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whirlybirbs · 20 days

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BEYOND THE VOID — !

1. THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

( MASTERPOST | AO3 | SPOTIFY ) summary: torn from time yet again, it's thursday. six months pass. while you grapple with a newfound uncanny ability to premeditate, loki grapples with the fact he's slipping back into his old self without you. enter brad wolfe. now playing: a whole lots gonna change by weyes blood word count: 3.3k pairing: loki / f!reader, established in from the void, with love tags: enemies to friends to lovers, soulmates, we-are-in-love-in-the-future but how did that even happen, angst & comfort, redemption arc, lots of time travel, loki season 2 (2020) spoilers a/n: finally, they return in "beyond the void". i can't thank everyone enough for the unending enthusiasm for this little project of mine. it's fitting to have the first chapter release with an eclipse. this is for all of you :) the beautiful gif for this chapter is from this set by @tomshiddles.

"Okay."

There's a long stretch of silence between Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster.

In the liminal stretch of the apartment building's hall, there's little sound except the loud drone of some horribly, desperately sad song beyond the door of Unit 1131. The two women share a long look with one another, and then Darcy gestures urgently to the door.

"Go ahead," she nudges her colleague.

"What?" Jane asks in a harsh whisper, "No, you knock."

"You were the one that said we needed to do an intervention—" Darcy argues back in an equally low tone.

"Oh, so now this is on me?" Jane fires back, "She's our friend—"

"Our friend who has been babbling nonsense about things that have not happened and has been seriously obsessing with that Low-key dude—" Darcy rushes out, bringing her face closer to Jane's, "I don't even know what we're walking into here!"

Jane inhales. She pinches her brow. With a long rub of her face, she exhales. Then, she knocks.

She gives Darcy a 'happy?' look before stepping back and crossing her arms.

Almost immediately, the music stops. There's the sound of a shuffle. A meow. And then, the door opens only wide enough that one exhausted eye can peak through the chained gap.

"Heeeeeeeeeey, girl!" Darcy chides, waggling her hands in the air, "Surprise!"

On the other side of the door, your heart clenches.

It feels a little bit like a cruel joke, y'know?

All that wishing, begging, clawing to go home and — well... you are. You're home. You've been home. For six months, you've been home in New York City. You're back in that little studio apartment, with Sigurd, with your research, with your doctorate.

ALL I WANT TO DO IS GO HOME.

You try your best to give both Darcy and Jane a smile, but it comes out mangled and exhausted and not quite right. You've been crying. Sort of par for the course these days.

"Oh, uh... Hi guys."

Sigurd meows.

"You got a sec?" Jane asks, raising a folder in her hands, "We, uh... Erik gave us some new anomaly data to look over and we figured... you're the one for the job! Y'know? It's... kinda... your thing... have you been crying?"

Your eyes dart between them both. You wet your lips.

"No. Nooo, no. It's..." your mouth hangs open as you search for a reason, "...Allergies."

There's a beat of embarrassing silence, and then Darcy moves fast as lightning. She wriggles her arm through the gap and unlocks the chain — almost as if this is definitely something she's mastered before — before pushing her way through the doorway of your apartment. Jane follows close behind, and Sigard squawks as he scurries away from underfoot.

The infiltration is almost immediately regretted because... woah.

Like, big woah.

Darcy has seen crazy. Like, she has an Uncle on her Dad's side who is totally in on the whole "they're coming for our thoughts" thing and does not leave the house without at least six layers of Great Value tinfoil stuffed under his baseball cap. She knows crazy. She works for Erik Selvig.

But this?

This is, like, soooooo above her pay grade.

Jane's jaw is slack. The folder is immediately forgotten on the kitchen island in favor of the wall-to-wall documentation of... whatever the hell this was.

LOKI MISSING? in the center of it all, with string and equations and runes and news articles and tabloid pages. There's an alarming amount of photos of the God in question pinned up beside ramblings on... Time? And... Quantum mechanics...?

There's another loooooong stretch of silence. And then, Darcy and Jane both turn slowly to look at you pressed against the door.

You swallow.

Your face is set in horror.

"It's not what it looks like—"

"Uh, dude, it totally is what it looks like—" Darcy starts, stepping closer to the board and pointing a black, manicured finger at a paparazzi photo of Loki being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower, "What's with all the Loki paraphernalia?! Need I post a lil' throwback Thursday to when he tried to kill us all?"

IT'S THURSDAY AGAIN.

You wince. "You wouldn't understand—"

Then, it happens.

The same thing you've experienced dozens upon dozens of times these last six months happens again: A rush of chatter in your mind, a cacophony of whispers that claw at your thoughts and flood them with has-beens and will-be's. A million things all at once, a little bit of everything from all of time, and then— one thread. One thread that stands out against them all.

"Jane, don't."

Across the room, Jane's fingers pause on the contact number for that pretty S.H.I.E.L.D. agent they've met once or twice now — the one who is managing the Asgardian anomaly cases. With Loki missing, S.H.I.E.L.D. has been desperate to track him down. If this is a lead... If you know where he is...

Jane's face freezes.

Her brows knit.

Your face is split in panic. "I know you think calling Agent Hill is the right thing to do, but—"

"...How did you know I was...?" Jane's voice falls off, her eyes searching your face.

Your voice splinters as you step forward. "If you call Agent Hill, she is going to section our entire division within the week. Thor will be exiled from Earth on conspiracy four days later. We will sit in a cell for five years until they decide we have nothing to do with Loki's disappearance from Asgard."

Darcy's eyes bounce between you and Jane.

"Why are you saying all that like you know it's going to happen?" Jane asks slowly, putting her phone down and closing the gap between you. "Doc, what's going on?"

Your eyes flicker with fear.

And then exhaustion. The walls you've built to keep this away from the others crumble with one worried look from Darcy, and you crumple against the kitchen counter.

Your voice is far away.

"It all started that Thursday."

You thought it would be better now that someone knows.

Truth be told it might be more trouble than it's worth if not to soothe the burden of secrecy — because Darcy keeps treating you like a Magic 8 Ball that, when shaken, is going to spit out readings on the future.

It isn't that easy. I mean, if it was, you would have definitely done everything in your power to avoid the commute traffic this morning.

You don't know why it happens. Or how. You have a theory it has something to do with Alioth, but... without any sort of control, there's no way of knowing. All you know is that in those moments, you're presented with a weave of potential sequences. And in those moments, you can choose to act. Or not.

So far, acting seems to be the best course of action.

But, yea, no. No fortune-cookie-level stuff. No crystal ball, no tarot cards. Just... weird time-whispers. And a migraine that seems to never go away. And dreams. Really vivid dreams. Dreams that happen? And dreams that don't.

If it was a horoscope sort of thing, maybe you wouldn't have missed your morning bus after waiting in line at that coffee shop three blocks down. They always make your coffee a little too bitter, but the girl behind the counter is an NYU grad student you recognized from a mechanical engineering lecture you sat in on three months ago. You've got a soft spot for her. She's always nice to that guy in the baseball cap who seems unhoused.

You hope it all works out for her in the end.

But, Christ this coffee is bitter.

You buzz into Stark Labs at 9:37 am, and you're setting your stuff down at R&D by 9:43 am.

Bruce Banner looks up briefly from his work to slide you a welcoming smile. You return it gently as you settle down on your stool and reacclimate yourself to last week's work.

Mondays, man.

Tony is, as always, later than anyone else. His entrance is followed by the usual boisterous chatter meant as a morale booster. More often than not it's a genius-level comedy routine built on absolutely torturing Dr. Banner. You opt, more often than not, to refuse to enable the bad behavior.

Any laughter is buried deep into these readings from the Tesseract.

And so this has been home for the last four months.

Avengers Tower. R&D. Erik Selvig's Research Team. Theoretical Physics and Quantum Mechanics. Day in, day out.

No TVA, no TemPads, no Sylvie, no Mobius, no Capybaras.

...No Loki.

But, plenty of whispers.

It rocks you out of your focus, iced latte halfway to your lips as you're rooted in this little pocket of voices and threads and whisps of time. There's a thousand, then a hundred, then one.

Your voice is soft.

"Bruce, try the equation again."

From across the room, Tony's voice dies down and Bruce's eyes rise to meet yours. He points to himself, with a questioning raise of the brows.

You nod, then continue to take a sip of your coffee.

And so Bruce does. Wordlessly. And, after a minute, he looks up with a grin.

"So it was right."

"Woulda never known if Iron Dick over here didn't shut up for one second."

Tony's grin is bigger than Bruce's as he meanders over to your lab table and throws an arm around your shoulder. He squeezes you gently. You avoid his eye contact — and in doing so, you miss the momentary grace of concern.

(Tony has known you for a few months now. He knows you adequately enough to gauge that your triple-shot espresso should have been a sextuple. The bags beneath your eyes are dark. There's an edge there. Something jumpy. You're exhausted.)

"Now, that was mean."

"You're torturing him," you fire back lightly, non-the-wiser to his scrutiny.

"It's called exposure therapy—" Tony croons, leaning back and thumbing through some of the notes on your desk. You allow it.

Good. Still sharp. Still better than anyone else at what you do.

"Exposure to workplace terrorism?" You rib back with one cocked brow, "No offense, Bruce, but I like you better not green. Okay, Tony?"

"None taken!" Dr. Banner calls lightly from across the room. He's working on the second part of that equation now.

"Sure, sure, alright, Doc," Tony heads your words, raising both hands and stepping back, "I guess someone hates fun."

"Absolutely," you say blankly, chewing your straw; you point at him, "No laughter."

"None," Tony waggles a finger.

"Not a peep," you remark causally as you spin in your stool and snag your pen from the drawer behind you.

"Any news on the other green guy we hate?" Bruce asks slowly, eyes bouncing between you and Stark.

Your blood goes a little cold. Just like always. It's hard not to react — especially when that other green guy is all you think about day and night.

WHEN YOU LOSE HIM YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO GET HIM BACK.

You wordlessly shake your head. You shrug. Bruce turns to Stark. Tony is hunched over his bench. His words are a bit muffled by the soldering project he's turned his attention to.

"None. According to Thor he just up and poofed. He was in the middle of atoning before the Buckingham of Asgard and... just warped on out."

So you've heard.

"Hill has been working every lead she can but... the Asgardians are a little touchy-feely on the whole 'earthlings in the domain of the Gods' thing."

"Understandable," you mutter absently.

Tony sits up. "Only time will tell."

...Indeed.

Home.

Unit 1131.

Lonely.

It wasn't before all this... It was full to the brim with contentment. It was comfort, it was bliss. It was indulgent mornings slept beneath the covers and bright music in the kitchen. Cheap wine from the liquor shop on the corner and homemade meals. It was "I finally made it".

Now, it's none of that.

Because he's out there — and you know that you don't belong here anymore.

You drop your bag by the door.

Your boots follow in a trail.

Sigurd mews expectantly, and you scoop him wordlessly into your arms as you weave through the chaos of papers and books. Your carpet is hidden beneath a layer of obsession masquerading as research.

But, there's one thing that pulls you back in each time.

It's that photo.

The one Darcy had pointed at earlier.

Loki is being carted off from the now-Avengers Tower. He's looking back at something, and his expression is broken.

It's you.

You know he's pleading with Thor at that moment through a muzzle, desperate to call your name. He's looking at you, being whisked away by S.H.I.E.L.D. as they clear the area, and your voice is silenced by grief.

You wish you had called out to him then — told him you'd find him again.

Regret is a hell of a thing.

Grief, too.

How do you mourn something you never really had? Not here, not in this timeline.

So you stand there, in the dim lights of your apartment, staring at the photo. And you cry. Just like every night, for the last six months.

In your desk, that magical little daisy made of grass waits.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

That's the mission.

Mobius M. Mobius thinks it's funny — back then, man if only he would have known that lil' hunch of his was right. Maybe a part of him did. And... Now? Things are different. I mean, everything is different. The TVA is different.

Loki is different.

They say to be loved is to be changed an' all that.

The first thing out of Loki's mouth was your name when Mobius finally saw him again — and then a word vomit of panic, induced by the death of He Who Remains and... time-slippage as OB called it. Lotsa moving parts. Lots to keep track of. But, ultimately, they're in a better spot than they were yesterday.

1.) Loki is no longer falling through the metaphorical cracks in time.

2.) Mobius did not get toasted alive when standing before The Loom.

3.) He never, ever, ever has to do that again.

And now!

They're in London.

1977, huh. Zaniac.

If they find Sylvie, they find you.

...Unless you find him first.

Loki isn't exactly thrilled.

No, Loki knows better than to get his hopes up. Sylvie isn't here. He already told Mobius that. It's too safe. It's a damned movie premiere. There are no radiation burns, no falling stars, and no rampant gunfire. It's too quiet.

It's a movie premiere and you're out there, somewhere, alone. You're... you're lost. He can't protect you here. He can't protect anything. You... You're all he has and you're gone.

And he's here, wasting his damn time.

Brad Wolfe is about to waste more of his time.

Loki's gaze is sharp. His strides are long, and as they approach the fray, the God stands amongst the tallest of guests. He cuts a mean profile. It's times like these that Mobius remembers he is a God.

