#did you make the right choice? do you fully understand? will you ever? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imsilay · 6 months

Text

FRIABLE

“easily broken into pieces”

cw: toxic ex!König (not so ex lmao), smut :>, noncon. (idk lmk if i missed something)

summary: König doesn’t believe in breaking up.

(cr on pic)

You were relaxed, totally carefree in your home. Couch full of blankets and pillows, so warm and cozy. Just how you liked it. A sitcom playing in the TV as a background noise when you heard a noise, a loud, very loud thud from your kitchen. The thud made you feel like a hand's nails digging into your heart, squeezing it in its palm. Heavy footsteps followed the thud. You quickly grabbed your phone and pulled the covers up to your head, so the intruder wouldn't notice you immediately. Hopefully, not until you managed to call the police. The trembling of your hands made it harder to type your password correctly. Your fingers stumbling to find the correct numbers to click, and the constant noise of footsteps was making it harder. When you couldn’t manage to type the password - swearing yourself under your breath for setting such a ridiculous code- the footsteps inched closer and closer. You tried to calm your breathing, squeezing the blankets in your fist in an attempt to calm down, hoping the intruder wouldn’t notice you and leave after getting whatever they want.

“What are you doing there, Maus?” you heard him chuckle lightly and bend his knees to be at the same level as your lying form. And you froze, hoping you heard him wrong. It could be him, right? Yeah, you broke up with him long ago and he hadn’t reacted to you ever since. You must have heard wrong. “Did you think you became invisible by covering yourself like that, hm?” he cooed, his voice dripping with honey. Making you wish it was just a robber with a voice similar to him. But once a hand grabbed the covers and pulled them off, you had to face the truth. König was here. Still looking down at you with that icy blue eyes and endless love in them. His eyes moved down from your eyes to your lips, then down to your cleavage. And then down to your thighs, exposed from your shorts. As if he was deciding his path to follow. Then he tilted his head to the side and looked back into your eyes. They were wide open and staring at him, trying to understand his intentions. “I liked the choice in clothes but I would love it if you weren’t wearing anything.” he joked and chuckled again as his hand came to cup your face and pull you up to sit straight before him.

“What are you doing here?” a scowl started to form on your face. You were sure that you made it obvious that you didn’t want him anymore when you broke up with him three whole months ago. And you were certain he understood it because he never called you since. So why’d he break into your house now? “And did you broke my fucking door?” now, you were scowling and your hand had raised to grab his and yank it away from your face. However, he was quick to move before you, managing to place himself away from your reach, before standing up fully before you. His hands left your face for a moment before sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around your smaller form. “It was the only way in, you didn’t think I would fit into the window, ja?” his voice full of amusement as it showed that he couldn’t care less about being your ex. You placed your hands on his forearms in a pathetic attempt to push him off, but it only made him tighten his grip and pull your body onto his lap. “Don’t be like that.” he huffed like a kid who couldn’t get candy, “I missed Meine Königin so much. Didn’t you miss me?” he mumbled, his head nuzzled into your neck. You stopped squirming to get out of his grasp as he pressed his nose into your neck through his mask.

You were speechless about how casual he was about the whole thing. “We broke up.” you felt that you needed to remind him since he acted like you never did. “Hmm?” he mumbled softly, his thumbs caressing the skin of your upper back and waist. and his arms cradling your body so tightly that there was barely a centimetre between your bodies. “I said, we broke up!” you proclaimed, trying to push him, “So stop hugging me!” you yelled as your hands were squeezed between the both your bodies, preventing you from moving even an inch. “Let go of me!” you yelled at him, irritated with his strength. “I missed your scent.” he mumbled completely ignoring you cries to be free, “You always smell so good.” One of his hands let go of you only to take off his mask and reveal his face to you. Then it found its place on your back. You wanted to scream at him, to curse and spit on his face. And you did. But he only smiled, pressing his lips on yours to shut you up. He thought the way you yelled at him was cute. His tongue explored your mouth like a King came back to celebrate his victory in his land after a successful battle. His lips sucked yours as if he was drinking water first time after three month.

