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crypticreid · 7 months

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KINKTOBER DAY FOUR

October 13 -- Virginity

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author's note: happy friday the 13th!! this is a behemoth, but it feels right to celebrate this day with a little bit of fireworks lol!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, I might do more of those throughout the month. thank you for reading and let me know if you want to be tagged! (also, because this took me so long, it isn't as tightly edited as my other work)

summary: To be completely honest, you're struggling a little bit with you new job at the BAU. Spencer is there to help. Oh, and maybe he can help you with a few other things too.

warnings: female reader, losing virginity, fingering, oral (female receiving), grinding, discussion about masturbation and mention of sex toys

word count: 6.9k (sorry? lol)

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Morgan smiles up at you from his desk as you scramble into the bullpen. Garcia is leaning against his desk as she raises her eyebrows. You toss your go bag under your own desk and push your hair out of your face, trying to ignore the pair.

“Rough night?” Morgan giggles, as he pushes the pencil he’s holding through his circled fingers suggestively. Garcia guffaws, but at least has the decency to playfully hit Morgan on the shoulder.

“Can you two behave for like five minutes?” You groan and try to find your ID badge. You literally just had it to get into the BAU department, but now it has mysteriously disappeared. It isn’t on your desk or in any of your pockets, but you do find a couple crumpled up dollar bills that you toss onto your desk without thinking.

The appearance of the bills causes Morgan to whistle. Emily walks over and sees the offending currency. “Damn, invite me next time!” She laughs.

You roll your eyes and don’t reply. Instead, you pull up your go bag and start to empty it. Maybe you accidentally put your badge in one of the pockets, you rationalize.

“What is going on?” JJ asks with a small laugh, gesturing to the contents of your go bag now completely strewn across the desk. Clothing and toiletries clutter the surface and you know you look like a crazy person. And maybe you are crazy. No, you definitely are crazy. Anyone who does this job is absolutely batshit crazy.

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them away. You are absolutely not going to have a mental breakdown at eight in the morning in the bullpen, and definitely not in front of fucking Derek Morgan. “I can’t find my badge.” You mutter and drop down to your knees to look under your chair and desk.

You palm the dirty floor, but don’t find anything. Your friends stifle their laughter. “I would help you but this is not a crawl around on the floor kind of dress.” Penelope offers.

“Gee, thanks.” You say to yourself.

“Hey, has anyone seen –” Spencer stops in both his tracks and his sentence when he notices you on the floor. He swallows. “I found your ID badge. Over by the door. I think you dropped it.”

“Wonder boy saves the day!” Morgan exclaims.

Spencer finishes his trek over to you and offers a hand to help you up. You glance up at him, blushing slightly at the angle. Who would’ve thought you’d be on your knees in front of Dr. Reid? Okay, you’ve definitely thought about it, but your imagination didn’t normally make it happen inside Quantico and it absolutely never in front of your coworkers.

“Sorry, my hands are kind of dirty. Uh, from the floor.” You confess and take his hand as you stand up. His hand is warm and soft, like really soft. Like you could easily fall asleep to him rubbing your back in mindless patterns. As soon as you’re on your feet you slip your hand out of his to avoid your mind adding more ammunition to your middle of the night imaginations about Spencer.

“It’s okay.”

“Thanks. For the badge… and –” you take the badge from his other hand and gesture meaninglessly between the two of you.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles at you and you feel yourself redden deeper.

“Alright, alright! Time for kiss and tell!” Penelope exclaims and you blink away from your eye contact with Reid.

“What?” You whip your head around to her.

Emily makes kissing noises and musses her hair. “You. And some mystery person. Last night. Clearly.”

You turn toward her. “No. I wasn’t…” you start, your eyes flick over to Spencer as he walks toward his desk. “There’s no one.”

JJ leans on your desk and raises her brows. “Then what were you doing last night?”

You could not tell them the truth, but it was also impossible to lie to the best profilers in the country, so you give them a half truth. “Nothing. I just had a bad night.” You shrug and start to put your clothing back in your go bag, not bothering to fold it.

The truth is that it had been a bad night because you were struggling with the job. You’d been hired ten months ago and the lack of sleep, the neverending cases, and having to constantly deal with the horrific things humans can do to one another was taking its toll on you. Yesterday had been a day off and you wanted to use it to catch up on sleep, but everytime you closed your eyes, the faces of the people you couldn’t save filtered in. You hadn’t been able to get a good night’s sleep since you started and it had caused a complete breakdown last night. You had pulled up Hotch’s contact information four times ready to quit, but you knew you couldn’t do it. You were here for a reason, you’d stick it out.

Penelope hums. “Well, if it wasn’t a person… then it must’ve been alcohol.”

“Or gambling.” Emily adds.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t gamble.”

“You should. It’s a lot of fun. I’ll play you in Blackjack.” Emily smiles.

“Don’t play with her, she counts cards.” Reid murmurs absentmindedly as he reads over a file at his desk.

“I do not!”

Everyone laughs, but then the laughter dies away when Hotch comes out of his office. “Looks like no one gets to have fun for a couple of days.” Emily groans.

On the flight home after the case, you’re seated across from Spencer. Everyone else is asleep or has headphones in, even Hotch is passed out on the couch, which is rare. You still can’t sleep, so you stare out the window into the darkness as you fly over Virgina. Spencer clears his throat and you roll your head to look at him.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You allow a small smile to form on your lips. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He swallows and puts the book in his hand down in his lap as he leans forward slightly. “I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but you don’t really seem like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”

The sore achy feeling of wanting to cry but holding it in burns your throat. You cough softly. “I’m okay, really. Just – having trouble sleeping.” You give just a little bit of information, hoping it assuages his curiosity.

“Is it that mystery person keeping you up at night?” He asks point-blankly.

Your mouth is agape and you snap it shut, “did you just make a joke?”

“I tried to.” He smiles and you match his smile with your own.

“There really isn’t anyone.” You shake your head. “I’ve never –” you almost let the rest of the sentence slip out, but stop yourself just in time. The lack of sleep is obviously affecting you more than you thought.

“You’ve never what?” The way he moves his body forward in his seat makes your heart thrum in your chest. His body language is clear, even a rookie behavioral analyst could tell, he was prepared to listen to what you have to say. Not only that, but he actually cared.

You bite the inside of your cheek before letting out a sigh. Before you answer, you lean closer toward him, “I’ve never had sex, actually.”

His eyes widen and he clears his throat, “you’re a –”

“Virgin,” you finish for him. “I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by it. And it isn’t like I’m saving it or anything. It just hasn’t happened yet.” You shrug. “In all honesty, part of me just wants to pick some random person and get it over with.” You let out a small breathy laugh in an attempt to make you feel less awkward.

“Why haven’t you?” You meet his eyes. “I mean, just found a random person to get it over with?”

One of your shoulders lifts in a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know. Like when I think about it, I realize that I’d rather have someone I trust, you know. Someone who would take care of me and not just see me as another notch on their bedpost. At least for the first time. And then after that, I’d feel more comfortable just going out and… you know.”

“Notching up some bed posts.” He nods knowingly and you giggle. He smiles, you notice that he enjoys making you laugh. A lot of the time it seems like people are maybe laughing at him or about him, but not you. He’s never the butt of the joke for you.

“Sure, Spencer.” You can’t help, but trail your eyes over him and contemplate the question that’s on the tip of your tongue. “How did you lose your virginity?”

He doesn’t seem offended or shocked by your question. “In college.”

You scoff, “weren’t you like twelve?”

“During my undergrad, yes. But I have multiple PhDs.”

“Of course, Doctor Reid.”

He shifts in his seat. “I was twenty. She was, uh, we worked in the same lab. And had the same research advisor.”

“So you two experimented on each other.” You joked.

Spencer’s face flushed and you felt a pang deep in your stomach. “In a way, yes.”

“I’m joking, Spencer.” He nods in understanding. “Were you like her boyfriend?”

“No, we just –”

“Hooked up.” You finish for him.

“For a couple months, yeah.”

Your mouth drops and you whisper, “you had a fuck buddy?”

His blush deepens. “I don’t think we ever called each other that.”

“What did you call her?”

“I don’t know. We never talked about it. I finished my doctoral thesis before her.” He shrugs.

“Wow, who knew.”

“What?”

“Morgan isn’t the only playa on the team.” You giggle and scrunch your nose, feeling the stress of the last few weeks dissipate from your shoulders.

“I’m not…” he laughs and shakes his head. He glances out the window. “We’re landing soon.” He swallows and leans back in his seat. It was terrible, but you had a strong urge to step across to his seat and straddle his lap and kiss him until you were both breathless. You turn your gaze back to the window and try to force the image away.

Your car wouldn’t start. You forcefully turned the key in the ignition again, and it sputtered and died. As you hit your steering wheel, you let out a frustrated noise and hit it again. You turn to grab your cell phone from your bag to call a tow truck and jump when you hear a knock on your driver’s side window. Spencer stands there apologetically, waving his hand with his closed mouth smile.

He steps aside when you open the car door and get out. “Is everything okay?”

“No.” You laugh bitterly. “My car won’t start and I need to get a tow.” You bite your lip, but can’t stop the tears that bubble over.

Spencer freezes, but then reaches out and touches your shoulder lightly. “It’s okay.” For some reason his comfort makes you cry harder. “Oh, uh, here,” he mutters and pulls you into a full hug. He squeezes you tight against him and rubs your back as you cry into his chest.

“I’m sorry, Spencer.” You blubber into his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“Is it?” You pull away from his chest to look in his eyes. “I’m failing at this job and –”

“Woah, failing at this job?” He interrupts. “Who said that?” His brows furrow angrily.

“No one.” You blink away the tears stuck in your eyelashes and Spencer reaches up and swipes away one that trails down your cheek.

“You’re not failing. You’re excelling. You’re incredible. Truly, I mean that. I wouldn’t lie to you. I promise.” He swallows and you realize how close to his face you are, his hands wrapped around your back.

You don’t stop yourself, even though you know you should, as you lean into him. His eyes flutter down to your lips, but he doesn’t pull away, so you keep going. Your lips touch his lightly, barely there before you back away.

His hands tighten on you and pull you closer to him. He chases your lips with his and kisses you back, your own hands are on his chest and they twist into his shirt. You kiss him fervently, his hands traveling to your lower back, arching you into him. A moan escapes from the back of your throat and it breaks the spell. Spencer pulls away from the kiss.

His lips are pink and shimmery and you want to kiss him again. Desperately. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his tongue slipping out and swiping across his bottom lip.

“What for?” You blink.

“Kissing you.”

“I kissed you.”

“I kissed you back.”

“And you should do it again.”

His eyes dart to your lips. He wants to, you can tell, but he stops himself. “We shouldn’t.”

“Not here, at least.” You glance behind him and pray that the parking garage is completely empty. If your coworkers acted the way they did this morning about a nonexistent mystery person, you can only imagine their reactions if they saw you making out with Spencer.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“I don’t care.”

“There’s paperwork.”

“Not if we don’t tell anyone.”

“That’s not how that works.” He laughs, you can feel the vibrations of the sound against his chest.

“Do you always play by the rules, Dr. Reid?”

He swallows harshly, you watch the movement of his Adam’s apple bob against the tight skin of his neck. “I’ll drive you home.” He deflects.

You reach up on your toes and kiss him again. His hands spread on your back and press you against him and your hands pull him tighter to you, wrinkling his shirt. You hear footsteps and both of you step away from each other instantly, putting distance between your bodies. You turn your head to see a person you don’t recognize come into view from the other side of the parking garage. They don’t even glance in your direction. The hammering in your chest slows and you turn back to Spencer. He runs a hand through his hair.

“Grab your bag.” He says with an authority that makes you spring into action quickly. Neither of you say anything as you follow him down the rows of agents’ cars to his car. He opens the passenger side for you, the vintage car creaks in protest. He closes the door and you watch from the rearview mirror as he walks around the back of the car toward the driver’s side, his hands in his pocket.

He slides into the car seat and starts the car, it rumbles to life loudly. “I normally don’t even drive to work, just take public transportation. But I had an errand the other day.” He explains absentmindedly as he checks the rearview mirror and slowly backs out of the park spot.

“It’s kismet.”

“I always thought it was interesting that the English pilfered that word from the Turkish language. Considering words like fate and destiny already existed. Some etymologists attribute it to the rampant orientalism at the time. You know, like kismet was more mysterious or mystical or exciting than just simple fate.” He rambles and drives you out of the parking garage. A heady want begins to grow in your lower stomach. “And of course, the Turkish developed the word from an Arabic word meaning portion or lot. Which is fascinating.”

“It is.” You say earnestly.

He glances over at you sheepishly. “Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble.”

“Don’t apologize. I like it.”

His eyes are already back on the road, but you can see his cheeks redden in a slight blush. “Where do you live?” He asks and you tell him. It isn’t a long drive, well it isn’t this late at night. Your morning commute is a nightmare. He gives you a brief look, “why did you join the BAU?”

You exhale a long breath before you answer. “I wanted to help people I guess. Which is so cliche, but it’s the truth. Like it isn’t even about putting bad guys away or whatever. I just want to make the world safer. For everyone.” You look over at him and he meets your gaze for a split second.

“You are doing a good job.” He states. You shake your head. “I mean it. You are. You’re making a difference. You’re helping people.”

“But how do you keep your head above water? I mean… how do you not let it beat you down?”

“We have each other. And you focus on the good.”

You sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, letting his words sink in. “Thanks, Spencer. For everything today.”

He pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. “I’ll walk you up.”

You go to unbuckle your seatbelt, but it doesn’t budge. You try again, but again, nothing.

“Oh, sometimes it sticks. Here,” he leans across the middle and reaches for your seatbelt buckle. His fingers graze the outside of your thigh and inhale sharply, electricity buzzing from the simplest of touches. He unbuckles you and you let the seat belt slide across your body, he doesn’t move away from you. He’s close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin, it enflames you.

“Spencer,” you whisper and turn your head toward him. His eyes slowly trail down your face toward your lips and then back up to your eyes. You can’t take it, so you lean forward and kiss him again. Tentative at first, waiting for him to respond. He does, his hands pulling your face closer to his, deepening the kiss. When you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip you open for him, let him explore and learn. You sigh into his mouth, your hands find their way to the back of his neck.

He slips away from you, breathless, but starts to kiss down your jaw. He mutters your name against your skin. You feel the warmth of his kisses travel down your spine toward your core.

“Come upstairs.” You sigh, when he bites lightly on a sensitive spot on your neck.

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.” He pants against your skin.

“I want you.”

He groans, deep and frustrated, and moves to lean his forehead against yours, both of your heavy breathing intermingling and becoming one. “You shouldn’t want me.”

“Why not? And don’t say the bullshit about us working together. I don’t care, Spencer. I trust you. I want you.”

He backs his head away from your forehead so that he can look into your eyes, his thumb against your cheek brushes back and forth. “You trust me?”

“With everything in me.” He kisses you again, softly, tenderly.

“I’ll take care of you.”

“I know.” You kiss him back and then pull away. He nods and you return it with a nod of your own.

His tongue glides across his lip and he swallows. You blink and he’s moving out of his seat and already at the passenger side door before you can reach for the handle. He opens it quickly and helps you out. It’s old school, but it makes your heart stutter and start. When he takes your hand in his, it feels like two magnets being drawn together. He slams the car door shut and you lead him up to your apartment.

Once you unlock your front door and guide him in, you shut the door and turn to look at him. You flick on the light. He stares at you and asks, “you’re sure?”

“Positive.” You step toward him and reach out to slide your hands across his stomach and then land on his waist. “Do I have to kiss you first again, or –” you don’t have to finish your question before his lips are on yours. His kisses are not tentative or searching, they’re needy and impassioned. Before long, you’re clawing at his shirt, untucking it from his pants and then reaching up to undo his tie.

He stops you as he breathes laboriously. “Wait, we should slow down.”

You continue to work on his tie, perpetually crooked, but now just an obstacle to what you need desperately. “I don’t wanna go slow.”

He moans and you finally get his tie undone and whip it off. “No, we should.”

Your fingers work deftly against his buttons, one at a time, and you look up at him. “I’m a virgin, but I’m not inexperienced. I’m not a delicate flower.”

His expression changes, his eyes grow heavy and he quirks his jaw. “Not inexperienced?”

“I’m not.” You almost sound like a petulant teenager.

“How far?”

“What?”

“How far have you gotten?” Your hands stop almost halfway through the third to last button. You don’t answer. His voice deepens, gravely and sexy, “you’ve clearly kissed before.” You nod. “Have you had someone feel your breasts?” As he asks the question, his hand reaches up and caresses your breast. You lean into the touch. “Has anyone put their mouth on your breasts, marking you as theirs? Rolling your nipple between their teeth?” He inclines his head into the crook of your neck and presses a hot kiss there. “Have you ever had somebody's mouth on your clit?”

Your breathing is sharp and jagged, but Spencer simply continues. “Would you let someone use their tongue to make you come? Or maybe even their fingers? Pump their fingers into until you're squirming?”

“Spencer,” you plead.

He continues to massage your breast as his other hand slips under your shirt and trails across your hips and stomach. “Or do you just mean that you’ve touched yourself? You’ve laid in bed and explored this beautiful body. Know just exactly how to make yourself shiver from your own fingers.”

You’re almost overwhelmed by his touch, his lips on your skin, and his words, your head is spinning, but you’re also desperate for more.

“We’re going to take it slow.” He informs you and it isn’t up for discussion. “Not because I think you’re a delicate flower.” He throws your own words back at you. “But because I want to take my time with you. I want to learn everything about your body. I want to touch every single inch of you with my hands. I want to make you come, I want to feel you come. Over and over again.” You’re practically shaking in his hands when his lips and teeth scrap across your jaw and to your lips. He takes them with his and you’re like clay on a potter’s wheel, malleable and completely at his will, waiting to be crafted into his masterpiece.

“Do you want that?” He breathes on your lips.

You somehow know instinctively that he wants a verbal confirmation, so you answer, “yes.”

He continues to kiss you, deeply, almost like a starved man tasting his first bit of sustenance. You answer with your own fervency. His hand at your hip squeezes and pulls you tight against him and you feel his want against you. It makes you moan. You grind your body against him and his grip tights even more.

“Bedroom. Where’s your bedroom?” He stutters, but doesn’t stop kissing you and you don’t stop either. Your hands are in his hair, pulling and twisting, holding him impossibly close to you. You didn’t know kissing could make you feel this way, simultaneously feverish and desperate, but also insatiable. You felt like you could kiss Spencer for a lifetime and never tire of it. He wasn’t close enough even though your bodies were pressed together, you needed more. The only thought in your brain is simply, more, more, more.

He pulls away from you, both of you taking heaving breaths. His lips were perfectly pink, your body thrummed with the knowledge that you caused such a change in him.

“Bedroom.” The single word went straight to your core. You take his hand and guide him to your bedroom.

Once you turn on the light, he’s behind you, pressing into you. You can feel every part of him, and he kisses the back of your neck. He’s back to being soft and gentle. He brings his hands to your stomach and inches them under your shirt until he has your breasts in his hands.

Your breasts feel heavy and logically you know why. Blood has rushed to them, just as it has rushed to your other erogenous zones, and it is sending a signal to your brain to release oxytocin. But you’re realizing that logic has no place in your head when Spencer’s hands and mouth are on you. Logic means nothing to you at this moment.

“You’re so beautiful.” He compliments as he fondles your breasts, your head lolls back against his chest. He angles his head so he can kiss your cheek. “You distracted me that very first case you were on. Did you know that?”

“No,” your eyes flutter shut when he moves down to kiss your jaw.

“I thought you were so gorgeous. After the case, I went home to my apartment and touched myself as I imagined you. I felt so ashamed, I couldn’t even look you in the eyes the next morning.”

Your mind wanders back to all those months ago. “I thought I had done something wrong,” you remember.

“No, it was me. I was wrong. But I couldn’t stop. I mean you can feel what you do to me.” He was right, you could distinctly feel the effect you had on him.

“I thought of you too.” You confess.

“You did?” His voice is low and breathy and you nod. “In that bed.” He ticks his head to gesture toward it. “Tell me.”

You feel yourself heat with blush. His thumbs brush across your nipples through your bra and your breath gets caught in your throat. You swallow and answer. “I would lie there, normally because I couldn’t sleep. And then I’d think about you. Your hands, I’d think about your hands.”

“My hands?” He squeezes your breasts.

You nod and answer simultaneously, “yes. I’d imagine them on my body, touching me.” He brushes your nipples again and you shiver. “And I’d slip my hand into my underwear, and rub my clit. Pretend it was you.” His hands abandon your breasts and slide around to your back. You step forward as he takes off your shirt and then unhooks your bra and helps you out of it. His hands on your hips turn you to face him.

“I knew you were beautiful. But you’re perfect.” Your instinct is to feel self conscious under his gaze, but you push it away when you notice the admiration in his eyes.

You reach for him and finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and then peeling it off of him. “Fair is fair.” You say. He laughs, but his laugh dies in his throat when your nails scratch down his chest.