(It's times like these that Mobius can also see the ever-increasing edge in his partner-in-time. It's a little... worrisome. But understandable. I mean, rip a God's soulmate from his hands and see what happens, right?)

"So, he's an actor now?" Loki comments off-handedly, his irritation grating his heartstrings in a way that reminds him of who he was before all this. He hates it. But, he's angry. He will get you back. Without you...

Without you, he doesn't know what he'll do.

"Or he's undercover."

As they weave, Loki's brows knot in distrust. "Looks pretty real to me."

It smells like cigarettes and perfume, and the flashbulbs bite sharply into Loki's peripherals. The raven-haired trickster winces, tucking his hands into his slacks.

On the red carpet, X-5 moves from interview to interview. Occasionally his laughter rises above the clamor. Each time, Loki's nostrils flare and he rolls his eyes.

It's when he reaches the end of the line that Mobius moves in.

"Will there be a Zaniac Two?"

The look on Brad's face says enough for Mobius to know there's more going on here than just an undercover bit. Brad's laugh, as equally pained as his smile, just cements the fact.

"Mobius! Woah!" A clap on the shoulder, a big hug. "I used to work with this guy!"

Still a show. Still a weasel trying to survive on his little slice of time.

"We're going to need to catch up," he begins, backing up slowly, "You know, why don't we chat after the show?"

"How about now, maybe?" Mobius counters just as Brad turns on his heel and comes face to face with Loki.

The God sneers.

"Woah. Okay, ha, whole gangs here!" he chirps, "Isn't that... great? Wow. I mean, you look — you look great, Loki."

"Why thank you, Brad."

Brad's eyes are manic, and he's searching the crowd quickly — no doubt looking for an exit. Then, they catch something. When Brad claps his hands together and pats them on both Loki and Mobius' shoulders, the two TVA agents pause.

"Everything alright?" Loki asks, head tilting in faux concern.

"Everything is great, actually, because when I was here," he begins, words quick and anxious as he tries to weave some sort of story, "I met a mutual friend!"

"Sylvie?" Mobius asks tightly.

"No, no, uh, better—"

Loki's jaw tightens. Enough of this. "We have some mutual friends back at the TVA who would like a word, as well—"

"Doc!" calls Brad after finally finding her in the sea of people, turning on his heel and calling out over his shoulder, "I got people I need you to meet!"

And just like that, it's like Loki's whole world splits wide open again.

In the fray of photographers and journalists, in the fray of drinks and the haze of smoke, there's you. You're smiling at Brad, positively beaming. You're bright as a star and Gods, there's no one in the room when you step forward with a laugh.

Your dress is green. Your hair is different.

There's a beauty mark on your left cheek. His version of you has a scar that lies there. A mistimed gift from Sylvie before their period on Lamentis.

"Doc, these are some of my friends from work," Brad points, his hand falling along your waist in a way that makes Loki's blood boil; the ex-TVA Hunter leans close to your cheek, "They're the real deal."

You laugh into your drink, then extend your hand to Mobius. He's trying his best to hide his growing dread. "It's a pleasure."

Mobius takes it and shakes it gently. "And how do you have the pleasure of knowing our starlet, Brad?"

Damn it. He's losing Loki in real time here.

"Doc here did all the practical effects on set for Zaniac," Brad's eyes connect with Loki's — but the God is focused on only you... Her. Until Wolfe digs in with a low murmur meant to do just what it does, "She's a real wiz with her hands."

The God's face snaps. He will kill Brad, he decides. But, then this other-you moves to offer her hand and he can't help but melt.

His fingers are trembling when he touches her skin.

"Have we met before?" comes the soft lilt of her voice — this Variant's eyes are brown. They search Loki's face for a shred of recognition but all that's there between the two of them is raw attraction. A law of time and space unhindered by meddling hands. No matter where, no matter when, you will find one another.

Loki's mouth is dry. Your lipstick shade is a dark rogue. He thinks about that kiss back in the Void. He's stuck there, with your hand in his, when Brad bolts.

Her face contorts in confusion. She pulls away. But, Loki lingers.

He has to... He...

He needs you back.

Now.

#beyond the void #from the void with love #loki x reader #loki x doc #loki x y/n #loki reader insert #loki/reader #loki/you #loki imagine #marvel imagine #marvel reader insert #loki season 2 fic #marvel fanfic

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licorice-tea · 3 months

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The Bane of My Existence

Pairing:Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: some spoilers for Sabaody arc (nothing major), enemies to lovers! strawhat reader, reader and law are both stubborn and argumentative smh, reader is more optimistic though, law is awkward and not great at understanding his own feelings <3

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: part 1/2 for a little enemies to lovers fic! one of my favorite tropes but I almost never write about it... also I've been rewatching bridgerton and was very inspired by the relationship between Kate and Anthony, which is where the title comes from too! (can you guess what part 2 will be called?) anyway, enjoy and lmk your thoughts! :)

Part 2

Sabaody Archipelago is easily one of the coolest places you’ve visited so far. Not that Alabasta, Skypiea, Water 7, Thriller Bark weren’t cool too… but you’re a people person! And to get to see such a diverse mix of groups from all over the world converging here, on one island Archipelago, brings a genuine smile to your face. It truly does remind you of a theme park: from the attractions to the oversized trees and bubbles.

In fact, you’re so caught up in all the splendors of the carnival-esque grove that you don’t realize you’re being watched. Or, followed, rather.

The Heart Pirates, yet another crew from some vague corner of the world, have been tracking you for the better part of an hour now. Except, they’re only following their captain, who happens to be following you.

Hes not entirely discreet about it though, because at one point Bepo asks, “Um… Captain, why are we following them?”

Shachi responds unprompted, “Yeah, I’ve never seen their bounty poster so… what’s up?”

Law scowls, “I’m not following anyone.”

Though he is low-key following you, Law couldn’t give a good reason as to why. You walked past him and his crew on your way to meet up with the rest of your crew- the Strawhat Pirates- and he’d just sort of trailed after you once you’d gotten a safe distance ahead.

“Really? Because every time they stop for directions, we slow down. And we’ve turned at all the same spots, too… So it really does seem like we’re follo-“

“I am NOT following them.” He lies through (literally) gritted teeth.

Now, Trafalgar Law is in now way shape or form a believer in love at first sight. He’s never been in love period… but the feeling he gets from seeing you is something new and foreign. Like, he really wants to talk to you… he just doesn’t know what for. Law is still trying his best to come up with reasons to stop you and ask for your name when you overhear the brief argument between him and his friends.

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you spot a group of at least 10 on your trail. They’re in the middle of conversation, so they don’t notice you taking notice of them.

Your first instinct is to look around for your crew; but of course, they’re scattered across the groves of Sabaody Archipelago by now - as are you. “Sigh. I might just have to handle this in my own.” But, wait- who said they wanted to fight you? Maybe you should just approach them first, wouldn’t that give you the upper hand in some way? (It wouldn’t, but you can’t think of anything better than to try and charm your way out of a possible jumping with your friendliness and perfect smile.) So, you roll back your shoulders and take a breath before strolling back over the grass to your pursuers.

“Why would I be following some rand-“

“Because you have a crush on them!”

“Oh they’re cute, Captain, you should ask them to join!”

“Gasp! Yeah, then you can get to know-“

They all go silent (save for some quiet gasps) as you step toward the semi circle they’ve formed around one man- the only one not wearing a white uniform, who they call “Captain.” You tap him on the shoulder and he whips his head around.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could help me?”

The man just stares at you for a moment with a frown. You fear that you might’ve been wrong about his intentions, until he blinks and mumbles, “Uh… Sure.”

Your smile returns- of course you weren’t wrong! Plus, he’s kind of hot, but you’d catalog that thought and come back to it on some lonely night in the future. “Great! I’m looking for grove 41, it’s where some of my friends are.”

You’d learned back in Water 7 that sometimes, it was best not to disclose who exactly you’re traveling with, nor the location of your ship. (At least, not when you’re infamous pirates.)

“Grove 41? I’m headed there too.”

The polar bear wearing who is also wearing a white uniform clears his throat.

“I thought we were heading to Grove 1, Captain?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to get in y’all’s way then-“

“Nah, I think Captain would love to show you the way.”

“Shachi!” The captain sneers. “We’ll meet back up at Grove 1 after I show them the way." Then, he looks you up and down. It's quick and analytical rather than flirtatious or intimidating. "Don’t cause me any trouble.”

You smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’m y/n, by the way.”

“Trafalgar Law, and this is my crew, the Heart Pirates.” He gestures around the semi circle, then turns to face them, “You guys go take a break or something. I’ll be back shortly.”

“But Captain, we want to go with you!”

One of the men with red hair- Shachi, you’re pretty sure, elbows the polar bear.

“Hey!…” He looks down at Shachi then gasps like he suddenly had a revelation; “Ohhh. Sorry Captain, we’ll see you later!”

Law rolls his eyes. “See you soon.”

There's something about his dark hair and grey eyes that charms you, right off the bat. Or maybe it's his relaxed, confident demeanor. Possibly even his idiosyncratic style of clothing, and how he (and all of his crew) wore the same logo; so very organized and professional. But no matter the exact reason as to why, you find yourself quite happy to be in his company.

Alas, he’s not a very talkative man, so you make up most of the conversation with questions and your own introductory information. “-and that’s how I got here, to Sabaody!”

“Uh huh. And who did you say your crew was again?”

“I, ahem, I don’t travel with a crew.”

“Right.” He laughs dryly.

“What is it?”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I- I’m not lying!”

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what crew you’re a part of,” Law explains, “but don’t lie and say you’re not a pirate at all.”

“Well… it’s generally not a good idea to tell strangers that you’re a pirate. Not even nice ones, like you."

Ignoring the butterflies in his stomach that unexpectedly appear when you call him nice, Law's burning curiosity is fed by your roundabout half-answer. “Ah, so you are one? What’s your bounty?”

“That’s not really any of your business.” Though you believe his intentions to be purely based in curiosity, you're second guessing allowing this man to lead you away on an island grove that you have never visited, nor know anything about. Still, your crew is nowhere in sight or hearing range, which worries you given just how loud they usually are.

“I’m paying you a favor by leaving my crew to escort you to where I’m assuming your ship is located- it’s the least you could do.” Law’s tone is more prickly than before.

“Well, I don’t need an escort, and you’ve already walked me halfway there and pointed me in the right direction.”

“Fine- then I’ll leave.”

His sudden change in mood from what you interpreted as shy to borderline aggressive throws you off. And so, having a similar moody temperament and stubbornness (though you’d never admit it after seeing it so clearly in him), you return the sentiment. “Fine by me.”

You continue walking forward while Law turns back, until he calls over his shoulder. “And by the way; you’ll need to find your way through the lawless zone up ahead if you want to get to Grove 41.” If condescending was a person, it would be him. You’re sure of it. “That, or I could’ve shown you a much safer shortcut.”

You pause, turn to face him, roll your eyes, and continue walking.

“What, you’re still not going to ask for my help?”

“Don’t need it!” Which, you really don’t. You’re plenty strong, but your bounty is small enough to not be worried. “I’m not scared of a law-less zone, if anything I think I’d welcome it.”

Your mocking words hurt his ego in a way he hasn't felt in years, taking him down several pegs.

You don't even stick around long enough to listen to him rebuke everything about you, from your high and mighty tone to your vain attempts at lying, ending his one sided argument with a very classy middle finger your way. So, Law grumbles all the way back to Grove 1 to find his crew, and hopes to never see you again. Meanwhile, you find your way to the other Strawhats. Your adventure with them continues, and you don’t have much time to think of your earlier encounter with a handsome pirate and possible-friend turned enemy (if you could even call him that.)

Law doesn't know if his ego (or wildly beating heart) could take another second in your presence- it just might burst if it had to endure any more of your witty comments or sly looks. It would, however, be an interesting theory to test further, should you ever meet again.

The prospect is both horrifying and thrilling to him at the same time.

#fanfic #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece x you #x reader #law x reader #law x you #law fluff #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #law

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archie-sunshine · 2 months

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RAUGHH, CYBERVERSE SOUNDRODDDD.. Do you have any hcs for them? Like, either NSFW or not. They are so silly and I love them in your art style

I did a post like ages ago about their more nsfw sexual habits, so now i wanna make one about their relationship bc i've been thinking about it way more!

generally for my hornier thoughts, heres a very quick summarization.

but onto more interesting things!!

I think that hot rod and soundwave in cyberverse would absolutely be the ssssLOWEST.... enemies to lovers. arc. in the world. In my mind i think they obviously start as enemies, but before they become lovers or even really FRIENDS I feel like they'd be fuckbuddies.

they share a similar almost frat boy ish energy, with rodimus being more rambunctious and soundwave being almost more professional. I feel like because of his higher rank in the decepticons, soundwave understands he's got a bit more of a reputation to uphold, though at heart he's still the same music blasting punk as he was before the war.

I think hot rod brings out that part of him, sort of that competitive and more fun part of himself that he left behind to be a general and a soldier.

I also like the idea that hot rod would be more hesitant to make their relationship anything more than casual than soundwave would be, but soundwave would never make the first move, so they'd be SQUARELY in a situationship for like. AGES.