He groaned into your mouth when you bit his bottom lip to stop him from kissing you so hungrily but it made the blood in his system rush southwards. He buckled his hips upwards to meet yours and when his crotch pressed against yours he let out another groan. Being away from you made him more sensitive than he is, that was why you felt him grow harder under your hips as he kissed you breathless and grabbed a fistful of your hair desperately. When he was out of breath he let go of your lips just to press his lips onto your neck and breath in your scent. “You son of a…” you started to curse at him but your voice cut off with a gasp when he bit the soft skin on your neck. He immediately licked and pressed a soft kiss on ther irritated skin but you knew it would leave a bruise. “Let me have you, Meine Königin.” he purred, his voice was sweet like honey, like a child asking for a hug. But he was not a child and you weren’t the one to oblige his wishes. Well not anymore. “No.” you said firmly. His hands squeezed your sides like he couldn’t bear the thought of not having you. Being inside your tight cunt, having your sweaty body agains his, kissing you as he felt you got close and clench around him was like breathing for him.

He needed you for living. “Meine Königin.” he breathed as he looked into your eyes with with tears welling eyes. “Don’t you love me? You know i’m the best for you. No one can love you the way i do. Can’t you feel how i need you, hm?” he moved his hips up to press his huge bulge on your crotch, earning a little whimper from you when he brushed against your most sensitive spot. His eyes lit up at the sound of your cute whimper but he hide it immediately after noticing the scowl on your face. “I didn’t forgive you for what you did.” you spat at him and got angrier when you remembered what he did. “Are you still talking about that guy?” he growled and pressed you against him firmly like anyone can steal you from his arms in any moment. “He was hitting on you. I did what i should do.” his tone giving away how ‘regretful’ he was by his actions. “You shoot his legs, both of them, before my eyes!” you shouted at him completely speechless by the way he acted. “We’re over it now. It’s nothing you should think about anymore. And where were we?” he mumbled then a smile tugged on his lips before adding, “Oh, i was about to take these off.” he threw your shirt and bra off before you could register what was happening and buried his head between your soft mounds. You put your hands on his shoulders to push him away but he captured one of your nipples into his mouth and sucked gently, knowing how sensitive they were. You moaned softly before squeezing the shoulders of his tight black shirt as he rolled his tongue around your nipple.

Your mind got foggy for a second when he gently nibbled and hungrily sucked one of them whilst pinching and rolling the other. “K-König stop-“ you moaned and grabbed his hair desperately, but not to pull him away. Instead you pulled him closer as your body rose up from the way it had you feel like. You didn’t knew why but any intimate touch felt way more intense with him. By the time you wanted to slap him across the face, you also wanted to grab his hair and pressed his face into your pussy. You could feel the slickness on your panties when he switched up to the other nipple and sweetly tortured it the same. “Every inch of you is so delicious.” he mumbled with a dizzy tone as he let go of your breasts and licked a line from your neck to your ear. “It makes me want to eat you whole.” he whispered, his tone was thick with lust and desperation. “If i could be inside your sweet cunt all the time,” he trailed off to press his massive bulge into your clad pussy. “i would never want to leave this pretty pussy.” he purred and eventually his thick fingers brushed over your waist to stop on your waistband. “Now i will ask you for the last time, Meine Königin. Can i take you?” then he added with a sensual kiss on the back of your ear, like the sweet boy he is, “Bitte?” the situation got you dizzy with the want, you could feel the wetness ruining your panties, the need for him to fuck you into the makeshift nest on your couch. You still haven’t forgiven him but you decided to delay it when he pressed you right onto his crotch by your hips.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :* and i love to reply all of them :>

i need him so bad _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_

3K notes · View notes

lonely-cowboy · 4 months

Text

chasing rainbows

pairing: connor (rk800) x f!reader

summary: you recently learned that connor has only ever seen the world in one color. gutted at the thought of such a colorless world, you decide to help him see the beauty of the world. only he doesn't care about the world. he only cares about you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: nothing major, but lowkey a mess bc this is my first longer-ish fic, reader is really embracing her y/n moment, connor is so ooc it's kinda insane but i love him so whatever, they're both really confused about their feelings until they're suddenly not

author's note: i'm replaying dbh as one does bc i was sad and missed connor AND I'M LITERALLY FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE THIS PLAYTHROUGH?? my first playthrough was so nice and sweet and silly so now i'm trying to get other endings BUT I'M NOT STRONG ENOUGH FOR ALL THE EMOTIONAL DAMAGE?? anyway, my solution (as always) was to write happy connor and some grumpy hank yay! yes i did spend the first 1k words talking about literal colors, ignore that

masterlist ⟡ requests

Work was never the place to do work. That was something you learned from Hank after working under him for years.