Your hands explore his exposed chest and back, feeling the muscle move underneath soft skin, and he works to rid you of your pants. You use him for balance as you step out of your pants, but as soon as you're standing on two feet again, he backs you toward your bed.

When the back of your legs hit the bed, you allow yourself to fall back onto it. He leans over you, your legs open for him and he kisses you again. Your hands continue their previous tour of his back, now feeling how his shoulder blades move when he grinds against you.

The first time he does it, you throw your head back in a moan. Even though you have multiple layers of fabric between you, you can still feel the heat radiating through you. He does it again and you arch up to meet his movement. When he does it a third time your nails scratch down his back.

He makes a low noise from the back of his throat and you know that your panties are soaked. His lips take a journey down your body, kissing and nipping at your clavicle, your chest, spending a significant amount of time on both of your breasts, and down your stomach. Your clawing at his back by the time his mouth meets the band of your underwear.

“Look at you,” he whispers. His thumb rubs lightly at your clit over the fabric. Your thighs clench and he laughs. “Keep them open for me, baby.” You mewl at the pet name. “You like that? Being called baby?”

“Yes.” You groan out when his thumb repeats his earlier action.

He does it again, almost unbearably slow. “I want to taste you so bad. I’ve wanted to know how good you taste for so long.” His voice is strained.

“You can. I want you to.”

His hands skate up to the hem of your underwear and you lift your hips slightly as he pulls them down. You open your legs for him again and he swallows. “Stunning.” His mouth is on you before you have time to process the word.

Almost instantly, he moans against you, the vibrations causing your toes to curl. Your hands clench your duvet and he pulls away for a split second, “touch me.” You do what he asks, coiling your fingers into his hair. He laps at your clit, creating a pattern and rhythm that makes your buck up to meet him. His hands grip at your hips and hold you in place.

“Spencer, oh fuck,” you ramble. He answers by moaning against you again and then sucking your clit into his lips. You bite down a scream. The heat at the base of your spine spreads across your body. “Oh my god. Oh god.”

He alternates between lapping and sucking at your sensitive bud, your nails practically digging into his scalp, your toes curling, as you try to catch your breath. Just at the moment where it feels like too much, your body clenches and crashes over the edge of your ecstacy, his name falling from your lips repeatedly.

He continues to lap at you softly until your muscles relax in his arms and then he looks up at you, smiling and his lips glistening, “you’re incredible.” You pull him up, so that you can kiss him. You kiss the taste of you off his lips. He brings his head up to look at you, pushes away the stray hairs stuck to your forehead. “Are you going to get sick of me calling you beautiful?” He smiles.

“No, I don’t think I could.” He smiles into another kiss. His hands travel down your body and as soon as one of his fingers slides across your folds, the flames reignite.

“Is this okay?” He asks. “I want all of you.” One of his fingers slips inside of you and then he pulls it out. He slides it back in and then repeats his action, starting slow and building up to a comfortable tempo, as he continues to kiss you. Nothing about his movements is frantic, but rather languid and relaxed, gently stoking the growing fire inside of you. You grind your hips against his finger and he smoothly adds a second finger. The feeling is different, but not bad as you feel yourself accommodating the extra digit.

“Alright?” He checks in with you, looking into your eyes.

“It feels good.” It’s not like the times you’ve laid here in this bed with your fingers inside you. It’s an entirely divergent sensation that you don’t think your imagination would have been able to conjure. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He stops sliding his fingers in and out and instead leaves them inside as he pumps them, almost as if he’s searching. He finds what he’s looking for when you gasp and cling to his shoulder.

“Yeah.” You nod furiously, biting down on your lip. He’s no longer building the tension within you. Instead, it’s like he’s playing with a taut rubber band, waiting for it to snap.

You feel your eyes start to close, wanting to roll to the back of your head. “Keep your eyes on me, baby. I want to see. Want to see you come apart for me.”

You force your eyes open. “Spencer…”

“I know, relax into it.” His thumb starts to rub your clit. “You’re doing so good.”

“Oh my god,” you start to mutter and ramble again, a mixture of curses and Spencer’s name. You never break eye contact with him. It’s intense, but also intimate.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

You let out a whine in answer and feel a muscle in your thigh twitch. Your core clenching on his fingers, the wet sounds of his fingers inside of you filling the room. The grip on his shoulders is tight and you hope it isn’t painful, but he barely seems to notice, all of his attention is on you. The mixture of admiration and lust on his features is almost too much. But you’re realizing that Spencer Reid never does anything part way or half-assed. Once Spencer puts his mind to something, he’s going to accomplish it. Not only that, but he’s going to put an almost Herculean effort into it. And somehow, you’ve become something he’s put his mind to. The thought makes you lean up and kiss him.

You kiss him until a gasp separates your lips from him. “So perfect,” he muses. Your core constricts and contracts on his fingers. Your breathing is short and your legs feel like they’re shaking, but you can’t really tell. “Come for me.”

One more shaky breath and then you do, the rubber band snaps. Your body arcs up into him and he swallows your shout with his lips, kissing you deeply. Again, he slows down but doesn’t stop, guiding you down from your high. When he does pull his fingers from you, you watch as he brings them to his mouth and sucks them clean.

This time you don’t need him to rekindle the flame of need inside of you, it's already there. You reach between your bodies for his belt. Together, the two of you make quick work of the last of his clothing. And then he’s kissing you again, both his hands and your own caress, rub, and grab at each other. You reach down lower and lower, until you meet his hardened length with your hand. You grip the base and he falters.

“I’d love that. Really, I want it so bad. But I won’t last, baby.” You squeeze him again and smile up at him, fluttering your eyelashes. “You’re a vixen.” He laughs, kissing you.

“I want you.”

“Fuck. I don’t have a condom.” You blink, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard Spencer drop the f-bomb. You giggle.

“I have some.” One of his eyebrows raises in question and you shrug. “I like to be prepared. They’re over there.” You gesture toward your nightstand and he stretches over to open it.

“Oh,” he lets out a surprised gasp and just then you remember what else is in your top drawer. “I guess you don’t just use your fingers to masturbate, do you?” He laughs.

You reach up behind you and grab a pillow and toss it at him. He dodges it and it falls to the floor. “Like I said, I’m a virgin, not inexperienced.”

Spencer grabs the box of unopened condoms, opens it and pulls one out. He carefully places the box back, his eyes lingering on your menagerie of sex toys.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“I have an eidetic memory. I’m remembering… for later.” He smiles and you feel your heart speed up, pounding against your ribcage. You hadn’t had time to discuss anything past tonight. His smile falters. “I mean – I don’t mean to presume anything. Only if you want.”

You reach over to him and pull him back toward you, kissing him. “I do. I want there to be a next time. Other times.”

He looks down at you, searching. “Good, I do too.” He kisses you and only pulls away to put on the condom. He continues his kisses as he moves to position himself, spreading your legs for him. He brushes his thumb over your clit again and you moan. When he lifts his head from yours and glances up at you. You nod your head.

You feel the tip of him at your entrance, pressing against you, but not fully in. That’s all he does at first, until you move on him and allow him to slip into you. He works himself into you, allowing you to stretch around him. It isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s definitely a new sensation. None of your toys feel like him. Both of you watch as his penis slowly disappears inside of you. He pushes in the last inch with a thrust. There’s a flash of a pinch and you let out a breath.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” He nods, licks his bottom lip and then resumes his circles on your clit. It only takes a few seconds for you to relax on him. You grind your hips, somehow taking him deeper. He groans. “Move, Spencer. Please.”

He inches out of you and then pushes back in without any urgency or force. He starts the same pattern and rhythm his fingers had used earlier that night. The feeling of him moving inside of you is incredible, you can feel him dragging against your walls. His body against yours, skin to skin, more connected than you’ve ever been with anyone else. Between the feeling of him pumping into and his movement against your clit, it doesn’t take long until you’re clawing at his back, wordlessly asking him for more. He answers, creating a relentless rhythm that you grind your hips to match.

At some point, your eyes had shut and you hadn’t realized and so you force them open again, wanting to watch Spencer come apart just like he watched you. “You feel so good. Better than I could have imagined.” He starts to ramble. “I can’t believe I get to feel you like this. So good.”

His eyes shoot down to watch himself slip in and out of you. “Fuck.” He cusses again. You decide you like when he curses, especially if you’re the reason. He moves his hips and his cock finds the same spot his fingers found earlier and you clench around him as you let out a deep groan.

You lose track of time, it moves at a snail’s pace, but also at the speed of light. Time ceases to exist to you, your world shrinks down to only the two of you, everything else falls away. And then you’re falling again, diving headfirst into an orgasm.

“Yes, yes. I love feeling you like this. Oh my god… oh fuck. I’m gonna –” he sputters.

You reach up and pull his lips to yours, kissing him through his own orgasm. He shakes above you as he pumps into you with a final harsh push. And then when he peaks, he slowly fucks into you through his orgasm. He continues to kiss you until both of your breathing returns to normal and then he lifts his head to look at you.

He smiles and you can’t help it when a huge toothy smile appears on your own face.

“Are you okay?” He inquires.

“I’m perfect.”

His hand reaches up and caresses the side of your face. “You are.”

The next morning you walk into the office still smiling. Everyone is around the desks, including Spencer. He glances over at you and nods in greeting, as if you hadn’t just said goodbye to him a few hours ago, the first golden rays of dawn streaming through your bedroom window.

“Good morning.” You say to everyone. You set your go bag down at your desk and Emily smiles over at you, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Oh, Morgan. You had it all wrong.” She teases.

Morgan looks at Emily and then over to you. “What?”

“That is the look of a woman who got it real good last night.” Emily laughs, loud and brash. You smile with her and Penelope gasps.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She runs over to you and grabs onto your arm.

“I have no idea what you mean.” You reply innocently.

JJ smirks. “Oh, she got it real good last night.”

“Is sex all you guys think about?” You joke. The girls laugh and Morgan still seems confused. Spencer is focused on the file on his desk, but his finger isn’t moving down it and you know he isn’t reading it. “I had a good night last night.” You give a small inch, just to stave them off. Penelope squeals. You grab her hand. “And that’s all I’ll say about it.”

“Boo!” Emily exclaims.

Penelope almost pouts. “Oh, you are the worst!”

“I know!” You laugh gleefully. Spencer looks up for only a split second, but you catch it and he smiles at you.

“I’ll find out eventually. You do know that, right?” Penelope warns.

“You are terrifying.” You squeeze her arm and turn away from the group to start on your mountain of files. It’s true that eventually everyone would probably find out about you and Spencer, but for now the two of you get to live in your own personal world. You smile to yourself.

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx @alicentswife @ingrid69rs @sobbingcryingattsizzles @infinitegalaxiesworld

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing #ohh my god i did not mean to write this much lmao

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reds-writings · 3 months

Text

if only tonight we could sleep?

the dora lange case had come to a close...but was it really ever over?

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: inspired by getting lost in the sound of the cure's kiss me, kiss me, kiss me album. this is set somewhere in the same world of jealousy, jealousy!. your feedback, as always, is greatly treasured!

word count: around 2.6k

warnings: angst, canon-typical death (mentions of what happens at the Ledoux shootout), nudity (showering together!), cursing, dread, etc (minors go away)

The Dora Lange case had finally been closed once and for all. All the bullshit and danger that had accumulated over all these weeks could finally cease to continue. You’re sure that even within the next twenty something odd years or so when all of this would be well blown over and buried you would never be able to truly process the fucked up-ness of it all.

Your mind was thoroughly numb and all of your limbs ached to no end. You could feel everything you’d endured catching up to you as your body finally allowed itself to let go. Adrenaline and sheer will had been what kept you from fully crumbling during the case’s most crucial and final moments. The shit Rust and Marty decided to pull with that druggie Ginger had already left you worse for wear. Discovering Ledoux and the horrors that were transpiring in that shithole was something you couldn’t let yourself dwell on for too long lest you wanted to find yourself having a complete mental breakdown. Bodies and skulls being blown to bits right in front of you. The sight of rich blood and scattered brain matter sprayed to stain onto your boots. Finding those kids like that…you’d never get over it. One was sentenced to a life of trauma that left her catatonic and the other one deceased. You’d had the naive thought more than once telling you if only we'd all been a bit quicker…

But there was no point in dwelling on all the ifs and maybes. That was a guaranteed one-way ticket to self-induced insanity.

You should feel relief that this is over. The weight of one of the many atrocities committed in the world removed from your down-trodden shoulders. Solved. A monster taken down and put into the earth where he couldn’t return to cause more strife. Why couldn't it feel over? Where was the relief?

You didn’t know much of what Rust and Marty felt on the matter, too busy dealing with keeping your stories straight on just how you all had come across Ledoux’s hideout instead of finding the time to have a heart-to-heart on how much this might’ve permanently screwed with your heads for ages to come. You knew well enough that ending the case like this wasn’t easy for either of them given their respective standpoints when it came to kids. Marty discovered those children and both men had carried them back. Rust had shouldered the burden of carrying that poor boy. A small choice of action that had your heart twisting even more painfully than you thought it already had during it all. The Texan could go on and on about the world being shit and there being no control over the horrors one would be put through trying to live life but you found that it was he who tried the hardest to shield others from said pain and horror whether he was aware of it or not. He cared a lot more about the human race than he let on but it would be more than ineffectual trying to convince him of that particular truth.

Things with Rust had been all over the place since the fiasco of a night you had after the bar as well as any event that followed afterwards: surprise, surprise. The time you’d initially aimed for to really sit down and decipher where it was exactly you saw the two of you headed had found itself slipping away at every possible chance. Neither of you was to necessarily blame, as the nature of your work was in constant demand of your full attention, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

You guys weren’t even truly anything yet and it was already this arduous. What kind of shelf-life did a pairing such as this really have down the line? It was more than likely that acting on any idea of pursuing Rust romantically was destined to never end in your favor. He was your coworker for Christ’s sake. Yes, there was no one else who could probably understand what it is you go through like each other but it was harder to separate other crueler aspects of your lives as well. Everything would get in the way of professionalism. It already had when it came to the showdown with Ginger.

Trying not to let your thoughts go down the usual Rust rabbit hole it found itself in you decided that you’d take the longest and hottest shower you hadn’t had the luxury of taking in weeks. Any extra time you had lately was reserved for quick and cold rinses to keep yourself up and at 'em’. Relaxation in any sense of the word was hard to adjust to after long stretches of work such as these. It was like your body had forgotten how to just be. Nothing was chasing you and there was no clock ticking over your shoulder to mock you that time to get shit done was running out. The empty quiet that followed would never not be unnerving to you. You had nowhere to be and nothing to do.

Where was the fucking relief?

With a huff, you set aside the jack and coke you’d been cradling out on your front porch in the dwindling evening light. The air was more balmy than the stifling hot you’d experienced day in and day out though your skin still held that essence of a humid dew that kept your hair and clothes sticking to you like a second skin. Dusting off your pants you made way to get on up from your depressing reverie only to find the outline of a familiarly limber figure at the end of your driveway. How the hell hadn’t you heard him pull up?

“Are you gonna stand there like a regular ol’ weirdo or get up here?” You feigned nonchalance at his sudden presence but your heart told another story with the quickening pace it decided to adopt.

Wordlessly, Rust ventured his way up the pathway and onto your shabby porch. He eyed the abandoned drink you had by your side so you offered it up to him. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first two buttons of his dress shirt before accepting the silent offering. It took two long gulps before the glass was drained.

There was a heavy silence for longer than what was comfortable. Where could you even start? You didn’t want to catch yourself in an awkward fumble trying to gauge what it was he exactly needed from you as it was clear there was a purpose in him showing up without a warning. The set of his posture made it seem like he was curling in on himself more and more by the minute. He couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, fearful that it would be his complete undoing. This visible deflation in action made you feel panicked for not knowing what assistance you could offer without having him pull away.

“...D’ya wanna talk about it?”

Rust shook his head softly as if in a daze. His eyes growing glassy and increasingly distant while he stared at your porch’s floorboards.

At a loss, you cleared your throat shakily, “Well I was just about to hop in the shower. You can come inside…hang around if you want. We don’t have to talk or nothin’...o-or we can if that’s what you wanna end up doin’ after havin’ some quiet.”

No reply.

“Well, there’s beers and whatnot in the fridge if you choose. Don’t be shy to helpin’ yourself.” You got up and squeezed his hand gently, warm and calloused like you’d been dreaming about since they held you. That already felt like ages ago. He still made no move.

“I’m here.” Was all you could say and with that, you loosened your grip and headed on inside then upstairs to your bathroom. After setting out some comfy clothes and shedding out of the day’s stiff attire for all the press work that entailed you waited for the shower to reach its desired heat. The person looking back at you in your steadily fogging mirror was almost unrecognizable. Bruises from recent incidents had barely begun to make their way towards the fading process. Skin so sullen and hair even duller. When had you started to look so tired? This beaten down? You felt sorry for anyone who had the displeasure of viewing your walking corpse as of late.

The spray of the showerhead above you was nothing short of heavenly. Any pain and misery melted away to be forever cast down into the depths of the tub’s drain. Your bones felt like lead as you let yourself stand there, waiting to gain the sense of motivation to start washing yourself clean. It could’ve been ten minutes or even ten hours before the sound of the bathroom door clicking ajar had you opening your eyes. The silhouette of the cause of your heart’s aching and beating stood beyond the fogged glass as if at a loss of what to make himself do next. You said nothing, not wanting him to feel as if he was unwanted or on the other hand forced to join you. To expose himself beyond what a casual act of nudity could display already.

It was another elongated moment before you heard the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothes being discarded. You were so far gone that it hadn’t occurred to you he was about to see you at your most vulnerable. He’d witnessed you at some of your lowest, shittiest points but this was crossing into an entirely new territory.

And yet you didn’t feel as scared as you thought you would. You didn’t find Rust to be as judgemental about the physical as he was about the metaphysical.

The shower’s sliding door worked its way open and you didn’t turn around until a few moments after it had closed. The look on his face was similar to the one you’d been subjected to all those weeks ago after the bar. One of true fear. Fear of being seen at his very core. Open and raw. Fear that you’d take this all in and decide to turn him away in disgust or disinterest. Rust’s eyes didn’t wander down any further than your face. He wasn’t here out of primal desire. He needed something…someone…you to help him hold himself together for just this moment. Any and all strength he usually had keeping him upright had escaped him after the weight of everything finally penetrated his psyche.

You found your hand making its way up to his face, tracing dampening tendrils out of his line of sight before cupping his jaw. That empty blue fluttered closed, giving himself a moment or two before completely relinquishing himself to your gentle touch. Your other hand met the other side of his face before you leaned forward to touch your forehead to his. The downfall of water in the small cubicle drowned out any other possible thoughts or worries that could’ve been had in the current moment. There was nothing and no one else that mattered.

One kiss to his nose, then his chin, and finally his trembling lips had large palms come up to rest on the supple flesh of your hips, steadily gripping you as if you’d float away from him. You separated for a moment as his hands traveled up to clutch at your back. Before he could bring you closer you kissed him gently once more before succumbing to his grasp. Settling with leaving barely-there imprints of your mouth on the expansive skin of his chest and neck, your own hands brought themselves up to return his embrace. You felt the soft press of a peck linger on the side of your head as his grip grew a bit tighter. Seconds passed until the subtle shaking of broad shoulders had you clinging to him impossibly tighter. His sobs were not all that audible but the shuddering breaths he’d take in every now and then were more than enough to clue you in on just how much he was hurting. Tears began to burn behind your own eyes as your pain melded with his.

Here you were, just two broken people who gave up all notions of stoicism to completely and utterly crumble in front of each other. Fully at each other’s undeniable mercy.

- - - -

You didn’t know how much more time had passed after holding each other but as the water began to grow more frigid you made haste to help each other wash up. You both stepped out so you could wrap yourself in your own towel before making your way to your linen closet to fetch him one as well as to not have him left wet and cold for too long. With your mind a bit clearer from the emotional release experienced, you finally came to realize the presence of the exceptionally athletic physique in front of you. He seemed to be in the same state of appreciation towards you and you caught yourself feeling hot in the face as you clumsily thrust a towel in his direction.

“You don’t have to be shy in front of me.” His voice sounded raw from lack of use. The first words he’d uttered since he’d come here.

You tucked a wet piece of hair behind your ear, trying to casually meet his stare, “I know. Just didn’t expect us to end up here when you showed up is all. It’s just catchin’ up to me…” The pinch of your chin between long fingers drew you to kiss him again.

“You’re everythin'...and then some.”

You fought a self-deprecating scoff but he said it as if it were the most simplest fact in the world. You had no choice but to believe him.

“Let’s just find you some clothes. I am in dire need of one looong hibernation after everythin’. You too, mister.” You flicked his chest then slinked out of the bathroom. You finished any of the necessary preparations for bed by the time he had wandered into your room. The window you cracked open let in a gentle breeze while the warm glow of the few candles that had been lit danced in the haven you created. Whether you wanted a form of light for the sake of your own comfort or it being done out of some subconsciously innate need to keep Rust out of the dark for the night, you didn’t care to unpack.

