. Her eyes opened wide as her orgasm crashed through her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she said.

Despite the clear indication that she’d come Christian didn’t stop. His pace slowed down some, but he kept pistoning into her. As she finished the last moment of her high the sensitivity set in, but she found herself building up again. Her pussy wanted a break, but she wanted him to keep going.

While she was ready to stay bent over for him until he came, Christian had other plans. Using his right arm he wrapped it around her torso and pulled her up so her back was against his chest. That hand moved down to rub her clit, something that had hips bucking because it felt like too much. She squirmed a lot, but then his left hand came around to wrap around her throat and she stilled.

“You’re going to give me another one, right?” he asked, though she knew it wasn’t up for discussion.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.”

Without another word spoken by either of them he kept her how she was and continued to thrust into her, but his intense pace from before returned. His hand continued to rub and pinch her clit, which caused her to vibrate in pleasure. Plus, his hand remained around her throat squeezing every so often and she loved it more than she cared to admit. So much that her next orgasm came a little quicker than the last.

There was a weird feeling in her stomach though, but she had no time to assess it before she came. Her pussy spasmed and then she felt an intense pressure before she felt her thigh grow wet.

She’d squirted all over his dick and herself.

“Fuck, definitely going to have to do that again some other time,” he murmured.

YN didn’t even have it in her to respond to him, she just relaxed against her body as he continued fucking her. It took a minute or two before his precision slipped and she heard him moan out. He didn’t stop until he finished cumming and then he just stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily against her.

Three minutes passed with them like that before YN said something.

“We can’t stand here all night. Also, I’m so tired from this and working, we gotta rap this up.”

Christian laughed, but pulled out. From there YN leaned against the desk trying to orient herself. In that time Christian had discarded the condom and pulled his pants back up. He helped her do the same, though he didn’t bother fixing her pants completely. H

Carefully he turned her around to face him and smiled at her clearly exhausted, but happy face.

“How about we take showers, get changed, and call it a night? If you want you can stay at mine and we can start first thing in the morning,” he said.

Not one second was wasted debating it, YN just nodded in agreement.

“If I can shower and sleep I’ll be happy.”

That made Christian smile wider and then he leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips. He moved away to lead the way out, but YN took one step before reaching out to grip his arm. Worry colored his expression and then when he noticed the way her legs seemed to shake a little a smirk made its way onto his face.

“What was that about me having to prove something?” he asked.

“Fuck you.”

[animatedarchives]

LIFELINE

— 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀

author’s note: so i had this dream a few days ago and i wrote this self-indulgent comfort fic. if you’ve experienced this before, i’m so sorry for the hurt you’ve been through and i’m here if you need to talk :) i hope you like it <3

genre: BiG aNgsT, comfort fluff wew

warnings: toxic relationship (mental abuse, manipulation, guilt tripping etc.), slightly coarse language

word count: 2.1k words

“Argh, I missed again!” you whined, the water gun gently hitting your thigh as you swung your arms down in defeat. You only had one last chance to knock all 5 metal cans over, and you knew you’d never make it. You sighed as you glanced at the life-sized teddy bear you’d been playing for, reluctantly giving up the idea of ever being able to hug its plushy form. Kenma watched you silently, gazing at you the same way you were looking at the bear: with intense longing.

“Here, let me,” he said gently, reaching for the water gun in your hand. His fingers briefly brushed yours and your breath hitched, turning away slightly so he couldn’t see the blush creeping onto your face. You had both been friends for the longest time, but you knew it was more than that. Although neither of you had explicitly confessed, there was a silent understanding that you both harboured feelings for one another, but were too shy to do anything about it.

You watched sheepishly as he brought the gun up against his shoulder, looking into the crosshairs. His eyes fixed themselves on his target, pupils narrowing into cat-like slits. You loved seeing the competitive side of Kenma. The resolve in his eyes, the fierce air of determination and the silent power he held was so different from his usual nonchalant self, you couldn’t help but be allured.

Finally, he pulled the trigger, releasing five precise spurts of water. You barely had time to process what happened as you heard the metal cans clattering to the ground. His muscles relaxed and he smiled with satisfaction, his usual laid-back self returning while you stood there in utter disbelief.

“Kenma, that was amazing!” you exclaimed, turning to face him. He watched as your eyes sparkled, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. It was a sight that warmed his heart, and something he missed so dearly. Reluctantly tearing his eyes from yours, he turned back to the stall owner to claim his prize.

“I’ll take the bear, please. The big one in the back,” he said, pointing to the one you wanted. You squealed in delight as Kenma retrieved the toy and handed it to you. Bursting with child-like joy, you pressed your face into its large squishy head as you hugged it, your body swinging from side to side. Kenma watched you amusedly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. He loved seeing you like this, the brightness you emanated rivaling that of the sun. Your genuine joy was one of the little things that truly made him happy, and it was blissful moments like this that he wished you could live in forever.

Beaming, you bowed at the stall owner to thank him, eager to explore the rest of the carnival. However, as you turned around, your eyes landed on someone in the distance and your heart seemed to stop. Gone was the excitement bouncing within you, now replaced with an unsettling heaviness. The light in your eyes was being sucked away, dissipating into nothingness. Sensing the air around you shift, Kenma looked at you concernedly, then followed your line of sight. And there stood the person he hated the most, the one who had caused you so much hurt and emotional turmoil for two years: your ex-boyfriend.

“Well well well, look who it is,” he smiled smugly as he sauntered towards you. His eyes flickered to Kenma, who stood behind you, and he laughed bitterly. “Moved on to another boy already? You always were such a slut,” he spat. Kenma tensed up behind you, clenching his jaw and balling his fists. He was never the type to be violent, but your ex’s disgusting remarks made him want to punch that sick smirk right off his face.

“P-please go away,” you whimpered. Your voice was strangled and your chest tightened as the overwhelming scent of your ex’s cursed cologne invaded your nose.

“Awww, but why? You wouldn’t want to break my heart again now, would you?” he pouted in mock sadness.

This was what you dealt with for two years: him taking advantage of your kind heart and twisting it for his own entertainment. He criticised every little thing that you did, from what you wore to who you hung out with. He convinced you that it was your fault you upset him, that it was you who failed to please. You began to question every decision you made, doubting your ability to make the “right ones” and eventually resorting to asking for his permission instead. He had you choking on a leash, but you were too nice, too forgiving, to acknowledge his manipulative ways. You were losing yourself and eventually became an empty shell of the cheerful girl you once were, no longer taking pleasure in the things you loved. It had been six full months since you came to your senses and broke up with him, trying so hard to regain the light you had lost, with Kenma encouraging you every step of the way. It had taken so much time and effort to recover from the toxic relationship. Yet at the mere sight of him returning into your life, everything came undone in an instant.

“What’s the matter, darling? Cat got your tongue?” he hummed. You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. You desperately tried to move, to do something to show he no longer held that power over you. But your mind was plagued, and your body remained frozen in the presence of your abuser.

“Oh darling, there’s no need to be scared,” he said, cocking his head to the side. He took a step forward and you couldn’t help but tremble in fear. Dark memories from the past you tried to bury resurfaced as his menacing gaze bore into you. You shrank back in terror and your back hit Kenma’s chest, causing your hold on the huge teddy bear to loosen. The impact pulled Kenma out of his heated thoughts, his eyes clearing to reveal the pointed daggers within them. He gently wrapped an arm around your waist and twisted your bodies so that he was between you and your attacker.

“That’s enough,” Kenma’s words cut through the toxic atmosphere. The change in his demeanour was subtle but terrifying. His voice remained quiet, but now held an edge that was sharper than a sword. His gaze pierced through your attacker, cutting him down to the bone.

Your ex scoffed, unintimidated by Kenma’s physical build. “No, she knows exactly what she did,” he hissed, looking straight into your eyes. “You love to toy with people don’t you darling? Go on, say it. Admit it, you bitch!”

You don’t recall the mistake you made; you only knew that you’d made one. A baseless sense of guilt consumed your mind, and all you could think of was how horrible of a person you were as you looked down at the ground in shame. The lack of words leaving your mouth angered him further. He took a step towards you, but stopped short as Kenma suddenly grabbed his forearm.

“I said,” his grip tightened as anger boiled inside of him.

“That’s enough.”

Kenma looked at him through the strands of hair that fell across his face. He was like a feline crouching behind the tall, dry grass, eyes fierce and unblinking as he stared down his prey. His unrelenting gaze made even your ex shudder, his mind going blank as Kenma seethed silently.

“Leave.”

Kenma’s voice was practically a growl at this point, the finality in his voice apparent. His golden orbs glowed like a predator’s, daring your ex to challenge him. Although no one said it, it was obvious Kenma owned the court and held the game in the palm of his hands.

Knowing he was beat, your ex yanked his arm out of Kenma’s iron grip and scoffed. “Whatever. You’re worthless, anyway,” he sneered at you before walking away. You didn’t know what you did, but you felt like you deserved it. That’s all you ever were anyway: just another piece of garbage.

With the threat no longer present, Kenma eased up and turned to you, significantly concerned for your mental and emotional wellbeing. “Are you alright?” he asked, unable to hide the urgency in his voice.

“I- I think so,” you stuttered. But you weren’t. You knew you weren’t. You were slipping again, back into your old submissive mindset as your head spun with your ex’s lies. And Kenma could see it, the thought of your incited self-hatred causing his knuckles to turn white.

“You deserve so much more than him, Y/N,” he said. You smiled weakly at his words but couldn’t bring yourself to agree.

“I don’t know… Maybe he’s right,” trying to keep your smile, only to fail miserably. “Maybe I really am worthless… Maybe I’m just an awful human being… Maybe…” you thought aloud, voice breaking as you started to believe his words. This experience took you back, remembering how your ex would constantly poison your conscience, leaving you to cry into your pillow every night as your thoughts consumed you alive.

“Y/N, stop,” he said, reaching for your arm. You flinched involuntarily, the action causing Kenma’s heart to break. “Y/N, look at me. Please,” he begged. You slowly lifted your head to meet his gaze, a thin film of moisture forming over your eyes as you slipped further into darkness.

“You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. You are beautiful and gorgeous, made perfectly as you are. You are the furthest thing from a bad person. He’s a liar, a manipulator and a toxic person overall. He’s the bad one. He’s the one that doesn’t deserve you,” he said, desperate for you to see reason.

You looked into his eyes sadly, searching for something to hold on to, to stop you from spiraling down deeper into your thoughts. And then you found it. Something that was different between him and your ex. Something that was always there but Kenma tried to hide. It was his unwavering love for you.

Something finally clicked and a spark was ignited between you two, causing your heart to beat faster. You could barely understand what was happening, too many things going on in your head at once. But one thing was certain. You knew the person in front of you was genuine.

Trustworthy.

Safe.

“Kenma… I…” your words lost their sound as your faces inched closer. Your eyes drifted down to his soft, thin lips. Your mind was screaming at you, saying that you didn’t deserve his affection and that you were completely unlovable. But your heart argued back, eager to prove them wrong as it reached out for the one it knew it could call home.

You watched earnestly, breath caught in your throat as his lips got closer and closer to your own. Finally, your eyes fluttered shut, your sight unneeded as you savoured the flavour of his sweet lips against yours. The bear you were holding was long forgotten as your fingers unfurled and dropped it to the floor. Your heart was now set on a new prize, your hands moving up his arms and clenching the fabric of his jacket underneath them.

Your reciprocation to his actions made him brave; he kissed you harder, more intensely, as he rested his palms firmly on the curve of your waist. It was an area tainted by the hands of your previous boyfriend, but Kenma’s touch was so pure, so gentle, and so loving, that all you could do was melt into his hold.

Your lips parted all too soon and he rested his forehead against yours, quietly gasping for air. The jarring voices in your head quietened and eventually disappeared as Kenma’s delicate fingers intertwined themselves with yours.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he chuckled, his warm breath adding to the heat on your cheeks. “I love you, Y/N. Every single piece of you. You are absolutely perfect in every way imaginable and I don’t ever want you to believe otherwise.”

You gave a genuine smile as you grasped onto the lifeline of hope Kenma was throwing out to you in the sea of darkness. You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face into his shoulder.

“Thank you. I love you too, Kenma.”

Your muffled whispers against his clothes put a gentle smile on his face, his heart soaring as you returned his affection. Kissing the side of your head, he embraced you tighter, wanting to show you how deeply you could be loved.

Breathing in his comforting scent, you came to a realisation.

It wasn’t the bear you longed to hug the most that day.

It was Kenma.

© written and published by animatedarchives 2020. please do not steal or repost. thank you.

[wing-ed-thing]

Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter IX)

Synopsis: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty nightlife. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the underground will help you both come to an understanding.

Word Count: 2,877

Warnings: Implied sexual themes, adult themes, language

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI 

Notes: Short chapter this time, sorry. A lot has been going on, but next chapter is a big juicy one! Happy Birthday @altogetherweathered! You’ve really been here since the beginning and you’re support means so much!

A deep exhale. Yor cleared your mind completely, focusing only on your deep inhales, then exhales. All you could see was black behind your lids. Another breath and your fingers twitched against the firm weight under your palms. The energy washed over you, sparking in your fingers. The powerful numbness reached your wrists, then your elbows.

“Take it slow.” Your brow scrunched as you felt the chakra retreat a little lower before shooting up to your shoulders. A spark cracked painfully under your palms. “Sorry…” The apology came low and softly.

Another exhale. The connection sparked in your chest, shooting straight to your heart. You could feel the energy circulating, running through every fiber of your being. It loaded warmth into your system so real that you could almost feel the heat on your skin. You sent your own messages, shooting out feelings of zen, peace, and calm. Your eyes twitched and you focused harder on maintaining the connection. A twitch in your brow. A hiccup in the circulation. Your brows furrowed, but each crease in your forehead led to more holes, the link slipping out of your control. The chakra probed into each crevice in your mind, seeping in and pulling thoughts and memories with reckless abandon.

Parts of your childhood sailed down the stream of consciousness. Your father. Your old family pet. Ramen on Tuesdays. The waterfall outside of the village. Minato becoming Hokage.

You resurfaced with a gasp. You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants. Guy sat, legs crossed and concerned, in front of you. His palms still turned upwards. The corners of his lips slumped.

“Maybe we should take a break.” You opened your mouth to dispute him. Guy spoke your name with a certain amount of sternness.

Guy looked at the clock. He could hardly believe it. And if you hadn’t been sitting in front of him, he wouldn’t have. Two and a half. Two and a half hours since you had burst through the partition door. Two and a half hours since you marched up to him, hands on your hips. He’d never forget the words you said.

“Okay.” Guy remembered your hands firmly on your hips. “I’m ready. I’m ready to tackle this mission the right way.” He recalled your tight lips. “Would you help me? Please.”

Your huffing brought Guy back to reality. Your lips vibrated as you did so.

“I’ll grab some waters.”

You rose from the couch, shedding your hoodie as you did so. You and Guy had been working HEAVEN for a little over a month now with no promising and accessible leads. You were sure that they were out there, but you certainly weren’t getting lucky as of late. So while you waited, all there was to do was practice. You filled up two glasses. Guy leaned against the back of the couch, sticking an arm out to take his drink which you handed him. You circled around to the other end, taking your seat once again. This had become a nightly routine for the two of you.

“I think you’re getting better,” He remarked.

“Really? ‘Cause it doesn’t feel like it.” You fanned yourself with the TV guide. “I feel like I keep slipping easier and easier.”

“It’s a powerful jutsu and I have deep recesses of strong chakra. I’d be surprised if mastering it was easy.” Guy placed his empty glass on the coffee table. Practicing this jutsu took a lot of chakra out of him too. “But really, you’re improving. It’s stronger, I can tell that you have more control.”

“I’ll need to have all the control I can get if we get into trouble with someone competent.”

“Who? Like Orochimaru?” Guy hummed. You sucked on the cheek. Your head tilted to the side.

“Well we don’t know it’s Orochimaru.” A sip.

“We’re pretty sure, though.” You rolled the glass between your hands, watching as the creases in your hands left prints on the cold surface.

“I dunno, Guy. I just have a feeling about this and my feeling is that this isn’t Orochimaru’s doing.” Guy bit back a small smile. You’ve been using his name as of late.

“All signs seem to be pointing to him.” He told you with a shrug. “But you’re right, we should wait until we have some more evidence.” He shifted cross-legged on the couch cushions. He held his hands out, wrists resting on his knees. “Ready to go again?”

You set your drink down.

“Yeah, sure.”

You mirrored his posture. Closing your eyes, you took a breath. Your hands slipped onto his, surrendering your vulnerability and your mind.

The chakra cracked like static, excited as it flowed from you. The loading occurred quicker this time, though not by much. The frigid heat rose in you, occupying chakra point after chakra point. You felt it well in the center of your forehead as the energy spread to your core of your chest. Guy spoke your name softly, almost in question. Your brow twitched, but the circulation remained uninterrupted. You felt his warmth across your network being kept at bay.

“I know it was a long time ago, but you haven’t heard from that Kabuto, have you?”

Immediately, you faltered. The connection continued, probing into your soul. You tried your best to keep it at bay. You fed through unrelated memories. Lunch at the Academy. Late night workouts. It flowed into Guy, a sense of peace spreading across his skin.

“No.”

The corner of his lips twitched. Something was off, but he couldn’t place it.

***

Working HEAVEN could hardly be considered a task that could be run like a well-oiled machine, but somehow both you and Guy fell into a rhythm that seemed to work. Guy ran a rag over an empty space at the counter of the bar. A new customer quickly took the seat. With a flick of his wrist, a napkin flew in front of the patron, gently floating down onto the hard surface in front of his folded arms. The man looked up, impressed.

“What can I get for ya’?”

Daisuke emerged from the hall to his office, nodding happily at the state of his business. He was absolutely thrilled to say the least, especially with his new hires. Guy handled the bar with such skill, that HEAVEN quickly started to rise as one of the hottest clubs in the Sound. And as he predicted, Daisuke’s new hostess seemed to leave all her clients like they had just awakened from a sweet dream. Business was booming. The club was busier than ever and the hostesses were more exhausted than ever. Together, they worked a sea of men, all telling themselves that the commission would make the hassle of taking on more regulars was worth it. A hired band played upbeat music over the low roar of chatter.

Guy noticed Daisuke’s appearance at the side of the bar, his face lighting up. He gave an exclamation, juggling bottles in his usual show.

“Ah! Daisuke! Care for a drink?” Guy called out jovially, bouncing a bottle of liquor off of his bicep.

“Not at the moment, Genki. I think I’m still a bit tipsy from what you made me earlier!” Daisuke laughed deeply. You watched the interaction out of the corner of your eye, tucked under the arm of a client. Guy didn’t miss a beat, pouring a fancy concoction into four glasses at once.

“Well, let me know, Boss!” He said, letting his Might Guy show for a moment in his signature thumbs-up pose. Daisuke mirrored the gesture.

“As long as you don’t drop any of my product!” And with that joke, he walked off into the club. Your focus returned to your customer, almost done with your session.

You made momentary eye contact with Guy. Slowly, you moved a piece of hair behind your ear. Code. Guy flicked his bangs to the side. He finished the round of drinks in front of him, putting them on a tray for the next hostess before servicing the bar patrons. One part of being a ninja that Guy silently thanked was the ability to multitask quickly and efficiently. He turned out order after order, his mind almost turning off as he did so. Almost. After all, making drinks was hardly his current focus.

Guy studied a man at the edge of the bar with his peripheral vision. He had been there a while and looked to be a high ranking sound ninja. Guy slid him his refill and the stranger gave him thanks. Sensing a break in his work, Guy took a moment to stop.

“All drinks tonight, my good friend?” He mused. The customer hummed. “There are so many beautiful women here tonight, you shouldn’t have to keep me company.” Guy chuckled. Even in his acting, he found it hard to play into his surroundings. Much like you, Guy turned to you to help find ways of his own to circumvent his comfort zones. The man let out a snicker.

