#In fact the way he yearns for respect. the way he says he’s afraid of spiders. the way he is marked by the eye. hell even the implied | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyunfilms · 6 months

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blue side of the sky (lmh) | fourteen.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 4.4k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, cuddles, small, sweet kisses, cute gestures of affection, whatever happens later in the chapter - it's really not what it looks like (aka minho means it), minsung heart to heart, flashback scenes - one that is cute, the other that is a bit more angry and full of emotion (some pushing involved), jisung is trying hard to be an equal middle person between his bestfriends and respect boundaries, pls prepare because the next update will not be fun ... 😅

minho: get to work okay?

you: yes!

minho: stopping by?

you: maybe.. ☺️

minho: 🥺

minho: i'm literally just down the street, why is it a 'maybe?'

minho: i never hear chan or seungmin get 'maybe's'

minho: san too......

you: oh please, how would you know!

you: chan and seungmin are my favorites, remember? same thing with san 😉

minho: bye 😞

You giggle to yourself as you tuck your phone in your pocket, knowing Minho is probably sulking after the teasing you've done. A little teasing shouldn't hurt. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you do plan on visiting him during your break and it doesn't change the fact that you really, really miss him already.

And he really, really misses you, too.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | THE OTHER NIGHT

"Y/N?" You hear your name being called, followed by a few soft knocks. You get up from the easel, halting the current watercolor painting you were working on. When you pop your head out of the room, you see Minho looking through the small windows on your door— a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"Hi." You smile up at him. "What're you doing here?"

"Just wanted to see you." You step aside to let him in, bits of the cold, night air rushing in just before you shut the door close.

"Didn't you have class?" He nods, pushing the hood down from his head.

"Yeah, took a quick shower then came here." He chuckles.

"How was it?"

"Good. Tiring." He says, sitting on the edge of your bed when you return to the easel. "What're you working on?"

"Trying to paint one of the flowers from the conservatory." You giggle. "What's your house up to?"

"Nothing. When I left, Ji and Seungmin were playing this board game while Chan was just watching his show in the living room."

"I don't think I'm any better company." You laugh.

"You are."

"Did you teach today, or did Hyunjin teach?"

"Hyunjin. I had to help him figure out his last 8 count though because he didn't know how to close out the piece." You nod as you continue to paint the last strip of pink onto the canvas, setting your brush down off to the side before getting up to keep Minho company.

"Did you eat?"

"Kinda yeah, but I'm not hungry."

"You sure?" Minho nods, pulling you in between his legs. He gently wraps his arms around you and lays his head against your stomach. Minho doesn't say anything, but you can feel him relaxing in your hold— your arms wrapped around him while your hand massages the back of his head. "You okay?"

"Mhm." He mumbles. "I just really missed you." You're not sure if Minho is speaking in the moment, because his actions, the way he doesn't want to let you go, says he's speaking about the past. How he's been feeling. How he's been yearning for you just as you have for him. It's more than a simple 'i miss you.'

"I missed you, too." He looks up at you, resting his chin against your stomach. "Come, let's go and watch something, yeah?" You unwrap his arms from around your waist, slipping your hand into his to lead the way. Before you can walk further into the living room, Minho pulls you back. Your body is pressed flush against his, his hands on your hips and giving them a gentle squeeze. "What?" You shyly giggle.

"Nothing, I like looking at you, remember?" He breaks his silence, a small laugh falling from his lips. He edges forward to kiss you on the forehead, before moving down to your lips; hands squeezing at your hips again to show you how much he loves kissing you.

How much he adores you.

You only smile at him before leading the way to the couch, where Minho plops onto his side and makes some room for you to lay in front of him. There's a debate about which movie is going up, but Minho quickly waves the white flag and surrenders the decision to you. He doesn't mind watching Hocus Pocus even though it isn't remotely close to Halloween yet, he just wants to be here with you;

Holding you, keeping you close.

Feeling your warmth against him.

Minho is surprised that you even make it past halfway into the movie before you fall asleep. He chuckles to himself when he hears your soft snores amongst the Hocus Pocus background noise. He presses a few kisses to the back of your head that wakes you up for a few seconds— only for you to shift in your position and face him.

"Baby, do you want to sleep in your bed?" He whispers, hoping you're still awake enough to hear him. "I can go and let you sleep."

"No." You simply mutter against him, shifting closer to his body as if there was no way you'd separate from him at this moment.

"Okay." Is all he says before he's silently chuckling again, wrapping an arm around you to keep you safe. Because this time, he will. He can't help but press a few more feathery kisses across your face, making sure to give a little more love to your scars.

He missed you.

Really, really missed you.

And this time, he'll keep you safe. He'll protect you, choose you.

Yours.

☁︎ END

"What's the cute giggle fit for?" Mrs. Pak smiles at you and softly nudges your arm, making you shake your head.

"Oh, nothing. I'm just, happy?" You respond in a questioning tone, followed by another small giggle.

"Happy looks good on you, sweetheart." Mrs. Pak chuckles as she helps you get a big bouquet together. "Is it San?"

"San." You repeat his name. "Right, I forgot to tell you about that." You give her a small toothless smile. "Just friends."

"You talked to him?"

"I did. He was very sweet about it."

"Good. How did you do it? Tell me all about that evening."

"It was nice! He took me to that famous unagi restaurant and Peace Piece. Then, he took me to the movies for the Studio Ghibli event. We watched Spirited Away."

"That sounds like a lovely evening."

"It was." You look at her. "He took me to the beach to talk about everything, but he was very understanding about it when I told him I just wanted to stay friends. I told him I thought we worked well this way."

"It's good he was understanding. Says alot about his character and how much he respects you."

"He's truly a great friend. It hasn't been long, but San has done a lot to help me feel comfortable, especially in my own skin."

"That's good." She hands you some ribbons. "How about the one you have feelings for?" You giggle.

"The one that I have feelings for? Hm, he's one of my bestfriends." You fiddle with the ribbon and tie it nicely around the tissue paper to keep the bouquet secured. "He actually owns that café down the street. Sunday Morning."

"Oh, he does? I've gone there before, it's a nice café."

"Mm, yeah. Might pay him a little visit later." You smile at her.

"What's his name?"

"Minho. Me and Jisung met him in high school." She nods. "I'm not really sure how to explain this, but I've always felt something for Minho after I woke up. I feel connected to him on a deeper level—" You pause just as you set the bouquet aside. "Attached, almost."

"Do you guys have history?" You shrug.

"I think so. Wish I could remember. But, Minho said he'd tell me in time. He didn't wanna rush it because he didn't wanna overwhelm me." Mrs. Pak gives you a toothless smile. "I trust him. I know he'll tell me when the time is right."

"That's good. He wants to tell you, I'm sure. But, he's still thinking about you and helping you get comfortable."

"I'm just scared."

"Why scared?"

"I.. I don't know. I don't really know what to expect."

"That's okay. I'm sure he'll tell you, just like you said. When the time is right." You nod.

"Yeah." You simply agree before grabbing a vase to fix another bouquet. "I don't know how else to say it, really. But, I like him. A lot. We.." You let out a small sigh. "Things happened between us already over the past few days. It escalated so quickly? But, I don't think any of this is weird. These aren't unfamiliar feelings."

"Sometimes, the heart just knows."

"What if our history isn't the greatest?"

"Well, that's okay. We are only human, and we aren't perfect." Mrs. Pak softly says next to you. "It's up to you how you'd like to take it, but I would take it as something that can help you grow and learn. We are always learning, and there are always ways to improve. It's never a linear path, my dear." You sigh and nod, eyes darting to the customers that just walked in.

"True."

"Do I get to meet this young man?" You chuckle just as you walk away from the front, looking over your shoulder with a small smile.

"Of course. I'd love for you to meet him and my friends—" At this moment, just as you're about to greet the customers that had walked in, another body comes through the front door; eyes landing right onto you just as you shift your attention to them.

"Minho." He smiles when he hears his name slip from your lips, watching as you tuck your hair behind your ear shyly.

"Hey." He steps in and patiently waits for you to tend to the customers. You walk over in the cutest outfit, with the brightest smile on your face, and Minho can't help but melt.

"What're you doing here, sir?" You joke and he holds up a cold drink and a pastry bag.

"Since you didn't wanna visit, I thought I'd come make the walk." He hands you the drink and food. "Also wanna make sure you're eating."

"I am, or.. I will." You chuckle. "Once I get a little break." You turn to look at Mrs. Pak as she's ringing up a customer, a small smirk planted on her face. "Come." You loosely lace your fingers with his, dragging him over to Mrs. Pak for a quick little meet-and-greet. "Speaking of Minho."

"Speaking of Minho? What does that mean?" He asks, and you simply laugh it off.

"Mrs. Pak, Minho. Minho, Mrs. Pak."

"Oh, he's a handsome fella." Minho blushes, shyly acknowledging her from your side. "You know how to pick 'em." She whispers and teases you. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard quite a bit about you."

"Only good things I hope." He looks at you and you simply shrug. "I hope I'm not being a bother, just wanted to make sure she had something to eat." Minho scratches at his temple. "I'm sorry I didn't bring another for you, Mrs. Pak."

"It's okay." She smiles and nods at you. "Go take your break, I'll be here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, go. It's time anyway."

"I'll be right back." You reassure her even though you know she isn't looking for it. You look up at Minho and he gives her another small smile and a shy wave, rubbing his grubby hands against his jeans when he gives her one last goodbye.

"It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Pak."

"You too, handsome!"

"Please." You mutter just as you turn on your heel to walk out the door and Minho scoffs.

"Wow, someone's in a mood today."

"No." You giggle. "You didn't have to drop by, I was going to come." You start walking towards the nearest bench until you feel Minho's hand gently wrap around your wrist and pull you back towards him.

"Were you?" He pulls you close to him, hands slowly wrapping around your waist. "Cause it almost seemed like you were gonna go visit San instead." You laugh.

"Just a joke." You playfully hit him. "Besides, he's still my friend, you know? You're gonna have to get used to San." Minho purses his lips into a tight smile.

"Right." His slight jealousy leaves when he feels your lips against his cheeks, your eyes falling back onto his— glistening like they hold the entire universe in those orbs.

"But anyways, I was going to visit. Because I kinda sorta missed you?" You say so innocently, so shyly, all doe-eyed and pure.

"I missed you, too." Minho taps the tip of your nose before giving you a chaste kiss to the forehead. He laces his fingers with yours, finally bringing you over to the bench to sit and let you eat.

"What did you make today?" You chuckle when you peek into the pastry bag, finding a thick, fluffy, slice of coffee cake. "Coffee cake?" You look at him and sip on your iced vanilla latté.

"Mhm."

"You spoil me too much."

"I don't, not enough at least." You giggle.

"Shop busy?" Minho shrugs.

"Hm, it's been on and off. The usual. You?"

"Mm, nothing too overwhelming."

"That's good." You both sit for awhile, enjoying the the fresh air, the perfect breeze. Minho has his arm resting on the bench behind you, finger gently drawing shapes on your arm. "You've been feeling okay, right?"

"Mhm. I feel great." You nod and look at him. "It's been nice being able to help Mrs. Pak out."

"She seems very sweet."

"She is." You chuckle.

"You sure we can't hang out tonight?" Minho brushes the hair away from your face.

"Nope. I promised my uncle I'd have a movie night with him. It's the first night he doesn't really have something to urgently work on. Says he can finally sit back and relax for a bit." You chuckle.

"That's good. He deserves some rest." You nod, popping another piece of the coffee cake into your mouth.

"Yeah, he does. Maybe we can hang out tomorrow after pottery class?"

"Here we go again with the maybe's." He pouts, making you laugh.

"I'm sorry. We will, okay? I'll come by and wait for you."

"You sure?" You nod.

"Positive." You check your phone and sip the vanilla latté a little more, letting out a small sigh. "I should probably get back in there. Thank you for my coffee cake and drink." You stand and do a little stretch, Minho following suit.

"Of course. Just needed to make sure you were okay."

"I am, especially now." You smile. "Thanks again. I'll call you later?"

"Okay, sounds good." Minho cups your cheeks and gently caresses the surface before pulling you into a quick, but sweet kiss. "Have a good rest of your shift, okay?" He continues to look you in the eye and caress your cheek before pulling back to let you go. "Call me if you need me."

"I will." You wave him goodbye, turning on your heel to continue your shift. You take one more look at Minho, who is still waiting until you safely make it back to the register before stepping away.

That night, Minho cooks dinner for him and his roommates— setting aside the food on serving plates until they find themselves hungry and ready to eat. He gathers his own plate and pours himself some beer before walking out to the outdoor sectional in the backyard. He pulls up some videos on Youtube, occasionally watching in between bites to entertain himself while also responding to your texts. He's a bit sad since your responses are slightly delayed, but he understands that you've been wanting to spend time with Uncle Adrian, and you should be.

He just misses you, and feels a constant need, yearning, for you whenever you aren't around.

"Yo." Jisung pops out into the backyard from the house, adjusting his beanie as he plops onto the sectional next to Minho. "Just eating?"

"Mhm. I made some extras, they're on the counter."

"Thanks." Jisung leans forward and rest his arms onto his knees. "I'll probably eat a bit later. What else have you been up to?"

"Nothing really. Been kinda bored. Popped in to check on Y/N earlier while she was at work."

"She was okay?"

"Yeah, she seems happy to be there." Minho shrugs. "I met the owner, she's really sweet."

"That's good. Where is Y/N?"

"Movie night with Uncle Adrian." Jisung nods.

"I haven't really texted her today, I've been swamped at work." Jisung lets out a small sigh. "You don't have class today?" He shakes his head.

"Nope."

"Wanna do something then? Where's Channie and Seungmo?"

"Like what? Seungmin is taking a nap in his room and Chan hasn't been home."

"Damn, nevermind then."

"We can hop on FIFA after I eat?" Minho asks him, trying to keep him entertained for tonight.

"Okay." Jisung responds right before nodding towards Minho's phone. "What're you watching?"

"I've been trying to perfect this recipe for awhile, so I'm trying to see how other people bake it." Jisung watches, even though he has no interest in baking or cooking whatsoever. But, it doesn't last long when he's easily distracted by Minho's text tone all of a sudden going off.

One text,

and another,

and another.

He can't help but be a little nosy to see who's blowing up his phone. Surprisingly, it isn't you. And this is the shit Jisung was afraid of.

"Dude." Jisung furrows his brows at Minho's phone, watching the un-named number pop up a few times. Even though it no longer has a name to it, Jisung knows.

"What?"

"Okay, seriously. Can we talk about this?" Jisung pauses the video for Minho before pointing at the texts coming through.

"Shit. It's Kat." Minho groans. "It's really not what it looks like though." He sighs and picks up his phone, briefly scrolling through the angry texts from Kat. All of a sudden. "I cut it off with her completely awhile ago and blocked her number. She's texting from someone else's phone."

"Okay, but you can't say you're done with her and keep the line open. Block that too and be done with it. She's obviously going to keep creating issues if she feels like you'll keep letting her in."

"I'm not letting her in, okay? It's done. Completely."

"Please don't repeat your behavior, for the love of god. I know you hate the nagging. But, how am I supposed to react when Kat is still popping up on your phone even though you claimed you were done with her before?" Minho groans a bit and lays back on the outdoor sectional.

"I really have no intentions of going back. I swear I haven't reached out to her. This is the first time she's trying to text me again on someone else's phone, I'm not even sure why she's texting me all angry." Jisung watches as Minho texts away and asks for her to stop reaching out, blocking the number and deleting the thread shortly afterwards.

"Swear on our friendship?" Jisung asks.

"Swear. I don't know where this is coming from." Jisung sighs a bit and shrinks back into his seat.

"I just.. I don't know. I think we're all just scared about you reverting back to your old ways. It takes two to tango, but Kat has always played a big part in this." Minho sighs.

"I know, I know. I hear you."

"Have you even told Y/N? Because I know you're trying to get back together with her. But, I think that's a crucial step that you need to take first no matter how it makes everything turn out. It'll need some time and I think that's much needed. Not saying I don't ever want you to stop proving yourself and try again, but I think you both need the time to heal."

"I do plan to tell her."

"Alone?"

"It's better if I do."

"When are you going to tell her?" Minhi shrugs at the question and lets out another sigh.

"Tomorrow." Minho solidifies the thought because even though it will kill him to do so, it’s time for him to be honest about it.

"Okay. I just need you to tell her before it's too late, or if she somehow finds out through word of mouth. It'll be harder for her, and it could seriously fuck everything up." Jisung looks up at Minho and he can't even lie, he feels his heart ache a bit seeing how distraught and conflicted he is. He knows he loves you, and that has never changed. He just made the wrong choices.

"I.. I know. I'm going to." Minho swallows the lump in his throat before shifting his attention to Jisung. "I'm sorry."

"I'm just afraid." Jisung says lowly. "It's not that I don't trust you to do better, I just hate seeing her hurt. She's been through so much, and the whole reason I did this was because I just wanted to give her time." Jisung shrugs. "Time to get used to the world and being in it again. I didn't want to see her shrink and hide from the world again. That's all."

"I made some really dumb mistakes, but I wouldn't hurt her. Not again. I'm learning from all of that, and I don't ever wanna go back."

"Yeah." Is all Jisung responds with because of course he wants to trust him. But, he'd be lying if he said he does fully. He can't. Not after he sees Minho prove himself a bit more. "You're going to tell her about that night too, right?"

"Yeah, I have to. I'm sorry, I really am." Minho repeats.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I haven't really been there for you but.. Y/N." He looks at Minho and shrugs. "Maybe time would be really good for the both of you."