Climbing into bed once and for all, you lay facing each other. Letting peace and stillness settle in.

“We did it y’know…it’s over. We can be okay.” You couldn’t help but say. Feeling the need to find something to reaffirm the so-called fact that should’ve been comforting at the end of all this. Anything to soothe underlying anxiety as the heavy shadow of the unknown and incomplete loomed over you. It should’ve been over but Ledoux was but a small piece to a hugely fragmented puzzle. Both of you knew it deep down but hadn’t the strength to confirm it out loud. Afraid to shatter this sense of temporary false security.

This was far from being done and dealt with. From being fully uncovered.

Rust didn’t say anything else as he pulled you into the warmth of his chest. Caging you in with no choice but to surrender to the silent feeling of safety he was trying to provide you. You could only pray that the two of you could make it through anything as you both found yourselves victims to the passing of time and any other trials it had ready for you.

Especially with whatever was waiting for you on the other side of Carcosa.

----

a/n: ahhhh! hurt/comfort is always a guilty pleasure. sorry for the immense dread at the end. i'm thinking of cooking up another fic that draws back to what exactly went down with our trio and ginger if that's something of interest to you all! thanks for reading!

#reds-writings #rust cohle #true detective season 1 #rust cohle imagine #rust cohle x reader #true detective imagine #matthew mcconaughey #true detective

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wangxianficfinder · 5 months

Text

Fic finder

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1. Looking for a Cloud Recesses era fic. LWJ eventually ask WWX why he doesn't complete his punishment to get it out of the way (he just doodles in the library so the punishment stretches on). WWX points out that it takes more than 1 to cheat in an exam and yet where are the other culprits? This leads to LWJ's awakening to the unfairness/hypocrisy of LQR and interpreting rules. I think this might be just before the betrothal is cancelled, and LWJ confronts LQR or he steps up for WWX during this scene. Maybe? It could be 2 separate scenes. Argh! Please help! Until A03 lets me download and filter my reading history, you're my only hope! @mreisse

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2. Hi.

So i read an uncompleted ao3 fic that wangxian had an arranged marriage and were NOT in a good terms and lwj was always cold to wwx also wwx had to wear a mask all the time or a bad fate would come to him if anyone aside jiangs see his face. At some point he goes to live in a mansion in yilling with mian mian and mo xuanyu and xu yang to go away from rumors because lwj had to also marry wen qing to appease wen rouhan

Anyway i couldn't find the fic anywhere and i don't remember its name. I was hoping if you guys have any idea what happened to it?

FOUND? #2 is A Price to Pay by Wangxianist. They have deleted account and all fics.

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3. Hi! ／(^ x ^)＼

I have a request for the fic finder!

I only remember this one bit? scene?

it's at a battle, SSC maybe? and WWX and 3 or 4 others hold hands and talk as one and they light up, and weird magic happen?

I'm sorry that it is so little and confused ／(＞×＜)＼

Hi! ／(^ x ^)＼ I'm #3 on the fic finder and it is not Quartet

but thank you anyway! I know that I really didn't give a lot to go of

if it helps I think one of the people with WWX might have been WN or NHS, but I'm really not sure

Not FOUND! Quartet series by WithBroomBefore (T, 69k wangxian, JZX & JC & WWX & LWJ, Canon Divergence, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, WWX's canonical comfort with the prospect of his own death, Hurt/Comfort, JZX makes friends, Eventual Happy Ending, some unhappiness along the way, Canon-Typical Violence, JC keeps his golden core, JYL Lives, WQ Lives, Minor Character Death, Kissing, WWX Lives, no golden core transfer, JZX Lives, Fix-It, WN Lives, Weeping, temporary major character death, Murder Road Trip, Implied Sexual Content, Sunshot Campaign, Nonbinary NHS, Telepathy, platonic group soulbonding, Family, Found Family, POV WWX, Podfic Available, Siblings Sworn Brothers, aroace JZX, Happy Ending, all the Wen remnants live, POV JZX, JGY is less murdery, Asexual Character, Aromantic Character, JZX's social awkwardness, Poison)

FOUND! We Can See a New Start by preciousbunnynoiz (M, 127k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Soulmates, Time Travel Fix-It, Biting, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, but mentally they are adults, Making Out, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Happy Ending, PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Supportive LWJ, Communication, Soul Bond, Blood, Found Family, Parent-Child Relationship, aromantic JC, Lesbian WQ, Queerplatonic Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Disassociate episodes, disassociating, Suicidal Thoughts, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Depression, Delusions, Mental Health Issues, Mental Breakdown, Attempted Sexual Assault, Therapy, Supportive JC, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Torture, Revenge, Self-Sacrifice, Accidental Bonding, Brotherly Bonding)

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4. Hi! I'm trying to find a fic similar do the 8 ask from the previous fic finder. In this one, it's also an arranged marriage, and Lz also pushes Wy into a pond when they're teenagers, but there is a scene, after they're adults and already married, where Lz prevents Wy from falling into a pond, and it's revealed that Lz didn't actually push Wy into the pond, he just bumped into Wy when he turned around too fast and Wy fell into the pond, he was going to help Wy get out, but Wy got out by himself before Lz coulp help him and went away before Lz could say he was sorry and explain what happened.

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5. looking for a fic were lan xichen has the big sad, probably was a modern au. lan wangji and wei wuxian come by to help him clean his apartment and lan wangji is like “sorry I haven’t been here for you”. there’s mention of them putting the laundry away and stuff. fairly short.

FOUND! found in translation by sysrae (E, 12k, LXC/NMJ, wangxian, modern cultivation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, not LQR friendly, Meddling brothers, Coming Out, Loss of Virginity, Under-negotiated Kink, slight breathplay, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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6. Hi! I’m looking for a fic. It’s wangxian modern au, they’re friends with benefits (top!LZ / Bottom!WY) and it’s told from Lan Wangji’s pov. Wei Ying gets in a car accident and is in a coma for 13 days (might be 16) and he ends up staying at Lan Wangji’s place while he gets better. I really can’t remember the title and it making me coo coo. Thank you xx @liv-andletdie

FOUND? Almost Lover by vesna (mrsronweasley) (E, 37k, Wangxian, modern, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort, a bad thing happens to WWX, LWJ gets very sad, Hospital Scenes, Dubious Medical Science, pining for the person you're fucking, Friends With Benefits, friends who come together stay together, learning to use our words, there are also rabbits, Traumatic Injury, mention of past WWX/WQ)

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7. Hi, Thank you so much for your amazing work!! I am specifically looking for a fic where Jiang Yanli tells the Jins about where the Wens were living which leads to their death? And Wei Wuxian doesn't forgive her for that and even Jiang Cheng was upset about it. @yilinglaobunny

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8. It's both a fic finder and an ITMF, in the fic wwx had a tiger/lion and it was canon era, I'm not able to find it. // added the last part to ITMF post ~Mod L

FOUND? Time Unwinds in a Kaleidoscope of Red by vamprav (E, 30k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, WWX Has No Golden Core, Golden Core Reveal, BAMF WWX, Undead Tiger, Sentient Burial Mounds, JGY Redemption, As in wei ying recruits him to yunmeng, deadly hairpins) WWX raises a tiger from the dead in that one

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9. I’m looking for the fic where WWX “develops” a silver core - him, NMJ (I think), and LWJ follow JGY down a tunnel and catch him being shady, and JGY tries to activate the tiger amulet. It spirals out of control and WWX absorbs the power and it becomes a cool reservoir of power similar to a core, and WQ tells him “congratulations, you successfully invented a new kind of cultivation .”

Thank you for all you do!! @seussian

Hi! #9 on the recent fic finder post isn’t Never Again, although there are similar elements! The scene I’m remembering definitely involved fall~out from JGY using the tiger seal and WWX absorbing its power to save everyone. Thank you for all of your efforts!!

NOT FOUND! Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn't have a happy ending)

NOT FOUND! ❤️ Tragedy is Not the End by Hobbsy3 (T, 358k, wangxian, Time Travel, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Golden Core Reveal, Canon Divergence from Qiongqi Pass, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Yunmeng sibling bonding, good dad wwx, good dad lwj, JZX Lives, JYL Lives, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

FOUND! The Breaking of Your Soul (Upon My Lips) by sunsandships (M, 40k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, Canon-Typical Violence, Golden Core Reveal, Happy Ending)

~*~

10. I'm looking for a fic where lqr regrets sending wwx away. I think it was something along the lines of yzy kicking wwx out, and wwx went to the lan household first (in the middle of the night?) but lqr thought he was being a disturbance and didn't let him in to see lwj and then wwx disappeared. Then several years later, lwj and wwx reconnect and there's a part where lqr is really repetent and shows that he always regretted turning wwx away bc he felt like it was partially his fault for how difficult wwx's life was after that. Tyvm in advance for everyone's help!

🔒Welcome to the Family Series by jiejieaini (E, 231k, WangXian, NieLan, XuanLi, Modern AU, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, London, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Adopted WWX, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunions, Hand Jobs, Gay Sex, Consensual Non-Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Christmas, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, First Time, Public Blow Jobs, High School, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Falling In Love, Love Confessions, Blowjobs, Soft WangXian, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Family Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Drowning, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Dubious Consent, Rimming, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Marriage Proposal, Weddings, Nightmares, Adoption, Pregnancy)

~*~

11. Hello I am trying to find a fic, it was a little long ago

So what happens is that lwj and wwx were in full on love making session, cloths discarded and all and some people barge in on them 😭 I don't remember the rest but the people included lqr maybe idk

FOUND? divulgences by ataraxistence (Not rated, 3k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Humor, Love Confessions)

~*~

12. Hi! I read a fic a couple of years ago that I'd love to find again... it was a modern au, where LWJ worked in his family run martial arts complex or something along those lines (I think a-yuan was a student, which is how WWX met him? But I might be getting my fics crossed) I remember LWJ was autistic, and there was a community festival or something and he was getting super overwhelmed so wwx put some juice or ketchup on his hand and pretended to be hurt so LWJ would have an excuse to go inside and "heal" him.

Thanks for all that you do! @scenicpixie

FOUND! leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, wangxian, modern, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic LWJ, neurodivergent WWX, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you've met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, setting out to make the neighborhood safer for your crush and accidentally building community, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation, the chef's assortment of partnered sex acts)

~*~

13. hi, im looking for a fic with a scene where lwj is in seclusion mourning wwx and is told he'll be forced to marry. he runs out immediately and gets drunk/brands himself, wakes up to lxc telling him their uncle has changed his mind and he won't have to marry (so please stop trying to die please). i remember literally nothing else so any assistance appreciated! @onlyegret

~*~

14. For fic finder I am looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is banished from Lotus Pier while Madam Yu is still alive and everyone in the sect has to turn away from him. Literally turn away: he walks down the streets to leave Lotus Pier and everyone he has ever known turns their faces from him. I think was technically outcast from the world of polite cultivation in whole (like no one from a sect was supposed to interact with him) but I don’t remember how his banishment played out after leaving. TY~!

~*~

15. Hi i was wondering if you could help me find a fic. It is set during the yilling patriarch arc, the wens are in burial mounds. In koi tower madam jin was searching for jgs asking jgy about him. JGS was in a brothel and JGY got hit in the head with a vase because he didn't answer? JZX and JYL helped him but he suffered from a concussion and started acting weird and blurting out all his father's evil plan about planning on killing NMJ and trying to get the tiger seal i guess? In the end i think burial mounds and the wen creat a sect with jgy's help ? Amd i think it was a 3zun fic but i really cant remember sorry. Can you please help me find it i am searching for it for weeks now thanks!!! @booksandkdrama01

FOUND? Just a drop by R95irth (Not Rated, 184k, XiYao, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengSangQing, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Canon Divergence, Fix-It of Sorts, 3zun | Venerated Triad Dynamics, 3Zun at the very end)

~*~

16. Hello, seeking a bit of help because my own searches are turning up nothing. Looking for a fic where Mdm Yu had first (secretly?) married Jin Guangshan, before marrying Jiang Fengmian a bit later. It turns out that Yanli and Cheng are both actually Jin (because Mdm Yu *kept* cheating) and are disowned by Jiang and taken into Jin as servants. Mdm Yu loses her arms(?). Jin Guangyao tried to frame Yanli for poisoning Mdm Jin. @zoolooney

FOUND! Could this one be “OOC!” by A_flower_in_the_snow that was reuploaded on Wattpad

~*~

17. Hi, i'm searching for a fic where lan wangji needs a favor from yiling laozu. Wei ying jokingly says He wants his first born and lan wangji proceeds to marry him so the can make that child.

FOUND? ❤️ spider lilies to sunflowers by cicer (E, 33k, wangxian, ABO, YLLZ WWX, fairy tale elements, mpreg, omega LWJ, alpha WWX, LWJ topping from the bottom, Mojo’s post)

~*~

18. Hello for the fic finder, can you help find this fic, lwj is a uni professor who's stoic and cold and he's taking online classes and then one day wwx walks into the frame wearing booty shorts (?) and everyone of lwjs students are shocked and trying to figure out who he is. Eventually they find wwxs oh or smth. That's all I remember, if you can find it thank you so much 💞

FOUND? looking through a window by glitteringmoonlight (T, 5k, wangxian, modern, POV Outsider, College/University, Fluff and Humor)

~*~

19. Hi, can you help me find this fic in which WWX is a General in the army (and is also a Prince I suppose but not like next in line) and is rumored to be hideous looking because of the scar on his face or something and is feared by the world. WangXian are married (arranged) and WWX only sleeps with LWJ enough to conceive a child and once he is informed of LWJ being pregnant, WWX stops seeing LWJ at all. WWX is under the impression that LWJ would find him ugly and so he even dims the lights and has LWJ wear a blindfold whenever they share their marital bed. LWJ doesn’t know his husband, hasn’t even seen his face properly and has never spoken to him in all the months they have been married and he is feeling extremely lonely but one day he finds an injured man in his courtyard and takes care of him without anyone’s knowledge. He doesn’t know the injured man is actually his husband WWX.

I read this on ao3 and forgot to bookmark it and now I can’t find it. Please, I will be extremely grateful if you could find it.

Thanks!

FOUND? 🔒 Love Swept in with the Rain by Sirendipity (M, 35k, WIP, WangXian, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Historical, Arranged Marriage, Secret Identity, Mistaken Identity, Emotional Infidelity, lwj cheats on his husband with his husband, Depression, Mpreg, Discussion of Abortion, Period-Typical Sexism, Hurt/Comfort, Fantasy, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, General WWX, Unreliable Narrator, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Beauty and the Beast Elements)

~*~

20. Looking for a fic that I remember only one scene from 😅 WWX tells LWJ that he could not have saved him no matter what he would have done, LWJ breaking down hard after. Pretty sure they were in the Jingshi.

~*~

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

116 notes · View notes

snailsgoingdowntown · 11 months

Text

Intrigued With You

i ii iii iiii

Yandere! Pinocchio x Fem! Mechanic! Reader

Warnings: physical violence (towards reader & Howard), mentioned past stalking & threats, blood, very slight mental breakdown, mention of injuries (broken limps & burns & cuts), inaccurate portal of the game demo, when the full release comes out, this work may be completely different from the actual game. Please tell me if I missed any.

This blog contains/creates/interacts with dark content, so if you are uncomfortable with that, don’t interact.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the toxic and harmful behaviors/thoughts that take place in this piece of fiction. None of this should be romanticized or considered normal as it is extremely toxic and dangerous.

Dead dove don’t eat.

Minors/ageless blogs that are blank/barely have anything, dni or you will be blocked.

Over all story summary: Your uncle’s puppet takes a too much of an interest in you.

Wc: 1992k

---

There are flyers everywhere.

Being handed out, scattered across the street, plastered onto windows – just everywhere. From a butler model bowing to a woman in one, to The Parade Master grinning in another. Advertisements, protests, novels of forbidden love, nearly everything was concerning the puppets. And nearly everything was making you sick, bile rising as you try to pretend that this is okay.

Like the world wasn’t about to be set on fire, Krat getting the worse of it.

You look to your left, Howard walking by your side. Unlike you, he’s smiling sweetly at the view, waving, and taking the handouts. It makes you envious. When he notices your gaze, you swore there was a hint of pink on his cheeks. You almost feel bad, but there was a sense of irritation, too. You should have said ‘no’.

“Is there something on my face?” He finally turns his head, trying to suppress a grin. He fails, miserably so. “If so, please tell. I don’t want to distract you,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. You scoff.

“Nothing can distract me, not even you,” turning your head away, looking forward, you resist the urge to laugh. Because if you react nicely, in a way that he’ll like, then he’ll get false hope. False hope that even he knew was nonexistent, but to be delusional, even if for a minute, was better to live in the reality that does nothing but burns. You swallow down the anxiety and guilt. It’s getting harder to stay.

“Hm, our little (name) is all grown up – too important to laugh with us peasants,” he teases, reaching out to ruffle your hair. He stops when you lean your head away. “So cold!”

Rolling your eyes, you ignore him, coat starting to feel stuffy. You’re sweating more than you should. “How far is this place anyway?” You adjust your coat, undoing the buttons, letting the front flutter. It feels like heaven, letting the cool wind cool down your overheating body – maybe you’re coming down sick.

Howard doesn’t answer.

You ask again, twice, before looking to your left, finding that he’s not there – you quickly turn around, only to spot him looking intensely at a particular poster. “Oh, come on…,” you make way towards him, both embarrassed and annoyed. You call out again, this time only a few steps away from him. He finally notices you.

“Hey,” he doesn’t give you room to talk, “just how well-known are you?” You’re taken aback by how his expression hardens; eyebrows furrowed as he jabs a thumb towards the poster.

“I’m… not sure?” walking until you’re directly in front of the poster, all you do is let out a giggle – you knew it was going to happen someday. And it scares you. It seems that the city is going to burn, soon.

The poster was a protest against the puppets. And your uncle is mentioned in it.

You were being stared at in the café. Not by many, but a select few, eyes glued to you, and you try your best to ignore it. Howard does too, pretending that he was unaware of the hostile atmosphere. Like he wasn’t about to become a target just from talking to you.

“– and then, my mother sent her to her room. Really, all my sister had to do was tell her who she was seeing; mother wasn’t planning on telling my father, anyway.” He carries on with his story, and you nod your head along, taking sips from your drink here and there. His shoulders and jaw are tense.

“She’s just in her rebellious phase,” you lean back, taking a glance at the table across from you. Three men, one woman, all staring you down like prey. “But surely, she’ll become mature about it,” you stretch your arms over your head before leaning forward, perching your elbows on the table. Hands cupping your cheeks as you grin at him, nervous.

Just pretend.

Howard gets the message, faking a yawn. Too many eyes and ears to start anything. And besides, they’ll be the ones in trouble, if anything. Even if they manage to get in a hit or two on Howard and send you to the hospital. Chills run down your spine at the thought – grabbing the glass and chugging down the rest of your water, food half-finished. You want – need – to leave.

He goes to pay while you stand idly by the door, breath hitching once the group follows. They don’t do anything, yet, but wait in line, and when Howard’s done paying, you tug on his sleeve, basically dragging him out of the café. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t ask questions – just follows. They follow soon after, and you’re not sure if you’re about to cry or laugh. Maybe both.

This is another reason why you hate being involved with the puppets – the protesters that hunt people like you down, clawing at their necks, gorging out their eyes if they could. You understand, you do, but it doesn’t justify when they beat someone black and blue just because they work with the workshop, especially when they’re minding their business. Attacking when the time is right, and you’re trying to flee before they find the opportunity to land a hit, to throw a rock.

“Sheesh, to think they’d so something like this in broad daylight…”

“It’s worse at night. From what I’ve heard, anyway. Guess I’ll have to add chains to the outside of the door, bar the windows up now.”

For both the house and his personal workshop, you mentally added.

Just to be safe.

You take two turns, different street signs, different shops, and apartments – the group still follows. You look back, only for a second, only to be with the sight of them being closer than earlier. Before you turn your head back, you catch the gleam of something under the woman’s sleeve. Is it a knife?

“Keep your eyes forward and just walk. Pretend they aren’t there,” Howard grabs your wrist, keeps moving and the roles are reversed, he’s dragging you as your heart leaps out from your chest. It’s happened once before, but even then, they gave up when you took a different turn than usual. This group doesn’t care. “Keep calm.”

They’re still following you even after you circled around the block for the fourth time; that’s when passerby’s start to notice. Start to care.

Something hits the back of your head.

And then something bigger hits you, making you wince, biting your tongue to keep quiet. Any reaction would be victory to them, and any damage is also trophy worthy. Howard doesn’t notice. The people around don’t say anything, just look on in shock. Shock, disagreement, agreement, happy, horrified – different mindsets and yet, no-one does anything. No-one joins, no-one stops it.

Another rock hits you, this time the nape of your neck, and it’s sharper than the others. You think you feel blood running down. Maybe you’re imaging things.