Sitting at your desk that was situated across from Hank and Connor, you decided to ignore your terminal and the case report it displayed. You’d get to it eventually. Eventually. Besides, you were confident that you would be able to finish it relatively quickly.

Instead, you were tiredly flipping through a book of color swatches. Your gaze flitted across endless pages, darting from color to color as you searched for something eye-catching. In your recent efforts to make your apartment feel more homely, you decided it was time to add an accent wall, you just needed the right color. Obviously, the precinct was the best place to be color searching.

By the time you reached the end of the swatch booklet, you had only found two colors that interested you. At least then it would be easier to make a decision. You eyed the olive and plum swatches like you would a homicide suspect, trying your best to picture them in your apartment. You pursed your lips in thought, staring at the colors for so long that you could’ve sworn you were going cross-eyed.

“Detective?” Connor called, your eyes snapping to meet his. “Are you alright?”

“Actually, no, I’m not,” you answered with an exaggerated sigh, trying to sound as hopeless as possible. “I’m having quite the dilemma.”

“Is there anything I can help you with?” he asked.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart melt. He always showed such care for you. Sometimes you wondered if it was just another part of his social programming, but somehow, you knew it wasn’t. Connor genuinely did care about you, even when it was just your inability to pick a paint color. You almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.

“I just can’t for the life of me decide on a paint color,” you said, glancing up at him with that shit-eating grin he was unfortunate to know so well.

Connor’s pleasant smile collapsed into a disappointed frown once he realized he had succumbed to your teasing.

“Saw that coming from a mile away,” Hank grumbled.

“You can help too, Lieutenant!” you said in an excessively cheerful tone, just to annoy Hank. “It’s not like you’re doing anything important.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, kid” Hank sighed, turning his chair to face you fully. Work was never the place to do work.

With both Connor and Hank focused on you, you slid the two color swatches across your desk. Hank leaned forward with mild interest, nodding his head to himself as he considered both choices. Connor mimicked Hank, leaning forward and furrowing his brows at the sight of the swatches.

After a long moment of deliberation, Hank finally said, “Green.”

You nodded in approval as Connor looked at Hank with what could only be described as pure confusion. He then turned back to the colors before looking at you with an unsettled expression.

“I don’t understand,” Connor murmured. “These colors are the same.”

You and Hank stared at Connor in bewilderment. Maybe you could understand it if the colors were different shades of the same color and androids just had a poor sense of color differentiation. But these swatches weren’t even remotely close in color. There was nothing similar about them at all.

You and Hank exchanged a look of confusion. Maybe this was Connor’s attempt at a joke. No, he had made jokes before, and they were genuinely funny. Especially the ones that poked fun at Hank.

“Connor,” you started. “What do you mean?”

“They’re the same,” Connor repeated with a shrug, looking between you and Hank like he didn’t understand what he was missing. And he obviously didn’t understand.

“One is olive, one is plum,” you said.

“Green and purple,” Hank offered rather unhelpfully.

Connor only shrugged again, still unable to differentiate the two.

“Does anything look different than normal?” you questioned.

“No,” Connor replied simply.

Was it possible for androids to be colorblind? The idea baffled you. The only way Connor could be colorblind was if he was programmed to be that way. Why would he be programmed to not see color?

“Can you… I don’t know… describe what things look like to you?” you asked unsurely. Was that too abstract of a thought for an android? It was already too abstract for you. “Does everything look the same color?”

Connor considered your question, eyes narrowed as he glanced around the precinct. Hank looked at you like you were crazy for wanting to get to the root of this. Maybe you were.

“I… I suppose it all appears relatively similar,” Connor said with equal uncertainty.

You frowned at that. The world must have seemed so… well, sad to Connor. You hated the thought of his world being limited to a single color. He deserved to see the world for what it really was. He deserved so much… If you could at least give him this one thing, you would be satisfied.

“Do you want to change that?” you proposed.

“I admit, I would be curious,” Connor replied.

Immediately, you jumped up from your desk chair and started putting your coat on. Connor took that as a sign to do the same, rising from his chair to stand beside you.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hank interjected. “Where do you two think you’re going?”