“My girl ain’t here tonight.” He took a large gulp of his strong beverage. Guy busied his hands with a monotonous task, but looked up in feigned shock.

“You’ve tried out the new one, haven’t you?”

Guy couldn’t help but cringe on the inside. Despite working this mission for quite some time, he still had trouble adjusting to the language. He nearly gagged. Tried out the new one. Like he spoke about a pair of pants or some other object. But, he would put his reservations aside. He would be damned if he didn’t act like a professional, after all. Guy glanced over at you, partially deliberate and partially to remind himself to find comfort in your coaching.

The patron followed Guy’s gaze. He leaned against the bar as he craned his neck, his glass gripped loosely by the top between his fingers. He clicked his tongue.

“Eh, no. I have not. What’s she like?” Guy lined up a few groups of drinks on a tray. “Aside from drop dead gorgeous of course.”

“Spitfire if I’ve ever met one. Intelligent, feisty-” The ninja scoffed.

“Ah, nah I pass on difficult women.”

“Not difficult.” Guy leaned on the counter. “Sexy, confident. Her name literally means ‘dream’, you know. Trust me, you’ll walk out of here in a daze.” The man looked up from his drink with sceptical amusement.

“Either you’re a really good salesman or she was one hell of a lay.”

“Don’t kiss and tell, Genki.” Your chide cut through the atmosphere.

The attention of the bar fell to you as you sauntered up. One of the patrons yielded his seat to you and you thanked him, dragging one hand down his cheek. The chakra flowed, undetectably, from your fingers. The man’s face turned red. You slid onto the stool which happened to be next to Guy’s target.

“I’d never dream of it, Yume.” Guy chuckled and you gave him a subtle nod. You could take it from here.

Guy returned to his duties at the bar, putting on a show to distract the crowd from your interrogation. One hand on the ninja’s wrist and he wouldn’t suspect a thing. Guy watched your handiwork out of the corner of his eye. You had really grown in your training. Even to his elite senses, your jutsu was near undetectable.

And client after client, it went exactly like that. Guy began to learn what characteristics to look for and you began to extract information quicker and quicker. Granted, most of the information did not turn out to be anything useful. You sorted through the confessions in a mental list. Married. Alcoholic. Gay. Cheater. It had been far too long since you and Guy got a break.

The night creeped up on you. The longer you worked, the less you seemed to acknowledge time. Drink after drink and client after client, the staff of HEAVEN worked into the night. And with just an hour before closing the pack came in as they usually did.

The group of Sound ninja seemed to have grown in size since you had last seen them the day before. They hounded the bar, Guy scrambling to prepare all of their orders. You had remained at your pace on the far end, stalking the group with your eyes in preparation to pull at a weak link. After all, they would be leaving for the back room soon and no time could be spared.

You spied Shou on the other side of the bar and playfully motioned him over.

“Shou!” You greeted grandly with a smile, arms out to embrace him. “When’s the next time you’re taking me away from this place?” Shou fell into your arms, one hand lingering around your waist.

“Soon. Don’t be impatient, now.” He spoke with his usual sternness, but you could detect the faintest playfulness in his voice.

“Hey, lover boy!” Another soldier called from a few stools down. He leaned back, holding out a glass. “Get over here and get your fuckin’ drink.”

Shou laughed, waving off his friend before turning to you for a kiss. Your hand came up between the two of you, obstructing his lips with two of your fingers.

“Go get your drink, baby.”

Guy eyed you, but swiftly turned away.

The hour flew by. As clients left, more and more hostesses came to mingle around the bar, hoping to milk some extra commission money. But the group decided to turn into the back room around closing. The women broke away together, varying levels of sour. In the migration, you spied the same woman who typically came with the group finishing her drink at the end of the bar. As the men left, she threw down a few ryō before exiting HEAVEN like every time before.

Except this time, you were curious, curious enough to follow. Wordlessly you slid down from your stool, making your way to the hall. You stopped right across from the dressing room to glance down towards Daisuke’s office. A muffled uproar came from behind the mahogany door. You pushed a hand into the door of the kitchenette as Yuzuki stormed out of the office, clutching a small piece of paper in her hand.

“This is shit, Daisuke. You know this is shit. I might as well go to HEX if you have the nerve to steal from us like this.”

You could see straight into the small room. Daisuke sat still at his desk. Yuzuki stormed past you.

“Are you okay?” You asked, letting the kitchenette door close as you turned to face her. She seethed, jaw clenched.

“I can’t deal with this right now.” Yuzuki huffed before storming off. You took a breath before resuming your task.

***

The woman stood right outside where you expected her. She buried herself in her jacket, leaning against the side of the building. You carried two disposable cups in your hands, steaming and warm. You approached her and offered her one.

“It’s been getting colder out here.” You observed. The woman looked down at the cup.

“What is it?”

“Green tea,” You answered. “I thought you might like a cup.” Your breath floated visibly in the cold air. She gave a low nod before taking the cup from you with silent thanks.

“That’s very kind of you.” You took your spot next to her, lower back flush against the wall.

“Well, I thought you could use something to help that headache you no doubt have after being in that crowd.” You joked and she gave a light snicker and a smile. You blew on your beverage. You stood together looking out at the stars. That had to be your favorite part of the night. The neon signs just started to turn off around this time, revealing the specks of light above. “I just noticed that you come out here every time the others go back and that perhaps you could use some company.”

“I can’t say that these kinds of places are exactly my favorite.” She admitted before pausing. “No offense.” You waved at her with one hand.

“None taken, I completely understand.” Another pause. The wind blew, whipping your faux hair around and taking a few degrees off of your tea. You heard a scoff.

“I don’t get how you people do it.” The woman shook her head slowly, crumpling up the cup before shooting it to the nearest trash. She missed.

“Do what?”

“Deal with those guys all day.” The woman shoved her hands in her pockets. “I give you serious props. I couldn’t do that.” You looked at her kindly.

“Sometimes you do what you have to do.” You smiled softly, directing your gaze downward. “But… I have restrained myself from multiple punches. Genki can attest to that.” The woman snickered along with you.

“Yeah, me too. But something tells me that you have more self-restraint than I do.” She hummed. “Genki, that’s the-”

“Bartender.” You nodded and she mirrored, an eyebrow quirking.

“He sure is sweet on you.” She mused. You blinked at her blankly, expecting an explanation. She shifted. “Anyone with a brain could see that. But who knows.”

You swirled around the half inch of green tea that remained in your cup.

“Yeah, who knows.”

Notes: What do ya’ll think about the pacing so far? I’m curious because I think it’s too fast. Will someone let me know if it’s too fast? Thanks. 

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

frENEMIES, pt. 14 - Finale {Quarterback AU}

Series Masterlist

Gnawing on the inside of her cheek, Y/N felt guilty. She not only felt guilty, but evil because just looking into Mike's eyes that looked at her current state and easily deducted she was already Grayson's in more ways than one, he looked like she just ripped his heart out and danced on his grave.

"Really? Grayson fucking Dolan?" Mike exclaimed, his voice losing all the toughness he had with Grayson, the flowers in his hands shaking and not with rage.

"Look, I don't care. I'm crazy about you. Okay? I can get passed this if you're having regrets." And she felt even worse when she realized she could do whatever and Mike would still want her. But she wanted Grayson, as scary and uncertain as he can be, she wanted Grayson fucking Dolan.

Glancing at Grayson who seemed to have genuinely worried about her next move, she realized she had to end this torture and fast.

"Mike, I'm really sorry but...it's Grayson. You knew that, hell, you read the book! And I hate how it all happened, but I love this idiot and if I don't try, I'll hate myself." Sniffing, she rubbed her nose before locking eyes with Grayson who had a wide smile on his face because she just uttered the L word and it wasn't in an over the top way he imagined it would be and it wasn't really dramatic, it was as easy as breathing for her and that made it memorable.

"Yeah." Mike sighed, nodding to himself as his gaze fell to the floor and he licked his lips, gathering strength. "Hope you don't live to regret it. I really do." And he turned around, leaving the flowers he brought her on the table next to her front door before walking away.

"Are you okay?" Grayson stepped in front of her, breaking her unrelenting gaze that focused on the bouquet of lilacs - her favorite.

"I am. You're here, aren't you?" She inhaled deeply before looking up at her quarterback, giving him a small smile until he picked up on her wish and leaned in, kissing her lips.

"Now, how about that breakfast?"

The pair had found a way to be happy, leaving New York together on Sunday. Y/N didn't want Grayson to breach his contract and get him in legal trouble, so she followed him to L.A. thinking she can be a writer anywhere. And she was right because her sequel came out three years later, painting their reunion bittersweet considering the heart that broke in the process and the many issues they faced.

They were married six months into their relationship, already planning a family...a family they wouldn't be able to start so easily. 

It killed them both, making it hard for Grayson to watch her sinking further every month. They've tried the normal way, they tried ovulation stimulation, they underwent so many diagnostic procedures to find the reason why but they got nothing. The doctors simply couldn't understand why she wasn't pregnant, and she was convinced it was karma.

"I broke Mike's heart and this is my punishment." She truly believed it.

Y/N took it the hardest, aware that she was failing not only herself but Grayson who always rambled about having a big family. It’s why she underwent the most painful procedures to get to the bottom of the issue, but got nothing in return.

She pulled away, hating herself, blaming herself, breaking to pieces. Until she gave up. There was so much hope in her for the first year, even as they kept causing her pain to find the cause in order to remove it, but the hope was gone after that and... She simply gave up on having children and that's when the surprise came.

"Y/N, love, why are you here?" Grayson looked at her with pure confusion and some worry because Y/N never came to his practice, saying she wanted him to focus. But she was there, her eyes filled with tears as he approached her.

"I had to come. I had to see you." Picking around her bag, she managed to find the item in question, pushing it onto his palm with excitement.

"Are we? Am I gonna be a dad?" His voice is shaky, his mind coming to a stop as he stared at the plus. The plus that meant his wife would finally return to him, that sex would be love making again and not just a reproductive action, that she will stop crying in the bathroom at night thinking he can't hear her as he too cried because of the pain he saw was tearing her apart. It meant she would finally be happy in their marriage, that she won't waste away watching his brother's daughter grow with her heart breaking each year. It meant so much more than a baby and Grayson was beyond happy because their next step was artificial insemination and in vitro fertilization which would be hard on her with more hormones being pumped into her body, possible failures and miscarriages that would only weaken her body and soul more.

That plus was everything he could ever want and Grayson never felt quite as happy than the day she had come for him at practice, pulling him away to the doctor's where they confirmed her pregnancy. Until the babies came and the ovulation pills have apparently worked too well because Grayson instantly had more kids than Ethan - identical twin girls.

"I didn't think this book would be such a success, but I guess people love enemies to lovers trope, huh?" She laid back, watching Grayson carry their girls, each nested in one arm, sleeping peacefully after their cramps eased up.

"I'd say it's the slow burn, maybe even the struggles to convince." He whispers and she has to hold back a chuckle to not wake the babies. The cramps they've been struggling with had both of them on edge, not sleeping for weeks.

"Or the fact everyone knows it's you, even if I never named you." She shrugs, realizing he's ready to put them down, watching with a grimace because she had a nagging feeling both girls would wake up the moment they don't feel their dad's warmth.

"I'm getting better at this." Proud, Grayson snuck back to the bed, way too happy about the silence that followed as he finally put his head down and relaxed.

"You're a good dad, but I'll bet you they will be up in less than ten minutes." Y/N smirked, aware that it took them hours to stop crying which meant their feeding time was pretty much now.

And just as he said deal, the babies started screaming and he wanted to cry too.

"You don't get to cry right now, quarterback! They're living off my boobs, not yours."

But still, they were happy, blissful even as they laid there tired, the babies eating while Y/N tried to stay awake and Grayson did the same just in case she fell asleep. He was definitely a hands on dad, always helping out even if he did gag every diaper change or had offered to ‘milk’ her on the first night and she cried because she thought he called her a cow - a big misunderstanding caused by his overwhelming need to help her because one baby was hard, two felt impossible.

"I love you and I'm so grateful for you and everything you do. For giving me these little girls that drive me crazy already and they're barely a month old, but also for loving me at my worst." Kissing her forehead, Grayson watched her tenderly, aware that his life had truly started when she came into his life and when she started loving him. Being dubbed worthy of love by a woman like her meant the world to him.

"Imagine someone telling us we'd be here back in college? I'd have thought they need a psychiatrist. But I'm happy. I really am. Even when I hated you during the difficulty of pregnancy and labor."

"You hated me?" Grayson's eyes widen and she smiles, aware if she laughed both babies would get scared and wail and do you know how hard it is to settle two wailing babies and convince them to eat? It’s hell she didn’t think worthy of risk for a single laugh.

"You try carrying two humans and then pushing them out of a very small hole. The point is, I love you too, quarterback. I do."

Finding comfort in one another, they braved that night and many more to come, always in love with each other to the point of embarrassing their kids, two more that came after, but isn't that what we all want? Someone that is your best friend, partner in crime and lover until the day we die? Y/N found that in her quarterback, realizing people are more than what they show on the surface and the line between love and hate is a fickle one. 

Tags:  @livexdolan​​​ @dreadingdaisies​​​ @strangerliaa​​​ @mendesficsxbombay​​​ @beinscorpio​​​ @peacedolantwins​​​ @dolandolll​​​ @idekxdolan​​

[miraculouscontent]

Askplosion #12 4/4:

(I would like to state for future reference that, while I do not mind long/multi-part asks, if you’d like to engage in actual discussion with me over a non-Miraculous topic, my DMs - Tumblr Messenger - should be open; I lost pieces of three multi-part asks this time just due to Tumblr not sending the remaining part(s) so yeah, I just wanted to make that clear)

(like, this askplosion ended up being super long because of this section and that’s not really what I want to have going on since I’m supposed to be a primarily Miraculous blog; I don’t want to have to stop answering non-Miraculous related asks but I might have to if this keeps up:)

.:New non-Miraculous Asks:.

Anonymous said:

What are your experiences with some really rude anons?

It’s partly my fault when it happens. Like I’ve said before, I’m an aspie, and part of what that means is I struggle to understand situations emotionally. I can come off as insensitive or read the mood wrong which often leads to people misunderstanding my intentions or where I’m coming from.

More often than not, what I’m saying will make 100% sense to me but not the person/people reading it. I also stick a lot more firmly to my opinions than I should because people tell me I fold too easily, and I come off as more egotistical than I actually am to cover up my low self-esteem lol.

So yeah, can’t think of any experience in particular but sometimes it might be my fault? At least I suspect that it is?

Anonymous said:

“Killed by kindness” makes me think of an assassin who kills people by giving hugs and compliments to people and the occasion gift that isn’t tampered until thre target does like Conrad Birdie making women swoon into fainting by singing.

omg

yes

Anonymous said:

You're watching Yashahime right now? rip

MARINETTE TAKE 2 MOROHA DESERVES BETTER

SETSUNA HAS SO LITTLE REASON TO HANG OUT WITH THE OTHER TWO GIRLS

IF I SEE ANOTHER DEUS EX TOWA I’M GONNA KICK SOMETHING

(so yes, I’m watching Yashahime)

Anonymous said:

Since someone recommended Remarried Empress, I would like to recommend my own webcomic: Princess Love-Pon! It's about a young girl named Lia Sagamore who becomes the titular magical girl and purifies people's hearts when they're tainted by the Dark Queen! It's really cool due to its diversity, the main character is black and her best friend is Afro-Latina, the villain and her prince son are also black, and there's a Japanese girl, a black guy, and an Indian girl. Plus, loads of pink and frills!

Thank you very much, though I actually don’t take recommendations, even from close friends. The Remarried Empress anon wasn’t a recommendation; they were more pointing something out to me and then I went to confirm.

Anonymous said:

Unrelated to MLB: Which Pokémon are your favourites?

I used a “Favorite Pokemon Picker” because I prefer going by generations to pick favorites and that was the easiest way of going about it. I struggle picking super favorites so here’s what I got form each generation! (my only rule was “one Pokemon per evolution line” with an exception of the Eevee line since they’re different types, and also Alolan/Galarian forms)

(note: the blue-patterned Vivillon is my favorite and I honestly don’t like Charizard normally but the Y version actually slims him down and gives him the wings I feel he should have; it’s an improvement of the design so it gets my seal of approval, I don’t like the X version at all)

(lol I was looking through this after I was done and find it really funny how it’s like, 50% cute things and then the other 50% is just EDGY, there’s very little in-between with me I guess)

Anonymous said:

Bridgerton the Series: Yay or nay? Sorry if you haven’t seen it or it’s not your thing. I was just curious.

Never seen it, though when I brought up to someone, they didn’t recommend it to me at all ahaha.

Anonymous said:

I previously kept having this argument about The Bechdel Test with someone. She keeps insisting that the test is invalid because there's nothing wrong with talking about men and that it was created for lesbians only, and not for feminists, with the implication that being a lesbian somehow means that you dislike men or want them gone. And she also thinks the test is about NEVER talking about men, rather than merely occasionally talking about other things. I keep telling her otherwise, but...

jdfhkgdfhjgdfg “lesbians only”

now all I can imagine is “lesbians only” sections at restaurants and such

Anonymous said:

Have you ever played Akinator, with or without the Miraculous Ladybug characters? Because I played it with Ochaco from MHA and Marinette and he guessed them within a second(can your character control gravity? Is your character a protagonist?). I even played it with myself as the "character" and he guessed "your shadow" lol. How about you?

I’ve played Akinator before but I don’t specifically remember what I was searching for lol.

Anonymous said:

The cast for the newest Power Rangers series got revealed, and I hate that as soon as I saw the Pink Ranger's bio mentioned she was an internet journalist, I thought of Alya. I really hope she doesn't have the same problems as Alya in the series proper.

fhgdfkgd journalists have been ruined for us forever

Anonymous said:

Have you noticed that in many shows, especially shonen shows, people tend to hate the most "feminine" female character? Like, in Naruto it was Sakura, in Death Note it was Misa, in My Hero Academia it was Ochaco(although a lot of people like her so I'm not so sure about that last one?). The most hated character in one too many a shonen is almost always the "girliest" of the characters. They're always claimed to be useless or reliant on a man. And this is within the fandom who should know better!

It probably didn’t help with Sakura that she was decked out in pink hair; that’s an instant girl label for you (or lesbian label, depends on the person :P).

I don’t think I’ve been in enough fandoms to have such an experience but I definitely see where you’re coming from.

Anonymous said:

Rewatching Chat Blanc and Here To Help from Star vs. and hearing Adrien/Marco tell Marinette/Star that they always liked the girls from the beginning makes me so pissed. It's not that I don't ship Starco(I do! But I also like MarcoxJanna), although I don't ship the love square, but I'm so annoyed with writers finding the need to make the audience "know" that the main ship's characters "always" liked each other, as if that makes their love for each other more true, even if it's obvious they had other crushes? Like, what happened to Kagami Tsurugi? Jackie-Lynn Thomas?

News flash: Teenagers are allowed to have crushes on multiple other people before they find "the One". It doesn't mean their love for that "One" is any less valid. And if you still want to pull the "they always liked each other since they first met", at least make it actually TRUE!!! Don't have them have crushes on other people before moving on to the "official" crush and be all like "Oh, by the way, I liked you from the start," when it's dead obvious they didn't. You're doing a disservice to the romantic "false" leads.

I'm willing to forgive Star's crush on Oskar and Tom since she's not the one claiming she always liked Marco(even though she fell in love with him LONG before he fell in love with her, which is a nice turn of events), although her "love" for Oskar was merely an infatuation at most and I personally don't see why it was needed. Why don't they just say that their old crush didn't do it for them???

UGH, I remember watching that show and being so annoyed because I really liked Marco and Jackie and wanted them to be a thing but I knew that they’d pull Starco in the end because of course they would.

It also totally makes it seem as if love is the most powerful relationship there is (aros would like a word), which is so bizarre when there are so many “power of friendship” tropes. Like, a male and female lead have to get together because their relationship is the strongest.

