#he's been down here and he's just watching the whole thing unravel until you finally blurt out what you've been trying to say in English 7/? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theladyfulcrum · 1 year

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Come here children. Come here. Sit down. Take my hands. Listen.

Here’s what we are not going to do. We are not going to let them unravel us and leave us in a heap of bawling bodies. They want us to sob until our eyes fall out and we rupture our abdominal organs because they’re heartless and sadistic and part of STAR WARS—shhh, steady—but we are going to remain CALM. Call it denial, call it call it bargaining, call it what you will, but he’s not gone.

Deep breaths, all together now. Crying is cathartic and necessary for coping with the emotional abuse we endure at the hands of Filoni et al., but don’t cry from lost hope. I’m serious. Was it among the worst things we could have possibly been forced to watch? Has a good majority of the fandom been mulling where the hell we are supposed to find the will to go on after that? Of course. But they’ll be back. And Tech will be, too.

Hush, child. Listen to me.

There was a reason he fell into cloud-cover. He could have been falling into anything. Water can be lethal from that height, yes, but let’s all just remember what Hunter pulled in War-Mantle with falling OUT OF A SHIP and down a LITERAL MOUNTAIN and surviving that with JUST HIS KNIFE. HIS KNIFE, KIDS. Tech accepted what he was doing, and he was okay with dying if that was what this meant, but he’s Tech. Once he fell from view he did whatever he could to increase his odds of getting out of it alive. Trust.

Speaking of falling from view— we know the Clone Wars rules. No body, no confirmed death. Forget that— we know the STAR WARS rules. Even if someone gets SLICED IN HALF before your VERY EYES and FALLS AN INDETERMINABLE-BUT-DEFINITELY-NOT-SURVIVABLE DISTANCE, they STILL aren’t dead. Further still, if you had put the two scenes in front of me with no context, I would have said Echo’s death in an EXPLOSION of FIRE seemed more final and certain that Tech falling away from us. And no, I don’t care about the argument that it’s a kId’S ShOW so they wouldn’t show us the body. Go watch Colt’s death and get back to me. Or you know, pretty much any Clone Wars episode.

BUT THE GOGGLES, you wail. I know, dear heart, I know. I see the cracks in them every time I close my eyes. But Hemlock getting his hands on those isn’t confirmation of anything other than what we already know— no matter where he wound up, Tech is having a Very Bad Time��️. Whether he lost them on the extremely unpleasant way down or whether he’s being experimented on in critical condition is hardly a nicer thing to know, but we’ll take just about anything right now if it means we’ll see our boy again, won’t we?

Shhh, I’m not through. We also have that scene with Phee. If it had been a true goodbye, if Tech had shown an ounce of the development he had with Omega about differences in emotional processing and communication, you’d have seen my soul depart through the atmosphere. But no. That scene’s entire purpose was to be unresolved. Was it just to make us incurably sad in retrospect? Maybe. But my gut says no— there’s more he needs to say to her.

On that note, the same goes for Tech and Crosshair. I refuse to believe we’ll never see them together again. I don’t have anything stronger than my refusal, but my feelings on this are rock solid. There’s also the important issue of THE Bad Batch theme— you know how they’ve established a precedent of not using it unless the whole Batch is together? Collectively, we’re going to refuse to believe they’re going to break that now. And there’s too much love for that theme to never hear it again.

Finally, beloveds, we come to our old favorite: story analysis. You know I’m insufferable about this, but listen. If we look at screenwriting, if we look at story structure, if we look at BEATS, this is the old “DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL” for the Batch (and us obviously). It’s the ALL IS LOST. The EVERYTHING IS AWFUL AND THE HEROES ARE AT THEIR LOWEST LOW. It’s the classic “oh my god this second installment is EMOTIONAL TORTURE HOW COULD THEY DO THIS TO ME” that we can point to in novels, shows, and film series again and again. It’s the ESB ending, it’s the Catching Fire ending, it’s the Rebels S2 AHSOKA IS D E A D AND ANAKIN KILLED HER ending. S3 will open as they enter Act III, where they use what they’ve learned to move upwards toward the finale of this particular story arc. Doesn’t that sound like something nice to cling to?

There now. If I’m wrong, I’ll give you all the choice of k!lling me first or tossing me alive out of a plane with no *hard swallow* parachute, jet pack, or functional grappling gun. But I truly believe you won’t have to.

In the year or two we have to wait, cry for his absence, cry for the Batch being more fractured and farther apart than they ever have been, cry for Hunter feeling like he’s failed everyone he loves, cry for all of it, but not because you’ve lost hope that all might not be lost.

Tech will be back.

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bedoballoons · 5 months

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Forgive me for spamming your inbox i just have a lot to say for some reason </3

This is just a little thing thats been on my mind ever since my sailor moon phase xame back :,) character and reader with a tuxedo mask and sailor moon type of relationship urgrggrh

Pretty much smart responsible mature guy with sensitive klutz reader :( god i'd do anything to have this irl help i love this dynamic sm

-🧚‍♀️

I like spam, don't worry :p I LOVE THE SAILOR MOON AESTHETIC!! It's inspired my art alot and I still have yet to fully finish the series! Have you watched the whole thing, is it good 👀

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎄𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎄

{༻~The ship has sailed~༺}

CW: Fluffy and sweet! Readers kinda klutzy but very sweet! Mentions of reader owning a cat!

(Includes: Thoma, and Zhongli, Childe!)

𑁍༄Thoma:

"Are you alright?"

You looked up at Thoma from your place on the floor, cupcake batter dripping down your face and cupcakes sprawled around you..."Yes but my cute cupcakes are having issues..." You sighed in defeat as he walked over to you, helping you off the ground and washing the batter off of you gently with a towel.

"We can make more, I'll help."

"But I wanted to make them for you..." You looked away with a light blush, wishing that you'd been a little more careful so he wouldn't have found out your true intentions.

He gave you a sweet smile, leaning in to kiss your cheek, "While I love the things you make me, I enjoy spending time with you more. Let's make the next batch together."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

You giggled at your cat as he laid belly up on the floor, dramatically acting exhausted after his long day of doing nothing, "Zhongli, do you ever wish you could curl up in a ball like a cat and sleep anywhere?" You turned to face the man sitting next to you, wondering how he could possibly be so engrossed with the rather long boring book he held in his hands...just the first sentence had given you a headache...

He looked up from the words on the written page and gave you a small smile, "No, I don't believe I have. Although they are sweet creatures and their ability to curl up and sleep anywhere seems appealing, I rest perfectly fine...as long as I am with you that is."

Your cheeks went warm, your heart skipping a beat as you hid your face in your hands...how had he turned such strange question into something so sweet..."That's not what I thought you were going to say."

"I suppose it was a bit more of a response than needed, but I do so much enjoy when your cheeks blush that way..."

"Eeee!"

𑁍༄Childe:

"Woah, what did you do..." Childe chuckled as he took in the scene in front of him, it seemed your sweater had begun to unravel unbeknownst to you and one of the loose threads had decided to latch itself on just about everything. Now you were standing in the middle of the room with a pastel spider web surrounding you and you couldn't possibly move unless you wished for everything to be pulled along with you.

Your cheeks blushed in embarrassment, this was just another one of those clumsy situations you always got yourself in...,"I swear I had nothing to do with this."

"Mhm, I completely believe you. Here let me help" He hurried to untangle everything, collecting the string in a nice bundle around his hand until he finally got all the way back to you, the source. "There we go, you're free."

"Thank you- woah!" You tripped forward, falling into his arms with a huff...at least he'd always be there to catch you.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Merry Christmas~*⁠.⁠✧

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin x you #thoma fluff #thoma headcanons #thoma x you #thoma x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli fluff #zhongli x reader #zhongli headcanons #childe x reader #childe fluff #childe x you #childe headcanons

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variousqueerthings · 4 months

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You're monsters. Here you are, hiding away at the end of time. Do you even know why? Because you are hated.

Hell Bent... and I think this will be a funny old rating after Heaven Sent.... I wonder if I need to at one point in the future once I'm a bit less inured with this era of dw go back and watch capaldi's era again with somewhat unblinkered eyes, because my confession is that... I don't understand a lot of what happened in Hell Bent, and I'm not sure if it's because it's a whole lotta nonsense or because I've maybe gone a little too hard on watching this era in a relatively short timeframe

sexism rank objectification (female character is ogled/harassed/turned into a sex joke by the doctor and/or a lead we’re supposed to root for and/or the camera): 10/10

sexism rank plot-point (lead female character is only there to serve plot, not to have her emotional interiority explored, or given agency to her emotional interiority): 7/10

interesting complex or pointlessly complex (does the complexity serve the narrative or does it just serve to be confusing as a stand-in for smart, this includes visually): 2/10

furthers character and/or lore and/or plot development (broader question that ties into the previous ones, at least two of these, ideally three should be fulfilled): 7/10

companion matters (the companion doesn’t always have to be there, but if the companion is there, can they function without the doctor– and overall per season how often is the companion the focus or POV of the story): 6/10

the doctor is more than just “godlike” (examines the doctor’s flaws and limitations, doesn’t solve a plot by having it revolve entirely around the doctor’s existence): 4/10

doesn’t look down on previous doctor who (by erasing or mocking its importance, by redoing and “bettering” previous beloved plotpoints or characters, etc.): 7/10

isn’t trying to insert hamfisted sexiness (m*ffat famously talked a lot about how dw should be sexier multiple times, he sucks at writing it): 10/10

internal world has consistency (characters have backgrounds, feel rooted in a place with other people, generally feel like they have Lives): 3/10

Politics (how conservative is the story): 5/10

FULL RATING: 61/100 (if I can count….)

this rating is so fuckn funny to me. really up and down the scale! still, for anyone who's seen me rate a M*ffat finale before, this is by far the highest rated one. fuckn. easily. and all you needed to do, was centre the Companion character. didn't even need to write a plot that made sense (clearly)

OBJECTIFICATION: leaving on a high note, Clara is Not Objectified! neither is anyone else. gosh my standards are low sometimes.

PLOT-POINT: Clara is Not just a plot point in this either! woo! it takes us awhile to get to her, but then she has some pretty strong opinions, which she does enforce, on how she should be treated, which I think is especially Neat opposite Time Lords, who often tend to see humans (amongst many others) as inherently unimportant in the grand scheme of things

this episode honestly single-handedly gives me a lot of what I'd been constantly asking for with Clara, and while it is... well, it's very very very late into her run, it is nice that she leaves on a highnote. this idea of not wanting to die, and fighting against that death until it's on her terms is far more how I read Clara-as-character as well, versus the whole Thing in Face The Raven. thiiiis is who I see her as, at core

COMPLEXITY: so I actually went and looked at the wiki rundown of this episode and it states this -- "Aided by the Gallifreyan military, the Doctor usurps and exiles Lord President Rassilon. Now the new President, the Doctor learns that Rassilon imprisoned him in the dial to force him to confess about the Hybrid, which is prophesied by the Time Lords to stand in Gallifrey's ruins and unravel the Web of Time."

and I'm like, yeah, that's... that's what I thought happened uh, which... is all really dumb, as far as I can tell. wh- how did the Doctor's Confession Dial get to Gallifrey? why did they trap the Doctor in there as the best way to figure out the "truth" about the Hybrid? why does anyone think the Doctor knows anything about this in the first place? oh gosh, there's stuff here that belongs on the "godlike" doctor point, so I'll skip the "aided by the military" bit for now, but also... is this post-Time War then (yes, because they mention the Doctor is war hero... sigh) but... is Rassilon still in charge? how was that so easy???? what is the Web of Time, did we learn about this earlier???

all of this kind of -- as far as I can tell -- happens in the episode in a sort of "you know, all of this naturally a progression from one thing to the next" kind of way, and it's... it's not a natural progression! I've said a couple of times this season that it feels like I've missed an episode, but oh booooy does this episode hammer that home.

and that's just the opening, what happens next???

ok so the Doctor has the Time Lords retrieve Clara at the moment of her death, this is fine -- I mean, I still don't know why he's on Gallifrey to begin with, how they brought him there, or why they're doing as he tells them, but the Clara part of this story is actually the part that I enjoy!!! this is Clara's strongest episode this season and it's her goodbye! (well, I'm glad her goodbye episode doesn't suck actually, I'm glad she gets a nice send-off)

anyway then the Doctor and Clara run around Gallifrey for a bit, because technically Clara needs to go back and die, the Doctor steals a Tardis, all of this middle section, great, my love T'nia Miller is a Time Lord!!!! aw yeah!

then they go to the end end end of the Universe I guess and stumble over... Me! Me is fuckn! Still alive!!!!!!!! not a fucking scratch!!!!!!! how??????? why??????????? what is your purpose!!!!!!!

no, her purpose is to give this counterpoint about immortality and the Doctor, there's a metaphor here on idk. being this long-lived I guess. it's been done better before, numerous times, better with Jack, better with that guy in Lazarus Experiment, better in The God Complex, better with a whole buncha Time Lords, better in The Three Doctors, and I'm sure a whole host of other Classic!Who episodes I have yet to watch

the thing about Me is that she's introduced halfway through the season, her first episode is pretty good, her second episode is fiiine -- I'd say good even, on its own/in connection with the first episode, and then her third episode hits and I kinda... oh she's there to be an antagonist, but in a mysterious way where you're not sure where she stands, except she's made a whole bunch of errors, which she's not really enough of a character for me to feel any kind of sympathy with. when she realises she killed Clara, and she apologises, I don't care because she and Clara don't really have a relationship that makes it land for me

when she talks about the difficulties in setting up that refugee society, I don't care because I know we're not going to get anything really about this society and it's not going to influence the rest of the plot, and it didn't

she's such a thinly drawn character, that her use as a metaphor or a parable or a comparison or whatever she's meant to be doing is too loose for me to figure out what it is. it sucks to be immortal? I... I guess?

and now the Doctor wonders if she's not the Hybrid (which is the plottwist when the Doctor says "the Hybrid is me," he's actually saying "Me" as a name, fuckn... get it???) but... I still don't get why this Hybrid matters outside of a sudden prophecy or how it affects the greater universe that's been built. it feels like a last-minute addition to this season that they very quickly gave a few key characters a line here and there to allude to and then hoped it would stick. it makes no goshdarn sense!

technically I like this episode better than I've liked any other previous M*ffat-era finale episode, because it feels far more personal than any of those -- it's really about Clara saying goodbye on her own terms and that I really like

but the plot to get there is, as far as I can tell, nonsensical in its own internal logic.

oh, ok, to return to said plot, they're at the end of the Universe and Me -- the most immortal of all the immortals... somehow..... -- is just hanging out there in the ruins of Gallifrey, which... how'd she get there don't even worry about it, because we won't know and we've already apparently brought Gallifrey back into the main Universe somehow and I guess she just instinctively knew she'd come across the Doctor here or... idk, idkkkkk... I don't know. so much in this I don't know

the Doctor has a cunning plan to get rid of Clara's memory so that the Time Lords can't find her (?) and Clara overhears and rightfully goes "nuh-uh-uh, that's fucked up dude" (sure is, also... don't understand why it would work), but then she goes how about we basically roll the dice and one of us loses their memory and the Doctor says that sounds fair, and they do that and the Doctor has some brief Clara-amnesia

I don't understand why they do this. actually this is the main one that has me scratching my head. was it so that Clara could run while the Doctor was an amnesiac, is that what it was? I genuinely feel like maybe I just missed something on this one, but anyway, yeah, the Doctor pieces it back together, Clara runs off with Me in their Tardis (which the Doctor stole earlier) which got stuck as an American diner, the Doctor leaves in his Tardis, which had all the graffiti on it that Rigsy did, which disappears as the Tardis leaves

I think I need to rewatch that ending, because I was unclear actually on whether the Doctor remembers her face or not. it's not something that really bothers me in the way the rest of the plot-happenings in this episode do, but it's just something I wonder. I think that ending is good. I think it's bittersweet. I think it's a shame that Me doesn't feel more drawn, and that Clara didn't have much to do this season, so that them running off together felt like a natural next step, but I will take it as something one can definitely work with

I think it felt very natural to what I do feel I understand about Clara's character, and I like that she left the Doctor behind to go off on her own terms (honestly I never felt like she actually valued the Doctor much beyond what he was doing for her, but that's another post -- not like an "anti" post or anything, more of a "so Clara's kind of a messy bitch" post, which from what I've seen in fandom is something that's pretty chill of an opinion and in fact features heavily in why many people do like her character)

but yeah that plot... what?