“To help Connor, obviously,” you replied with a bratty eye roll.

“That has nothing to do with work, kid, sit down,” Hank retorted, preferring that the two of you stayed with him so that he didn’t have to suffer alone.

“This has everything to do with work,” you countered like the typical asshole Hank knew you as. “Don’t you realize all the ways this probably inhibits Connor’s work? I mean, picture a typical crime scene. There are probably so many details he’s missing because he can’t fucking see color!”

“Actually,” Connor remarked. “I speculate that my limited color sensory was included in an effort to keep me focused on my investigations and avoid any distractions–”

“Connor,” you intervened, turning to give him a stern look.

“Yes, Detective?”

“Shut up.”

Immediately, Connor sealed his lips shut and pressed them into a thin line. You adored it when he listened to you.

You turned your attention back to Hank, flashing that brilliant smile that told him you weren’t going to listen to a single fucking thing he said. He sighed grumpily at the sight of it, turning back to his desk with a shake of his head.

In the absence of any other objections, you grabbed Connor’s hand and led him out of the precinct. You wondered if he could see the vibrant blush that coated your cheeks at the intimate contact. You hoped not.

He did.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Are you sure about this?” you questioned hesitantly.

In the middle of your living room, you stood in front of Connor with his new occipital unit in hand. You held it gingerly as if the slightest touch would break it. Although it was a lot easier to purchase biocomponents than you had expected. If it were to break, you would only have to walk three or so blocks to buy a new one.

You looked at Connor worriedly while he stood patiently. You were far, far from any kind of engineer. You had absolutely zero experience when it came to replacing android biocomponents. No matter how many times Connor reassured you, you still stressed at the thought of making a mistake. He promised it was easy, but how could changing biocomponents be anywhere close to easy?

“You can do it, I promise,” Connor murmured encouragingly.

His hand came up to encircle your wrist, tugging your hand forward gently. Your cheeks heated at the contact, making you aware of just how close the two of you were. You glanced away bashfully as you were overwhelmed by butterflies. When you returned your attention to Connor, you watched in awe as the skin around his right eye peeled away, revealing the natural white plastic. Connor’s eyes flicked across your face nervously, worried that you might be disturbed. But to you, it was like seeing a new and vulnerable side to Connor, one that you very much enjoyed.

As you reached for his current occipital unit, you froze with your brows furrowed. Your apartment was far from an interesting sight. There wasn’t much to look at, your apartment still lacking a homely feeling. Damnit, you really needed that accent wall.

“Come on,” you said without explanation.

You moved to leave your apartment after gently placing the two new occipital units into your bag. Slugging it over your shoulder, you waited at the door for Connor to follow. Connor stared after you, the white plastic disappearing.

“Come on,” you repeated, gesturing for him to follow.

Connor followed without a second thought. God, it really was so endearing when he listened.

You led Connor out of your apartment building and across the street to the nearby park. You wandered aimlessly for what felt like hours, trying to find the most scenic view for Connor to enjoy as his first sight.

At last, you settled on a bench situated in front of a little pond. Tall, stooping trees crowded the pond with just enough space between their branches to see the bright sky above. You were glad to be enjoying this moment in the fall when the leaves were the perfect shades of orange.

You stood with your hands on your hips, eyeing the view with a skeptical glint. Connor would be able to see a good range of colors from here. This place would do just fine.

Pulling Connor along, you sat him down on the bench by lightly pressing on his shoulders. Once he was seated with his hands neatly placed along his thighs, you reached for the first occipital unit from your bag.

“Okay,” you said with a determined huff. “Much better view, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see it very well,” Connor replied cheekily.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, rolling your eyes at Connor’s teasing. This only meant he had been spending a concerning amount of time around you and Hank. When you looked back at him, you exhaled slowly, “Ready?”

Connor nodded once, revealing the white plastic of his right eye once again. Before pulling it out, you reached forward and pressed a soft hand overtop Connor’s eyes, silently reminding him to keep his eyes closed until you said otherwise. When you pulled your hand away, you were pleased to find that his eyes remained closed.

Your fingertips then pressed against the plastic of Connor’s occipital unit. It popped out easily, allowing you to pull it out slowly and with ease, just as Connor had promised. It was jarring to see him without an eye. Or rather without a whole chunk of his face. You worried you might still mess up, leaving him without half of his face.