"I understand. I really do. However this pans out, I'll be there for her. I'll respect her space and give her all the time she needs." Minho's thoughts shift back to that night, his heart wrenching thinking about it because not only had he broken up with you once over Kat, but he acted like he chose her that night. When in reality, that was never the case. You got back together and things seemed great— until that very night. The argument was huge, Minho can still hear the yelling repeating in his head; over and over again like a fucking siren.

You got back together with him because you trusted him to love you, to protect you and keep you safe.

But, he didn't. He didn't protect you, keep you safe. He acted like he chose her that night.

He let you leave even though he shouldn't have.

"Either way— please." Jisung says close to a whisper. "All I ask is that you're sure this time. No more playing with her emotions, no more second-guessing her. Please mean it."

☁︎ FLASHBACK | SENIOR YEAR IN COLLEGE

When Jisung is finally able to get you to bed so that you can take a nap, he leaves a note saying he'll be back and that he's grabbing some food for you to eat later.

Which, isn't entirely a lie. But, he has other plans right now.

He's fuming as he pulls off to the side of the curb, barely putting the car in park before he's hopping out and racing to the apartment.

"The hell is wrong with you?!" Jisung storms into the shared apartment and pushes Minho.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Minho pushes him back. "Not today, Jisung. I'm not doing this—"

"No, you don't get to do that. I just left Y/N after she's been crying for hours over you!"

"Am I fucking wrong to be honest?! I just think we need some time apart to figure things out."

"Figure things out? You've clearly figured things out. If I only knew you'd pull this and leave her for somebody else, I wouldn't have let this shit happen in the first place." Jisung furrows his brows at him and shakes his head. "You don't even look like you care—"

"Of course I do!" Minho's tone raises. "God, it was the fucking hardest thing to do! Of course I care about her, that's why I didn't wanna hurt her more!"

"Then why do it!" Jisung yells back.

"I don't know!" It falls silent between the two before Minho lets out a breath and runs his hand through his hair. "I don't know what to tell you. I really tried not to, but it just wasn't happening. It wasn't working." Jisung scoffs.

"All because of Kat?" Silence, again. "What the hell has Kat given you that Y/N hasn't?" More silence. "Right."

"I'm sorry." Minho says lowly. "I love Y/N, I do. I just haven't felt in love with her for awhile now. I don't really know what it is, I thought maybe—"

"Bullshit! Not with the way you easily disposed of her and made her feel replaceable." Jisung shakes his head. "You don't get to say shit. There's gonna be a day when you realize that tossing your relationship over one girl wasn't worth it, but I hope you don't come crawling back. Y/N is worth way more than that." Jisung begins to walk away but comes back to face Minho once more, stepping closer towards him. "I trusted you. I really trusted you to take care of her and be there for her. I would've understood if you two needed some time apart, but never would I have imagined that you'd do it over another girl." Jisung probably sound so ridiculous calling his bestfriend out, but what can he say? He really is upset, and he really did trust Minho to take care of you. There wasn't a single thing that made Jisung think he'd ever leave your side. Sure, he noticed Minho getting close to Kat, but he didn't think it'd get to the point of this—

Of hurting you, leaving you;

Making you think you were disposable. Replaceable. Not worthy enough to stay.

Because you are worthy, you are all the amazing things and then some. If it's anybody who would know, it's Jisung. You've always been his other half, and he knows how big your heart is. You've always put everyone else before yourself, and you've always given your all— loved harder than anybody else has loved.

Minho was making a mistake.

But Minho is also his bestfriend, and he knows he would prefer for him to be honest. He wouldn't want him to go behind your back, god no. He just doesn't understand Minho's thinking process, and maybe he never will.

Wasn't this just a phase?

Was it really worth throwing it all away to see if something new would make him happy?

Maybe.

Jisung doesn't really understand it entirely.

What he does know is that he's angry at Minho, and he's hurting to see you cry. What he does know is that he can't really look at Minho right now, and he can't really talk to him. What he does know is that he may not be able to talk to him properly for awhile.

"What just happened here?" Chan asks, confused as he walks through the door. He feels the tension already, and he's not sure how to react. He's barely seen Minho and Jisung like this.

"I don't know, ask him. Maybe he'll tell you more." Jisung diverts his attention to Chan briefly before returning to Minho. "Whatever. Do you, dude. But, keep your bullshit away from Y/N."

☁︎ END

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bluerose5 · 23 days

Text

A Matter of Self-Preservation

Pairing: Zevran/Astarion

Word Count: 5,257

Summary: Zevran did the unthinkable and left Astarion behind in camp.

Naturally, Astarion didn't take so kindly to the fact that he returned injured.

Read on ao3 or continue below.

...

Astarion was trying not to worry.

Fat lot of good that did him.

It was a strange sensation though, he had to admit, worrying about somebody else other than himself. Of course, he brushed off those feelings as best as he could, telling himself that he was only concerned because any harm to Zevran meant that his own protection was compromised.

Caring for his well-being was a matter of self-preservation, and that was all.

Sad to say, Astarion couldn't even convince himself at that point, but he would continue to believe the lie for as long as possible.

Zevran rarely went anywhere without him. He was a fun sort, a kindred spirit. He wasn't afraid to admit that he was a liar, a murderer, and a thief. He was skilled and a professional at that, both from his time as an assassin and from his time fighting alongside his friend, the one that he called "the Warden."

It was a point of pride for him, but he didn't try to pretend to be anything he wasn't.

Astarion liked that about him. He went where he wanted, did as he pleased.

Dare he say, Astarion almost envied him for that, but Zevran was free of his shackles now. They were at different points in their respective stories, so Astarion chose to view him as a source of inspiration, rather than one of jealousy.

Besides, they did work oh so well together.

That was, until Zevran decided to leave him behind at camp.

Astarion tried not to be petty about it, even as he huffed and pouted, but Zevran stood his ground.

Truth be told —although he loathed to admit it— Astarion believed that the reason why he didn't want to stay behind was because he actually liked Zevran’s company.

He liked spending time with him, so he was feeling a tad bit rejected, to say the least.

It certainly didn't help matters that Astarion blew it the other night with him. What should have been a fun night of passion soured in the face of Astarion's ulterior motives.

Zevran was no fool. Astarion would give him that.

He might not have caught on at first to Astarion's act, but he did catch on, and that was the end of that.

Probably what made it worse was the fact that Zevran wasn't upset about it in the slightest. No, instead, he was understanding, and they–they…

They spent the night in each other's arms.

He told Astarion about his days in Antiva, about his adventures during the Blight.

Eventually, he fell asleep —which, a sleeping elf was a sight in and of itself— and Astarion entered his trance.

They hadn't brought it up again since then.

So excuse Astarion for feeling as if he was cast aside!

While Zevran was off with the others, Gale was busy trying to drown out his pain by burying himself into the latest scrolls Zevran got him, and Lae'zel continued training when she wasn't tending to her growing collection of weapons.

Which left Astarion alone with a million thoughts running through his mind.

At first, he remained holed up in his tent, pretending to read a book to pass the time, but it wasn't long before he yearned to feel the sun's warmth on his skin again. It was a bright, beautiful day, one that he did not intend to waste.

He set out on a walk along the river to stretch his legs. Well, it became more like pacing at times, but it got the job done nonetheless.

After a while, he slowed to a stop and stared out over the water.

Willing his mind to calm, he stood there, basking in the sunlight. With his arms outstretched, he closed his eyes, lost in the moment. He stilled his mind in a way not too dissimilar from how he meditated throughout his trances, but it didn't take long before his thoughts ventured to other matters.

It was all too easy to revisit their night together in the safety of his own thoughts.

He could still feel his lips tingling from a multitude of kisses. He could still feel the heat of Zevran’s body pressed up against his.

He could still smell his blood, could still taste him on his tongue, warm yet sweet.

It was so potent, how his scent clung to the air, even now.

Wait.

Astarion's eyes shot open.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled, long and deep.

That wasn't just his memory.

He could smell that familiar, metallic tang of fresh blood.

Zevran’s fresh blood.

Astarion swallowed thickly, his mouth watering.

Without thinking, he darted back towards camp, his footsteps silent, each one as unnaturally light as the last.

The closer he got, the stronger that scent grew.

Astarion heard them talking before he saw them.

He all but materialized out of thin air so far as the others were concerned, popping up behind Karlach without so much as a warning.

His words escaped in a low, threatening hiss.

“Where is he?”

Karlach, being the first unfortunate soul he happened upon, jumped out of her skin at his sudden appearance.

He didn't even wait for her response before rushing forward, but Karlach made sure to voice her unease.

“Fucking Hells, fangs, give me a warning next time you go creeping up behind me, yeah?” she grunted, scowling at him, which he was quick to return with a sneer of his own.

“Apologies for making you feel uncomfortable, my dear,” he deadpanned, “when you're clearly the one whose comfort takes priority right now.”

“No need to be an ass,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, but he paid her no mind.

He shoved past Wyll and Shadowheart to get to Zevran without delay, looking him over the instant he was within reach.

Zevran blinked owlishly at him.

In addition to the myriad of bruises he was now sporting, Zevran was covered in blood, his own blood from head to toe. If he moved too fast, there was the slightest catch in his breathing that Astarion could just barely discern. He cradled his right side when he shifted, but Astarion was able to pick up on the small wince that he tried to hide.

Astarion's head snapped towards the others at breakneck speed. He pinned them in place with a menacing glare, his eyes as black as night.

When he spoke, his lips kept twitching with every other word, itching to curl back to expose his teeth.

“What happened?” he asked, a sharp edge underlying his deceptively calm tone.

“Auntie Ethel revealed herself to be a hag,” Wyll explained, undeterred by Astarion's antics, “so we hunted her.”

He made it sound so simple.

“Auntie Ethel?” Astarion repeated. “As in that old woman that offered to cure us?”

“A tempting enough offer, I might add,” Zevran said, “until she asked for one of my eyes in exchange without elaborating on why she wanted it in the first place. I don't know much about your hags, but she reminded me too much of the Witches of the Wilds from my lands. From my experience, they tend to have more in store for you than they let on. Plus—” He shrugged, completely unbothered. “—I happen to like my eyes inside of my head. They are a pretty pair, no?”

“You have to admire his priorities. Vanity over ceremorphosis. How practical,” Shadowheart chuckled. She leaned around Astarion to smirk at him. “Very pretty indeed, Zevran.”

This time, Astarion didn't even try to refrain.

He bared his fangs at her in warning, but Shadowheart took her sweet time before backing away.

The sudden racing of her heart betrayed her, though. Try as she may to escape it, her baser instincts reacted to Astarion's close proximity with fear. Because, at the end of the day, he was still a monster, and they were still his prey.

“Thank you, my dear,” Zevran crooned. “I knew you would understand.”

Karlach, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, decided to chime in at that point, “We also saved one of the hag’s victims. Mayrina!”

“Oh, but of course,” Astarion mocked. As he continued, he turned his attention to Zevran. His nails had sharpened into claws by then, so he took hold of Zevran's chin with the utmost care, turning it this way and that as he surveyed the damage. “It simply wouldn't be an adventure with you and the esteemed Blade of Frontiers without some grand display of heroism.”

He scoffed with a roll of his eyes, sparing them both an unimpressed glance.

“So long as the damsel in distress is saved, then all is well, right?” His lips stretched into a strained smile, his fangs poking into his bottom lip. He lowered his voice into a growl. “Nevermind the fact that our illustrious leader got hurt in the process.”

Were he capable of spewing venom, it would have been dripping from his lips. It was clear what he thought of them in that moment.

Had he been there, then this wouldn't have happened.

He would've stopped it, watched Zevran’s back better than any of them ever could.

Zevran allowed Astarion to poke and prod to his heart's content, but he could sense the tension spiking amongst those gathered.

“Hey, I'll have you know that not only did we save the damsel in distress, all heroically and what-not, but I also deceived the hag into rewarding me with a boon of great power,” Zevran told him. “Well worth a few bruises here and there, I must say. I know that I have suffered far worse for way less in the past.”

“How reassuring, my dear,” Astarion said, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

“Truly, a win-win situation for all involved. Everyone is happy.” Zevran took one look at Astarion and amended his statement. “Well, almost everyone.”

Astarion huffed.

“Excuse me for being concerned.”

“Ah, yes,” Wyll taunted, “concerned that you won't be able to indulge in your favorite late-night snack again?”

Astarion's body took a step forward of its own volition, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation.

Luckily, Zevran caught him by the wrist and reeled him back in before they could turn the camp into a bloodbath.

“Come now. No need to get so hostile,” Zevran teased, drawing him in close by the waistband of his pants. “Shadowheart dealt with the worst of my injuries.”

“So this isn't even the ‘worst of it’ then?” Astarion snapped, his eyes narrowed, body tense.

“You're welcome, by the way,” Shadowheart interrupted, “for bringing him back in one piece.” She shook her head at both of them. “What a chore that turned out to be.”

“Ha!” Zevran didn't even give Astarion a chance to retort. “What can I say but that I like to keep people on their toes? If my dearest Astarion is so worried though, perhaps he can assist me with bathing. I still have some wounds that need tending to.”

Astarion grabbed his hand the second it was offered, but he ignored the mess of blood, wrapping Zevran up in a tight embrace. With his lips pressed against Zevran’s temple, his gaze darted between the others, never settling for long.

Karlach and Wyll were quick to dismiss themselves, Shadowheart not too far behind.

“On that note, here,” she said. She all but shoved a bag at them, potions and bottles clinking around from within. “Got this out of our camp supplies. Should be enough in there to finish patching him up. Try not to need me.”

She departed then, which left Zevran with a rather clingy vampire to deal with.

Never far from his reach, Zevran grabbed a few more items from their supplies before leading Astarion towards the nearby river.

Zevran furrowed his brow at him in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, only once he was sure they were out of earshot from the others. “My dear, I am hardly on my deathbed here.”

With his bottom lip poked out into a pout, Astarion picked at his claws, intently focused on such a task.

“Of course I'm okay,” he answered. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Zevran said, each word thick with sarcasm. “Hear me out. Maybe, just maybe, I ask because you were one step away from ripping out everyone else's throats a second ago.”

“Hmph, would've served them right.”

“Astarion,” Zevran chuckled, “I thought we agreed that you would only kill people who aren't useful to us.”

“You suggested that once, yes, but perhaps I will choose to ignore those terms.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Zevran raised a brow at him with a smirk.

“Look, I—” Astarion waved his hands around in a vague sort of gesture. Eventually, he resigned himself to the truth, releasing a weary sigh. “I just hate the thought of you getting hurt while I'm not there.”

Zevran read between the lines well enough.

“Is that what this is about?” he asked, head cocked to the side. “You're upset because I left you here in camp?”

“All I'm saying is that this wouldn't have happened if—”

“You don't know that.”

“I know well enough that, had I been there,” Astarion snapped, “then I would have had your back, and you would have had mine.” His lips curled into a sneer. “That hag wouldn't have gotten close enough to lay a finger on you, I promise you that, so excuse me for feeling as if more could have been done to protect you while I had to stay behind.”

That being said, he snatched the bag from Zevran. Rummaging through it, he grumbled as he pulled out a healing potion and shoved it against his chest. Luckily, Zevran was able to catch it before it hit the ground.

“Drink,” Astarion ordered.

“What?” Zevran asked, feigning shock. “No ‘please’?”

“Depends on if you feel confident in testing my patience right now, my dear.”

“You know what, fair enough.”

He pulled the stopper and tossed it back, downing it in no time at all.

Once he finished, he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, staring at Astarion with a smug grin.

“There you go,” he said. He waved the empty bottle towards him as evidence. “All finished.”

“Good,” Astarion said, his arms crossed over his chest. “Now, strip.”

“My, my,” Zevran purred, “if this is the kind of treatment I receive every time, then maybe I should get injured more often.”

“Try it, and I'll just have to punish you myself.”

“You promise?”

Astarion barked out a laugh at that.

“Oh, you are a delight, aren't you?” He waved a hand at him dismissively. “Do be a good boy and get undressed so that I can tend to your wounds as you requested.”

“And you'll stay for the bath?”

“I'll stay for the bath,” he promised. “One can never be too clean around these parts, after all.”

Yes, definitely the only reason he was sticking around.

Zevran watched him knowingly.

Nevertheless, he chimed, “Exactly! Glad we are in agreement! Now, if you don't mind—” Tossing aside his empty potion bottle, he toyed with the clasps on his armor instead. “I think that I could use your assistance, yes?”

With a fond shake of his head, Astarion approached. Brushing aside Zevran's hands, he started to slowly undo the clasps, taking note of the areas where the leather failed him, split open viciously deep.

“Count yourself lucky, my lovely Zevran,” Astarion told him. “It's not often that I offer my services free of charge; but for you, I shall make an exception.”

“What an honor, indeed.”

They peeled away armor and fabric, layer after layer, until his chest was bared.

The instant the right side of his torso was revealed to him, Astarion sucked in a sharp breath of sympathy.

Although Shadowheart's magic did, in fact, take care of the worst of it, Zevran now had several large scars that spanned the length of his side. The skin was puckered, healed over, but the gashes were unmistakably those of claws, having raked deep through the tissue.

That wasn't even taking into account his shallow breaths.

“Hurt your ribs?”

“Won't be the first time,” Zevran grunted. “Won't be the last. In a way, I can't help but to admire that hag's ruthless spirit. She saw a weakness, and she took advantage, worsened an injury already there. A classic!”

“Yes, well, excuse me if I don't rejoice alongside you,” Astarion said.

Carefully, they stripped him of what armor remained until he stood naked before him.

Without thinking, Astarion's fingertips grazed along the raised skin that interrupted the flow of his tattoos.

When Zevran winced, Astarion started to withdraw.

“Apologies,” he mumbled, but Zevran was quick to place his hand over Astarion's, pressing it firmly against his side.

“Not to worry,” Zevran replied, breathless for a couple of reasons at that point. “A little pain won't kill me, surely.”