CHARACTERS/LORE/PLOT: Clara is in suspension and will eventually die, but on her own terms. the Doctor is alone again.

Gallifrey is uh... still not sure tbh. that was confusing. Rassilon is deposed? is he? does it matter? I don't think it matters

I'll still rate this point highly, because it is another of the big switches in the story -- new companion will be coming up, let's see how these events affect the Doctor's relationship with her

COMPANIONS MATTER: Clara is more proactive in this episode than most any other of her run since... s7 I'd say. I'd have to double-check on that statement, but it has been a continuous Thing to me that Clara is there to talk fast, make witty comments, and either wait for the Doctor to give her instructions, or take matters into her own hands in ways that make her straight-up villain coded at times

in this one once she's on Gallifrey with the Doctor and they're running around in this spooky place, there's some Stuff she does, while the Doctor fetches the ersatz Tardis + she calls out the Time Lords for sucking, which is always winner behaviour

and then she decides when she dies, in the future... the long way round. still not sure about the whole mindwipe thing, but at least that's on her terms as well (although again... not villain coded but certainly unhinged and for what, that one)

“GODLIKE” DOCTOR: there's this bit at the beginning that I find insufferable, where the Doctor returns to the barn they were raised in (I do think it's funny that s7 showed the barn and then s8 was like "no yeah they were literally raised in a barn") and all the Shobogans (I'm assuming?) gather around, whispering tales of this super cool basically mythological figure, and then Rassilon orders the troops to capture the Doctor and the Doctor simply sends them off by being so cool, and then at the end Rassilon goes "fuckit kill him" and the troops are all going "no, this guy's a War Hero" and join with the Doctor and depose Rassilon for the sake of how fuckn Cool this guy is

it's everything I dislike in Who boiled into like. what was it 15 minutes or whatever of television?

also the Doctor then just steals another Tardis and runs off again, why did we need this whole build-up, there were other ways to get the Doctor to the citadel (like just straight up capturing him, you're being depicted as a military state, wtf do you care if someone has a good reputation in a war, even your super special war, and also why is the Doctor banking on this reputation, what is this whole bit saying???)

ohhhhhhhh it's soo. urgh. for the rest of the episode, the Doctor doesn't actually take centre stage so much in my opinion. once Clara is back, yeah there's some "ooh the Doctor what'll he do now" but mainly it's Clara with a bit of Time War lore sprinkled in, and then the whole bit at the end of the Universe where they reveal... do they reveal the Hybrid? is it just "the Doctor did too much to help Clara and that was bad"? genuinely does the Hybrid come up again ever???

but yeah that beginning.... at least Capaldi actually does look cool, whenever they tried something like this with Matt Smith, I was like, why is everyone staring in awe at a 12yr old?

PREVIOUS DOCTOR WHO: what is the Time War anymore but a way to make the Doctor's street cred go up?

there is stuff, like the Tardis looking like the 1963 Tardis, "reverse the polarity," the memory wipe references Donna, the Bad Wolf motif inexplicably shows up (I do wonder what that has to do with this episode) -- it's just the way that war is talked about makes my skin itch, otherwise relatively chill

“SEXINESS”: and thus, we send Clara on her next journey, happy in the knowledge that JLC, along with Capaldi, cured this run from terrible sexy dialogue

INTERNAL WORLD: Gallifrey as society? I hardly knew her. Military politics? dictatorship? Shobogans? idk, here's a barn, and now here's some. rooms. end of the Universe Gallifrey? uh. is also there

I think especially after setting up so many questions in the previous episode and ending it on that shot of the Citadel, this is kind of a let-down

POLITICS: so it's not really that political, but I did highlight the military element a few times, and I do think there should be more to it on this show than "this war guy good and that war guy bad because this is the hero and you're not." there has been more gravitas given to it than that, including in M*ffat's run so idk why... this.....

I also think the Doctor's own political relationship with Gallifrey is kind of not really a Thing in this -- and the Doctor has a more complicated relationship that "Time Lords Bad/Good" or even "always outside the Status Quo." The Doctor has done Status Quoing before, even though they're technically not a big fan of a lot of the setup in this place, but in this story none of that is really what's interesting

also a brief extra moment of "oh now I'm regenerated into a Woman, I realise that the other me was so full of Testosterone and Ego" that... ok we get it, you're trying feminism on for size. now we just need to get into the third wave, at least

FULL RATING: 61/100 (if I can count….)

AFTER ALL OF THAT, Clara leaves on a high. isn't that funny.

but seriously, there's so many questions I have, and if they do in fact get answered in the episode, mea culpa and all that, but uh. yeah, I was going "wait what's going on? why?" the entire way through

sometimes nonsense has gotta be gotten through in service to emotional pay-off, I guess. Au revoir Clara, hope you have a lovely time doing exactly what you've been doing before: getting into a toxic relationship with an ancient being in a time travel machine

(and next episode we say goodbye to River as well, lotta fuckn goodbyes happening huh)

similar question to last episode, why is it called Hell Bent? (I really need to get that list of questions together so I can do a concentrated search)

#im watching nu!who #im watching capaldi who #episode hell bent #the measurement

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doctorho · 2 years

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If you knew what the bluebirds sing (part 21)

Royal! Viktor x gender neutral reader, 2.5 k words, warnings: brief mentions of drugs and violence, but nothing graphic

hi guys!! i'm back <3 life has been a wild ride lately, and i didn't really know what to do with this chapter, i think i was just overthinking it, not sure how to lay out everything. turns out that when you start writing a story without having a plan for what happens, you might end up having to improvise some stuff. who knew.

but here we are!! finally!! sorry it took forever, i hope you’re all doing well!! yeehaw

tags: @aggressa @obsessive-sapphic @shadow-pancake9 @agatemermaid @scorpio-echo @kalisbury @viktoryscreech @ivetoldamillionlies @twilightdollie @cassandras-musings @kaimerra @raiden88 @emma-the-duck17 @thefiasco-onyourblock @pinkrose1422

The next week is a blur of passed-down notes hidden in laundry baskets, carefully planned trips to the North tower and back, and secret meetings in dark distant near-forgotten rooms of the library archives.

Empty hallways, silent as if frozen in time. Anxiety buzzing in your veins with every dangerous turn you take, and the nervousness slithering at the bottom of your stomach like a nest of blind eels.

It settles to a steady background hum, the danger. Knowing how easily this could all crumble if you got caught, or said the wrong thing, or simply happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You mostly learn to ignore it, too busy focusing on whichever task at hand was more important than worrying – but the worry lingers, on the back of your mind. Coats your skin like a thin layer of dust.

It’s a little bit like holding your breath. Like you’re always a little bit on your toes. Always waiting for something to go wrong. Holding something fragile and just waiting to trip.

It feels absurd, all of it. Being this close to something this big. Seeing Viktor gather information about everything that was going on behind his back. All the secrets, all the affairs he wasn’t supposed to meddle in. All the lies. All the secret, hushed agreements he wasn’t supposed to hear about. And you definitely weren’t supposed to hear about any of this, either; so watching it all unfold, helping him unravel it, felt like seeing something you weren’t supposed to see.

It felt like holding your fingers on the heartlines of the kingdom.

It starts simply. With Viktor wanting to map out everything he isn’t supposed to know. First, from you, and then from Jayce, and then from Caitlyn. She proves to be more helpful than you’d thought, having an insider’s perspective to whatever the guards were up to, and a good pair of eyes.

Apparently, she had already been looking into it on her own.

You had never had an actual conversation with her before, but it came clear pretty quickly that she was as done with the corruption as you were. And more than excited to jump at the opportunity to do something about it.

When she shows up to the first secret meeting, it is with a plan and a folder full of her own observations.

You’re in one of the dusty old rooms in the library, sitting around a large round wooden table that was probably at least twice as old as you were. She walks into the room, places the folder down with a dull thud, and then shifts her weight from one side to the other, and looks at both Viktor and Jayce like she’s waiting for something.

Viktor looks at the folder, and then at her, and then he simply raises one eyebrow.

“Jayce told me you needed evidence,” Caitlyn says, her voice quiet but clear, “It’s not much, but I thought I’d provide some helpful notes.”

“Not much?” Jayce comments, leaning closer to the table and tilting his head a bit, looking at the folder sideways, “That’s like, a whole book.”

Both Caitlyn and Viktor ignore him, and you just smile faintly.

Viktor leans closer to the table, and looks up at Caitlyn. “May I?” He asks, nodding towards the folder, and then looking at Caitlyn until she nods back.

“Of course,” She answers, gesturing towards the table, “I mean, it’s your kingdom.”

Viktor breathes out a quiet huff, half chuckle and half sigh. “Allegedly.” He mutters, while reaching for the folder.

A part of you wants to do…something. Reach out to him, maybe. It’s stupid, and irrelevant, and you know this isn’t even on the list of priorities at the moment, but the bitter undertone in his voice leaves you feeling like your entire soul is itching to help somehow.

Slowly, with a barely-there movement, you gently press your leg against his under the table. Just to let him know you’re there.

He knows, of course. You’re sitting on the seat next to him, yes, logically, he knows you’re there. But this is more a reminder than anything, a silent offer of comfort, letting him know that you’re there, for all of this.

He doesn’t react visibly, and doesn’t take his eyes off the folder, but his thigh presses against yours slightly.

He pulls the folder towards himself quietly and opens it, studying the first page for only a few seconds before looking up at Caitlyn again.

“Can you tell me more about this?” He asks, nodding towards the folder again.

It was full of notes and even some pictures – drawings, mostly – and it seemed to be color-coded. Or, it was colorful, and you guessed that that was probably for a reason. You doubted that Caitlyn had colored the pages and titles for fun.

She nods again, the gesture fast, short and efficient, before listing what all the colors responded to. Viktor shifts his eyes back to the notes slowly, and you do your best to follow Caitlyn’s explanation, but at least some of it slips away from your brain instantly.

Blue notes are about the guards. Red is violence, purple is drugs. She had gathered pretty much the same information you had, except from the other side of the problem and a lot earlier.

According to her, the guards had been quietly running their own operations for at least as long as she had been there, and as far as she could easily trace it back.

She doesn’t say it out loud, but that means that it’s been going on at least as long as Viktor has been occupying the throne.

That’s both a small relief and a sinking disappointment that leaves your heart feeling a bit too heavy.

It means that this started long before Viktor was old enough to do anything about it, but it also means that the problem is bigger and older than you had originally thought.

It seems to be deep-rooted into the daily life of the castle; quiet agreements with some of the important families in the city, convenient access for smuggling things in and out, and the guards always having a bit too much freedom to break the laws they were supposed to enforce.

Not all of them were in on it. But enough were that it seemed to be an open secret amongst them.

According to Caitlyn, it was one of those topics the other guards skirted around, but pretty carelessly. Talked about in off-handed remarks said only partially out loud. There seemed to be a silent agreement around how things worked, and it was easy to tell who got to play by different rules than everyone else.

And it was easy to see how they could be careless around breaking the rules when they were the ones supervising them.

The more she explains it, the thicker the air in your lungs feels. It’s wrong, and every one of you knows it, and with every passing second the problem starts to seem bigger and bigger and more out-of-reach, and it only serves to fuel your urge to tear the whole castle apart with your bare hands.

Caitlyn is angry about it, too. You can see it; the way she’s steel-focused on making things better. The way she talks about how this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Viktor sits quietly, listening. And it’s like there’s a dark cloud around him, heavy and ready to rain. He’s calm, and he speaks clearly, and listens carefully, and his movements are slow and purposeful. But there’s something lifeless about it, something hard and dense, like he’s tired of going through these motions. Like he’s wearing a mask again, performing the role he’s supposed to play. A puppet on a string trying to find a way to fight it.

Jayce is lively enough for the both of them, moving around and making wild hand gestures while coming up with plans and suggestions. He keeps his voice hushed, even though Viktor is pretty sure no-one ever even comes to the nearest hallway, nevertheless the archive wing.

Listening to the conversation feels like walking on thin ice.

You never know if – or when – it’s going to crack.

Sitting there felt weird, too. It wasn’t really a place you were supposed to be hanging around in. If anything, you should have been using your time to make sure the room was a little less dusty.

But instead, you are sitting at the table.

It’s a planned meeting. They all said they wanted you there. And yet something about it made the back of your neck crawl, like you were out of place and just waiting to be caught. Which was, you guessed, a reasonable fear, but still an annoying one. Viktor had reassured you early on that no-one else used the room – it was full of old bank statements, and no-one was interested in those. According to him, the archives were the quietest rooms in the library; stagnant, frozen in time, and of little interest to anyone.

It was shelves and shelves of old, leather-bound books and hand-pressed folders, with yellowed papers sticking out of some of them. The rooms were split up by topic; maps, infrastructure, lineage records, bank records, and who knows what else. The whole library was like a big maze, and you had never had the time to really pay attention to what was actually in there.

But Viktor had, so you believed him.

Some of the rooms had couches in them. Rooms that he liked hiding in, closer to the center of the library and within easier, faster access than the archives, which were far away from everything.

He had shown you one of his favorite spots in the library, one night; an old, red, worn-out couch in one of the smaller library rooms. There were only a few shelves, a window with a view of the gardens – an unpopular part of it, off-trail, with only the shady side of some trees visible instead of the extravagant flowers that most people there seemed to be fond of – and a fireplace.

You could see why he liked it. It was calm, and quiet, and the gentle night rain created a nice steady sound against the windows, even managing to push down some of your lingering anxiety. He had lit some candles as soon as you’d entered the room, and with the fireplace, they had provided enough light to read by.

He had read out loud to you, on the couch. One of his favorite books. It was the middle of the night, and you were pretty tired, but the moment was worth struggling to stay awake for. It was one of those rare glimpses of peace you had managed to steal, and you were going to hold onto it as best you could.

And when you’re sitting at the old conference table in the archive room, tired and angry and trying your best not to slip over to desperate, that’s what you hold onto. That feeling, that peace, that calmness. That simple happiness, that rightness that felt like something inside your heart had aligned after being slightly out-of-place for so long you couldn’t remember anything else.

That hunger to have more of it. That fragile, hollow-boned hope that maybe you could have that for real, without having to hide in the dark.

The belief that all this trouble was worth fighting for. That it was all worth the risk.

The more you look over Caitlyn’s folder, the more you hear them talk, the more you plan, the more solid the situation feels. The realer the danger gets. The more you start to feel like you’re in over your head. That you could have chosen an easier path to take.

The plan is simple; strategically uproot all the secrets, and watch the system crumble. Watch all these fragile lies break each other.

“We don’t even need to tear it down," Caitlyn had said at one point, "This world. It’s falling down on its own, all around us. We can just use the momentum.”

It was true; with the way things were now, it wasn't working. Trying to make things better was a gamble, but it was a gamble worth the risk.

You hope.

It feels dangerous. It is dangerous, and it’s big, and you knew it could end badly for all of you. And the whole time you sit there planning, your brain periodically reminds you that you don’t have to do any of this.