But when you pressed the new occipital unit forward, you found that it was just as easy as pulling the old one out. It took a moment to adjust, but the new part quickly shifted to match Connor’s appearance, his freckled skin melting over it and the doe-like shape of his eyes returning. That made you sigh with relief. You just hoped they were still the same beautiful brown you found yourself constantly lost in.

You then did the same with his other eye, quietly applauding yourself for not making a single mistake.

With his occipital units in place, you rounded the bench to stand behind Connor whose eyes remained closed obediently. Standing behind him, you placed your hands over his eyes once again, a giddy smile adorning your lips.

“You ready?” you asked, unable to contain your excitement.

“I think so,” Connor said hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’re ready,” you decided.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away, studying Connor with a sweet smile. You expected him to enjoy the view in silence, looking at every single thing he possibly could. But you were surprised to find that he barely even regarded the view. Instead, he immediately turned to look at you from over his shoulder.

With a tentative hand, he reached out for your hand that rested on the bench’s back. He pulled you gently around the bench so that you stood in front of him. His hand still held your limp hand as he stood to face you. He looked down at you with a small but warm smile, eyes exploring every inch of your face.

The unexpected attention had your heart racing, a nervous heat spreading throughout your body. You clenched your jaw tightly, a jumble of confusing and unwanted emotions consuming your entirety. Not wanting to say anything stupid to ruin… whatever this moment was, you clamped your mouth shut. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander, exploring Connor’s features the same way he did yours.

Connor’s warm touch left your hand, making you frown ever so slightly. But you were immediately comforted as he placed both hands on your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles along your cheekbones like they had a mind of their own, relaxing your clenched jaw. His eyes locked with yours, never once blinking in fear that he would miss something if he did.

You practically forgot how to speak. You forgot how to do everything. It was a hassle to recall how you were even supposed to breathe. The only thing you could do was stare at Connor with a dreamy glimmer in your eyes.

“Your eyes are really pretty,” Connor mumbled.

You swallowed timidly before speaking, “Thank you.”

“You’re…” Connor began before his LED circled red.

Your gaze flickered to his LED, watching intently as it continued to flash red. That was a poor move on your part. Having broken the intense eye contact, Connor glanced away from you, looking straight ahead and dropping his hands from your cheeks like he suddenly awoke from a trance. Focused on the horizon, Connor’s LED spiraled yellow several times before returning to its typical blue.

His sudden change in attitude only added to your confusion of emotions. You took a pained step back, eyes falling to the ground.

“I didn’t expect the leaves to be this color,” Connor commented casually.

You cleared your throat and turned your back to Connor to focus on the leaves. You didn’t want him to see your embarrassed flush, though you were sure he already did.

“They’re not always this color,” you muttered. “Only in the fall. In the warmer months, they’re green.”

You caught a glimpse of Connor tilting his head, his nose scrunched with intrigue. He tried to visualize what that would look like, but having only seen one color since his creation, he didn’t seem to understand.

“Green like… like the grass,” you clarified, pointing to an open patch of grass.

“I’d like to see that. Perhaps you can bring me back here in the spring,” Connor hummed. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Are there other colors to see?”

“So many more,” you answered, flashing Connor a small (and slightly awkward) smile.

Connor trailed along beside you as you strolled through the park. Still too embarrassed to look at him, you also took the opportunity to admire the beauty of the park’s striking colors. You were ignorant to the way Connor watched you contently out of the corner of his eye. Of all the wonderfully colorful sights, you were by far his favorite. You were the only thing he could look at.

“Which one is your favorite?” Connor asked as you slowed your walk, having walked the entirety of the park. “Color, I mean.”

You stopped to consider his question, looking around at the abundance of colors. They were all so beautiful in their own ways that it was difficult to choose. But then your eyes landed on Connor, and it seemed so clear.

“Blue,” you replied definitively.

You felt foolish for your choice, but you couldn’t help that there was some truth to it. Blue had always been a pleasant color, but after knowing Connor, it took on a different meaning. When Connor’s LED was blue, it indicated he was happy. Or at least satisfied. You liked to see him when he was happy. It eased your mind knowing he was content. Because of him, it was now a color you associated with joy.

Though you didn’t say anything, you looked away flustered, wondering if Connor could somehow read your mind. You wouldn’t be at all surprised if he could.