Astarion snorted.

Even with his approval, he took to tracing Zevran’s tattoos instead, his lips parted in awe.

Black ink followed the lines and curves of his body, as if made for him, but scars were scattered about more haphazardly, both old and new, big and small.

He was a work of art to be treasured. He was—

“Beautiful.”

Zevran looked up at him in a mixture of shock and amusement

“Heh, Astarion.” Zevran tsked at him. “Are you going soft on me, my dear?”

“Puh-lease,” Astarion teased, “I wouldn't dream of it.”

“No, of course not,” Zevran said. “Now, come here.” He tugged Astarion closer by the waistband of his pants, releasing it only to take the fabric of his shirt in hand. “May I?” At the flash of uncertainty in his eyes, Zevran’s expression gentled. “You should know by now that I would not ask anything sexual of you. I will only accept that attention which you are willing to give.” He reached out to cup Astarion's cheek, the latter leaning into his touch while Zevran’s thumb brushed along the curve of his lips. “Although, I would be lying if I said that I did not wish to experience the feeling of your skin against mine again, yet it need not lead to sex. It would be much like that night we spent together, I imagine.”

“And here I thought that you didn't want to discuss that,” Astarion muttered.

“Do you wish to discuss it?”

It was all so novel, having his wants and needs matter in such a way, but he shook his head in answer.

“Not right now, but maybe… maybe later?” He didn't know where that future talk would take them, but it felt appropriate to avoid closing any doors on the opportunity. “Right now, I think that I want what you are offering.”

“You ‘think’?” Zevran asked.

“I know,” Astarion clarified.

“Whatever you want.” Zevran took his shirt in hand again, not wasting a second more as he untucked the fabric from his pants. “Not worried about the others interrupting?”

“I think you made it clear with your whole ‘he's going to help me bathe’ remark that they might want to give us some distance for the time being,” Astarion said. “Very subtle approach, by the way.”

Zevran chuckled.

“Well, you certainly helped clear the area by making all of your angry vampire faces at them.”

“Ha! Yes, there's that, too, I guess.”

As Zevran eased his shirt up along his chest, Astarion lifted his arms above his head to help him slide it off the rest of the way. Next came his boots, followed by his pants and his underwear.

It didn't take long before he, too, was laid bare in the golden sunlight. And while there was a familiar sense of vulnerability in the act, Zevran made him feel… safe.

Ironic, really. The assassin, of all people, making him feel safe.

However, all doubts dissipated the instant Zevran’s fingers caressed his skin.

He was careful, gentle. He kept his promise, not trying for anything more, and that alone meant the world to Astarion.

Zevran watched his hands move along the outline of his shoulders, down the length of his arms, and across the expanse of his chest. He traced nonsensical patterns into his skin that only he could see, sometimes applying enough pressure to knead any lingering tension away.

So, while Zevran was watching his hands, Astarion was watching Zevran. Every shift of his expression. How the sunlight brought out flecks of gold in brown eyes. The way blonde strands started coil into loose curls in the humidity.

All Astarion wanted was to get closer.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Zevran’s waist and reeled him in until their bodies were pressed flush against each other.

Zevran stared up into blood red eyes, and they stared back, intent yet —dare he say— frightened.

Frightened of how close they were, not just physically, in that moment.

“I—” Astarion trailed off. I'm glad you're okay.

Words that remained unspoken, but Zevran heard them, loud and clear.

He nodded in understanding.

“I know,” he whispered. He wrapped his arms around him in a snug embrace. “I'm here.”

“Yes, you are.”

But how long would that last? Would death claim him on their journey? Would he one day hope to return to this Thedas of his?

Rather than entertain those thoughts, Astarion rested his forehead upon his. Their noses brushed, lips only a hair’s width away.

Their breathing mingled until, abruptly, Astarion's stopped. The rise and fall of his chest against Zevran’s ceased.

For a split second, a spike of panic shot through Zevran, but he reminded himself just as quickly that this was a normal occurrence for Astarion.

Ah, the quirks of being undead.

Egotistical as it was, Zevran soothed his worries with the simple reasoning that he quite literally took his vampire's breath away.

Astarion nuzzled closer. His lips brushed along the outline of his cheek.

“Gods, you're so warm,” he praised, pressing a kiss underneath Zevran’s ear.

As he pulled away, Zev shivered in delight, instinctively pressing closer against him, his hands spread out upon his back.

Before he could catch himself, his fingertips started to follow the lines of Astarion's scars.

At first, Astarion tensed at the unexpected touch, eventually relaxing enough for him to continue.

Usually, Zevran wasn't one to intrude, but he had to know.

“Have you ever seen—”

“No.” That lone word rang with a note of finality, one that told Zevran to drop it, to not push his luck.

Then again, when did Zevran ever do what others expected of him?

“Do you want to?”

Before Astarion could question him further, he felt his tadpole start to squirm as Zevran’s reached out to it, telepathic energy resonating between them.

“I can use our tadpoles’ connection, if you'd like,” he offered, but Astarion was already shaking his head.

“I appreciate the thought, but not—” He swallowed thickly. “Not yet. This time alone is for us, not my past.”

“Understandable,” yet Astarion didn't feel him withdraw in the slightest. Instead, Zevran offered an alternative. “How about this then? I can show you, well, you.”

Astarion blinked owlishly at that, but Zevran merely smiled at him, patiently awaiting his response.

“You want to…?”

“Show you how you look!” Zevran exclaimed. Their tadpoles wiggled at the sudden burst of excitement. “You said that you don't remember your face, correct? Well, let me show you. It would be an absolute crime not to catch even a glimpse of an elf as handsome as you.”

Even as a wave of emotion threatened to overwhelm him, Astarion couldn't help but to laugh at the flattery.

“Oh, you and your shallow praise.” Nevertheless, Astarion couldn't look away from him, wide-eyed with disbelief. He spoke at a much softer level, his lips spread into an eager grin. “You'll truly do this for me?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Zevran countered, bumping his nose against Astarion's. “Would you not do the same for me, were I in your shoes, so to speak?”

Honestly, Astarion didn't know how to respond to that.

“You know what, on second thought, don't answer,” Zevran said, the silence deafening. “Let me live in the fantasy for a little while longer. In answer to your question, however, yes. I will do this for you, my dear.”

Astarion opened his mouth and closed it, at a loss for words.

All he could manage was a simple, “Thank you.”

Nowhere near enough to convey what he was feeling, but Zevran didn't mind in the slightest, brushing off such sentiment.

“Trust me, it's no problem at all,” he said.

Both of them took a moment to prepare themselves.

Their eyes slid closed, they steadied their breathing, and then Zevran’s tadpole reached out to Astarion's once more. The threads of their minds started to fuse together until they formed a bridge between the two.

Their thoughts, their senses, their emotions.

All of it was shared through their connection, waves of psionic energy pulsating in tune with each other.

There was a single beat before Zevran opened his eyes, and Astarion saw the world as he did.

A split second past where he had to adjust to the sun's blinding light, the blurred edges of a face slowly but surely smoothing out to take shape. What was only an instant stretched on into an eternity as Astarion waited with bated breath, time seemingly drawn out the more impatient he grew.

He kept his eyes shut, his breath held, to focus only on the inevitable reveal.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait much longer.

Golden rays faded into the background.

A headful of silver curls was the first thing he saw.

After that, there was the arch of his eyebrows in matching grey tones, followed by dark shadows that laid beneath his eyes, stark against pale skin.

There was so much to take in.

Everything from the slope of his nose to the angle of his jaw to the curve of his lips captivated him.

He was all but enthralled by the time Zevran’s hands entered into view.

His touch was so light, so adoring, far beyond what he deserved.

Zevran smoothed out the furrow in Astarion's brow, soon brushing errant curls back behind pointed ears. He traced along his jawline, down to his neck, where he pressed the pads of his fingers against his bite marks.

Astarion swallowed, fixated on the sight.

“There you are,” he mumbled, right before he opened bright red eyes. The resulting sensation was rather disorienting, seeing through both his eyes and another's at the same time. “There I am.”

He released a small laugh of disbelief.

“It's been so long…”

And while Astarion would happily sit there all day, memorizing every last detail, he knew that all good things must eventually come to an end.

Before he could get too caught up in the moment, he mentally withdrew, severing their tadpoles’ bond.

“I can't thank you enough,” he told him. “I—” He averted his gaze and cleared his throat, unexpectedly bashful. “I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you right now.”

“Well, by all means,” Zevran hummed, “don't let me stop you.”

Flashing him a rare, genuine smile, Astarion left Zevran with another healing potion, retrieving a nearby bucket as he made his way towards the river. Once the bucket was full, he returned to Zevran's side. There, he dug through their supply pack and tossed a couple of sponges and soap bars into the water.

As soon as the sponge made contact with his skin, Zevran jumped out of reach.

“Easy!” he yelped, staring at Astarion as if he had committed some sort of grave crime. “That's cold! Surely you can heat it up with a spell, yes?”

“What?” Astarion teased. “Can't stand a little chill, can we?”

Not that Astarion had much room to talk, but that didn't stop him from joking at Zevran’s expense.

“No, and I am not ashamed to admit it,” Zevran said. “Now, please, have mercy on me, good ser.”

“Oh, alright,” Astarion sighed, “but only since you said ‘please.’”

With a wave of his hand and a simple incantation, the water warmed at his command. He even went through the effort of soaking the sponge again, working the soap into a lather.

“What a kind soul you are,” Zevran commended. “A true gentleman, if there ever was one.”

“Mm-hmm…”

Taking Zevran by the hand, Astarion pulled him close. He started with his face first, washing away flecks of blood as he scrubbed his way along Zevran's body.

The potions worked their magic in the meantime. Right before his very eyes, Astarion watched scratches heal and bruises disappear.

By the time he was wrapping up, Zevran reached down and plucked the spare sponge out of the bucket. He took to returning the favor, washing Astarion off, bit by bit.

Radiant sunlight warmed their bodies.

Droplets of water clung to their skin.

It wasn't long before they set to work on washing each other's hair, lost in the sensation of fingers tangled within the strands, nails lightly scraping against their scalps.

Both were left with their hair in a disarray —a mixture of soft, frizzy, and fluffy.

After they were done bathing, Astarion took the time to apply a salve to Zevran's latest scars. Not only was it supposed to relieve any pain at the site itself, but it also numbed the surrounding area as well.

With those matters settled, they left their mess behind them —a problem to deal with later— as they snuck their way back into camp.

Fortunately, nobody crossed paths with them on the way, and they were able to enter Astarion's tent, undetected.

Maneuvering around the empty jars of blood, Zevran proved quick enough to steal Astarion's spare shirt before he could reach it. He slipped it on without hesitation, the loose, white fabric falling right below the curve of his ass.

The ruffles along the neckline framed his chest, the laces left mostly undone, highlighting the length of his neck.

Astarion stared, captivated by the sight of him.

Especially by the sight of Zevran in his clothing.

Zevran made room upon the bedroll, an addition to Astarion's tent that he insisted upon, and spread himself out on it with a knowing smirk. Blonde hair framed his head like a halo, Zevran crooking a finger at Astarion to beckon him forward.

In the blink of an eye, he hovered over him, Astarion stealing a brief, albeit passionate kiss.

Their lips parted.

Zevran searched his gaze and asked in a small, quiet voice, “Will you hold me? Like you did that night?”

Astarion brushed stray hairs out of his face, then gave him another peck.

When he was with him, he didn't feel the need to don his mask as often.

Even so, he scoffed and rolled his eyes, sparing Zev an affectionate smile.

“How could I say no?”

It took a bit of adjusting on their part, but Astarion eventually settled in behind Zevran, wrapping his arms around him.

“Hmm…” Zevran snuggled deeper into his embrace. “Who would have guessed that the big, bad vampire would take such good care of me?”

Burying his face into the crook of his neck, Astarion pressed a kiss above where Zevran's pulse beat strongest.

“Don't mention it,” he said. After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

In response, Zevran lined up their fingers before tangling them together.

“Whatever you say, my love.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dragon age #dao #astarion #astarion ancunin #zevran #zevran arainai #zevstarion #crossover #bluerose writes #iffy about posting my full fics here #but oh well i wanted to share

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deathfavor · 5 months

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@ephemeralshot said: Michael felt his eyes sink into the ground as he listened. Arms wrapping around him in a pathetic hug to himself as he found himself wavering. He says they haven’t changed but Michael has changed a lot. Back then, he still felt hope, he even smiled. When he and Lucifer squabble, he had sensed it was more than simply wishing to illicit a reaction out of him.

Michael could understand the loneliness, the way Lucifer’s light outshined his own even long after he had been casted out. It didn’t make it better, it made it all worse. It hurt deeper than he ever imagined. Ironic how the one Michael wished to be like was just as lonely if not lonelier. Were they simply doomed to be miserable?

Heaven was his home, it was where he belonged and yet he felt alone amongst the other angels. God only ever spoke orders in his ears, and duty was all he knew. All the other angels would only ever gawk or steal glances at Lucifer. When he wasn’t locked away in the throne room. Many too afraid to speak to him. Michael hadn’t really thought too hard on it until now. He assumed it was the respect the bringer of light was owed. The morning star. Was it because Michael and Lucifer were the first that he had been able to speak to him in the way that he did? Unafraid to lash out, or fight back?

“So you liked when I yelled at you?” Michael asks, snowy white bangs falling in front of his face as he hide the small smile that appeared on his lips. Michael could be more than his anger, but it was much like natures wondrous encounters. Rare and sight to behold. Often times his anger was what showed what he was feeling deep inside. The grief he held for a father who didn’t listen, anguish, hatred and love for a brother who stood on the opposite of him now. “Is that all you want to know?” He asks quietly, his red gaze turning slowly to meet the pair of golden eyes watching his back.

Lucifer can see Michael trying to embrace himself, wrap himself in a self-soothing gesture that he would never let anyone else see. A part of him yearns to reach out...but what good will it do if it only makes Michael flinch away or shut down further? He's finally saying something, and perhaps it is best to give him the space to process it in a way that Michael needs to. Fingertips press against the starry fabric at his side, keeping his hands close to him.

" I liked it better when you'd brush my hair under that tree, even if you were often scolding me on napping or being out there rather than being early to an event. " It had never mattered. In fact, Lucifer's slight delay always had more people flocking to see his dazzling entrance whenever he would eventually appear. No matter how much he didn't want to be there, he would for Michael's sake or the others. He was God's right hand, it was something that was never to be forgotten. It still wasn't, Lucifer had been the one and only. To this day he carries secrets known to no other. " But yes. I suppose I did. It was new. I liked getting to experience what others did, if only for a moment. Only with you. " He's quiet for a moment as he chooses his next words carefully. " it has still always only been you. " Samael understood him too well, and that too was different than the bond with Michael.

Is that all he wanted to know? Lucifer's eyes meet familiar red, lips parting yet lingering with rare uncertainty. " I...don't follow. " He admits, draconic pupils searching Michael's face for the answers he doesn't have at his fingertips. " No... " He shakes his head after a moment, taking a few steps closer. The limitations of such language would never cease to be a frustration for him, but he's certain that No is the right answer. That's not all he wants to know. " If you mean your anger, no. It's not. " This time there's firmer conviction as Lucifer seems to slot together pieces and concepts of what has been said.

It would be better if it were another though. This Lucifer knows. Because Lucifer will not always be there, and they stand on sides of a line that Lucifer will die before crossing over. His freedom, his free will, that is his. He has ripped it from God's hands and burned and fallen for it. No matter what Michael could say or do, no matter what what beautiful picture he could conjure....it would not happen. Lucifer will not beg for forgiveness, he will not condemn that which he feels is right. And Michael....Michael should never fall. No matter if Lucifer might finally feel he is not alone, soaring miles above anyone else. No matter if it meant company. He does not think Michael could endure it, nor Heaven itself

" But what is it you want, Michael? " Lucifer asks, softer. Do you want me to anger you till you feel nothing but hatred and contempt? What is it that you want of me? A feather falls, dispersing into gold dust the moment it falls upon the earth, Lucifer lets a quiet sigh slip past his lips, and then crosses the space to press a butterfly soft kiss to Michael's forehead. He demands nothing more, takes nothing more. Only gives before he steps back, proud wings folding themselves smaller once more.

#ephemeralshot #shoves this towards you #good morning when you read this have the feels #᛭ — [IC] bend the knee and bow to the emperor [LUCIFER]#᛭ — [RELATION] craving the bittersweet misery only you bring [LUCIFER & MICHAEL]

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apocalypticavolition · 8 months

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Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 30: Children of Shadow

Spoiler alert: So many Wheel of Time spoilers are to come. You should go somewhere else if they bother ya. Too tired to make a longer spiel today.

The chapter icon this time is the Whitecloak's sigil, which checks out because guess who shows up to be awful this chapter?

“A blind man could read your face, boy. Well, speak up. Do you hate the girl? Despise her? That’s it. You were ready to kill her because you despise her, always dragging her feet, holding you back with her womanish ways.”

Elyas is such a weird fucking mentor. He knows damn well what Perrin's emotions were at the time, none of which were hatred. I guess he was planning on explaining to Perrin he had no right to decide this kind of thing, except Perrin's come to this conclusion on his own. So that saves time!

Perrin hefted the axe in his hands, still tempted to leave it in the pool. Easy for him to say wait. What if I wait and then can’t throw it away?

Worse still, what if you wait so long that the axe stops being an exclusive metaphorical symbol of your violent corruption so your throwing it away means nothing because you continue on your path of blind vengeance with no restraint or respect for morality? Because that's what's going to happen, Mr. Slavery-Is-Okay-When-I-Profit-Off-It.