But that always feels hollow. It’s true, of course; you could have just walked away from all of this. You didn’t have to be a part of it. You could have just let the world go on the way it was. You could have not gotten involved.

You could have quit. You could have just turned a blind eye to all of it, you could have chosen not to get this close to the eye of the storm, the collapsing heart of the kingdom. You could have chosen to stay at a distance. Not get close to Viktor. Never look at him twice. Never think of him like this, from up close.

But even when you know that’s all technically true, you don’t believe it for a second. Because somehow this feeling, this hope for a better future, it has grown roots tightly around your heart.

And you don’t even want to get rid of it.

You want to fight for it, with your teeth bared and ready to snarl, ready to tear these rotten structures apart brick by brick. Even if it’s dangerous. Even if it’s borderline hopeless. Even if you feel too small to really be able to make a difference.

You have to try.

Because you’re pretty sure something in your heart would die and choke and wither if you didn’t.

And seeing all this injustice unfold around you felt like drowning, and even if you didn’t know if you could win, the idea of fighting felt like being able to breathe again. Like trying to swim to the surface after being submerged for a bit too long.

The night after the first secret meeting in the library, in a hushed careful voice, Viktor seems to agree.

You’re in his bed again, laying under the covers in the dark, bodies pressed so close that you could feel his breathing, slow and deep and steady.

“Do you really think we can do this?” He asks, voice barely above a whisper. You can feel his breath, warm on your skin as it fans over your face with each word.

In the darkness, it feels like the words envelop you, melting into the shadows and echoing in the chambers of your heart. There is something fragile in his voice, something hollow-boned and raw, and it sounds like he’s showing you his soul. The tired boy behind the mask.

For a single second, the whole world stands still.

“Yes,” You breathe back, into the darkness, the word nothing more than a soft exhale, “And even if we can’t, I think we have to try.”

It feels light, saying that out loud. It’s true;

You’re not sure if you could live the rest of your life wondering how things could have turned out if you stopped now. If you didn’t even try to make things better.

If you didn’t even try to swim to the surface.

You want to see this hope bloom, even if that means that it could sink some thorns into your heart in the process.

He is worth the risk.

#royal au #viktor arcane #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x reader #arcane fanfic #viktor

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darling-dummy-blogs · 2 years

Text

Nightly Drive- Victor Li

Summary: Mia was working late at the office. Everyone else had left for the day. Victor decides to come visit her, worried since he had not heard from her. He decides to take her on a nightly drive around the city to help her relax.

Paring: Victor Li X Mia (F!MC)

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!

Fandom: Mr. Love Queen's Choice

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes:

Was on a late night drive to de-stress

Gave me the idea to write this little beauty

Enjoy~

It was well past 7PM.

The sun had finished setting in the sky, replacing the pink and purple hues with a dark blue night sky scattered with twinkling stars. As the night sky enveloped Loveland City, Mia remained at her desk, working and typing away on her computer; her eyes practically glued to the screen.

Everyone in the office had long left the building. Well all except her and her co-worker, Anna. who stood at her office door, watching her with a worried look on her face, she knocked on her door to get her attention, “Mia? You’re still here?”

Mia briefly looked away from the bright screen, seeing Anna before focusing back on her work in front of her, “Yeah, I am. I’m sorry I thought everyone was gone already. I’ve just been working on fixing up this report… It has a lot of errors…”

“...Aren’t you tired? Or at least hungry? You know you could always come back to it tomorrow..” She spoke, concern laced in her voice.

Mia shook her head, “No can do Anna, knowing how Victor is, I do not want to have any mistakes on this report. I’ll be fine, I ate something earlier. I just have a few more errors to fix up. I’ll be done soon. Don’t worry about me.” She spoke as she typed, the only sounds that could be heard in the room was the sounds of her breathing, the ticking clock on the wall and the clicking and clacking sounds of her keyboard and mouse.

Anna sighed, letting out a quiet chuckle as she smiled, knowing very well how Mia can be when it comes to her job. She chose not to push it and let her do her thing,

“Alright, don’t stay too long now. Have a good rest of your night. I’ll see you in the morning.” She soon left as she said this.

Mia nodded as she continued working, surely it wouldn’t take too long to fix the little errors she had left, right?

…Wrong.

After fixing said errors, she found even more errors which revealed even more errors and more missing plot holes which practically unraveled the whole report! Another hour had passed and Mia finally felt the exhaustion finally catch up to her, she rubbed at her eyes, letting out a yawn, she looked at the time, “Crap… It’s already 8?”

She muttered as she blinked away the tiredness in her eyes, she just had to finish this, she would not be able to sleep if she left the report as it is. She stretched her arms before typing away again.

Unaware that her boyfriend, Victor, had been standing at the doorway the whole time, or at least for the past 20 minutes or so.

It wasn’t until she started typing away that he finally spoke up, bringing attention to his presence, “Dummy.. Why are you still working? Don’t you realize how late it is?” He scolded lightly, walking over to her, a worried look in his eyes.

Mia jumped at the sound of Victor’s voice, her head turning to look at him, sighing in relief, “Victor! Don’t scare me like that!” She huffed as she shook her head, “I’m aware of what time it is, I was trying to finish up my work. Why are you here?” She looked up at him as he leaned against her desk, leaning over slightly to tuck away stray hairs from her face as well as gently stroke her hair.

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the past 2 hours, my love. You didn’t answer so I decided to come here to see what you’ve been doing…” He softly spoke, his tone becoming soft and tender.

Mia glanced down at her desk, moving around the piles of papers she had surrounding her at the moment, in search of her phone. She finally found it, trying to turn it on only for the screen to remain black. “Damn it.. My phone must have died. I’m sorry love if I made you worry.” She looked at him again, "Please, forgive me for that.” She gently grasped onto the hand that was stroking her hair, gently placing a soft kiss to his palm.

Victor softly smiles, “Dummy.. You never let me rest easy.” He gently booped her nose, making her giggle as her cheeks flushed lightly at the affection.

She looked at the computer screen with a soft sigh, “I was just trying to finish this report but it ended up unraveling and now it’s all over the place…” She whined as she ran her fingers through her hair in slightly exasperation and frustration.

Victor nodded in understanding, “I understand, darling. I know how hard you work but you’ve been working on it for how long now? Several hours? With little rest and not enough energy you will not be able to work efficiently like that. I think you should just leave it for now. There is always tomorrow.” He spoke, trying to coax her into leaving.

Mia shook her head, “No I can’t. I want to finish this.” She spoke stubbornly and dismissively as she tried to go back to work.

But Victor was not having it. Not one bit. “Mia. It’s time to stop.” He sternly spoke, placing his hand over hers to prevent her from doing more.

Mia looked up at him, frowning, “Victor…”

“No, Mia. You’re exhausted. It’s time to stop. You can come back to it later. Now it’s time to go home.” He stared at her, the worried look in his eyes still present. He then softened his gaze, his tone soft once more, “Please? I just don’t want you to overwork yourself to an unhealthy degree, my love.”

Mia sighs as she looks from Victor to her computer, moving to close the document and shut down her computer, standing up as she puts away the piles of papers into a neater pile. She turned to face him, a pout on her face, knowing that she couldn’t get her way.

He gently pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly as he nuzzled his nose against hers, “You can pout at me all you want, you know I’m right.”

“Yeah yeah…” She muttered, burying her face against him, relaxing and taking in his scent as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “All this coming from the one who always overworks himself… you big meanie..” She muttered, as she held onto him.

Victor lets out a soft laugh, “I’ve learned from a certain dummy to not work my life away. I’ll accept being a big meanie if it means you get to come home.” He kisses her forehead, gently nudging her head to get her to look at him.

Mia looked up at her boyfriend, getting lost in his eyes as she softly smiled, knowing very well that she could never be mad at him. “That dummy must have been pretty smart if she was able to convince you to not work your life away.”

Victor smiles, being able to see that beautiful smile that made his heart pound within his chest. “Mm, maybe she is pretty smart.” He gently rests his forehead against hers, staring into her eyes.

“Well I’d hope she is smart!” She softly giggled as she nuzzled him gently, feeling more affectionate after sitting at her desk for several hours.

He laughed again, leaning down to capture her lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. One that she melted into and reciprocated. He wrapped his arms around her waist holding her close as the kiss deepened slightly.

Her hands gently tangled in his hair as she relaxed more into the kiss, her cheeks flushed as the kiss alone made her feel weak in the knees, she grasped onto him as much as she could. After a while, he was the first to pull away, smiling as he breathlessly spoke, “Come on, let me take you for a drive before going home. That always helped me feel more at ease after a long day at work.”

Mia nods as she pulls away from his arms to gather her belongings. Victor walked over to the door as she made sure everything was turned off. Once she was ready, she walked over to Victor, who held out his hand to her.

She gladly took his hand as they walked out of the office building, making their way to Victor’s car. He opened the passenger door for her, helping her get in before shutting it and walking around to the driver’s side.

Once they were all set to go, Victor started the car; the engine roaring to life as he pulled out of parking, heading into the once bustling city.

Mia looked out the window as they passed several buildings and shops that were either closing or already closed, the street lights casting shadows along several trees and cars as they drove in the direction of home.

She relaxed in her seat, the exhaustion taking over her once again. Her eyes fluttered close as they peacefully drove in silence. It wasn’t long until she soon drifted off to sleep, allowing herself to finally rest at last. Victor glanced over at her when they were stopped at a stoplight.

He couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on his face, his heart beating wildly in his chest at the sight before him. He couldn’t help but to stop time at this exact moment, to fully capture how beautiful the love of his life looked, peacefully sleeping.

Victor’s smile widened as a soft look took over his features, letting out a soft chuckle, he tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear as he softly whispered.

“Dummy… Get some rest. We’ll be home soon…”

#mlqc #mlqc fanfic #mlqc fluff #mr love queen's choice #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #victor mlqc #mr love victor

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anythingstephenking · 2 years

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I’m Here for Holly

Holly’s back, tell a friend! Jason Bateman is kinda a part of it! Fun for the whole family.

I haven’t read King at such a breakneck pace in a while, and I’m pretty stoked to be back in the swing of things, if not for the sole reason I’m so close to the finish line.

Non-book related personal anecdotes; therapy is really helpful y’all. I’ve been in a bit of a funk lately and while I know I’ll eventually drag myself out of it, I rarely know where to start. My therapist is A++ at helping me set reasonable goals. This go-round the depression-sun, I decided it was all my phones fault. It’s not, but I like to have something to blame.

I’ve committed myself to 1 goal; no tv + aimless scrolling. You know how it goes; you turn the boob tube on, pick up your phone, dick around on Reddit, and boom! 4 hours of your life is gone, lost to subreddits about idiot drivers and people asking if they’re the asshole.

The best way to stay off my phone is to pick up a book. Eventually I will want to clean the house and work on projects but this is good enough for now. So thanks to my main man Steve for writing stories so interesting I don’t miss spending my evenings getting enraged by random shit pricks post on the internet.

Ace Ventura says alrighty then! Let’s get to what we came here for, and that is the delightful return of Holly Gibney and things that go bump in the night.

King pulled his inspiration for this novel from the Poe short story, William Wilson, which is referenced several times in the story. I kinda miss the early days when you googled why King wrote a story and the answer is “someone said a junkyard dog didn’t like his face.” As B*Witched once said, c’est la vie.

The Outsider’s basic premise is this: what would happen if someone could be in two places at once? How could someone both commit and not commit a heinous crime? Are doppelgängers real? Is anything real?

Terry Maitland is your regular ol’ boring suburban dad. He coaches football and little league in small town America. A young boy is found murdered (in the most AWFUL way possible y’all) and Terry is literally all over the crime. Prints, DNA, eyewitnesses; if it was an episode of Dateline it would be a quick one, not one of those two-hour mystery specials where there’s a ton of twists and turns but then it was just the husband all along? It’s always the husband.

Not this time tho! Terry’s case is not so simple. Because Terry didn’t do it, someone wearing his face did? Is this a 90’s blockbuster staring John Travolta and Nicholas Cage?

Things unravel from there. I think I’ll skip a full plot summary this time, but needless to say it’s an endlessly captivating tale. My only gripe is Holly doesn’t show up early enough - the first 200 pages or so I was yelling “you promised me Holly!” to my book until she finally showed up being the best endearing weirdo in only a way she can.

I truly did not enjoy the Bill Hodges Trilogy (save Finder’s Keepers where there was minimal Bill to annoy me) but I lurve Holly Gibney. I hoped after finishing End Of Watch that she’d get a romantic arc in this one; she doesn’t, but she has earned the titular spot in King’s upcoming Holly, so I will remain hopeful. But really, Holly don’t need no man.

The Outsider was a couple things to me.

Firstly, a study on the power of ignorance and what lurks when people fail to believe in what is possible. What was imitating Terry Maitland’s was, surprise, not of this world, allowing this creature to travel, feed, frame, feed some more, rinse and repeat. For how long? No one knows but probably a long time. What would you say if someone’s bloody fingerprints and semen was found at the site of a child murder? We all have watched enough Forensic Files to know what that means. A world that doesn’t understand can’t fathom another outcome.

Holly almost died taking down Brady Hartsfield and his magical off-brand iPads, so she believes, and thank goodness she does because, per usual, she saves the day.

Secondly, a slight on the criminal justice system and incarcerated innocent individuals. This one ….might…. be a stretch. But there’s enough dumb cops being irrational and innocent people getting the death penalty to make a case. Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s a demon from another world wearing her skin for clothes.

All in all, a delightful page turner with countless twists and turns, your good guys and bad guys, your supernatural creature defeated in a pretty innocuous way. All the fixings for a solid King. He’s still got it y’all.

8/10

First Line: It was an unmarked car, just some nondescript American sedan a few years old, but the blackwall tires and the three men inside gave it away for what it was.

Last Line: That was good.

Adaptations

I have been WAITING so hard for this! My unwritten rules to myself are that I do not watch adaptations without first reading the source material. The miniseries aired in 2020 on HBO and it killed me to sit it out.

I actually watched this as I read, not breaking my own rules per-se, walking that fine line. I’d check the episode summary on IMDB, make sure I was squarely past those plot points on the novel, and watch an episode or two a night.

I adored this miniseries. Holly was perfect (obvs). I also appreciate the casting of a black actress, so all the “I’m not a racist” idiots on the internet pissing and moaning that Holly is white would reveal themselves. Cynthia Erivo played Holly to a T. I just wish Jason Bateman was around longer; credited for 4 episodes, he’s only really in 2. We all need more Bateman in our lives.

I also enjoyed that Paddy Considine was here, playing a meth-addict-turned-straight strip bar bouncer, while he’s also kicking around on my HBO screen playing King of the Annals and the First Men Viserys Targaryen on House of the Dragon. Man’s got range.

Holly DOES get her relationship arc on the screen and I was so happy for her until the final shootout where I offhandedly said to myself “if they kill Andy I will scream” then they did, and I did.

They leaned hard into the supernatural aspect, which I’m pleased they didn’t tip toe around. People moaned that the monster was too easily defeated, but I’m not sure what Battle of the Bastards epic level fight these people were expecting. Holly and a middle aged cop in a cave doesn’t exactly scream that a Battle Royale is coming.

I’m done with Elevation and onto The Institute next. 6 books left!

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Text

Ocean Spit

Titan! Eren Jaeger x Reader [ + normal form Eren Jaeger]

◙warnings: monsterfucking then normal fucking, multiple orgasms, overstim, a lot of liquids, size difference to the max. Minors dni (18+ only.)

◙word count: 2.5k

◙summary: Eren offers to walk the both of you to the ocean and when you two get there, in a secret little cove, he decides to try something out. You enjoy it thoroughly.

◙note: I had to hold back on being too gross. Not so gentle reminder: do not post me on tiktok, especially this and my darker content.