“Do you have a favorite?” you inquired quickly.

Connor pursed his lips, mimicking you as he looked around the park. His head then snapped down to look at you, eyes immediately finding yours. He cocked his head curiously the way he always did. The way that made you so weak you could barely stand.

“What color are your eyes?” Connor wondered.

Your eyes widened, eyebrows arched as if you had misheard him. But you knew you hadn’t.

The way he spoke so nonchalantly drove you insane. How could he be so casual about something like this? Did he know what he was doing to you? Was he doing it on purpose? What did any of this mean? Was there any chance at all that he could care for you the same way you did him?

“Uh…,” you mumbled, stuttering out your eye color.

Connor nodded thoughtfully at your answer, his charming eyes still latched onto yours.

“Then that’s what I would say,” said Connor. “Your eyes are my favorite.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, clueless as to how on earth you were supposed to respond to that.

The corners of Connor’s lips quirked into an affectionate smile. He arched his brows at you like he expected something more than just oh.

Your mind was racing for anything to say. Were you just supposed to ignore Connor’s loving words that felt far too much like a subtle confession? Were you supposed to confront it head-on? Neither of those options sounded good.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I like them too.”

As you cursed yourself endlessly for saying the stupidest fucking thing to come to mind, Connor’s grin widened. A quiet laugh escaped his lips, one that you didn’t hear through the blaring alarms screaming “why are you such an idiot?” in your head.

“That was stupid,” you groaned, deciding it was better to admit it than ignore it. “But… thank you. You… you have pretty eyes too.”

“Thank you, Detective,” Connor said cheerfully.

You moved to continue walking with Connor close at your side. Maybe you were crazy (there was always a good chance of that), but you could’ve sworn he was standing considerably closer than before. Your arm swung at your side, his arm brushing against yours in the slightest. It didn’t matter how insignificant that touch was, it meant something to you. Maybe it meant something to Connor too.

You had been walking in complete silence until Connor spoke, his words making you trip and fumble and scream and cry and scream and die a little.

“You’re pretty to look at. All of you, not just your eyes,” he said, shooting you an adorably attractive wink for emphasis.

You stopped dead in your tracks, Connor trailing ahead until he noticed you were no longer beside him. You stared at him with a far too serious expression, one that made him doubt his words. How could he be so casual about something so serious? Did he actually feel this way, or was it all a heartless prank?

“Your words are really fucking with me, Connor, you know that?” you said.

“I know,” Connor nodded with a cocky edge. God, he really was spending way too much time with you and Hank to be this snarky.. “Your heart has been racing the entire time we’ve been together.”

“So you’re purposefully torturing me?”

“I wouldn’t consider this torture. But, yes. I suppose I’ve been… holding this over you.”

“Well, stop that!”

Connor flashed you a cheeky grin as he approached you again. His hands moved to cup your reddened cheeks, warming them with his soft touch.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t do this to you,” Connor said fondly. “Not when you’ve shown me how beautiful the world is… How beautiful you are.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, trying to hide the smile that crept along your lips.

“You’ve told me before that I’m terrible at shutting up, I don’t see why I should start now.”

You and Connor wore matching smirks as you tried to best the other, subconsciously moving closer to each other.

“Oh, so you don’t want to shut up and kiss me?” you parried.

“When did those words ever leave my mouth?”

“When did you get so cocky?”

“When I realized I could have you.”

You had nothing to say after that. No witty remark or snide comment. All you could offer was a gentle smile.

Connor leaned forward, his nose brushing against yours. He was so close that you could feel his breath– so real for an android– against your lips.

“Pretty smile too,” he murmured, his lips grazing yours.

“It’d look even prettier if you actually kissed me,” you whispered.

Connor knew he couldn’t win this battle of wits. He honorably accepted his loss, knowing it was the only way to kiss you. You beamed into his kiss, proud of yourself for being so stubborn. That was quickly lost on you when you felt the softness of Connor’s lips. You indulged in his touch, leaning forward against his chest to feel as much of him as possible.

Connor pulled away sooner than you would have liked, resting his forehead against yours. A breath of a laugh escaped his lips when he saw that desperate glint in your eyes. He pulled back to look you in the eye after pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. His thumb brushed under your eye, lost in the color he loved so dearly.