“Hey!” one of the men finally speak up, and you shut your eyes, still letting Howard drag you like a ragdoll. You want to cry. “Hey! I’m speaking to you!” You can’t see his face, but you’re sure his face is red in anger. Teeth bared and ready to snap at something. Snap at you if he doesn’t decide to go further and bite you.

“Just ignore them.”

You swallow a sob – for once, you’d rather be surrounded by those dreadful puppets you hate so much. No. You’d rather be alone with that puppet in your uncle’s workshop. It can’t even open its eyes. It can’t harm you, unlike this angry mob that makes you bleed and fear for your safety.

You fear pain more than death.

“I don’t think they’re going to leave us alone.”

Howard doesn’t answer, doesn’t comment on how broken and shaky your voice is. He doesn’t do anything, aside from making sure you don’t end up in an isolated area – a dead end street or alleyway. You needed open areas, full of people who are neutral.

It’s when you’re hit by a fifth rock that you finally let out a sob. And it’s by the fifth rock when one of the men finally catch up, practically tearing into you as he takes you by the shoulder, dragging you towards him. You stumble, whining in pain as Howard pulls you back, grip on your wrist more painful than the stranger’s.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yells, shielding you behind him as the man stumbles back. You shut your eyes tight.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you – you’re with her! Don’t you realize she’s going to burn this city to the ground?” You can’t see their expressions, don’t want to, and you take a step back when Howard does. The man screams some more.

“These damn puppets – the protocols don’t work on some. It’s only a matter of time before they all glitch out and decide to kill us – “

“They won’t. They can’t – their systems will literally shut down if they break any.”

He’s not exactly wrong, but he’s not entirely right – some don’t shut down. So, you’re the one who scrapes them. You keep your mouth shut, trembling. It’s suddenly too cold. You want to hide.

“Right, right. Then tell me, will that always be the case? You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? No, you’ve seen the results – some owners got injured by their own puppets. On purpose. Burns, cuts, broken limbs – it’s happening too often to be a coincidence.”

There’s some more yelling, and it’s only when someone reaches out from behind you, a person from outside their group, grabbing your hair that some finally interjects. You can’t stop the scream that escaped you, nor can you physically open your eyes – it’s only when the small group and the person pulling on your hair get restrained by some outsiders that you can finally breathe. Another rock is thrown from inside the crowd, this time hitting right above your eyebrow. You think they get pinned to the ground.

Blood is running down your face. You just hope the cut isn’t deep.

The entire situation was a mess, especially when the puppet police officers appear – human ones needed to be called in.

Everything goes black after that, only remembering attempts to hold Howard back as he starts to punch the man in front of him into a pulp.

“Hold still.”

You’re back in the workshop, too scared to go home – it’s an unassuming little shed, with only a selected few knowing the location. Obviously, Howard was one of the individuals. And it was him who was being patched up, his wrists raw and on the verge of bleeding. He winces every time you press the cotton ball on it, tweezers trembling when you can’t stay calm.

You’re scared.

Guilty.

“… I’m sorry.”

He looks up at you. “For what?” his gaze burns into your skull. Your skin is on fire, and you can’t feel separated from the situation from earlier. It still feels like it’s happening, right now. “You didn’t do anything.” He’s right, but it still feels wrong. He rubs your knuckles with his free hand, already bandaged up.

It does little to calm you.

“I know. I know, but fuck… maybe if I wasn’t so involved with the industry, then maybe – “

“They would still go after you, even if you weren’t involved at all. Because you’re Geppetto’s niece.”

You halt, shutting your eyes. It happens, sometimes. You’ll get yelled at, threatened – but you’ve never been hit. They never went that far. The dam finally broke, and now the water is rushing out. It was only a matter of time, but even so, it still hurts more than it should. Scares you more than expected.

You’re so engrossed in everything that’s drowning you to notice the puppet’s ‘heart’ beating faster than usual, on the table.

Tag list

@connorsoddsock

#yandere #yandere lies of p #yandere pinocchio #yandere Pinnochio x reader #pinocchio x reader #lies of p #lies of p x reader #lies of p pinocchio

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galaxythreads · 2 years

Note

i literally don't understand the mcu script writes who've bragged about never having seen the previous movies, like bro??? how do you expect that script to be consistent with the rest of the canon?????????

normally I'd laugh and be like Yeah, anon, these guys are insane, but you have bypassed Mental Breakdown part of my brain and now I am deeply, deeply curious.

---

Why is it that mcu script writers are so proud to be arrogant?

---

Warning for minor language.

So anyway, the person I thought of specifically as being Generally Terrible to the Franchise Lately was Michael Waldron, who wrote Loki, Dr. Strange 2, AND is currently working on Avengers: Secret Wars. (Yay)

So I did a lot of research about where this guy CAME from and how he's impacted everything because I swear to God I'd never heard of him before Loki. And now I see him everywhere, but usually only in loathing.

---

Michael Waldron, according to Wikipedia, is currently 35 as of 2022 and graduated from some Film School i haven't heard of and can't be bothered to remember. He is unmarried(?) and has been active in the film industry since 2014. (8 years, for those of you counting.) He started work on Loki in 2020(? unconfirmed).

The thing that struck me the most was how incredibly short his project list is.

My man has six (6) completed projects. He had three before he started on Loki. And while this doesn't necessarily mean that he's bad, it does show a level of inexperience that baffles me personally.

For comparison, Kenneth Brangah, one of four screenwriters for Thor 1's list is this:

And again, it's not like Brangah's list is enormous, but I do see a lot more experience under their belt before they were approached by MCU rather than Waldron, who had done three projects. Brangah had 20 years in sceenwriting when he went to work for Thor. Waldron had six.

And the amazing thing to me is that even the shows Waldron's executive producer on, he wrote like, two episodes for it? Then he handed it off to other writers. So he doesn't, as far as I can tell and I found, seem to have a lot of experience actually working the writing process, just supervising it.

(I could be wrong)

But here is his latest series Heels, for reference.

the section says "Written by" above the names, I cropped it weirdly.

---

So we have a man who has, at this point, worked six years in the industry. He has worked on three shows. He was the assistant for one show, he did not write in the other one, and he has written for ONE show, total. Produced one show, was the executive producer for ONE show.

What I am seeing here, is, from what I can see, a lack of experience. And it shows. Badly.

So why did Marvel hire him?

----

According to an interview Waldron did, where I'm drawing a great deal of this information, he has always wanted to work for the Big Leagues. He wanted to work on Star Wars mostly, from what I could see, but he didn't think that Marvel would be bad either. When he approached his agent about how to get working for Marvel his agent told him he needed to have written a movie.

Now you're probably wondering. I DID look at that list of projects he's been involved in, and there wasn't a movie.

You are correct!

Waldron wrote a movie called The Worst Guy of All Time and the Girl Who Came to Kill Him. It's on The Black List and was never filmed, to my understanding. But he sure did write that script. And that script, I believe, is where a lot of issues in Loki start to come to light, but we'll get to that in a minute.

"At some point the script made its way to Marvel as they were meeting people for Loki and that got him in the door to pitch and that pitch got him the job."

When Kevin Feige was hiring directors, Waldron walked in and "I thought I was going to get it, but that's my attitude, I guess, hopefully as unarrogantly as that can sound, but I think you got to be confident" (Waldron). Feige was apparently impressed and hired him on.

Which again, a bold choice that COULD have been great, to give a small name the chance to work on a project like this?? Incredible. Just not in this context.

I feel immensely confused that MCU, which is a multi-billion dollar industry, did NOT actually hire someone with years and years of experience like they did for Thor 1. Instead, they went with someone who, personally to me, didn't have enough experience to seem like he knew what he was doing.

So now Waldron is working in MCU. Things are going great for him. He has TWENTY WEEKS to come up with the plot, the scripts, and the story for the entire Loki series.

TWENTY. I cannot emphasize this enough. That is no time at all. They went from blank slate NO IDEAS to a full script in TWENTY. WEEKS.

So HOW then, did Waldron get approached to do Dr. Strange 2?

Apparently, Waldron and Owen Wilson were talking one day and Waldron got asked to do Dr. Strange 2 because it was just as chaotic as Loki was.

WALDRON: Yeah. By that time, I had been able to build the trust. We'd written Loki. Loki was in good shape at that point. It was headed into production. I was getting ready to go to Atlanta. Fortunately, the scripts were in good shape. One of our writers, a close friend of mine, Eric Martin, took my place and went and was the writer on set, which you've got to have, and he did amazing work carrying the show across the finish line, from a writing standpoint. And yeah, it was just, "All right. You did Loki. That was crazy. Come do Dr. Strange. This is going to be crazy, too." That was really fun.

And guess what! This is the instructions he was given FOR Dr. Strange 2.

WALDRON: It is purely, 100%, "Make the most kick ass Dr. Strange movie you can possibly make." There was no, "You got to get here. It's got to fit here."

Which, by the way, Feige stated that he had no plans for the Loki series beyond time travel, and Waldron was instructed to do whatever he felt like. A 100% most kick-ass time travel series, you might say.

---

Okay. So now that we have some background, I'm going to get onto my soapbox and explain why this man was a horrible, horrible directing choice and shows 0 understanding of the characters. This is going to go over Loki and Dr. Strange 2, for reference.

---

LOKI:

The biggest disaster I see with Loki is that the FIRST -- and I emphasize this, the FIRST -- thing that Waldron says about Loki in the interview is this:

Waldron: And I'd written a time travel movie about a character who was kind of a villain, and kind of a sh*thead, like Loki.

I think that the problem that Waldron suffered from the most in Loki is that Waldron didn't want to make a TV series about Loki. He doesn't like the character very much from what I can tell. Obviously, he calls him a sh*thead, but he never has anything nice to say about Loki as a whole either. He doesn't want to talk about Loki as a person, or Loki's story, Waldron wants to talk about the TVA. I seriously cannot emphasize this enough. Not once in the interview did Loki as a person come up. Loki didn't even seem to be a character to him.

The TVA is where Waldron seems like most of his time was spent, because that was, after all, what MCU wanted to do. I honestly, genuinely do not believe this man would have taken the job for Loki if it wasn't about time travel. Because Waldron could focus on the TVA and not Loki. Loki was an irritant he had to occasionally do something with.

And now we get to his script that was pitched to MCU.

Waldron: I sat down and I wrote a script that was a time travel action rom-com, is how I would describe it...because they [Marvel] wanted to make a time travel show. And I'd written a time travel movie about a character who was kind of a villain, and kind of a shithead, like Loki.

And the thing is, to me, sounds a lot like the TV series. A romcom, with time travel, and a sh*thead kind-of villain. That's the series we got. I do wonder how much of this pitch made it into the final series, because this is what Waldron had as a reference. (The director wanted to make a romance from what I understand, that was her vision of the series was this long-winding romance, and it doesn't look like anyone sat down in the writer's room and explained to them that the last thing that would fuel Loki's story forward was romance.)

And the thing is, Waldron doesn't seem to understand Loki as a character at all, if Loki is "kind of a villain and a sh*thead" because yeah, sure, Loki can be considered that, but that's not WHO Loki is. That's what people SEE him as.

Waldron at no point references having read the scripts for the Avengers, Thor 1 or the Dark World inside this interview. This doesn't mean he hasn't seen the movies or read the screenplay, as I often hear said about him, but it is strange to me that he makes so little mention of Loki.

This man is so focused on the TVA. Despite how much of a disaster the TVA ended up being. Here's some notable quotes:

WALDRON: What did I learn? Don't write one about time travel, because it's a pain in the ass.

WALDRON: ...A foundation of what constitutes a broken time law and what doesn't, so that we could then just, which is about Loki breaking a time law, and then you have to move all that stuff as far to the background as humanly possible, because you don't want the audience focusing on the rules of time travel during your show.

I love how "Loki breaking a time law" is supposed to be the center of it all and comes off as an afterthought.

And.

"don't want the audience focusing on the rules of time travel in your show" YEAH. CAUSE IT'S GARBAGE. Maybe if he and the others had had more than a weekend (exaggeration, untrue statement) to work on how time travel works, we'd have something that didn't make me want to scream into a pillow for ten years.

WALDRON: All over our writer's room, our white boards were just covered in timelines. And it's just, "No, time travel works this way," "No, time travel works that way." That was the great challenge of our show, it was because the Time Variance Authority is an organization that literally manages and polices all of time, we had to define what time is to them and what time is in the MCU.

I think we can blame this disaster on the Russo brothers. ^

WALDRON: Those are all questions we had to ask and define for ourselves. I think that what's fun about the TVA is it takes something remarkable, like time travel, and really packages it in a very soulless, sort of bureaucratic way. That's what was exciting to me, as a writer, was to take something so magical and just make it utterly soulless. -- So what we have is a writer's room so focused on the TVA that Loki becomes a secondary concern and the lens from which we VIEW the TVA, and then it stops becoming Loki's series and starts to become the TVA's.

But no one seemed to realize this.

And also "That's what was exciting to me...was to take something so magical and make it utterly soulless" is a GREAT way to go about time travel. I also think he applies this to everything and it shows.

So again. Writer focused on the TVA. Appears to me to not care about Loki. Spends a majority of the interview discussing ANYTHING but the main lead of his show. Does not want to talk about growth or character or WHERE LOKI CAME FROM? WHY ARE YOU NOT TALKING ABOUT YOUR LEAD?

But that's okay. Because we all know that the TVA was the main character of Loki, don't we?

---

Another interesting point, I thought, was how Waldron writes relationships. I watched a review of his TV series Heels, where the reviewer came to this conclusion about the main characters:

"...And that's just what made this show so fascinating, is that…all these characters, that in some way, treat each other horribly, but in other sense do care about each other, and they're all so entwined with trying to make this thing work."

and that sounded extremely familiar. Because this is the cast of Loki. Waldron seems to have discovered his Character Formula.

Thanks. I hate it.

I just...this man can't have been a bad writer in just Loki right, and this has to be a consistent theme across all his work? And honestly, he's worked on so little that I don't know. I can't have an honest opinion of him. From what he has worked on, terrible character chemistry seems to be the general vibe. Waldron does not seem to know how to write characters that you understand why they like each other.

Hence, Loki being abused by every figure of authority in Loki, and Slyive treating him horribly, but somehow they all like each other in the end.

Because that's Loki. The TVA series, Loki on the side, getting beat up. Because he's bad.

---

DR. STRANGE 2:

Dr. Strange 2 has a similar set of problems. It was written in a rushed time frame, there was no overarching idea for a plot and where the story needed to go, Waldron was just told to do what he wanted, and Waldron didn't seem to be too focused on character arcs.

Wanda, obviously, takes a devastating hit as far as arcs go, but I wouldn't say that Dr. Strange was spared, either. The two of them go through rapid flipflopping in terms of the growth they've incurred throughout the entire MCU, and it shows. Badly.

One thing that Waldron did say that absolutely baffled me was this:

WALDRON: I became good friends with Jac Schaeffer, head writer of WandaVision, while I was writing Loki. Her and I became good pals, because we were kind of in it together and everything...So, I had the benefit of just being able to call Jac and talk to her about Wanda's character and everything, because it was really important to me that I do right by her with what she did with Wanda as a character. And also, with Lizzie, who's a friend of mine. I really worked with her and made sure, "Okay, you guys just did this incredibly intimate show about this character that grew her so much. Let's make sure that we're doing that justice and telling a fulfilling next chapter of that story."

I am so confused. Waldron honestly appears to want to do right by Wanda, but Wanda's growth from WandaVision was destroyed in Dr Strange 2 (and I want to emphasize here that Waldron made no such comment about talking to Tom Hid. or previous directors of Thor movies) so then how did Wanda end up going through such a downward spiral? Waldron wanted to do right by her, and yet???

I think the biggest problem is that Waldron doesn't have to think long term. He's almost not supposed to. He said this:

WALDRON: Well, I think one of the joys of being a writer in the Marvel world is getting to make terrible messes and leave them for your predecessors

WALDRON: For instance, you write the Loki show and then you end up writing Dr. Strange 2, having to clean up your own mess and that can be a lot of fun.

WALDRON: And it will naturally connect to the MCU and it will naturally get the MCU to where it's supposed to go, in some ways that we expect and ways that sometimes you don't expect, and I think that's part of the fun.

Waldron was given the explicit instruction to write a good Dr. Strange movie, but not a good MCU movie. Part of the reason that Phase 4 feels like a bunch of puzzle pieces from different puzzles is that it was designed to be that way. Feige is just going with the flow to see what will happen rather than having any sort of idea of where to take the series.

"It will naturally get MCU to where it's supposed to go" is one of the most hilarious statements I've ever heard, by the way. As someone who has done original writing, and planned out a series, my 200+ page document of planning, background, and worldbuilding laughs at you. (And I still don't have it all finished, because I've had MONTHS to work on this). Maybe. Maybe they want to try and not publish the first draft of phase 4?

Waldron wasn't told to make a movie about Wanda, or how to progress Wanda's character in a way that made sense post her growth. And any problems that were there they blamed on the Darkhold, because it's someone else's problem to clean up. Very neat. Very good planning.

---

So overall, I don't think that MCU writers are proud of their ignorance, I just don't think that they see a problem with it. Writers are told to do what they want to, without there being any plans for character growth or plot advancement, so they do. They put whatever they want out on the sandbox and wait for someone else to clean it up.

Feige seems fully onboard with this plan. So the real problem, I think, is the fact that MCU is expecting writers to come up with complex, interconnected plots in twenty weeks, and the writer's don't have the time to write consistent character arcs, they just tell a flashy story because at least you get something out there.

I honestly don't imagine Secret Wars will be any different. Waldron has shown that he really really enjoys writing stories, but not characters. This is not to say that we should blame all of this on Waldron, because I don't think it's really his fault. I think it's more the fact that he's the byproduct of a system set to fail.

The writer's ignorance is someone else's problem in MCU, apparently. But don't worry. This will naturally get MCU where it's supposed to go. Just tilt your head and squint a little. Then close one eye. And then the other. Now you can see what brilliance Phase 4 is clearly.

#anti michael waldron #michael waldron #anon #answered #i apologize for my thesis #mcu #mcu meta #waldron #anti waldron #anti mcu #mcu critical

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sweetcloverheart · 10 months

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Clover Rants Miraculously: No Victory For The Simple Soul

(Full disclosure - this is a vent post more than analysis so don’t expect anything deep)

I feel the S5 finale highlights the biggest and most glaring issue that this and the last three seasons have had - Marinette (and by extension Adrien and the rest) not being allowed meaningful victories.

The entire point of a finale battle (specifically one that has your main villain giving his Swan Song) is that the character gains something at the end of it. Even if the battle ends with the loss of a friend or the MC no longer having access to their extra helpful powerup/superform, it’s not supposed to be a complete defeat - they’re supposed to learn something and resolve themselves to do better, or gain a new insight into the villain and go investigate their new lead, or promise to never allow another loss like what they faced again.

Miraculous doesn’t have that in their finale battles. All of them always end with Mari and co taking the bigger loss compared to Gabemoth, and it’s never in a way that’s used to either foster character growth or drive towards a meaningful story development. In fact, the loss only seems to happen because the writers need them to lose so Gabe looks like a bigger threat than he is, and then do nothing with it. They do it all the time -

Miracle Queen - Fu’s removal causes Mari considerable stress over having to do Guardian work solo now and needed to reach out to the temps more often as she unconsciously pushes Chat away. Aside from Alya and the Anti-Akuma charms (which are then rendered worthless by the introduction of Mega-Akuma), Mari gets nothing out of his departure except having to accept she can’t date while being a superhero (unless it’s Adrien, and even that still has issues the show won’t address) and constantly having to babysit the Kwami. She doesn’t even get help in the form of backup mentor!Su Han.There’s nothing positive gained out of having to deal with no longer having a mentor to guide her, and eventually, the loss of him is forgotten all together.

Risk/Strikeback - Marinette losing all the Kwami after getting tricked by Felix gets her a mental breakdown, a broken heart after trying to pursue Chat, and even more stress as she basically has the lives and freedom of three characters shoved into her hands with no one able to help her. She doesn’t gain a new power or new ally like last time either, which just serves to further put her against the wall. Hell, her eventual “life saving powerup” doesn’t even come from being directly cornered by the main villain, but from being faced by the spoiled brat bully he’s manipulating and deciding “Actually we aren’t detransforming anymore”. Meanwhile, the peak of her “character arc” for her civilian life is highly reliant on a newly introduced character that wasn’t even built up to and a recton episode that just serves to put every questionable act the writers had her engage in in a bad light just so they can foist responsibility of whatever flaws the fans complained about onto another character (as opposed to just going “yeah, but I got better” and moving on). She lost so much, but got very little out of it in the end.