When Eren first offered to walk the two of you to the ocean, you denied. Walking that far? Absolutely not. You would prefer to keep your legs on your body.

But then he clarified that he would be using his titan form, and technically all you had to do was hold on to him with ODM gear, that sounds much better.

So here you are, hanging onto the strands of hair of his titan form as the ocean slowly gets bigger and bigger in your field of vision. It’s beautiful, especially from up so high. It sparkles more than any shiny metal you have ever seen, and it is bluer than any eyes you have ever met, it reflects the sun back into your eyes you almost have to squint to see it clearly. Thankfully, Eren’s big head is blocking some of the sun’s reflection from hitting you.

The ODM gear is digging into his skin but you think that he can’t even feel it, like a needle pricking into his skin. The rocking of his titan form could make you fall asleep if you aren’t careful, everything just feels so serene. Quiet. You two do not need to talk, can’t technically, but the silence is still comfortable.

Before you know it you can hear the ocean’s waves and Erens giant titan feet splashing into the water. You want to ask him where you two are going but you know he won’t hear, or wouldn’t be able to respond properly, so you put all your trust in him to keep you safe. Thunderous splashes of the ocean sound so small from where you are and all the blue you admired on the way here could wash you away with home much there simply is. And the smell? Wow, salty, expensive, and so new. There are several smells you aren’t able to recognize, something a little foul but not enough to scare you away, and another thing that smells like some sort of plant but still pure sea.

Wind blowing past you as he walks, curling around your body as you close your eyes and bask in the sunlight and sensations until he stops at a little cove, closed in by rocks and exclusive access to only him or a small boat. The thing is these rocks are too slippery to grab onto, your ODM gear would do fine but not you. Thankfully, Erens sinking down onto his knees in the water so you are closer to the ground of rock, his big hand reaching around so you have some sort of leverage and step to get down. A weird, gentlemanly titan version of an escort that leaves you giggling as you finally step onto the rock.

Everything is so interesting, it’s hard to take in so many new things at once but Eren is right here, right in front of you in all his titan glory which keeps you grounded. His had that helped you down comes around to pull at your gear, an attempt to be gentle but still get his message of ‘Take this off’ across.

“Take off my clothes?” You try to confirm the demand that is leaving your skin warmer than when the sun was hitting it. You figured you two would swim but you also assumed that he would be in his usual, human form. But Eren lets out an affirmative huff which blows your cape and hair back a bit. So you strip as he watches intently, darkened titan eyes observing your little body slowly get naked beside your underwear.

Then he’s gently tracing a large finger to the edge of your panties, a silent demand to take them off too. It’s embarrassing, your whole body is hot and maybe it would be less so if he was his normal size. But his huge titan form feels like a whole audience within those eyes of his. You comply anyways, slipping your underwear off into a small pile away from the wake of the water.

Another huff, more content, as he sits back into the water a bit, lower and closer to you, keeping his hand close to your body as you shift around on your feet. His tongue slips out and he’s leaning closer, the hand behind you coming to bump into the back of your knees and he’s licking your legs, the muscle so strong causing you to fall back into his hand.

Everything he’s doing seems so calculated. His tongues spit covering your legs as you rest into his hand. He’s observing you, checking to see any signs of him being too rough or if you want him to stop but all he sees is you squirming, embarrassed on his rough hand.

You should feel at least a bit ashamed for liking this but seriously, your inner thighs are slowly being drench and it’s not just his spit that’s soaking you or the occasional sprays of the ocean water. You taste salty, and sweet at the same time. Like those expensive candies made of caramel that you can only buy in the inner walls.

Was this his idea all along? To have his tongue licking over your bare cunt as you lay helpless in his hand. One long lick feels good, but then he’s putting the tip of his tongue right over your cunt and pushes, and all the pressure has you grasping onto his fingers as he pulls an abrupt orgasm from you. You cum so hard and so quickly it almost hurts. Tongue still on you as you curse, everything is making your body buzz and sing with the sensations he’s pulling from you. Holy shit. He can pull another orgasm from you easily if he doesn’t stop.

But he keeps his tongue on you, breath huffing over your body keeping you warm as your whole body clenches and is thrown into another orgasm. He brings his other hand from the water to hold you delicately between them, finally pulling back his tongue for a second. You look debauched, soaked in his drool and heaving breaths from cumming so hard and so quickly.

He can see you moaning out something, his name he hopes, as he takes his thumbs across your body, holding you like a doll, rolling his thumbs gently across your breast. No matter how soft he is trying to be it still feels rough. The strength difference and the texture of his skin all add to the buzzing under your skin.

You feel helpless and safe at the same time. As his thumbs travel across your body and press gently in between your legs, he could easily squish you if he wasn’t treating you so softly, so carefully. But your cunt feels so sensitive already, puffy and slick, fluttering around nothing has his tongue strokes over it more.

You let him play with your body, hands caressing his giant fingers as they manipulate and grope you. He cups his hand one more time, you laying in it, and employs his tongue once again. Licking at your legs, hot breath fanning over you again causing all the liquids around you to feel warm again, his tongue works over your chest. Rough skin overstimulating your nipples easily. His movements are attempts of delicacy but he is literally a giant, there is only a small extent of how delicate he can be. Your body is trapped in his cupped hand at the mercy of his tongue. You have never heard yourself moan this loud, maybe it’s an attempt to reach his ears but honestly, it is involuntary at this point. The coarse texture of his tongue glides over your puffy and abused cunt one more time before you are unraveling again, cumming loudly on his tongue once more before his hand is settled to the rocks below.

You settle back against his hand, body exhausted chest rising and falling to try to catch up your thoughts and energy. Until you hear him rip out of the nape. Everything feels just fuzzy like all those orgasms ripped your senses away with them. You don’t even realize Eren is beside you, pulling you up from the slowly steaming palm of his titan’s hand on trembling legs. But then your legs are buckling and he holds you and falls to the rocky ground with you to cushion your fall.

You finally look at him and his face is red down to his chest, eyes struggling on where to look at you because every part of you is alluring right now, completely drenched and toyed with by his titan form. He looks like a wild cat, disheveled, and the titan markings decorating his face don’t help him look sane.

Before you can say anything, Eren is tripping out of his clothes, attempting to throw them into the pile where yours rest against the rocks and away from the water. He’s trailing his hands down your body that’s covered in titan spit and your cum and slick sticking between your legs.

“Can we- can I-” He’s embarrassed to even ask but you get the message into your fuzzy brain. But he’s been toying with you all this time, it’s not unfair to with him back, right?

“Can you what, Eren?” You lean back into the rocks so he can stare at more of your body, “Tell me.”

He knows what you are doing but he falls into the trap nonetheless, “Can we- well can we, you know…” He sighs and hovers over you to look you in the eyes. “Can I fuck you now?” You want to laugh at him, he rarely ever gets shy but in these situations, he can’t help it. You quirk your brow in response, encouraging him to continue and he scoffs.

“Whatever, nevermind,” his threat of not following through usually works to get you to tug him into you, to finally get to the main event going, but this time it doesn’t. He’s too embarrassed to say anything else.

“That’s not gonna work, Eren,” you sing out, “Your titan form gave me a few very nice orgasms, I’m content if we stop.”

He never knew he could be jealous of his titan form but here he is. He was the one doing that to you, not just his titan form, him. That’s what spurs his words on, “Can I please fuck you? While you’re covered in my titans drool that gave you such nice orgasms?” He spits out his words like sour candy.

You throw your arms around his neck as you giggle, “Since you asked so nicely, but you have to do most of the work.” You feel boneless from being manhandled (titanhandled?) and he understands, it’s not like he hasn’t done all the work before. He pulls back to look at your cunt, clenching around nothing and soaked for a multitude of reasons. Fuck, it’s erotic. Swollen and slick, already overstimulated by his titan’s tongue and begging for his cock.

He taps his cock against your sensitive clit and watches your thighs jolt in response. All the liquids easily lube up his cock, sliding it over your clit one more time to see your reaction which makes you jolt a bit from the pleasurable and stinging sensation before he glides his cock into your clenching walls. His head rolls back at the feeling and once he is in all the way, he grasps your hips, digging his blunt nails into your skin to have some leverage, and pulls you into his thrusts. Your cunt is tight and constricting around him and so wet, it’s almost unbearable. Back arching, hands grabbing at his to feel at least a little grounded because you would be sliding against the rocks if it wasn’t for his grip.

“Eren, fuck-” he is using your body, you feel almost limp like a toy as he keeps bringing you down on his cock, the rocks below scratch at your back but the buzz humming through your body makes it hard to care. The overstimulation feels like a pleasant burn throughout your lower half but his cock inside you feels so good and that burning sensation only adds to the pleasure.

The slapping of your thighs hitting is absurdly loud and wet, he is very glad that no one is near the two of you; otherwise, they would get an earful of debauched moans shared between the two of you and the lewd paps intensified by titan spit and your cum.

He’s pushing moans out of you, your cunt tightening as another orgasm and he can feel everything. The soft ridges of your cunt and the soft patch he’s hitting that sends you over, your nails digging into his hands as he stills inside you. The tightening of your cunt sends him into a well-earned orgasm because the whole time his titan form was playing around with your body he’s been hard. Cum filling up your hole and when he finally pulls back he watches your cunt push out his seed that only adds to the mixture of juices surrounding your lower half and pooling below your ass.

Chest heaving, it feels like your whole body is blurry as he lovingly strokes your thighs.

“Are you okay?” It feels like he has finally processed how fucked you looked. Blissed out and leaning back against the rock, you just hum. You can’t even focus your eyes enough to see his red face, embarrassed and blissed out at the same time. He shimmies your body up, propped against his chest, and gradually moves the two of you to the water.

He sits the two of you on a high sitting part of the cove submerged in water. The water feels nice against your tired skin, washing away all the other liquids sticking to you as Eren holds you tightly to his chest as if you will wash away with them. You are glad he’s holding onto otherwise you would be with how lax you are laying against him. He’s starting to feel a little bad but you look so content laying against his chest, eyes closed in content with the salty water cleaning off your body and soaking your sore muscles.

Ah, you could stay like this forever.

/ / :

You’re upset with him, he knows it. You couldn’t even use your ODM gear because of how much he wore you out and you can’t walk properly even a day later. Armin came in to check up on you but he couldn’t even look you in the eye and Mikasa is avoiding your bed like the plague besides bringing you food.

The glare you are sending his way makes him play with his fingers.

“Eren Jaeger…”

He avoids you and looks out the window instead, with his cheeks red and smile faltering across his lips.

“What did you tell them?”

He sucks his lips into his teeth, “I don’t really have to tell them, It’s kind of obvious…”

You throw a pillow at him which he lets hit his face as you both hear footsteps padding down the hallway.

Connie peaks his head in, “Did y’all really go to the ocean to fu-”

Another pillow is thrown. At least they don't know the full story.

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰: @kenmachishi @anzais @novvabeam @armins-bowl-cut @yourtamaki

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !! 🖤

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Text

nightmares

Includes: Childe, Albedo, Xiao

Warnings -> STRONG emotional images (panic attack, spectral hands grasping at character, feeling of overwhelming fear and dread) -> leads to comfort

Synopsis: Nightmares plague the characters sleep and they wake up startled - the reader comforts them

I’m a SUCKER for painful things man - I want to put them through hell just to pull them back up again ...

Anthology

Childe

He was drowning, suffocating by the thousands of hands pulling him deeper into the terrifying darkness he ran from. Their nails dug into his skin, pulling it back to reveal the horrors laying underneath. The thousands of vile acts he had done in service of the Tsaritsa, for the Fatui, now pouring from him and feeding the hunger of the hands, urging them to dig deeper into him until there was nothing left.

He reached out toward the distant light, gasping and desperate.

Childe...

The light called to him, speaking his name as if he were worth more than being a simple tool, a means to an end. The dirty hands grabbed at his face, he struggled with every ounce of his strength to get away. The fear of seeing what lay beyond the reach of the light spurring his determination. He screamed and nothing came out, instead his mouth filled with bloody fingers.

Childe violently awoke, lurching forward with incredible force and urgency. He was drenched in sweat and fiercely forced air into his lungs. When he felt a hand on his arm he jerked away stumbling from the bed in heartbreaking distress.

“Childe …” he heard your voice, saw your hand reaching out to him, saw how you looked at him as if he were some wild animal: fearfully. “It’s me … do you see me.” he watched as you moved the sheets from your legs. “You’re safe, it’s okay.” you moved toward the edge of the bed, “Put the knife down.” He looked down into his hand and saw he was gripping onto the knife which he kept in the nightstand. His fingers wrapped so tightly around it that they had turned a painful shade of white.

The beating of his heart continued to race even as he straightened himself out, even as he rubbed the sweat from his forehead.

“I’m okay …” he spoke the words more to himself than to you, like a montra he recited every day. I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay.

He heard the bed creak and, returning his attention to you, he saw you making your way toward him, hands open in an attempt to show him you didn’t mean any harm.

“Is it okay? Can I come to you?” the words are covered in honey, and he knew you were trying to cover up the hesitation of your steps. He placed the knife on the windowsill and nodded, making sure you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

The feeling of your arms wrapping around him was akin to a drug. You provided him with comfort he’d never known, the sensation of your face resting against his chest, he reveled in it. Your voice had this magical power of reaching him no matter where he was, or what he was.

“Your heart is beating so fast. That must have been one intense dream.” your lips connect with the space over his beating heart.

“You can’t imagine,” he breathes into your hair, resting his face in it’s wild locks. He lets your scent fill him up, and this connection helps to calm him.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” you shift your head making him lift his own, you stare at one another in the moonlit room before he finally answers your question.

“I don’t want to make my fears your own,” he places a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m pretty tough, I can handle it.” you squeeze your arms around him in a playful manner which elicited a chuckle from Childe. “But, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll always listen, if you ever change your mind.”

His heart rate slowed, thanks to the proximity of your own giving it the ability to match it’s pace.

“Thanks,” He scooped you up and led you back to the bed, and once you got settled in between the sheets he slid down to rest his head against your chest. There he was able to drift back into a peaceful sleep by the rhythmic thumping of your heart and the movement of your fingers in his hair.

Albedo

There was a long hallway, incredibly long, unending. His footsteps echoed off the walls and when he glanced upward he couldn’t find the ceiling. A child was laughing further down the passage, and he followed after it until he reached a blinding light, without hesitation he stepped through it.

On the other side was a bustling city filled with laughing citizens weaving between one another, going about their day under the warmth of the sun. As he walked through the streets, he noted how the citizens didn’t seem to mind him. A woman stumbled before him and he reached out his hand to help her, when she turned to thank him her face contorted into uncomfortable, inhumane shapes. She screamed causing Albedo to stumble backwards and, in unison, every citizen stared at him, their mouths open, screaming. Their voices culminated into an unholy sound which unraveled his soul.

Suddenly, shackles appeared around his wrists, his ankles, his neck. Their icy touch seeping into his skin. When he touched them the screaming only grew louder which caused him to cover his ears, tears falling from his eyes onto the stones below, which were now covered in snow. He looked up and saw burning buildings. Screaming families desperately trying to hold onto their children as the walls crumbled around them. He looked onward, and without warning the ground beneath him opened up and swallowed him whole.

Albedo, in a hysterical fit, pushed himself off of his chest and onto his knees. His arms extended to keep him from the mattress and he watched how it became damp from the sweat dripping off of him. His heart was beating way too fast, he couldn’t breath, his chest felt tight and it began to make him panic.

“Albedo?” a voice called to him, but the beating in his ears made it impossible to hear. He felt a hand slide along his back and it caused him to sit up suddenly, smacking the hand away from him. When his eyes saw you in the darkness he wondered what face he must be making based on the way you looked at him.