The love square would hold so much more meaning to me without this love drama nonsense. It’s tiring.

Anonymous said:

Have you seen Yuki Yuna Is a Hero? If so, then what are your thoughts on it? I was thinking of watching it but it seems to be another "taking away the empowerment of the magical girl genre by making the girls suffer instead" type story. I read about it on TV Tropes and apparently it's a deconstruction that takes after Madoka Magica which already puts a bad taste in my mouth, but then I got to the examples and they're basically about how girls who get magical powers lose their body parts one by one and that the reason only girls can be heroes is because "young girls have always been sacrifices".

Not to mention it was written by a man and aimed towards a seinen(adult men ages 17-35) demographic, making it torture porn for adult men. Also, both the laconic page for Yuki Yuna and Madoka Magica say "Being a magical girl sucks."(though for Yuki Yuna it adds "Unless you have the power of friendship.") and to be honest that kills any desire in me to watch the show. Should I give it a chance?

Oof.

Yeah, after bringing it up to a friend of mine, it was instantly recommended of me not to watch it, so I’d say, “no.”

Anonymous said:

Let's make one thing perfectly clear. I, love, love, LOVE Sailor Moon. And I love the transformations, too. But if there's one thing I don't love, it's that their outfits all look pretty much the same but with different colors/different lengths of gloves and shoes and stuff like that, and that they all have the exact same body type save for the one fat girl who's made to look bad. I don't like Madoka Magica, but at least they all had unique/different costumes(but they still have similar bodies).

We’re not allowed diversity here. Take your different body types to a show that cares; we’re all about femininity here and how girls can be beautiful and powerful no matter wha--oh wait...

Yeah, I don’t care for the design in Sailor Moon, but that’s because skirts don’t interest me design-wise unless it’s really unique/interesting.

(note that there’s a lot of talk about tomboys, sexism, and TV tropes and such below, and then Madoka Magica after that; that’s basically the rest of this askplosion:)

Anonymous said:

I just saw the thumbnail for a video called "Why You Should Watch Princess Tutu(Yes, I Know The Name Is Stupid)". Umm, why is it stupid exactly? Because it's "girly"? What is with people thinking that in order for a girly show to be good they have to first separate the show from its girliness in order to enjoy it? It's like how men will say a show is good despite it being girly, or that since it's good it's no longer girly. Nobody does this for boy shows, because boy things are "never" stupid.

Princess = girly thing

Tutu = girly thing

girly things = bad

That’s the formula~ They should’ve called it something edgier and manly so that more people would be interested.

Anonymous said:

I'm wary of any woman or girl who says, "I'm a girl, but I'd rather read books about guys" or "I'm a female writer but I mostly write stories about male characters". I feel like those women are the "not like other girls/one of the guys" type who suffer from internalized misogyny and don't like female characters. I also feel like they're the type to not care about female representation, because in their minds, girls shouldn't care about female role models. We can enjoy males just as much! I do!

To be fair, they might also just be writing about shirtless men doing “handsome” things. ;P

But nah, I see your point. Me personally, I try to find a balance of writing both, but I do think there can be bias.

Anonymous said:

Do you think it's okay to like a ship but acknowledge that it wouldn't be safe or healthy or condonable in real life? Because I was just thinking of how a lot of people like some really "toxic" ships like Veronica/JD in Heathers, Yuno/Yukki in Future Diary, Madoka/Homura in Madoka Magica(although some people don't like it because of its toxicity/like it but don't realize it's toxic), almost any villain/hero ship, the list goes on. But they're aware of the fact that it's not a good standard for healthy relationships in real life.

An alternative I've seen is people having a crush on "dangerous" characters like JD and Yuno, or Karma from Assassination Classroom(there's not a single video on YouTube with him in it that DOESN'T have comments full of people saying they want Karma to father their children), but still being aware of the fact that the character is a) not real and b) wouldn't be a good partner if they were real(and that's assuming they even want to be with you. But sometimes there's a good reason for falling in love with a "toxic/dangerous" character.

Take Monika from Doki Doki Literature Club! She's obsessed with the player(not the player CHARACTER, the flesh and blood player themselves) to the point of killing off all the other girls and "trapping" you in a room with her where she talks endlessly about lots of things. But she's actually a lonely girl who's driven insane by the fact that nothing around her is real. She latches on to you because you're the only other person who's real and sapient and has got a mind of their own. You're literally her outlet to the outside world.

She's personally my favorite character in the game due to her actually being a more fleshed out, sympathetic(and not in the idealized "moemoe" way), and realistic take on the Yandere archetype(which, like many moe archetypes, is kinda misogynistic in nature in that it reinforces submissiveness; it's basically animes version of "woman scorned".). So it makes sense that people would sympathize with her and want her to become real, because all she's ever wanted was to be real and to talk to real people. Especially since she really did care about her friends and even returned them back to life because she saved their backup files, taking herself out of the picture.

I read a few "Monika becomes real and lives with you" fanfictions where she's really sweet and not at all crazy and cares for you a lot, and it's never felt the same as all those other "Yandere/psycho lives with you and is your girl/boyfriend" type stories precisely because those stories tend to just glorify possessive partners that kill your loved ones, drive your family members to commit suicide, and tear up your stuffed animals and dollies for the sake of it, rather than go into why they're so crazy for you, and often reinforce Stockholm Syndrome.

Plus, those "things" she talks about in the empty room? They're actually quite smart and make you think about the world for a bit. Not many "crazy" type characters actually get that. They're all about how "I'll slice your boyfriend open with an axe if you don't date me wa ha ha", and even if they're not, it's all the fandom will focus on, to the point of ignoring any and all other aspects to their character. Because that "crazy in love" aspect is the most appealing part of them. Maybe it's due to forbidden fruit/bad boy(or girl) appeal? Who knows? But I'm starting to wonder if it's still as bad if people recognize the problematic aspects of "crazy in love" characters or "dysfunctional" relationships.

Because if they recognize it's not real and don't really want it for themselves, then it's probably not much of a problem. But if they just go on wanting it to be real and never take a step back and go "wait a minute, this isn't real love; they're only together because he latches onto the first girl to show him any kindness and affection and she's a doormat who doesn't want something bad to happen if she leaves him", then that's bad.

Obviously it's not as bad as being in love with literal stalkers, killers, and rapists in real life(which is an actual thing, believe it or not, it's called hybristophilia), because fictional characters will never be real. Karma Akabane will never be real. Yuno Gasai will never be real. JD will never be real. But loving fictional characters who do those things and not realizing the problem with it may cause people to seek out real criminals, so it's best to separate fiction from reality.

I can’t help judging a little internally, but yeah, I think people can ship whatever as long as it has that “not in real life” scenario going for it. It’s ultimately fiction, so just because I don’t like it and/or think that it’s bad doesn’t mean other people can’t ship it.

Anonymous said:

I'm getting tired of all the racists on TV Tropes getting upset whenever a trope has a Japanese name. Whether it's Tsundere, Yandere, Meganekko, Genki Girl, Bokukko, or any Japanese anime name, people will complain that the trope exists beyond anime so it shouldn't have a "cute anime name", and that it should instead just be given a broader(read: English) name with the same meaning. Or that the site is too obsessed with anime. I'm just sick of people saying that anime names are bad.

The other thing is that we don’t actually have English words for certain things? I mean, the whole reason we say, “tsundere,” is because it says everything in one word. It’s easy.

(Also, people are aware the the English language isn’t some unique thing that takes no inspiration from other languages, right? It’s a mix of things, so accept that other languages exist because we literally wouldn’t have English without them.)

Anonymous said:

Have you seen the TV Tropes reviews for "My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic"? Holy crap, they are all a perfect example of the "Real Women Don't Wear Dresses" phenomenon that I have mentioned earlier and is so fucking present on this site. While some reviews praise the show for showing that "it's okay to be strong AND girly"(such as Hadles' review, which was really splendid), and that girl shows are no less good, others either insult the show by calling it "girly, saccharine, and stupid" as if "girly" is synonymous with anything bad about a show, or feel the need to distance it from its girliness in order to praise it as if a show can't be good if it's also girly.

Some people were saying things like "the show might seem girly at first, but it's actually a good, brilliant show with intricate plot twists, well-developed characters, and even some scary moments" and "the characters aren't just shallow girly-girls, they have depth!" So what, girliness is mutually exclusive to anything of value? One person even said that the Girl-Show Ghetto was the reason they couldn't get into the show or respect it. Just...wow.

And one review even said "Rarity's pretty tough for a girly girl!" Excuse me? Tough FOR a girly girl? So being a girly girl somehow automatically disqualifies you from being tough? Like "yeah, she's tough despite being a girly girl! Because girly girls aren't supposed to be tough."

It reminds me of the phrase "you're pretty for a black girl", which, while it's never been said to ME, I have heard other people complain about. It's sick and it hurts, just like this. And the few people who didn't say things like that still said that they couldn't get into the show at first because it looked "girly and vapid", before changing their minds and thinking that the show either proved their biases about girly shows wrong, no longer think it's girly since girly shows "can't" be good, or like it "despite" it's girliness.

And there were 70 reviews in all. 70 reviews full of this misogynistic "girly is bad" shit. So in conclusion nearly all the reviews on TV Tropes for My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic were along the lines of one of three things. 1) "This show is girly so I looked past it because girly shows are dumb." 2) "This show is good despite being girly/the characters are good despite being girly." and 3) "This show is not girly to me at all because it is well-written and captivating and girly shows aren't capable of such things."

Granted, some people there were able and willing to call out those who judged the show badly for being girly(or gave it the "not like other girls" treatment, but in show form), as well as people warning other potential viewers to get rid of any potential bias they may have against it due to it being girly. But there were still more people insulting its girliness as a reason they think it sucks or denying its girliness to justify their liking of it than the other way around.

I would've accepted it in the form of "If you think this show is bad because of its inherent girliness, then you are wrong!" or "This show is proof that a show being girly or aimed at girls doesn't and shouldn't take away from its value, as people seem to believe." or "A girl can be girly and be a strong female character.", but no, instead I got shit like this. It's especially insulting when TV Tropes is a site that devotes itself in part to critiquing sexist tropes found in media, only to turn right around and reinforce them.

I don’t read TV Tropes that frequently, so I fortunately missed out on all of these complete idiots who associate girly products with being bad.

(that “pretty for a black girl” comment makes me hate all aspects of “expectations of beauty” and it’s like--plz let these die)

I could maybe see an argument for criticizing a girls show for being “saccharine” if it were like, “girls’ shows written by men who clearly don’t know how to write girls are usually bad,” because then it’s not a criticism of girls’ shows exactly but rather who keeps being put in charge of writing them.

Anonymous said:

I get so annoyed when people get upset when confronted with the matter of female representation with "what's so wrong with one show having a male protagonist or mostly men and one/a few women? Why do we have to include women in everything?" These people clearly do not understand that one show doing it is one thing, but when multiple shows do it, it's an obvious problem. It's even worse when they turn around and diss shows with largely female casts for "not having enough men".

And as for people getting upset that "every show has to include women/come with a checkbox nowadays", as if it's bad to include women in your story...look around. Women make up 50% of the population. They're literally everywhere. What reason do you have to not include a substantial amount of women?

These people act like male is the default and women are a last resort. They see no problem with men dominating a cast because it's justified(despite that not reflecting real life), and yet having female characters, or, hell, a female-dominated cast(I know they also don't reflect real life, but there are still female-dominated spaces; most colleges are 2/3 female) is "unrealistic" trying to fulfill a quota, or a straw feminist agenda, as if characters can't be female for their own sake. You shouldn't have to be forced include women because their presence should be a given.

How many stories nowadays take place in the war front in Viking times or whatever? A lot of men just don't want to include female characters or see them represented(well) in media because those who are overrepresented tend to want to stay that way. They likely also have insecurities about their masculinity and are worried about female characters flooding their shows with estrogen and ruining the shows they love, because they can't relate to female characters or enjoy shows about them without negating their girliness(ie. This show seems girly, but it's actually good), since they're ashamed to associate themselves with anything feminine due to looking down on women or seeing them as bad.

Plus they want to be the center of everything so the second a show is about mostly women they get upset and claim it's "sexist against men" because it's not about them. Hence why bronies(bless their souls) are made fun of for the grave sin of enjoying a female-centric show with a female protagonist and largely female characters. Granted, there are some freaky fans, but there's still some sexism at play here.

This reminds me of a post I saw about a boy who actually looked up to female characters because you can pick a role model who doesn’t fit your gender. Crazy concept, I know. ;P

And yeah, that’s how it goes with equality. People who are best/most represented don’t want equality because they think it means less for them and they don’t want that, like a child who doesn’t want to share their cookies with everyone else.

Anonymous said:

I love TV Tropes, but if there's one problem I have with it, it's how often it associates femininity with weakness. The "Masculine Girl, Feminine Boy" trope is a good example of this, but the worst offender in my opinion is the Girly Girl With a Tomboy Streak, as most of the examples there are simply of girls who are strong-willed or fierce or can fight. Because you know, those traits are male. It's bad because there are ALREADY tropes for girly girls who can fight, Girly Bruiser and Lady of War (which TV Tropes even goes out of its way to SAY shouldn't be counted as a "Tomboy Streak" and yet does stuff like this), but it's also bad because ANY girly girl with these qualities, no matter how feminine they are otherwise, will be seen by TV Tropes as having to be at least somewhat tomboyish(read: masculine) in order to have those traits. Because regular girly girls are just weak and fragile and only want to be housewives.

It's even worse when you realize that much of these characters are created with the exact purpose of subverting the stereotype that girliness equals weak, and instead present a new and more empowering form of femininity: that femininity is strong and DOES NOT equal being a passive sex tool for men's pleasure. They're MEANT to show that being a tomboy is not the only way to be strong, and TV Tropes acknowledges that! But then they also go and claim these characters have "Tomboy Streaks" thus undermining the positive message by insinuating that you have to be tomboyish to be strong and that even girly girls have to have some level of masculinity to be deemed respectable and equal human beings, plus manipulating many impressionable folks into thinking strength and bravery is automatically tomboyish.

Worse yet, they often put a character here because "she's a big eater" or "she burps/farts a lot". Gee, I didn't know women had bodily functions? I didn't know women had digestive systems? So basically any time a girl shows that she is a human being and not a pretty, passive doll to be idealized, she is acting like a man. Because only men are fully-fledged human beings. Even outside of that, look at basically any masculinity-femininity contrast trope(Tomboy and Girly Girl, Sensitive Guy and Manly Man, Masculine Girl Feminine Boy, etc.). The "masculine" character will often be described as dominant, assertive, or outspoken, and the "feminine" character will often be called weak-willed, passive, emotional, and timid. It's fucking sickening.

The Tomboy With A Girly Streak trope is similar to its inverse in that a tomboyish girl will often be placed under this trope with their proclaimed "girly" streak being that she's tender or cries a lot or is soft spoken/a doormat. Because being girly is about not taking up too much space, not having any ambition or aspiration, and overall being a weak and shallow waste of space. For a site that claims to dismantle such sexist misconceptions, it sure does reinforce them just as much.

I almost want to stop using TV Tropes based on that and many other reasons, but it's a genuinely informative site that at least tries to avoid these stereotypes(plus it's edited by more than one person), it just doesn't do enough. For example, they made an awkward claim once that women can't fight while on their periods, and even have an Improbably Female Cast trope, as if it's abnormal that a cast could consist of mostly women and demands an explanation. To them, femininity=inferior.

And then in comes the “anti-girl tomboy” characters who basically do everything “girls don’t do;” glares at things like make-up and such, rolls eyes at the subject of “girl talk” or “romance,” drinks anything carbonated and spreads their legs wide open, etcetera.

Guys really don’t get the same version, at least not that I’m aware of? Like, at best, they don’t participate in “guy things” but that’s about it.

Having characters acknowledge it just makes everything more blatant, like if a woman comes by and the guys have to assure “DON’T WORRY, SHE’S LIKE ONE OF THE GUYS.”

It’s like a woman can only hang out and engage in “guy talk/time” (the concept of which I hate but that’s besides the point) if they can crush a beer can against their forehead.

Anonymous said:

OMG TV Tropes called Cirno the Ice Fairy from Touhou a "tomboy"? Why? Because she's boisterous and outspoken and not a "shy girly-girl" like Daiyousei! TV Tropes clearly believes that any girl or woman who is more than just a pretty face(which ALL women are, by the way), who takes up space, who has a dynamic personality and isn't just a weeping wallflower(which I'm not saying Daiyousei is) is a tomboy. Because she's acting like a man that way. Ugh, so over TV Tropes and their sexism.

And all the girls in Touhou(including Cirno) wear big frilly dresses anyway so it doesn't really make sense to see ANY of them as tomboys. But no, apparently any girl who is rowdy or tough or is active and not passive is a tomboy. You gotta be a tomboy to have attitude. You can tell they think so because they often say things like "strong, but still feminine" as if those things are opposites. They even described femininity as "weak and susceptible, vain and superficial". Like, ugh, kill me now.

I legitimately want to see a bullet point list here of what qualifies as a “tomboy.” Like, what, anyone who does one thing that isn’t “girly”?

Can we just throw out all of these terms; not even replace them, just throw them out?

(the below ask is incomplete - the first part is missing - but the asker clarified after I asked them, so clarification is below:)

Anonymous said:

Tropes is because I'm working on a story and I hope when it becomes famous that TV Tropes will write about it, but as it stands, I'm beginning to wonder that TV Tropes undermines most stories or plots to do with women one way or another. I mean, they constantly create tropes with the intent of calling out inherent biases, yet reinforce those biases themselves.

For example, they have a trope called Men Are Generic, Women Are Special, which points out the bias of male being the default, and yet on almost every other page on the wiki describing a trope, the default character will be a "he"(especially if it's a character trope), and whenever they mention "The Hero" or "The Big Bad" it's always a he unless it needs to be female(like if the heroine is in a romance story, or if the villain is a seductress). Female characters at best, can hope to be "The Heart" or "The Chick" of the group(which is often used in a demeaning way).

They even have a trope called "Improbably Female Cast" in which they point out all the instances of a story's setting having an "over-abundance" of women or girls with no men in sight, and claim that such stories have majority female characters when it is "unusual" "unlikely" or "lacks justification". Someone even suggested that the trope should be called "Where Are All The Men?" as if there's something inherently weird or wrong when a story is dominated by female characters, and like the story is in dire need of men, as if only men can be protagonists.

Even if the story has a justifiable reason for having mostly women, the fact that the writer made that choice at all is somehow deserving of mention. The mere fact that there's no "Improbably Male Cast" trope shows where the site's biases lay. They don't see anything wrong with a show being dominated by men with little to no female representation(ex. Death Note), and yet a show dominated by women(ex. MLPFIM) is somehow an anomaly and demands an explanation(even if the story does provide a reason for it, TV Tropes will still list it and presume it "improbable", as if to say "I mean, yeah, but there's no reason why you couldn't just make them mEn instead", as if writers who have mostly female characters are going out of their way to steer away from the "default" males.

In fact, they even admit that "Men Are Generic, Women Are Special" is their reason for having such a trope, but not the inverse. They even say that it's not the trope if the show revolves around a group of girlfriends with no indication of the gender ratio in the wider setting. So any time the females outnumber the males a story it's instantly labeled "improbable" because there's NO WAY any setting AT ALL could have more females than males. That's improbable! You see, this is why when women are 1/3 of the people in a given space men perceive it as "majority female" because they're uncomfortable with women having more of a presence than men.

We'll never have true equality if shows with majority female casts continue to be scrutinized under a microscope and assumed to be of inferior, lesser quality, just because there's no male characters around and it's women who are driving the plot. My problem isn't that they have a trope for majority female casts, it COULD be a testament to gender equality(ie., "there used to not be a lot of shows revolving around women, but now they're becoming increasingly common and well-known), but it's that they single out such stories as "unlikely" and thus discredit them.