But points for asking, and I guess it makes your reluctance to be a wolf shaman a little more understandable because you associate the two. It really is the narration's fault you end up where you do.

“Dapple says they smell wrong. It’s . . . sort of the way a rabid dog smells wrong.”

Whitecloak lovers take note.

We’ll shelter in Artur Hawkwing’s hand. Maybe some of his justice is left here.

Sadly, rather like late series Perrin, Hawkwing couldn't ever throw away the axe. Metaphorically speaking, it's really no surprise that a prospective Aes Sedai and a werewolf can't find shelter by him.

Light, he thought wonderingly, she’s trying to comfort me.

You are the emotional and hysterical one in this partnership. Though hey, I'll skip back a bit to give you credit for the kind of good insight that you really need to display more often:

People don’t see what they don’t expect.

Y'all ever see that video of the people throwing basketballs around and then a dude in a gorilla costume is running around in the background? Perrin hasn't and he still understands the lesson it taught me. Sadly, you're dealing with paranoid assholes, so they in fact expect enemies at every corner.

“There is something up there,” one of them said. His voice was too loud, as if he was afraid of what lay outside the light of his torch. “I told you somebody could hide in that. Isn’t that a horse?”

Really, between Perrin's empathy magic, scary familiars, and people-based reality warping, he should have really graduated to being a horrifying take on Batman that made most of his enemies ask dumb questions like this right before being eviscerated or at least tied up or something if he insisted on keeping Batman's no killing policy.

Out of the night Hopper came, and Perrin was one with the wolf. Hopper, the cub who had watched the eagles soar, and wanted so badly to fly through the sky as the eagles did. The cub who hopped and jumped and leaped until he could leap higher than any other wolf, and who never lost the cub’s yearning to soar through the sky.

Remember literally seven chapters ago when we were told wolf names were only impressions imperfectly translated into words? Turns out that Hopper's name is given to him for the exact sorts of reasons that all sorts of folks throughout history were given verby names and as such perfectly encapsulates him!

It seemed a kindly face, bluff and dignified, and something about it fit the elegant austerity of the tent’s furnishings. A table and a folding bed, a washstand with a plain white basin and pitcher, a single wooden chest inlaid in simple geometric patterns. Where there was wood, it was polished to a soft glow, and the metal gleamed, but not too brightly, and nothing was showy. Everything in the tent had the look of craftsmanship, but only someone who had watched the work of craftsmen—like Master Luhhan, or Master Aydaer, the cabinetmaker—would see it.

This is how we know that Geofram is a reasonable authority figure who does not represent the average Whitecloak, naturally. This reinforces a lot of his stuff about belief and order giving strength - normally the Whitecloaks are all zealotry without any real guide but their whims. But Geof here takes care of his shit.

“Nine men dead, my Lord Captain, and twenty-three injured, seven seriously. All can ride, though. Thirty horses had to be put down. They were hamstrung!” He emphasized that in his emotionless voice, as if what had happened to the horses were worse than the deaths and injuries to men.

In fairness, the horses are innocent and only suffered because of their associations. Also, losses like this against a wolfpack of about seven are absolutely hysterical. Y'all are the continent's only standing army and this is what you've got?

Byar drew a deep breath and hesitated. “I have had the wolf that was with this lot skinned, my Lord Captain. The hide should make a fine rug for my Lord Captain’s tent.”

RIP Hopper. You didn't deserve any of this shit.

Cautiously, reluctantly, he felt for Elyas, for the wolves . . . and found nothing. It was as if he had never been able to feel a wolf’s mind. Either they’re dead, or they’ve abandoned you.

Mostly the latter. Elyas got injured apparently, so at least there's kind of an excuse, but it's still pretty funny how quickly Perrin here got ditched.

“Excellently balanced, my Lord Captain. Plainly made, but by a very good weaponsmith, perhaps even a master.” His eyes burned darkly at the prisoners. “Not a villager’s weapon, my Lord Captain. Nor a farmer’s.”

Luhhan being such an amazing blacksmith that he can create masterwork combat weapons is honestly a bigger stretch to me than virtually any other Two Rivers Exceptionalism. I guess it helps that it's an axe and thus closely related to the kind of tools he'd be making anyway.

“Go easy, Child Byar.” Bornhald looked at the captives again. “I expect you do not know much about the Anointed, or about Lords Captain of the Children of the Light, do you? No, I thought not. Well, for Child Byar’s sake, at least, try not to argue or shout, yes? I want no more than that you should walk in the Light, and letting anger get the better of you won’t help any of us.”

Note that my description of Geof as "reasonable" is very much grading on a curve. Right now he's just playing good cop to Byar's bad cop and while Byar might legitimately be that awful, it's clear that Geof's very rehearsed in his interrogation techniques.

Perrin blinked, trying to clear his head. His brain still felt like jellied pain, but there was something wrong here. He could not get his thoughts straight enough to puzzle it out. “Not all of them,” Egwene muttered. Perrin gave Byar a wary look, but the gaunt man only watched her. “Some of them have horns, like rams or goats, or hawks’ beaks, or . . . or . . . all sorts of things.”

The problem with Egwene's being very enthusiastic about showing off everything she knows is that she's way too cooperative in interrogations. While Perrin is busy being concussed, she quickly digs a very deep trap for the two of them.

Egwene stared at him openly before she caught herself, but he pressed on with the truth—or a version of it. The two of them had left the Two Rivers to see Caemlyn. On the way they had heard of the ruins of a great city, but when they found Shadar Logoth, there were Trollocs there. The two of them managed to escape across the River Arinelle, but by that time they were completely lost. Then they fell in with a man who offered to guide them to Caemlyn. He had said his name was none of their business, and he hardly seemed friendly, but they needed a guide.

Possibly one of the reasons that Perrin doesn't get the time to shine as the third ta'veren going forward is that he stops needing to bullshit. He's really good at this for being concussed. Points to Egwene too, for being able to fill in the hole in his lie once he gets going. This is why you interrogate prisoners separately, so they can't coordinate their bullshit!

You may be telling the truth about being from the Two Rivers, since you know about Baerlon, and the mines. But Shadar Logoth . . . ? That is a name very, very few know, most of them Darkfriends, and anyone who knows enough to know the name, knows enough not to go there.

Of course, Perrin's story doesn't even get them as far as it might, since he casually namedrops ancient bullshit too. Really, it's almost unbelievable that Geof here is so educated; why was he at the devil's sacrament anyway?

“But you, just Perrin from the Two Rivers. You killed two of the Children.” He touched the axe that Byar still held. “For you, I fear, a gibbet waits in Amador.”

Don't fear, the gibbet is actually waiting in Ghealdan! Maybe Jordan would have had them move into Seanchan territory in his version of the story to complete the foreshadowing though? Kinda contrived but you never can tell.

Next time, we finally get back to Mat! Also Rand I guess but... Mat!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #perrin aybara #egwene al'vere #elyas machera #hopper #geofram bornhald #jaret byar

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apilgrimsjournal · 30 days

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Clear As A Crystal

I have been asking the Lord to give me a clear indication about my recent decision. I was willing to recant what I said and admit how wrong I was if the Lord showed me reasons that I really did wrong. You know how much I prayed to you, Lord: “If that is the person you want me to marry, please give the clearest instruction that I made a wrong decision to say no to him and I will admit my fault, humble myself and love him as I ought to. No more wrestling and bargaining with You about my forgotten feelings. And awaken them once more.” I was even beginning to slowly regret my decision while waiting for Your answer because most people around me seem to all think that I should have said yes to him. After all, he is well known for his good repute and leadership in the church.

However, yesterday, he told me that he realized it was all infatuation on his part. “I realized I was more in love with the thought of you than the actual you.” He clearly said that and his feelings are gone. I was trembling in pain while listening to his words. I even asked again because I might have misheard him about being just infatuated but the answer did not change. He was just that. I could not hold back my tears while talking to him. My tears could not betray what was in my heart that I was shedding them as I talked to him. I was in shock, Lord. My chest tightened for I could not believe what I was hearing. He did and said all the right things. He professed his “love” for me to my leader and father. He even told it to my disciple. He recently just organized a party for my birthday. He gave me a book which was so hard to find and more time and efforts than I could recount. I could not understand how can anyone do and say such things only to realize it was shallow all along. After the call, I wept uncontrollably. I became more afraid and untrusting. My tears would not stop falling. I do not know which hurts more: being led to believe he loved me, believing he would accept me for who I really am, or being professed to be married to me one day. If I said yes, and he realized this in the middle of our relationship, I would have died a thousand deaths. Would he just go on with it until the end even after finding out that it was all infatuation because he could not turn his back to what he already professed? The horrors of what could have been! I even wonder if it was necessary that I heard that. He could have just told me he lost his feelings and would not wait for me anymore and be done with it. Even in the name of being honest, it was still somehow cruel. I know I hurt him but I was hurt way before he was. He knew how much I yearned for him before he even confessed to me. If that was a payback, I honestly believe I suffered enough from wanting to be with him. Do some men change for the unimaginable when they get hurt? I hope I am wrong on it. I just never imagined that of all people, he could be that cruel.

Just to be sure, I am not mad, angry, bitter, or even indignant at him. He is my brother in You, Lord. He is also my dear friend. I have no ill feelings and unforgiving heart toward him. He made a decision as I did and I respect him for it. If anything, I am glad and relieved. After years of liking and waiting, no more what ifs and maybes with him. What could be clearer? You answered my prayer the best way possible. He is and will not be my husband. That chapter is closed; the end of an era.

As to my future husband, I hope he comes to me after being found by the Lord first. May he be rooted and flourishing in the Lord before he is sent to me. At this point, I honestly could tell him that he is worth all the “No” I have been telling some men. I would not mind breaking more hearts if it means I will be with him. And I know he will be a man who is strengthened by trials and disappointments. His love will endure and grow ever stronger in those times because that is what I pray to the Lord that he becomes.

Now, I rejoice with the fact that the Lord answered my prayer specifically. I asked Him and He heard me. Thank you for confirming to me that I made the right decision that was ultimately from You. You see through hearts, hear conversations I do not, and know motives I cannot possibly perceive. Thank you for protecting my heart once again, Lord. Waiting and surrendering to You is the best decision I have ever made. Blessed is the man who makes You their refuge. A blessed resurrection Sunday it is!

#christian #hope #jesussaves #confession #love #jesus #heavenlyfather

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cosmicjoke · 1 year

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Oh, Armand is a crazy bastard, lol. That scene when he rips that guy’s scalp off, holllly, haha. Don’t mess with this dude.

Okay, but, just the first chapter in to “The Vampire Armand”, but already, I’m really loving it, and particularly I find the stark difference between Armand and Lestat super fascinating. These two are like polar opposites to one another, which I already knew, but seeing the tonal difference in their respective narratives drives it home all the more.

Lestat very much comes across as an at times overactive child, lol. He’s very energetic and hyper and make big, grand and emotional declarations. And Armand is so different. There’s a very somber, reserved and isolated feel to his narrative thus far, and also what strikes me is how almost fragmented and wandering his thoughts are. He jumps from thought to thought and feeling to feeling from one instant to the next. With Armand, there’s very much a sense of a lack of foundation in who he is, or what he’s supposed to be, and your heart has to break for him on that count alone.

Like this part, when he’s talking to David (who, I’m starting to see why people find this dude so annoying, like, bro, leave Armand alone!)

Armand is annoyed at David’s intrusion, and he goes on a bit of a tangent about him

“A handsome gent,” I went on, “the color of caramel, moving with such catlike ease and gilded glances that he makes me think of all things once delectable, and now a potpourri of scent: cinnamon, clove, mild peppers and other spices golden, brown or red, whose fragrances can spike my brain and plunge me into erotic yearnings that live now, more than ever, to play themselves out. His skin must smell like cashew nuts and thick almond creams. It does.”

He laughed. “I get your point.”

I had shocked myself. I was wretched for a moment. “I’m not sure I get myself,” I said apologetically.”

Like, damn, poor Armand. He’s an emotional mess, you can tell. It feels like he just sort of loses control of his emotions at times, and then he’s ashamed of himself for it.

His whole interaction with Marius is also a killer in terms of making you feel for Armand. When he says to him, after Marius asks him to come stay with him in his house

“Master, I love you, but now I must be alone,” I said. “You don’t need me now, do you, Sir? How can you? You never really did.” Instantly I regretted it. The words, not the tone, were impudent. And our minds being so divided by intimate blood, I was afraid he’s misunderstand.”

I mean, this kind of encapsulates the whole tragedy between Armand and Marius, and Armand’s entire sense of abandonment too. He doesn’t mean it as an accusation against Marius. He just means it as a statement of fact. He thinks Marius never needed him. He probably feels that way about everyone he’s ever loved. Lestat of course being the prime example. And it’s really fascinating too, because as different as Lestat and Armand are, they both suffer from the same fear. This idea in their heads that they aren’t lovable, that they aren’t worthy of love, that others will always leave them, that those they love will never return that love. They come at the insecurity in two totally different ways. Lestat tries to hold on to what love he finds harder, he tries to make it work, sometimes to force it, and Armand is much more resigning, almost more wilting in the face of it. That’s the difference in their personalities. Lestat is someone who refuses to yield or accept defeat. Armand is someone who accepts and takes it. But there’s this deep similarity between them too, beneath their personalities. The same fears and insecurities and self-loathing drives them, I think, which also in a way explains why the two of them are always so at odds with each other, why they can’t ever really, truly be together. For as different as they are, they’re also very strangely similar. They maybe see too much of themselves in each other, and it scares them.

This exchange between Armand and David also speaks volumes about Armand’s mindset regarding Lestat, and how it plays on his own insecurities. He says

“Oh, I see, so that excuses it, that you followed me here?”

“I didn’t follow you, Armand,” he said. “I live here.”

“Ah, I’m sorry then,” I admitted. “I hadn’t known. I suppose I’m glad of it. You guard him. He’s never alone.” I meant Lestat of course.

From Armand’s perspective, Lestat is always surrounded by people (and, well, yeah, Lestat is. That light in him which Nicki talked about once, that draws people to him.). But you can see how it hurts Armand, because for him it must seem the opposite, that there’s a darkness in him which repels. Just being near Lestat, seeing the way people are drawn to him, has to work at his insecurities in the worst way. Again, it sheds light then on why he and Lestat are so often at odds. It doesn’t help when David says to him

“Everyone’s afraid of you,”

But then there’s the contradiction to that, the way people lust after him, and this is why people are complaining too about Armand’s casting in the show, because it’s basically vital to the character that he have the appearance of a boy. His entire psychology is wrapped up in the fact that he was a victim of sexual abuse as a child, that he was turned when he was only 17 and still had the appearance of a child.

This exchange between him and David

“You make me hungry,” I whispered. “Not for you but for one who is doomed and yet alive. I want to hunt. Stop it. Why do you touch me? Why be so gentle?”

“Everyone wants you,” he said.

“Oh, I know. Everyone would ravage a guilty cunning child! Everyone would have a laughing boy who knows his way around the block. Kids make better food than women, and girls are all too much like women, but young boys? They’re not like men, are they?”

“Don’t mock me. I meant I wanted only to touch you, to feel how soft you are, how eternally young.”

“Oh, that’s me, eternally young,” I said. “You speak nonsense words for one so pretty yourself.”

Again, I find this really revealing, also about Armand’s relationship with Lestat in particular. Everyone wants Armand, David tells him, and Armand is aware it’s largely because of the allure of his young, boyish appearance. There’s an inherent perversion, then, in most people’s attraction to Armand. They want him because he’s like a child. That in itself is such a major tragedy. There’s exceptions of course. Like Daniel and Louis, both of whom are lovers of Armand’s, and who’s love is genuine. But then there’s Lestat, who’s the only one who’s never lusted after Armand that way, and that kind of tells you a lot about who Lestat is too. He loves Armand, but he doesn’t want him in the same way everyone else seems to. He doesn’t lust after him. You can see in its own way why this would serve to mess with Armand’s head. He’s used to people going after him, to wanting him on account of his boyish beauty. And then comes along Lestat, who looks very much like Marius, who Armand himself falls in love with, and yet Lestat shows no interest or desire to be with him in that way. He doesn’t want to go after him, he doesn’t want to make him his. It’s almost like Lestat is the first person Armand’s ever loved who didn’t actually treat him like meat, and that’s heartbreaking that it took 300 years of life before Armand came across someone who actually treated him like a real person, but also makes the dynamic and relationship between him and Lestat very special. As at each others throats as they are, as antagonistic as their exchanges often are, I feel like there’s a purity to their love that simply doesn’t really exist for Armand anywhere else.

This part too, tells you plenty about the damage wrought in Armand by the trauma’s he’s experienced, another exchange with David, and Armand thinks

“I wondered idly and viciously if I could attack him, take him, bring him down under my greater craft and cunning and taste his blood without his consent.”

“I’m much too far along the road for that,” he said, “and why would you chance such a thing?”

“What self-possession. The older man in him did indeed command the sturdier younger flesh, the wise mortal with an iron authority over all things eternal and supernaturally powerful. What a blend of energies! Nice to drink his blood, to take him against his will. There is no such fun on Earth like the raping of an equal.

“I don’t know,” I said, ashamed. Rape is unmanly. “I don’t know why I insult you...”

It gives some pretty powerful insight into why Armand attacked Lestat the way he did, back when they first met. Lestat was already pretty much equal to Armand in strength then, and Armand, because of the horrible things he’s gone through in his life, displays those kinds of symptoms of trauma common to victims of sexual abuse, thinking about sex and violence as almost one in the same. Having invasive thoughts circling around those two things, etc... He’s been taught the two go hand in hand, and then being a vampire sort of affirms that perception, a vampire’s very nature being of a violent and sexual nature. Armand, while logically, knowing rape is bad and ugly and something one should be ashamed of, has still also had the concept of it almost normalized to him.