Even when taking down her minor antags, Marinette gets nothing out of the deal - “Revolution” had her finally get the chance shut down Chloe for good and show she had no power over her, but by that point Chloe had become kind of pathetic in terms of villainy (not to mention her being the pawn of a bigger scheme that allowed the real masterminds to flee judgement) and Mari’s been dunking on her since episode 1 anyways, so it really wasn’t all that satisfying from a cathartic standpoint, nor does she gain anything character wise. Meanwhile, Lila getting exposed did nothing to really impede or harm her, and now she’s out in the wild with her 800+ fake families and the Butterfly miraculous, so what was really even the point of Marinette’s bathroom plan?

And then there’s “Recreation” and Gabriel - who gets to have his wish, his comatose wife alive, his son no longer (rightfully) hating his guts, the city adoring him, a goddamn statue, being credited for the city turning into a “utopia”, and all sorts of praises and perks he didn’t even earn/deserve, all at the small cost of his death and the plot forcing Marinette to keep her mouth shut for him. Gabriel gets to have everything he’s been throwing a tantrum over for 5 full seasons, while Marinette once again gets nothing (actually no, she did gain something - tons and tons of fandom salt aimed at her for the writers choices) as she’s forced to take on the burden of hiding his crimes.

and it just makes me feel we wasted our time with the story because seriously, what was the point? Why have Marinette lose when this should have been the point where all her losses so far helped her achieve victory when it matters most? Why let Gabriel win and reward him for all his abuses and crimes when the entire story seemed to be building up to getting him to either accept Emilie’s death or be forced to face the consequences of his choices? Why be building up that conflict between Adrien and his father about his wants and needs vs Gabriel’s constantly escalating expectations and not have them confront eachother in the end? Why focus so much on the idea of Mari finally getting the butterfly away from Gabriel if you’re just going to just give it to a new (old) villain and render the entire 5 season long battle for it pointless?

What was even the point in Marinette suffering all those defeats if you weren’t even going to let her win at the end, or at least stop Gabriel from getting what he wanted?

I’ll admit the leaks didn’t raise my expectations for this season but DAMNIT, after seeing them actually change stuff like Andre terrible dialogue in “Collusion” (though what he ends up saying is worse somehow), I expected something to prove it was going to be worth it in the end - and yet just like Mari, I’m venomed in the back by the show for daring having some expectation for them to actually care about making their Heroine’s suffering actually matter!

#Clover Rants Miraculously #ML Salt

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wednesdayorwhatever · 1 year

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Okay, so, let's talk about Larissa Weems's scream at the Rave'N, shall we? Because I think it reveals so much about her personality.

When I watched that scene of the paint dripping down from the ceiling for the first time I was so surprised by Weems's reaction!

Because at the beginning of the show, we get to know Weems as this person that seems to be put together and controlled. She seems like someone who is calm and clear-headed and collected at all times.

For example how she never responds to Wednesday's provocations and always seems to be able to handle her:

And also her overall demeanor. In the first episodes she mostly seems relaxed and always calm and nice and you would somehow expect her to be able to handle stressful situations.

But then the incident at the Rave'N happens.

And because of the way she was portrayed up to this point I would have thought that she would stay clear-headed and that she would immediately try to calm down the students and find a way to control the situation.

Instead - she explodes! She screams at the top of her lungs and seems to be even more out of control than most of the students:

Before that scene, she is always put together and controlled and then something like this happens, which is, to be fair, inconvenient but it's... not the end of the world and she has a complete breakdown and screams at the top of her lungs! She breaks down and doesn't seem to find a way to calm herself down again.

I think this reaction gives this A-personality vibe when you're trying to hold it all together and everything has to be perfect and nothing can go wrong (she literally says to Thornhill "we can't afford a single misstep tonight") and then something unfortunate happens and all the stress and the pressure that you were trying to suppress just breaks out and you're having a mental breakdown. In my opinion, only a person that is under a lot of stress and a lot of pressure can have a breakdown like this because of a situation that is, again, unfortunate but not the end of the world.

It's just interesting that she has these two sides: When everything goes smoothly she seems to be nice and relaxed and friendly but as soon as some minor inconvenience happens it immediately becomes obvious how tense she actually is under that smiling facade. At the Rave'N she can't keep it together even though it would be her job as the headmistress to stay calm and as a viewer you would expect her to be clear-headed in a situation like that. It's what makes her so interesting and intriguing to me. The fact that there is so much going on under the surface. There seems to be a complex and maybe even difficult personality underneath. A personality full of contradictions and surprises. And that's what makes her so interesting (among so many other things).

Seriously, I wish I could relive the moment I saw that scene for the first time. I absolutely LOVED her reaction because it was so forceful and surprising and unhinged. I remember that my jaw literally dropped. The way she stands there and is smiling and then the paint starts dripping down on her and her facade crumbles and then breaks down completely and she can't hold it back - I love it. It is powerful. There is something about women expressing emotions this strongly that I just find mesmerizing.

#wednesday #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday addams #jenna ortega #analysis

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resowrites · 1 year

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The Fight Before Christmas (part 1) - oneshot.

Summary: A series of unfortunate events and a breakdown in communication lead to trouble for Henry and his girlfriend…

Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!OC

Warnings: angst, some fluff, relationship difficulties/argument, mention of minor injury/blood, dialogue heavy, language, pet names, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.

WC: 2642

A/N: Hi folks, this is the most I’ve written in forever, if I have time I’ll try and upload the second part before Christmas. Don’t worry, all will be revealed and all is not lost for the pair! As ever, let me know your thoughts! - R x

My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!

The Fight Before Christmas (part 1) - oneshot.

"Wow, look at you." She looked up from the handbag she'd been searching through, tucking her newly curled hair behind her ear as she did so.

"Yeah? You think I look nice?"

"You look bloody stunning, I've always loved that dress on you." She automatically smoothed the silk fabric over her thighs and grimaced slightly. Henry smiled sadly as he bent to kiss her forehead. He'd never known a woman so beautiful yet completely unconvinced of it.

"Well I don't know about stunning, but hopefully it'll do the job." Henry swallowed.

You know you still haven't told me what today is all about…"

"What? Oh, just a couple of meetings followed by a presentation." She was chucking everything but the kitchen sink into her bag while going through God knows how many more mental checklists.

"Will you be meeting your new boss? Here, have some coffee… do you want toast?"

"Thanks but I can't, I'm already late. Don't worry about dinner, I won't be back in time. Good luck for today darling." She quickly scooped everything into her arms, stopping only to give him a brief kiss on the cheek.

"Wait, hang on! Let me drive you, and you've got to have something to eat." Henry was already pouring the coffee from her favourite mug into a thermos instead.

"I'm fine, and you need to stay here or you won't get back in time."

"Well you'll only be two squares over from my team's office, perhaps we could meet for lunch?" He followed her into the hallway as she began frantically searching for her keys.

"Darling I won't have time, now go get ready or you'll be late as well."

"Wait!"

"What?! For God's sake, I don't have time for this today!" It was only then that she saw the concern in Henry’s eyes. "What is it, darling?" He bit his lip.

"It's nothing, really. I just wanted to know if you're okay with me discussing us in my interview today…" She stared at him for a moment before twisting off her promise ring and placing it on the sideboard. Henry had noticed her fidgeting with it on and off for the past week.

"Yes, that's fine. Just be mindful of what you say."

"Of course… and why have you taken your ring off?' She turned around, her hand still gripping the front door.

"What? Oh, it's been rubbing a bit. Think it needs resizing. Right, can I go now?" He shifted awkwardly.

"Yeah, it’s just…" Henry sighed and rubbed his brow. She crossed her arms, growing more and more impatient. "It's nothing, have a good day darling." She smiled briefly, gave him a quick kiss, and shot out the door.

Henry did his best to get through the rest of the day, but his mind kept replaying the events of that morning. He'd tried texting her but her phone was turned off. In truth, he felt things had been somewhat off between them since he gave her the promise ring. It hadn't helped that he'd then spent the last month doing back-to-back press. Against his better judgement, he'd also looked up her new boss. His LinkedIn profile was typically distinguished but didn't reveal what he ultimately needed to know. Unfortunately, his Instagram did nothing to reassure him. In fact, it made his stomach drop. Picture after picture showed the tall, handsome stranger on plenty of exciting trips without a girlfriend in sight. A man like him could give a woman the one thing he couldn't - stability.

***

It was gone 11 pm by the time she trudged through the front door. She sighed when she heard Henry calling from the kitchen. All she wanted was some time alone to gather her thoughts. "There you are gorgeous girl, I was starting to get worried…" He kissed her a bit too hard on the lips as she dumped all of her stuff onto the counter.

"Sorry, you know what the traffic's like. How was your interview?" She wasted no time in opening a bottle of wine and grabbing the largest glass she could find.

"Yeah, went pretty well… but I'm more interested in your day. How did it go?" She'd already sunk her first glass and was pouring herself a second.

"Fine. I'm tired though, gunna go for a quick bath."

"Hang on, don't you want something to eat?" Henry eyed her worriedly as she downed her second glass and resigned simply to take the rest of the bottle with her.

"Thanks but I'm not really hungry."

"Well, don't drink in the bath if you're tired. It's not safe." She huffed and turned to exit the kitchen. "Hey, wait a minute. I was just concerned, that's all. What's going on?" She sighed again as he spun her around.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

"And that's the second time you've said as much. Come on, I'll make you something to eat and you can tell me all about it." She shoved Henry's hands from her shoulders.

"I've already said I don't want anything. Now please leave me be, I'm exhausted."

"Fine, I was only trying to help. You'd go bloody mental if I sunk half a bottle of wine the minute I got home."

"What are you talking about? No I wouldn't, and I've only had two glasses for God's sake!" He crossed his arms.

"Don't get angry at me, I'm not the one being secretive."

"What do you mean?"

"Well here you are all dressed up, right after he calls you at home and you spend an hour flirting with him!" She stared at Henry confused. "Your new boss!" The penny finally dropped.

"Oh for fuck's sake, he's new to the company… he was calling everyone! And I have to schmooze him a bit but if you think that's flirting, God help me!"

"Well excuse me, but I wasn't the one dressed to the nines for a day in the office! And why were you back so late? Going for drinks no doubt?" She was about to blow her top.

"Well if you'd actually listened know-all, you'd know it wasn't just a 'day in the office.' I was giving an important presentation. And who the hell are you to question me?! You literally get paid to kiss, pretend to have sex with and God knows what else with other women! That's when you're not spending the rest of your time talking about yourself. Now, get out of my way." But he stepped between her and the kitchen doorway.

"No, wait. Why didn't you tell me you were uncomfortable with that part of my job?" She returned to the counter and propped herself against it, wearily massaging her head.

"I'm not uncomfortable with it. To be honest, I'm not worried about you flirting on set or even if… it goes beyond that. I mean I can't pretend the latter isn't hurtful, but I'd rather be pragmatic." Henry's stomach turned to water.

"Oh my God… you're cheating on me with him aren't you?!"

"What?!"

"It's why you've been distant, taken your ring off… how long's it been going on?!"

"Don't you raise your voice at me! And nothing is going on between me and my boss for fuck's sake! As for the ring, don't try and convince me you didn't want us to get married just for the sake of it…"

"What on earth are you on about?!" She straightened herself up, one hand still gripping the wine bottle.

"Oh please, that's why you wanted to talk about me in your interview. You're nearly forty and we've been together for years. It looks bad on you if we're still unmarried, like you’re the one who refuses to take that step!"

"Oh my God, do you know how ridiculous that sounds?! And don't try to distract from the fact you just permitted me to cheat! How dare you even suggest that's what I get up to?! For God's sake, you've visited me on sets and been around the people who work with me. But I'm an actor, right? So I'm automatically an arsehole. You wanna see my phone? Here." He slid it across the counter.

"… What's that meant to prove?" Henry stared at her dumbfounded. "Look, I really can't do this tonight. I'm not cheating, that I can assure you. Now please let me go." She tried and failed to push past him.

"No. We're partners, we're supposed to work through stuff together. Why can't you just tell me what's going on?"

"Because as I've kept saying, I'm tired and need some space."

"Oh please, you know I'm more than happy to give you that. But we both know you won't come to me tomorrow, the day after, or the day after that. All you do is bury everything and hope it goes away!" She rolled her eyes and took another swig of wine, yanking the bottle back when Henry tried to take it from her.

"Just stop it, alright? Not everything can be fixed. I appreciate the support, I really do, but I'm not a child. If I tell you I can manage by myself, it's because I can.

"And what's that supposed to mean? You know I want to share in whatever's troubling you. Or do you just not want to tell me because you think I won't help?

"Henry, I'm begging you. Please stop."

"No! Because this is exactly what I'm talking about, stop trying to make this about me when it's really about us." He rubbed his forehead, muttering something under his breath, "God it's getting out of control…"

"What is?!"

"Your trust issues!" Her eyebrows shot up.

"Oh my God Henry, I don't have trust issues!"

"Yes, you do! I mean I’m obviously not doing a brilliant job reassuring you, but it's like you can't accept that I genuinely love you. It's why you wouldn't marry me!"

"… That's it, I'm leaving."

"What? Don't be stupid, where do you expect to go at this time of night?!”

"Well, I'm not gunna stay here and keep pandering to your fucking ego!" She slammed the bottle down onto the counter, accidentally smashing it apart. All Henry could see was the blood now spilling out everywhere.

"Oh God, what did you do?! Is there glass in it? No, don't pull it out! Oh my God, let me see it, now."

"Henry, I'm fine--" but he'd already cupped her hand with a clean tea towel and was turning it towards the overhead light.

"Shh, move your fingers for me. Okay, it looks like there's no nerve damage but that cut won't stop bleeding. Come on, I'll take you to get it stitched. Just let me grab some more towels." She whipped her hand back, wrapped the already blood-soaked towel around it, and made for the stairs.

"What are you doing?! There isn't a hotel for miles, besides its nearly midnight and ten below out there!" She'd managed to heave a small suitcase onto their bed one-handed. Henry slammed it shut. "For God's sake stop it, you're not leaving!"

"Why not? You're quick enough to leave me." He backed away, shocked at the spite in her voice.

"… Then I won't, and I won’t ever again if you don't want me to." She scoffed.

"Yeah, well, that's easy to promise when you know I'd never let you do such a thing." Henry caught her by the uninjured hand just as she finished chucking clothes into the case.

"Now you listen to me, you're all I've ever wanted and will ever need. Whatever's going on, I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

"That's just it, though. Nothing can be done. Things are what they are." His heart started thumping.

"So that's it, is it? You're just going to walk out on me, on us?!" She sighed and automatically gripped the towel around her other hand.

"I didn't say that, did I?! But right now I need some time to think."

"Please. Please, don't do this." Henry rushed to her side of the bed as tears began streaming down her face.

"No, get off me. Please, just get away from me!"

"For God's sake, what the hell's happened? Did someone hurt you?!"

"What?! No!"

"Well then can you at least tell me why you're prepared to walk out of here and fucking destroy me?!"

"I'm sorry Henry, but everything's too much right now and I can't cope with any more!" She sunk down on the edge of the bed and sobbed piteously. He crouched down in front of her and spoke gently as he stroked the top of her knees.

"Look at me, darling. We'll talk more when you're ready, but you need to stay here tonight where you'll be safe and I can look after you. If you still want to leave, I'll take you anywhere you want first thing tomorrow, okay? Now let me clean you up…" Henry lifted her from the bed and attempted another look at her hand. She wiped more tears from her face, gave him one last kiss, and stroked his cheek. She then fled the room before she broke down any further. Henry had never run after her so quickly. "Ollie?! Oh, God… Ollie! Ollie don't do this!" But it was too late, a taxi had already pulled out of the driveway.

***

Q: So we've discussed what's next for you career-wise but I was wondering how that impacts you personally. How do you think you've managed to juggle your relationship alongside the demands of what you do? Most actors aren't quite as successful…

A: I mean, this will always be a pretty bizarre life. I'm either being told whatever I want to hear or ripped to shreds. There's no baseline, no real normality. But that's what I have with my partner. She's my safe person.

Q: It must be hard though, I mean no relationship is perfect?

A: I'd say ours is pretty close. I'm not the easiest man to be with, add in what I do and she could easily have run for the hills a long time ago. To be honest I never really saw myself settling down. Not because I didn't want to, but because I didn't think I'd find someone willing to put up with it all indefinitely.

Q: I imagine having such an involved fanbase doesn't help?

A: It's just par for the course these days. Social media's changed a lot of things. But most fans are respectful of the fact we'd rather live that part of our lives privately. I mean she's a real person with a real job, the consequences of her attending premieres, etc. are not what they are for me. It's why she'd rather keep away from that side of things.

Q: It seems there are two schools of thought, yours and the one which says it's better to have everything out in the open so as to not inadvertently fan the flames. It must be tempting to want to set the record straight at times?

A: To be honest, I couldn't really give a shit. I'm nearly forty. No matter what I or the people around me say or do, there will always be those jumping to the wrong conclusions and spreading bollocks. But I'll still be coming home to her and enjoying our life together.

Q: And what will that future look like in the longer term?

A: More of the same, hopefully. We're very happy with things as they are.

Q: You do seem very settled and content.

A: That's because I am. I'll never lose sight of the fact I'm a very, very lucky man. Every day I get to do what I always dreamed of, then go home to the person I love above all else. What more could I possibly want?

To be continued…

To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.

@marytudorbrandon @luclittlepond

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill imagine

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noodleblade · 9 months

Note

what do you think would happen if instead of knock out having to repair a beat down and broken breakdown, it’s the other way round? knock out gets seriously injured and breakdown has to be the one to repair him this time.

(also i love your writing, you do such a good job of getting the characters to feel like themselves!! it’s so cool ^^)

ngl, this ask got away from me. I probably could have answered it in a few paragraphs but I wrote out a little fic instead soooooo hope you enjoy that:3 I had too many ideas so tone-wise...it might be a bit of a mess x__x (BUT THANK YOU!!!! YOU ARE SO KIND!)

ao3 link x

Breakdown’s frame moved on pure instinct. He held Knock Out close to his chassis, careful not to jostle the medic too much as he rushed down the halls of the Nemesis. The curious vehicons stepped out of his way as he barreled through, making a beeline to medbay.

He couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten back onto the Nemesis. The answer was at some point he had demanded a groundbridge and had raced in, bolting out of the command bridge until he reached the medbay. All of that had been done without thought, his processor entirely focused on the unconscious red speedster in his arms. As soon as he had laid his optics on Knock Out, crumpled in the barren red clay, he had jumped into action, scooping up his partner and running on autopilot.

When the medbay doors opened, Breakdown laid his partner on the first medberth he laid optics on. He did so with the utmost care, making sure he didn’t further damage his already injured frame. Breakdown paid extra attention to Knock Out’s arm, cradled over the medic’s chest as it was only held together by three small wires.

Breakdown didn’t let the grim sight affect him. He couldn’t . Energon was still gushing from the sliced cables and Knock Out’s red finish was losing its luster by the klik. He had to move quickly. Stabilize the medic at the very least. From there… well, he’d figure it out. That was a problem for future Breakdown. Right now, the only thing that mattered was making sure Knock Out didn’t lose any more precious energon.

He at least knew what to do there. Breakdown may not be trained as a medic in the slightest, but he had always assisted Knock Out in the medbay. He may not know what each precise reading of a spark monitor meant, but he knew how to hook up the machine to a patient's spark chamber and processor port. He might not have studied cable repair and restoration, but he knew how to clamp up the leaking ones to prevent further energon loss. With these skills in hand, he moved quickly, all the while keeping an optic on Knock Out in the hopes his precious medic would wake.

He kept his panic at bay as he worked through the mental list of stabilizing Knock Out, his patient. He tried not to let that thought trigger his panic attack and ducked his helm down as he carefully attached each monitor. One for spark rate, one for energon and fluid levels, one for processor activity and a few more he didn’t even know what they tracked. Knock Out would know when he woke up. Knock Out would be able to fix this. Right?

Breakdown looked down at Knock Out’s nearly severed shoulder. The bright red plating was stained in sticky, tacky energon and beyond that was a mess of slashed cables and striped wires. He did his best to make sure the remaining wires weren’t pulled taunt and to keep the loose limb secure and stable. Beyond that…Breakdown was at a complete and utter loss.

He wasn’t a medic, neither by construction nor by trade. Yes , he assisted Knock Out, but it was always with Knock Out leading and Breakdown happily following. His skills had always been centered around breaking and destruction, not repair and mending. Knock Out was the medic. Breakdown just followed orders and did minor cleaning . His paperwork as Knock Out’s “assistant” had just been a simple ruse to keep them together! He wasn’t equipped - physically, mentally, emotionally- to deal with this!

Unfortunately, as it stood, Breakdown may be the closest mech the Nemesis had to a medic with Knock Out out of commission. It had been the whole reason he and Knock Out had been called to the Nemesis in the first place. And instead of realizing the inherent value of having only one capable medic, Decepticon High Command sent him out for scouting missions to fight the Autobots and putting his life on the line and now-

Breakdown swallowed the panic, its sticky static trying to cling to his intake as he took a heavy vent in and then out. There were no other options. Breakdown would just have to do his best. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t picked up on some things while working under Knock Out. At the very least, Breakdown knew the basics. It may not be enough to fully reattach Knock Out’s hanging arm, but he could hopefully stabilize and stop the bleeding enough for when Knock Out woke, making patching him up all the easier. He had to believe in that, focus his mind on that task and not the ever mounting pressure and panic threatening his servos to start rattling.