I digress though. I think even in a relationship the two of them would be bickering and fighting constantly. I think hot rod is a terrible person to share a home with, and in my mind they'd probably end up moving in as roommates before making things official.

but on a more serious note, I think what really draws them together is a nice healthy dose of trauma bonding.

I think it'd be conflicting to have one of the only people who REALLY TRULY understands what you've been through, the repetition of desperately searching for someone, aNYONE to hear you, watching your friends and loved ones drained and dying and being unable to really do a thing- I think that's something that would have an impact on both of them.

they'd find each other in those moments, whether they say it's coincidence or accident or not, i think they would find comfort in one another.

yeah- god the more i think about them the more I want to write about them. jesus christ. I need to finish the next chapter of survey says so i can write another oneshot.

#archie answers #transformers #my art #my requests #tf cyberverse #tfc #hot rod #soundwave #soundrod #hotwave

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moondirti · 9 months

Text

10. RESILIENCE

CHAPTER TEN OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter nine / chapter eleven ⇀

summary: miguel gives you something to work for

explicit (18+) | 5.1k words warnings: enemies (with benefits) to lovers, SMUT, fingering, praise kinks, edging, miguel is a tease, training arcs, using sex as encouragement, strict mentor miguel, angst, blood and injury notes: this is just five thousand words of banter and filth. am i sorry?

You’ve never been one to reminisce.

Nostalgia, déjà vu – to pull a sweet memory often feels like trying to fish a lightbulb out from the traps of your jaw. Impossible, not unless the glass shatters to cut your gums and you’re left with the bitter aftertaste of tungsten. There’s a barrier preventing it, somewhere in your mind, built to divide your life into two clean segments. Before and after.

The woman you were before the incident at Alchemax had plenty to look forward to. She spent her time shooting way beyond her ground to ever consider slowing down, lured by aspirations far more tempting than the comfortable life she led. Had she stopped to smell the flowers, to appreciate the way lavender lotion felt on her skin or the past not yet marked with blood, you believe things could have gone differently. That too is hard to consider.

The girl you are now is ripe with rot, softening in the places touched by radiation, crystallising in others. To bring anything – a voice, a face, any memory – back from your previous life would mean spoiling it, so you keep it all banked behind that wall. And of course, from the year past, there’s hardly anything new to recall with a smile.

Had you been anyone else, you suppose this could’ve been one of those rare times.

Because the gym is unchanged, exactly as you left it. Realistically, it’s only been a week, and to expect any major upheaval would be counting on a tragedy like the one that befell your Earth. Yet–

Somehow, you believed that coming back could paint it in a new light. Like the ground would collapse where you took him, and the mirrors would crack, all to expose an element you’d failed to consider. One to help you take comfort in the fact, despite your reckless tryst, you’re still here. Returned – which means that all your worst worries were needless, and that this is just a gym, and you are just a person. Perhaps, if you were to pace around that gaping realisation, then your anxiety would give away to thrill.

Would’ve. Could’ve.

It still looks like the roots of your most recent mistake, though. Your tummy knots with it, tangled in that dermal tissue. You’re overcome with the urge to run, in an almost exact mirror of the last you were here. The air brims with promise; not the well-heeled kind, but a twisted sort that makes it hard to breathe. You’re afraid that, whatever happens today, things will only get more complicated. You won’t handle it well if it does.

You’ve never been one to reminisce. This morning, it is all you can do.

When eventually it gets too much to bear, you search for something else while you wait. You’d come early, right out of your third shower of the weekend, to counter the warning he’d given you.

(‘Don’t be late.’)

Shivering, you zip your jacket before arranging your things on the entryway bench. You avoid your reflection on the mirror-lined wall, turning to face the machinery instead. They aren’t conventional, you notice – though a shelf holds an array of dumbbells, they run up to twice the average weights found elsewhere. There’s a frame resembling a medieval torture device; two hand pull mechanisms on either side, both of which are attached to a tower of barbells. To try pulling both up simultaneously would rip an unenhanced human apart, you think. It certainly would come close in doing so to you.

Of the bunch, your least favourite has to be the leg press sent from hell. That’s what you assume it is, at least. In truth, you can’t exactly tell. With a plate large enough to cover your entire lower half, wedged underneath approximately forty thick slabs of solid steel, the pressure alone would be enough to crush you.

You remain firmly within the confines of the hand-to-hand combat mat. Safe, if not somewhat weird for your foul misuse of it in the past.

But your unease is heavy enough to diffuse into your fingertips now. Your knuckles shake with it, and you must do something lest you start clawing away at your palms.

Stretching, maybe.

Yeah. Stretching would be good.

You start with what you know. The familiarity is agreeable enough to lose yourself to it. Five minutes pass; you’re bent into a low lunge. Ten, and you’re forcing your knees to touch the floor in a butterfly spread. Fifteen is when your tendons start to tremble with a warm ache, when you finally feel loose enough to relent and take a quick rest.

It turns out to be fortunate timing. The door swings upon not a moment later, the atmosphere sinking to accommodate the gravity of his presence. You catch his shadow from the top of your peripheral, hanging upside down as it appears from your point of view – laying on your back with your head slightly tipped.

You can’t see his face, and therefore have nothing to occupy yourself with. In its absence, you’re forced to consider the uncomfortable parallel your position draws forth. The only thing missing are his thick thighs, straddling your chest with subdued strength.

Swallowing, you flip around to settle on your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows to take a good look at him. Last night, eyes hot and cloudy with tears, you refused to do yourself the favour in fear that his allure would only exacerbate things. You begin to understand the sentiment when your gaze locks to his.

“Morning.”

“You’re late,” You attempt to joke, grimacing at the awkward timing. The beam on which your relationship stands is precarious, possibly even more so than when you’d been plain-cut enemies. Everything is painted in grey, and it’s near impossible to discern where one boundary branches and the other ends. The confidence with which you once divulged in your humour is lost within the midst – your best bet is to cling to whatever instinct feels right.

Miguel nods, eyebrows raising in tandem to his languid shrug. There’s an almost playful beat to the way he walks, lined perfectly with the perimeter of the mat. You take note of his chosen apparel – his spider suit, perfectly complete save for the mask. A swell akin to disappointment rises within you.

“That expectation is solely reserved for you, fortunately.”

“I see. I suppose heroes have much better things to do, then.”

“Fate of the multiverse,” He waves his wrist, like the barb is easily dismissed. With what you’ve gathered about the man, you’re aware that’s far from the truth. “I still have things to tend to, beyond your containment.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” With the way he’s pursued you – relentless, a panther trapped in a box with an immaterial mouse as its meal – you’d have thought he’d delegated all other responsibilities to his trusted teammates in order to make time for it all. “Coming back from a mission?”

He traipses closer, blinking slowly in the affirmative. Unconsciously, you wiggle away.

“Successful, I take it?” You prod. “That an oddity for you, O’Hara?”

“The opposite.” He mutters, assessing your resting stance with mild intrigue. Your neck throbs with the angle it takes to peer up at him, again prompting a reminder of your last combat session. To quell it, you shift to sit on your knees.

Then, you imagine how your adjustment must look. Worse, likely. Wanton.

(Caveats seem to exist in abundance with him. There is always a but to your actions, a perspective to consider lest you want another misunderstanding.)

“My case being the exception?”

“As it continues to be.”

“I’m here though,”

“You are.” He pauses, inflection softening, as though the argument were fresh news. You half anticipate praise – a recognition of the effort it took for you to return. You’d spent your sleep after coming down that rooftop in a half-conscious state, reaching beyond your feverish dreams to grasp at whatever motivation you had left. You find, the longer he goes without mentioning it, the greater it begins to wane. Like a dying star, sputtering the last dregs of its fuel.

“Early too, I should mention.” You simper. For most intended purposes, it’s a crack at him, a push for the levity today so desperately needs. Yet another, lower part of you already mouths the response you wish to hear.

Good job.

He doesn’t give it to you. “Which brings me to the topic today’s lesson,”

“As a precaution, I should tell you that any of the equipment will likely kill me.” You disclose, if only to brush off the disillusionment, pointing in particular to the leg press.

“We’re not just there yet.”

“Then…”

“You want to know why you failed to pin me down when I asked you to?” He crouches, levelling to a degree closer to your eye-line. Still taller, you note. You steel yourself against shrinking back.

“Because you threw me off.”

“No.” His jaw ticks. “If you had kept with your attack, then you would’ve managed.”

You haven’t given yourself the opportunity to consider the reality of your clumsy attempt. The conversation lulls to make room for your contemplation. You’d thrown yourself onto him – like a glorified backpack – and were too wrapped up in your own panic that you hadn’t noticed his. With hindsight, though, it’s clear as day. He’s right, you could’ve managed. “But I faltered.”

“Exactly.” He echoes. “You didn’t stand your ground, which gave me the opening.”

It occurs to you that he doesn’t know the scope of your supposed error. It had really been the effect of his borderline aphrodisiacal cologne, potent and a dangerous addition to the vertigo that came with being jostled around. You consider pointing it out, a desperate last bid to disprove the very true argument he’s making, until he interrupts:

“Face down, forearms and toes on the floor.”

Your heart clenches with a febrile panic, blood piping hot through your veins at the same rate that your brain detangles the command behind his words. Either you’re debauched beyond reason, or it registers as filthy because he meant it to be. And where you’d usually rely on context, the murky limits of your relationship makes it hard to comprehend. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and decide that the former is the more plausible option.

(Or you can’t admit to yourself how badly you want the latter to be true.)

Either way, you do as Miguel says.

Once across the ground again, you’re able to better process the direction he’s taking you in. A plank: he’s asking you to do a plank. Ironically, you dread it more than you would’ve done the alternative.

You keep your pelvis to the mat, not yet exercising your core strength. He carries on.

“You lack resilience. Not only are you unable to withstand struggle, you don’t think to recover when you eventually fall.” The barbed observations hurt, striking you where you’re tender. It’s the part of you that’s always dissected everything he does into small, digestible pieces, but has failed to realise that he might’ve been doing the same in turn. “The first mark of a hero is their resilience. For you, that means pitting what you want to do against what you need to do.”

Another strike. You’d poked fun at his philosophical approach before, but it’s starting to make sense. Perhaps that fact alone should scare you.

Perhaps it does.

(What you want versus what you need.

Is that what you owe the world, then? Self-sacrifice – some bloody atonement – like you haven’t already bitten tooth and nail in guilt?)

“So, you’re going to make me plank?” You snap.

“I’m going to make you hold a plank. I won’t define a duration; you’ll just have to keep on until I tell you to stop.”

“O’Hara, not to question the metaphor you’ve got going on, but what could I possibly want from that?”

“I’ve only witnessed you work hard for one thing.” He explains. It takes on a different tone than the one he’s been using thus far, though. Gentler, well-versed in the ways of a veterinary placating a feral cat. He’s treading lightly, you can tell that much, but for what you’re not sure. Because you’re close to walking out again, or because he’s about to broach unmarked territory. Whatever it is, it reads as condescending. Your muscles start to tense, like a taut elastic ready to snap, and your critique sharpens for what he’ll suggest next. “I won’t assume, and with what it can do as a form of encouragement, it’s important that you agree.”

“Spit it out.”

He doesn’t know you; you tell yourself. You’ve given him a lot of your worst, and maybe he can decipher a few truths from that, but he does not know you. You repeat the mantra over and over like a soothing balm, attempting to tamp your frantic confusion at this whole ordeal.

“I’ll touch you. Return the favour, goad you along – but only for as long as you’re able to hold it. Drop, and I’ll stop. Pick yourself back up, I’ll continue.”

Oh.

“When I feel as though you’ve met today’s goal, you can cum.”

And then he goes quiet. Deathly still, pouring his scrutiny into your wide eyes like he can read every thought that fires within you. But he wouldn’t be, because there are none. You don’t think. Can’t. It’s absolutely the last thing you could’ve predicted, a declaration so far removed from your worst-case-scenario that it sends you reeling beyond your flesh. You’re watching yourself in third person, a voyeur to the blubbering spectacle of Wraith – blanched and warm and entirely empty-headed. It’s unfathomable, disconcerting.

Then, to make matters worse, you laugh.

In a manner completely unbecoming of the seriousness you’d opted to take this whole thing with, you laugh.

A crowing, boisterous sound of relief that crackles through your chest like lightning. You have to heave huge gulps of air in between to be able to respond. “You’re serious,”

A dark eyebrow raises, the corner of his mouth curling with it. He must find it funny too, and for that you’re thankful. The mere notion injects a molten buzz into your gut. “Yes.”

“So… What – you’re insinuating a mentorship… with benefits situation?”

“No.” He shakes his head, like the title is any more ridiculous than the fact. “I’m giving you the option. You can’t trust your encouragement alone, so take it as something to look forward to. Something to work for. With it, you’ll be able to tell when you’re on the right track.”

“You’re going to Pavlov me into becoming a hero.”

He blinks. You meant it as a joke, though he seems to be taking it into account.

“If you don’t-”

“I want to.”

It’s said so quickly that you regret not faking a moment of deliberation. Really, though, there are only three things that occur to you:

Your contrition following last time was solely based on your fear of having overstepped.

The bottomless itch in you demanding some sort of recognition for your efforts remains unaddressed.