#The Vampire Armand #Armand #The Vampire Chronicles

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otaku-tactician · 9 months

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For the blorbo bingo - any Cu of your choosing? c:

Hello fellow fate fan and Cu enjoyer, thanks for the wonderful ask!! I think I will pick Lancer this time (I'm playing it safe lmao i hope i will be able to be concise and not start screaming incoherently). But also thank you for sharing your Cu theories and analysis with me. I like talking about this guy a lot, but he is absolutely my BLIND SPOT when it comes to understanding!

I apologise in advance if any of my Cu takes are a bit off (a lot of projection can be blamed for this). Also the rambling is extremely long so you can ignore it too. Thanks again!

Note: These are all my personal opinions, not truth (cuz im far from an expert on him)

Cu (Lancer) HAHAHAHA YESSS

This time I am going to be a lot more selfish (extremely selfish) and discuss my personal feelings on the character (which I tend to avoid doing)- based on all the bits I circled. Firstly yeah there is a deep seated reason why I love this character.

It's because well, Cu Chulainn does represent certain qualities that I am obsessed with and yearn deeply for. The way he guards, protects, supports, and takes care of his inner circle is pretty moving. He really cranes out his neck for those that matter to him, and as the white day quiz says; it's like he's kind of a warm blanket as an ally. Just the way he interacts with others in Fuyuki emphasises this, he can be so easy to talk to; he'll offer some great services, and though he can be annoying sometimes, he can be great company too.

Yes I get the people who say Cu is a terrifying warrior- which is especially showcased in how he plays around with weaker opponents/ kills em quickly and talks to them in a friendly yet horrifyingly cold manner concurrently- and he could kill me in my sleep (or anywhere for that matter) BUT he can be so warm as well- or cold- idk he's SEASONAL!!!!!

Yeah, his loyalty is DEFINITELY context dependent (he is a pretty loyal warrior and serves a lord and a friend very well but has had struggles when it comes to loyalty as a lover.... but I tend not to ever talk about that, in fear of pissing off the fans that believe he's a very reliable lover. I'm sorry Cu fans, but I don't quite agree, like YES he can be a good lover but also YES he can fuck up greatly too); but when he cares, he cares deeply and he does his all to be helpful to others- even to the point of self-sacrifice at times-and I really respect that a lot.

Feels like he is a great guy to have as an ally/ friend, which is why I ended up being unable to stop him from becoming MY FAVOURITE GUY OF ALL TIME (sorry gilgamesh).

But there is also a deep seated reason why I hate him so much. I think most of it is just jealousy from the fact that he embraces his role as an outsider, as the one who doesn't quite fit in anywhere; yet is also so popular despite that. I am jealous of his customer service skills, and how he knows so expertly well to craft himself in a way that showcases his best sides to others, and how he isn't afraid to show off his powers. And I am jealous that there are some who see how fucked up he can get, but they still adore him regardless; and he adores them equally too. I AM SO JEALOUS OF CU CHULAINN (especially Lancer) LMAO ITS SO FUNNY I SWEAR TO GOD! Also wtf how dare he rock his blue ponytail and garish clothing and still look sexy I hate it (joking id bang him if he even so much as offered).

And then the next point is I do not like to discuss Cu Chulainn on tumblr (but I LOVE hearing other people's opinions of him). I have witnessed just how mean Cu discourse can get for over 6 years now and it doesn't seem to be improving. However, I have also spoken to many kind and cool Cu fans as well, so the online Cu experience can vary. This is a very unpopular opinion but I LOVE the cute Cu fanarts just as much as the scary ones (cuz its hot i think the duality is SEXY AS FUCK).

But to me the main bit that exhausts me is that it's like I wish there could be a marriage between the different perspectives of this guy, cuz in my opinion I don't really think anyone has gotten him wrong, and it's more like they get him right but maybe certain aspects of him may be more to their particular focus, which is totally fine. I like hearing contrasting takes of Lancer Cu and hope that will continue forevermore.

Like Lancer Cu is full of duality and conflicting and contrasting elements, I believe he just is, y'know. Lancer Cu. But somehow there are loads of tumblr battles about which aspects are more valuable/ less worthy to look at, which REALLY CONFUSES ME!!! And people even sometimes deny Copious Cu Crimes (Cu/CCC) or want to squash out Cute Cu Content (Cu/CCC) which worries me.

(But I am the person who misunderstood his core character for over 6 years, so I admit I used to do this mistake myself. I used to focus so much on his warrior and cold side that I forgot about his affectionate and loving side!)

Why can't warrior cu, adorable cu, scary cu, criminal cu, fucked up cu, mean cu, nice cu, helper cu, loving cu, grumpy ass cu, ruthless cu, perceptive cu, monster cu and funny cu all coexist- please im begging you. And yeah, I also avoid talking about the more negative shenanigans that occurred in certain versions of his myth cuz some of his fans get really angry about it or turn it around to make it seem like I'm the one with a problem for raising it (this actually happened once lmao).

Sorry, I know he did his best to protect his masters in fate and his province as a myth-hero, but the man still also a war criminal in my eyes; through and through. LMAO that is an unpopular take, though. But tbh, I mean if I was a citizen in a holy grail war and Lancer had a master that was like 'hey lancer, drink em for mana' I feel like even if he disapproved, he'd still do it anyway.... That's just how I view him. He can be so wonderful and lovely, but duty comes before all else. That's the vibe he gives me personally. That's why I see his loyalty as context dependent based on individuals involved and the situation itself.

Next yeah, I have unwillingly come around to him because I really did not want to like him at first (I found him intimidating and thought he was wearing a clownsuit at first) but so much for that! Thanks a lot Cu!!! Seriously. One second I was shocked when I witnessed him coldly and ruthlessly kill Shirou on orders and hated on his outfit; next second I was pissing myself with laughter at his banter with Tohsaka Rin- and drooling over that EXACT SAME OUTFIT. How the hell does Lancer Cu even DO THAT? He was just so easy for me to like that I didn't even realise he was my blorbo until I was in deep and I haven't come out since (help me).

Oh gosh it's tough answering every circle. I want to give up! But if he can crack my spine like a crawfish and slurp me up I would likely be grateful. Is this an innuendo or literal though, because if it is literal I will be screaming in pain. But hey, if he's worth it he can slurp my insides anytime (nah i'd cry).

Yeah, my worst mistake and the reason why I struggle so much to characterise Lancer Cu decently is because I have projected so heavily and so MESSILY onto him that I accidentally gave him some of my real life headcanons. And it is so creepy because hopefully me and this guy aren't similar. I mean, I don't think I'm like Lancer Cu at all (most people say I'm like Archer, who I don't really see myself as either). But sorry Lancer Cu, I definitely threw some of my trauma of feeling like an outsider onto you. MY BAD!

Could I make him worse? HAHAHA, YES. Because I can challenge him in terms of ideals (I doubt he'd take me seriously though), and could very easily piss him off. I think my personality is definitely an antithesis to his, maybe I'm even his opposite. Because he's like 'ENJOY THE MOMENT, KEEP BALLING EVEN IF YOUR LIFE IS SHIT, OVERCOME AND ADAPT TO SUFFERING' and he does that very well, even when things knock him to the floor he keeps going (but then in turn runs away from certain issues and struggles to share his traumas).

But I could probably piss him off by saying 'IM BALLING AND OVERCOMING THINGS LIKE YOU BUT THE SUFFERING ISNT FUCKING ENDING AND THE PAIN IS GETTING WORSE THIS IS BULLSHIT' is that a clown 2 clown communication???? I have no idea. I bet he'd hate me for saying that though but that's okay, maybe he'd simply brush me off- but if he was a debate guy I would debate him!

Yeah the pretty privilage, he is a really beautiful man. That's all. He is so beautiful- stunning, even. TT-TT Super pretty. Doesn't help that his personality is interesting as well. Maybe I am just obsessed with him?? And yeah, he is kinda the white noise in my brain, he infiltrates my own actions and life choices by a great deal, I often think sometimes 'HEY WHAT WOULD LANCER CU DO? HOW WOULD HE REACT?' to even the simplest things and start laughing, or someone can remind me of him and I start laughing, or I think 'oh damn wish i could talk to him' I am like the PARASOCIAL FAN! HELP!!!! Also I think about him at random times. Lately, I have become more normal(?) about him but all it takes is 1 thing and he's back in my brain full time again.

Yeah, he is very complex and well written in my personal opinion. I think Nasu and the crew have done really well. I love how great a job they've done of making him seem like an annoying bawdy loud man as well as an incredibly intelligent, perceptive and agile warrior at the same time (and then he can even be bashful too). He a great character, he has so much nuances like a real human being so he gets a 10/10 from me. One personal example I have is that I used to think Cu was ALWAYS the happy loud funny annoying flirt guy off the job, until I started seeing scenes in anime like Emiya Gohan which showcases how no actually he also can be quiet sometimes and enjoy a bit of time alone, or needs time to disengage and cool off by himself.

I mean I don't usually even notice these aspects of characters. But with Lancer Cu, I constantly have to re-learn how to appreciate him because of how varied his character is.

Yeah I got the brainrot, but it's the brainrot of constantly having to readjust the way in which I view him. And the extreme brainrot I get whenever I start going bazongas about his hotness. I keep my Lancer Cu horny thoughts to myself for that reason lmao, I mean I have a crapload of suppressed horny thoughts so i think its horny brainrot in regards to him :)

Idk... I am biting my fist? The more appearances, the better. I am glad he is popular = more canon and fanon content.

As for putting him in situations, I would say stop but .... it's kind of entertaining. But I'd like to see him win a grail war someday. ALSO THOUGH THE WHOLE BAZETT STORY IS SO SAD BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i pray for an alternate saga where Cu and Bazett remain master/servant for the whole war cuz I'd cry if that happened and enshrine it my heart 4eva. I forgot my point for this part now....

For the next one, I used to need Lancer Cu in this way. It was an extremely unhealthy and scary time in my life to be frank. It took me through a journey where I had to confront some very personal issues and traumas. SO THANK YOU LANCER CU FOR FORCING ME TO FACE MY TRAUMAS!!!! Cuz yeah when I say I used to rely heavily on this blorbo to live.... my god. Yeah. It was not a good time. Hahahaha... yeah it was the worst time ever. It took me a long time to even admit he was my blorbo, cuz of all the issues it unleashed in my own personal life.

I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT HIM AT ALL! I PROJECTED MY MENTAL ILLNESSES ONTO LANCER AND THEN HAD TO CONFRONT AND BETTER MYSELF TO OVERCOME THEM AND ENJOY HIM THE WAY I DO TODAY! THATS WHY I SAY IT SUCKS THAT ITS SO HARD TO FEEL SAFE AND COMFY WHEN SHARING CU POSTS ON THE INTERNETS! I WISH THAT THERE CAN BE LANCER CU STUFF FOREVER AND ALSO MY VIEWPOINTS ON HIM ARE EXTREMELY BIASED AND SUBJECTIVE BECAUSE HE IS MY FAVORITE GUY OF ALL TIME SO I ACCIDENTALLY PROJECTED ONTO HIM AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

also he is so fucking hot too WHYYYYYYYYY THIS IS JUST I- WHAT WHY UGH AND IM SO JEALOUS OF HIM AND HIS GENDER AND ITS SO UNFAIR THAT I LIKE HIM SO MUCH!!!! I AM SO GRATEFUL AND SO ANGRY!

#asks #aaaamorphous-entity #personal #personal on fgo #thank you. a day with cu is a great day. everyday is worth it with cu chulainn LMAOOO #i hate how whenever cu is mentioned i never shut up i just have a lot to say about him also he is so SPICY!#thanks again for the ask it means a lot. and sorry if some cu takes arent right i do this a lot

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tuiyla · 2 years

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What is it you like about Santana’s friendship with Kurt?

I have a favourite scenes post but for this I actually wanna give a more profound answer than just listing their cute scenes, especially because I don't think Glee did right by them in that their full potential wasn't explored. At all. Hummelberry and Pezberry took priority in New York and though the former is understandable and I go feral over the latter, I just think we could have had more. Here's why and here's what I like about them.

When approaching a friendship or any sort of dynamic between two or more characters, I often try to think of what they have in common, thematically, where they work as foils, how they can strengthen each other's stories and characters. And I think Kurt and Santana, both of whom have emerged as extremely popular fan favourites and arguably two of the most beloved characters even today, 7 years after Glee ended, are both so strong individually that that alone makes me yearn for a fusion, a crossroad where these two powerful stories meet. And they do! Compared to many many other New Directions friendships they actually already get a fair amount in canon, and that of course is part of why I like them. Simply put, I like their interactions and the way their individual connection balances out the Kurtcheltana dynamic. But what I see in them goes beyond New York and goes beyond what the show has given us, though it is rooted in what we're given.

Kurt and Santana are far from being two sides of the same coin (though they both parallel Dave, for example, in delicious ways) but there's something about their similarities yet the ways in which they're wildly different. They're both gay, of course, but make no mistake a baseline wlw-mlm solidarity isn't why I think the friendship they have is so fascinating. I think what elevates that is the fact that being queer is so... inalienable in both their stories.

Kurt is an underdog, one of the show’s most quintessential ones and that’s mainly because of a combo of a homophobic society and his sexuality/the way he expresses himself. He goes through hell and remains kind and brave, and crucially he’s not afraid to be himself. He comes out in episode four and after that he’s unapologetically himself even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. And yes he does have an unhealthy coping mechanism or too and does still put up a front like the rest of us but he’s true to himself.

Santana starts out on top, as Queen Bee Quinn’s second and a hot cheerleader who can make out with her best friend and still be popular - even be popular because of that. She’s loud and quite obnoxious and sure looks like she has it all, but underneath it all she’s crippling under the misery of not being true to herself and being absolutely terrified of being seen for who she actually is. She also doesn’t have a Burt; her parents do turn out to be supportive but a crucial parental figure in her life, Abuela, does not.

And that’s not to say one has it worse than the other, hell no. And even though they make a good case study for how different gay and lesbian journeys can be, it’s not even about that. It’s about Kurt and Santana as characters going through a similar struggle in vastly different ways and finding a point of connection in that. A connection that’s unique to them, despite other queer characters also being on the show. And a connection in their personalities, too, because there Kurt and Santana also show fascinating similarities yet important differences.

Kurt has an inherent kindness, despite his occasional superiority complex that is so so important for Santana to learn from, as someone who’d really rather not admit that she isn’t such a bitch after all. But Santana has that street smart element, that eye for sketchiness and more grounded look on life as well as a vastly different perspective that Kurt can learn from. They also have a good level of mutual respect, most of the time, and can have both banter and admiration that doesn’t go to extremes like it does with Pezberry for example. They’re a fairly balanced duo where Kurt doesn’t take Santana’s shit but she doesn’t stand for his, either. Keeping it real but keeping it fun.

I also would have loved loved if Glee explored them more not just in NYC but while at McKinley. It’s a shame they didn’t get to interact more in season 2 because the Kurt-Dave-Santana storyline leading up to Prom Queen is fascinating and one of the show’s best. Kurt, upon getting the truth from Karofsky about Santana’s plans, is more impressed than horrified. “Her Lady Macbethian ways,” he says. Kurt appreciating Santana’s twisted and self-serving plan for its convolutedness and also, no matter what its intention, good results, is a fun view for him to have of her. They have that shared manipulative streak in different ways that affords the mutual respect and makes for fun interactions.

Ngl I kinda got lost in my thoughts there but... Kurtana. I like their friendship because it feels like worlds colliding but there’s no crash because it actually goes quite smoothly. Their slight cynicism but good hearts, the way Kurt is one of the few people to really see the good in Santana, but also the ways in which they call each other out. The first time I heard Kurtcheltana would eventually live together in NY was when I was watching season 1 and I was like, no way. How would Kurt and Santana work? They served such different purposes in the story, seemed rather incompatible. But going into season 4 I was looking forward to it, because by then I could see that they’re actually a pair who can find common ground relatively smoothly. And it’s not without its troubles, and I think a conflict between the two can sting really hard (cough cough 6x03, not that we wanna remember that). But like, overall? They just work, and they’re glorious. And I wish we had so much more, whether that’s casually watching TV together or helping each other through hardships they and only they have a unique understanding of.

#going out to my kurtana peeps #kurtana #glee asks #glee friendships #anon #santana asks #kurt hummel #santana lopez #i think i wanted to say much more but my brain short circuited halfway through #apologies #ask about kurtana again in 3-5 business days

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my-usernames-posts · 2 years

Text

A fanfic of Vegas' villian origin story in KinnPorsche

Imagine Vegas being allowed to go on a field trip to a beach in a village when 13. It's got to do with his father's mission but he's grateful for the chance to use the school bus for once. Like other kids. Cut to Vegas sitting alone waiting for his father in the evening. His classmates have left for home.

He grabs fistfuls of sand & watches the grains slip from his hand while realizing the salt water on his chin is not the sea spray. Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder causes him to flinch. A cracked male voice enquires, "Are you lost?". He shakes his head sideways. On turning around he can't tear his gaze away from the sculpted features of a boy in oversized clothes & messy hair.

"Do you want a friend?" The boy asks again, flashing his dimples & eye smiles. Vegas nods in agreement. The boy sits beside him. "I'm Pete. Even I'm alone today. All my friends are away for vacation. Grandma will be back tomorrow morn. What's your name?" Vegas hesitantly responds, "Vienna. I'm just waiting for my father."

Vegas reads him a story and Pete listens to it with fascination. Pete picks & shows him various seashells but Vegas is only looking at his hands until he spots his father at a distance. Afraid of being spotted together he tells him to hide from his scary father & scurries away.