Hasilty, he tried to recall Knock Out’s instructions. Knock Out loved to talk his way through operations and Breakdown had always recorded his speeches, if not for the information, than just because he loved hearing the medic ramble no matter the usbject. It turns out, it might be the thing saving Knock Out’s life.

“First Step, dear Breakdown: Stabilize. It’s not really advisable to have your patient dying on the medberth, but the clean up is really the worst part.”

Hearing Knock Out, even over the faded, tinny recording soothed the tremoring of Breakdown’s servos. He took a deep exvent in, as he listened to a Knock Out from long, long ago casually list off necessary stabilization and patient admittance procedure.

“You want to make sure there are no active leaks. Usually a cable clamp is a satisfactory temporary measure. If its cracks within the tanks, a stop leak additive can be introduced to the fuel tank to coagulate the energon to prevent further leaks until the tank has been restored. It's important to make sure there is still energon flowing through the patient, otherwise the frame’s nanites cannot begin the self-regeneration process.”

Breakdown had already clamped off the energon leak and Knock Out didn’t appear to have any other active leaks.

He quickly sped through the next few steps of Knock Out’s stabilization steps. They covered more severe measures for burns, crushed fuel lines, malware corrosion. Breakdown hoped he didn’t need to worry about those, but from what he could glean, the majority of the damage was from the nearly severed arm.

“Great,” Knock Out’s recording praised. The tone was warm, familiar, reserved for Breakdown alone. It shouldn’t make his spark spin so rapidly it made his chest burn but it did. Everything Knock Out did had that effect on him. “ Now, we are going to want to do a system assessment and diagnostic.”

As soon as the words whistled through his audials, Breakdown felt his spark sink into the depths of his chassis.

While Breakdown knew the basics of patient intake and quick patches, the realm of actual, professional grade care was above his knowledge base. Knock Out could take one glance at an offset wing and know the issue was a simple alignment or see a shattered knee joint and know the exact reconstruction configuration for that specific frame type. Breakdown surely couldn’t look as a nearly dismembered arm and know how to pop it back into place.

Breakdown stared at Knock Out and the mess of his shoulder in utter dismay. He didn’t know what to do. Sure, he helped Knock Out occasionally in the medbay but that was in the vein of passing equipment or fetching medicine. It certainly wasn’t anything more than that. He wasn’t a forged medic, he wasn’t even a trained nurse. They just put that on paper so they would make sure they got to stay on the same ship together.

He needed a real medic. Someone that knew what they were talking about.

An idea…struck Breakdown, less like a bolt of lightning and more like a creeping, dawning dread. He quickly pulled up his comm link and enabled the frequency scrambler.

Ratchet stared at the anonymous comm link with a chill of dread rolling down his spinal strut.

The frequency was concealed and somehow managed to get through the several encrypted firewalls the Autobots had set up to protect their network from Decepticon interference. Evidently, more protective measures would need to be implemented. Without opening it, all Ratchet could see was the scrambled frequency and the single word subject: help .

Hesitantly, Ratchet opened the message. It was short, curt.

::Need your medical advice. Call me. Emergency.::

He frowned deeply. It wasn’t from any of his fellow Autobots and it wasn’t from Starscream. Even Wheeljack, despite his transient and “neutral” status, was in their contact database. There weren’t that many Cybertronians in range that it could be, leaving only a handful of Decepticons possibly on the end of the link.

Before Ratchet could debate about calling, his anonymous messenger seemed to lose patience and called him . The ringing echoed in the quiet Autobot base, everyone out scouting and the kids thankfully at their homes, leaving Ratchet alone. Curiosity won out at the end as he accepted the call.

The comm link connected but there was no immediate answer. A faint, quiet buzzing met him, telling him the call connected but the caller was choosing not to speak.

Gruffly, Ratchet spoke. “Hello?”

“Uh,” came a hesitant, deep register “hey, Doc.”

Ratchet blinked. The voice was not un familiar, but Ratchet wasn’t completely sure he could place it. The image of an angry bulky blue bot came to mind but...

“This is-“

“Breakdown. Yeah, I don’t really have time to chat. Just need your help for a second. I’ll owe you or whatever.”

Ratchet narrowed his optics. A myriad of questions rolled through the medic’s helm: How did a Decepticon bruiser get his personal comm link? How long has his information been available to the Decepticons? What other holes in their Network were there that any low-ranking Decepticon could just access willy nilly? What business did Breakdown even have with Ratchet of all mechs?

“Help with what? ”

Rather than reply, an incoming video call request came in from the same comm frequency.

Was this a threat? An attempt at blackmail or ransom? Oh no. Had the Decepticons taken one of his mech’s prisoners? Or what if it was one of the kids or-

Before his thought could even finish, Ratchet accepted the call only to be met by the (goreish) image of a nearly severed arm coated in thick, tacky energon. Several fuel lines had been slashed and nearly every wire snapped, snagged and frayed.

“Oh Primus, what is this?” Ratchet cried out.

“A gift from your wrecker, courtesy of his bombs,” Breakdown snarled, anger and the edge of panic in his voice. “Just tell me how I fix him.”

“You have a medic, don’t you?” Ratchet sneered, the image of the flashy speedster conjured in his processor.

“Whose arm do you think this is?” Breakdown hissed.

Oh.

Upon closer examination, Ratchet could see the telltale edges of sleek red plating, now chipped and scratched, a sickly gray sheen taking over the usual glimmering finish. Based on the relative silence over the comm link, Ratchet had to assume Knock Out was, well, knocked out . Otherwise, he could only imagine the absolute fit the other medic would throw in knowing his precious frame was in the hypothetical servos of Ratchet .

“Why would I help you?” Ratchet asked.

Doing so would only be giving aid to the enemy . With Knock Out out of commission, even for a little bit, that would allow the Autobots to make some moves, finally make actual concrete steps into ending this war and defeating Megatron. Why would he help? Why would he go against his own cause and the great good for Cybertronians-

“Didn’t you take some oaths?” Breakdown asked, his tone veering from distressed to disgust.

Well. He did have a point. The inner fires that had been burning in Ratchet’s chest extinguished with one fell-swoop as he let out a heavy exvent.

Breakdown continued, seemingly taking Ratchet’s defeated sigh as acceptance. “I’m not asking you to actually do it. I’m not bridging you here and he’s not going to be at the mercy of the Autobot. I’ll take care of it-”

“You aren’t a medic!”

“Our only medic won’t have an arm unless I do something,” Breakdown snapped back. A shuddering exvent whistled over the frequency before the normally brutish mech whispered a quiet, desperate, “Please?”

It shouldn’t make Ratchet’s resolve waiver. Yet, Ratchet found himself soften at the quiet plea. He knew all too well the pain of watching a loved one suffer and as much as he may hate Knock Out, he didn’t relish the idea of being one of the factors in his ill fated injury. He knew the bitter taste of not being able to fix, mend, help .

“It’s going to require surgery,” Ratchet said with a grimace. It looked like Wheeljack’s bombs not only nearly severed the limb but removed the surrounding plating’s protective coating. “It’s not something I can just walk you through. A repair like this is complicated, meddling in it without expertise could cause even more damage.”

“Can’t we just do a quick patch? To make sure it doesn’t get worse? Something?”

It was odd hearing Breakdown so… panicked . Ratchet, while never quite having the fortune to face off against the Decepticon, he certainly heard many tales from Bulkhead about him, none never quite painted him in such a soft, caring light. Then again, the risk of loss made everyone reveal their true selves.

“I suppose we can do some light repair work and splint up the rest. Is he suffering from any other injuries?” If it is just his arm, Knock Out should be able to handle the repair, or at least instruct his partner in patching it up. If he really was a medic worth his expensive, ostentatious finish.

“Not that I could tell. Just scuffed up and some dents. I can buff those out later.”

“How thoughtful,” Ratchet grumbled. “Right, let’s get this over with quickly.” No point in becoming overly familiarized with Breakdown. Ratchet did not intend for this to be a repeat venture. Judging by Breakdown’s general disposition, he didn’t seem to be either. “Okay, first zoom me in on the wire connections and let me see what we are working with. You clamp those cables yourself?”

There was a distant grunt as Breakdown slowly turned the video feed to show every angle of the injured arm. “I’m his assistant. Nurse. Whatever. I help K.O. in the medbay often enough to how to clamp some slaggin’ cables. My helm’s hard but it’s not full of lead.”

Ratchet didn’t want to say he was impressed but…well, it wasn’t like any of his mechs knew how to clamp cables or even what cable clamps were.

“They look good,” Ratchet muttered the slight praise. He quickly coughed, clearing his intake as Ratchet shifted to a more authoritative, professional tone. “Alright, does Knock Out have anything for splints? Tension cables, mesh tape, any medgrade solvent. You are going to want to keep it clean to avoid rust infections. Oh, and nanite gel will be useful as well for doing some minor restorative work to the light damaged cables…”

Breakdown wasn’t sure how long had passed before Knock Out’s optics flickered on. Warm, red glowed in the dimly light medbay as the medic slowly took in his situation. There was…a strange look on his partner’s face. Breakdown leaned closer as Knock Out slowly looked around. It seemed to take the speedster a moment before his optics landed on Breakdown.

“Medbay?” he asked, his tone…unsure. Off.

Worry immediately crashed over him. Breakdown quickly scanned the console monitors but by his limited knowledge, everything looked correct. Ratchet had even confirmed so when Breakdown had shown him all the readings. All Knock Out’s meters were stabilized, his energon levels were satisfactory and even his plating had started to lose the gray sheen, familiar bright red peeking through.

Oh Primus, what if his processor took damage. Breakdown had been so focused on the mangled arm, he hadn’t even considered damage to his helm. Breakdown barely knew how to apply the temporary welds even with an experienced medic walking him through it. Processor damage though . That wasn’t even Knock Out’s specialty. Breakdown had learned everything he had from his partner and he had done a basic helm check. No dents, no scraps. The virus detector found nothing.

“Yeah, K.O. You got hit. How’re you feelin’? In any pain?”

“Nope,” Knock Out let the sound pop from his lips. A little giggle followed which was very un-Knock Out. “I feel great .”

Looked like the anesthesia was still cycling through his systems. Breakdown had hooked up the machine by muscle memory. The machine itself had little use, no injury brought into the medbay really needed more than a mild numb agent. The last time machine had been used was when Megatron had been comatose-

Scrap. In his haste to hook up Knock Out to the machine and to take care of the energon leaks, he hadn’t even thought to recalibrate the machine for Knock Out’s frame. Breakdown swallowed the rising panic of knowing Knock Out’s systems were currently cycling through a Megatron-sized dose of anesthesia. The dosage for a mech nearly double, if not triple Knock Out’s capacity.

He had half the mind to call Ratchet back. He was halfway through enabling the scrambler when Knock Out let out a happy, content sigh.

It…didn’t look like it was having any adverse effects. Sure, Knock Out seemed a little out of it, but if that’s all, maybe he could hold off on reaching back out to the Autobot medic. He didn’t want to test his luck. He didn’t know what would happen if Megatron found him in communication with the Autobots. For any reason.

“Happy to hear it,” Breakdown said, thankful that as much as this whole situation was a slaggin’ mess, at least he wasn’t in pain. There was still that dazed look in Knock Out’s optics and a looseness in his limbs that Breakdown hoped was just a temporary symptom of the anesthesia.

“You patched me up?” asked Knock Out with a soft, lofty laugh. The sound shouldn’t peak his anxiety but he’d never , in all the vorns they had known each other, ever heard Knock Out giggle . “Where d’you learn all that?” He was beaming, all too proud for a mech that nearly lost his entire arm.

Breakdown felt nauseated by the vast contradiction of utter adoration or deep, spark-aching worry. However, despite both of these, he could not burst Knock Out’s bubble that in truth he had called the ornery Autobot medic for help.

“Only from the best,” he murmured.

Lazily Knock Out’s optics dragged down his frame, lingering with a small pout at every scratch and dent he spied along the way. It ended at his shoulder joint, which even Breakdown had to admit, didn’t look all that much better with the temporary splints than it had looked just hanging from those scant few wires.

“‘S not bad,” Knock Out murmured, his voice slightly slurred and sleepy. “Aiming for my gig?”

“Not sure my shoddy work is gonna pass any examinations,” Breakdown responded softly, holding Knock Out’s uninjured servo in-between his own. “It’s a mess. You’re going to have to help me clean up whatever I fragged up.”

“Mmmm,” Knock Out hummed, optics unfocused and slightly dim. “Not sure I have the capacity to give instruction now.”

“Just rest,” Breakdown lifted the clawed servo to his lips, speaking directly into the metal. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, silly?” Knock Out slurred, digits wiggling playfully but oh so weakly between his palms. “You fixed me up.”

“Knock Out-”

“Shhhhh,” the drowsy medic hushed, clawed digit clumsily landed across Breakdown’s lips. “The doctor is speaking.” A sloppy, drug induced smile crawled across his lips plates. “One medical professional to another. Besides-” Knock Out dropped his voice to a soft whisper “-you took care of me. That’s all I could ever ask of you.”

Breakdown swallowed the knot of emotion rising up his intake. He pressed another kiss to Knock Out’s finger before gently placing his servo back onto the medberth.

“Leaving?” Knock Out asked quietly as Breakdown stood. It made the large mech pause. It wasn’t often he heard his partner so weak, so vulnerable.

“Just going to clean up.”

“That can wait. Come back here.” There was a slight pout on the speedster’s face. “You know an important aspect of patient care is…” The words failed him suddenly, his pout turning into a confused frown.

“Bedside manner?”

“Yes. Yes, yes. Exactly.”

Breakdown slowly eased himself back into the seat, his spark warming as the smile blossomed on Knock Out’s face once more. His arm flopped out of the berth to reach Breakdown but it seemed his fine motor skills were too lax to do much than hang limply in the space between them.

“Okay, K.O.” Breakdown murmured, picking up the loopy medic’s servo once more. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

“Good.”

#kobd #knock out #breakdown #ratchet #tfp #transformers #maccadam #asks #seiqn #my fics

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detectivecarisi-1 · 1 year

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The Senator’s Daughter Chapter 2 (Bodyguard! Dave York x Female Reader

AN: Lol I am alive. Honestly, I am even surprised this took as long as it did, but I transferred from my old job teaching at a middle school (after a student threatened to stab me lol) and moved to a high school, so I had to completely restart my curriculum, which, if you’ve been following me, is why I’ve been having a bit of a mental breakdown as of lately. But being at the high school has been so much better for me, so I am finally back to writing! I appreciate you all for your patience, and if you’re reading this, thank you for coming back :) I am currently figuring out how to make a masterlist, so hopefully that gets up soon. I have alot of oneshots in mind for Din Djarin (my beloved) and Joel Miller… But we’ll see if I ever have the time to write those. I know there’s a ton of new people to the Pedro Pascal fandom so... that makes me a little nervous. But, stay tuned! Thank you again! - Megan

Rating: M for language, and discussions of drugs and alcohol. Future chapters will be explicit, so 18+ ONLY!!! MINORS DNI\

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: A lot of language (sorry, I have the mouth of a sailor, it’s hard to write without it), Eventual Smut (18+ FOR THE WHOLE SERIES), AFAB! Reader, HUGE divergence from canon, MeanDom!Dave York, Dom/Sub undertones, Brattysub!Reader, legal age gap relationship, Enemies to lovers, Mentions of drug/alcohol abuse, self-destructive behaviors, corrupt cops (probably only in this chapter), Politics lol, Minor violence (probably?), eventual mentions of parental abuse.

Tags: @fatimaisabelpascal

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters, feel free to dm me!

________________________________________________________________

“Sir, yes, sir” she says before slipping into the connected bathroom to shower. Dave starts to turn away, to give her some form of privacy, but Senator Leland grabs him by the arm before they could leave. Dave watches, as the strict father act Leland was putting on earlier melts away, as he slumps against the wall near the bathroom door.

“I just… I wanna make sure she gets in okay.” Just like his daughter, Senator Leland looks completely different than how the news channels show him. Where she looks younger, and softer than the washed-up party girl TMZ shows, Till Leland looks more exhausted, and unsure of himself, compared to the confident, perfectly styled politician he saw on MSNBC. Dave, after years of service in the CIA, has a certain skill for reading people, and Dave doesn’t see Mr. Leland as a slimy, sure of himself politician, he just sees a tired father. His shirt is wrinkled, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, he looks exhausted, like he has been up all night. Mr. Leland stands, close to his daughter private bathroom, waiting for the sound of the shower to turn on, with one of his hands pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dave takes his time to look around the girl’s room. Just like the girl herself, her room is nowhere near what Dave would’ve expected. Despite the shoes in her bed, and the mascara stains on a pristine white pillowcase, her room is perfectly kept. She has a makeup desk, with a few photos of her smiling next to a small white dog. On a shelf above her bed, she has a collection of stuffed animals, each one seems to be placed carefully, with the smaller ones in the front and center, while the larger ones are arranged in a neat row behind them. He spots a bookshelf in the corner, with a few cookbooks, The Great Gatsby, and War and Peace, Dave raises his eyebrows, genuinely impressed when he spots a tasseled bookmark, sticking out of the book, she’s almost finished with it. Dave had expected her room to be a complete mess, with dirtied clothes, bottles of pills and alcohol, and the trash overflowing, but this is the room of a normal girl. She continues to defy his expectations.

Finally, the shower starts, and Dave watches the senator’s entire body relax with relief. Senator Leland turns to Dave, “You have kids, Dave?” Dave nods, “two girls.” The senator nods… “so you… understand what I’m trying to do. I just want to make sure she’s okay… I don’t know what else to do.”

Dave doesn’t respond. Dave would stop at nothing to ensure their safety and their health. Dave has killed for much less, but for his daughters? He would make anyone, anyone who even looks his daughter’s direction with a sense of malice, suffer until they are begging for him to kill them.

He looks at the senator, he sees a distraught father, desperate to save his little girl from her own self-destruction. Dave thinks… If this was his child, he would burn down every nightclub in the state and nail her door shut. Perhaps Till Leland’s plan is just a little more level-headed. Dave has never been the best at controlling his temper, so a he understands the Senator, sure, however, he still questions how things could’ve gotten this bad with the girl.

Dave simply sets his jaw, and nods.

The senator runs a hand through his hair, sniffs and turns to Dave, shifting back into the smooth-talking senator Dave met earlier that morning. “Let me show you around the house. I can show you where you’ll be staying.”

They leave the girl’s room, and Senator Leland leads Dave to a room, only across the hall from the girl’s room. Leland opens the door, revealing a simple, but still beautiful bedroom. There it’s painted a soft gray, with dark wood floors, clearly original with the house, Dave can tell they’re aged, even though they had clearly recently been polished. There is an oak desk along the front wall, and a queen-sized bed with a white comforter on the opposite wall, with a simple nightstand beside it. Senator Leland breaks the silence “It’s not much, I know. Before my dad passed he stayed here full time.” Leland opens a door in the back corner, “You have your own restroom, shower, bath, anything you need. Dave don’t hesitate to ask for anything else. I know this job isn’t the same as a simple celebrity escort. I want to make sure you are well taken care of, so you can take the best care of my daughter.”

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

You step out of the shower, confused, and more hungover than you’ve been in your life. You look in the mirror, and oh great you look just as fucked up as you feel. Incredible. Thinking back to the mysterious “Mr.York” in your room, you feel the heat of embarrassment warming the back of your neck…

No big deal, just saw the hottest man I’ve ever seen, and what a great first impression, vomiting in a trashcan… things could be worse… hopefully.

You look in the mirror, trying to piece together the night before, attempting to shake the weight of shame, and embarrassment that’s currently making you want to melt into the cool tile of the bathroom floor. It only worsens when you remember the look on your father’s face, he hasn’t looked that disappointed since… well ever. Some shit went down last night and its driving you crazy that you can’t remember a thing.

“Whatever… can’t get worse than this.”

You throw on some clean pajamas and stumble downstairs.

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

As you enter the dining room, you spot Mr. York and your father, facing the stairwell, looking like something out of a sitcom’s “intervention” episode. If you weren’t so nervous, (and not insane) you would consider looking for a camera.

You get your first, clear-headed look at Mr. York, and, somehow, he's even more attractive when you’re (mostly) sober. You feel a little insecure, seeing him so perfectly put together and unaffected, and here you are, with your knees turning to jell-o.

Despite your distraction with Mr. York, you can still feel the tension in the air.

You walk up to your father and wrap him in a hug, that he doesn’t return, “Morning, old man. What’s the deal? Polling numbers down?” Your dad chuckles dryly “yeah, well, they’re about to be at least.”

His voice is raspy, he sounds exhausted. You hate that he feels like this, and, although you’re not exactly a genius, you know it’s somehow because of you.