And him. It’s such an abstract reason that you can’t exactly name its contribution to your answer. Just that it’s him who’s asking; patchouli infused, broad-shouldered and stubborn Miguel O’Hara. The same man who you’d bet your life on wanting nothing to do with you, whose claw marks still scar the flesh above your wrist, whose venom still undoubtedly lingers in your system – making itself familiar with the chambers of your heart, that which you yourself can’t map. The very same man you can imagine being a father to adoring little children, because despite all the evidence to your feud, he’s also the same man who answered your curiosity about the 2099 space station with patience. Who’d cradled your neck between that rubble and refrains from calling you Wraith since you expressed your distaste for it.

Who felt so heavy on your tongue, pulsing and so fucking thick you wake up some mornings to the phantom feel of it stretching your lips.

Desire begins to gnaw up your bones. Changing your mind now would be the most blatant betrayal of oneself.

(What was it you promised earlier; to cling to whatever instinct feels right?)

“Extend your legs then.” He doesn’t let you dwell on it. “That means hips off the floor.”

You adjust yourself into a proper plank position. Or, less than proper. Miguel takes several issues with it, rising from his crouch.

“Your elbows are too wide apart.” His foot nudges your arm until you bring it parallel to the other, straight beneath your shoulders. “Evenly distribute your weight to your forearms and toes. Everywhere else should be rigid.”

“Like this?” You turn to assess his expression. Already your lungs clench in exhaustion – this isn’t as fun as you thought it’d be.

“Of course not. Stop trying to look at me. Face down, you’ll hurt your neck like that.” The air swooshes and you assume he’s crouched back down, near your middle. A large hand grazes your belly. It tickles. “Contract it.”

You try to, but the slightest movement causes him to come in contact with you again. It’s over your jacket, just the barest of touches, yet it’s enough to make your form go weak. Your legs almost give out.

“Sorry– Just…” You huff a nervous laugh, adjusting yourself the second his warmth pulls away.

“Not just your abdomen, but your glutes too. You should feel like the rope in a game of tug-of-war. Full body tension.” You tune in to every syllable, triggered into every command like a well-rigged machine. “Yeah, that’s it.”

The acknowledgement makes you preen. It must affect your stance too, because he promptly clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Most importantly, you don’t want this.”

And he finds the small of your back – right where your ass curves upward – to guide you back down, completely straight. His hand doesn’t leave you afterward, either, warm enough that you can make out the contours of it through body heat alone. Somehow, it stirs you even more.

Your groan is so pained that you hope it’s from exhaustion and not pining. “How much longer?”

“Really?” He deadpans.

“I feel like I’m going to collapse.” Your hips dip.

“I haven’t started the timer yet.”

His fingers slide along your pelvis, tracing it around the curve of your waist, down to where you’re sinking. Then, he lifts you back into place – anchored right above your pubic region. His press now is firmer, nudging into your flesh with the pads of his fingertips, and you can’t help the nauseous thrill arising where they do. They brush beneath your baggy top, skimming the precarious edge where your pants’ hem dives to skin.

You feel like the pages of an old book, flipped through an array of different scenes.

The first and most blatant is the discomfort that starts seizing control of you. Miguel insists you haven’t begun, but your unfit body is already suffering from positioning alone. Contracting your muscles proves harder by the moment, fragility skipping along the tissue until you’re convinced of the temptation to just let go. Your feet are unbalanced, and the unforgiving ground does a number on your elbows. The thin sheen of sweat beading across your hairline can only aggravate your suffocation, not cool you down as needed.

What’s harder to focus on – for all its monopoly on your mind – is how intentional his caress is. Every shift of his hand is practised, hovering right around where you need him but never doing anything about it. If he hadn’t admitted his course of action, then you would have tricked yourself into calling it professionalism. But while you can’t see him, his smirk is almost palpable – like humidity that makes a temporary home in your lungs – and you’re confident enough in it that you’re able to name him a tease. He’s teasing you.

The amalgamation of it all sends you into overdrive. You’ve only begun and you’re already yelling.

“The timer!”

“You’re making it worse for yourself, you know.” He says, though moves to fiddle with his watch.

“You’re a little shit, y’know.” But he’s right. Talking amplifies the fatigue.

“I’ll add that to the list. Right next to cocky bastard.”

“Don… Don’t forget sadist–”

“Hm,”

And, as if to emphasise its inapplicability, he cups you.

From behind. Dips his fingers in the space between your thighs, winds them to the front of your groyne, and palms your clothed cunt.

Your skin prickles.

“Fuck!”

Static envelops your arms as they phase right through the floor – momentum stopped only by your chin, which remains corporeal. If it weren’t for your tongue, which slips to wedge itself between your teeth, then you’re sure your jaw would have shattered on impact. Ichor floods your mouth, sharp, like butter melted on a penny. You groan, rolling around to rapidly blink up at the ceiling, purging the stars speckling your vision.

Miguel just looks at you, expectant. His biceps flex when they cross over his chest.

“That was four seconds.”

“Oh, pleath. Thpare me the lecture,” Upon sitting up, you spit the blood out to your empty side. Your limbs have already reverted back to their natural state. “Not that you care, but it still counts as a personal record.”

“Go figure.” He mutters, helping you back into place. He doesn’t have to correct your posture this time. “Back to zero.”

Silence follows the beep of his watch.

Really, it’s more of a mental hush. You force your mind to scour all preoccupations to the backlog, cleansing the forefront of it to steam-pressed sterility. What had caught you off guard was your lacking focus on the physical; if you had been aware of the smallest movements coming from behind, then perhaps his touch wouldn’t have prompted you to phase out. You hadn’t even noticed his gloves retracting into his suit.

Your tongue is still sore with incisor shaped indents, and you vow not to repeat the mistake that caused it.

So, you focus on what’s happening rather than what could. Baby steps, one second after the next, waddling until you find a gait that suits your rhythm. When anything but your abdomen aches, you readjust. Your shoulder joints aren’t supposed to tense like that – you can almost hear him say – so you work on fixing it. If your toes begin to hurt, then clench your calves. Dig your nails into a fist, it helps take away from everything else.

The air conditioning unit hums evenly from all around you. The echoes of other spider-people outside filter in with it. The combat mat has a vinyl surface that zips when you scratch it. The material of his suit smooths tacitly across your jacket. Your breath is as consistent as you allow it to be, stunted when you exhale.

Your sweat is itchy as it dries to your lip. Your ribs pound where they fractured a while ago. Sinew wears down the longer you continue to flex it. He flicks the trim of your leggings, stroking the valley of your spine. Your palms split as your nails plough further into them, marked with crescent-shaped beads of red.

Varicoloured motes float by your nose. Somewhere, hitchhiking on your train of thought, there’s a confusion. No stream of sunlight exists to highlight them. They shouldn’t be here at all.

But then Miguel slips in, ironing over your cotton panties. Your whole body knits together, bracing like a compressed spring. There’s nothing you can do without making him stop, no jump or grand feat that promises release. You can’t even see the finish line, the marker an uncapturable notion, a rainbow moving away at your same speed. So, instead, you revel in how unwavering he is.

His hand strokes over the line of your ass, about to push downward to where you need him most, before deciding against it.

To pinch a cheek.

He… pinches the swell of fat, right where your rear curves to your hamstrings.

It’s rough enough that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

“Nmmgf–” You sulk. “Don… Y– T-tease.”

“Se te olvidó. Squeeze your glutes.”

The sarcastic yes sir dies in your throat. Your face is aflame – from the work out, his ministrations, the revelation that when he reaches your cunt, he’ll be greeted with a humiliating mess. Your thighs are spread apart, yet your underwear still slides over your core, jostled by his intrusion and too slick to provide any real friction.

That is, until he nips the fabric to bunch up between your lips. It stresses over your clit, biting down on the fattening pressure there. Pleasure tremors up your nerves, unsure of its validity under such an unfamiliar sensation. Your subsequent moan is almost miserable in contrast.

“P-Ple… O’H-ra.” To punctuate your plea, you purse your bottom as hard as you can. A physical signal, a question – is this good? Is it not enough? But all that manages to do is worsen your lust. Adding to the fire tenfold, potent as a gallon of petrol. You try to remain steadfast in the face of it all – this calamity, bombs upturning battlefield soil, to keep yourself in the position he’s asked of you.

But fuck if it isn’t punishing.

“Mierda– that’s it.” He curses. You’re at the point where it’s enough praise to urge you along. “You’re soaked.”

You hadn’t noticed his index and middle digits, finally fondling over your hole. Fabric still separates you, bunched tight right over the weeping thing, but as you hold out, he moves it to the side. It snaps away like he’s vocally ordered it to stay that way, his whims laws of physics in their own right, and you use that skewed rationale to supply the basis to your obedience. You couldn’t have done this alone – in no universe, of the hundreds you’ve visited, have you ever thought of it. You’d purchased gym memberships for their showers and walked right past the purpose. In your own world, you’d wasted your limited free time in strangers’ beds.

There’s always been a deficit of purpose in your life. For a brief moment, you’d found it in the stars. Now, with Miguel, you’re granted every ounce you might’ve missed in between, if only to experience what it would be like to unravel by his touch.

And he leads you to it like he’s been trained in your precise anatomy. Blunt fingers implant onto your electric centre – that bundle of nerves overfed by the edging – circling, harsh and rough and fast enough to spike wrecked sobs. Your eyes cloud with desperation, foggy tears budding at your lashes and flowering down your sweat-slicked cheeks. His thumb responds, thrumming along your opening to test its elasticity. Upon deeming you ready, it dives to plug you shut.

It’s delicious. You’re beyond delirious. He’s got a grip on you in every way; spiritually, his philosophy for today echoing as your only tether to reality. Mentally, with his stupid fucking lesson and this god-forsaken plank. Physically, strong arm literally hooked into your cunt and coaxing new slick with every quirk of his fingers.

Which press down with a vengeance now, bearing on a trillion little synapses that flare up, liquifying your guts into a viscous substance, heavy as it sloshes around in you. Everything is screwed in, bolted to the same position he asked for – you don’t dare let go. Not as your heart stutters out of beat, finding the pace he dictates instead, flicking over your clit unhinged. Not when the digit that fingers your clinch twirls in place, searching for the lewd sounds it can create. Or with the following squelch, your lungs flaring – embarrassed – at every consecutive one thereafter.

He’s talking, whispering, goading you along. You can’t hear any of it. Either dirty talk or reprimand, it’s lost amidst your self-doubt.

Because truthfully, you can’t persevere through this much longer. The tunnel continues to unroll before you, the light at the end waning dimmer and dimmer. How wonderfully poetic, you brood; your whole spider-hood spent chasing salvation, navigating through one purgatory to the next, only to lose sight of your little prelude to heaven.

You want this – so much so that the word begins to blur with need, and Miguel’s lesson gains more relevance. You want this so bad that you’d worship every atom, every callus of his, from cuticle to elbow.

(Resilience. Resilience. Resilience.)

What you want and what you need.

Which is which, again?

You can let yourself go now, suffer through a shameful orgasm by collapsing to the floor and holding his wrist still to fuck yourself onto. It isn’t so much about that anymore, though – that pure sexual gratification, the most basic of requirements.

It’s about the thing you’ve been wishing for the whole morning. Approval, the cue that you earned it, filtered through his encouragement alone. Not the physicality that manifests as a screeching voice inside your head, but his own – unadulterated, smoke-charred, the slightest of accents scorching its edges. And whether you like it or not, you can only gain it by enduring this test.

(He walked into this gym with the assumption that you’d want your way, and need his.

Funny, how things turn out. It’s completely the opposite.

Perhaps he does not know you at all.)

But he sees you.

Watches the rigidity of your muscles, how they stiffen further given your newfound resolve. Observes as you smear bloody palms onto your wrists, and sniff back the cries you’ve let rip thus far. Your heels straighten out, ninety degrees to the arch, your head ducking to ensure your torso is as straight as can be. You hardly feel the pain anymore.

And you see him.

Or – the vague shape of his hand, tucked beneath your leggings. It’s dark, shadowed by the overhead fluorescents, but the bump is big enough for you to pinpoint when exactly he makes his decision. It halts, breaks away a smidge, and comes back with a renewed vigour.

“Can I!”

“Go.” He permisses.

(And it’s cataclysmic; both everything and nothing all at once. The bout of deathly quiet before matter meets antimatter, where magnets lose their function and you think you can hear the pitter patter of a pulse, erratic at your wrist. And when the ground rocks, trembling with an explosive magnitude, mass converting entirely to energy. When you roll into a ball of fear–)

You wind impossibly tighter, all but forcing his fingers from you. It’s terrifyingly strong; your orgasm wrecks you not in ripples, but as one metre-high wave, floodgates open to the mat beneath you.

(–and your best to embrace a quick death.)

Miguel aids you down to lay on your back. When he lifts his wrist to check the set stopwatch, his hand glistens with your juices. You're compelled to wipe it off, raptured by humility like he isn’t the one that just fingered you into oblivion.

“Two minutes.” He says. “Good.”

“That… that was only one-twenty seconds?”