Since that day Vegas turns to that chest tingling memory for warmth & comfort. He even tries to find that boy but doesn't find any useful leads. Plus the nostalgia of first love also brings regret with it. The fact he didn't even say goodbye. To the boy who deserved to know his real first name at the least. So he tries to distract himself. By plotting against the major family to please his father (spoiler alert : he always fails to)

On a particular bad day the last thing he'd want to do was meeting the major family. But the minor family's heir didn't have the luxury to rest.

This time a new bodyguard greets them with a tight smile. Vegas catches himself thinking "He's cute" as the new recruit escorts them to the meeting room before taking a spot beside Tankhun and half of Vegas' attention.

As they're exiting the room Vegas picks up the new recruit's fallen ID card. He shakes his head in disbelief on seeing a familiar name. There's no way on Earth they could find the one only he knew & never found, right?

His face loses colour when he flips the case. It's like seeing the mirror of Erised. It was a face only he knew from seven years ago. With the same eye smile that had made him feel weak in the knees for the first & last time. There was an old woman in the picture too.

The major family somehow always seemed to have everything he wanted & never got. Loving parents, wealth, power, status, self esteem & respect. Life couldn't be more unfair. One boy, whose memory was only his, his first love, his sole comfort memory that didn't include his deceased mother. Somehow even this was bestowed upon the major family. The one he yearned for was now serving his rivals. They didn't even worship him like he did for 7 long years.

Vegas sought revenge. If he couldn't have his love then he'd never let his rival Kinn be in love either. So he pocketed the card & set out to trap Tawan.

#kinnporche the series #vegaspete #kinnporsche ep 12 #kinnporsche fanfic #vegas theerapanyakul #pete kinnporsche #kinn theerapanyakul #villian origin story #fanfiction #vegas x pete #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche la forte #kan theerapanyakul #kinnporsche tankhun #khun tankhun #macau theerapanyakul #korn theerapanyakul #mirror of erised #tawan

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rosethornewrites · 2 years

Text

Monday & Tuesday T & G reading

The usual

Finished

Tumblr:

New life, by @bloody-bee-tea

Violence, by @bloody-bee-tea

Talk it out, by @bloody-bee-tea

Teen:

I see your true colours (shining through), by makexianxianhappytoday (29 chapters)

What if Jiang Cheng lost his core because he decided to be impulsive? What if the reason why he lost his core was not because of Wei Ying, how does it change things?

**Not Jiang Cheng friendly.

**Short chapters

yearning, by wolframvonbielefeld (maknaeline) (2nd in a series)

Thirteen years I have spent without you, Wei Ying, but my yearning has been fruitful.

Your - our son has grown up well.

General:

speak ill of the dead, by MuseofWriting (5th in a series)

"Hanguang-Jun, was Yiling Laozu a real person?"

Don't let me forget, I exist., by hamlets_ghost

“First master Lan?” he asks the ghost, who blinks at him. He looks thoughtful for a while, then smiles. The smile is like looking into the sun, and Meng Yao feels blinded by how pretty it is.

“Yes, I think that is me,” the ghost says, then more confidently, “yes, that is me. I am afraid I do not know your name, young master. Have you by any chance seen my family?”

This is…less than ideal.

Meng Yao finds Lan Xichen a little too late, after the Cloud Recesses burns down. This, however, is not the end of the story.

To Clearer Waters, by BlueAthena (4 chapters)

Wherein Yu Ziyuan travels back in time and decides to spare her family of all their misfortunes by nipping the poisonous bud at its roots.

(In which Yu Ziyuan decides to kill two past birds with one stone. Everything and everyone ends up better because of it…….except her.)

Unfinished

Teen:

Shards of Hope, by Dreaming_Days

He had built his life with the coldest calculation. Clawed his way to power with unhesitating ruthlessness. Destroyed anyone who would impede him. Betrayed even the few who had truly cared for him. And, in the end, utterly forsaken, Jin Guangyao died.

Then, 25 years earlier, Meng Yao woke up.

catch and release (and catch again), by Gaez (bell_flowers)

Before he can even puzzle out what’s happened he’s falling. Falling but still holding Lan Zhan’s hand. Still holding Lan Zhan’s hand because Sandu has severed Lan Zhan’s wrist.

(Lan Zhan was not supposed to catch him. He most certainly wasn’t supposed to follow Wei Wuxian over the cliff.)

Relentless, by nirejseki

“Why are we even here?” Wen Xu groused.

“Yeah! That’s right! Why are we here?” Wen Chao immediately chimed, very obviously taking his cues from his elder brother – much to the latter’s irritation, judging by his immediate scowl.

Lan Qiren knew that he needed to pick his next words very carefully. With recalcitrant students, a teacher only had a few opportunities to really connect with them. If he allowed them to dismiss him or categorize him as an enemy at this early stage, it would be an incredibly uphill battle to gain enough respect in order to teach them anything, and in this case, given the strength of their background and the fact that this little teaching session was both likely to be short and definitely completely unauthorized, it would quite possibly make it completely impossible to ever get through to them.

“You are here,” Lan Qiren said solemnly, each word slow and thoughtful, “because your father is an ass.”

(a story of kidnapping and falling in love, reluctantly)

Splinter and Divide, by assortedmagicrings

Jiang Cheng is five years old when baby Wei Ying is brought to Lotus Pier and becomes his little brother.

The Murder of Hanguang-Jun, by SequoiaSempervirens

After Lan Wangji is sent to the Burial Mounds to negotiate with the Yiling Patriarch, Lan Xichen is shocked to learn that Wei Wuxian has reacted by murdering Lan Wangji.

But not nearly as shocked as Wei Wuxian.

___

“Er-ge, have you heard from Hanguang-Jun since he left for the Burial Mounds to meet with the Yiling Patriarch?” Jin Guangyao asked as soon as he entered the room.

Something in his voice made Lan Xichen’s head snap up in alarm. “I haven’t. Why?”

“Because we have received a very disturbing package.” Jin Guangyao held out a long bundle, loosely wrapped in cloth, as if it had been unwrapped and then hastily rewrapped.

Lan Xichen took the bundle curiously and laid it on the table to unwrap it. Inside was a pile of pale blue silk, torn and half covered in rust red stains. His nose wrinkled at the smell of old blood as he unfolded the mess of ruined silk. A robe. A Lan robe.

Lan Xichen’s heart pounded in his ears.

General:

The Trouble With Politics: a Treatise on Jiang Sect Deputies Gone Rogue by Sect Leader Wei Wuxian, by stiltonbasket

Jin Zixuan dies. A siege is called at the Nightless City. A bodyguard flees from the Jinlintai, and journeys to the Burial Mounds to fulfill a life debt to the Ghost General.

Lan Wangji just wants to woo Wei Wuxian in peace, and figure out if Jiang-zongzhu's ex-deputy will ever stop trying to chaperone them.

(Or, the one where Yu Zhenhong stands by his da-shixiong, and becomes the head disciple of the rising Yiling Wei sect.)

#the untamed #mo dao zu shi #mdzs #cql #chen qing ling #untamed fanfiction

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eskumii · 2 years

Note

I don't know if you're fine with wlw content but if you're not then you can make the reader neutral gender of course. Can I request a Koyuki x reader where the both of them are cuddling with each other trying to get warmth due to how cold it is for them? Headcanon please?

soft yandere!koyuki (kny) hcs + how she reacts to cuddling for warmth

TITLE: " YEARNING HEART " — navi.

A/N: this contains huge manga spoilers, specifically in regards to akaza's backstory! #justice4koyuki :") tysm for the req, flower!! 🌸 these got kind of angsty (??) i went and reread akaza's backstory so i could characterize koyuki properly and woo that pain cut deep again LOL. she's like barely yandere in this but i tried, she's just too sweet. not proofread.

PAIRING: soft yandere!koyuki x caretaker!reader

CHARACTERS: koyuki (16), reader (17)

☆ three months ago, koyuki's father, keizo, saved you from your almost inevitable fate of getting beaten to death in a back alley after you had ran away from an arranged marriage. though you had nothing to offer him in return for his heroism, you still had your skills as a practiced housewife that you knew would be highly desirable to anyone. and after finding out about his sick daughter, you pleaded with him to let you be of service to her.

☆ keizo was eager to accept your help. you found out he was the master of a dojo with no students of his own, which forced him to look for work during the day in order to provide for both koyuki and himself. but just like that, you took a load off his shoulders by dedicating everything you had to caring for his daughter. he might've been more grateful to you than you were to him, if that were possible.

☆ to be honest, the first few weeks of caring for koyuki were kind of awkward. not that it really surprised you—you were a stranger who suddenly forced your way into her life with the intention of being her caretaker. it's quite an intimate position, so you were respectful of her space until she got a bit more comfortable with you, which didn't take long at all, really.

☆ although koyuki was a little shy at first, she warmed up to you very quickly. maybe it's because of the fact that you're also a girl, or maybe you're just someone who's naturally easy to get along with. either way, koyuki often finds herself confiding in you with everything. she might even say that she was developing a crush on you; you're such a pretty young lady and she's surprised that you aren't married yet or at least looking for a suitor. from what she's noticed, you're not interested in any of that in the slightest. somehow that makes her happy, as bad as it sounds.

☆ a few of your duties consist of helping her bathe, comb and style her hair appropriately, dress her, and obviously make sure she's fed and takes her medicine (which she hates the taste of). although koyuki insists that she can be independent in all of these things, she doesn't protest when you help her out anyway. sitting inside all day can be boring, so most of the time you'll try to entertain her by reading her books or old scrolls and teaching her how to make origami, if she feels well enough to (even if she doesn't, she tries to push through it because she likes spending time with you).

☆ you often make her little origami hearts and slip them onto her meal trays; ironically, things like that make her heart flutter. she doesn't know why, but your nurturing nature makes her wonder what it'd be like if you were her actual wife, making her food and giving her little origami hearts in a different context. she gets embarrassed when you catch her daydreaming, even though you would never guess that they're about you. she despises her sickness more than anything and often wonders what it would be like if she had met you in another life. the world is cruel, isn't it?

☆ the day you open up about your past to koyuki is also the day she single-handedly falls in love with you. you're strong. you're not afraid to stand up for what you believe in, even if it means losing your family and a chance to be wealthy through an arranged marriage. she admires you from the bottom of her heart and that feeling only grows stronger and stronger with each passing day she dwells in your presence. she looks up to you—more than a friend and more than her caretaker.

☆ sometimes koyuki will start crying, seemingly at random. she apologizes constantly about things that don't bother you at all ("i'm sorry you have to keep changing my clothes during the night. :( you must be tired." "i'm sorry you had to clean up the tea i spilled." "i'm sorry you aren't able to go to school/make friends because of me.") she worries so much about how you're feeling that she doesn't take her own condition into account. you'll hold her in your arms and let her hair loose so you can run your fingers through while she sniffles.

☆ you'll attempt to console her by saying that none of that matters to you and it's your job to do things like that for her anyway. that you want to do this for her. eventually she stops crying but she somehow always looks unsatisfied by your responses. were you only doing it for her because of her father? even though koyuki does apologize with sincerity, she loves the fact that you fret over her and that she's who your attention is on all the time. she knows it's selfish but so is her sickness; no one knows when it will overcome her, so she doesn't really have time to waste with being selfless with her feelings.

☆ with keizo working for most of the day, you and koyuki are often left alone but you're familiar enough with your surroundings to cope. one day, however, keizo doesn't come back when he usually does. winter season is quickly approaching and temperatures are beginning to drop as the sun goes down with them. usually keizo took care of chopping the wood for a fire but since he's not around, there's nothing for you to burn. koyuki can't handle extreme weather very well, so you have to think of something quickly.

☆ conflicted, you debate on whether or not you should try chopping some firewood yourself. you've never picked up an axe in your life so, naturally, you wouldn't know how to wield it properly, either. plus, you shouldn't leave koyuki by herself; you would be devastated if something ever happened to her while she was in your care. she's become someone important to you just within the few short months of knowing her.

☆ you navigate to koyuki's bedroom where extra blankets are neatly folded in her closet. you take them to where she lies on her futon in the foyer, a warm, wet towel on her forehead. you take it off and place it into the bowl of water by her head before piling the blankets on top of her. it seems that the weight woke her up, as she's now staring at you with those half-lidded, pink eyes of hers. you always thought they were really pretty.

☆ "[y/n]-san?" koyuki mumbles. "it's cold..." she nestles deeper into the blankets but even with the extras, it must not be enough. you frown and ponder on what to do, but koyuki beats you to it. "do you think you could m-maybe... lay with me? i'm sure it would be warmer if we stay close together."

☆ it's not a bad idea. you carefully lift the blankets up and slide underneath, laying so close that both your arms are touching. neither you or koyuki say anything for a long while—the light from the sun fades almost completely in the time that you spend underneath the blankets with her. a chill settles on the wooden floors of the dojo and just as you're about to fall asleep, a trembling voice awakes you. koyuki's been working up the courage to say something, anything to break the silence.

☆ "[y/n]-san, i like-" koyuki blurts. "i..." her voice seems to falter and you look at her in confusion, silently urging her to continue. koyuki's conscious halts her confession dead in its tracks. was this the right thing for her to do? what if you didn't feel the same way? what if she gets in the way of you finding a real spouse? her fears are rational but her feelings towards you aren't less than.

☆ "hm? what's wrong, koyuki-chan? are you still cold?" you pull the blanket tighter around the both of you and snake an arm around her shoulders. she stiffens like a two-by-four wood plank under the close proximity, and you get the impression that she's uncomfortable. still, you have to be close in order to transfer your body heat, so you press closer until you're both flush against each other, faces just inches away.

☆ a shoji panel at the front of the dojo suddenly slides open, startling both you and koyuki. you try to move away in order to not project the image that you're doing something inappropriate, but a warm hand wraps around your wrist to stop you. you look back at koyuki in shock, but the panic that's blazing in your chest is quickly expelled by the gentle gleam in her eyes.

☆ "please stay, [y/n]-san," she whispers, face flushed red as she fiddles with a strand of her hair. "i like... being this close to you." surely you can't reject her now.

☆ now it's your turn to blush. you hesitantly lay down again and scoot closer to her, wrapping the blanket back around the two of you. it's warm, hot even, and koyuki takes the initiative by wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling close. she's smiling bashfully but she really looks like she's enjoying herself; more than when you read to her or taught her origami. slowly, you rest your head on top of hers and smile, too.

☆ "ah, there you two are. sorry for getting back so late, i'll go-" keizo pauses as he catches sight of both you and koyuki bundled up in a blanket with her face buried into your neck. his eyes soften and he smiles knowingly at you, who's trying to hide under the blanket, before quietly exiting to chop some wood for a fire.

☆ but, honestly, with the way your arms are tightly embracing her, koyuki doesn't seem to need it.

#yandere demon slayer #koyuki x reader #demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere koyuki x reader #yandere koyuki #yandere demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yandere #yandere x reader

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breathings-of-the-heart · 3 years

Text

Stuck on You (Levi Ackerman x Childhood Friend! Reader)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just want to preface by saying that this is a TWO (maybe a three if i decide to write an epilogue drabble) PART SERIES, and I have just a few more scenes to write before I can post it! I don’t expect this one to do so well, to be honest, but it’s been so long since I’ve written anything I’m proud of and I think I’m happy with how this turned out. So yes, stay tuned for part 2 which i will link at the end once it is posted. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, season one/no regrets ova spoilers

Word Count: 3.5k

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

5 years ago

“Why is it that you always seem to be on my case the most?” Your frustration was obvious and your patience dissipated, feet shuffling in their spot as you finally turned to face him. “You never nag Isabel this much.”

For a moment, Levi didn’t respond, scanning your body for injuries. After asserting that you were indeed okay, he stepped over the unconscious man who laid on the ground, jaw set in anger as he walked forwards until he was so close you had to tilt your head slightly to keep eye contact.

Your snappy behavior was uncharacteristic. It only fueled his temper. The raven shook his head in disapproval, trying to keep his anger in check as you glared at him defiantly.

“Isabel doesn’t make such careless mistakes,” he pointed out coldly. “You almost got yourself hurt, (Y/N)! What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up to cover your ass?”

The both of you stood there in silence for several minutes, gazing at each other and listening to your uneven breathing. His face, unlike so many others, never really did reveal everything he was thinking. Feeling. You were dared to search for something else in his steady gaze besides disappointment, but for once, you could not tell what you saw. It was infuriating, humiliating, and hurtful.

“Sometimes I wonder if there’s even a brain inside your thick fucking skull.”

His harsh words didn’t normally cut you, but this time you flinched, looking away from Levi as all the fight drained out of you.

 Wearing your jewelry out at night was a careless mistake, that you could admit. What was hard to swallow was the fact that you had just been mugged, and nearly assaulted, yet all Levi could do was find the time to scold you, not seeming to care at all if you were shaken up by what happened.

It didn’t scare you that the other man’s hands found their way onto your skin. It didn’t scare you that something bad could have happened had Levi not knocked him out. You weren’t afraid of any of it; you were afraid that all the raven-haired man could see you for were your mistakes.

“So you think I’m a burden then?” you asked, choking up.

Your change in tone caught Levi’s attention. You suddenly looked smaller, and more vulnerable than the last time he looked at you. He sighed again, shaking his head softly. It took all your strength not to shy away from his fingers as they threaded through your hair, stopping on your shoulder and tugging you against him. You let Levi do it nonetheless, knowing this was his way of saying sorry; knowing this was his way of saying: “I’m tough on you because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

You pressed your ear against his beating heart, letting the sound soothe you.

“No, brat. I don’t think that. Let’s just go home, and forget about it,” his voice was more gentle this time.

You sniffled and nodded, chest bursting as Levi placed a feather light kiss on the top of your head.