You raise an eyebrow, and plop down on the seat across from your father… You pretend to think deeply for a moment, before gasping, “Oh, shit, they found out you did acid at a Nirvana concert in 91’?” you ask, trying desperately to lighten the mood.

“It was the Smashing Pumpkins, sweetheart, you know this. But no, that secret is locked away.” He smiles, and for a moment, he seems like it's just a normal morning, and that everything, deep down, is okay. But his face falls again, and he reaches across the table to grab your hand. “Honey… I love you very much, you know?”

Oh shit. This is bad, this is really bad.

You feel the color drain from your face, and your blood turns cold. You don’t trust your own voice to come out without squeaking, so you just give your dad a nervous smile.

“You… you got arrested last night. You were found passed out in front of a nightclub, and when the cops came to help you up… you dropped a small bag of pills.” He refuses to meet your eyes, he’s chewing his lip, and takes a deep breath before he continues, “If it weren’t for the fact that Office Benson was on the scene, you would’ve been charged. Benson owes me a favor so, he confiscated the pills and let you off the hook, but honey… you had Percocet on you. Where did you even get them?”

Your head is swimming. This makes no sense, you would never, ever, get hooked on meds like that. Alcohol? You admit you tend to overindulge, but opioids? No. No way, never in a million years. You’re trying to make sense of this situation in your head, trying to figure out how to explain to your dad that you would never, you could never do that to yourself, or him. You’re shaking your head, and tears you refuse to let fall start to burn your eyes… All is made a little worse when you look up at Mr. York, who is staring at you with the coldest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man. He’s judging your every move, he looks disgusted by you. You make eye contact, hoping he’ll soften up, but no, he just stares you down until you nervously look away.

You turn to your father, hoping that he starts laughing and this is just some sick tactic to make you straighten up, but he instead looks at you with red eyes, and “Honey, I’m just so worried about you… I can’t lose you.”

Fuck… you need a drink.

Everything, from the very moment you woke up, has just been too much. You want to leave, go to some shitty bar downtown, take a couple shots, numb these feelings that are currently making that sour taste at the back of your throat return, and maybe then you can have a civil conversation.

But it's 9am and your dad would probably die of a broken heart in front of you.

Or worse, Mr. York looks like he could kill you himself.

Instead, you resort to trying to talk, your voice warbled the tears you apparently can no longer hold back, “but… I don’t do drugs, dad, you gotta believe me I… I don’t do drugs.” Maybe if you weren’t so overwhelmed, things may have been a little more eloquent, but all things considered, you’re pretty proud of yourself for getting through that in one piece. Considering how much you feel. You feel like a child, you’re embarrassed, and scared, and… you can’t even begin to figure out how to process this.

Your dad straightens up a little, and he clears his throat a little.

“I know, honey, I know. They did a drug test, last night at the station, you’re cleanBut someone gave these to you, and you took them. You’re losing yourself, honey, you may not see it now, but I have to watch you slowly destroy yourself, I can’t do it anymore.” He stops for a second and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, takes a deep breath, and like he’s presenting a new bill to the Senate floor he says, “honey, you have now made it clear to me that you cannot control yourself. This is no longer a simple rebellious phase.You may not see it, but I know are going to end up killing yourself and dragging me down with you if you keep going like this. You have shown me that I cannot trust you to stop, and that you will push things further and further with no regard for yourself or others. So, this is Dave York, he’s going to be your bodyguard until after the election.”

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

Okay, so maybe you could have handled your response better. But fuck this. Fuck Percocet, mega-fuck the person who gave them to you, and seriously fuck Mr. York.

After your dad broke the news that Mr. York was essentially going to be following you around, no privacy at all, to make sure you’re in, what your dad calls, “in a better place mentally and physically”, it’s all a blur of you screaming, “fuck that”, “absolutely not”, “I’m not a fucking child”, and “I’ll do what I fucking want”. Your dad, during your (admitted) tantrum, argued back trying to reason with you, but even more infuriating, Mr. York just sat, watching you with those cold, judging eyes. His lack of response only makes you angier, you want to affect him, you want to see him get up, and tell you to get over yourself, or explain why him being your bodyguard is great, hell, even if he just laughs and agrees with you, that would’ve been better than him sitting, completely still, while you have a complete breakdown in front of him.

After your dad yelled “I won’t let you kill yourself this way, you hear me?” you just… gave up. Stormed upstairs, where you are currently screaming into your pillow.

You fuck up one time, and all of the sudden you lose all your privacy?

Okay, sure, maybe this isn’t the “one time” you fucked up. But you’re 21 years old living in Virginia Beach, where there’s literally nothing else to do except go out and drink till you blackout, but, who even cares?

You’re losing your mind. You’re shaking, and crying, and, screaming in the pillow did nothing to help the very apparent emotional break you’re currently experiencing.

Nah, fuck this.

You walk over to your dresser and pull out the flask you take with you to clubs sometimes, you’re not even sure what this is filled with anymore, and honestly? You don’t even care. You need to calm your nerves, and you’d take a shot of fucking rubbing alcohol right now if it was offered to you.

You’re about to take a sip, about to let whatever this mystery liquor is burn down your throat, to soothe your nerves…

“I’m going to need you to put that down.”

That’s… definitely not your father’s voice. And of course, as if he appeared torment you further, you see Mr. York casually standing in the entrance of your room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

How did he even get in here so quietly?

“Fuck off, Mr. York.” You roll your eyes, “I’m in my own room, I’m not hurting anyone, get off my back.”

He doesn’t respond, just stands and watches you, like he knows that enough to make you break.

He’s right.

“Jesus Christ! I don’t need this! I don’t need a ‘bodyguard’! I don’t need you! What I need is to just… fucking calm down I can’t think straight, and I’d be a hell of a lot better if it weren’t for you standing here like a fucking serial killer. Get out!” You’re screaming at him, of course having your second temper tantrum of the morning.

And just like always, he just stands there, his arms crossed, not the slightest bit moved by your outburst.

“Are you all done?”

You laugh bitterly, “fuck you. Mr. York.” You look up at him, challenging him to say something back to you, to finally acknowledge your frustration.

He shrugs, “the little temper tantrum you put on downstairs not enough for you? Had to do it again? Are you so pissed off that you didn’t get your way? You think you can just scream your way out if it? Keep trying, maybe eventually it’ll work.” He’s leaning against your bedroom door, and he said that all like he was just reading the forecast for the week. He doesn’t even sound mad, just annoyed, as if the very fact he has to speak to you is an inconvenience to him.

Okay… so maybe him just standing there is better than him being affected by you, when he just stood there, it was a lot less embarrassing, hurt a little less. He’s staring at you, with his hand held out, waiting for you to pass over the flask, “you gonna hand that over to me or do I need to take it from you.”

You hand him the flask and get back in bed.

#Dave York #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york smut #dave york x afab reader #bodyguard!AU #Pedro Pascal #enemies to lovers #dave york fluff #slow burn #The Equalizer 2 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #my work #My writing #smut #pedro pascal smut

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grishaverse-chaos · 1 year

Text

I might be in a very small minority here, but I actually really don't want Alina to have a corruption arc in any future seasons of s&b! (Mostly because I hate the trope of victims becoming just like their abusers, and it seems to me that that's where the show is going with her arc)

So here's what I want for her. (Under a cut because it got longer than I thought it would)

I want her to be angry and terrified about her new powers. I want her to be furious that the Darkling gave her his powers - one final act of violation that means she will never be able to forget him, no matter how hard she tries. I want her to be scared, constantly. I want to see her break down in tears after killing the Fjerdan assassin, because she didn't know she had his powers and is she turning into him? I want her to be scared of the adrenaline rush she gets whenever she uses her new powers. To refuse ever to use them again.

I want her to have PTSD. Nightmares. I want to see her wake up in the middle of the night, tears running down her face because she dreamed that the Darkling came back and forced her to train her shadow powers. I want her to reach for Mal only to remember that he's not there anymore - and maybe she wonders, is it her fault he's gone? Maybe he knew that she would turn evil. Maybe, just like the Darkling, she's going to push away everyone she loves.

I want Nikolai to transform into the demon, and Alina to see it and have a panic attack because what if that means the Darkling's back? I want her to talk to Zoya, and ask how she manages to stay so fucking calm all the time. I want Zoya to break down when there's nobody around but Alina, and tell her that even if she seems fine, she's terrified, looking around every corner to check for shadows. I want Zoya to confess that she fears becoming just like the Darkling, and Alina to reply "try having his powers"

I want them to bond over their fear, and each promise to pull the other out if they ever do start becoming like him. I want Alina to retreat further and further from the throne because she doesn't trust herself with power, and Zoya to step forward because even if she doesn't trust herself with power, she wants to test herself, to prove to herself that she is nothing like him.

I want Alina to be completely unstable, to panic every time she's in trouble and has to defend herself. I want her to stop using her Sun Summoning because she's afraid that even that might make her more like him, and I want her to get sick from it. I want her to be on the edge of collapsing at any given moment.

I want Nikolai to not notice a single thing about how Alina's breaking down, because he's busy and has a kingdom to run. I want Alina to scream at him and tell him that he's one of the only people in the whole country who actually gives a shit about her so can he act like it? I want him to look at her for the first time in months and realise that oh shit, his best friend is dying. I want him to write to Mal, begging him to come back, because as much as he wants to be able to save Alina himself, he can't.

I want Mal to come back and tell Alina everything she needs to hear. I want him to convince her that her light is beautiful, that it is nothing like the Darkling's shadows, that she is nothing like him. I want her to bury her face in his chest and break down in tears, because she almost forgot how good he is at saying the right thing when she needs him. I want him to offer to take her away from Court, and her to protest, saying that she can't leave.

I want Mal to stick around, and while he's still there, Alina to tell Zoya about his offer. I want Zoya to tell her to take it, to go while she still can, before the wedding. (And if Zoya's saying this partly because she and Nikolai have gotten closer while Alina's been having her mental breakdown, and she doesn't love the fact that he's engaged to somebody else... well, Alina kind of guessed that anyway. She's happy for them.)

I want her and Mal to run away. Maybe they fake her death, maybe she just leaves. Either way, they don't go back to Keramzin. (That would require them to confront exactly how messed up their childhood had been.) Instead, I want Zoya to suggest something that the Little Palace desperately needs - something she knows the pair of them would be good at.

I want them to start a new orphanage, on the outskirts of Os Alta, for Grisha orphans. The Little Palace simply isn't equipped to handle children who aren't being raised into soldiers, and most Grisha children stay at home now, unless they or their parents want them to learn control over their powers. Grisha orphans, on the other hand, have nowhere to go but the Little Palace - so Zoya and Genya work on creating a school, and the orphans Mal and Alina are raising go there to study every day, then come back home to the orphanage. I want Alina to start using her powers again. Slowly at first - creating little balls of light that she plays with when she's alone. Then I want her to remember how much she loves using her powers, how much joy and euphoria it brings her. I want her to become happy and confident in her powers again, and return to full health. (She won't ever be completely comfortable with the shadow powers she got from the Darkling, but one day she uses them with the kids - making shadow pictures on the wall one evening, and she realises that even with his powers, she can do good. She can make them her own.)

I want the news to spread about this. Do people know that it's the Sun Summoner running the orphanage? Maybe, maybe not. Whether or not they know, the orphanage gets more and more well-known. Otkazat'sya parents decide to send their children there so they can study at the Little Palace. After all, they've heard of the couple that owns it, and they seem trustworthy enough. I want Mal and Alina to recruit a team of Fabrikators to help them build an extension onto the building so there's enough room for all the new arrivals.

I want adult Grisha - rogue Grisha, many of them - to stop at the orphanage if they're in need. Whether they've been injured or fallen ill, they ran out of food, they just need a place to sleep for the night - they come to the orphanage. They know it's safe. Some of them have no home to go back to once they leave. I want Mal and Alina to offer them a permanent place to stay at the orphanage. Almost everybody accepts the offer. Many of them find they have something they can teach the kids - whether that's a special trick you can do with specific Grisha powers, or something else (a dish they love to cook, a sport they played as a child, their favourite place to shop in Os Alta) - the children learn eagerly from each new arrival.

And I want Alina to realise, after a few years, that the orphanage has become a sanctuary for Grisha of all ages. I want her to wonder briefly if that makes her like the Darkling. He'd wanted to create a sanctuary for Grisha. Then I want her to look around at the happy children, at the older Grisha entertaining the younger kids, and realise that she succeeded where he had failed. She and Mal have created a safe place where Grisha aren't being thrown into battle. Sure, some of the children from the orphanage grow up and join the integrated army (the First and Second Armies have been combined into one army. Ravka is stronger together, and that's reflected by the army defending it) - but nobody is ever forced into military service.

I want her to know that, without even meaning to, she has become not only the Darkling's equal, but she has become better than him. She has made the country safer for Grisha. Not him. Her and Mal. She and Mal changed the world. (Again.)

#i hate the idea that she would become just like the darkling tbh #because i genuinely think she's more self aware than that #and i want to see her trauma!!#because in the deleted scene‚ the darkling gives her his powers without her consent. yet another violation #i want her to try to forget him and not be able to because his powers are a part of her now!!#i want her to realise that she's so much better than him #i want her and zoya to bond over their fear of becoming like him #i want her and mal to run away from court #there's so much more i could say about the orphanage because i have SO MANY headcanons about that #i want alina to succeed in making ravka a better place for grisha! i want her to be demonstrably BETTER than the darkling #grishaverse #mayhem.txt #shadow and bone #alina starkov #mal oretsev #zoya nazyalensky #zoya nabri #anti darkling #<- just to be on the safe side #i also want nikolai to be afraid of the demon but tbh we kind of got that in canon #in row we see him feeling like he made the same mistakes as the darkling and then fixing those mistakes!! which honestly was brilliant #now we just need to get a similar arc in the show #mayhem grishaverse originals

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funnierasafictive · 5 months

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hi, this is the only place i feel like i can talk to about this even though i just discovered it, but i think i have DID, or some similar disorder. the majority of my alters, from what i know of them, are fictives. i've talked to my mom about this, which she does think is a possibility, but she still doesn't really know what's wrong with me. i tried to talk to my therapist as well, but she doubts i have it (i am a minor, and i feel like it's harder to tell if someone has a disorder when they're young. i got diagnosed with combined ADHD last year.) and we did watch a video about DID together, but i ended up having a breakdown around the middle of it (can't remember why). i'm so sorry for wasting your time.

Hello, Anon. I am sorry we have not gotten back to you. You were never wasting our time.

After reading all this, and understanding this ask is from September 8, I only hope that you are well.

I remember when we first found out about being a system. We were 16, and thought we just never grew out of having imaginary friends. We did not even know that DID existed! Haha.

I hope you have found some answers. If not, it is alright not to know. When it comes to systems, a lot of the time we do not know about it at first (especially if trauma is involved) because our mind wants to keep us safe.

We went through a similar thing; our doctor/s did not believe we had DID when we were a child, when we started bringing up the medical term for the disordered bits (Dissociative Identity Disorder). It took around maybe 4 years to finally get recognized as having it, and it funny enough took seeing a completely new doctor for ADHD. Long story.

For your last paragraph, there is indeed a pattern where when suddenly being given information about DID, the person tends to have a breakdown.

I remember when we talked about being a system to someone we were making friends with. On the same day of meeting them, they had a mental breakdown later in the conversation because they realized all the symptoms we talked about fit them. (Insert "discussion reminding people not to randomly tell an oblivious possible-system that they are a system. It will shock them and it is unhealthy." here.)

It is usually a shock for systems coming to terms with possibly having alters. Usually it is because their system did not want to reveal themselves yet, or it is simply just because your brain no longer feels safe. When systems have breakdowns during their system discovery, it is usually in response to how.. DID is your brain's coping mechanism, and the symptoms were meant to hide itself from you (or the host at the time), not just the world. Of course your brain feels wracked, exposed, scared.

System, or not, I hope you have found some coping mechanisms to deal with your symptoms in the present. We can never say if someone is a system--not because of some rule, but because we can not say for sure-- but what matters is you take care of yourself no matter what. Doing the research and exploring yourself is fine; just be safe.

#ask #Anon #From Chara

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aita-blorbos · 8 months

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AITA for admitting an underqualified student out of the goodness of my heart?

I (old enough to know better!, M) am the headmaster at an incredibly prestigious academy for the most magically gifted young men in our world (I can't say what it is for anonymity and professionalism's sake, but if I did say, I'm certain many would agree and understand the reason for our school's incredible reputation ;>) )

Months ago, a strange person (minor, [[any gender]]) was dumped onto our campus, perhaps by a snafu in our recruiting systems? They claimed to be from another world entirely, without a drop of magic to their name or any knowledge of how they came to be here. Because I am a reasonable man, I allowed them to stay in an unused dormitory on our campus for the time being, and even enroll in our classes alongside another problem extra-student entity who wished to attend (some sort of age probably, M? Cat. Maybe.)

In exchange for my incredible generosity and continued aid in finding a way to send them home, I've asked them to do some minor menial work around the campus and investigate some matters with the student body I'm much too busy to look into myself. They've been quite an incredible help, especially in the matter of a series of what can best be described as mental breakdowns from several of our students (completely unrelated to our curriculum or faculty, I assure you!)

But they and especially their 'roommate' are somehow never short on complaints! It's always "the dormitory is falling apart and full of ghosts" or "you're blackmailing us to do your dirty work" or "you're not actually doing anything to send me home" or "you're being completely unreasonable with your demands". Need I reiterate that this student is woefully unqualified and most of our curriculum does not apply to them, the only reason they're staying here is my kindness! And with that kindness, they seem to have made a fine group of friends here! I simply don't see what the trouble is!

I know I'm being reasonable, but I would appreciate some validation from outside the situation, if that's all right :>)

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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janetbrown711 · 5 months

Text

A Better (not) Son or Daughter

MK has been acting like a "goody two shoes" at school and it really starts to get on Mei's nerves until she finally reaches her breaking point

tw for the besties fighting, minor fantasy racism, and anxious mental breakdowns

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 10 Part 10.5 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Ao3 Link

Mei wasn’t liking how MK was acting at school as of late.

There was just something… weird about it– something wrong about it.

Like how during math class, he started not glancing at Mei’s answers, or at lunch he’d keep quiet, or how during PE he just started laughing along to Qiang’s stupid jokes– and on top of all that she could actively see him hiding or stopping his numerous little fidgets he did during the day.

It was weird!

Of course the teachers didn’t seem to notice the negative behavior, even praising him for “being more focused” which was totally weird because if Mei knew one thing it was that her best friend struggled with focusing just as much as she did (if not more). Of course, his grades were still not the greatest, but he was starting to get C+s and B-s, which made Pigsy proud.

MK really liked making Pigsy proud, so at least he was happy, but… but still. It was weird, and Mei didn’t like it.

What probably frustrated her the most was how she couldn’t even talk about it without sounding crazy or jealous. Like– “Wow Mei, way to be happy that your best friend is getting good grades and is getting your guardian’s approval. You’re such a good friend.”

But it was off! It was weird! It was so very not normal. Annoyingly so.

She wondered if perhaps Qiang was blackmailing him or something, or if it had to do with the whole “Career Day” thing since she noticed the behavior had started right after winter break. Maybe it had to do with Pigsy saying he now “trusted them enough to not need him to drop them off”, which was a lie if Mei ever heard one, but even then she couldn't say why that'd make MK change his behavior. Plus, MK was completely unresponsive to her questioning, especially if it was during class, so Mei was left to wonder all on her own.

Yippee.

“If you keep twisting those noodles you’re going to take the whole bowl, kid,” Pigsy commented with a chuckle.

“Oh! Sorry, Piggy,” Mei apologized, immediately releasing the poor sesame noodles back into the bowl.

“You got a test today or something? Your face is as scrunched as my ma’s playing mahjong,” He laughed a little more, but this time more at the memory than her.

“No, I’m just… thinkin’,” She glanced at MK, who was eating peacefully with his legs swinging (unlike how they’d be at school).

MK suddenly stopped though, looking at her and pointing out, “Uh, yeah we do. We have a history test,” with a mouth full of noodles.

“MK, don’t talk with your mouth full, please,” Pigsy massaged his forehead.

MK laughed and nodded before swallowing. “We have a history test today.”

Right. One of the last ones before school ends. A last ditch effort for Mei to get her grades up, but she wasn’t all that hopeful.

Pigsy glanced at Mei. “Did you know that?”

“Kinda,” She admitted, looking down at her bowl and poking it with her chopsticks.

“You study for it at all?” He then asked.

Mei shrugged. Unless the history had dragons actively involved, she wasn’t interested. And the unit right now was just on some dead chairman guy they were all supposed to really care about, but Mei’s dad had never liked him much, so she didn’t either… whatever his name was.

“Gotta study for these things if you want your grades to go up, kiddo,” Pigsy pointed out while washing some of the dishes from breakfast.

“I know, I know,” Mei lowered her head, picking up a single seed and trying to squish it between her chopsticks. “History’s just kinda… boring.”