“Albedo …” you called again. He grasped at his chest hoping he could find a way to pull the invisible weight off of him. His breathing still erratic. “Hey, look at me.” you told him, and when he looked at you he saw you were now sitting closer to him, your hand extended to his chest. The warmth of your fingers broke through the chill smothering his body and he watched as you pulled his hand to your chest.

“Do you feel my heartbeat? Feel my breathing.” and he did. The even in and out of your chest, the steady thump of your heartbeat. He felt them. “That’s it, match my rhythm.” You placed your other hand on his shoulder, which provided him another way to ground himself. The images started to fade from his mind and were replaced by the outline of your frame, illuminated by the soft light from the bedside table.

You looked at him and gave him a warm smile. “Keep breathing, I’m here.” You stroke his face and that’s when he learns he had been crying. He pressed his face into your palm, breathing in the sweet smell of your skin. “I’m here, and I’ll be here until you’re ready to sleep again.”

You stayed with him even as the sun started to fill your room and birds chirped out morning salutations.

Xiao

An epic battle raged around him, the sounds of victorious and pained screams mixing with the clashing of swords and heavy claymores. He was running quickly through the mass of bodies thrusting and flying through the air. His mind focused and clear, it had to be if they were expected to win.

To his left he saw the flash of red fabric, to his right he heard the booming voice of another and when he found the source he smiled to himself. It seemed that even through all of this the yaksha’s were able to relish and live. He felt his heart move at their elegant movements, how they used the strength of one another to quell the mania of the world. Xiao continued to run, his movements turning into a blur at the speed. In fact, he ran so fast that time seemed to move with him until he came skidding to a stop in an open field.

He looked behind him confused as to how he got here, wondering if he had passed through some portal or door. He was alerted to a shriek and turned forward only to feel a sharp stabbing sensation pierce his chest. It propelled him backwards and as he fell, red strings claimed him. They wrapped around him, completely enveloping him and held him suspended. Again, there was a shriek. He turned his head and wished that he hadn’t. He saw the face of his kin pleading and begging to another before being struck down violently. Their body ripping in half before him. The yaksha decorated in purple garments turned and with a great thrust of their weapon impaled another. Xiao watched as their body, bathed in blue light, went limp and with the flick of the wrist were tossed into oblivion.

Xiao writhed and pulled at the strings capturing his limbs, he spat and yelled but couldn’t escape. His head shook violently, unable to deal with the scene in front of him, and unable to do anything to stop it. He closed his eyes letting his angry tears drop into the black water slowly rising over his body.

“Xiao,” a voice called out and when he opened his eyes he saw the dangling bodies of his yaksha family impaled against the nothingness which drowned him.

He awoke in a fit. He felt the scream spill from his throat as he lurched upward. Around him things began to fall to the floor, toppling back to the ground as if a huge gust of wind had picked everything up all at once. Before his eyes a piece of paper fluttered past him before slipping under the trunk next to the window. Something touched his shoulder and in a second he had the perpetrator in a tight hold, one hand viciously wrapped around their wrist and the other gripping onto an arm.

“It’s me, it’s me!” his eyes were clouded, but he knew the voice. “Come back … it’s me.” The breath in his lungs was hot, almost as if he had been standing next to an active volcano. His mouth was heaving in an attempt to grasp back to reality, to still his overworked mind. The sound of humming filled the room, it’s soft, slow tone pulling him in. He focused on it, taking the tune in as if it were a lifeline, the only light in the dark space which surrounded him. After a bit, his eyesight began to clear and when he saw you, eyes closed humming to him, and his hand digging into your wrist he quickly let go.

“You’re back,” you whisper, sending him a soft, ‘i’m relieved’ smile.

He crawled off of the bed and made his way to the window, desperately in need for some fresh air, and an escape.

“Whatever you saw in your dream, must have been very frightening.” your voice stilled his movements. “I’ll be here when you decide to come back,” he looks back at you, your legs crossed, hands resting in the blanket. The moonlight illuminates the space there, casting white shadows along your chest and face. You look like an ethereal being in this moment, and there is a call in his chest to return to you.

His heart is still so heavy, and even though his breath has returned to a normal state, buzzing energy continues running through his veins. He looks at your wrist and can see a bruise beginning to form. He can’t risk letting his energy out with you near him, it’s too dangerous. Even though he feels the stab in his chest, he slips out the window and into the night sky.

In the morning when you wake up you find qingxin flowers resting on the table next to the bed. You lift them and inhale their scent.

“How did you sleep?” you turn to see Xiao perched in the window, his eyes downcast.

“Alright,” you sniff the flowers again, “you came back.”

He huffs at you and looks back out the window. His back resting against the windowsill, one leg bent so he can rest his arm on it, the other dangling over the edge. Sliding out of the bed you make your way over to him, taking up the space at his side. He looks at you and you can see he is looking at the bruise on your wrist. Placing his head in his palm he reaches down and grabs onto your wrist with the other. His fingers brush over the darkening skin.

“Welcome back.” you whisper into the wind.

#genshin impact #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin impact X reader #childe X reader #genshin childe #childe #albedo x reader #genshin albedo #albedo #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #xiao

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sweetyyhippyy · 3 years

Text

Versace on the Floor. Spencer Reid x Reader.

(Not my gif.)

Summary: After JJ and Will’s wedding, Spencer is in the mood. Spencer and reader to home and have a romantic night of sex.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Tw: Not for readers under 18! Teasing, heavy making out, mentions of alcohol, fingering, calling Spencer daddy, lots of praising, cream pie, language.

Word count: 3.2k

A.N.: So this is based around the song Versace on the Floor by Bruno Mars. I fee like I’m kinda bad at song based fics but I had to do this 😅 I hope you enjoy!! Italicized and indented lines are the song!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let's take our time tonight, girl Above us all the stars are watchin' There's no place I'd rather be in this world Your eyes are where I'm lost in Underneath the chandelier We're dancin' all alone There's no reason to hide What we're feelin' inside Right now

The team watched, hearts full and smiles on their faces as JJ and Will stood under the beautiful flower altar, exchanging their vows and wedding rings with Henry between them.

Spencer wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body and pressing a kiss to your head. You melt into his side and rest your head on his shoulder, the perfect little shelf for you. You could feel his thumb slowly going back and forth against your side making you shiver and give him a look out of the corner of your eye.

As Will and JJ kiss, everyone claps and cheers, the officiator announcing them officially as husband and wife.

There was a beautiful dinner planned, full of lots of white wine for toasting and drinking, and lots of talking, laughing and good times. The whole dinner, Spencer’s hand never left your thigh, it was completely innocent as far as where his hand was placed, but she knew that he had other intentions deep down.

There was a bit of back and forth teasing while the two of you got ready for the wedding. He knew what seed you were planting when you asked Spencer if he could see any panty lines on your dress, and when he said yes, you slid your panties off immediately, and walked out of the room, making Spencer's head spin. To get his revenge on you in the least obvious way possible, he kept his hands on your waist the entire time you tied his bowtie, giving you a squeeze here and there until you finished. You already had a thing for ties in general, and for some reason it got you going when he let you tie his tie for him.

You held your hand out to Spencer, standing up from your chair. “Come dance with me?”

Spencer smiles up at you and takes your hand, leading to the makeshift dance floor in Rossi’s backyard, the yard lit up by beautiful lantern lights up above them.

You wrap both your arms around his neck, both of you lovingly looking into each other’s eyes as you sway back and forth to the soft music playing in the back.

“You are so beautiful, you know that?” Spencer says warmly. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, handsome.” You reply, gingerly kissing his lips.

The hold you two had turned into Spencer hugging you against him tightly, his head resting on your shoulder in turn. It was as if nobody else was around at the moment, in their mind it was just the two of them holding one another in complete bliss.

“You know I only want you, baby? I want you for the rest of my life.” Spencer says in your ear.

You let out a breathy laugh and rub your nails against his back. “You only want me? Forever? Are you sure? Forever is a long time, Spence.”

Spencer lifts his head up and looks into your eyes, his heart fluttering as you stare back at him. “Yes, I have never been so sure about anything.”

“Well I want you forever. If you think you can handle and keep up with me forever.”

Spencer bites his bottom lip to fight the smile threatening to surface. “The real question is whether or not you can handle me forever, pretty girl.”

“Why don’t we find out? You want to get out of here?”

Spencer nods his head and both of you go around the party saying bye to the rest of the team before walking out to their car. Before you get in the car, you feel Spencer come behind you, wrapping himself around your body, dropping his head down to kiss your bare shoulder.

“Starting off with a taste of what I’m going to get tonight?” You remark, your eyes fluttering closed as he continues to pepper your skin with his lips.

“I can’t help it.” He says simply.

“The sooner we get home is the sooner we can play.”

Spencer pulls back from your skin and opens the car door for you, closing it once you settle in the seat.

——————

So baby let's just turn down the lights And close the door Oooh I love that dress But you won't need it anymore No you won't need it no more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked, baby Versace on the floor

Spencer wanted to pounce on you the second you walked through the doorway into the house you two shared, and have his way with you on the couch, the kitchen counter, even on the dining room table. But his hands instead found their way to your hips as you walked through the hallway, pulling your back against his chest, his hands clinging to your body tightly.

“I love you.” He rasps, kissing the spot below your ear.

“I love you more.”

You walk into the bedroom together, Spencer still wrapped around your waist as he kicks the door behind you shut. His fingers find the straps of your dress and pull them down your shoulder, not missing an inch of skin with his lips. Your whole body shivered as you felt the stubble on his face rub against your skin, loving how it scratched against you.

“I do love that dress, and how it looks on your body, pretty girl.” He whispers, his hands raking over your body as he feels your entire torso. “But I think it’ll look even better on the floor.”

You hum in response, reaching your arm up to find his hair and wrap your fingers around the curls. Your whole body was buzzing; from the alcohol you were drinking earlier as well as Spencer’s touch, as the soft kisses continued in the middle of the room, there was nothing that you loved more than how soft Spencer could be with you.

Spencer pulls his head back and ushers you to the bed, instructing you to lay down and wait for him.

You watched as he kicked his shoes off and walked over to the dresser on the other side of the room, pulling the lighter out and lighting the plethora of candles you had one by one. The dark room lit up dimly as Spencer strategically placed the candles on both sides of their bedside tables. You smile as Spencer walks back to the bed, crawling up to you and dropping his head down to kiss your lips again.

Both of you were rolling around the bed, making out, heavily with one another. You managed to wrap your legs around Spencer’s waist, bringing him closer to you as he started to press his crotch against you, feeling how painfully hard he already was.

“I want you so bad, pretty girl.” Spencer whispers.

“I want you too, but I really want you naked. Sit up, babe.” You say, unraveling your legs from him.

He quickly gets up, watching as you pull at his bow tie and throw it off to the side of the bed. You slowly undo his buttons, your eyes not detouring from his. Once you reach the last button, you tug the white button up shirt up out of his pants and throw it out of the way too, leaving him in just his pants.

“You are so handsome, Spencer. I can’t believe you love me.” You praise, touching his body lightly.

“I should be the one saying that I can’t believe you love me. I’m so lucky.” His eyes were soft as he looked down at you. “Tonight is going to be about you, okay? I’m going to take care of you.”

You nod your head and pull him back down to kiss you. You two could have gladly kissed all night, but it was inevitable that with all of the touching and the clothes coming off that things were going to get hot and heavy.

———————

Oooh take it off for me, for me, for me, for me now, girl I unzip the back to watch it fall While I kiss your neck and shoulders

“Sit on the edge of the bed.” You instruct, rolling off the bed.

Spencer follows your directions happily, sitting right at the edge of the bed and glues his eyes on you as you hook your phone up to the speaker and start a playlist you and Spencer had come up with for sexy time. He couldn’t help but take his cock in his hand and begin to stoke it as you took your hair down out of its bun and let your hair fall down your back and scratch your scalp softly.

You finally walk over to Spencer, putting both of your hands on his thighs and pressing a light kiss to his lips. “You want me to strip for you?” You ask, making soft eyes at him.

Spencer nods his head quickly, licking his lips. His mind was mush, there was no way he could form actual, coherent words. His IQ was no longer 187, he was lucky if it was at 18 at this moment. You two had been a couple for 5 years and it still made him giddy to see you naked.

You smile at him before you turn around, swaying your hips to the beat of the music playing in the back, dropping down low into Spencer’s bare lap and teasing his throbbing cock by slowly grazing over it with your ass.

Spencer had never been more focused on anything in his life as hard as he was focused on your whole body. He watched the way you pushed your hair to one side of your shoulder and turned your head back to look at him as you danced. You were mouthing the words to the song with a sexy smile on your face. Your eyes were soft and innocent, but he could almost see the fire deep in them; the same fire that was in them every time you two got hot and heavy.

Spencer’s hands travel up your back, taking the zipper and pulling it down slowly as you grind against his lap. Once he hits the base of the zipper he slides the top down your chest and stops at your stomach. “Stand up, sweetheart.”

You stand up, your back still turned to him. Spencer helps you slide the dress off your torso and lets it fall and pool at your feet. Immediately his lips ghost against your neck, biting softly at the skin as he travels to your shoulder, his thumb stroking the other side. His hand cups one of your breasts, stroking your nipple to make it hard.

You giggle as his fingers continue to play with your nipple, your eyes fluttering closed. “That feels good.” You hum.

“You know what’ll feel even better?” Spencer whispers in your ear, pressing one more kiss to your cheek. His fingertips drag down your bare stomach, slowly trailing down to your pussy, not yet touching your clit but rubbing the skin just above it.

“Spence.” You whine, melting into his body. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” He responds, sliding his fingers into your folds and massaging your clit slowly.

“Fuck.” You shakily moan, gripping his arm and digging your nails into his skin. “That feels so fucking good.”

“Do you want me to make you cum, pretty girl? You want daddy to make you cum?”

You moan at the bedroom name, nodding your head in response. “Yes. Yes, keep touching me, make me cum, daddy.” You emphasize the name, moaning it out loudly.

“You want to marry me? You love me that much to spend the rest of your life with me? Be my wife?”

You didn’t know where this was coming from, and maybe it was the endorphins swimming around in your head from all the touch, or maybe it was the wine, but the thought sounded nice. “And if I do?” You respond.

“I will propose to you right now, y/n.”

You were in pure ecstasy as Spencer’s pace picked up on your clit, the sound of how wet you were against his fingers filled the room and was beyond obscene. The knot in your stomach tightened as you felt your pussy clench harshly, you were close and Spencer showed no signs of mercy.

“Spence, I’m going to cum.” You whimper, grinding your core against him to get more friction. “I’m going to cum.” You repeat.

“Go ahead, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers.”

With a few more circles around your clit, your body explodes, loud pleasurable moans falling from your mouth as you try to stay up against Spencer. You whine his name repeatedly, incoherently spouting “I love yous” as you come down from your high.

Spencer’s circles around your clit become lighter and more lazy as he feels you relax against him. “That’s my girl.” Spencer coos, kissing your cheek. “On the bed.”

———————-

No don't be afraid to show it off I'll be right here ready to hold you Girl you know you're perfect from Your head down to your heels

You watch as he pumps his cock a few times before throwing your legs up onto his shoulders. You take the shaft of his cock into your hand and rub it against your clit, both of you moaning in unison.

“Spence.” You breathe out, running your free hand up his arm and over his bare chest, running your fingertips down to his stomach. “Baby I love you.”

He drops his head down, kissing your bare skin, holding your hips firmly and worshipping your body. “You are so perfect, sweetheart. Every single inch of you is flawless.” Spencer coos.

“Fuck me, Spencer, please.” You beg, you couldn’t take the teasing anymore, you needed him.