And worse yet, they refuse to change the name, because they don't see a problem with it. So now every single show that doesn't have an equal number of males and females or more males than females is going to be called "improbable" by TV Tropes, because there's something(bad) to be said about shows that choose to make most of their characters women. Death Note and Naruto can slide by the radar of having loads of men, but Madoka Magica and Touhou are "improbable"? Because they have loads of women?

the clarification:

Anonymous said:

I started out complaining about how TV Tropes says that boys will watch Star Vs. The Forces of Evil only because of Marco(who's great, but it comes off like boys can only relate to boy characters) and that the show only looks girly but has a deep complex plot with scary moments(as if a show can't be dark and complex and still be girly; girly=shallow, watered down fluff), hence my complaint about TV Tropes undermining girly shows or anything "girly".

Yup, exactly like I said.

Good stuff in “girly” things is the exception. Good stuff in “manly” things is expected.

Which is funny when you consider stuff like “edgy” reboots of things. Like, Disney remakes their original movies and that usually means making them worse (like in Beauty and the Beast - god I hate that remake - where the objects are going to become complete objects when the last petal falls even though the enchantress is explicitly a good person and it comes off as super cruel and unnecessary), but that seems to just be its own breed of bad I guess.

Then there are terms like “chick flicks” and “soap operas” which are usually women-oriented and tend to be considered dumb/over-dramatic.

You know, not like MEN shows with their sexualization of women, guns and MEN things.

Anonymous said:

Remember what I said about TV Tropes being sexist? Well, they also have a trope called "Girly Run". Like, that's literally the name. Girly. Run. Thankfully the first example(which is under advertising due to the forms of media being in alphabetical order) is an aversion from the blessed Like A Girl campaign, but...just reading the page lets the casual-yet-bold-faced sexism speak for itself.

why can’t things just be like the Sims where characters can wear whatever the hell they want and have any personality without any judgment or criticism from other Sims?

(more Madoka Magica talk - and ONLY Madoka Magica talk - below because I’ve unleashed a monster apparently:)

Anonymous said:

I know you don't like Frozen but I saw a theory somewhere that Elsa's powers came from making a contract with Kyubey and her wish was to impress her sister and anyway I can't stop rolling my eyes. This isn't(just) because of my distaste for Madoka Magica compared to my love for Frozen, but if Elsa's a Puella Magi then why didn't she become a witch long ago? How did she make it to adulthood? How did she become emotionally stable? And why do her powers have to come from a negative source?

I think it might just be people looking for excuses to do their crossover fanfiction which--yeah, I’m not crazy about that.

Anonymous said:

Did you know that Cristina Vee voiced Homura Akemi in the English Dub? It's very noticeable, especially during the Cake Song, where I could've sworn she sounds exactly like Marinette. By the way, I'm still not sure what the hell was going on in that song. Could you please explain it to me(if you know)?

Nooooo don’t make me think of Homura when I think of Marinette!! fjkdgjnfdg

lol but seriously, I think the Cake Song is just meant to be one of those “weird but meant to be dEeP” things that shows do sometimes to be cool (not a criticism technically; depends on how it’s used).

I think the cake is the labyrinth and Homura saying that she’s the pumpkin makes her the odd one out since pumpkins are associated with scares and halloween, so it’s “foreshadowing” her being the witch. The things that they say they are... they’re like--ingredients for a meal, but not a cake, so the the cake is the labyrinth and they’re the things that would go inside it.

Homura and Madoka are the only ones who really get descriptions to go with them. Homura says that she’s “full of seeds” (despair?) and Madoka implies that it’ll bring sweet dreams once she’s sliced (which is either referring to the godly freedom given to magical girls before they turn into witches, or foreshadowing Madoka being “split” after Homura stops Madoka from purifying her, leading to Homura’s “sweet dream” of what it’s like when everything is “normal” after her reality twisting).

Anonymous said:

May I ask what you don't like about Kyoko's character? Is it because she was the stereotypical "jerk with a heart of gold"? Or because the writer made her flip from hating Sayaka and wanting her dead to suddenly dying for Sayaka even though she barely knows her compared to Madoka(because the writer doesn't understand how girls' relationships work)? For me it was a mixture of both(though I still don't mind KyoSaya!), but I still liked her enough, she just felt a tad stereotypical. Your thoughts?

It’s both. I just don’t like characters like her at all and the runtime of Madoka Magica can’t maintain all of these characters, “developing” them, and then killing them off. I don’t even have any time to get attached to them because they’re dead within a matter of a few episodes.

And it’s always like, “okay here’s this character’s backstory to make you feel emotionally attached--HA NOW THEY’RE DEAD. SEE??? WE TOTALLY GOT YOU.”

Like, no, you didn’t. I didn’t even have time to care about THEM, much less their actual death.

Anonymous said:

What about the girls in Madoka Magica? Do you think they're strong female characters? Now, obviously the show is not feminist, since it misses the whole point of Magical Girl, which is to empower girls and show them that girls can be powerful and feminine and can find strength in solidarity with each other by instead making them suffer and fight each other and have their power come from their emotions, which are exploited and turned against them because women can't be powerful, but still...

It’s the same way I feel about Marinette; there are some who I want to say are strong characters, but the writing is ready to just kill them off at any time and bully them for essentially having emotions.

Basically, imagine a male writer hands you a character sheet and is like, “AW YEAH CHECK OUT THIS sTrOng FEMALE CHARACTER I WROTE.”

Like, even if they were right, their ego and obnoxiousness about the whole thing, along with what they actually do to said character, makes you not want to give them any credit for it.

Anonymous said:

How do you think Puella Magi Madoka Magica would be different if they had magical boys as well(which can mean either gender-bending canon magical girls or introducing original magical boys)? Do you think the show would be better? Worse? Or would it be just about the same?

Personally I feel like having magical boys would be good and bad; good because there would be no more of the “teenage girls are hysterical” crap and it wouldn’t just be girls suffering because they can’t handle power, and bad because it would still be problematic(for stereotyping all teens as over emotional and deserving to be taken advantage of by the Incubators, and it would still be about kids suffering in a genre meant to empower girls, having some of them be boys wouldn’t help that much).

I also feel like Gen Urobuchi would still make the girls suffer more and have them be more emotionally and mentally unstable. Holy crap it feels like he read up on Aristotle’s views on women while making this show.

It would at least be more balanced I guess? Like, teenage years are a fragile time, so it would make sense for both girls and boys to be taken advantage of. I still wouldn’t like it but it would be nice to point out, “there are emotional boys as well as emotional girls.”

Anonymous said:

Literally all the problems with Treatment of Marinette, Chat's Entitlement(TM), and the sheer sexism in general(ex. all the teenage girls and even women villains being catty and bitchy, while the male villains are cool, suave, and calculating; female villains being irredeemable scum while male villains are "not as bad as they seem", etc.) could all be solved if the show just got some more female writers! You know a show isn't feminist like people claim if none of the writers are women.

That's what I love about Friendship is Magic; the show is written and directed by a woman and actually has a variety of both male and female writers! Plus, Lauren Faust explicitly identifies as a feminist and claims her works are meant to empower women and show them that there's no wrong way to be a girl. And the show reflects that! There's no "token girl" who checks all the boxes; the females have realistic flaws, diverse personalities, and let's not forget ARE THE HEROES!!! Not to mention that the cast is actually PREDOMINANTLY FEMALE. Do people have any idea how refreshing that is?!

And that's why whenever people claim that shows like Madoka Magica are feminist when it's written by men for men while also dismissing actually feminist shows written by women for women as "sexist" or "demeaning", I cringe inside. It's not just what the show looks like, it's what the people behind it say.

And Gen Urobuchi is not a feminist. At all. Just listen to the things he says about the girls, that they're terrorists who are full of hubris and destined to be alone, and that actual magical girl shows weren't his inspiration beyond the show's cosmetics, he just based it off of porn games. He only watched those shows after making Madoka Magica and admitted they were weird to him. Well, maybe they wouldn't be weird if you actually used them as inspiration! Why are you even making magical girl? So basically he admitted that all the suffering the girls go through is because it's his fetish.

I knew I wasn't imagining things when I saw all those weird shots and angles(ex. zooming in on Sayaka's thighs and breasts when she collapses to the floor, Madoka gripping the bed sheets between her legs when agitated, zooming in on Kyoko's ass when she takes her phone out of her shorts' back pocket, it's all for cheap titillation). And yet people keep saying the show is devoid of male gaze and sexism and why? Because apparently men know how to represent women better than women themselves.

you said “Madoka gripping the bed sheets between her thighs” and it gave me an immediate flashback, I hate it

I find that it’s a similar thing with gay anime/manga; I’m more likely to trust a F/F story if it’s written by a woman since they’re less likely to sexualize everything.

Anonymous said:

Homura in Puella Magi Madoka Magica: But Madoka, what's going to happen to you? You'll end up all alone here forever! You'll never be able to see your friends and family! Homura in Rebellion: Haha, screw Madoka's friends and family! Only I am worthy of Madoka's love! That girl belongs to me! MWAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!(I'm sorry for the over exaggeration, but this is how it felt for me.)

Apparently, it was better for Madoka to just have all of her memories and powers yoinked away.

Sayaka is Madoka’s right hand girl so idk why Homura has this idea that she needs to sAvE Madoka. The fact that this whole thing comes out of a misunderstanding (because Madoka doesn’t have her memories) is so irritating.

Anonymous said:

I actually love Madoka Magica, but I completely agree with you on the hysterical women thing. Why couldn’t they just have... both magical girls and magical boys? Like, just mention that magical boys are a thing? They don’t even have to change anything but that, they don’t even really have to show it, just be like “yeah there’s magical boys too but that’s not really what this story is about, it’s about our characters we have here”. I don’t know, feels like that would have at least helped stuff.

Yeah, they don’t have to bother having the magical boys around. Just to know they exist would be enough. I mean, the fact that the focus is on them would still be bothersome (they’d probably do a thing where each girl represents a different emotion that is easily manipulated/easy to control), but it’d be something.

Anonymous said:

One thing that weirds me out when people are talking about Madoka Magica is when people refer to the characters as "little girls". Like, excuse me? They are not "little girls". They are teenagers! All of them are at least 14 years old! I hate when people call them "little", it's just so condescending and infantilizing, especially when the show does enough of that to them already. After all, no one makes that mistake with the heroines of Lucky Star and Hidamari Sketch(who are also drawn by Aoki)!

I feel like it’s the equivalent of when people call women “girls,” y’know? Sort of a “treating females as younger than they really are,” which is probably what gives guys the feeling that they have control.

For a gender that claims to be so dominant, certain ones sure have to delude themselves a lot to make themselves feel better.

Anonymous said:

I was thinking about what you said about Puella Magi Madoka Magica passing the Bechdel Test, and if it counts if there's barely any men to talk about. And while I do agree that it counts, I also feel that it doesn't really matter much in shows such as Madoka. This isn't even about feminism, this is about the fact that if a show has next to no men in it at all then it's pretty much a given that they won't talk about them since it would be impractical to talk about something that doesn't exist.

So because of that, I think there should either be an alternative test which only applies to shows that have a significant or equal number of male characters and yet the ladies still pass the test(making it feel more "real" since the option to talk about men is there), or the test should be rewritten entirely so that it only applies to shows in which the cast is either equally gender-split, or has a majority male cast/significant amount of males even if the females still outnumber them.

Reminds me of how, on TV Tropes, someone suggested that there should be a "Weak" and "Strong" Bechdel Test, where "Weak" refers to the women talking about something other than men because it is literally what's relevant at the moment(such as two female police officers discussing how to catch a female killer), thus applying the Bechdel Test there seems semi-void, while "Strong" is when they could talk about men but choose not to(ie. two female students talking about their grades during lunch).

And just to clarify about the "Strong" one, when I say they could talk about men but choose not to, this isn't to imply that female characters should talk about men, or that something's wrong with them for not talking about men, just that there's nothing stopping them from doing so, but they choose to talk about something unrelated to men. I think this strategy is much better than the test we have because it makes conversations between female characters seem more real since they're discussing things other than men of their own volition, rather than the non-male-centered talk being because they have to talk about it in-universe. I say that because The Bechdel Test serves to show that women's lives don't and shouldn't revolve around men, and they can talk about other things if they want to, but if the conversation is because they have to(like the example I gave), that gives sexists the opportunity to go "Yeah, well, they're only talking about it because it's their job!"

But if the female characters talk about things other than men of their own free will(as in, when the option is still there), then it shows that women really do have their own free will to talk about their own things and that there is NO REASON to not pass the Bechdel Test in today's day and age(I keep hearing people claim the test is stupid and doesn't matter, but then it should be easy to pass). "Oh, but if they had the choice, they would talk about men." No, because men don't sit around and talk about the women in their lives all day so why should women talk about the men in their lives all day? And to the people saying these types of tests are getting in the way of their "creativity", well, now that we know that you think female representation is stupid and something you have to be forced to do, we don't have to listen to a word you say. ;)

I like the idea of adjusting the Bechdel Test for other circumstances and expanding it as such!

You could also extend it to things like sexualization, because--I mean, having two female characters who talk to each other probably doesn’t mean much if they’re half-dressed or the writer wanted to make them bisexual for “The Fanservice.”

Anonymous said:

To be honest deconstructions of Magical Girl confuse me. There are some good ones out there(such as Princess Tutu and Revolutionary Girl Utena, so I know they're not all just torture porn, my only gripe with Utena is the implication that girls who take on the feminine "Princess" role are weak), but at its heart Magical Girl has always dealt with death, gore and pain just as much as female empowerment.

It makes me feel like the people who write these stories haven't seen magical girl and think it's all just sunshine and rainbows and that just because it's "girly" it's vapid and has no substance, and since the only way to have substance apparently is to be "dark", they go "screw it with all this princessy magical shit! Let's make our show dark instead!" When in reality if they had just sat down and watched a magical girl anime, they would understand that this is not the case.

Not to mention that many of them tend to have fanservice and the idea that magical girls have to suffer, so instead of empowering young girls, they end up misrepresenting the genre and turning it into fetish fuel torture porn for adult men(Madoka Magica and Yuki Yuna are very good examples of this; the writer of Madoka says that the girls are terrorists and full of hubris and that he was inspired by porn games). It's not that you can't deconstruct the genre at all, but it's almost never done tastefully and the magical girl themes are just a cover used to explain the suffering the girls go through. :(

Another thing about magical girl deconstructions is that they often reinforce patriarchal themes, like that girls shouldn't want things for themselves and that genuinely doing something for someone while also having ulterior motives that help yourself are a BAD BAD BAD thing, no matter how ultimately harmless they are, even if they help everybody involved. They also tend to reinforce Tall Poppy Syndrome and portray the powers as harmful or a bad thing, implying that girls shouldn't have power.

Honestly, I think there can totally be even more substance in magical girl anime that doesn’t have to resort to “make it eDgY” (which I feel like is a slippery slope that can easily come off as lazy); for example, I’d really enjoy seeing something deeper to magical girl powers than something like, “oh, this magical girl happens to have the power that fits their personality,” such as a magical girl who has a power she feels she doesn’t fit but it’s a matter of perspective/seeing herself differently, or a magical girl who does have the powers that “fit” her personality - like a “fiery” girl with fire powers - and the weaknesses in her powers correlate to the weaknesses in her personality, so she has to either iron out those issues or find workarounds, as true “perfection” isn’t possible nor practical, which is something all the girls have to accept despite whatever pressure they’re under.

.I dunno, I like lore and powers revolving around metaphors. It’s fun.

Anonymous said:

About what you said in regards to "no pueri magi because it doesn't hit the shock value threshold enough", I remember this interesting comment I saw on an article called "The Problem With The Dark Magical Girl Genre"(which I would totally recommend checking out, by the way!) which said that shojo magical girl and seinen magical girl both embrace a different philosophy regarding strong female fighters. In shojo, they tend to embrace femininity as a strength and show girls that they have the power to do whatever they want and undergo dangerous professions. But in seinen, which conveniently enough is more likely to "deconstruct" the genre(ugh), rather than admiring the girls and supporting them in their endeavors, the girls are meant to be pitied(often to the point of infantilization) when bad things happen to them, with the fact that they are girls serving to make everything worse. It operates under the idea that girls are fragile, in need of protection, and shouldn't be fighting at all.

That's why deconstructions like Madoka Magica and Yuki Yuna don't sit right with me, and also why I don't consider them feminist series. People can say whatever they want about Sailor Moon and Pretty Cure, but ultimately they also had dark and dangerous themes(to the point where some kids had nightmares), but ultimately allowed the girls to rise above the hell they went through and find the strength in them to save the day. We feel bad for them when they die, not because they're moe girls, but because we were actually given the time to form a connection with them and want to see them succeed, rather than just be expected to pity them because they're cute manipulated girls. That way, when they ultimately save the day, it's all the more satisfying. Princess Tutu was a deconstruction that actually went about it in the right way, because the girls eventually found the courage to defeat their enemies in a way that made sense. Why the hell is it a "good" thing to subvert that?

No clue, but I basically agree with everything there. I mean, Madoka Magica’s entire stick is basically that all the girls are like “uwu” in terms of the style (with Madoka being the “cutest” of them all) and then being put in this dark and edgy plot+setting; it’s for both the shock value and the “contrast” of having “moe” characters be thrust into these situations to essentially die.

And the conclusion doesn’t end up being satisfying (at least to me) because the villain doesn’t have emotions so he’s just like “owo” (seriously, I wouldn’t hate on Rebellion so much if Kyubey had been given emotions rather than going crazy; Homura can basically do whatever she wants and it was SUCH A MISSED OPPORTUNITY) so it ends up being more about the journey getting there like wow look at all the sUbvErSiOnS and dEaTh we had along the way!

Because at the end of the day, it’s still like, “the girls give into their ‘hysterical emotions’ in the end basically no matter what,” even if they get saved by Madoka in the end.

Anonymous said:

Do you remember, in Madoka Magica, when Kyubey said that humans would still be living in caves if not for the Incubators? First of all, keep in mind what Incubators do. Their entire purpose on this earth is to feed off the emotions of young teenage girls as they spiral into despair as a result of their delusions of power. Like wow, let that sink in. Apparently humanity's advancement relies on the exploitation of women. We are literally the punching bags of the universe. Isn't it lovely?

No! You see--we’re so important to the world! If we weren’t emotionally exploited, the world wouldn’t be the way it is now! :D

(kill me)

Anonymous said:

I once saw a tag on tumblr that read "The only good magical girl anime is Madoka Magica because it's gay, and even it has problems." Like, ugh. Really? Has this person not watched ANY other magical girl anime? Such ignorance. So many things wrong with that statement that I can't--and WON'T--even begin to unravel here.

MADOKA MAGICA IS NOT GAY AND I’M SO TIRED OF PEOPLE CLAIMING IT IS

s T O P

I DON’T EVEN CONSIDER YURI ON ICE TO BE GAY. MADOKA MAGICA? NAH MAN.

Anonymous said:

Do the girls in Madoka Magica even have transformation phrases? You know, like how Marinette says "Tikki, spots on!" or how Sailor Moon says "Moon Prism Power! Make-up!" or how Iris in LoliRock says "Iris! Princess of Ephedia!" etc. But in Madoka Magica, there doesn't seem to be any of that. At least in Yuki Yuna they pressed a button on their phones. But how do the Puellae Magi even transform? Just goes to show you how Gen Urobuchi knows next to nothing about the genre he claims to deconstruct.

Transformation phrases are magical and cool and you can’t take that away from me.

Anonymous said:

I had a shower thought about Madoka randomly in bed last night: If a Magical Girl's Soul Gem loses control over its user when 100 metres or further away from it, that meant that when Homura got Sayaka's Soul Gem back for her, Sayaka should've regained consciousness once Homura was less than 100 metres away, even if she didn't have her Soul Gem yet. I also love to ponder why on Earth Homura would even bother retrieving Sayaka's Soul Gem if she only cares about Madoka and Madoka's well-being.