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

You never thought you’d miss the Underground. Especially when taking into consideration the miserable days after Levi, Isabel, and Farlan took that fateful deal, and were forced to leave you behind.

Your feelings on the matter were conflicted, of course, but you were relieved and happy that the people who mattered most had such a big opportunity. They didn’t need to see you crying, nor hear about how scared you were to be by yourself. Each one deserved better than that, so you put on a brave face as they reassured you over and over that they’d come back. You beamed as brightly as you could, sending them off with words of encouragement as you continued fighting off the lingering feeling of dread as they left.

You didn’t want to be a nuisance. Never wanted to be the reason they’d hold themselves back.

Although he didn’t show it, Levi took it the hardest. He implored you to stay alive, in a scolding tone that he only ever used when he was worried. You could hold your own, but weren’t a fighter like the other three. The stern male had only ever been thankful of your gentle nature in the past, surprised to be cursing it now that he couldn’t protect you. But for him, you’d try your hardest, knowing that with a little faith and patience, you could be reunited in the future.

The goodbye had been bittersweet, your lips slotting against his for the very first time. In a way, the way he kissed you seemed more like a promise than a farewell. His arms were wrapped around you all night, warmth lulling you to a sleep that otherwise, would never have been able to claim you.

Parting afterwards the following morning became all the more difficult because of it.

When Levi pulled a few strings with his newfound respected status and got the military to sponsor your citizenship, you were over the moon. Becoming a soldier was the last thing you expected out of your life, but wherever Levi and the others went, you would gladly follow. You felt at home again, throwing your arms around the man for the first time in months and giggling at the fact that while he accepted the gesture and patted your head awkwardly, his lack of affection never changed.

But you were quickly learning that the ideological existence that lived right above your head was just an illusion. You came only to find your friends dead, and Levi more closed off to you than he’d ever been before. Up here, things were far from perfect, and as time went on, you instead yearned for the past if only to appreciate it better a second time around. And although things slowly got better, life was not yet finished throwing its hardships your way.

The last person you had left slowly became out of reach, as time apart inevitably distanced the two of you and gave someone else the opportunity to fill that hole in his heart.  

Reality, you found, was much crueler under the blue of the sky.

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

“You don’t have to deny it, Levi. I know you better than anyone. I see the way you look at her,” you whispered, wringing your hands together in a feeble attempt to rid of the painful churn in your stomach. “I see it because you used to look at me that way.”  

It was admirable, at least, the effort you put in to keep your voice even. But the silence that followed those broken words was pitiful. The silence made it even more difficult to meet the gaze of the man in front of you. Levi had every opportunity to deny the truth of your burning statement; to bring you back into his arms and reaffirm his love like he used to. Like he would if maybe things were different.

You knew, he had no desire to do that now. Instead, the Captain’s eyes screwed shut and a light sigh escaped his perfect lips, the warmth of it tingling your skin. It was nostalgic, almost, being alone with Levi like this. His face was nearer to yours then it had been in months, enough so that you could make out every tiny detail. The irony of it seemed mocking: for once, you couldn’t bear to look at him. Not that you needed to, with every feature of his sure to forever haunt your memory.

But now all you could see were the interactions they had. Your vision consisted of watching as their bond and understanding grew. It was created in such a short amount of time, but hardly unpredictable with the amount of time Levi and Petra spent together. Even if Levi himself had not realized it, for you, it was plain as day. You knew him better than anyone. Could see that there was no pain in Levi’s eyes when he looked at her. Afterall, unlike you, Petra wasn’t a painful reminder of the past.

Despite his physical closeness, this was the most detached you’ve ever felt from the male. The space between you was strange and unfamiliar. Lonely and cold.

At your words, he exhaled through his nostrils.  

“I would never be unfaithful, (Y/N). I never have been,” he spoke firmly, in that certain tone of speaking only he could manage. “I promised I would never leave you.”

A tear spilled down your cheek, despite your best brave face. It was too much to handle, even for a calloused girl like you. Because despite everything, Levi had always been there. It seemed scary to have life any other way.

Said man took your hand gently, handling it like porcelain. It wasn’t until his skin touched yours that you realized your fingers were shaking, and your facade was crumbling. His gesture was another reminder of what once was. The familiarity of his skin a testament to all the time spent simply existing with one another.

How did it come to this?

“A lot has changed since then, it seems,” you laughed softly, for once pulling away from his touch. “I bet you can’t even look at me without thinking about those two, huh?”

You never once thought it was his fault. Even if you told him that, you knew Levi would always take accountability. Knew he would blame himself for taking Isabel and Farlan away from you. You should have seen this coming. It was inevitable that your love would be tainted, and that he’d find it somewhere else, even if it was unintentional.

“(Y/N), wait—“ there was a small panic that awoke in the raven’s steely eyes that only those who truly knew him would be able to detect.  

“—You know how I feel about you, don't you? I want to be the one who you'd wake up next to every morning. The person you'd trust enough to spill all your secrets to, the one you want to hold close, the one who would make it hurt too much to ever let go. I want to be the person who can make you smile, or laugh until you can't breathe. Your first and last thought of the day, and the one you wonder about even when they’re not around.”

You swallowed a whimper, fists clenched at your sides as your restraint came undone. It was all you’d ever wanted since you were small and starving and Levi was all you had to hold onto.

"But more than anything I want you to be happy. You deserve it.”

And because that’s how much I love you.

“I’d spent the rest of my life with you, if you asked me to,” the stoic Captain stated, as simply and mindlessly as if reciting the weather.

You knew it was true. You also knew better than to let your mind wander to that fantasy, or to let a world come into fruition in which you stopped Levi from pursuing his happiness; held back simply because his loyalty knew no bounds. You refused to be that selfish. You’d rather die a miserable death, a thousand times over. Rather endure this anguish for as long as it resided in your heart then watch his indifference turn to hatred as years of a one-sided relationship droned on and on.

He doesn’t want you anymore.

“I know, Levi.” You paused for a long moment. “Petra's wonderful. I don't hate either of you, I want you to remember that."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying desperately to forget the feeling of Levi’s lips on your skin, your face against his chest. The warmth between your ribs or the butterflies in your stomach, or the fireworks of passion that only he could make you feel. Tried to forget the rare but special, secret words of affirmation only your ears got to hear, and the goosebumps they’d send across your skin.

You wanted to erase it all, if only to make it easier to walk away with the knowledge you’d never feel any of that again.

It was pathetic.

There wasn’t anything left to be said. So with the task near impossible, looked at your lover, your best friend, your rock, your Levi, and turned away.

You only managed three steps before a voice followed you and a hand closed around your wrist.

“Is this what you want?” He sounded apathetic, but you knew better. His underlying worry only made the pain feel worse.

“I don’t know.” At the very least, you were honest.

"Will I see you again?"

As adaptable as he was, Levi was never a fan of the unconventionality that was “change.” He was never surprised, quick to go with the flow, even if he preferred certainty and steadiness.

This conversation, though, was one he never expected.

"Of course," you forced a tiny smile, knowing it was more convincing than it felt. "I just need a breather. I'll be back for dinner." The words tasted bitter in your mouth.

That was the first and only lie you'd ever tell Levi Ackerman, having handed in your resignation papers to Erwin just yesterday.

Forgive me, Levi.

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

Snow fluttered down from the sky, coating the local shops and roofs of buildings with a thick, white blanket. Merchants and store owners alike grumbled their disapproval, bustling to sweep the front of their shops. The air was crisp and biting, yet you relished in the feeling and absorbed the atmosphere. Drunk garrison soldiers loitered around merrily, cheeks flushed from alcohol, catching the flakes in their hair and occasionally slipping on hidden ice in their drunken stupor. It made you chuckle softly, the residences of Wall Roses’ inconvenience the source of your contentment-- this was your first time seeing snow, the real thing a thousand times better than anything you read about in any book.

You strolled through the marketplace, a basket holding bread, dried meats, cheese, and several fruits resting in the crook of your elbow. Your coin purse felt lighter than it had that morning, yet you carried on nonetheless, curious as to what Wall Rose had to offer. Children ran past you, throwing snowballs at each other and nearly running into you because of their haste. The sight made you grin as one of them bumped into one of the street market’s booths, knocking over a few items as he went.

The woman behind the counter chastised them, her shouts growing louder when they barely spared her a glance and blended into the crowd of shoppers. Nick nacks and books were left scattered in their wake, askew on the cobblestone ground.

“Need help, ma’am?,” you asked her, picking up the objects from the ground.

“Thank you, dearie,” she sighed gratefully, taking them from your hands. “Kids these days, so reckless and always in such a hurry.”

You laughed airily, mirth swimming in your eyes.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t steal anything,” you joked, reminiscing about your own thieving past. Your attention turned towards the noting the soldiers now dozing off on top of their card table nearby, tutting their behavior lightheartedly. “Levi, if only the police were like that back when we--”

Out of habit, you turned around to meet his gaze, heart clenching when you remembered he wasn’t there. Your fists clenched to prevent you from smacking yourself at your carelessness. He’s not here, dumbass.

“What was that, hun?” the woman behind the counter inquired, preoccupied in sorting her things.

You put on your best smile, shaking your head before your thoughts could fill with images of a certain raven-haired, steele-eyed, heart-stopping male. The back of your eyes stung, the momentary joy of your first real winter quickly fading away.

“Nothing important.”

This is for the best, (Y/N). You’ve only ever gotten in the way, his whole life. Let the man be.

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

It had been a few years since that last encounter with him. Part of you still wondered if Levi tried looking for you after realizing your true intentions of never coming back. You hoped he didn't, imagining instead that he'd made the most of the opportunity you'd given him. Prayed that it wasn't all for naught and he instead pursued what (or who) truly made him happy, instead of worrying about other people. In truth, you became content with life, learning to look back on memories fondly and being thankful for their existence.

Residing above ground was enough reason to be grateful in itself, and you did your best to make the most of it. Your days were now spent in ways that paid tribute to your humble beginnings: individuals from the underground who managed to secure citizenship to the surface were put into your care. You helped men, women, and children alike assimilate into living on the surface, which included introducing the area, and assisting in finding housing and jobs. It was rewarding work, but more than anything, reminiscent to be able to see the wonder when their eyes meet the clouds for the very first time. The flickers of hope from your clients were things you carried with you every day. Your chosen profession left plenty of free time, however, as it was relatively rare for individuals to pay the hefty toll of climbing up those stairs.

Your life was average, and for the most part, uneventful. The quietness that accompanied mediocrity proved to be comforting, however. It was a far cry from the days of constantly looking over your shoulder and needing to carry a knife in your boot, just in case.

At first, it was difficult not to cry at the thought of the stoic, raven-haired Ackerman. The heartache weighed down in your chest for a good amount of time. The simplest things reminded you of Levi, but after a while, instances where he’d cross your mind became fewer and further between. With a nicer home than anything you previously owned, a livable income, and an overall peaceful existence, you didn’t have any regrets.

At least, that was what you told yourself until you heard the news.

On off days you worked as a waitress at one of the many taverns within Wall Rose. Large tips were one of the many perks that drew you in originally. The chatter of the customers and frequent bar-goers was a welcome ambience, and an opportunity for you to combat the occasional feeling of loneliness.

Occasionally, Scout Regiment gossip would filter through, especially about Humanity’s Strongest and the new titan shifter Eren Jeager. Updates were nice, knowing Levi was safe and thriving in what he did best. But as you placed a pint of beer on one of the tables and overheard a heavy set man babble loudly to his comrade, dread splashed over you in waves.

“The Captain was the only survivor in his squad. He wasn’t even with them when it happened, poor guy. He must feel terribly guilty.”

Your vision became hazy as you tried not to panic; of all the rumours that filtered through the drunk mouths of customers, you had never heard bad news like this before. The last you’d heard, human kind was given a beacon of hope, and things were looking up after Eren Jaeger managed to plug up the hole in Trost.

“Excuse me, but which squad did you say this happened to?” you heard your voice say.  

Across the table, the other man took a swig of his drink, and grunted indignantly.

“Levi Squad, the best in the military I heard. A shame, but I suppose even the top in the Survey Corps are still just suicidal maniacs when it comes down to it.”

No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen!

After that, everything became white noise. You could only register every third movement, heart thundering in your ears. The tray you’d been holding to carry the drinks clattered as it fell to the ground, causing a few gasps and strange looks to be thrown in your direction. In your horrified state, dread weighed down like lead in your body. You rushed to the back room, tears clouding your vision as you tried not to stumble.

You gripped the edges of the washroom sink, dizzy with this newfound information.

Levi has now lost more people that he loved, and was probably experiencing the same survivor’s guilt as he did with Isabel and Farlan. He was most likely suffering alone right now, never having been one to let people see his vulnerability so easily.

You did not witness first hand what your friends’ deaths meant to him. When the Captain waited for you at the top of the staircase, his expression never seemed out of the ordinary. Levi was kind enough to let you enjoy your first few days up with him simply enjoying the newfound freedom. He made the excuse that your two other comrades were out on business somewhere, and would be back to see you soon. Maybe, at the time, your excitement blinded you from the deeper emotions hidden in his voice.

When you found out the truth, their passing broke you. The fact that Levi shouldered any blame, however, is what twisted the knife. He had been grieving by himself; feeling that pain without anyone to comfort him. He had to put on a brave face just to see you; secretly spending that last month alone, probably relaying over and over how he would break the news to you.

Your remorse increased tenfold when it was him who held you, and him who put you back together, just like he had to for himself. And now he was by himself all over again.

I have to do something.

Splashing water on your face, you straightened up and looked in the mirror, a sudden surge of guilt coursing through your veins.