“Talk about a personal record.” You huff. “Shut up.”

chapter eleven

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mythicalgeek · 2 months

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I ship Zutara and Aang is Great

Im a big Zutara fan but one thing that I hate is when some fans think that means I somehow hate Aang, witch I dont. I love all the atla character's and I think Aang is a wonderful protagonist with a well developed coming of age journey about staying true to your values and maturity into a strong hero and person.

I just like Zuko and Katara more as potential romantic leads because I prefer there chemistry and there relationship growth throughout the series is just so beautifully developed and had the potential to be an epic enemies to friends to lover's arc. I also think a romance between them would fit the themes of avatar more and enriched the overall narrative better.

I love Aang and was never and will never be anti kataang because I understand why a lot of people ship them. I actually did sort of ship Aang and Katara a little in the beginning but then crossroads of destiny happend and the rest is history.

We can all like we what we like because this is fiction at the end of the day and we dont have to be toxic about it, and that goes for all side's.

#avatar the last airbender #zutara #avatar aang #avatar netflix #katara #zuko x katara #prince zuko #zuko #pro zutara #pro aang #netflix

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monakisu · 3 months

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How did the cat tank arc make you like torisai?? Isn't that the chapter where Toritsuka literally betrays him and doesn't believe in him at all, until Saiki shows how unconditionally kind he is despite the betrayal?? And then he still says he has a shitty personality afterward...

TOXIC YAOI BABY!!!!

saiki will diss toritsuka as much as he wants, will drone over and over how the author should just go ahead and kill off what's obviously deadweight—yet when the chance for precisely that comes, he still risks life and limb to keep this nuisance safe... and toritsuka will whine and whinge abt saiki-san's hardass rules but he still thinks of him as a god?? "our god has returned!!"—i think that's what he cheered when saiki's powers came back, lol? he clearly worships saiki as some super powerful entity/deity, yet he still has the audacity to beg him for dumbass pervert favors... i've never witnessed this breed of worshipper before... fascinating specimen.

their relationship has a sort of an "enemies to lovers" flavor, except in this case it's more like "haters to enemies to haters again with a tad bit more understanding for each other". at this point, toritsuka mayyy be saiki's closest confidant? arguably the one who knows saiki the best! (subconsciously. he's too dumb to consciously realize it.) he'll likely be one of the first people saiki turns to whenever he needs help, which sucks because toritsuka is sorta useless, power and personality-wise HAHAHA

also toritsuka is probably the only (non-familial) person saiki is so flat-out MEAN to! it's hilarious!! yknow how romantic partners are supposed to bring the best out of each other? Not Happening Here. in the slimy presence of toritsuka, saiki is at his most honest but also his worst. toritsuka is the antithesis to the emotional support puppies zookeepers will pair anxious cheetahs with; he's more like........................

lice.

yeah. he's the lice in saiki's fur. plainly speaking, he's a pest!!!

also toritsuka's betrayal was sorta necessary in my opinion, because this guy's too damn dumb to learn a lesson the normal way. he absolutely needs to be put into Situations in order to walk away with at least a teeny tiny sliver of character growth. and i definitely credit a huge part of his betrayal to kusuke's psychological warfare. pitting a super-human cambridge genius against a sub-human highschool dumbass... poor, pathetic toritsuka never stood a chance!! still, the resentment he'd been harboring definitely also contributed to his backstabbing. howeveeer, now that he's seen firsthand saiki's affection for him, that resentment has vanished! he's been shaken to his core!! the worship has been amplified to the MAX!!!

lastly, i just think it's hopelessly hideously HYSTERICAL to have the world's worst womanizer fall in love with a man!! and have the world's most sexless guy fall in love with a future sex offender!!! they're so fundamentally incompatible it loops back around to being compatible?! it's a real comedy. tragedy. tragicomedy. (saiki and toritsuka would doubtlessly view it as a tragedy)

lastly-lastly: height difference. that is all.

thanks sending for this ask! it let me think (<< very rare) and put into words why i actually like torisai besides "hehehe hater x hater". writing all of this made me like it even more!! but i think this may have made you despise it more? oops. my tastes are strange and off-putting. i mean, kusuke is literally my favorite saiki character, after saiki himself... that's gotta tell you something.

#mailbox 💌#美迪 archive #torisai #saiki kusuo #toritsuka reita #saiki kusou no psi nan #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki k #art #artists on tumblr #digital art #doodle #rkgk #画画 #插图 #涂鸦

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urrockstar-xe · 1 year

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got your back - j.m x fem!reader

posted may 16th, 2023 2:13 pm

anon asked: HII for your summer lovin requests how about prompt 9 “don’t have enough middle fingers to tell you how I feel” and 14 “i’m personally offended you didn’t get me to be your fake date” with JJ maybank with an enemies to lovers arc🤭 (fem!reader please!) thank you so much 🫶

9:“I don’t have enough middle fingers to tell you how I feel” | 14“I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date”

picked gorgeous bc i thought it fit :))

this is my first writing enemies to lovers so i'm so sry if it's not that great but i tried and it's kinda cute imo lmfao, it's also Not at ALL canon. i hope you enjoy, ty for requesting *heart* (it glitches out whenever i put an actual heart) - xx

masterlist

word count: 1.4k

“I’m personally offended that you didn’t get me to be your fake date” You glared at JJ as he spoke, earning a wink in return before you looked back at John B.

“You’re working the event so I’m the fake date,” John B explained, though no explanation was needed.

“We really have to do all of this? Can’t Sarah just hang with us tomorrow? It’s not like we have all summer or anything” Kie teased. Sarah had this kook party with a bunch of adults and fancy alcohol and appetizers that she really did not want to attend, and because John B had to save the damsel in distress, he devised a plan to whisk her away into the night.

“Hey, why aren’t you going?” Pope asked, looking at Kiara. “My parents have to sort out something for the restaurant tonight”

“Meaning, Kiara is our getaway driver” John B smiled, confident in his planning abilities. Pope looked back at John B, “Heyward’s not working this event, what do I do?” John B then looked at JJ, hoping he’d come up with something on the spot. You sighed as Kie stood up.

“You could just chill in the Twinkie with me while we wait or something?” She shrugged, John B clapped his hands together, “Yes that’s perfect!”

“Alright, guess that’s what I’m doing then,”

“Great! We’re all ready then?” John B asked, backing up as he looked at his friends. “Yeah, Jb you can come get ready at mine,” You said, almost missing the look of distaste on JJ’s face as you spoke, John B nodded in response. “See you all there then?” Everyone agreed, settling on this unnecessary plan.

Two hours had passed before you finally made it to the Cameron residence, you and John B spotted Sarah almost immediately, she was helping her sister with something. You tried to stay tuned in to what John B was explaining but you were sidetracked, looking for JJ among the group of kooks. Once you spot him you sighed, almost with relief? No, JJ was reckless and kooks were scary. You were just glad to know he’d be on your side if any of Topper’s friends managed to corner you. At least you had hoped he would be on your side, sure you bickered a lot but you were pogues and when it came to a kook, you’d have each other’s backs.

You watched as he charismatically smiled and laughed at any of the dumb jokes made by the older kooks there, no doubt hoping to earn a few tips before you all had to make your exit. His hair slightly bounced whenever he moved and his skin looked pretty with the orange and yellow hue thanks to the sunset, he looked pretty all fancied up.

You jumped at the sound of John B’s voice snapping you out of whatever trance you were just in, you felt his hand on your shoulder. “You okay?” you looked up at your friend, nodding in response. He nodded with you, looking over your face as if to check if you were lying before he held up a small folded piece of paper. “I’m gonna go get this to JJ, you stay here or mingle or whatever, I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.” He explained, not giving you much time to answer before he walked away.

Looking back in the direction of JJ you saw him already looking at you, he winked at you before he downed one of the cups on his tray and continued his best act yet. You scoffed, not being able to help the smile on your face.

You watched as John B tried to be stealthy, giving the note to JJ before turning in your direction and motioning behind him, implying he was going to the Twinkie. You raised your hands in a “what do you mean?” motion as a response and got a shrug in return before John B turned and made his way out of sight, leaving you alone.

You sighed and attempted to look for Sarah among the people there, hoping you could make the escape with her. You found her not too long into searching, she was talking to JJ, well She was talking, JJ was just handing her the note and then almost dancing away.

Before you could get to her she was already gone, following the direction you had just watched Jb leave in. “fuck” you muttered to yourself, hands falling to your sides in defeat as you examined the crowd once more for the familiar blonde.

You watched as he walked inside, assuming he was trying to leave without getting interrupted by anyone wanting a fresh drink. This was your last chance to not have to worry about finding the Twinkie on your own so you practically ran trying to catch up to him.

Hearing the voice of Rafe stopped you dead in your tracks, and the way JJ responded meant Rafe was intentionally starting shit, but that of course didn’t surprise you.

The situation was obviously escalating so, taking a breath in, you began walking again, straight into the lion's den. “Hey,” the sound of your voice caught JJ’s attention first, he was currently pinned against the wall thanks to the oldest Cameron sibling being on a power trip. JJ’s busted lip was clear as day from where you stood, finally, Rafe turned to you absolutely fuming.

“Fuck are you doing here?”

You crossed your arms over your chest hoping it didn’t look like you were shielding yourself from him before responding. “Don’t you have something better to do than pick on a teenage boy?” Your tone was harsh and mean, exactly how you wanted it to sound.

JJ’s eyes flicked between you and Rafe for a minute before Rafe let him go, his eyes not leaving yours as he did so. JJ looked back at you, not missing the way your harsh demeanor faltered ever so slightly once Rafe was no longer preoccupied with JJ. “C’mon, J, they’re waiting for us” Your eyes remained locked on Rafe as you spoke, JJ nodded, “Good talk, man,” he said, making his way to your side before you grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out of there.

Your hands were still interlocked when you made it far away from the house enough to yell at him. “What the fuck was that about JJ?” he shrugged, “you know how Rafe gets, he needed a punching bag” “How come that punching bag always ends up being you?” “Must have a crush on me or somethin’” he joked, a smile covering his lips. You scoffed.

“Did you at least get one good hit in?” his smile grew bigger at the question, “oh yeah, nice big ol’ bruise will be on his jaw within an hour” You smiled at this, rolling your eyes and shifting your gaze behind the boy instead of on him. “Worried about me, mama?” his tone was teasing. “You get murdered on my watch I’ll be cast out of the friend group,” you teased back, not missing the way he stepped closer to you, only inches away from your face now.

He nodded, “damn, tell me how you really feel, Y/n/n” You grinned back. “I don’t have enough middle fingers to tell you how I feel”

JJ laughed in response, your face softened before you spoke again, “Seriously, try to steer clear of Rafe Cameron for a little while”

“So you are worried about me” you rolled your eyes, “if that’ll make you listen, yes, I am worried about you” JJ smirked in a way he only does when he’s up to something, eliciting a sigh from you. “I’ll listen even better if you let me take you out sometime?” you looked up at him through your eyelashes, studying his face to make sure he wasn’t fucking with you. The way his face softened the same as yours had a few seconds ago confirmed he was genuinely trying to ask you out.

“For real?” You ask, he nodded eagerly, his smile returning. You smiled back, nodding your head “Okay, you can take me out,” JJ fist-bumped the air, you laughed.

“C’mon, everyone is waiting at the Twinkie”

“John B is not gonna believe that you actually said yes,”

“I can’t believe I actually said yes,” you joked, getting a laugh in response as JJ threw his arm around your shoulder.

#jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj mayback x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagines #obx fanfiction #outer banks x you #outer banks imagines #obx imagine #Spotify

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absolutebl · 6 months

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10 Best BL Shows with the Hottest Sexitimes

Because this is English and word order matters, this title means the show itself has to be good AS WELL AS the scenes high heat, as opposed to the best sex scenes in BL. The two are not necessarily the same list. Anyway I tried to pick both high heat and a fun show. This was hard (pun intended).

FYI expect triggers with your high heat.

(Oh right. For me to get a 3/3 heat rating the BL has simulated sex in it or very close to it. And usually one or more other sexual acts like bjs, a-ply, etc...)

So, I went to the spreadsheet, and sorted it by high heat and then ranking, and here is what I got. I think #1 will surprise you. What will not surprise you is it's mostly Thai and Taiwanese.

10. TharnType (and follow ups)

Thai 2019 Viki

Should it still rank, all these years later? I am sorry to say, yes it should. University setting, great acting and complex characters, interesting friendship groups, enemies to lovers, seriously angsty coming out, high production values, AMAZING chemistry, multiple BL side couples with all the issues, damaging queer rep, strong seme/uke and husband/wife language, classic tropes and lots of them bad. But it's famous for a reason.

This was KinnPorsche before KinnPorsche.

9. Addicted: Heroin

China 2016 Viki

When Chinese BL was good it was very dirty good and when it was bad it was censored. This is the model for that statement: rich kid falls madly for the genius poor kid in his class, starts an aggressive pursuit, includes kidnapping for love, obsession, stepbrother trope, plus some cheating. I love this BL because of what I could have been. Just stop watching it after The Sex Scene. Okay?

8. Love Stage!!

Thai 2022 YouTube

This BL surprised me with its charm. The acting was good, the leads were appealing, support cast on point, and the production values high. It followed the original manga story arc relatively closely: boy falls in love with girl as a child, grows up to discover girl is actually a very pretty boy. Although there are some quintessentially Thai changes that mellowed, softened, and extended the romance arc and heat levels.