I think it’s just a complicated process of Homura trying to make sure Madoka doesn’t fall into despair herself (in a non-witch way) and is convinced to make a wish.

Anonymous said:

The more I think about it, the more I realize that Sayaka really got the worst deal out of the whole thing. While her story may seem more "mundane" compared to the others(she just wanted the token Ill Boy osananajimi to like her back), she's the only one who somehow isn't brought back when Madoka recreates the universe, loses her Soul Gem on more than one account(and on the second, she starts decomposing and her crush sees her and calls her a monster because he thinks she's pretending to be the REAL Sayaka), is supposedly the weakest Magical Girl, getting swiftly taken out by both Kyoko AND Homura(the latter of which doesn't even make sense, if her body can heal why was she taken out so quickly?), takes a long while to show up in Magia Record, and Gen somehow finds it suiting to single her out as the one who is "destined to die" every time she makes a contract. Apparently the series director wanted Sayaka to live/be brought back, but Gen refused because it just had to be edgy.

Of course, MEN are allowed to have wish fulfillment power fantasies and dream like the sky's no limit and aspire to be all they want to be, but the second WOMEN try to be the strong ones, the powerful ones, or dream of something for themselves and others, they have to learn a lesson about how unrealistic their fantasies are and how they'll never live out their dreams. Hence why Sayaka puts the blame all on herself, saying that she's not a hero and was stupid and selfish the whole time.

"token Ill Boy osananajimi“ dfhbgjhfdgdfg

It was a real shame because I liked Sayaka somewhat (not saying much but still) and she was such a predictable one to go. Like, “oh wow, an angst-y anime all about shock value? so basically the best friend is dead then with no chance of survival.”

I think I do remember being told/reading somewhere (so don’t quote me) that Sayaka is the one that’s hardest to keep alive in the games, so you have to work hard for it. It just sucks.

Anonymous said:

Yet another thing that bothers me about Puella Magi is how the show frames the young ladies as if everything is their fault even though they have no idea what they're getting into because the person who makes the deal doesn't even bother explaining shit to them and all the show's attempts at deconstructing is just taking lighthearted elements meant to empower girls and show them that they can be brave and strong as well as feminine and make them dark and morbid.

Like, I get the whole "having young girls fight is a little unrealistic" aspect, but most magical girl shows actually do touch on that! Only difference is that over time, they become stronger and better at fighting(which is only to be expected, whether you're a teenage girl or not) and become more competent along the way because the whole genre is about FEMALE EMPOWERMENT.

Not to mention how the show seems to forget that the Incubators are villains and even seems to put them in the right and the girls in the wrong, what with the claim that they rationalize with the girls they make contracts with like sentient human beings(yeah, because emotionally manipulating young girls and literally taking their souls out of their bodies and making them liches without their consent is definitely treating them like sentient human beings), and that they always follow up on their end of the deal whereas it's the girls' faults their wishes go sour because they never wish for what they truly want(I'm sorry, but I simply DO NOT buy that. Homura and Mami outright wished for what they wanted. Their wishes went sour because the plot "decided" that they should have wished in a different way; plus, you're telling me that if Sayaka had outright said she wished "for Kyousuke to love her back" that the show wouldn't just "make" him mind-controlled or have Sayaka "outgrow" her feelings by the time he falls in love with her, all the while making it out to be "her" fault he's so heartbroken because she was some kind of tease or whatever, further demonizing girls' sexualities?).

Plus they explicitly claim that every woman in history was a magical girl and that without them, humanity would still be in caves(as in, humanity wouldn't be able to progress without the oppression and exploitation of women, and women can't gain power without going insane because female power is some unhealthy, inhuman, infernal thing.). Even if we take this all as a reflection of patriarchal society(which I highly doubt it was, if anything, it reinforces it), all it does is imply that the oppression of women is the natural order of things, required even.

As for the girls themselves, they routinely beat themselves up and the show makes no effort to tell them they're wrong(up until the massive cop-out of an ending), like how Sayaka's last words before becoming a witch are literally her "admitting" that she was "stupid, so stupid" for wanting a boy to love her and be healed of his infirmity. It just seems like we're supposed to think "you know, maybe the Incubators aren't that bad!" while ignoring that the girls are being treated like the disposable trash bags of the universe. This show already does the magical girl genre dirty but treating it like everything the Incubators did was necessary and like it's all the girls' faults these things happened to them in the first place is the icing on the stale, sour cake. Nothing like a giant heap of sexism to help get you through your day. :/

I’ve noticed this a lot in Miraculous, but Madoka Magica somehow does it worse; this “one (supposed) mistake leads to all of these consequences you never saw coming.”

Like Ladybug calling Lila out. We know that Lila’s pettiness in “Chameleon” shows that it wouldn’t matter whether Ladybug yelled at her or not; the simple fact that Marinette opposes a liar led to Marinette getting expelled, even if only for a while. Then there’s “Miracle Queen” and all that garbage that came with it.

These two shows put their teenage girls through hell for having emotions and there’s no way to undo it.

Anonymous said:

Honestly, the Madoka Magica fandom is basically the magical girl equivalent of "not like other girls" type women. I can't say I'd be surprised if they didn't watch a single magical girl show other than Madoka because they're all "stupid and girly but this one is edgy and dark" just because those shows are written by women to inspire other girls and show femininity as a strength while Madoka Magica is written by men for men who want to see young girls suffer without any actual feminism.

Like, let's go through their arguments one-by-one to prove that they don't hold up. They love to say that Madoka Magica is better than other Magical Girl shows because "it's dark and edgy and shows the downsides to being a Magical Girl unlike other shows where it's all sunshine and lollipops". First of all, other Magical girl shows also got very dark. Princess Tutu and Utena are also "darker" takes on the genre, but even more lighthearted shows like Sailor Moon and Precure had scary moments.

The only difference is, with them, they still managed to critique problematic aspects of the genre and actually provided ways to improve it, while STILL managing to keep their target audience(FEMALES) in mind, without condescending to them and infantilizing them. And they still showed the girls being empowered and overcoming the darkness.

In Madoka, there's none of that, there's no actual critique of the genre because Gen didn't have the respect for it to do his research, it's aimed at men so it doesn't keep female viewers in mind by definition(which is also another reason why it can't be a deconstruction; deconstructions should be done FOR its target audience), and the girls are constantly put down and treated like Moe crybabies by the narrative even when they're not(cause, you know, teenage girls are "emotional"!). And it doesn't offer ways the genre could improve, it just takes a female-empowering genre and twists it to be this system of oppression that the genre is meant to avoid.

Magical Girls tend to have a very strong focus on girls empowering girls and all that awesome stuff, and yet when Madoka and Mami form a special bond and Madoka encourages Mami by telling her she's not alone? It makes her big-headed and overconfident and she gets devoured by Charlotte. See what happens when girls rely on each other? Madoka is Sayaka's best friend, but gets pushed aside in favor of Kyoko, who later dies for Sayaka because girls who want to help each other had better be prepared to suffer and die for their beliefs. Sayaka loses everything, which happens to include her best friend, over a guy. And the whole witch process means that any female solidarity that could be found in the show is thrown out the window since the core concept of the show is girls being forced to brutalize and kill and exploit each other.

People act like Madoka is Yuri when it's not, Gen was asked if Homura really was in love with Madoka and if Kyoko really was in love with Sayaka, and what did he do? He beat around the bush. Naoko Takeuchi and Kunihiko Ikuhara(the latter of whom also worked on Sailor Moon R; woah, what a surprise) both admitted that there was gay love in their stories, yet people act like Madoka is super progressive regarding homosexuality when it's just implied and those shows were MUCH more open! Doesn't stop people from claiming the show is "honorary yuri" and saying that the meaning of "yuri" should be broadened to include any close bonds between two female characters, whether or not it's actually romantic, AND favoring the show(and HomuMado) above actual yuri shows that are made to appeal to women. If all this were actually valid, Sailor Moon would be yuri as hell.

I hate seeing people fap over this show and act like it's so revolutionary for recycling things that the genre was ALREADY DOING, because I know full well that the ONLY reason it gets this wide acclaim is because Magical Girl shows have traditionally been written for women and this show is aimed at men. That's literally it. Because nothing a woman writes is good enough, especially when it dares to go against patriarchal constructs of femininity as weak and docile by portraying it as cool and awesome. It doesn't matter how cool and dark and diverse and inclusive and complex Sailor Moon and Precure and Princess Tutu and Utena are, they're written by/for women with the intention of empowering them so they're automatically invalid, cheap, happy-go-lucky crap where nothing bad ever happens and anything those shows try to do ought to be discredited because they don't appeal to men like they should so what's the point?

But the second a MAN comes in and intrudes on a female-dominated space by doing all of those things but with a very shallow understanding of how they ought to be executed, people are all over it because a MAN did it and now it's interesting and respectable! I have seen so many people say that they don't like Magical Girl because it's girly and shallow and stupid, but then they praise Madoka for things that the girly and "shallow" shows have already done! Men are always taking away things meant for women and distorting it to fit their patriarchal views and yet when they do it it's somehow better and anyone who complains is simply a whiny straw feminist!

The fandom does it all the time, someone complains about the show and why they don't like it and find it sexist, and the response is always "you're just not smart enough to understand it; you have no idea what you just watched". Because obviously since it's made by a man it's sooo much smarter then the traditional sappy stuff made by women. That's why it's so annoying when others praise it at the expense of other works in the genre: they know their reasons for liking it are, more often than not, rooted in sexism against female-aimed and female-empowering works, so the only way they can praise it is at the expense of said works, hence them being just like girls who claim they're "not like other girls" when there's nothing wrong with girls being feminine and in fact many of those girls may like the same things you do!

So while I'm not saying there's anything inherently WRONG with liking Madoka, I DO have a problem with people who act like it's better or more serious than other shows in the genre and simply discard them on the grounds that they're "for girls", since they obviously didn't watch them.

me when I initially watched Madoka Magica: I don’t get why this exists.

me when I learned it was written by a man: ohhh, now I get it.

I also take issue with people comparing things that are made for different demographics. Like look, I don’t care if you enjoy your angst display over here, but also maybe don’t compare it to the stuff not even made for you unless you’re willing to get into a fight over it?

It comes off wrong, like they have to trash on stuff because it wasn’t made for them, y’know?

Anonymous said:

Honestly, I am so sick of people saying that Magical Girl shows are sexist or anti-feminist, when all they do is portray girls being awesome and powerful while also being feminine at the same time, because "Well in Japan it's actually gender conformity because it's telling girls they can only be strong if they're feminine! You're just projecting your Western values onto an Eastern work!".

First of all these shows are made by women for women and often have explicit feminine messages that you literally cannot miss unless you are simply blind or trying not to see them. And they also tend to have a very strong focus on women supporting or empowering other women. Just think of Sailor Moon, which constantly gets this "criticism", and yet there's an episode where the girls explicitly protest against a villain who claims women are all shallow and useless and can't do anything without men's help. Would Naoko Takeuchi put that in the show if she weren't a feminist?

And then there's the fact that she has said that one message she wanted the female leads to convey was to value their relationships between other girls because girls are strong and don't need to waste time depending on men. There's also the fact that most Magical Girl shows tend to treat the powers as something special and awesome that's unique to women and girls, paired with the coming-of-age themes present in the show, and you get a magical equivalent of female puberty, with magic mixed in.

But no, all of that gets thrown out the window because they dare to be "feminine" while doing all of that stuff and the Japanese are forcing their girls to be girly through Magical Girl propaganda. And I just HATE when people act like anything feminine must be societally forced onto girls, rather than girls just happening to like them. In addition, stating that they are simply reinforcing gender roles by being feminine is such bullshit because the whole purpose isn't about conforming to patriarchal femininity, it's about reclaiming femininity.

Too often, femininity is associated with being weak, powerless, helpless, submissive, docile, vapid, catty, bitchy, petty, vain, stupid, the list goes on. Magical Girl saves femininity from a bad reputation. It shows femininity in a new light, as something strong and powerful and, hell, even admirable! It's about telling girls "Hey, you can be strong and powerful and smart, but you don't have to be a tomboy or act like a man to do so". Girls are always told they have to act masculine to be taken seriously because the only way to be respected is to be like a man, which is an indirect way of saying that only men deserve respect.

Magical Girl does away with all that in favor of showing the feminine as something innately powerful, and yet naysayers MISS the point and say that it's just stereotyping girls instead. To see people claim that Magical Girl forces girls to fit a feminine ideal to be respected is just disappointing. It's supposed to be a female power fantasy for young girls that shows them as the ones being powerful and empowering each other.

Take how in Sailor Moon the heroine often says something along the lines of "I won't let you take advantage of girls", which Wedding Peach went on to imitate. The purpose of the genre is for girls. To empower girls. So why on earth would they show them fitting into a "male" mould of power? Do these people think that any time women are shown acting distinct from men that they are doing something wrong?

And the hypocritical part is that nobody pisses on male-oriented anime for reinforcing a harmful narrative to boys that they have to be masculine to be valued and respected. Of course they don't! Because being "masculine" is never seen as a bad thing to be. It's assumed that masculinity is always strong and good and awesome and there's nothing wrong with boys being forced to be masculine because you're supposed to want to be masculine. You're not supposed to want to be feminine.

So of course people will shit all over Magical Girl for embracing, empowering, and reclaiming femininity, because it's not supposed to be that way! You're not supposed to be feminine and also be strong. You're supposed to deny your identity as a woman and assimilate into the boys' club because only boy things are worthwhile! And they cover it up by saying that Magical Girl forces girls to be feminine, when in actuality the WORLD forces girls to be MASCULINE. Magical Girl doesn't force girls to be feminine, It ALLOWS them to. Do you see the difference there?

Another thing I'd like to bring to the table is that the claim is racist and here's why: The claim that "Magical Girl shows are seen as feminist in the US for portraying femininity as a source of strength but not in Japan because it's telling girls they have to be feminine"...what does that mean? Japanese people can't be feminist? All Japanese people are sexists and think girls have to fit in a certain role? Do Japanese feminists HAVE to be anti-femininity? Are there literally no Japanese people who think you can be feminine AND strong(who also obviously identify as feminists?) Because it seems hella sexist to insinuate that Magical Girl shows are sexist because they're made in Japan and they don't believe you can be feminine AND strong there.

While there is some credibility to it since Japan IS, by and large, much more strict with gender roles, hasn't it ever occurred to these people that these types of shows exist to counter that belief? Not only that, but it implies that people aren't allowed to have opinions on works that aren't made in their culture, and that anyone who sees those shows as feminist are just projecting their Western beliefs onto an Eastern work. And even worse, when people say that, they don't have the same opinion of Western Magical Girl works.

Just look at LoliRock, Miraculous Ladybug, Winx, W.I.T.C.H., Star vs the Forces of Evil, and countless other European/Western Magical Girl works. Where are the people saying "They get their power from femininity and that is sexist!"? Nowhere! They're silent! Even though those are very much like Magical Girl works from Japan(although I don't think the genre originated from there), while still being original.

It's because people think that any media exported from Japan is automatically sexist and demeaning and so anything they create, no matter how empowering their intentions, gets twisted into something that's somehow toxic or unsafe for girls to watch. But when Europeans do the exact same thing nobody complains. Because Japan is not allowed to do anything empowering whatsoever; something's always wrong with it, apparently.

So that's why I have a problem with people who say those things; it's so problematic because they think they're being all open-minded and aware/respectful of other people's cultures, but all they're doing is reinforcing negative stereotypes further. It's kinda like what I said earlier(in another ask) about how people love to praise Madoka Magica for being a unique, dark, and interesting take on the genre when all it did was rehash elements of the genre that already existed, strip away the female empowerment, and gear it towards grown men, which is why people like it more. How about instead of speaking for Japanese people you let them speak for themselves?!

I would also like to add that there’s even a limit to women acting masculine because that’s still “not enough” for those kinda of men who would promote those beliefs. Women need to act more masculine to “be taken seriously” but then you have men who’ll tell them to “dress less” or whatever.

I think what it comes down to is that they want women to not be “emotionally taxing” with all those dAmN eMoTioNs of theirs (unless it’s for the sake of their angsty magical girl anime where the girls suffer for having emotions), but they also need to look pretty and be sexualized.

We can’t win.

[chestnut-b]

Himawari - Chapter 5

A request to kindly reblog if you like the art or the story! (Still not appearing in tags, unfortunately ;_; Thank you so much!

Chapter 5 of a Demon Slayer AU.

“Please don’t go hoisting your parental duties on me just yet, sensei. Do you really want to entrust Naruto’s growth to a guy who reads Icha Icha Paradise?”

Or worse, writes it. Iruka could only laugh. He couldn’t remember when he’d laughed this freely before.

He’d have to find a way to live forever now.

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

All Kakashi had to do was follow the yelling. Naruto’s, specifically. 

Swiftly, he navigated the dark tunnels, stopping only to orient himself at the numerous forks along the way. When Naruto’s voice faded, his ears picked up the sound of waves and rushing water. That too, lasted a few short seconds before dissipating into soft echoes, but Kakashi knew he was close. The stench of death was growing stronger with each step.

He arrived just in time to see Iruka, standing seemingly still in a shallow pool of water at the base of a huge cavern, Naruto clinging to his side. Their backs bore signs of having been dragged a distance, Iruka’s more than Naruto’s. Kakashi couldn’t see if they’d sustained any injuries, but knowing the teacher, he must have taken the brunt of it on their way down here.

He gazed at Iruka’s form. That defensive stance… a breath technique?

His curiosity piqued, Kakashi resisted the urge to act, instead choosing to mask his presence. There was barely enough light being emitted from the pool for him to get a view of their grim surroundings. The corpses of beasts, predator and prey alike, littered every nook and cranny, some hung from the stalactite-covered ceiling as skeletal, brittle husks.

Soon, an ominous rattling reached his ears, followed by what could only be described as a grotesque symphony of hisses, groans and moving parts. 

“Mare..chi…what a feast...ha..haha...it’s been a while since I’ve had a human meal..”a wretched voice echoed, already drunk with hunger.

Well, that confirmed it, Kakashi cursed inwardly. He’d left the cave obediently at Iruka’s request, and now they were facing a demon that was already salivating at the thought of rare blood. The slayer hadn’t spoken, nor had he moved an inch despite Naruto’s presence beside him. His hands were poised to draw his blade from its sheath at a moment’s notice. 

The pool at his feet started to ripple in slow, rhythmic pulses. 

There it was again. Kakashi felt a familiar, gentle wave pass over him. His presence had been felt, but Iruka made no appeal for assistance.

Let’s see what you’re made of, Iruka-sensei. 

A single piece of rock fell from the ceiling, creating a secondary wave of ripples in the water. Kakashi spied a snaking form in the reflection, and in the next instant, the foe descended upon the pair.

Legs, too many legs. Kakashi cringed inwardly. 

He hated centipedes. 

A demon large enough to hunt monsters for prey, with a long, segmented body twice as thick as a human adult. The demon’s face and neck were nowhere to be seen, though he had a good idea of where it was hidden.

There was a flash of metal, followed by a terrible shriek of pain. The demon fell and thrashed violently in the water. With a shining blue blade, Iruka had managed to fend off the first strike, slicing off a row of legs in the process. 

But there wasn’t enough strength behind Iruka’s blow to have dealt significant damage to the main body, Kakashi observed. If the path of his blade had strayed, there would have been trouble. It had been a concentrated effort, judging from the deep, controlled exhale that followed.

The teacher had taken the chance to jump back with Naruto, increasing the distance between them and their foe. The boy let out a taunt, but was quickly silenced with an extended arm and a hushed admonishment. 

Just as the demon found its bearings, Iruka reached into the sleeve of his haori and in the next instant, three kunai had found their marks deep in the crevices of the centipede’s body, this time producing a sputter of indignant rage as tiny streams of blood seeped into the pool.

With a shrill shriek, the mouth of the creature pried open, and out emerged a humanesque head and torso, its skin pale and wet. Veins of purple had started to snake up its neck.