Spencer finally slides into you, taking a minute to gather his thoughts as he feels how soft and wet you were for him. He lays on top of you, thrusting in a staggered pace. He puts his arm under you, holding you close to his chest as he rutt into you harshly, finding a good pace once the clouds dispersed in his brain.

Your hand finds their way to his curls, holding his head close to your neck. The way his breath felt against your skin sent shivers down your spine. And his choked back moans sounded like music to your ears. You wanted this moment to last forever, you wanted to last forever with Spencer.

Spencer sits up onto his knees, not daring to pull out of you as he settles, pushing your legs back against you, gripping your thigh tightly. “You want to be mine?” Spencer asks, his eyes focused on hours.

“I already am yours, Spencer. I’m your girl.” You sputter out.

“You know what I mean, pretty girl.”

“Spencer Reid, I know you’re not proposing to me while you are fucking me.” You tease, giving him a laugh.

Spencer smiles down at you, licking his bottom lip. “No never.” He remarks. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it slowly.

——————

Can you feel it, baby? It's warmin' up Oh, seems like you're ready for more, more, more Let's just kiss 'til we're naked Versace on the floor

Your head rolls back on the pillow as you feel your walls flood around his cock. “Fuck daddy, that feels so… fucking good, please don’t stop.” You plead, taking his free hand and leading it to your throat. Even though you two were having a change of pace with slow romantic sex, you still needed a bit of roughness in the mix.

Spencer’s hand clenches around your throat softly, watching as you open your mouth slightly and gasp at the feeling.

“Harder, it’s okay.” You moan.

Spencer obliges, applying more pressure to your neck and to your clit. You were a mess underneath him, eyes rolled back in your head and loud whimpering moans filling the room along with his skin slapping against yours.

“You’re going to make me cum again.” You pant out, sinking your nails into his thigh. “I want to-fuck-cum on your cock, daddy, I want you to feel it.”

“Yeah, pretty girl, yeah cum on my cock. I love how it feels when you clench around me.”

All it takes is a few more thrusts before you fall apart under him, whimpering as Spencer still was rubbing your now sensitive clit, making you jump at the sensitivity. Spencer lets go of your throat and lightly rubs it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum, sweetheart.” Spencer grunts, feeling how well you clenched around his cock and how sexy his name sounded as you moaned it out. He could feel his own end coming close. His mind raced as he tried to fight his orgasm back, trying to last a little longer for you, but he was too far gone.

You watched as Spencer’s face softened, his eyes screwed shut and his mouth falling open as he ruts into you harder. “Cum in me, daddy please. I want it in me, fuck please.” You beg, wrapping your legs back around him.

Spencer drops his body onto yours, his head settling in between your shoulder and neck, he was just as much a mess as you were moments ago. He kisses your skin again as you feel him spill into you, letting out a throaty grunt.

Both of you lay there, drunk on each other still. You rub his back that was slightly coated in sweat, waiting for him to come back to life.

“Baby, are you alive?” You poke, combing his hair back on his head.

Spencer laughs and picks his head up resting it on your forehead. “I’m good. Are you?”

You kiss his lips and nod your head. “I’m very good. Let’s get cleaned up, we need our cuddles.”

You both head to the bathroom to clean up, Spencer still being very touchy, feely with you as you washed your face after using the bathroom. You stare back at him through the mirror with a smile on your face.

Spencer chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. “What?”

“Ask me.”

Spencer cocks his head to the side, much like a puppy, and gives you a confused look.

“Ask you?”

You nod your head and turn around. “Ask me what you wanted to ask me while we were having sex… unless you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no, no, baby I-I meant it. I was just confused. Just, hold on. Wait here.” Spencer leaves the bathroom and walks back to the bedroom.

You don’t listen to him and follow him out to the bedroom, grabbing a fresh pair of underwear and a big shirt and slipping it on your body.

Spencer pops out of the closet with something in his hand. “I thought I told you to stay?” Cocking his eyebrow at you.

You grin and sit on the bed. “You know I’m not a very good listener.”

Spencer walks over with a smile on his face, sitting on the edge of the bed near you. “I love you with my whole heart, y/n. And I want to be with you for the rest of my life, maybe even longer. You make me the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life, sweetheart. Will you marry me?” Spencer opens the velvet box revealing a ring.

“Wait, did you have this ring the whole time?” You ask.

“I’ve had it for about a month. I’ve been trying to find the right time to do it. But then the case ran so long and I forgot the box here. I didn’t think I would be proposing to you after sex but here we are.” He laughs. “So will you?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You whisper, kissing his lips deeply.

Spencer smiles at you, removing the ring from the box and slipping it on your ring finger. “It looks good.”

“You know, we need to celebrate the fact that we’re engaged.” You smile deviously at him.

“You can go again?” Spencer asks in disbelief.

“Get a girlfriend with a high sex drive, they said.” You say, crawling up into his lap and straddling him. “It’ll be so much fun, they said.” You tease, kissing him again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #criminal minds #spencer reid smut one shot

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iliveiloveiwrite · 3 years

Text

A Truth Universally Acknowledged // Anthony Bridgerton

Request: Hi angel! I love all of your stories, especially your Bridgerton and work! Is there any way you could write something soft and fluffy for Anthony and a female reader! PLEASE AND THANK YOU - Anon.

A/N: I haven’t written for Anthony in what seems like forever! As much as I love Benedict, I do love writing Anthony fics. This isn't overly long, I just wanted to write something soft and fluffy that’s entirely domestic as well. I hope you all like! Title is a quote from the first line of Pride and Prejudice (further quotes from the book are in italics).

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader.

Warnings: none - fluff, books, marriage, happy relationships, cute.

Word Count: 1.6k

The house is silent as Anthony strides through the waiting, open door. He nods his greeting to the Butler, Wilkins, before letting the weariness that had haunted him all day settle over his bones.

“Wilkins?” Anthony asks; no need to voice the question. Wilkins knows.

“Lady Bridgerton is in the Green-and-Gold, sir.”

Anthony smiles at the Butler. “You really do know everything.”

Wilkins smiles; nods his head. “It is my job, sir. Lady Bridgerton has already told me that you will take your final meal of the day in there, too.”

Anthony takes the stairs two at a time; refusing to accept his laboured breathing by the time he reaches the top. He was not an old man yet; he was still a very active man.

Turning left, he wanders blindly to the Green-and-Gold room named for the colour scheme of the walls and the furniture. His late grandmother had decorated the room; so fondly remembered by her ancestors that each refused to change a thing in the room save for any upholstering that needed to be done occasionally.

He finds you sitting on the left hand side of the room; the comfier side as argued by everyone who visits the room. Your legs are curled underneath you as your eyes pour over the page of an open book in your lap. From here, Anthony cannot possibly hazard a guess as to what you might be reading, but he feels a twinge of jealousy at the attention being paid to the book and not to him.

Well, love makes fools of us all, Anthony thinks to himself. “Darling,” Anthony greets in one single breath, as if the sight of you makes it all the easier for him to breathe.

“Darling,” You smile, standing from your seat, coming to greet the man you love with every fibre of your being. “How was your day?”

Anthony groans as he removes his jacket before tugging at the knot of his cravat. “Long,” He complains, struggling with the neckpiece. You smile at your husband, batting his hands away from his neck so you can take over. You feel the heat of his gaze as your hands work to do undo the knot he had tightened with a single tug; as the fabric unravels under your nimble fingers your husband reaches out to squeeze your waist.

“Thank you,” He whispers, voice full with an emotion you can’t quite decipher. Love? Weariness? A combination of both? Anthony looked ragged as you run your eyes over his face.

“I’m sorry that your day has been taxing, my love.”

“It’s all the better now that I’m here with you.”

“Flatterer,” You tease with no real heat behind your words. Anthony beams at you; eyes crinkling in the corners from the force of it as his hands tighten on your waist and his head dips to capture your lips in the kiss he has been thinking about for the better part of his day.

Breaking away, Anthony plants one, two, three kisses to your lips in quick, chaste succession leaving you breathless and highly amused. “How was your day?” He asks, curious as ever to find out what his wife does when he isn’t at home to distract you.

“Dull,” You answer plainly, enjoying the feel of Anthony’s strong arms around you.

“Dull?”

You purse your lips, thinking over your plans for the day so far. “I suppose dull doesn’t work. It hasn’t been dull at all.”

“Oh?”

“I’m only saying it because I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” He murmurs, kissing you once more. “What are you reading?” Anthony asks when he pulls away, spying the book laid delicately on the couch.

“Eloise let me borrow it. She gave me it when I called to see her this morning,” You answer, leaving the comfort of Anthony’s arms to take your seat on the couch.

“Darling, you know we have an entire library full of books, don’t you?”

Fixing him with an unimpressed look, you counter, “Your sister read this and thought of me. The least I could do is read it.”

“Alright,” Anthony sighs, knowing a losing battle when he sees one. “Budge up.”

“Pardon?”

Anthony gestures to the couch. “Make some room for me.”

A puzzled look settles across your face, but you follow the request, nonetheless, shifting on the couch so Anthony has room to sit down.

Anthony settles with his head on your lap; offering you a self-satisfied smile when you raise an eyebrow at him. “Comfy?” You ask, voice laced with humour.

“Very,” He responds. “Will you start from the beginning? I don’t want to miss anything.”

Chuntering about high maintenance husbands, you mark the page you got to before returning to the beginning. “Anything else before I begin?”

“Nothing… Oh, one thing.”

“That is?”

“I love you.”

Any previous ire you felt towards your husband disappears at those three magical words. The frustrated slant to your brow evens out as you reach out to stroke a hand through his hair and down the side of his face.

“I love you too,” You answer earnestly, feeling the power of the emotion running through you.

A peaceful look crosses Anthony’s face as your words sink into his skin like a balm on an open wound. He had felt neglectful lately; not spending as much time at home as he would have liked. He felt bad for leaving you so alone. Without children, you were your own companion throughout the day, and whilst you had both discussed having children, Anthony was to be left mildly vexed at the thought of you spending your days alone until a child was born.

The opening of parliament combined with Anthony’s seat in the House meant that he was spending more and more time in Westminster and less time with you.

A ratio Anthony was not fond of.

“I’m ready when you are,” He whispers; eyes focused on your face so he can watch every reaction and see every syllable leave your mouth.

Flashing an annoyed look at your husband, you take a deep breath and begin:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

“What?” Anthony asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hush,” You admonish half-heartedly before continuing.

“However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.”

“This author is a genius,” Anthony exclaims, his voice awed as he tries to catch a glimpse of the cover to see the author’s name. “Who wrote this?”

“Are you going to comment the whole way through? I’ve barely read two paragraphs.”

“Sorry, darling, but I have to know. Who wrote this?”

“Her name is Jane Austen.”

“Well Jane Austen is a genius. In two paragraphs she’s captured what it is like to be a single man with a fortune in and amongst the sharks with unattached daughters.”

“Sharks?” You ask, highly amused at your husband’s words.

“Mothers,” Anthony shudders, remembering what it was like to go through so many seasons still unmarried. A Viscount with two seats of power combined with a hefty ancestral fortune – many mothers didn’t care whether Anthony would love their daughters; they simply wanted a fortuitus marriage that would leave them set for life.

Anthony thanks any and all gods and deities out there that he found his love match in you. You had taken him by surprise; Anthony had already resigned himself to a season with countless mothers forcing their daughters onto his arm. Until one evening early into the season, he had been listening to Gregory whine about the workload at Eton when his eyes met yours from across the room. In a total state of cliché, Anthony met your gaze, and he knew. He knew that he was going to spend the rest of his life loving you, worshipping you. He knew that whatever his future held, you would be right there weathering it alongside him. In a single glance from across the room, he knew.

You were married before the season finished; a special licence dispensed after a favour from the Archbishop called in. Anthony couldn’t wait; didn’t want to wait – he wanted to start the rest of his life with you as soon as possible.

Your light laughter breaks Anthony out of his reverie. “They aren’t all that bad,” You argue. “I suspect you’ll be worse than me when it comes to our children.”

Anthony snorts; doubting your words but loving the way you speak so openly about your hopeful future family. Clearing your throat, you continue to read on.

Anthony settles further into your lap; letting the calmness of your voice wash over him. After a moment of watching the concentration on your face, Anthony lets his eyes slip closed. He has no intention of falling asleep; he simply wants to enjoy this moment to its fullest.

“Mr Bingley was good looking and gentlemanlike; he had a pleasant countenance, and easy, unaffected manners. His sisters were fine women, with an air of decided fashion. His brother-in-law, Mr Hurst, merely looked the gentleman; but his friend Mr Darcy soon drew the attention of the room by his fine, tall person, handsome features…”

A snore interrupts your rendition of Pride and Prejudice. Pausing mid-sentence, you look down to your lap where Anthony has fallen asleep so peacefully. Smiling softly at the man, you close the book, placing it to one side before running a hand through Anthony’s ever-unruly hair. He hums contentedly, pushing his head further into your hand as you begin to scratch at his scalp.

As you watch Anthony doze dreamily, you feel your eyes lose the fight against the growing tiredness. Your hand stills in Anthony’s hair as you fall asleep alongside your husband, utterly content at the path your life has taken considering it led you to him.

*****

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff @magicalxdaydream @darkestbeforethedawn16 @gryffindors-weasley @spideysz

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagines #Bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagines

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fredshufflepuff · 3 years

Text

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 || 𝐝.𝐦 ✧˖*°࿐

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭’𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐟𝐞��!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭!𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨, 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏,𝟑𝟖𝟔

you groaned lowly to yourself as you rolled around in bed, the cramps in your lower abdomen seeming to increase by the second.

you had just gotten your period earlier this morning and ever since then it’s been hell. you feel and look like shit, not to mention how your body was literally trying to kill you.

your attention was quickly brought to the door as you heard knocks irrupt from it, your eyebrows furrowing and mouth open slightly as you mumbled for them to come in.

the door opened slowly and a certain blonde popped his head in, your heart seeming to speed up as you quickly sat up.

“draco, what’re you doing here?” you asked, trying to wipe off yesterday’s makeup from your face with the back of your hand.

you and draco were never...close in the beginning of the year. but when cormac dumped you and left you heartbroken, a certain slytherin had the bright idea to start a ‘friends with benefits.’

which in the beginning seemed fun, but now it was hell. you would be lying if you said you didn’t like draco—scratch that, love him.

you were head over heels for him, how could you not?

every time you guys would finish...fucking, he’d make sure to clean you up before falling asleep with you in his arms. which at first you thought was normal, but when you talked to draco’s former fuck buddies, you realized it wasn’t.

they said he would never stay after sex, hell—he wouldn’t even let some of them finish. he was rude and blunt during the whole thing and would never even think about cleaning them up.

“y/n,” draco snapped you from your thoughts as you hummed quietly in response, “i said i came to see you.”

“me?” you asked, eyebrows furrowing as he nodded.

the only times draco came to see you was when he wanted to fuck—i mean, that’s all you guys were—‘friends that fucked.’

“why do you seem shocked?” the boy questioned, shutting the door behind him before making his way over to you.

you honestly couldn’t tell if he was in the mood or not, it was always hard to read him. but if he was, you had to tell him now that you weren’t able to...please him.

“because every time you come to see me we end up fucking” you sighed, leaning back into your pillows as a deep shade of red took over your features.

draco seemed hurt by your words—no, he seemed offended. yeah you guys were fuck buddies, but did that mean he couldn’t just come to see you?