7. HIStory 4: Close to You

Taiwan 2021 Viki

Nancy Chen directs, the side dish plot is basically a pastiche of problematic BL tropes inherited from the above. Great chemistry, high heat, stepbrothers, dubcon, obsession, stalker etc… They sexy tho.

6. My Day

Pinoy 2020 YouTube

The set up on this one is enemies (also boss/employee) and they don’t like each other to start. But that gets resolved pretty quickly. And then they are some of the cutest, hottest, and best boyfriends ever. This is an under-appreciated BL, IMHO.

5. Cutie Pie

Thai 2022 YouTube

Very high production (and heat) and a lot of visual references to live action yaoi gave this show a whiff of Japan but ultimately it stayed firmly in Thailand’s BL camp veering from absurd to appealing to annoying and then back to absurd again. If you can roll with the arranged marriage conceit and very lifestyle D/s relationships, the chemistry is spot on even if the plot is naff and driven by miscommunication. Watch this one for the pretty, give it a pass on depth. (It has depth, it just depth of tongue kisses.)

Also the follow up: Naughty Babe

4. Bed Friend

Thai 2023 YouTube but for high heat you'll net to watch on iQIYI

Office frienamies transition a flaming hot one night stand into a f-buddy relationship that is built on a puppy/cat dynamic (and kinks into it at one point). Our puppy is loyal, smitten, and protective with endlessly longing eyes, while our cat is snarky, prickly, and deeply damaged (ALL THE TRIGGERS). NetJames give lovely high-heat with excellent chemistry and tuned-in performances of surprising depth, unfortunately the story ultimately failed them. Had the show had the strength of its convictions and kept to a tighter, darker, harsher 8 eps it would have been the first high heat to earn a 10/10 from me, but once they fussed with it, it dropped to a solid 8/10. Could have been great but was overworked. Still if high heat is your thing, this one will not let you down.

3. HIStory 3: Trapped

Taiwan 2019 Viki

Basically the definition of enemies to lovers from Lin Pei Yu. This is a cop + the mafia man he is chasing but WAIT, they fall in love. Added bonus side couple: assassin and nerd cop ALSO falling in love. It’s great. All the leads are stellar. Its high heat, fun action, and a bit of a mystery drama but pretty about all of it. My only warning is that the main couple doesn’t entirely end up together, it’s implied, but… amorphous ending.

2. Why R U?

Thai 2020 Viki

No one knows what’s going on, not even the characters, but absolutely no one cares 'cause it's so thirsty. The plot seems to be "great chemistry and make sure Zee's shirts are NEVER BUTTONED PROPERLY." We, the collective, have a pro Hawaiian shirt anti-button stance, so rah rah rah! Still the most confusing thing about this show is: why they didn't just title it YRU? The FighterTuror sex scenes still stand as some of the best every fielded in a Thai BL.

1. Be Loved In House: I Do

Taiwan 2021 Viki

A cute classy office set BL with a few plot raised eyebrows, but no other concerns. ALL THE TROPES plus a general sweet softness that’s pretty rare from Taiwan, who usually prefer to go hard, but all their signature domesticity. There is one high heat sex scene and it's great. But it's the whole package of classic sappy Taiwanese BL that puts this at the very top for me.

Generally just v high heat?

Hottest sex scenes in BL is frankly gonna be largely a matter of your personal taste.

But if the ones mentioned above don't work try:

KinnPorsche

Love in the Air

Big Dragon

HIStory 3; MODC (the BL that shall not be named)

Be Mine Super Star

Manner of Death (and anything else with MaxTul)

Oh My Sunshine Night (sides)

Secret Crush on You

Wedding Plan

Most dark JBL has very good high heat, but... ya know.

For @samara44 by request.

(source)

#best bl that is high heat #good bl with good sexitimes #recommended bl #taiwanese bl #thai bl #chinese bl #pinoy bl #TharnType #Love Stage!!#HIStory 4: Close to You #Cutie Pie #Bed Friend #HIStory 3: Trapped #Why R U?#high heat BL

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collegetennisoriginstory · 2 months

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So, I was romancing Sam on every playthrough but decided to branch out finally, and now I have a tier list; ‼️Potential spoilers‼️

Tobin: By far my favorite RO. I typically don't like the archetype of "brooding ro and their charming ro counterpart" It just doesn't interest me as someone who has seen a lot of het romances employ this trope. But giving Tobin the chance they deserve and finding that I like how they respond to my MC's own flirtatious nature and then discovering how they feel about my MC being the same gender, just adds an extra layer of interest for me that I appreciated. They're kind, considerate, and very thoughtful of their friends. Very quickly blew the rest of the competition out of the water for me. I think their mindset when it comes to tennis explains why they're not the no.1 Seed despite being the captain of the team, and it honestly surprised me. I think the full weight of their route is explored best when MC is similarly looking to go pro as it parallels Rayyan nicely. Their kidness is the space they give you is born from experience and the fear of doing to MC what was done to them and I just eat that stuff up. Also it is very rare to have a black RO who is treated with any level of depth, and I just 🥹love that we Tobin.

Rayyan: In a surprise twist, Rayyan gets the second spot for similar reasons as Tobin. I think the enemies to friends to lovers(partners) arc that is presented in their story is intriguing. Like Sam, they have a level of history with the MC that makes them familiar when heading into the new space, so I made it a habit to stay near them when at all possible. Rayyan isn't particularly cold, or as cold as ppl might assume, I think they have a very good balance of being a sort of quiet and reserved person that still manages to be personable. I feel that playing like I do, my MC might've come off as flippant to them, which only adds to the anxiety that they feel going into this season. Their struggle of being visually Arab in a world and country that sees non whiteness as punishable is very felt. It's really special to me that the two most prominent ROs are dark skinned people of color. Sorry for being biased, but even when I wasn’t actively romancing them, they got major points for that.

Sam: My baby gets the third spot and I think that's fair. What i adored about Sam is the pining of a friends to lovers story. I never make the first move with Sam, despite playing very flirty, bc I see my MC with not having to put up a front with Sam. So the things they do or say that signify to others that my MC is looking for something physical aren't used with Sam; they believe MCs closeness with them is strictly platonic while my MC believes that Sam has been lightly rejecting this whole time. Just something about those missed connections get to me. (Also, the varcity jackets!? So cute) Now, Sam loses points due to being away at another university for a majority of the story thys far. Which made me wonder if placing them in a new environment with MC might change things for them. Everything IS different now; so, who is to say that their relationship hasn't run its course? Juicy, but due to lack of presence, I'll keep them at 3rd.

G: They're French. Automatically, a point is taken off. They're also very sexy as a woman (my MC is a they/them lesbian) so I felt that, to remain true to character, I would have to ignore that and see what G has going on. Ngl, they do sort of play out like a romance novel character in the most obvious way so far 😭 no hate though. I just couldn't not think about "Oh, you sexy French student." Whenever they said anything. Smoldering looks from across the room at a crowded college party, like okay 400 days of summer <3. I think they're rather perfect for players who are looking for some steam outside of the locker room. They have the same issue as Sam, as in, they're not present in the locker room. They're not our teammate, so we don't really get the same level of relationship building with them as u would a Rayyan or Tobin. And I don't think that's a bad thing necessarily. I feel that speaks to the amount of work put in to make the team feel real and not just thrown together characters. Once I started to romance my teammates, I found it hard to flirt with anyone else, as I felt that they just didn't understand my MC on the same level.

Felix: ngl, they'd have to get security to get me off them, I have this burning rage in my heart whenever they show up. "🤼‍♂️ This is for Tobin, Cakepop‼️" I am sure there is indeed depth to them as a character, I am sure it hurts to hear someone say "I can not love you the way you want me to." And we are only human, we don't always behave the way we want to. But Felix makes my nipple itch they just remind me of men who just hold this anger for their exes unreasonably. I think there is an interesting parallel to be found in a Tobin route MC and Felix. I just don't have the language to put it together bc I will never romance them and I don't think I ever will, personally just can't bring myself to do so. They are what I felt Rayyan would be, and I'm fine with meeting them with hostility.

All in all, I'm glad I branched out to see what the other ROs were like it's definitely a testament to ur hard work and is greatly appreciated. I will continue to be messy and kiss Tobin, Rayyan, and Sam because I am toxic aim to be a learning experience, not a lover 🫶🏽

Oh my god~ It was so interesting to see your gradual evolution / journey through pursuing the different ROs.

I think it's really interesting in particular to see how Tobin's character is sort of 'hidden' beneath multiple layers, and you have to really work at unpeeling those layers, and it's really rewarding as a writer to see that route 'give' readers so much unexpected joy.

And, of course — I have a soft spot for stoic / unexpressive, overly-competitive, serious characters who are secretly just a giant sap. For Rayyan in particular, I think their drive to excel at tennis is counter-balanced against their loyalty, their ride-or-die-ness with the people they love. I love the extra bit of psychoanalysis that you did regarding Rayyan's anxiety about MC not taking tennis seriously, which is fine on its own, but really becomes an issue if they're partnered.

Sam having less 'screen-time' than the others is totally fair, and I think (or hope) will be made up for by the sheer amount of history they share.

As for the whole "French sexy" stereotype, I actually do think this is a crucial part of G's arc. The idea that perhaps they both see each other as 'archetypes' at the start (the jock-fling during one's exchange year, the sexy french exchange student), and then as they start understanding each other as real people, and then as they start (possibly) falling in love with each other (with all the eccentricities, all the imperfections), the relationship takes on more depth and dimension.

Finally, thank you so much for taking the time to explore all these different routes, and I'm so glad that doing so was rewarding for you :) I absolutely loved reading this message, so thank you also for sharing! It's always so fun listening to how different MCs, or different MC choices, and just different readers in general — have different takes on the ROs!

#college tennis: origin story #if #ct:os #interactive fiction #asks #rayyan #sam #tobin #g

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 6 months

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i think i've said this before but i want to elaborate on it. i genuinely feel like the spop crew wrote c//a as some sort of torture p*rn. they know that people usually find an enemies to lovers arc sexy and intriguing. but the problem with c//a was that their fights were never equal. i don't know about y'all but when i think of enemies to lovers, i think of a dynamic where both individuals are at least somewhat on equal footing. i don't think about a relationship with a huge power dynamic where one of the characters is helpless and weak while the other takes every opportunity to torture them.

adora never tried to harm catra apart from self-defense, she always held back when she was fighting catra. she tried to reason with catra or just hold her off. meanwhile catra never held back on hurting adora. not once.

and all of this is framed as “hot”. it's framed as “sexual tension”. it's framed as “gay pining”, even though it's not. not to mention, most of the “homoerotic” fight scenes are where adora is either weak or helpless in some way. she's either restrained or too scared to fight back or actively stopping herself from injuring catra. and catra takes advantage of her kindness.

so what's the torture p*rn part of this? well. torture p*rn is basically a trope where a person (or multiple people being tortured) is the main attraction of the plot. c//a is supposed to be enemies to lovers, meaning they should be fighting equally, right? especially since adora is stronger and the “chosen one”, you'd think she'd definitely be defeating catra a lot more.

but no, most of their conflict is catra taking joy in harming adora. these scenes are framed in a more “intimate” way, with catra often touching adora without consent, saying vaguely flirtatious yet threatening one-liners and overall fueling the whole “sexual tension” part.

just take a look at these scenes. i can't completely blame the fandom for thinking these are sexy or erotic because they are framed that way. the crew themselves have admitted that c//a were supposed to have some sexual tension (despite being teenagers for at least two seasons, mind you) and it shows. adora may look scared or uncomfortable but it doesn't matter because the writers wants us to think that this is hot.

villains being creepy and borderline perverted is not a new thing, it's something that mainly came with queer-coding villains. but people often only do this to villains who are supposed to stay villains. and especially with the context that catra supposedly “loved” adora during all this, it just adds another layer of discomfort. it just feels like catra is taking the opportunity to not only hurt adora but also make her deeply uncomfortable by touching and interacting with her in a way that she did not consent to.

keep in mind that whenever adora has the upper hand, the show never frames their fights as homoerotic or weirdly intimate.

most of the time, she uses long range attack or she just goes on defense. the one time she attacked catra head on, she just decks catra in the face and is done with it. she doesn't cross catra's boundaries, she doesn't act flirtatious or touch catra inappropriately. the only scene where she can be described as “flirtatious” (though i would say she was just being smug) was when she wasn't attacking catra, but instead destroying one of entrapta's robots.

(and of course with no remorse, catra orders entrapta to activate the self-destruct on the robot so that adora could be blown to bits.)

so yeah. just because catra is a villain doesn't mean she has to be a creep. if the goal was to make her sexy (which is still weird since she was a teenager but regardless), there are other ways. there have been plenty of villains who are attractive and have a charming personality without being a total creep to the protagonists. for example, azula from ATLA is widely known as a queer awakening for many young girls because of how attractive she was (i know she was also a teenager. these are not my words, i'm just quoting the general public). and yet, you never see azula being creepily intimate with any of the protagonists. she often used long-range attack and she only goes as far as using some condescending language. it's just weird to write a villain who we should sympathize with, but then also make them a total creep.