You refused to let Levi be alone this time around, no matter how he might feel about you now.

~~~~~~~

Part Two!

#snk levi #levi #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman gif #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #AoT #attack on titan imagines #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk fic #aot fic #levi x reader

1K notes · View notes

hyperfixationtimego · 3 years

Note

which is your favorite ship of each Danganronpa?

HAHA OH WHAT AN ASK

I yearn so much,,,,,,,too much perhaps

Because of this, my ships make no sense <3 yes I will be attempting to explain, but no they will not be coherent in the slightest <3

Trigger Happy Havoc

Favorite Ship: Makuwata (Makoto Naegi/Leon Kuwata)

OKAY SO-

When I first began playing danganronpa, Leon was INSTANTLY my favorite character. Call it the punk aesthetic, or the voice, or the bright colors, or the emotionally-driven personality; I just thought he was neat ❤️

Because the first interaction he has is with Makoto, it sort of solidified in my heart during his introduction! Introvert x extrovert ship dynamic my beloved,,,,,,

And I just think that Leon calling Makoto his “soulmate” is pretty poggers. Like the man really did have to consciously choose that word!!!!! And he did!!!!! + Makoto being patient with him and the whole “still, I think it’s impossible for me to hate him” just makes me [flappy hands] because god I kin that punk dumbass SO MUCH so I simply would like for Makoto to givb him a little kissy. just a little smooch on the cheek :)

Goodbye Despair

Favorite Ship: Komahina (Nagito Komaeda/Hajime Hinata)

I will be honest, the fact that I like this ship at all is mind-boggling to me. It is literally the ONLY protag/antag ship that I enjoy!!!

But, see, I think the main reason I like it is because Nagito never seems actively malicious during the main game (aside from chapter 4, but even then, he’s not being actively malicious towards Hinata. A lot of people misconstrue his behavior, I think, as being harsh and cruel, when in reality what’s happening is that he simply isn’t worshipping Hinata anymore. He’s being actively cruel towards the rest of the Ultimates, but we actually see him talk about how he and Hinata are pretty similar.

He’s not being a jerk during chapter 4. He’s been genuinely shaken to his core because of the horrific discovery of the fact that these people he cares about, these people he’s spent so much time with, these people he considers his friends, even if they don’t like him, are, in actuality, the personification of the only thing in this world he truly, and utterly, DESPISES.)

Nagito my beloved,,,,,,,ugh he is so Mentally ill™️ ❤️ (I SAY THIS AS A MENTALLY ILL PERSON ASKJDMSDN DON’T KILL ME) There’s also so much queercoding!!!! Of his character!!!!!! They really had him say the romantic I love you to Hajime,,,,,,,they really gave him and Mikan the solidarity during chapter 3!!!!!

And don’t even get me started on the fucking tragedy of him existing at all!!! It fucking hurts!!!! He’s so ashamed of everything about himself!!! He hides the fact that he’s sick and lonely!!! He’s afraid of dying alone!! He’s afraid of people not caring about him, but it’s essentially a self-fulfilling prophecy because of how hard he tries to push people away!

So long story short I just think Hinata would see this man and go “I could fix him. But first I’m gonna kick his teeth in.”

Ultra Despair Girls

Favorite Ship: Tokomaru/Syomaru (Toko Fukawa/Komaru Naegi/Genocide Jill)

YES I know this one is a bit of a cheat out, but I wanted to include them anyway!!!! Toko getting the love and appreciation she deserves???? Toko recovering from being continuously abused and ignored????? Her and Jill as a system being given the respect they BOTH deserve???? FUCK ME UP UGH

Blease,,,,,,Toko and Jill choosing Komaru over Togami,,,,,like canonically??? I’M OBSESSED

And Komaru’s little “Thank God I met Toko!” Voice line fucks ❤️

Also Toko 🤝 Jill

getting their girlfriend’s name wrong on purpose solidarity

Killing Harmony

Favorite Ship: I HAVE TWO FOR THIS GAME BECAUSE IT SLAPS SO HARD!!!! They’re Saimota (Shuichi Saihara/Kaito Momota) and Gontaguuji (Gonta Gokuhara/Korekiyo Shinguuji)

My explanation for saimota is literally just the canon game ❤️

ALSJSLSJD I’M JOKING BUT THEY’RE LITERALLY SO FRUITY /POS

and the love hotel scene,,,,,,,oh my god. “Nobody has ever made me want to stay in one place for so long.” said no straight man ever and “I understand, Kaito. I hold the key to your heart, but…” and also HOW SHUICHI LITERALLY FORGETS WHERE HE IS WHEN KAITO CLOSES THE DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM. HE TALKS ABOUT HOW KAITO IS SO CLOSE AND LOWKEY PANICS BECAUSE OF IT. TRY AND TELL ME THESE FUCKERS ARE STRAIGHT I DARE YOU. I DARE YOU.

personally,,,,,I believe they are underrated ❤️ another extrovert x introvert masterpiece, this time with the added benefit of best friends to lovers!!!!!!! PLEASE I love them so much oh my GOD

As for Gontaguuji,,,,,,,,heheh

traumatized bastard x traumatized sweetheart

They complement each other SO WELL and the fact that they have basically no canon interactions aside from Hair-Raising Panic is fucking CRIMINAL ❤️

Gonta having been raised by wolves is a rare anthropological opportunity for Kiyo!! Of COURSE Kiyo would go out of their way to interact with him and learn more!!!

Gonta is also a huge softie!!! Just a big ol’ affectionate lug!!! Literally everything that Korekiyo has never experienced before; straight up just a man that would put Kiyo’s well-being before anything else 😭

And Kiyo is extremely intelligent, literate, and patient! Like straight up please just imagine Gonta going up to Kiyo because he’s one of the smartest people Gonta knows and being like 🥺👉👈 “can Kiyo teach Gonta how to be smart? Gonta not want to be idiot….” And Kiyo sitting with him and explaining that he’s not stupid, it’s just that he’s a product of a society that is too impatient to appreciate the ways in which Gonta is actually able to express his intelligence.

THINK ABOUT THAT FOR TWO SECONDS AND TELL ME YOU DON’T THINK THEY’D BE GOOD FOR ONE ANOTHER

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years

Text

Cry Baby // Ethan Torchio // Playist Fic

words // 1244

warnings // angst angst angst, mentions of struggling with mental illnesses but nothing graphic, but also fluffy caring Ethan

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. aghhhh this is the first fic on my little playlist thingy omg and i am excited although this is v angsty oops. If you don't know what this is supposed to be, i have a playlist tagged on my masterlist, you can send in a song from there or an entirely different one and I use that song, the lyrics and the feeling its music gives me to write a fic.

song is cry baby by the neighbourhood

also, maybe im projecting or maybe im affected by fallon carrington singing her wedding vows lol. also the photo of ethan here, sooooo cute

request // nope

summary // Reader has a hard time trusting people. When Ethan comes into their life it get’s worse. Reader is preparing for unavoided heartbreak but Ethan just might change their mind heart.

They were too stuck in their own thoughts for this relationship. Maybe it started at the wrong time or it was the perfect time but they had the wrong mind. They felt like a narcissist, making everything about them, while having a hard time hearing his side.

He was perfect, too perfect to ever be in this relationship, and maybe that thought scared them. Living around people who only cared about themselves, people who never cared how much they hurt Y/N, they were afraid to admit they might be doing the same to him.

They had not been together for long, only a few months, but the man acted as if he knew them forever. He did not care if they knew each other for a month or five, he was not willing to let them suffer alone. There were the two am panic attacks, calling Ethan at that time, waking him from his sleep, crying about the inability to calm their mind and sleep. He never complained. Or the days he spend at their house, Y/N having a hard time getting off bed, the depressive episodes hitting a little too hard; Ethan spend those days rubbing their back, making sure that they were alright.

Maybe that is what drove Y/N to be defensive, maybe their mind was alarmed by the man’s caring behavior -something so unfamiliar yet needed for them- that they felt defensive every time he was around. Maybe they spoke too much, and they thought the man would be scared away from them. “I’m not going away, Y/N, not for a long time, not at all if it’s on my hand,” he’d say after every fight, when Y/N would say yet another thing they did not mean. He was just too perfect.

“I really meant what I said that, Y/N,” he all but whispered to his lover. “I do love you.”

“Don’t say that, Ethan. How do you even know, it’s too soon!” Excuses, excuses, excuses and more excuses to plain and simple sabotage to themselves.

“You just know, when you know, amore, and I do.”

They could not look at his eyes anymore, afraid that with just one glance from the man their tears would fall, their guards would fall. And, if they let the guards fall even for a moment, it made them vulnerable to twice the heartbreak. So their eyes stayed glued to the floor, never leaving or daring to think about looking elsewhere. Every other place felt like a danger zone.

“You don’t have to say it back, amore, but you can not expect me not to.”

The fear never left, the fear that the young man was lying. He could not actually feel that way, could he?

Just as Y/N spiraled into yet another anxiety attack, there he was again with his soothing words and his soft touch on their face, his breath so close and so fresh hitting their face. “I’ve got you, it’s ok, follow my breath baby, come on, you are doing amazing, that’s it…” It did not take long for them to calm down a bit. Maybe it was the fact that a person finally respected their emotions rather than getting offended by them, but they felt safe even if only for a moment. “I’m here, I love you.”

It kept happening, over and over and over again. The man would profess his love but his love was not ready to believe him. It got him exhausted. He did not mind waiting for them to say the words back, he understood their past and their pain and how hard it is to vocalize something you feel. What he did mind was their active refusal to believe him, so it was the time to confront them.

“Hey, Y/N, do you have a moment?” If a single phrase could put their mind in a frenzy it was this one. The words could not form so they simply nodded their head, moving towards the sitting man.

“Look, Y/N, I-”

“If you are to break up with me just do it,” they said, the words leaving their mouth before even getting the chance to be filtered. They did not want to say that, hell they simply did not want Ethan to break up with them, but the fear was impossible to be hidden.

“What?! Amore, are you even listening to yourself?” He was exasperated. How could Y/N possibly think that, even now, after almost a year together. It hurt the man, it hurt him how much they refused to open up but it also hurt him that someone caused that fear to them before.

“I know what is happening, Ethan. I know I am hurting you with my inability to say those stupid words back. I’ve heard what you said to Victoria the other night -I did not mean to (!)-” “Hey, hey, let’s pause for a second there, amore. I’m not breaking up with you, that is not the problem. But, if you really heard what I said to Vic that night you would not be saying what you are,” he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, holding his lover’s face between his palms, “I’ve told you countless times I love you, and I will never take that back. I know you do, too. You don’t say it but you show it, but my love, the issue is not the words. The issue is you don’t believe me.”

Y/N was left speechless, not knowing what to say to the man besides that he is right. They’ve been having a really hard time believing that they even slightly deserve this love, the love that the Italian drummer in question has given them more than enough of. He was so kind, so caring, so loving that the more the relationship progressed the harder they found it to believe in his words.

“You can’t possibly truly love me, Ethan,” Y/N said calmly, tears in their eyes, mostly from anger, anger targeted at their mind.

“Then why are you even with me, Y/N? Huh? If you don’t believe that why are we together for almost a year now?!” The high volume of his voice was a stark contrast to the soft and collected tone he usually had, but his emotions were starting to take over and it was utterly obvious at this point.

Y/N did not know what to do, being left speechless for the second time in less than two minutes. Their mind raced for an excuse, a reason as to why they kept being with him if they really did not believe him, until the answer came to them and it was like a lightbulb going off: “Because I know that I love you.”

It came out almost as a whisper, as if the words were trying to not be heard. It was a strain of their voice, a sudden sob accompanying the words that broke Ethan’s heart. His love, his sweet, sweet love, the person he could not stop yearning for no matter how close they were… they were hurt, afraid of being loved - or more so afraid of being lied to. Ethan pulled Y/N into his arms, hands rubbing comforting cycles, lips letting the sweetest of nothings to come out.

“It’s ok, it’s alright, I got you, I’m here, I’m holding you, I am not leaving, I love you.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

#måneskin #maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio #playlist series

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

i can hate you sometimes || h. styles

warnings: pre-covid, mentions of sex, swearing, kissing

word count: 2.2k

summary: you and harry have mutual friends, but that doesn’t mean you two are friends. but when harry gets caught in the rain and you’re the closest person he can turn to, it makes for a much more awkward night...

Though you could respect Harry’s artistic abilities when it came to creating music, you could barely tolerate him as a person. Likewise, he wasn’t at all too fond of you. You shared friends in common, which often unfortunately resulted in many a night out with him and your mutual friends.

Yes, Harry was a respectful man. That was perhaps the one thing you could say didn’t irritate you about him. Everything else, the subtle cockiness he played off as jokes; the incessant need to be centre of attention; the bloated ego, which left him thinking he was above everyone else, all of that stuff, you couldn’t stand. But he wasn’t going to stop you from enjoying time with your friends, so you continued to go out drinking with them or go out for big meals with them or on lavish holidays with them. Unfortunately, he had the same mindset. You were both very stubborn.

Going out with your friends when Harry was there seemed like a difficult task at first. But if you sat at the opposite end of the table or stayed fairly distant in a club, the night tended to run smoothly. The one time you’d been left alone was around a year ago when you and Harry had gone out for dinner with Sarah and Mitch. Sarah had gone to the toilet and Mitch had gone to pay the bill. It had been two or three minutes maybe, but it felt like long, excruciating hours. Days, even. You’d distracted yourself by finishing off your wine and trying hard to look anywhere but in Harry’s direction. He’d busied himself with his phone and trying hard to look anywhere but your direction. But, either way, it had been perhaps the most awkward experience of your life.

And now, on a quiet Sunday evening, you found yourself preparing some pasta. Your dog, albeit too big for his own good, was curled up in front of the fireplace. You had your laptop set up on your coffee table, your classical music playlist floating through your house.

It had begun raining heavily about five minutes ago. The droplets were pelting down on your large windows. You had some candles set up and a glass of wine waiting for you on the coffee table in your living room. It was the perfect romantic evening for one.

A knock on your front door took your attention from the boiling water before you. You quickly jogged through to your hallway, opening the door. And, much to your surprise and perhaps disappointment, you were met with the face of Harry Styles. “Can I help you?” you asked, staring at him expectantly.

He sighed, almost embarrassed to ask, but said, “Can I stop at yours until the rain passes?”

You looked him up and down. Stop at yours? Why did that send your stomach into a state of flutters? “Just get an uber,” you said firmly.

He winced, “My phone’s dead. Can you at least let me charge it so I can get an uber?”

You weren’t a fan of Harry (biggest understatement of the year), but that didn’t mean you were an utter asshole. Of course you would let him stop at yours for a little while. Anyone would, right? You sighed, making sure he knew this was a reluctant decision of yours, “Sure.”

He thanked you as he shuffled into your house. He removed his coat and hung it up on your coat rack. Quietly, he followed you into your living room. “Here,” you said curtly, passing him one of your spare chargers.

The entire exchange was even more awkward than last year’s meal with Sarah and Mitch. Benny, your dog, was quite clearly enthralled about the arrival of Harry. He jumped up at the brunette man, his tongue hanging loose. As you tended to your exuberant pasta meal, you could hear Harry petting Benny.

On the few occasions Harry had met Benny, he loved the dog. But, Benny was a dog after all and it was hard to hate a dog. Especially one as lovable and as cuddly as Benny. Harry’s footsteps became louder as he entered the kitchen, Benny, tail wagging, not far behind. It was only when you looked up did you notice Harry carrying your laptop with him. Your first instinct was to tell him to put it the fuck down; it was your laptop - you paid good money for it. But something seemed to stop you from snapping at the man, who was soaked from the rain, in front of you. Usually, you struggled with biting your tongue around Harry. He was just infuriating. “Can I please put something else on?” he asked, gesturing to the screen, which had Spotify open.

You shrugged. You weren’t that bothered if he wasn’t in the mood to listen to your collection of great classical records. It was his loss. Besides, your pasta was nearly finished and then you’d dish it up and settle down in front of the tv. “Sure.”

There was a moment of silence after he’d paused to whatever piece was playing. “What’s this?” his voice came suddenly.

You knew exactly what he’d found. And you practically kicked yourself for forgetting you had it. It was your playlist, simply titled ‘sex’. A sex playlist. A playlist for sex. “I didn’t take you as the type to have a designated sex playlist,” he said, smirking.

“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you grumbled, your cheeks heating up.

“Clearly. Some interesting choices on here, Y/N. Not as many of mine as I thought there’d be,” he said.

There was none. None of Harry’s songs on your sex playlist and, if he was being honest, it kind of irritated him slightly. The thought of you having sex to his voice was an enriching one. But what most definitely pissed him off, was the sight of a couple Liam Payne songs and a few of Zayn’s. “I didn’t think Sign of the Times was right for the occasion,” you shrugged. “Do you want some pasta?”

“If there’s some going,” he said quickly. “I do have other songs you know. Besides, Sign of the Times is a great sex song. Starts off slow, builds to a climax...”

You turned to look at him. Only then did you realise you were actually having this conversation with him. Still, you pressed on. “All songs build to a climax one way or another. It’s called a crescendo.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s fucking called,” he sighed. “I’m the musician here.”

“And yet you can’t appreciate classical music. Anyway, if you’re so convinced you have good sex songs, name a few,” you challenged.

He spoke as he followed you through to the living room. You set his bowl of pasta (you always had a habit of making your portions way too large) down on the coffee table beside the candles and wine. “Okay, Kiwi.”

You hummed in thought, “What if I want something a little slower? Like, Kiwi could totally ruin the mood.”

He shifted in his seat. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his phone light up, signalling it had at least a little bit of power. But now he was eating your fresh pasta and discussing sex songs with you, and frankly, he didn’t want to leave. “Woman? You can’t tell me you’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” he said.

“Well, I can. So I will: I’ve never had sex with Woman playing,” you replied; you liked this game.

“Okay, come on. She is the perfect sex song,” he said smugly.

Now this one tripped you up. Because you’d had sex to She before. It had come on when the guy you were sleeping with asked if he could shuffle his playlist. She had come on second, maybe. And those six minutes had been the best of your life. You told yourself it was just the guy you were seeing at the time, and he certainly didn’t mind the compliment. But, in hindsight, you realised it was probably the fact that Harry was singing about living in daydreams in the background. In that moment, the sex hadn’t even been at the forefront of your mind. It was his fucking velvet voice. “I wouldn’t know.”

He smirked, “You’ve had sex to She, haven’t you?”

“No.”

“You have! I knew it.”

“Piss off, Harry.”

You hoped your nonchalant replies would be enough to deter his attention from the subject at hand. But alas, he didn’t seem to pick up on it. That, or he was deliberately ignoring your tone. You were beginning to regret letting Harry into your house. And you weren’t afraid to tell him so. “I wish I’d just left you in the rain.”

He scoffed, “That’s not very nice, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes at him, making sure he saw. God, you could really hate him sometimes. “Harry, we’re literally discussing my sex life. It’s none of your business. And a bit personal, don’t you think? You don’t even know my surname.”

You got to your feet and made your way through to the kitchen, placing your empty bowl in the sink. You could hear him behind you, you just wanted to turn around and tell him to give you a moment to yourself. He was like a puppy. Before you had the chance to do so, you felt him lean over, placing his bowl beside yours. He was so close.

Turning around slowly, you were met with him. He was there, right there. You looked up at him. He wasn’t moving. You were torn between pushing past him, making sure he knew you were angry and staying for a while, basking in the sexual tension that was buzzing around in the air. “I do know your surname,” was all he said.

He was so close, his eyes exploring your face as if he’d never seen it before. Trapped between Harry and the kitchen counter, you’d fantasised about this moment for ages. Harry’s face a mere few centimetres away from your own. You could feel his breath on your face. It was warm, welcoming. “Do you?” you choked out.

He nodded slightly. The revelation of Harry knowing your surname was almost surprising to you. You didn’t think he paid that much attention to anything that had something to do with you. Up until this point, standing in your kitchen, neither of you daring to make the first move, you’d thought he only knew your first name because he was obliged to.

You both yearned the simple delight of the other’s touch. All the pent up sexual tension from the last years, longing looks disguised as glares of disgust and the little snarky remarks used as an excuse to talk to each other, all of that began unravelling at the seams. He looked at you and you looked at him, both of you daring the other to make the first point of euphoric contact. “Harry,” you forced out quietly, hoping he’d take that as a sign that he could touch you, kiss you, anything.

“What do you want?” he hummed gently. “What can I give you?”

“Just kiss me.”

You were also embarrassed that, after years of suppressing your enrapturing feelings, you were asking him to kiss you. And still, he didn’t touch you. It was like he was playing some sick game with you. And then the dreadful thought that he might just be doing all of this to give him a means to mock you in the future. If that was the case, he’d have the perfect upper hand over you. “Do you still wish you’d left me in the rain?” he asked, almost taunting you as he left you practically begging for his touch.

You shook your head, “No, no. God, no. Harry, please.”

“Anything you want, darling.”

“Kiss me.”

“Only if you’re sure you want me to.”

“I do, Harry. Please.”

And when he was sure he had your definite consent, he didn’t waste another moment. He placed his large hand on your cheek, the tips of his fingers buried in your hair. His lips on yours was perhaps the most perfect form of ecstasy. As you wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head up to meet his, you were sure you’d travelled to some distant infatuating dreamland you only ever hear about.

Reluctantly, you pulled away, panting slightly, “Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Don’t get an uber. Stay with me tonight.”

A smile crept its way up into Harry’s features. He tried to hide how elated he was that you’d proposed he spend the night with you. A grin tugged at the corners of his lips, which were parted slightly. All he wanted to do was indulge his need for your perfect taste all night. From the moment the sky went from the most divine lavender colour to the most starry black, to the moment it turned back to the most marvellous oranges and reds in the waking of the sun. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that to me.”

part two.

#harry fanfiction #harry imagine #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry x reader #harry imagines #harry styles imagines

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