“what is that supposed to mean—”

“it means i’m on my period and really don’t feel like having your dick in me.”

his eyes stayed locked on yours as a small scowl took over his face. was he really mad over the fact that you didn’t want to have sex? i mean, you had a good reason.

what you didn’t expect was for draco to turn around and walk through the door, shutting it behind him as you sat there in shock.

was be being serious? you knew draco was a jerk but this? who the fuck does he think he is?

you sat in shock for a good minute or two before rolling to your side, your eyes falling shut as you clutched your pillow close to your chest.

you felt like your insides were about to burst that’s how bad your cramps were. not to mention how much of an asshole draco was to walk out on you like that—

the door suddenly opened making you groan loudly, not even bothering to greet him again as you hid your face into the pillow.

“fuck off, draco.”

“snappy now are we?” the boy said, shutting the door behind him before shuffling towards your bed.

“fuck off” you repeated, sitting yourself up finally and narrowing your eyes at draco—only to let them fall to what was in his hands.

he had a cup of tea in one and a plate of your favorite biscuits in the other, a rolled up towel tucked under his arm and a book under the other.

“w-what—”

“i went to get your favorite things” he said, handing the tea over before setting the biscuits down in front of you.

you felt your chest swell up as you watched him sit across from you, the book he had being your favorite as he placed it to the side.

“is that a towel?” you asked, the boy nodding as he unraveled it to show you.

“it’s heated up by magic, it’s supposed to help with cramps.”

a small frown came to your face as draco helped you place it over your waist, the heat immediately taking over your cramps.

“what’s with the frown?”

you looked up at him before shrugging your shoulders with guilt, “i just feel bad. i thought you were leaving me because i didn’t want to have sex.”

draco looked at you in complete shock, his eyes flashing hurt as he shook his head, “why would i do that?”

“because we’re fuck buddies—” draco seemed to flinch at those words, your frown deepening as you placed your tea on the bed stand.

“what, draco?”

the boy went quiet for a few seconds before sighing deeply, his fingers nervously running through his hair and tugging slightly at the strands.

“are we just—” he paused for a second, gulping deeply before mumbling, “—fuck buddies?”

you stared at him in silence before shrugging your shoulders, deeply confused to what he was implying, “that’s what we are, are we not?”

draco was about to speak but you were quick to cut him off, “i mean, it was your idea, draco.”

“but i regret it.”

he said it so quickly you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly the first time.

he regrets it?

“r-regret it?” you asked, his eyes dropping from yours and breaking contact as he stared at his lap, “regret what? us?”

“no!” he was even quicker to spit his response out, scooting closer to you as his eyebrows furrowed together, “i regret starting off the way we did, i wish we were more.”

“more?”

“more” he said, breathing slowing down as he waited for your response. his heart was practically beating out of his chest, but why was he so nervous?

he was draco malfoy. he got any girl he wanted, but you weren’t any girl. he would feel like shit if he lost you, you weren’t like everyone else.

“draco, are you saying what i think your saying?”

fuck it.

“that i love you?”

you almost choked on your own salvia as your eyes bulged out of your head, “y-you love me?”

“do you feel the same?” draco completely ignored your question, wanting to know immediately if he had fucked up or not.

of course you loved him, and it was painfully obvious he felt the same. everything he did for you was out of love, the way he held you after sex—his body spooning you from behind as he laced his hand with yours.

or when he’d admire you sleeping because you just looked so perfect, despite the mascara stains under your eyes and your messy hair, you were still utterly perfect to draco.

“i love you, draco.”

the boys eyes flashed to yours in a heartbeat, his breathing hitched as he looked for any uncertainty.

a smile took over your face as you scooted closer to him, draco doing the same until your knees were touching.

“i love you too, y/n.”

you’ve dreamed of draco saying those words before, but you weren’t actually expecting him to. quite frankly you weren’t sure if he was capable of showing that type of love—verbally of course.

“so...are we—”

“dating?” he cut off, a small blush appearing on your face as you nodded.

“if that’s what you want.”

“i want that” you smiled, draco’s face coming closer to yours as his nose touched yours, brushing it ever so slightly making you blush deeper.

“good. and don’t worry, i’ll ask you out properly with flowers and gifts later.”

“draco, no—” you whined, your head falling back as he chuckled from in front of you.

you felt his fingers graze your chin before bringing it down, a smirk on his beautiful face as his eyes locked with yours.

“it’s not up for debate, you deserve the world and i plan on giving it to you.”

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🏷 @dracomalfoys-wh0re @fjorelaant @eunoniaa @xlauren-malfoyx @90smalfoy @astoria-malfcy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins @ang9lic @malfoysbiitch @Harrypotter_Whore @aetheralist @miraclesoflove @myloveforluna @bellatrixscurls @dracosbaibe @skaratjung @1800-shutup @wh0re4blaise @riddleswh0r3crux @thatsassyhufflepuff @dreamxnotxfound @drachoesimp @marrymetheonott @elevatorsdoor @pinkandblueblurbs @dlmmdl @letmereadpls @dagirlintheback @onyourgoddamnleft @moonyinthelight @turn-to-page-394-please @samineisntmyname @elizabethrosedarling @authorb @justasmolballofstress @persephonestoad @escapingrealitybyreading @happydazzz123 @adnaweasley @harrysamortentia @funnikusu @fleursbabe @666cookies @sluttylea @fragmentsofmywand @miss-starkov @henqtic @glossygranger @harmqnia @bakugosbunny @teenwolfbitches28 @steveharringtonswhore @reinecoffee

#harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco fic #draco imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n

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slutfor-fictionalmen · 3 years

Text

¥ Pretty boy ¥

Rich! Izuku midoriya x F! Plus size! reader

Hi everyone!!! this is part of @bakugohoex‘s Collab, you should check the rest of the collab and her works out!!! enjoy!!

Izuku comes from a rich family, owns lavish cars and houses upon houses but all he really wants is you. You come from a humble background, refusing wealth but dealing when izuku wants to spoil you. Izu can literally fuck you anywhere because he is that rich; Nsfw, Fluff, public sex(kinda), smut(kinda? dom izu), reader is kinda a cheapskate.

Sorry it’s so bad; I may continue/ revise based on how this is taken!

“Oh, come on, Y/n! It’ll be so fun, I promise! it’s just one trip; you won’t feel like you did last time!” Memories of the past trip flash through the shapely woman's mind: paparazzi, lavish hotels(yes hotels, he wanted a different view every night), thousand dollar meals, designer boutiques, everything that you had avoided in your life as a pro hero was ironical, as it was all tackled at once.

You loved your boyfriend, and you admire his willingness to give, but this was the main reason you gave a lot of your earnings to health organizations and hotlines, you didn’t feel you needed the money, you were doing just fine without it, eating at home, carpooling to save on gas, helping out at your apartment to get a bit taken off of your rent. But Izuku was born into a life of wealth. Heir to the Yagi fortune, but despite his wealth, you wouldn’t know he was wealthy by simply meeting him.

“Oh, don’t patronize me izuku, you know I would hate that trip, I always hate overly expensive trips, I could get the same trip through my booking sites for half the price, and you know that!” You huff leaning over to fold your laundry. Izuku walks behind you, placing his large hands on your hips and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel his pleading look without even looking at him.

“Indulge me, baby. I promise I won’t make it too expensive,” You felt him kiss at your neck, making you sigh until he let out the final part of his argument, a simple,” Please?” You took his hands off your hips and walked away. Izuku sat defeated until he heard you rustle around, cursing as you made a mess of your once clean closet, and came back into the room with a defeated look and a suitcase. “How long are we going for?” Izuku smiled widely and spun you around, his eyes full of love.

----------------time skip to the day of the plans----------------

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror before sighing, regretting agreeing to this trip as you fix your sundress, admiring how the fabric hugs your soft curves perfectly. You knew this vacation would be perfect, that you would love it, but your stubborn mind wanted to fight the potential enjoyment.

Your mouth turned bitter as you internally fought with yourself, going from a fight of stubbornness to a battle against your self-confidence. Your mind picked on everything that wasn’t on your mind before as a deflect of being questioned. Your unpleasant thoughts were interrupted by a certain green-haired man as he walked into the room, stunned at how beautiful you looked in that dress. Distracted by the unmistakable twinkle in his eyes, your thoughts soon disappeared and were replaced with wonder.

“What’re you looking at?” He shook himself out of his trance to approach you with a smile. “Just looking at my beautiful baby girl in that dress, she so horribly fought me on. You look gorgeous, by the way.” His rough hands were felt through the sheer material of the outfit as his thumbs rubbed gentle circles on your wide hips.

You smiled softly and kissed his cheek, looking into his eyes. “Are you ready to go? Cause one more minute, and I may just back out of this.” His eyes go wide as he pulls away and rushes to get everything in the car. Your chuckles are short-lived as he soon comes back and picks you up. “You’re the last thing I need so we can go” you squeak as you remember this man can lift nearly 300 pounds. Why shouldn’t he lift you? Still, every time he lifts you, it comes as a surprise.

He quickly sets you into the car, alarming you with the fact that the driver isn’t any driver at all, it’s one of his close friends, todoroki, and this isn’t even your car; it’s his. “I figured we didn’t need to use the driver and waste money on parking, todo’s gonna drop us off, and I’ll have the driver pick us up after!” Your eyes watered, you knew that the rest of the trip would be extravagant but it was these little things that made you fall in love with him, over and over again. You sat with your hand in his all the way to the airport. You were excited to see new places but dreading the paparazzi.

You stood out of the car, taking in the cool breeze and walking around the car to get to the bags in the back. You bring both of your bags out, along with your carry-ons, and wait for him to finish his conversation with his friend to come to collect his bags. You hear izuku bid him farewell and thank him for the ride before he slips a 20 for gas in his friend’s car and walks to you. “Now don’t be mad...” His eyes shift when he bows his head, preparing to be lectured,” I got first class, and I know you don’t-” You laughed, only calming to rub his shoulder with a smile. “It’s ok! I’ll let it pass.... for now. Now, let’s get our free drink on!”

You’re the first to board, ignoring the dirty looks from the other passengers; you made a vow to enjoy this time.... for izuku’s sake. Your smile didn’t falter, even when the check-in lady gave you a surprising look when you gave her the ticket. You walked onto the plane with confidence; izuku could only say that you looked as if you were born for this… that you belonged here. Your Seats were opened to each other, making a two-bedroom cabin area.

You let izuku walk past you to put your bags to the side and look at the menu. One thing you could never understand is his appetite, he eats more than a group of teenage boys, and he still keeps fit, even if he doesn’t work out. You never found that fair. You shook your head out of the thoughts and sat next to him, searching the tv for a decent channel. You shut off the tv when you saw the news about a new villain, suddenly stressing about the city and what’ll happen if you leave. Your mind flooded with thoughts of the places you love on fire, the people you loved killed and showed as a warning to all the other heroes.

Luckily Deku, who had just finished ordering pretty much the whole menu, sensed your sudden situation and reached over you, pulling the leaver to set your seat back. The sudden movement knocked you out of your daze, causing you to look at the man perched above you with a frustrated look on his face. “You have just been a whirlwind of emotions today, haven’t you? You refuse to calm down; the city will be fine, it’s only a week, and we’re not even going that far!” “but-” “No buts! You don’t want to make me sad, do you?” You sigh, realizing that it was highly improbable for that to happen while you were gone, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. Despite that, you sucked it up, deciding that you might as well enjoy these trips before something happens, after all hero business is very dangerous.

“No Izuku, i don’t” He tilts your chin in order for your eyes to reach his. “Izuku? Really? You know that’s not what i want to hear princess.” You suddenly realize the shift of atmosphere, Izuku’s eyes darkened. “No daddy.” “Good girl.”

He lets his hand drag to the bottom of your dress, pushing up the tinted fabric as he moves his hand to rest on your thigh. Your thighs clench unintentionally when he reaches for the top of your underwear, flinching when he snaps the fabric back onto your skin.

You weren’t used to your soft lover taking the lead, you were the one who took control. You usually calmed your own nerves, with him of course. But you couldn’t think, you couldn't take control, you just had to let him help you, clear your mind and calm you.

You couldn’t help but shiver at the look in his eyes when he’s in control. His eyes darkening,a small glimmer in his eyes is still present but he looks….. Animalistic. You slide your underwear off of your plush form, confidently as he watches you with a ever-growing tent in his pants.

Izuku reached out to your body, holding your soft hip as he moves to slide his form between your thighs. “I don’t think i can be patient much longer beautiful, i may just fuck you like this.” He cups your cheek and uses his thumb to play with your lip, testing how far he can go before sticking his finger in your mouth. You obediently suck on it, watching him bite his lip and shift away to get undressed. “Who says i don’t want you to?”

He quickly takes off his shirt, his scars and freckles littering his tan skin. Izuku's pants are soon to follow allowing his cock to tap his stomach. You always loved how easy it was to get him to get hard, he was always ready for you to fuck him, ready to make love at the mere thought of your full, soft form.

You heard izuku whisper a quick ‘fuck it’ before he grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his hips and grinding softly onto your soft cunt. Your soft moans fueled the burning fire of his. He grabbed his shaft, lining himself up with your weeping hole. He kissed you deeply before pushing into you, his lips muffling your sweet moans.

His cock throbs as he patiently waits for you to adjust to his girth. Your hips ache, already feeling the pressure of your current activities take it’s toll on your body. Your minds begins to flood with need, processing just how close izuku is, how his muscles feel under your finger tips, how he reacts when you experiment with tightening your smooth walls around him. He waits for you to move, slightly wiggling your hips, before he gives into the feeling, whimpering and keeping a steady pace.

You feel his tip brush against your sweet spot with every thrust, unraveling quicker then you would have liked. Izuku’s blush reaches onto his chest as you moan into his ear, teasing him. He speeds up, ramming into your sweet spot, causing that knot in your stomach to tighten before he shifts to rub at your clit sloppily, letting out lewd noises and tipping you over the edge. Your body freezes, a shaking gasp falling from your lips as you arch your back and your walls flutter and tighten around izuku’s dick. He’s soon to follow, spilling his load over your soft stomach before slowly pulling out and flopping onto his bed besides you.

“That’s one great way to start a shitty trip.” You laugh looking over into his forest eyes. Izuku grabs your hand, kissing your palm and giving you a small smile. “Or just a wonderful way to start a potentially amazing trip. You promised you’d let me spoil you this time, so let me use my money to give you comfort. Ok?” You nod, adjusting your seat to be upright again, and lean over to the champagne. The view out the window is something of beauty as the clouds fold into each other and the sky casts a pink, soft hue onto the white canvas.

Izuku grabs himself a glass, leaning his seat all the way back and putting a complementary eye mask on.

“And besides, the more money we pay, the less people will care where we fuck each other.” He was born into this life, born for it. He was used to this and could be for the rest of his full life.

But izuku would do anything just to be by your side. That’s one thing he can’t pay for.

#izuku midoriya x reader #plus size reader #izuku midoriya x plus size reader #plus size!reader #izuku midoriya #mha x reader #mha x chubby reader #bnha imagines #smut #fluff

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deluluass · 3 years

Note

could yoy do please some yandere kuroo and kageyama headcanons? 💕

nsfw is welcomed 😊

My first headcanons 🤞🏽

Yandere! Kuroo Tetsuro

Content warnings: markers of a toxic/emotionally abusive relationship; dumbification; daddy kink; sex toy(s); mild public play/exhibitionism

😇SFW😇

This boy has a fascination for messy people.

And by "messy", I mean that Kuroo has a soft spot for those who put up some sort of front. A performative mask to hide their crumbling psyche.

Oh.

Those are his favorites. (Especially when they're not even aware that they’re hiding something.)

Maybe it's because they're so easy to manipulate? (Or perhaps it's a mild case of schadenfreude?)

It's the instigator in him.

He knows which buttons to push and at what time to exactly do it.

Kuroo lives for being that guy who causes a full blown fight by simply dropping a backhanded comment or two.

For being the final straw that eventually breaks the proverbial camel's back.

And then slipping back into the shadows to watch the Drama unfold.