#spop critical #spop #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti catradora #anti catra #anti c//a #anticatra #antic//a #anticatradora #anti spop

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wangxianficfinder · 2 months

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In the mood for...

Feb 20th

~*~

1. Hello, when you do the next itmf could you please rec some fics that shows wangxian’s relationship progressing? And I don’t mean like friends to lovers or rivals to lovers or whatever, I mean like the actual relationship. Like them both at the start being all shy and giving each other gifts and learning what the other likes and dislikes, and then slowly gaining confidence in their relationship (in the physical aspect but also in the emotional aspect)

Thank you !!!

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 762k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement) it’s not focused on the relationship but it’s a good part of it and they get together in the second chapter and it’s SUCH A GREAT STORY

💖🔒love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

A Thousand Things by tickertape (M, 108k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX not adopted by Jiangs, developing friendships, miscommunication, misunderstangings, nightmares, hurt/comfort, panic attacks, WWX’s fear of dogs, slow burn, cultivation world bureaucracy)

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2. itmf fics that people refer wwx as lan er furan but it's m/m fics. thank uuuu.

Baby, You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet by TriviasFolly (E, 132k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Omega LSZ, Mafia, Crime, Sects are Clans, Feral WWX, Feral Omegas, Nurse WWX, Dark LWJ, Dark WWX, Possessive LWJ, feminine WWX, wwx's cannon desire to be a sugar baby/trophy wife, Breeding Kink, Mpreg) Technically it's "mxy" being called Lan furen (bc wwx is hiding out as mxy) and it doesn't happen until a little later in the fic but it does show him trying to learn the furen duties and things

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3. any unrequited fics from lwj's side? not really unrequited more than works, but i just wanna see the pining.

temporarily unrequited.

not actually unrequited.

the tag search on aot doesn't really have a lot from lwj's side and even if it does, it's very minimum so i'm looking for some which are slightest bit heavy on the angst.

like lwj resigning to being his friend/enemy/stranger so he doesn't force his feels. just angst, possibly with a happy ending but also works if it isn't.

thank you so much!

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending) I'm not sure if this is what they want but When the Words Stop Coming has LWJ reject WWX at first, then when he comes back, WWX rejects LWJ (kindly, but there's still a lot of angst). Happy ending tho

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm (E, 170k, WangXian, Modern AU, Getting Together, Pining, Porn, like in the writing and also as a plot point, onlyfans au, repressed LWJ, sex worker WWX, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Background ChengQing, background NieLan, background XuanLi, Nonbinary NHS)

you've ruined my life (by not being mine) by cicer (E, 132k, WangXian, Modern AU, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love, Awkward Flirting, teenage romance, Shameless WWX) are both good modern AUs from LWJ’s perspective where he PINES for a good portion of the story until they work things out!

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4. hi!! thanks for everything u do here!!! for the next itmf: canon divergence fics where wangxian get together early (eg, during the cloud recesses lectures, before/during the war or anytime before wwx's death) but wwx still dies (and gets resurrected) like in canon. arranged marriage, a/b/o, mpreg, all/any settings are fine!!

🧡 Like Rabbits by Setari (T, 41k, Kid fic, Canon rewrite, Mpreg, Miscarriage scare, Crack treated seriously, Hopeful ending)

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5. thank you for all your hard work! any modern setting fic recs where wwx has a modern setting equivalent of the golden core transfer for jc? can be an organ donation, can be him being a scapegoat for smth jc did, can also be a golden core transfer still as long as it's in a modern cultivation setting, etc. thank you in advance :)

🧡🔒 Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 160k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP) I am absolutely feral about this one and cannot recommend it enough!

💙 the soft animal of your body by sysrae (T, 15k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern culitvation, Golden Core Reveal, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Animal Transformation, Shapeshifting, Sort Of, Getting Together, Confessions)

❤️ All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 52k, wangxian, modern, reincarnation, sugar daddy, kink negotiation, gentle dom LWJ)

💙 this river runs to you by sundiscus (T, 53k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mutual Pining, Dragons, Literal Sleeping Together, Tender wound tending)

❤️ the best of you by sysrae (E, 41k, WangXian, XuanLi, Modern AU, College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, slightly undernegotiated kink, but in a very soft and consensual way, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, JFM and Madam Yu's A+ parenting, Dysfunctional Family, Mental Health Issues therapy is good actually, the most tender of railings, Reference to animal attacks/animal cruelty, descriptions of past violence)

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6. Hi thanks for all the work that you guys do !! I was just in the mood for fics where the juniors get to meet YLLZ!wwx !! I saw a fanart on twitter and since then I’ve had a massive craving for this :) thanks so much again !!

❤️ 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)

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7. hi! do you guys have any fics to rec where jiang cheng is the one who finds a-yuan and raises him? i don’t mind if lwj is there tbh but i really wanted to read a-yuan growing up in lotus pier. thank u! no jiang cheng/lan wangji shipping please! i’ll take them as friends, co-parents even qpps but no romantic relationship between them if possible @thwispsings

The Accidental Baby Acquisition Club by nerdzeword (T, 26k, jiang cheng & lan wangji, wangxian, Found Family, as in they find kids, and then they're family, JC and LWJ as reluctant best friends, coparenting with your brother in law, a surplus of bunnies, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Autistic Character, Nonbinary Character, Fluff)

none lives forever, brother, and nothing lasts for long by eena (M, 38k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LSZ raised at Lotus Pier, JC found him first, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation)

So Reluctant To Part by quietellen (Sociofemme) (G, 49k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, accidental resurrection, JC raises LSZ, Golden Core Reveal, Grief/Mourning, Injury, Recovery, WQ Lives, JYL Lives, NMJ Lives, XY Dies, JGY doesn't marry QS, Enemies to co-parents)

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8. hi! ITMF fics focusing on the Twin Jades of Lan? I just read “Turn Left” by kianspo and loved the focus on the brothers. Bonus points if Wangji and Xichen are described as actually looking like twins, but it isn’t necessary! Thank you!

and he sang about the stars by nenyanaryavilya (M, 29k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Brotherhood, Growing Up Together, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst, Grief/Mourning, Canonical Character Death)

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9. If there is any fix where wwx was harrassed by jin guanghan and then his family preferably lwj goes all feral @itzweiwuxian

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10. Hello! Thanks for your work! I am in the mood for fics exploring LWJ PTSD from the Sunshot War.

I was reading “Take My Breath Away” by MajiLovePrincess (E) and it’s briefly mentioned he gets startled by fireworks, and the concept fascinates me!

Thanks for you help!

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11. I'm itmf a good railing. Any new fics out with top LWJ and bottom wwx?

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12. Hiii, I’m looking for fics that are Jiāng Yànlí critical but don’t have the tag “Jiang Yanli bashing”

I reread the “A Matter of Time” series and I just need it lol. @kyuubikuroba

🔒The Second Hand Unwinds by trulywicked (E, 46k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Time Travel Fix-It, JC, Bashing Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Bashing Jiāng Family Bashing, YZY Bashing, Time Travelling LWJ, Protective LWJ, Fluff, Minor Angst, Minor Character Death, Wooing, Inventor WWX, Genius WWX, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, frankencanon, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Protective Gūsū Lán Sect, Supportive LXC, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Protection Squad)

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13. hiii! i'm itmf some wangxian get-together during cr era? idk if that's too broad but idm if it's a oneshot or multichap. i just want wangxian realising their feelings much much earlier lol

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons by starandrea (G, 2k, WangXian, Accidental Marriage)

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14. Hi there! I am looking for fics where Wei Ying gets discouraged from pursuing Lan Zhan because he is not showing any reciprocation. I absolutely need there to be a happy ending because as much as I want to be in my feels for my Wangxian I don't want my soul crushed. Thank you! @professional-fangirl75

🔒a flower beyond the edge of the clouds by RoseThorne (T, 531, WangXian, Soulmates, Character Death, Red String of Fate, Suicide, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Angst, Rejection, Loss, 16 years of mourning, Regret, POV Third Person, POV LWJ)

Honesty is the Best Policy (Except if You're an Asshole) by piecrust (E, 22k, WangXian, Porn with feelings, College/University)

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15. Hello! In the mood for fics where Wei Wuxian takes back his core from Jiang Cheng? Preferably in a big dramatic scene that reveals he gave it away in the first place? Thank you~!

Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 72k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Temporary Amnesia, Slow burn) there might not be dramatic scenes but here are some fics where JC loses WY's core

🔒 Flawed and Free by Vrishchika (E, 18k, wangxian, major character death, time travel fix-it, dark LWJ, dark LXC, dark gusu lan, temporary character death, not JC friendly, angst, hurt/comfort, WIP)

Having Enough (of your foolishness) by makexianxianhappytoday (T, 18k, wangxian, Hurt WWX, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, Wangxian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Canon Divergence, CSSR and WCZ Live, Not Yúnmèng Jiāng Sect Friendly, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, (but what are the consequences), not JC friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

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16. Hello! For the I’m in the Mood for a Fic, I recently read "say it's here where our pieces fall in place" by Lirelyn, where one chapter had an awesome poem quote. What other fics have poetry? They could be quoted in the beginning of the story, in the middle. I'm looking for anything, canon, modern, etc. I once read a fic that had a poem that gave the impression of a leaf that is uncurled to resemble a fist, but I don't remember what it was. @ihavetothinkofaname

❤️ Where the nightingales are singing, and a white moon beams. by Moominmammashandbag (M, 52k, wangixan, jin zixuan & lan wangji, no powers au, grief/mourning, aftermath of war, angst w/ happy ending, reunions, fluff & smut)

Chapter 5 of The Wild Geese's Tomb by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (T, 66k, wangxian, LXC/JGY, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, all women live no women die)

Gentle Exile by rynleaf (E, 9k, XiSong, Post-Canon, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, References to Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Character Study, Epistolary, Post-Canon, Exploration, [PODFIC] Gentle Exile by flamingwell, semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

To Love What Is Mortal by treemaidengeek (T, 22k, XiSong, Post-Canon, Grief/Mourning, Fluff and Angst, Healing, past 3Zun, past SongXiao, background WangXian, background SL & WN, & LSZ, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, [Podfic] To Love What Is Mortal by flamingwell)

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17. Hi! I have a request for the next ITMF- I'd love to see LWJ as plant parent! "Lavender Blue" from Anaphoricae and "in the blossom season (in the pouring rain)" from Varnes are a few of my favourites. Completed modern AUs, or Modern with magic are preferred, but I'll check out anything. Thank you for the work you do :D

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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morglien · 2 months

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actually no now im gonna talk about it now! yes theres the scene with the knife fight. yes people like it. (maybe for a reason? who cares anyways) yes if you look at the ship for less than 5 minutes you can summarize “oh they don’t like each other, they must be enemies to lovers”. but if you actually look at the ship for more than two seconds you actually get to see their arcs and how they do respect each other, and hell if you’re even playing as shadowheart or lae’zel and playing the characters correctly, they can share some sort of chemistry there! even look at their backstories. two characters who have been wronged by their goddesses. two people who are used as tools for a higher purpose. if you play the game a certain way, they’re both characters who are learning to actually live their own lives despite their religion. they’re people who have been conditioned to understand the world in one way; it is cruel, so you must be cruel back. they did not have a soft or kind backstory in any sense due to shads’ shar worship and lae’zel’s githyanki uprising with vlaakith as their leader. maybe people like the ship far more than what is there at surface value? maybe people like the chemistry that these characters can possibly have. if you can’t understand that or even try to look into the ship than the Bare and Obviously Little Media Comprehension that you may have, yeah, maybe they are tropey. but if you actually read into it and see them what they could be as a couple, you’ll see there’s FAR more for their dynamic than the shallow “enemies to lovers”. and anyways people can do whatever they want forever who gives a shit even if they don’t look into that deep and just like the enemies to lovers who cares. get a life if you judge people on their ship preferences, loser.

#spitting on you rn anon. PTOOIE. Get out of here #shadowzel #shadowheart #lae’zel #bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3

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blueparadis · 1 year

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❝ BACKWARDS ❞ + BYAKUYA KUCHIKI.

( cw. )—› f!reader, angst, stranger to (fre)enemies to lovers, canon typical elements, slowburn, widower!byakuya, soul society arc spoilers, arrange marriage , mention of death,smût descriptions. word count :: 3.2k | redirect to blog navigation.

( syn. )—› after an emotional whirlwind, byakuya was given a chance to recuperate his irrevocable losses but little did y/n know that it was not what he asked for and he could never have what he wanted to ask for; hence, she had to face all kinds of retaliation from him.

( notes. )—› submission for ‘a change of pace’ collab by @mekiza . also, please accept this Sawn ( @swanphantasm ) ; it is because of you that I became aware of how handsome ( and sad ) he is. well . . .he is not my favorite but i like him a lot, so much so that i wrote that same cliche trope with him. forgive me </3

Words do not express emotions and thoughts precisely. They always become a little different when they are expressed; a little distorted, a little foolish, and a little bitter at some times yet life still goes on carrying a bevy of misunderstandings. It has to go on at least for Byakuya, who was stripped of love and time. Time to grieve, give and forgive, time to heal, and time to fall in love again.