Naruto failed to rein in his cry of disgust. 

“You bastard...wisteria?!” The thing screamed bloody murder. 

Iruka kept silent, walking towards the demon while staring it down with an unrelenting glare. This seemed to enrage it even more, for it backed up, coiling like a snake preparing to strike. In its delirium, it opted for a head-on attack, lunging straight for the approaching slayer with blinding speed. 

“Iruka-nii!” 

The slayer’s strike had only opened a wide gash in its torso as it whipped past. Iruka hadn’t expected the change in trajectory. Naruto had already started running his way, and the demon adjusted its course for retaliatory strike. 

“Get down!” Iruka screamed. 

The boy took to the ground, arms over his head. Iruka shielded him with his own body, bracing for a direct hit.

However, nothing came but a wet crash and an inhuman screech. Iruka lifted his head in time to see one of the severed segments drop onto the ground beside him. 

“Iruka-sensei, I don’t think this is what you meant when you said we’d be in time for dinner.” 

Kakashi turned his head for a moment to beam moronically at the teacher. Iruka sighed in response, but favoured him with an exasperated smile in return anyway. Kakashi found himself thinking; while a glare was always an interesting look on Iruka, nothing quite looked as natural on him as a smile.

The teacher had taken a few bumps on the way down, a cut on his head bled worse than it actually was, but other than that, Kakashi saw no reason for alarm, 

A sharp interruption broke his train of thought.

“Shut up. You’re late!” Naruto berated him.

Kakashi rolled his eyes, as he was prone to doing when around the boy. 

He wasn’t late; it was in fact, a strategically delayed entry. 

Nevertheless, the Hashira approached the writhing demon, gleaming black blade in hand.

“Hey, where’s your master? I’ll make it a painless death if you tell me.” 

There was no coherent or useful answer to be gleaned in the screams that followed. 

”That’s a pity. Well, be seeing you then.” 

Contrary to his threat, Kakashi took the demon’s head clean off with one silent, clean strike. Soon after, the body started its slow disintegration into black ash. 

“May you find peace...and light on the other side.” 

He knew full well it wasn’t meant for him, but something in that gentle voice made Kakashi’s heart stir in a way it hadn’t for a long time. For a moment, his father’s visage surfaced in his mind. 

He turned back to the pair, only to see Iruka looking into the eyes of the fallen demon. On his exhausted face was a genuinely forlorn expression. The demon stared silently, but a single tear joined the rest of the pool at their feet, creating a final ripple before the last of the body disappeared for good.

“Iruka-nii!” Naruto cried, bearing the now slumped Iruka on his shoulder. He’d lost consciousness. 

Kakashi flicked the blood off his sword before returning it to its sheath, doing the same for Iruka’s. He passed the sheathed blade to Naruto before picking the teacher up into his arms. Truthfully, he would have wanted to see the reaction on his face had he been awake, but instead Kakashi was met with another somber realisation; Iruka was a half a head shorter than Kakashi at most, but his weight scarcely reflected it. He didn’t have time to ponder for long before a subdued voice spoke out.

“Is he going to be ok?” It was one of those times when Naruto sounded the most like the 7 year old child he was. 

“He’ll be fine. Sensei’s stronger than he looks.”

His gaze lingered on Iruka’s worn face just a bit longer. 

When my time comes, will you pray for me too, sensei?

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

 Sound was always the first thing to come to him when he woke up. He remembered the chirping of birds or summer cicadas, his mother’s humming as she laid out breakfast, or his father’s stern but warm voice as he trained at dawn.

In this place was the gentle crackle of a fire, the rush of trees and grass swaying in the wind, and the rhythmic pitter-patter of a light rain hitting stone. On his right could only be Naruto’s soft snoring. The weight of fabric over his shoulders felt like a warm embrace. He wanted desperately to lose himself in the sheer comfort of the composition, but Iruka knew he was not lying in his room or in his bed. 

Cautiously, he opened his eyes to see a soft orange glow in the stone ceiling above him. 

“Good evening, sensei.” 

And there was Kakashi. 

Iruka cringed as he struggled to sit himself upright, every part of him ached. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he could feel every bump and bruise all over again. He turned to his right to see Naruto, sleeping like a log, wrapped in Iruka’s haori. Seeing that, he looked down at his own lap to see what could only be Kakashi’s haori. It was a deep maroon that at times shone a silk-like black under the right light. It was beautiful, and, looking at it up close like he was now, easy to get lost in its richness. He removed his arms from under the coat, and was surprised to see the cuts and scrapes that his hands had suffered had been cleaned and carefully bandaged. The red braided cord he used to tie his hair was neatly rolled and left in his palm. 

“I had to look into your bag to see if there was anything we could use, sorry sensei.”

The Hashira had saved their lives, and now he was apologising? Iruka wondered if all the pillars were as odd as this one. Iruka shook his head before taking in his surroundings. They were still in the same cave, and judging from the height of the moon outside, it was just after midnight.

The wind brought a slight chill, but the worst of it was fended off by the warmth of the fire and the haori that had been draped over him. His hair, now spilling over his shoulders, protected his neck from the worst of the cold. He turned to Kakashi, dressed in only the standard blacks, gently lit by the moonlight as he sat closer to the mouth of the cave. 

He looks cold. 

“How are you feeling?”

Like crap, if he was going to be truthful. But it must have been miles better than being a drained shell of a meal for a demon. 

“I’ll survive.” 

Iruka struggled to his feet. Taking the haori along with him, he offered it back to Kakashi, who merely smiled and shook his head. 

“You should get back to sleep. You need it.”

“Right. So we’re sharing then.”

“What?”

Iruka draped the haori back onto Kakashi’s shoulders. But instead of returning to where he’d been lying, he plopped himself bodily next to Kakashi, pressing their shoulders together before wrapping the other half of the haori around himself. Kakashi let out a warm, amused chuckle that vibrated through his battered body. He dug his face into his knees. The heat he felt rising to his cheeks wasn’t from the warmth of the fire. 

“That’s what you get for being stubborn about it.”

“Oh sensei, If we’re going to be children here, how about a bed-time story?”

There was a rustle of paper, and Iruka lifted his head to see a very child-unfriendly woodblock-printed illustration shoved right in his face.

“What the hell is this?!” He hissed indignantly, swatting the book away from his face. Kakashi’s hand retreated with it before any damage could have been dealt.

“Jiraiya-sensei’s latest work. Icha-Icha Paradise: Romance in the Floating World! He left the manuscript in his-, I mean, my room, as a way of keeping me occupied while I play babysitter.” 

Iruka swore he had never heard the man sound this happy. He looked so satisfied thumbing through the book with the brightest orange washi-paper cover he’d ever seen that Iruka couldn’t help but think himself an idiot. Because, even just for a moment, he’d thought Kakashi looked quite dignified, sitting there in the moonlight. 

Iruka had never been so wrong. 

Beside him sat the strongest of the Hashira, legendary user of multiple breath-styles; Hatake Kakashi, and he was reading porn in a cave. Iruka was dumbstruck.

Maybe this is all a dream, or maybe I did get eaten by the demon and I’m in hell where I belong.

But Naruto was here too, so that couldn’t be it. He groaned, rubbing his forehead. That had been carefully bandaged too. 

“I suppose this is why you didn’t try to get us back tonight.” He’d shown Kakashi the map, he knew where the entry points were.

Kakashi nodded solemnly. “I hate getting wet even under normal circumstances. If Jiraiya found out I destroyed his manuscript, well, I’m not sure if there will be any of me left for the demons, sensei.” He didn’t know if the shiver Kakashi produced was real or mere parody.

“Plus, it’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” 

Iruka couldn’t deny that part. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept rough like this, but he felt the same sentiment. He’d remember this night, and not just for the scenery and soundscape.

Jiraiya-sama. It wasn’t the first time he had met the man, but he’d taken the task of observing Naruto even less seriously than Kakashi had at first, spending most of his time in the town taverns or in his room. He’d requested a good supply of paper and ink blocks upon his arrival. So this is what they were for. Iruka sighed, what a waste of good writing materials. As if they weren’t troublesome enough to obtain too. 

The books though; he’d seen them as he browsed the town’s bookshops. They stood out in the most indiscreet fashion possible, Iruka’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to them. Kotetsu had been bugging him to buy one on his trips there, but once he saw the title, he decided there were definitely better uses for his limited savings. He never expected the author and the esteemed retired Hashira to be one in the same Jiraiya. 

The sounds of water that surrounded them made Iruka realise how thirsty he was. He placed a hand on his throat in an attempt to soothe it. Another article was soon in his line of sight, a bamboo water canteen. 

“Sorry I couldn’t get it to you sooner.” He’d sounded genuinely apologetic, and it wasn’t just about the water either. Iruka shook his head. He’d have apologised too, for being this weak, but Kakashi had witnessed it for himself plenty by now. Nevertheless, he took the water gratefully. Gingerly, he reached into his pocket, taking out a small sachet. He emptied its contents into his mouth before taking a large swig of water. 

From the day he was born, it never failed to taste absolutely awful.

Kakashi chuckled. The reaction on his face must have been too obvious.

“Mustn’t be easy being a Senju huh, Umino Iruka-kun.”

Iruka blinked at him before bursting out laughing. He was grateful Kakashi had waited for him to swallow before bringing that one out. 

How many years had it been since he’d heard those two names in the same sentence. 

“You must have been a great student, Kakashi-san.”

“Quite the contrary, Minato-sensei was just about ready to kill me himself. Too many questions can be a problem, apparently.”

If there was a time Iruka could relate to Naruto’s late Father, it was right at this moment. 

“When did you realise?” Iruka sighed, he’d laughed so hard, he had to wipe the tears out of the corners of his eyes. 

Kakashi turned his head, his one eye, grey as stone, gazed at him warmly.

“Maa, my suspicions were just about confirmed today, actually.” 

“Please, do enlighten me.” 

Kakashi made a pleased sound, nodding his head. 

“Firstly, Sarutobi doesn’t take just anyone as a student. No offence, sensei, but physically speaking, you’re not the strongest combatant. So there had to be other reasons for him to keep you around, especially knowing what happened between you and Naruto that day.”

Iruka nodded slowly. He’d barely made it through every Hashira training session that Kakashi had been instructed to conduct when he was posted at the school. Iruka, like everyone else there, dreaded those days the most,

“Secondly, Your earrings. Sea-glass from the Uzumaki coast, and a bit too expensive for a commoner’s family. It’s not just where the Uzumaki came from, the Senju had long been there before moving further east. Not the strongest evidence, I admit, but there it is.” 

Unconsciously, Iruka’s hand had moved to touch the earring on his left ear. The only things he had left of his Mother.

“Thirdly, that troublesome condition of yours. The stuff you take for it, smells just like what they get delivered to the main estate. Not envious of that one at all, sensei.”

Iruka chuckled, and swore to himself he’d sneak it into Kakashi’s tea one day. It would be a difficult task, with his hound-like sense of smell, but he’d find a way. 

“Anything else?”

“Hmmm. A man you share your family name with, Umino Ikaku, famously spiriting away Kohari, a Daughter of Senju, even one from a minor branch family, caused a bit of a stir at the time, even though I was a kid when I heard about it. Father found it pretty amusing, like a Shinobi love-story come to life. Maybe that’s where I got it from.” He mused, waving the book in his hand.

That he had the audacity to even mention the two stories in the same breath. It was enough to make Iruka burst a blood vessel, but he settled for a hard shove in Kakashi’s direction. If he was lucky, that book would find itself tinder for the fire by sunrise. 

“Also.” Kakashi continued, glancing at the red cord bunched in Iruka’s fist. It had been gifted to him by his Father when he’d hit his first bullseye with a kunai.

“You may not know this, but with your hair down, you’re a splitting image of Oyakata-sama.”

Iruka sighed. He’d never stepped foot on the Senju Estate, never set eyes on the great Senju-Hashirama. Sometimes, his Mother would mention it as she combed through his hair, how much they looked alike. But Iruka had no point of reference, and so had never thought much about it. 

But in hindsight, Sarutobi had always been soft on him. The Hashira designation wasn’t that old, and Sarutobi had been one of the first named Hashira, after the great founder himself. Great warriors, all, each carrying part of his name into battle with their sworn enemies.

Iruka started when he felt a gloved hand grab his. Kakashi lifted it up and pulled the sleeve back, looking at his arm as if he expected something to materialise if he stared hard enough.

“I’d ask you for your password, but we both know nothing will come of it. Right, sensei?”

Checkmate. 

He’d never been through the final selection, and was thus, a rankless pretender.

Iruka took back his arm and hugged his knees. Despite the fire and Kakashi’s warmth beside him, he felt the chill of guilt spread through his body.

“The Senju lead the Slayers, send good men and women to die for their mistakes, and yet…...we can’t join them.” 

“Well, but here you are on the ground. Fighting alongside everyone else. I think that’s pretty admirable, wouldn’t you say?”

Iruka glanced at the sleeping boy, He’d done well today. Despite the chaos of his first demon encounter, he kept himself calm, as calm as Naruto could be, anyway. Children of experienced slayers might not have stood as steadily as he did. His reaction to the wisteria gave Iruka so much hope too, even if the boy didn’t realise it himself. 

He’d be a fine warrior one day, if he chose to walk the path. 

“Naruto’s going to get stronger and stronger. Eventually, I’ll just be a burden on him.” Iruka whispered, how many times had he regretted his weakness, his cursed inheritance. 

“On the contrary, sensei. You showed him there’s someone out there who’s willing to lay down their life for him.” Kakashi’s voice was as warm as the fire. “He kept watch over you until he fell asleep, you know. He’s not going to forget what you did for him. What you continue to do for him, every day.” 

Iruka burrowed his head deeper. He was so tired, there were no more tears to let fall.

“Kakashi-san, if I’m not around……”

“Please don’t go hoisting your parental duties on me just yet, sensei. Do you really want to entrust Naruto’s growth to a guy who reads Icha Icha Paradise?” 

Or worse, writes it. Iruka could only laugh. He couldn’t remember when he’d laughed this freely before. He’d have to find a way to live forever now. He lifted his head to look Kakashi in the eye. 

“You know, the Senju are famously short lived.” 

“And wielders of black blades and demon marks are said to be short-lived too. Slayers fall in battle every day, sensei. You could say that we are the lucky ones.” He said, tapping his eye-patch. 

For the second time that night, Iruka felt tremendously stupid. 

“So, if you want to keep me accountable, try to outlive me, won’t you, Umino Iruka-sensei? For both our sakes.” An arm had landed around Iruka’s shoulders. 

Warm. Kakashi had stripped him bare, but he’d never felt this way, not since his parents left. But he had no strength left to cry, and so his response was reduced to a single nod.

“Even if I hadn’t been there, I know you would have protected him no matter what, Iruka.” His voice was already slipping away.  

Kakashi was a weird Hashira. 

Those were his last thoughts as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

For the first time in years, Iruka dreamt of his parents, still alive, and it was a happy, warm dream. 

 Author’s Notes:

A nice meaty chapter which much to chew on! A chapter which was a joy to write from start to finish. I’d love to hear what you think about it (and the reveals at the end!) 

Terminology:

Marechi: Humans with Rare Blood, drives demons mad with hunger.

Password and Rank: Confirmed slayers have their rank engraved on their arms, it's supposed to appear using a password.

Oyakata-sama: Another term for 'leader'.

[elfy-elf-imagines]

Cruel Summer | Orophin

Pairing: Orophin x Human!reader

Genre: Angst with some fluff at the end

Warnings: Heartbreak; unrequited feelings...??

Words: ~5,222 (oh boy is it a long one)

Note: If you’d like to be added to a tag list for any of my works, there’s a link on my page! I hope you all enjoy this one, it was a real treat to write! ♡

“I didn’t realise a forest could be so beautiful,” you whispered, staring in awe at the towering trees that shined like silver. The night sky was nothing new to you, nor the moon and the stars, yet they seemed more captivating in Lothlorien than anywhere else. The moon burned as bright if not brighter than the sun, illuminating everything in its silvery glow. Stars dotted the sky, glistening like bright torches in a dark room. 

Lothlorien had been beautiful during the day time, the golden leaves so vibrant and unreal, you could swear someone painted them. You’d thought that beauty would be unmatched until night fell. Everything once golden and blinding is now soft and silver, the trees glittering like fine jewels. And it was perfect, the inner peace and calm Lothlorien brought to you was unmatched. 

The sound of footsteps came from behind, gaining your attention. Turning around you see Orophin, still wearing his grey cloak that marked him a Warden of Lorien and the light armor all the rangers wore. His silvery hair that would’ve put any Targaryen to shame was pulled back in its typical fashion. He was beautiful-- well all elves were beautiful, something you’d learned rather quickly, but Orophin radiated another type of beauty. His beauty was more akin to a predator luring in it’s prey of choice with enchanting words and a pretty face, luring you into a thrilling game you always lost. 

You knew he was dangerous, an alarm in the back of your mind going off every time he gets too close or graces you with a look that was lethal to your wellbeing. But instead of sending you running like it should have, it lured you in closer and closer, like a moth drawn to a flame. It’s dangerous-- he’s dangerous. 

But you never seem to listen.

“I ithil a elena thind in ennerion na i er nin,” he said, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. A smile that promised nothing but pain and heartbreak, but also the thrill that comes with gambling, even when you know you’re going to lose. And you will lose, it’s just a matter of when and not if. 

“That’s not fair, you know I can hardly understand Sindarin, especially not when you speak it so fast,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing the slightest as you scowled. Orophin raised an ashen eyebrow at you, and you couldn’t help but feel envious at the lack of lines on his perfectly smooth forehead. His grin widened as his eyes glinted with mischief, and slowly like a prowling lion, he moved towards you.

 “I said, you are beautiful my dear, but you would’ve known that if you would pay attention during our lessons.” he said, eyes noticeably tracing your form. Your face flushed red immediately, images of you and Orophin, tangled together in your room, nothing but a sweaty flustered mess in your bed. Heat spread through your body as you remembered his icy lips on your hot body. 

And he knew it, that bastard knew the effect he had on you. It was obvious in his expression, like a cat that got the cream. 

“Or maybe you aren’t as great of a teacher as you like to think?” you shot back, mentally throwing ice cold water on yourself. Get a grip you idiot! 

“Oh? My lady wounds me! How will I ever hope to recover from such harsh words? Please, tell Rumil I’ve never enjoyed his singing and tell Haldir ho na burui hon in a adaneth,” he proclaimed, snickering towards the end. You pinched the bridge of your nose and exhaled loudly. 

“Orophin! How am I supposed to tell Haldir what you said… if I can’t understand you?” 

One.

Two.

Three steps.

Orophin waas close enough that you’re sure he could hear how rapidly your heart was beating against your chest, how uneven and shallow you breathing was. His eyes glanced down your form, slowly travelling back up to your face. His pale blue eyes glittered like sapphires as his soft hand reached out to touch you. His long fingers delicately traced your body, leaving you a shivering mess as you attempted to maintain a calm composure. Your head was nothing but static as your face grew hotter with each passing second, despite the cold air hitting you.

“Well then perhaps we continue those lessons?” he asked, the smirk on his face growing wider with each unsteady inhale of air. 

“Right now?” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He simply nodded his head, his smirk turning into a full blown grin. It was wicked and fatal and positively sinful. You attempted to pull back, your mind screaming at you to not fall back into what you knew to be a honey trap. But instead of backwards you moved forward, desperate to get as close as physically possible to him, but even then it wasn’t enough.  

“But someone could see, the Warden’s heavily patrol this close to the city,” you said, eyes widening a fraction as you stare up at Orophin. His finger moves up your body and to your face, tracing your cheekbones with a phantom touch. 

“Let’s hope they have enough courtesy to not interrupt, these lessons are paramount to your stay here in Galadhrim.” 

Before you could even breath, he brought his face down towards the crook of your neck. And when his face was only a few centimeters away from making contact with your skin, he paused. The warm breath that hit your skin felt like a frost storm compared to the heat building in you.