“Yeesh, don’t let Tang hear that,” Pigsy joked but Mei could only crack a weak smile.

Pigsy sighed, turning off the sinking and looking at her. “Just try your best, kid. That's all you can do.”

Mei wasn’t really sure she could do her best right now… Heck, she hadn’t really been doing her best since before her parents died. After all, if she were doing her best, she'd be perfect and if she’d been perfect, her parents would still be here.

“Okay,” she said instead, since it made Pigsy happier to think she agreed.

He smiled at her softly, ruffling her hair before going off to grab his keys while Mei shoved a few more bites before throwing the rest in the trash and rinsing out the bowl, which MK copied.

“I can let you copy off of my test if you want, Mei,” Her friend suggested, smiling all innocently.

Mei couldn’t help but roll her eyes with an aggressive huff, making MK step back and give her a weird look, but Mei moved on before it could be acknowledged with words.

She went into her room, shoving a few loose papers into her bag without care just as Pigsy called asking if they were ready to go.

Mei zipped up her bag, giving a glance to the shrine to her parents in the corner of her room. “Yeah! Just gimme a sec!”

Her parents were looking at her with a perfectly neutral expression, their stance and position perfectly neutral towards each other. At least, that’s what it looked like at first, but Mei remembered that photo shoot. It was for a big promotion at her Mama’s company and she had spent hours making sure Mei looked absolutely perfect. In fact, if she focused really hard on her Mama’s dark eyes, she could see her not quite looking at the camera, but at Mei with this look of… expectation. And hope, maybe.

Or maybe she was just paranoid from staring at dead people instead of getting ready for school.

Mei sighed, shoving a water bottle and pencil case into the sidepockets of her backpack.

She shouldn’t be feeling this way. It had been seven months. Her parents loved her. Or love her, if there’s some kind of afterlife or if ghosts are real. But either way, there was love. Mei was loved. It was cool.

Mei ran out of the room and joined her guardian and MK by the door.

“You two ready for today?” Pigsy asked, hand on the doorknob.

“Yes sir, Mr. Pigsy,” MK gave a big, bright-eyed grin.

“As I’ll ever be,” Mei bit her cheek, and with that the three of them were off.

.o0o.

Drop-offs were more like a ding-dong-ditch these days, with Pigsy making sure to step off the subway with them and make sure they got to the stairs okay before watching them disappear, and only then would be begin waiting for his next train (which Mei only knew because sometimes they’d go back down and watch him). If anything, it told Mei he was totally lying about trusting them, but she knew not to confront him since adults were usually sensitive about those things.

It didn’t make the walk to school from the station any easier though, and Mei tried kicking a pebble all the way to make up for being kind of annoyed at MK for no real reason.

“I– um… I could also help you study before class starts… if you want,” MK suggested, and Mei kicked the pebble harder.

“I’m fine. I don’t need help,” She focused really hard on a second kick that sent it across the crosswalk right before a car drove by.

“That’s true, you are really smart,” MK smiled at her but she ignored it, looking both ways before crossing the street, which MK quickly followed.

Mei continued kicking the rock.

“The test is also stuff I mostly knew from my old school– which means you must really, really know it if you’ve been here for so long,” MK continued trying to be all light hearted and stuff, but it just made Mei’s skin crawl, and for once in her life, she was relieved when they arrived at the school.

Instead of leaving the rock, she picked it up and put it in her skirt pocket.

Mei then looked around the yard, seeing some kids playing hopscotch, others doing homework, and a few playing a trading card game. However, Mei couldn’t have been less interested in any of that and so just made her way to Miss Yang’s classroom, which MK scurried to follow like a lost little duck.

Mei greeted the teacher with nothing more than a curt bow before going to her desk, immediately taking out a pencil from her bag and drawing on a crack in the wood.

“Mei, you’re going to get in trouble for drawing on the desks again,” MK whispered, glancing at Miss Yang, but she was busy on her computer.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mei huffed her bangs out of her eyes.

“Mei, Pigsy really wouldn’t like it if–”

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks now, hm? You’re like some little goody-two-shoes– makes me feel sick,” Mei rolled her eyes and scribbled harder.

MK didn’t speak for the rest of the morning period.

Math breezed by uneventfully, with MK volunteering and getting answers wrong like he always did, and Mei trying to not let that annoy her. Reading was boring, science was alright, and then it was time for the history test.

Mei groaned as the “pass-er out-er” handed her her paper, and a part of her thought about writing an insult, folding it into a paper airplane and sending it her teacher’s way, but the fact that Pigsy and MK would be disappointed in her? It was a bit much.

Well, MK’s whole thing felt like “a bit much” to be honest. Like– since when did he expect things from her? Why was he always wanting her to be on her “best behavior”? Since when was he the leader here?

She thought again of her parent’s photo and felt her face get hot with shame as she looked down at her paper. She was immediately bombarded with dates and questions she couldn’t remember if she tried, which only made her face get hotter and hotter. She glanced at MK, who seemed laser focused on the top question about Mao Zhedong’s birthday, and she looked away before he could look back.

Well… at least the test was multiple choice, so she had a 25% chance of getting right by guessing, so Mei filled out random answers before flipping her paper over and resting her head, waiting for the “pass-er out-er” to become the “take-er away-er”.

After five or so minutes, MK coughed, and when Mei looked he was sliding his paper towards her. Mei glared at him, which just made him look confused which made her get more annoyed, and so Mei just closed her eyes once more.

It was another five or so minutes before their tests were taken away and they were dismissed for PE, which also went by uneventfully– until it was yard time.

Mei was still angry by the time they were released outside, and MK was still following her around because despite all that, she was all he had and he knew it.

And, well… that kind of went the other way around too.

But Mei wasn't in the mood for MK today, getting in line for tetherball, a game MK hated, and tapping her foot impatiently as she watched.

“Uh– Mei? I-I don't really… like this game, can we do something else?” MK asked, looking at the other students with unease.

“It's not always about you, MK,” Mei said bitterly, making MK frown.

“Well– yeah, I know, it's just– can't we play something else? Like jump rope or wall ball or something?” MK offered.

“Nope. Tetherball. You. Me,” Mei squinted at the red ball as class athlete, Kija, managed to successfully wrap it all the way around the pole, beating his opponent. Another boy rose up to the challenge, making Mei next.

“You and me? That means you'd have to beat Kija,” MK pointed out.

Mei scoffed. “I've beaten him before, I'll be fine.”

“If you say so,” MK eyed her a bit, but she didn't take her eyes off the ball, watching as Kija and the other boy went back and forth, back and forth, before Kija used both hands to shoot the ball at impossible heights for the average student to fight and he won yet again.

Mei smirked as she stepped up to the plate. “You ready to dance, Kija?”

Kija laughed. “You only won because the whistle blew.”

“Keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll finally get an award for being a ball hog,” Mei cracked her knuckles and Kija growled and served.

The two of them went back and forth, with Mei attempting an angle shot, but Kija managed to snag the chain since he was a bit taller than her. Thankfully though the chain was metal and in stopping her move his wrist was weakened, meaning Mei could go in for a fast ball. If he didn't recover in time, victory would be hers.

Kids watched in awe as Mei hit the ball with overwhelming speed and precision, and she laughed as Kija missed again and again until right at the last possible moment he managed to recover and struck back.

Some kids booed as Mei growled in frustration, hitting the ball as quick as she could, determined to teach this punk a lesson and wipe that stupid smug look off his face.

There was a bit of back and forth, with Mei getting dangerously close to losing her lead here and there but she remained vigilant. After five minutes of intense competition, she managed to wind the ball all the way around the pole and all the kids watching cheered in her honor.

“I don't hear any whistles this time, Kija,” Mei smirked and crossed her arms.

Kija growled. “You're gonna regret that, pony girl,” He threatened, shoving her before storming away to play some other game.

Mei rolled her eyes, taking Kija's place and taking the ball as MK hesitated to step to the plate.

“C'mon, MK, we don't have all day,” she rolled her eyes.

“I– do I really have to, Mei? Seeing you win was fun enough, but I don't really–”

“Just shut up and play, MK,” Mei glared, and MK stood upright in alarm.

She didn’t even give him time to relax before she served, hitting the ball with all the rage and aggression in her heart, causing MK duck and cover his head.

“C’mon, MK, stop being such a coward!” Mei glared, hitting the ball again.

“Mei, stop!” MK shouted at her.

Mei knew she should. That she was freaking MK out and it wasn’t nice. That Pigsy might actually get mad at her if he knew. But her anger felt like a flame in her chest, and she hit the ball again.

“Woah, she’s really going for it.”

“Is she glowing?”

“Why doesn’t Xiaotian fight back?”

“She is glowing! Woah!”

“Someone take a picture!”

Kids were gawking all around Mei, but she was still too angry to pay any attention to the green aura surrounding her and making her heart pound. This time when the ball came her way, Mei grabbed it point blank and let it go before grabbing MK’s collar and dragging him across the play yard until she reached the gate and shoved him against it.

“What the heck is wrong with you, MK?! You’re acting like a crazy person!” Mei shouted at him.

“Me?!” MK was completely lost. “You’re the one attacking me a-and acting like I’m an evil clone or something!”

“You’re the one who’s all obsessed with being all goody-two-shoes-y and getting good grades and not fighting back! What happened?!” Mei twisted his collar tighter and her free hand curled into a fist.

“Mei, stop! Please!” MK noticed and started to cry. “I-I just wanna be good f-for Pigsy! Promise!”

“Stop lying! There’s more, there has to be,” Mei shook him and dared to raise her fist, making MK clench his eyes shut.

“I-I-I’m not lying, Mei, I would never lie to you!” MK sobbed, sending waves of guilt crashing through Mei, but she remained in a fighting stance.

“What’s different, MK?! Hm? All studious, all perfect, thinking that’ll make him happy,” She growled and MK opened his eyes to look confused.

“H-huh? I-I’m not– I’m not perfect, I just wanna be good ‘cuz–” MK glanced around at the other students, before looking back at Mei and deciding to whisper. “‘Cuz Pigsy, he– Qiang’s Dad– he threatened we’d be kicked out, a-and he said things, mean things, about his past a-and he cried, a-and I don’ wanna lose him too, Mei, I don’ wanna,” MK couldn’t speak anymore, choking on his sobs, and Mei let go of his collar, allowing him to sink to the ground.

Mei’s anger evaporated in an instant, only leaving her with an empty, panicked feeling as her chest rose and fell at a feverish pace and kids started whispering around her again.

“Aw man, she stopped glowing…”

“What happened? Did she beat him?”

“Gross! She looks like a demon!”

“I wanted them to fight!”

“This was so lame.”

“Their dad is that pig demon? No wonder.”

“Boo! I wanted to see her punch him!”

Mei stumbled back, finally noticing the hot tears streaming down her face. She looked down at her best friend, who brought his knees to his chest and just kept crying and crying and rocking back and forth. “MK– I– we aren’t–”

Just then she remembered Pigsy’s words all those months ago and it echoed in her mind like a broken record.

“If we slip up like this– get into one too many fights, or get the cops called too often– then you’ll probably never, ever see me or MK ever again.”

A soft “no…” escaped her lips and she fell to her knees, getting dirt all over her knee-high socks.

“I-I– I didn’t mean– I-I just– Y-you were– but now– M’so sorry MK, m’so, so sorry,” Mei began to weep and buried her head in her hands. “I-I ruined it– I-I ruin everything– M’so sorry.”

Mei continued to sob, but briefly stopped when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She startled at first, until she realized it was MK, and hugged him back, crying into his shoulder.

“I-I don’ wanna lose Piggy either, MK– m’so sorry,” She sniffled and tried to explain herself.

“I-it’s okay– I just– w-we can’t be mean, you know? W-we need to be nice and happy for Piggy,” MK hugged her a little tighter, and she could tell he was shaking too.

“I– yeah, we– we can be good for ‘im, right? We can be good kids, I know we can,” Mei tried to smile but her bottom lip wobbled beyond her control so she squeezed MK tighter as he nodded in silent agreement.

She felt like such an idiot. What was she doing getting all mad at MK for? What did she hope to accomplish by threatening to punch him? She was supposed to be smarter than this, Pigsy already told her what would happen if she got too rowdy. She was supposed to have listened, but she never listened. That’s why her house burned down and that’s why her parents were dead, she could never just listen–

They’d probably get called to the office again. And then it’d be over– it’d be one fight too many and Mei would never see MK or Pigsy or Mr. Tang ever again and be dragged to the bottom of the ocean to be with her weird mystical uncle or whatever.

“M’so sorry, MK, I didn’t mean to, m’so sorry,” Mei repeated so quietly she wasn’t sure he could hear over his own crying.

The pair of them stayed huddled by the fence crying until the whistle blew and the two of them wiped their faces and clothes as best they could and headed back to their classroom, praying to every god or star in the heavens that they wouldn’t get called up and everything would be okay.

But, no. As soon as everyone was back in their seats and ready for their science class, there was a phone call and Mei and MK were sent down.

Mei kept her face stoic and unreadable, like she had practiced back with her parents despite wanting to cry. MK wasn’t nearly as lucky though, since he had never practiced so his tears just streamed down in a hot mess and all Mei could do was hold his hand and urge him onward until they were waiting in the familiar chairs that should’ve had a plaque with their names on it by now.

They weren’t called in for a while, so Mei kept her eyes on the old clock as it ticked seconds away at an agonizing pace while holding MK’s hand.

After a while though, she whispered, “M’so sorry, MK… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know, Mei, I know.”

Mei clenched her eyes shut and took a shaky breath. “I’ll miss you.”

MK could only squeeze her hand and cry more.

After seven minutes, MK was called in first, though he almost refused to go in without Mei. They didn’t have a choice though, and the two were separated.

Mei buried her head in her hands and stayed that way until it was her turn, only catching a glimpse of her best friend before heading in.

“Miss Long, I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again this time,” Headmaster Jiangxi folded his hands and placed them on the table.

“...Are you gonna call Pigsy?” Mei asked, taking her seat.

“It is school policy, Mei. You of all people should be very aware of th–”

“I didn’t mean to–!” Mei interrupted. “It wasn’t even a fight really, I was just– I was so mad– I’d never really hurt MK, not with what I know now– please don’t tell CPS and have us separated or Piggy arrested or expel us, please, please, please, please,” Mei got on her knees and begged, clearly startling the man.

“Miss Long, there’s no need for kowtowing, please,” He urged and Mei took her seat again, face red and hot.

Headmaster Jiangxi took a long breath. “Miss Long, we were never going to expel you or Mr. Qi over this–”

“R-really? What about Mr. T–” Mei slapped a hand over her mouth.

“‘Mr.’ who?” The man looked at her with a hint of concern.

Mei lowered her eyes. “MK told me about something… Mr. Tao said…”

“Ah…” The headmaster glanced at his computer with unease. “I had a feeling something like that would occur. I meant to send an email to dissuade him from presenting, but…” he shook his head. “No matter now, there’s no need for Mr. Tao to know. You said it yourself, it never turned into a fight, did it?”

Mei shook her head. “I just got really, really mad– some kids even said I was glowing, but I didn’t mean to! I swear, I was never gonna actually hurt MK, I just– I was so mad…”

Headmaster Jiangxi nodded to himself as she spoke, typing a few things into his computer and clicking some others. “Am I correct in assuming you’re very familiar with the school’s policy on bullying and violence?”

“Yeah, I remember breaking Qiang’s nose,” Mei confirmed, trying not to smile at the memory.

“In normal circumstances, the two of you would be given lunch detention for a week, on top of a phone call home, but seeing as there was no actual fighting between the two of you and all has already been resolved I see no need for this to go on any records– so long as you swear to be on your best behavior for the rest of the school year, understood Miss Long?” Headmaster Jiangxi gave her a look and Mei’s jaw dropped.

“I– yes sir! I promise! I’ll be the best darn kid in this whole academy, I won’t let you down, I promise,” Mei couldn’t help but beam.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Miss Long. We still have more to discuss,” He reminded, and Mei forced herself to sit back and tried to take a breath, though couldn’t stop her legs from swinging happily.

She waited as he typed a few more things, clicked a dozen more, typed a bit more, and took another breath.

“Your… ‘glowing’... is that something you can control?” He asked.

“Oh, um… I mean it really only happens when I’m really, really scared or angry. I’m just surprised my ‘inner dragon’ didn’t make an appearance too, haha,” She tried to laugh, but Headmaster Jiangxi clearly didn’t find it funny.

“Right… Well, rumors like that are going to be hard to quell, Miss Long, especially with your guardian situation,” He explained.

“But it’s because I’m a dragon, not because I’m a demon. I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Mei frowned.

“I know, Miss Long, but– well– you have brought harm to students in the past–”

“Qiang deserved it,” She muttered.

Her principal gave her a look. “I’m not saying he didn’t, but what I am saying is that I recommend you get this anger of yours under control before it grows beyond my control, understood?”

Mei slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think I get it.”

“You’re a smart girl, Miss Long. You can go on to do many great and important things like your parents always dreamed; you just have to make the right choices,” The man smiled at her softly, and Mei felt her stomach drop.

“R-right, yes. I can– I will. I promise,” Mei stood and bowed.

“I’m glad we could come to an understanding, Miss Long. Your family has always been good to this academy and it would be a shame for us to part,” He nodded at her.

“Yes sir, I understand,” Mei nodded back, fiddling with her skirt. “Am I free to go, sir?”

The headmaster nodded once again. “Have a good day, Miss Long.”

“You too, Headmaster Jiangxi,” Mei meant it as she bowed yet again and stepped back into the outside world.

Well that was strange. But hey, Mei would take what she could get, especially if it meant they weren’t going to be separated after all.

Mei said a quick prayer to her ancestors as a “thank you”, and hurried back to class.

.o0o.

The rest of the day was as Headmaster Jiangxi had warned. Students whispered and kept looking back at MK and Mei– especially stupid Qiang– but Mei was okay because she and MK weren’t going anywhere and that meant there was nothing they could do to hurt her.

During the cleaning period, MK and Mei stayed by each other's sides and swept the classroom in complete silence, which got them a compliment from Miss Yang. It was equally strange for the both of them, but it was a strange day.

Both of them were flooded with relief when the bell finally rang and they were free to board the city bus and ride to Pigsy’s Noodles.

“So… what did Headmaster Jiangxi say to you?” Mei asked, adjusting her backpack as she looked out the window.

“He had a lot of questions I couldn’t answer for a while because I… just kinda kept crying and begging not to be taken away, haha,” MK admitted, messing with the carpeted seating. “He said he wouldn’t call Piggy though, and after that I was able to explain how you were just having a bad day and you didn’t even hurt me and we’re okay now, you know?”

“Ahhh, yeah that explains it,” Mei pieced together. “I was wondering why he was so mellow about the whole thing. I guess I owe you one.”

MK laughed a little. “Maybe… but I’m just glad we’re okay and Pigsy’s okay too.”

“Yeah, me too…” Mei looked down. “I… I really messed up. I don’t know why I got so angry, I just– I don’t know… I guess some part of me thinks Pigsy likes you more than me and you switching to act all good and quiet kinda threw me, m’sorry,” she confessed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” MK smiled and held her hand. “I’m not mad at you or anything, I really should’ve said something sooner about Mr. Tao, but… yeah,” he laughed a little, which Mei copied.

“Still friends?” Mei asked, offering her hand to shake.

“The bestest,” MK shook it and the two of them smiled and laughed the rest of the bus ride before arriving at the familiar noodle shop.

“Hey, you two,” Pigsy smiled as they walked in, drying off a glass with a rag like everything was perfectly fine. “How’d the test go?”

“Oh, right– that did happen today,” Mei completely forgot about everything before recess.

Pigsy raised an eyebrow. “Busy day?”

MK and Mei exchanged a look. “You… could say that.”

This, of course, just made Pigsy even more confused.

“Why? What happened? Some kids get into a fight or something?” Pigsy guessed, moving on to drying off a bowl.

Mei shook her head. “Not really, but it did get kinda close.”

“Yeah, but everything’s okay now and no one really got hurt,” MK smiled at her.

“Ah, I see,” Pigsy nodded to himself. “I gotta say, it is kind of refreshing to hear about kids getting into fights that aren’t you two,” He laughed a little.

“I beat Kija in tetherball–!” Mei blurted out, immediately diverting the conversation.

“Really? That’s impressive, kiddo. Congrats,” Pigsy gave her a smile before going to put the bowl and cup away.

“Smooth,” MK whispered and Mei rolled her eyes, pushing him a little.

It wasn’t long after that that Mr. Tang came back from a long day of studying, and soon the conversation became all about him and the Monkey King– not that Mei minded by any means.

Because this was normal for them. This was right for them.

Things were so right and normal right now and Mei wouldn’t give that up for the world.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #dadsy of two au #mei lmk #mk lmk #pigsy lmk #my fics #hurt/comfort #angst #lil mk and mei deserve the world tbh #i just #oughhhhhh i love my lil babies #why must they fight?#(the answer is I make them but shhhhhhh)

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