Another bright day washes over the lush green spread of the garden despite the despondency and the agony of losing his wife, Hisana Kuchiki, to illness, to mere illness . It has been a few months since he became the head of the family even though his grandfather was still alive. His grandfather thought it would be better if Byakuya became the head of the family while he has still time, time to supervise him to keep up the family's reputation at hard times.

And so it began: the hypocrisy of rules.

Ginrei Kuchiki, the former head of the Kuchiki clan, when death was knocking at his door declared that Byakuya needs to be re-married. He knew that even if he was the head of the family he had no freedom to exercise his wishes and desires. He was just a scarecrow now , not the head of the family. He wanted to protest. He was aware that he would have to re-marry since he is the only one to carry the family line but he did not know that it would be so soon. All he wanted was time but everyone was running sort of it. His grandfather once said that decisions made in haste yield no good. What happened to that now, huh? However, there was one thing he was free to do, and that is, to choose his wife regardless of the family background and bloodline.

“You should be grateful that Byakuya has agreed to marry you even with all the rumors. He could have chosen a wife from the younger line of pure women” Y/N’s mother spoke as she kept on brushing her daughter’s hair, body shaking with excitement and tension brimming at her fingertips. She was not trying to hurt her. She only stated facts. Everyone knew about it. Y/N did too. Shihnōin Clan was one of the four noble families in the soul society. And the fate of the clan was hanging by the thread since Y/N’s previous marriage was full of woes. With no male heir she was the one to carry the bloodline. Even the distant families warded off when they had an ounce of the knowledge that Y/N was the reason for her husband’s death, for her own doom. And her father made it clear that she is too young to stay unmarried as soon as her husband was buried. No time to lament, nor to grieve. Tragic, is it not?

No. It is not. It was anything but not tragic. Sure, people talked, spun lies, and spread rumors but that is what they do, that is the only thing they know to do. Some said she poisoned her own husband; some said she was a witch of dark magic; some even go as far as saying that she had a secret lover who belonged to the low caste who killed her husband; But it did not matter what they said, it did not since if anything they helped to her to earn sympathy from the kinder souls, and Y/N’s mother made sure her daughter had no problem to have a stable life, finding her a proper husband and sealing the fate of Shihnōin clan with the Kuchiki clan. To people, it was more of an alliance, to the respective families, it was more of a marriage of convenience than a marriage. But to her it was a re-birth while to him it was just duty.

It was the fourth of January when her heart beat again hearing the sound of carriage. He is here.

Y/N could hear low voices from downstairs. Plain and prosaic but she could spot Byakuya’s voice out of them all. He specifically requested to see y/n alone and her parents did not express any objections. If she had not been married before, they would never have let her alone with a man, but as it was they thought they did not have to defend her virtue anymore. And Y/N could never tell them how wrong they were, that her previous marriage was never consummated. How shall she ever say that to him?

Byakuya was decent enough to knock and Y/N made no hurry to open the door. She bowed down, greeted him with a smile, and retreated towards the couch standing, waiting for him to follow her lead. “I hope you're aware of the circumstances of our meeting today. ” He seemed so restrained and controlled, as if his emotions were bottled up so deep inside, not even he could reach them. It is a wonder how much of it was the result of his wife’s death and how much was his natural disposition.

“Yes,” she said, hoping he could not see how nervous she was. She gestured toward the couch to the left. “Would you like to sit down for our talk?”Byakuya nodded. She sank down on the sofa, and he took the armchair across from her. She would have thought he would sit beside her, but he seemed content to keep as much space between them as was acceptable.

“I assume your father told you that our wedding is planned for February 14th” Y/N searched for a flicker of sadness or wistfulness in his voice, but there was nothing. She rested her hands in her lap, linking her fingers. There was less chance of him noticing her trembling that way. “Yes. He told me a few days ago.” Byakuya was courteous enough to give her the attention she needs. If all these were in his hands, he would not have been here. “I hope you're okay with this. With o-jii-sama’s health deteriorating and me being the head of the family, things are a little hasty. . .” Words became too heavy to reach her. She was bubbling with excitement that maybe, this marriage won't fail like the last one, maybe he won't flee with his secret lover while staging his death ( like her previous husband did ), and maybe he will see her as a woman enough. . .

“Why did you choose me?” Y/N asked out of the blue unable to keep up with his calm demeanor anymore. She had been wondering about this ever since her father had told her about his agreement with Byakuya. She knew it was a question that she was not supposed to ask, not like this. Byakuya’s expression did not alter.

“Of course. Many suggested your cousin but I didn’t want a wife who’s barely of age. Unfortunately, most women in their twenties are already married, and most widows are older than me or have children, both unacceptable for a man in my position as you will probably understand.” She nodded. There were so many rules and etiquettes when it came to finding the right spouse, especially for a man in his position, which was why so many were shocked when y/n was announced as his future wife. Byakuya had stepped on many toes with that decision. “So you were the only logical choice. You are, of course, still quite young, but that can’t be changed.”

For a moment She was stunned into silence by his emotionless reasoning. She was not as naïve as she used to be, but she would have hoped at least part of the reason why Byakuya had chosen her was that he was attracted to her, found her pretty, or at least fascinating to some extent, but this cold explanation destroyed that small flicker of hope.

“I’m twenty-five,” she exclaimed in a surprisingly calm voice. Maybe his aloofness rubbed off on her. If so, she would be known as the ice queen in no time. “That’s not young by our marriage standards.”

“Yes, still five years younger than me” He sounded as if she was forcing him to marry her, as if one of the rumors, as they say, that y/n is a witch is true. His previous wife was barely a year younger than him and they had shared good five years of married life until she died due to illness on a fine morning on a spring day.

“Then maybe you should look for another wife. I didn’t ask you to marry me.” The moment the words were out, y/n clamped a hand over her mouth, then met Byakuya’s gaze. He did not look angry, he did not look anything. His face was as it always was. Stoic and emotionless . “I’m sorry. That was very rude. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Byakuya has been sitting in the same manner as he did when he first took the armchair instead of the couch. He left the chair and walked towards her. With his hands now inside his slacks, his frame loomed over her. He took out his right hand, fisted, and kept the small velvet box on the side table. “Right. You shouldn't have.” Byakuya said as he noticed her eyes were still on the carpet. “But it's okay. I understand your concern.”

Her gaze flickered toward his right hand and her stomach plummeted. He was still wearing his old wedding ring. Another strange burst of disappointment filled her. If he wore it after all this time, he must still be in love with his dead wife, or was it a simple matter of habit? He noticed her gaze and for the first time his stoic mask slipped but it was gone so quickly that she thought she imagined it. Byakuya did not bother to explain and there was a knock on the door so he did not have the time either. With the exchange another set of pleasantries he left without a proper goodbye.

The wedding day came sooner than expected. She barely had the time to count days. And as the elders of the family discussed, it was small with no engagement ceremony but with just close family members and friends. Y/N did not object, actually, no one asked for her opinion except her husband. But it would make a great fuss if she were to bring her opinions to light. Moreover, she had more serious things to worry about. If Byakuya came to know that she still had her virtue intact, it would be just a matter of minutes for her before Byakuya puts all the puzzle pieces together to get the whole picture. He is a cold, clever man. So, mercy was the last thing y/n expected from him. Her previous husband, her not-so-dead husband fled with his lover because the rules and the customs would have kept them apart. And, if Byakuya had any clue of what happened at backstage he would turn the world upside down, at least he was expected to do so.

Y/N was finally able to catch up with her life when she was in the carriage with her new husband. There was no time to decipher him with all the people around. This night was going to be her first proper wedding night but Byakuya made sure that there was no chance of it at all. He did not seem tired, or interested in her. She could not pin any moment where she caught him looking at her, not even once. Dread and relief filled her at the same time. By now it is okay to accept that she was the problem, not her fate, or him. Perhaps, she can keep the secret of her previous marriage enjoying the little freedom she has left in her life.

The next morning was gorgeously sunny. When Y/N came downstairs she already found Byakuya on the other side of the dining table, with his breakfast and a rolled paper on a tray by his side. God knows, what news it holds? At least, not the one she was anticipating.

“I hope you slept well.” Byakuya broke the stifling silence that had made her think of all the possibilities that could end her life thinking of the contents of the letter. “I’ve already informed the staff to be here. Yesterday was an exception. Hope you did not have much problem without the staff not being around. They will be here at your beck and call, so you do not— was he mocking?

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Is something bothering you?” she nodded letting him know that there was no reason at all with a flimsy smile on her face. She could barely focus on eating the food. Byakuya noticed it too. “I thought you needed time.” his voice was coaxed with an apology. Of course. Byakuya would give her the very thing he was deprived of, for it had been his necessity too; Y/N’s glance switched to him and then to the food again. He did not look sorry though.

“As I said, That’s very kind of you.” She grabbed the tea cup and was ready to leave since there was no one to keep tabs on her etiquette and as such. If he wanted the marriage to work, then why should she keep trying all the time? all these hopes and anticipation would be the death of her if not the secret she is carrying with her.

“There will be a social gathering. On March 14th. You’re expected—She looked over her shoulder as the sound of the dragging chair made it to her ears. Byakuya hesitated before he spoke the rest, “I would like you to come with me.”

“Sure.”

Sure. Byakuya had his reasons to act the way he is acting. He was aware of the details of her marriage. Before visiting her, he made sure to do a background check and he did regret it when he recognized her previous husband. He had seen him in the land of the living. And, now he was not sure where exactly her loyalties lie: to him or to the man who left her. For now, he had no time to think about it. There were some grave matters that he had to handle.

Crest-fallen, a week prior to the gathering Ginrei Kuchiki took his last breath. There were lots of preparations and ceremonies to be done, but at the same time he could not afford to miss the meeting and so it all came down to y/n who had to shoulder most of the responsibilities while Byakuya just paid a visit to the meeting.

Time flew by as if someone were stealing it from them. Even though they spent the days under the same roof, Byakuya barely had a chance to speak to her or make things right. By the time he came to bed, she had already fallen asleep or was too tired to stay awake. Byakuya has been a light sleeper anyways. He often waited for her to be perfectly asleep so that he could slip under the same covers as hers. Y/N was too disappointed and angry to notice the small changes in him, in his gestures. Not that she tried, she did but Byakuya brushed her off every time. It was such a slow poison for her. She had made up her mind not to consummate this marriage unless they were asked for a child but fate never goes along with the human will. It opposes, always .

“You’re early,” Y/N said as Byakuya entered the room. Seeing her in a flimsy nightgown he looked away from her. She scowled when she noticed him looking away.

“Could you wait for me? I need to refresh myself. I want to talk about something.”

Ah! finally, it's happening. She gave him a simple nod and slipped under the covers. Perhaps it was about an heir, or shifting into a different house or maybe a visit to other families or so; Y/N had no idea that her secret was going to slap her in the face.

“I see. How long have you been aware?” Y/n asked still facing away from him while Byakua was seated on the bed. “Since before our marriage.” Y/n turned and sat folding her legs, covering herself so that he does not have to look away while talking. “Ah! That’s why the cold shoulder.”

“No. No. I was just—

“Just thought that I might have a secret lover too?

Byakuya closed the gap a little, “Well, do you?”

“Does it matter?”

Does it matter? Of course, it does. Byakuya did not respond not yet but Y/N could see his jaw tightening, muscles stiffing at the mere possibility of a ‘yes’.

She interjected, “Yeah! Thought so.” and left the bed, his sight heading towards the bathroom but Byakuya grabbed her hand and pulled her in his lap. She gasped loudly at such a sudden swift motion but more than so his bold voice declaring something so unexpected something so unbelievable that it turned her on more than it should. “Yes. it matters. It matters to me because I would be bothered, so much that I’m incapable of bearing the thought of losing you.”

Her breathing was heavy since not only his deep raspy voice stilled her motion but also made her thinking come to a halt. Byakuya slipped his hands under her gown earning a huge gasp as his lips touched her bare shoulders. Her body responded quickly, she arched feeling his cold and calloused fingers on her breasts, pinching her areola. “Tell me,”, his voice coated her skin with goosebumps, “do you want this, with me?” She turned her face, eyes holding the tears back, blurring her vision. She was burning with desire. How could she not?

“Yes.” Byakuya’s hands traveled down to her core, rubbing gently on her clit over the cloth. It was already damp. She could barely process all of these while his voice hinted impatience again, “then, tell me where you involved with him, in his act?”

Her grasp on his thighs tightened as she struggled to stand up on her feet. With all the dim lights around it was not of any help. Byakuya pushed aside the fabric and touched the outer lips with more pressure than before. “Do you not want me?” Y/N has torn apart between keeping her self-respect and submitting her to him. She had tried countless times to get his attention, tried every lewd way to lure Byakuya that made her feel like nothing but a cheap whore.

“Do you not want me?” she managed to utter thinking of all those nights when she had to go to bed feeling like a mistress rather than a wife.

Byakuya verbalized holding her in his embrace tightly. “Yes. I do. I really do.”His voice reeked of agony and loneliness, his touch was so desperate yet so gentle. Y/N read him wrong, he was not playing games anymore.

—

⌗ :: @sailewhoremoon @massivementalitynut @tokyometronetwork @underratedcharactercorner

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