“Im innas na harno cin, nin lend lóth” 

“Im innas na harno cin, nin lend lóth.” The phrase felt jagged and rough, the elven dialect still foreign from your lips, while Orophin’s were smooth as silk. 

“Good, it seems you’ve learned more than originally thought,” he muttered, the vibration of his voice sent a shiver up your spine, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. You couldn’t do anything, your mind nothing more than a pile of mush.  All you can do is nod, anticipating the next move Orophin made. 

“What does it mean?” you asked, voice so quiet you were sure he didn’t hear.

After what seemed like eternity, but in reality was only a minute, Orphan placed his soft lips against your neck, leaving behind feather light kisses as he moved up your neck, onto your jawline, and up towards your cheeks. He pulled away just a hair as you watched him with wide eyes, desperate for him to do something. 

“It means, my dear, we have a long night ahead of us.” he whispered. He graced you with one more wicked grin before closing the gap between the two of you, his lips firmly pressed against yours.  

                                                   o0o0o0o   

The pillow beneath your neck was plush and soft, your body nearly melting into a puddle, sinking into the heavenly mattress that supported your tense body. A silk blanket was haphazardly strewn across your body, crumpled and bunching in places. As was usual in Lothlorien, the night sky was beautiful. From your location, the moon was out of sight, but the stars burned so bright you hardly noticed as their light trickled in from the open roof of your talan. The air was cooling against your hot skin, a welcomed change in temperature. 

The soft melody of elves singing in the distance would normally lull you to sleep, their angelic voices drawing out your thoughts, but tonight it grated against your ears. You clenched the delicate blanket in your hands, finger causing crinkles in the soft fabric as it threatened to tear. But you weren’t mad at them or their heavenly singing that was without a single flaw, no it was something unrelated to singing, but very much including elves. 

“Are you trying to ruin your duvet, meril nin,” 

And like clockwork, the very source of your anger and confusion waltzed into your room as if it was his. The lighthearted easiness he carried himself with was a matching set to the smirk that always seemed to be tugging on his lips. But his eyes, his eyes were different this time. You were never good at reading people, even worse when it came to elves who’ve had hundreds of years to practice controlling their emotions. Yet even you could tell there was something different in them tonight. Maybe it was the starlight and the way it shined down upon him, casting a halo atop his beautiful silvery hair. A part of you wondered if you could cut a piece and sell it off to an unsuspecting merchant and pass it off as silver that’s been turned to thread. 

“What do you want Orophin, it’s late?” your tone was exasperated and tired. It always seemed like one thing or another with Orophin that would just leave you more confused than sated. 

“To see you of course!” he exclaimed, a jovial expression perfectly placed on his face. His eyes were alight with wonder and excitement, his lips curling into a grin filled with promises of fun and bad ideas. 

“Well I need to sleep.” 

He just raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at you, but otherwise seemed undeterred. He took long strides towards your bed, closing the already miniscule distance between the two of you. Before you could even blink more than three times, he sat on your bed, languidly leaning back until he was lying atop your thighs. He looked at you with wide eyes and fluttered his lashes at you. 

“Why are you so grumpy, meril? I thought humans had fun,” he teased, lifting his hand and tapping the end of your nose with his finger, booping you like a cute pet. You couldn’t tell if it was demeaning or downright adorable. 

“I’m not grumpy.”

“Yes you are my dear.” He pushed himself up just enough to swing one leg over you, now straddling your thighs. He began crawling up your body until his knees were flesh with your hips, hands resting beside your head. He leaned down, until there was only a few inches in between. 

Your skin was on fire, burning hotter and hotter with each second that passed. Your eyes searched his face for anything to clue you in on his motives, despite already knowing them. Maybe you were just hoping for something different than the usual procedure. 

“Perhaps I can offer some assistance?”

A smirk appeared on his face, eyes shining in the pale light streaming in from the open rooftop. It was trouble, you knew that, but maybe the fallout wouldn’t be so bad. So against your better judgement, you leaned forward, connecting your lips with his. 

His lips were as sweet and soft as they normally were, the scent of him lulling you deeper and deeper into euphoric bliss, like a wave pulling you deeper and deeper into the ocean. All reason left your brain, the only thing it could focus on being him and the feeling of his body pressed against you. You reach a hand up, tangling it in his silver hair. It slides through your fingertips like silk, falling from your hand like a waterfall. Your hand wandered up until you met the braids that held the front pieces of his hair back. You scrape your fingers along his scalp before trailing your hand down. You graze the very tip of his ear, light as a feather. 

He lets out a gasp, the sound swallowed by your mouth. He pulls away for a moment, migrating his lips from your mouth down and down until he’s leaving angel kisses along your neck. 

Then like being woken from a deep sleep with a piercing scream, your eyes shot open. You pull your hands away from Orophin, cradling your hand as if he burnt the flesh. You sit up and attempt to catch your breath, feeling like you ran 10 miles without a break. 

“We need to stop.”

“Why meril?” a sly smirk appeared on his face, as he began to crawl towards you to close the new distance between you two, only pausing when you held a hand out. 

“I’m serious, Orophin,” your voice was stern and confident, the opposite of the chaos that was in your brain. Worldesly, he moves off of you, opting to sit on the other side of you, feet hanging over the side of the bed. 

“What is it?” 

“What are we?” you said, he opens his mouth, but you cut him off, already not liking the glint in his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

A sigh escaped his mouth, causing your heart rate to increase and your anxiety to kick into overdrive. 

The dreaded conversation you always knew would come. 

“I thought we were just, you know, having fun.” The words cut into you like a knife, the pain almost physical. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s just, it’s difficult, I thought you knew that.” he said, some frustration leaking into his voice, whether it was directed at you or him, you didn’t know. “Us together would just be too difficult.” The knife embedded in your heart twists. 

“How can you say that when we aren’t even trying?” you exclaimed, the words rushed and your voice crackling at odd spots. 

“Because I know it to be true.” he said. His voice was short and cold, something you never associated with the warmth Orophin usually radiated. 

You stutter, your brain short circuiting as you attempt to process everything. 

And when your brain finally caught up, Orophin was gone, disappearing into the night.

                                                 o0o0o0o

“You lean too heavily to your right, did you know that?”

You jumped, not far, but enough to break the intense concentration you moments prior had. In your fright, the hand tightly gripping the bow string loosen and before you could react the arrow was released. It pathetically sailed through the arrow, bearing too far to the right. It only managed to get halfway through the training ground before it fell to the ground, like a limp noodle.

Whirling your body, a scowl overcoming your face, you saw Orophin. He was only a few paces away from you, holding a bright red apple that he brought to his mouth and took a bite from. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes when he started making exaggerated noises of delight, his eyes shut as if the apple was the most euphoric thing he'd tasted. 

“What was that for?” you exclaimed, your very short fuse exploding. “You ruined a perfectly good shot!”

 He finished chewing the piece of apple he bit off and then tossed it into the trees. One ashen eyebrow quirked at you as Orophin sauntered towards you, walking with the relaxed confidence only he could manage and a sly smirk on his face. Like clockwork, your heart began pounding in your chest and your face heated up. 

And he knew it too, you could see it in the way his smirk widened just a fraction and his eyes lit up with amusement. 

So you just scowled deeper, narrowing your eyes at him in hope of convincing not only him, but yourself that he didn’t have any effect on you. 

Biggest lie of the century. 

“If it was perfectly good it would’ve hit the target?” he said, his words teasing and light. 

“Well it would’ve if you didn’t distract me!” you replied. You were seething, not because of the arrow, but because of Orophin. He was confusing and infuriating, and perfect in every way. And you hated yourself, hated yourself because you couldn’t hate him, not really. 

“Are you saying I’m distracting? My lady, I am flattered that you can’t focus on anything just by merely hearing my voice!” he exclaimed, smirk contorting into a full blown smile. It’s blindingly bright and captivating, everything the sun shining down on Lothlorien was. 

“That’s not that I said you i-idiot!” 

“Really? That’s what I heard,” he replied, closing the distance between the two of you. He stopped a few inches away from you, close enough that you could hear his heartbeat and feel his breath fanning against you, and if you tried hard enough, you’d momentarily make contact if you breathed hard enough. The intoxicating scent of trees, rain, and something else that was distinctly Orophin. You hated how dizzy it made you feel and you hated that it was easily the sweetest smell you’ve experienced. 

He placed his hand on your tense shoulder and began to turn your body. With eyebrows that nearly touched your hairline, you opened your mouth, prepared to demand to know his intentions, but nothing came out except for a pitiful squawk. He turned your body until you were facing the direction of the training field, staring straight at the target you previously attempted to hit. 

“Relax, you’re as tense as Haldir when we’re on patrol.” He practically purred in your ear, the air from his words tickling your ear in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. 

“What are you doing?” You were cautious and on high alert, full well knowing how things with Orophin usually ended. 

“Fixing your form. it’s not bad for a human, but you’re with the Eldar now,” he whispered. Orophin wrapped one arm around your waist and brought the other one to rest underneath the elbow of your bow arm. His touch was light and delicate, feeling more like the caress of a ghost than a corporeal person. And like a machine, you brought the bow up into position, placing a fresh arrow into proper position with a single fluid movement. 

“I also wanted to apologize for last night. I should not have stormed out the way I did.”

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice hoarse and rough, like a sharp rock.

“It’s not, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now let’s get back to the archery lesson, mell nin.”

“Mell nin. That means my dear?” You turned to face him, eyes widened like a doe as you carefully watched his face. His eyes locked with yours, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. He grinned at you with a look more radiant and shining than before. Gods, you could go blind if you stared at him for too long, but it would be worth it. Blindness wouldn’t be so bad if his face would be burned into your mind for the rest of your life. 

“You’ve been catching on”

“Sometimes I listen,” you replied, keeping your voice low so as to not disturb the quiet aura that encapsulated the two of you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Orophin this soft with you, usually he was all mischief and sex appeal. But now he was… at ease and relaxed, like he didn’t have to put on any airs. 

It was… nice.

Your lips tilted upwards as your eyes shined like starlight. Your erratic heartbeat slowed until it was in time with Orophin’s. Your eyes flickered down to his lips then back to his eyes. He followed your movements, not eyeing you like a predator but with… something else. Something you’ve seen the elves share with their husband or wife, the type of softness and vulnerability only present with someone you really care about. 

And you know, without a shadow of a doubt where Orophin’s thoughts stood seeing as he verbalised them last night in your room. You knew he didn't see this going anywhere permanent. Yet the look in his eyes and the complete ease he has around you says otherwise.

And then it’s suddenly cold. And before you have a chance to even blink, Orophin is gone, again.

                                                  o0o0o0o

“You can come out now, you pointy eared dummy!” you yelled, flailing your arms wildly as you do so, the wine bottle precariously held in your fingertips slipping and falling to the ground. Your eyes follow it, watching with wide eyes as the bottle hits the forest floor, bubbly liquid pouring out of the open top. 

“Shit,” you muttered, but made no move to pick it up. 

“That’s not very nice,” a soft melodic voice said from behind you. It was beautiful and light… you hated it. Whirling around, your legs wobbled as you began to lose your balance. Orophin surged forward to steady you, but you slapped his arm away.

“Don-- don’t touch me. No means no Oro,” you said, stumbling backwards until you fell to the ground, landing on your butt. Pain immediately flared up in the area, a pathetic whimper leaving your mouth. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, moving towards you with slow and exaggerated movements, treating you like a scared baby. The thought caused you to scoff. You probably were a baby to half of the people here. Stupid elves and their stupid immortality.  

“Yes, emotionally and physically,” you said, closing your eyes and holding your head up, attempting to keep a sliver of your dignity. “But mainly physically right now.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink so much then.” Once he was close enough, Orophin sat on the ground, his knees ghosting your skin. It burned like hot coals, singing the skin. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t drink more!” You pointed a finger at him and scowled, attempting to appear menacing. And in your mind, you were, except your finger couldn’t stay still and your face looked more like a pouting puppy than a fearsome killer. It would’ve made Orophin laugh if not for the sorrow poorly hidden in your eyes and your current pathetic state. He didn’t have to ask, he knew it was because of him. 

“I haven’t had any wine today,” he said, using the same tone he did when he found you alone in the Lorien woods all those months ago. When he had to coax you out from behind the mallorn trees after narrowly escaping a pack of orcs that got too close to Lorien.  

“Not my problem.”

“Of course! I must bear this burden on my own, my lady.” His tone was overly exaggerated. Against your better judgement, a smirk pulled at the corner of your lips, faint chuckle escaping between your lips.

“There’s that smile,” he teased, reaching forward and poking your cheek.

“Stop treating me like a child you stupid dolphin fin,” you muttered angrily, swatting at his invading hand. “I’m an adult you know.”

“Of course you are.”

“And don’t you forget it, buster!” You pointed a finger in his general direction, eyes still firmly shut. 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, allowing the quiet atmosphere to swallow you whole. Orophin sighed, moving so he sat beside you, careful to not touch you.

“What’s wrong meleth? Why did you drink so much? Normally it’s near impossible to get you to drink more than two glasses when we’re together,” His voice is quiet and serious. 

‘Don’t call me love like that, you fool. You don’t love me, not really,” you muttered, leaning your head against the tree behind you. The silver bark is softer than you thought it would’ve been. Certainly not as rough and coarse as the ones back home.

“And how do you know that?” His eyes burned into your skin, like the sun bouncing off of a magnifying glass and incinerating small ants. 

“In case you’ve forgotten, you’re the one who said we couldn’t be together.” you said, opening your eyes for the first time since he sat by you. You searched his face for anything, but you couldn’t read him, probably due to your state of intoxication. 

“That’s not wh--” he began but you promptly cut him off by placing your hand over his mouth.

“But it’s how it was received. I get it Orophin, I’m human you're an elf,--” you obnoxiously exaggerated the word. “--your oil and I’m water, I get it now, don’t worry. It’s cool, there were no rules, so it’s on me that I let it get this far,” You told him. 

And you tried. You really tried to sound unbothered and nonchalant, to be as cold as ice. But the words were hollow, exposing how hurt you really were. 

Stupid elf. 

“You have to understand how diff--” Once again, you cut him off, the words being swallowed by the palm of your hand. 

“No, you don’t understand. I’ve played your little game for months and I’m tired of it. You hear me? Tired!” you exclaimed. You leaned forward and attempted to stand from your sitting position, however as soon as you moved, the world around you grew fuzzy, Orophin multiplying into two. 

“Be careful,” he snapped at you as he reached out to grab a hold of you. He pulled you from the ground, but you violently ripped away from him. 

“Don’t touch me you-- you, you big dummy!” you yelled, pushing him away and onto the forest floor. The fall was broken by the lush greenery that covers the Lorien first floor, so he easily scrambled up. You stumbled away, in your mind moving at the speed of lightning, however you were only able to get five paces away before falling to the ground. 

Tears of frustration and sadness built up in your eyes, your hands clenching tightly into fists. Hot tears streamed down your face, as you lay there on the floor like a baby throwing a tantrum. You smacked your fist against the ground, the throbbing pain dulled by alcohol. 

“I hate you, you know that? I hate you because I really don’t,” you muttered, already knowing Orophin was standing behind you. He said nothing and you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. 

“I just- I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to keep sneaking around like I’m some horrible secret. I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep getting small pieces of you.” 

You turned and looked at him, eyes tear stained and your face splotching and red. God you were a mess. And in the glimmer of the starlight, you saw a faint stream of tears falling down his cheeks, landing on the ground. God, they even cry pretty.

“Y/N--” he began, taking a single step towards you, causing you to scoot forward, sliding across the forest like a toddler who can’t walk right. 

“God, I love you, and that’s probably the worst thing you’ve ever heard,” you muttered. Your mind no longer felt foggy from the wine, your eyes glossy from tears and not a state of intoxication. You stood up, and walked away, leaving Orophin behind. And the hand he held outstretched towards you slowly fell limp as he watched you walk away. 

                                              o0o0o0o

It had been months since you’d last spoken to Orophin. Time passed agonizingly slow, minutes becoming centuries, yet everything felt like a haze at the same time. Every day regret would beat against you, pushing you further and further into a never ending abyss. It was odd not having Orophin intruding on your day in some way, scarily enough, it was almost like Orophin was never there. The phantom of where he used to touch you burned like ice until you were nearly numb all over your body. 

God it was hell, trying to keep up with his whirlwind of emotions, trying to decipher if you were just having a fun time or if he truly cared for you. It was exhausting being in a constant state of turmoil, your heart bleeding nearly every second, only to be lazily patched up with every kiss. But at least you had a piece of him, even if it was just a sliver. 

You did everything to give off the illusion of being preoccupied. You went wandering through the forest collecting flowers, you practiced embroidering and then practiced again, you read the same three books over and over again, but everything always came back to Orophin. And for that you were glad he was gone with the other Wardens, patrolling the forest. The orcs were growing more bold in their attacks, so Haldir increased the watch and the Warden’s time away. You didn’t trust your self control, and if Orophin was just within your grasp, you would’ve caved long ago. Falling back into him and whatever he was willing to give you, only to begin the hellish cycle all over again. 

For once you were grateful for Haldir’s extreme dedication to his job. 

So now you lay in your favorite clearing, lazily flipping through a book you’ve already memorized, the grass cocooning you, leaving angel kisses on your body. The sound of grass crumpling beneath someone’s step brought you from your thoughts. Looking up, you saw Orophin, standing with the trees. He was wearing his Lorien cloak, weaved in every color of the forest to better conceal the wearer, and his leather armor with his bow loosely held at his side. 

You stared at him and he looked back. His eyes were wide and hopeful, nearly glossy in the light. His lips were pulled in a thin line, and you could see him chewing on the inside of his lips. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, slowly closing your book and placing it beside you. You sat up, but didn't stand. You refuse to be the one to leave. 

“You were wrong.” 

“What?” you asked, eyes narrowed at him as you purse your lips. 

“You were wrong.” he stated again, as if it would suddenly become clearer to you. 

“I don’t under--” you began but he cut you off. Like the wind, he rushed towards you, his bow forgotten on the forest floor where he used to stand. He slid onto his knees so he was level with you, grasping your hands in his and surged forward, the force knocking you to the ground. 

“What are you--” You started to say, face immediately turning red and your heart rate increasing. And then he’s kissing you. Not with his usual playfulness, or the lust that laced every touch, but it was nice and soft and sweet. More akin to an innocent first kiss rather than the fire he usually possessed. And as soon as his lips were on you, they were off, but he didn’t move, and you didn’t want him to. 

“You were wrong. It isn’t the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” he muttered, his breath tickling your lips. 

Oh. 

Oh.

In that moment it clicked, the foggy memoires you have of that night coming back to you. You’d uttered that exact phrase to him, “I love you, and that’s probably the worst thing you ever heard.” Against your better judgement, a small smile forms on your lips and this time it was you closing the distance. 

“I love you, meleth nin. I. Love. You.” he punctuated each word with a kiss, causing your skin to burn where his lips touched. “And I’m sorry I refused to admit it for so long.”

“You better be,” you replied, pulling his body closer to you, if that was physically possible. 

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” he asked, pulling away from your lips. You smirked at him, eyes alight with the mischief that was missing for so long. 

“No, but that could be earned,” you said, playing with the fine hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I must warn you, it’s going to be a lot of hard work,” you teased, pressing your lips to the corner of his lips. A small whine left his mouth as he attempted to capture your lips fully with his. 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m a dedicated Warden.”

“We’ll see about that.”

                                                   o0o0o0o

Tags: 

@kenobiguacamole​ | @aearonnin​ | @emiliessketches​ | @vibratingbones​ | @ranhanabi777​

[omg-imagine]

⊱ Always ⊰

Summary: After being kidnapped, you’re hopeful that John will rescue you in time.

Pairing: John Wick x Reader

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, violence and minor character death

A/N: Yes, it’s another Wick Fic and no, I’m not stopping anytime soon. I really appreciate everyone’s feedback so far on these stories. You truly keep a gal inspired to write! 