So it's not unlikely for him to form an obsession for someone who's so emotionally vulnerable.

Someone who has the weight of the world on their shoulders; who has everything locked up inside to the point of bursting.

Because then it won't take much to have them falling apart and unraveling before him.

But he's also a caretaker, you know.

He's opportunistic and covertly callous and mischievous, yes.

But you've seen how much he tends to those close to him.

So when you do fall apart, you will do it in his arms.

He will take care of you.

He'll say everything you've always wanted to hear.

You're beautiful and wanted and loved and you don't have to be brave anymore.

Kuroo's here and he understands you.

From the barest changes in your inflection to your most subtle facial expression.

Other people won't catch it.

To Kuroo, though? Tell-tale signs that you're hiding your feelings again.

He understands you in a way that no else had; that no else cared to try.

And eventually that’ll be the very thing that you’ll hold onto.

Never mind that his every word has become an indisputable fact (when it shouldn’t be).

Never mind that the line between Kuroo just being a mindful boyfriend AND Kuroo disregarding your boundaries has become too blurry that it’s impossible to tell which is which.

Never mind that your entire world has narrowed down to just him and you.

Because all your friends have, one by one, made their way for the exit.

They tell you that they're so tired.

They've warned you- begged you, actually- to end this insidiously suffocating relationship.

"I know he's only been nice to you and to us, but there's just...something wrong about that guy," they say.

But until they pinpoint, exactly, what that "something wrong" is; and until you see it for yourself, you're sticking by his side.

Damn whatever people say.

So.

Kuroo's not the yandere who'd chain you up in his basement or something.

Not that he's above it, but because he doesn't really need to.

Not when he has you bound right where it really matters.

😈NSFW😈

Kuroo has perfected being a dom down to a Science.

He knows exactly when to be mean and hurtful and sweet and kind and giving to you.

Kuroo's very generous, methinks! But only if he believes you deserved it.

So you better prove that you earned it!!

He'll having you cumming and gushing into his hand if you pleaded just enough!!

Looked into his eyes all pouty and teary and pliant to all his wishes.

Very into treating you and talking to you like you're not capable of comprehending words.

Oh, darling. I know I'm hurting you. I know I am. But you like it, don't you? That's right. Fuck yeah, you do, you fucking slut.

That's because you're just a dumb little baby, aren't you? You'd be happy as long as daddy makes you cum?

And you'd nod and say yes so obediently as he pounds your little hole even though you can't hear him over the sound of your own moans.

ALSO!!!

HE IS A TEASE!!!!

A FUCKINGN!!!!!!!!! TEASE!!!!

Every seggsy time is edging time!!

Has a thing for slapping your ass until your cheeks are bruised and tender under his palms.

And for sticking a vibrator inside you while you're out in public.

Just to teach you a lesson whenever he feels like you're not learning enough.

"Do you want me to come back until you're ready?" the waiter droned, obviously suppressing the urge to roll his eyes when all you did was grip the napkin in front of you.

You couldn't even look at poor kid; couldn't even make out a sound. You're too busy stifling the tingling within your walls, prompting you to cross your legs beneath the table and squeeze your thighs together.

And Kuroo's just...scanning the menu. Sitting idly before you. He's resting his chin against his open palm, long fingers brushing under his nose, while you're practically grinding down the chair.

You feel yourself leak into the crotch of your underwear, sticky liquid squelching against the crack of your ass as the toy continued to vibrate, burning you up and melting your insides, the buzzing a white noise only you could hear.

His indifference was unflappable. Kuroo even managed to call out, "Excuse me. Sorry about that earlier. We're ready now," so smoothly despite your desperate attempts to catch his attention. Then, he recited a bunch of dishes that you didn’t have the appetite for. Like you’re not outright writhing and earning a few disconcerted looks from the table next to you.

All you wanted was for him to put an end to this. You've learned your lesson. You're not gonna disappoint him again.

Instead, you watched in agonizing fear as he reached for his pocket. And immediately, without a warning, you felt the toy shake violently inside you.

"Ah!" you cried, sharply folding your arms and legs, making the plates and utensils clink against each other as your wrists chafed against your hard nipples.

Your boyfriend halted, leaned closer, and looked at you in a convincing display of concern.

"Are you alright, babe?" he muttered, caressing your knee, his nails pressing down just a tad. Not too hard. Just enough for you to hiss in a heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

You managed a small, quivering "uh-huh" as you begged him with your eyes. Conveying as much message as you could.

"Daddy, I'll be good for you. I swear. I won't lie anymore. I won't make you angry. I won't do anything that you wouldn't be happy about. Everything I do from this moment on will be just for you, daddy. I promise, daddy-"

But Kuroo only huffed out, a small, faint grin tracing his lips as he turned back to the waiter and said, "One cream pie, please."

Yandere! Kageyama Tobio

Content warning(s): rape/noncon

😇SFW😇

Fourth wall break, if you will: thank you, anon, for putting these characters together because I Believe that they’re each other’s foils in terms of yandere-isms. And this is gonna be an interesting contrast to see (at least, I hope it would be).

So Kuroo’s all subdued mind games, right? Like, you have to do a whole routine of mental gymnastics if you want to dig deep and analyze how he had your head spinning.

But Kageyama?

Kageyama says fuck that.

Kageyama, genius though he is, is about as subtle as a metal bat to the head when it comes to his darling.

He has no qualms about tying you to his bed once the opportunity presents itself to him.

But it didn’t start out like that.

At first, perhaps Kageyama was just an aloof classmate whose entire life revolved around volleyball.

The one who couldn’t even take a time out of his day to hang out with the rest of the class on a weekend.

Though Kageyama has a knack for attracting hostility from other people, there comes a time (rare it may be) that it is offset by people who are sympathetic to his idiosyncrasies.

His darling falls under the latter.

That's what draws Kageyama to you.

Hearing stuff like "D'you know what they used to call him before? King!" and "King because he's an arrogant dickhead who thinks he's better than everyone" are not new to him.

But hearing these are: "Stop that. It's rude to talk behind a person's back."

"Kageyama's passionate about volleyball. More than anyone we've ever met. Ok so it's alienating for us! Whatever! But isn't it admirable that he's doing his best at a thing that he loves?"

Kageyama did not get it.

You're not his teammate.

You're not his..anything.

You had no cause to try and be nice to him and defend him and..understand him, really.

So the rest was history.

The beginning might have been awkward.

Every time he tried to talk to you, Kageyama, for some reason, always blurted out the wrong things.

But you didn't mind. You just liked being his friend.

And Kageyama liked having you by his side.

Kageyama liked it, especially, when you're in the sidelines and cheering him on. (This caused quite a ruckus in Karasuno.)

It should have been weird. Kageyama had not known anything else besides volleyball.

Your presence should’ve been that of a stranger encroaching on someone else’s property.

Somehow, though, you fitted in so perfectly.

Like you’re made to be there.

So he tells you: “You’re free, aren’t you? You should be watching me play by now” and “You should be waiting for me after class” and “Stop making excuses. You’re not tired. You can still drop by practice”

You’ve tried to reason with him. (Even contemplated about ending your friendship.)

But it’s not like you’re ever gonna shake him off.

Besides, you know that he wouldn’t accept anything less than perfect.

😈NSFW😈

His darling was his first sexual experience.

And like any beginner, Kageyama was pretty...uh..bad at it ngl.

Add that to the fact that he’s on the bigger side and your first with him wasn’t consensual.

At that time, all Kageyama knew was that he really, really wanted to touch you and kiss you and fuck you senseless until you acknowledge that there’s no running from him.

Trust, though, that Kageyama will not settle for being bad or, heaven forbid, mediocre at it.

Nope.

Not. a. chance.

Doesn’t matter that you’ve spent the entire day fucking.

Kageyama will not rest- not let you rest, until he drags out a moan from you; until you’ve ruined the sheets with how much he’s made you cum; until he has you begging for more.

Will experiment a lot.

Will test out how fast and hard he has to fuck you to get what kind of reaction he wants from you.

Very attentive even to your quietest gasp.

If you so much as show a sign that you’re finding whatever it is he’s doing to your body pleasurable- curl your toe or arch your back- Kageyama will amp it up to the point where you’re screaming.

He’ll have this haughty, shit-eating grin while doing it too.

“Yes, you can,” Kageyama growled. “Spread those legs and show me how you do it.”

You shook your head, your body protesting at the slight movement. You’re already on the verge of blacking out. And you don’t have to check the ticking wall clock to know that, by now, Kageyama, too, should be knocked out and dozing off beside you.

But he only grabbed your wrists, making you howl in pain as soon as he touched the cuts and bruises across the skin. Remnants of the nylon rope that bound them together not too long ago.

“Touch yourself,” he repeated.

Kageyama’s voice is a rasping noise to your ears, his hot breath causing goosebumps all over you as he pressed his lips against the shell.

“No-no more, Kag-Kageyama,” you forced yourself to say, though your throat was dry and aching from all your screeching.

He clicked his tongue.

You flinched.

And you didn’t think it possible for Kageyama to be more frightening than he already is. Until you’d done as he’d told and, like a wolf patiently waiting to pounce, Kageyama zeroed in on how you moved your hands, his own reaching for his cock.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you, groaning as you trembled and mewled under your featherlight touch. Kageyama stroked himself, grinding into his fist until pre-cum dripped from the head.

“That how you like it, huh,” he croaked.

Before you could even reach an orgasm, Kageyama had already pushed you on your back, mimicking the way you pleasured yourself. Only this time it was rougher, more unforgiving, and indifferent to your cries of “Stop! Stop it, I can’t- Enough, Kageyama!”

#tw non con haikyuu #yandere headcanons #dark content haikyuu #yandere kuroo #yandere kageyama #yandere haikyuu #tw noncon #y/n's gender is not specified

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough.

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him.

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says.

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above.

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt.

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong.

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much.

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start.

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt.

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers.

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.”

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his.

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow.

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #tim i know you read fanfic you can HAVE this one so we can get a recovery arc #i don't even need credit just DO IT #ficcery

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sweetsingingrembrandt · 2 years

Text

the descent from the cross

“searching for the traces that you’ve left behind.”

takemichi. naoto. mikey. draken.

content warning(s): blood mention

—Sweet serendipity. How else could Takemichi describe love after everything he’s been through? Perhaps the thing he yearned for deep down the most was the feeling of belonging and accomplishment, knowing that he had done his part for the world, no matter how trivial it might seem in the grand scheme of things. You’re his reward, a gift from whatever deity watches over him, for the good he so desperately wants to believe he’s done for the reward. Your touches are sweet, and your voice is even sweeter—he wants nothing more than to melt in your arms and cry his worries away.

You wouldn’t know everything he’s been through. There aren’t enough words in the world or years in the universe to truly unravel all the trials he’s leapt through, but knowing that he’s done what he could to protect what he holds most dear is enough. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here with you, his ear pressed against your chest and listening to the never ending cadence of your heartbeat. He’s seen too many timelines where that cadence faded away, so he endeavors with everything he has to make sure this time it stays for as long as it possibly can.

But for now, curled up in your arms with warm tears threatening to spill from his tired eyes, Takemichi is safe. He’s fought so hard this whole time to keep you safe, even if you might have no clue that he’s been struggling like a fish caught in the maw of a shark, but he’s sure that somewhere in the recesses of your soul, you know that he’s done everything he could do for you.

Would he do it again, if you needed saving once more? Absolutely. Again and again and again, until he finally reaches the happy ending that he’s been chasing after for so long, resetting until perhaps cruel Fate acknowledges his most sincere efforts.

—Naoto feels as if he’s always existed as the foil to someone else’s protagonist. No matter how violently the trajectory of his life changes, no matter what efforts he pours into scouring through the metaphorical dirt of Japan, no matter how many times the guilt chews him up alive to know that he’s failed yet again, he keeps lifting his head and pushing through. Because he won’t allow the curtain of his show to fall just yet, he wants the divine audience to curb the sickening sound of their applause for a bit longer.

Surely, you understand, don’t you? You’re the one who rubs the sleepiness from his eyes whenever he’s slumped over his desk late at night. You’re the one who places their hand on his leg while he rifles over files once, twice, thrice, in hopes that he might discover something new he hadn’t seen the previous times he had scoured through his intel. You’re the one who gets him, even though you might not fully comprehend the depth of his conviction.

He won’t ever ask for much from you. All he asks is that you continue to stand by his side, to anchor him somewhere while he unfurls his sails and searches on to find the truth he desires so badly. He won’t ever ask you to stain your hands—no, you’re far too precious for him to put you on the line: not when he’s already lost so much—but he’ll ask you to kiss away the figurative blood that drips from his fingertips so he can protect you.

That’s his promise to you. He’ll love you, as ardently and as loyally as he can bring himself to, regardless of the timeline. Whether he’s the one saving you or convicting you doesn’t matter, his heart burns with the same fire that he knows he felt the first time he met you before time warped forever, and he prays that your love burns just as brightly as his.

—The king of the hill himself: Mikey. Mikey loves unconditionally but not uncontrollably. He’s suffered so much loss, horror flooding his normally bright eyes when he futilely watches those he cherishes more be plucked away from him like wilting cherry blossoms. Love, to him, is every bit a strength as it is a weakness: the very principle that lifts him up to lead his beloved gang and at the same time, the very principle that causes him to mourn every individual loss as if it were an injury on himself personally. Why else would each and every one of his timelines change so dramatically? It’s because his heart is the key to his future—from salvation to condemnation and everything in between.

He loves you as he would love anyone else. That’s simply the sort of person he is. He holds everyone dear to his heart, and he’ll always greet you with a grin and a quick kiss to your cheek, as if to reassure you that you’ll have a special place by his side. There’s something about being with you that reminds him of how good the world can be. You’re his little sparkling light in the sea of darkness, and despite how difficult everything is, Mikey wants you to smile and continue shining for him. That way, even if he gets lost in the thickest of waves, he’ll muster up the courage and the strength to swim towards you, until you embrace him with your light and tell him everything will be alright.

Mikey has a lot of the line, but his love is the one thing he wants to believe will never be severed. Even if people manipulate him, destroy him, ridicule him, he holds that benevolent heart to him close all the same; frankly speaking, it’s all he can do sometimes. So please, hold him tight and give him the tears that he can’t bring himself to cry, and remind him that love is always something worth fighting for.

—In more ways than one, Draken has been the sacrificial lamb for everyone else. He comprehends and empathizes with the world in a way that nobody else in Toman does, using his foresight to watch out for those he holds dear while also staying as true to his ideals as he can. He wants to see a future where he’ll have succeeded, even if he’s already defying the world as it exists simply by being alive. But what is defiance to him? He’s defied everything and everyone that had betted against from the moment he made his debut into this merciless world.

Maybe that’s why he’s so drawn to you. There’s an empathy to you, one that doesn’t cower away from him in fear like so many others have done. You extend your hand to him, your soft innocent hand that has never tasted the sadism of the life he’s led, as an equal and as a partner. You’re different from those who have tried to crush him or even worse, those that pity him. Because Draken detests pity, especially when he’s done so much—literally fighting tooth and nail—to uphold the drive that keeps him going day after day.

He reveres you. Draken constantly keeps an eye out for you, making sure you don’t get swept up with the bloodshed of his affairs and that you only see the side of him that’s fitting for your eyes. He holds no doubt that you’d still hug him and tell him you’re proud no matter how dirtied or monstrous he might seem to society, but he wants to be someone who’s worthy of taking such an important place in your life.

You’ll wait for him. You always do, so he’ll come meet you where you are shortly and prove himself to you.

#tokyo revengers #tokrev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokrev x reader #hanagaki takemichi #tachibana naoto #sano manjiro #mikey #ryuguji ken #draken #x reader #gender neutral reader

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