If you have any requests for John Wick or other characters played by Keanu (maybe Keanu himself??), feel free to send them in! :)

(Credit to the GIF owner)

Straining against the zip-ties, the translucent plastic dug harshly through your wrists as you attempted to break free. However, the binds wrapped around your hands and ankles were far too tight for you to escape their grasp. Eventually, you relaxed, breathing out a heavy sigh from both exhaustion and defeat.

The fresh cuts on your face burned, and the bruises all over your body made it painful to move. Your eyes were covered by a thick blindfold, seeing nothing but the total blackness surrounding you. Several voices speaking a foreign language echoed from a distance, leaving you unaware of what was to come.

You tried piecing together the events before your kidnapping as your head continued to throb. You recalled leaving the office early to get ready for a date and walking back to your apartment using the same path you usually took every day. Without warning, a black SUV had pulled up next to you, and seconds later, someone knocked you unconscious.

You didn’t even have time to scream.

“John,” you uttered softly, remembering that he was expecting you tonight, and surely he would know that something was wrong by now.

Suddenly, a door inside of the room burst open, and you heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching you. The stranger’s breath was hot against your shivering skin as he slowly pulled your blindfold down, the light inside blinding you almost instantly.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Quite a fighter, too,” his deep, menacing tone caused you to wince as he roughly held your head in his calloused hands. From his accent, you could tell that he was Russian. “Now I see why he’s obsessed with you. Shame, you deserve better.”

A thick finger moved to sweep a strand of hair behind your ear. “What do you want from me?”

The man let out a low chuckle, dropping his hands and taking a step back. You observed him as he circled you as if he were a starving predator, and you were his prey. When he came to stand behind you, you felt him lightly dragging the cold, sharp end of a knife across your back, making the weapon’s presence known.

“Not much, darling,” he answered as the blade then traveled up the side of your neck, coming to rest beneath your chin. “You see, you and I both share one person in common—John Wick. I’m currently not happy about our mutual friend because of his recent decision to step away from this life.”

You immediately understood what he was talking about. John had already told you the true nature of his work six months ago. It was hard to believe that a man like him would be capable of such violence. When you met him a year ago, you had initially thought he was a sweet and quiet guy who bound old books for a living.

Oh, how wrong you turned out to be.

But despite warranted fears in the beginning, you chose to stay with him. You loved him, and he promised that he would soon get out of this life and trade it for a normal one—one that he would share with you.

“Please, just let me go,” you begged as he lowered his face down to yours. “I have nothing to do with what he does. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

The man shook his head, his knife landing on your cheek. “You are correct, my dear. You are innocent in all of this, but Jonathan Wick is not. He’s one of my best men, my most trusted and an asset to this organization. Anything I order him to do, Wick will accomplish, and I can’t afford to lose him. Unfortunately, he refuses to back down from his decision. That’s when I realized he was doing this entirely for love.”

He forced your gaze up to his, all the while dropping the blade to your collarbone. Gradually, he applied pressure until it began piercing through the surface. A trickle of warm blood flowed out from the incision with your captor smirking at the sight of it.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, tears escaping your eyes. “You won’t get away with this. John will make you pay for what you’ve done.”

“If John really loved you, he would have found you by now.”

You remained silent, not allowing the man to stir doubt in your mind. You loved John, and John loved you. You weren’t going to lose hope because you were sure that he would get to you just in time.

The man clicked his tongue. “It’s too bad that John will not be here to witness me as I cut you up, piece by piece. He won’t have the pleasure of hearing your agonizing screams. Your corpse will serve as a reminder that he can never walk away from this life.”

His hand moved to bring the knife to your throat when loud gunfire suddenly erupted outside of the room, followed by distant screaming and shouting. You noticed the man’s eyes widened in realization and could only mutter two words underneath his breath.

Baba Yaga.

John was here. He had found you, and you were going to be saved.

The man cursed in his native tongue before forcing you up on your feet. He dragged you to the back wall, pulling out a pistol tucked behind his back.

“Sorry, darling. I guess I won’t be able to take my precious time with you after all.”

The barrel of the gun rested against the side of your temple at the same time as the door bursting open, revealing John.

“I’m only saying this once—let (Y/N) go, Viggo,” John said through gritted teeth, his gaze unrelenting as the man pulled you closer to him, using you as his shield. He gripped his gun tightly in his hand, stepping further inside the room. “Are you hurt?”

He was directing the question at you, and you could only choke out a no when Viggo tightened his arm around your neck. “How about a trade, Wick? I’ll let your precious here live while—”

John didn’t give him the chance to finish his statement. Without hesitation, he quickly shot a bullet right between his eyes. Viggo’s body slumped to the ground, and when your knees buckled, John was immediately at your side steadying you. You glanced down and saw the lifeless body by your feet.

Just like that, the nightmare was over, and you could finally go home.

You didn’t notice John calling out your name multiple times, cutting you free from your bindings nor his hand running through your hair. It felt like you were in a daze, the firing of the gun causing ringing in your ears. Viggo’s warm blood had splattered onto your face, and you began welling up tears.

“John?” Your voice came as a whisper. Placing a hand on the sides of his face, you shut your eyes and buried your face into the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay—you’re okay,” he assured, pressing a kiss against your forehead and holding you close.

John carried you out of the building in his arms, your body too weak to carry its own weight. The silence was eerie as you walked through the long corridors. You had promised him to keep your eyes shut until you were outside, not wanting you to see the hell he had unleashed upon Viggo and his men.

You finally got to John’s car, and he carefully sat you down on the passenger side. Once he was in front of the wheel, you reached out and grasped his hand. He gave you a comforting squeeze, reminding you that you were now with him, and you were safe.

Somewhere along the drive, you had fallen asleep. When you woke up, you found yourself lying on a comfortable bed, tucked underneath the covers. You noticed an IV needle inserted in your arm, and your wounds were now bandaged.

“Hey, you’re awake,” John spoke as he walked back into the bedroom.

Am I at a hotel? You thought to yourself as your eyes wandered around the room.

“We’re at the Continental,” he seemingly answered the question in your head. You’ve heard about this place before, and you didn’t realize how normal it appeared to be. “I had a doctor patch you up while you were out. Aside from your cuts and bruises, you’ve got a fracture on your foot, two broken ribs, and a sprained wrist.”

John approached the bed and sat down on the chair right beside you. “But you’re going to be okay.”

You opened the palm of your hand, and John immediately interlaced his fingers with yours. You could see the worry etched in his face, and when he opened his mouth to begin his apology, you shook your head.

“Don’t blame yourself,” you pleaded, your thumb mindlessly running against the back of his hand. “This is all going to be over soon, right?”

A small, reassuring smile appeared on John’s face as he brought your hand up to his lips and pressed a tender kiss on it. “It already is, darling.”

You sat up on the mattress, wincing in pain as you tried doing so. “What do you mean?”

“That man who took you—he was the only one standing in the way of my freedom. I told him that I was retiring, and he refused. He warned me that I was making a big mistake, and when you weren’t in your apartment tonight, I knew that it was him.”

“So, you’re free?”

John only nodded, and you breathed out a sigh in relief. Tugging on John’s arm, you gestured for him to lay down next to you. As he removed his shoes, you scooted towards the other end of the bed to give him the space he needed.

It wasn’t long until you and John were lying beside each other, falling into a comfortable silence. Truthfully, you were scared to close your eyes again, afraid that if you do, you would be back in that dark room—alone and frightened.

John instantly caught the look on your face. He turned over to rest on his side, snaking an arm behind your back to pull your body close. You felt him place a kiss on the top of your head before the tips of his fingers softly caressed the side of your face.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, your eyelids growing heavy with each passing second. “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I’ll always be here to protect you.”

“Always?”

“Always,” John confirmed with a loving gaze. Eventually, your eyes drifted close, and you finally fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

[kiseki-no-scenarios]

Akashi Seijuro - If Only - Chapter One

Here is the first chapter of the multi-chapter Akashi fic I am working on!! I’ve outlined the plot so I will try to update in a timely manner, but I often struggle with writing multi-chapter fics because they take longer time to do. 

There will be heavy angst in this story, but rest assured that there will be a happy ending!! I hope you enjoy!

---

The sight of your majestic husband, now pale and with perspiration beading across his brow, laying in his bed brought you to your knees as you let out a sob, gripping onto his slackened hand with both of your own, unable to hide the tremor that rocked your body. Akashi’s body was trembling, his breathing stuttered and weak as he fought against the poison that was ravaging his body. You wanted to turn your eyes away from the living nightmare in front of you, but your eyes were committing each and every moment of his torture into your mind

Your knees ached as they hit the floor hard, the pain banished to the back of your mind as you took in the sight of Emperor Akashi, the crimson red of his robes a stark contrast against the deathly pallor of his skin. You had never seen your husband like this, and the fact that it was your fault drove your mind nearly to madness. It should have been you laying on the bed, fighting desperately, clinging to life.

You ignore the yelps of your ladies in waiting as they tried to move you up to your feet, ignoring their attempts at placing a cushion underneath you. The pain was barely a fraction of the guilt that you felt, and you wanted to cast your entire body across your husband, hiding him from all the torture and pain of the tangible world. Surely, this was just a dream, right?

Your fingers gripped his hand as you murmured his name, Seijuro, Seijuro dripping past your lips like a mantra as you pressed the back of your hand against your forehead. How you wished you could transfer to him your very own life energy, so that he his wounded flesh would stitch together again in front of your eyes, chasing the poison that gripped his body.

The chattering of the many doctors and government officials in your husband’s room all faded to the background as you looked into the eyes of the only man you had ever loved, would ever love in this lifetime and all the ones that would follow. His chest was still rising and falling, that he was still hanging on to life-but the thread was oh so fragile, apt to snap with even the smallest of pressures.

The flow of blood from puncture wound of the cursed arrow where it had pierced his back through his chest had finally been staunched, but the polluted miasma of the curse spilled out in waves, barely visible to the eye. The poison that was coursing through his veins was working slowly, but steadily and unrelenting.

At this rate, they said he only had a few days, if that.

The wounds that he had suffered from battle were relatively light, and Akashi was to recover quickly, they estimated. The war had been won easily, and you were excited to have your husband back home, for the two of you to continue with your lives together. It had been too long since Akashi had held you in his arms, too long since his lips had pressed against yours. Pacing in the entrance hall, you recalled the feeling of excitement and relief as you heard the triumphant sounds of the army returning home, lead by the crimson Emperor who had lead them all to victory.

It had been yearning that you could no longer hold back as you watched him cross the threshold back to your home, the palace. Without thought for your own safety or his, you had rushed to him, wanting to take him into your arms.

But Akashi was always alert, and his senses never failed. You’d never even heard the arrow coming, only being aware of its presence when it had burst through Akashi’s chest, in a brilliant blossoming of bloody red that quickly stained his armor.

The arrow that was meant for you had lodged itself within Akashi’s body, and you’d never forget that moment for as long as you lived, the images flashing behind your eyelids every single moment that you closed your eyes. It was as if that moment was tattooed, etched permanently into your flesh, a never-ending reminder of what your impatience had wrought. Perhaps if you had waited, perhaps if you had stood where you were…surely, your husband would have reacted soon enough to dispose of the archer, without flinging his body in front of yours like a shield.

Midorima cleared his throat behind you, and turning, you immediately began to sob at the look on his face. “No, no, no…”

Shaking his head, Midorima uttered the words that caused your heart to seize. “I’ve brought the True Loves End.”

“You…you lie, there HAS to be an antidote.” Your voice is shaky, but you know your words are futile. You were a healer, well versed in the art of medicine. One look at Akashi’s wound, and you knew that the antidote was not something you could easily compound in the limited time you had left.

The curse itself had been altered, a task that required the use of dark magic. As this particular poison and it’s resulting curse almost guaranteed death, it required an offering of the same cost.

Your assassin had murdered an innocent life to target your own.

“Your Highness, you and I both know that there is simply no way we can acquire the antidote. Even if we were to slaughter each and every one of those rebels, that would still not give us the solution we desire.”

“I don’t care!” You screamed, terror and rage breaking through your desperation, clawing up your throat. “Kill…Kill them all!” You turned to Aomine. “Why are you just standing there, Daiki?!”

The dark haired male gripped the handle of his sword hard, refusing to meet your eyes. “The Emperor is still my direct command, your Highness.”

“I. Don’t. Care.” You hissed, shooting to your feet as you lunged at the Commander, your magical energy gathering in your palms, responding to the pained call of your heart. “I demand that you raze them all to the ground. Not a single one is to be left standing, or I will strike you down right where you stand!” Going haywire, your magic was lashing out, burning Mibuchi’s hands as he held you back. Your magic, normally meant to calm and heal was reacting to your emotions, daring anyone to get close lest you strike them down where they stand.

“_____.”

Your head whips around, another sob breaking through at the sight of Akashi, his face turned towards you. His hand was lifted in your direction, his palm facing upwards. “My beloved Empress, please. It hurts me to see you so enraged and filled with hate.” A soft smile was on Akashi’s lips, looking at you with adoration although you knew just how much pain he was suffering through. Even at a time like this, his first instinct was the comfort you.

“What am I supposed to feel, Seijuro?” You lash out, losing all sense of composure as you cover your face with your hands. “Never have I felt so much rage…I would burn this world to the ground for you, Seijuro.” You felt utterly useless. Akashi had done so much for you throughout your life, yet you always felt that nothing you could do would be able to repay him for all the happiness he had brought to you. For your loved ones and your dear friends, you’d die for them…but for Akashi, you’d kill for him.

Your vision is blurry as you continue to sob. You vaguely feel Mibuchi shushing you quietly, leading you back to Akashi’s bedside as he holds your hand. You can feel the rough callouses of his palm and fingertips, from years of practice with the sword and bow. There was still strength to the way he gripped your hand, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over the back of your hand. The delicate affection of Akashi’s touch only made you want to cry harder.

“Remember who you are, _____.” Akashi says, his voice gaining strength as he watches you, adoration in his eyes. “You love this country, more than I do. Your hands, your magic, are meant to heal. Please, do not dirty your hands for me, my love.”

Your magic settles in response, too afraid to lash out in fear that you would worsen his wounds. “…You always said that you’d do anything for me, Seijuro.” You whisper, leaning forward, pressing your forehead to his as he closes his eyes. “Why can’t you let me do that for you…?”

“I know you better than anyone. Even if you feel nothing but anger right now, I know you would soon regret your actions. And nothing would kill me to see you drowning in guilt.” Dry lips press to yours as you continue to seek out his kisses. “Besides…You’ll scare Seiji.”

The mention of your son brings the pieces of your mind back together slightly. Rubbing your eyes, you pull back from your husband as you look around the room, noticing that most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving only your closest confidants and guards behind. “Seiji…is he here?”

“He’s outside with Nebuya. I didn’t know if you wanted him to see you quite yet…” Kise bit his lip, the normally cheerful blonde frowning and his lips trembling as he held back the emotion that threatened to burst through.

Thank god your ten-year-old son didn’t see his father struck by the arrow. You couldn’t bear it if your son had to bear witness to the nightmare that you had seen, knowing how fragile his heart and mind was. He was as intelligent and strong as his father, often referred to as a perfect copy of the Emperor. But you knew that your son had a soft heart, like you.

“Please, keep watch over him for now.” You nod your head gratefully at Kise. You weren’t sure if you could keep your composure completely yet, and Seiji needed his mother to be there for him, without collapsing into hysterics.

The sound of Akashi coughing brings you back to the situation at hand, and you eye the bottle of medicine that Midorima has set down on the table side. You weren’t sure what was worse…in your eyes, it was just as much of a poison, if not more, than the current one that wracked Akashi’s body.

True Loves End…An antidote that could cure any poison, but at great cost. While the receiver’s memory would be spared, their emotions would not; all of their feelings of love and desire would be robbed from them.

Akashi would live, but you were not strong enough to imagine a world where your husband did not smile at you, did not embrace you, much less one where you wold be without his love.

To you, that felt like a death sentence more than any other.

“…Will you take it?” You whisper, closing your eyes out of fear. It was at times like this that you realized the full weight of what it meant to rule a country, to take upon the needs of the many before the needs of ones own.

“…You may think of me terribly selfish, but I do not want to.” Akashi states, his lips kissing your eyelids as he gently asks you to open them, gazing into his beautiful, crimson orbs. “I want to live my final moments, with all the love I have for you. I want you to be the very last thing I see in this world, my love. But…”

You knew what he was going to say. You knew, just by looking at him, and as much as you wanted to close your ears and hide from the world, you had to see it through.

“I want you to choose, _____. I have been selfish many, many times in my life. You have always been selfless, giving so much to me and to our people.” Akashi smiles at you. “I know this is a terrible burden upon you, but please…My Empress, please be selfish with what you want.”

“Don’t ask me, Seijuro…” Your voice is raspy, dry and hoarse from all the crying. “You know what I want to say, what my heart wants…”

You wanted the same thing. You wanted all of Akashi’s love, until his very last breath. But you were not just a woman, and Akashi was not just a man. He was an Emperor, and you were an Empress.

If Akashi were not to survive…your son was not ready to take the throne. The country would be thrust into a period of post-war instability, and try all you would, you knew that you alone did not have the power to guarantee peace. The answer was not simple, and it felt like claws were dragging themselves down your chest as you came to grips with what had to be done.

“You asked me to be selfish…but I can’t.” Your voice trembles as your mouth speaks the words that your heart did not want, but your mind was clear. “Not with the lives of millions in the balance. Not with the stability of our country on our shoulders…You know what my answer is, Seijuro. You’ve known from the beginning.”

Akashi smiles peacefully. “I did. That is why you are my Empress.”

If only I was just a woman, and you were only just a man.

You couldn’t be weak. Not when Akashi was suffering the most of them all.

Wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your robes, you lay the palm of your hand over Akashi’s forehead, allowing the soothing healing magic to lull him into a restful sleep. Right now…he needed to rest, to conserve the strength he still had left.

Akashi held your gaze until his eyes finally closed, the even rising and falling of his chest confirming that he was asleep. You gently tuck his arm underneath his blanket, kissing his forehead before finally pulling back and rising to your feet.

“Daiki…I’m sorry for threatening to strike you down.” You murmur. “It was said out of anger.”

“I understand, your Highness.”

“Reo, I’ll get you some cream for your burns later.” You walk over towards the door, hearing your bodyguard following after you.

“I don’t mind, having some scars may make me more attractive to the ladies.” You appreciated Reo’s attempts to lighten you mood, but you could only manage a weak smile in reply.

Opening the door, your gaze immediately falls upon your son, crouched in the hallway. “Seiji…”

“Mother!” Seiji immediately locks gazes with yours, and your heart clenches in pain at the way he looks so much like his father. “How is father…?”

“All will be fine. Seiji, what have I told you about your posture?” You gently chide him, taking his hand in yours. “Come, let us walk in the garden.”

Seiji follows you obediently as you lead the two of you to the Emperor’s private gardens. Normally, the sight would easily bring you peace and relaxation, but you felt far from that at the moment.

“Seiji…do you remember what I’ve told you about being a ruler?”

“Yes. We must sacrifice for our people, as that is who our powers are to be used for.” Seiji replies, his crimson orbs meeting yours.

“Your father is going to sacrifice something very, very dear.” Holding both of his hands in yours, you look down at your son. Soon, his height would overtake yours.

You observed Seiji’s face for any signs of his reaction. You tried to keep your tears together, but at the sight of your son, trying so hard to keep his gaze composed you reached forward, pulling him into your embrace.

Your arms tightened around him, and you cried, for your son, for your husband, and for you.

“Seiji…I promise, your mother will give you all the love in the world.” You sob. Your son’s shoulders were still small, and his small shoulders would soon have to carry the burden of the world upon them. “I will love you, enough for both your father and I.”

“Mother…”

Seiji’s voice is lost to the wind as you cry into your son’s shoulder, your heart preparing for the dark days to follow.

To be continued--

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