“You’ll always be my favorite sight.”

#detroit become human #connor x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #dbh connor #connor rk800

338 notes · View notes

gogh-with-the-flow · 3 months

Text

Part 4 of cheating!Soap. Simon's POV. Angst. Potentially ooc Simon.

---

Simon Riley is a bad man. He wasn't given much of a choice really. He was dealt a bad hand that kept getting worse and worse. He tried to live a good life, despite his childhood, but it was all taken away from him in fire and blood. So he threw himself into it headfirst. He dove into it and found comfort in the fire and blood. He knew fire and blood. He's good at fire and blood.

Simon Riley is a lonely man. All his life, he's never had anyone. He keeps everyone he meets at arms-length at a minimum. He doesn't do love. He doesn't believe in it. The last time he tasted it was from his mother, and that taste has long since been replaced by the tinny taste of blood. He's comfortable being alone. He fills his time with work, and on the rare occasion he's sent back home to his barren flat in Manchester, the most he does is find a quick fuck at a pub.

He doesn't care about their names, he doesn't particularly care if they're a man or woman or something in between. He doesn't care what they look like, he hardly looks at them at all. They're just a means to an end for him. Just a warm hole to stuff himself into to feel good for a bit, to make his head quiet for a bit. He leaves once he's done. He never stays the night, never even stays much longer than to tie off his condom and pull his trousers back up.

It all changed when he met that damned spitfire of a man John MacTavish. Goes by the name 'Soap'. A ridiculous nickname in Simon's opinion, but then again, he goes by Ghost, so he doesn't have much room to talk.

Soap is loud and brash, but he can be careful and focused, too. He's intensely loyal and has a deep sense of justice. He fights for what's right, Ghost has seen it. He makes the icy shell around Ghost's heart melt, ever so slightly.

It's a slow progression, the way Soap draws Ghost into his orbit. Ghost doesn't even fully realize its happened until Las Almas. There was a moment when he thought he lost Johnny- when did Soap become Johnny? They had gotten separated and Ghost waited for him. Ghost never waited. But he couldn't, in that moment, hiding out in a church with a whole militia after him, even fathom leaving Johnny behind.

By the time Simon realized he loved Johnny it was too late. Johnny was married. Simon hadn't noticed that when he read Soap's dossier years ago. It must have happened in the time they had known each other. Simon had never pinned Johnny as someone to keep his cards so close to his chest like that, but he was proved wrong.

Johnny didn't wear his ring in the field. It was a liability, not just to have jewelry on in life-or-death situations, but also for anyone to see he was married, be it friend or foe. He didn't find out until after Chicago. It seemed that Soap's near-death experience at the top of a skyscraper had shaken him more than he'd let on. He'd snuck off at the bar to use the payphone and Ghost had followed.

"Hey, its me... Just needed to hear your voice, bonnie... No, no, I'm alright, just a wee bit banged up... Yeah, I miss you too, lovie... No I promise I'm alright. Just got a bit worried the whole 'til death do us part' thing was comin' sooner than expected... Sorry, bonnie... No, no, you're right, it's not funny. I'm sorry... I'll be home in a few days... Yeah... I'll see you then. I love you."

Simon hated you. He hated you and he didn't even know you. He didn't even know you existed and he hated you. Who were you? Some civilian? Some random woman who decided to shack up with Johnny? Probably just chasing valor or benefits or something. What could you possibly have to offer someone like Johnny? You could never understand him the way Simon does. Their bond is forged in fire and blood. You could never hope to understand it. They'd been through hell together. And yet you've wormed your way in between them. You, a woman he doesn't even know, have ruined everything. But Simon, ever the stoic sentinel, keeps it all under wraps with practiced patience. He didn't survive this long by letting his emotions control him. He'll figure out a way to fix this.

Then several months later, Simon meets you. It's after another mission, and you're picking up Soap from base, who had gotten a mild concussion and couldn't drive himself. You're there, waiting for him with a lovesick smile on your face. Simon watches as you embrace Johnny, wrapping him in your arms and holding him for a long time. Too long, in Simon's opinion. And then you pull back and hold Soap's head in your hands, turning his face side to side to get a better look at him. You laugh at something he says. Simon sneers. Oh, aren't you just perfect? A sweet little doting wife?

And then Johnny brings you over to introduce you two. You shake Simon's hand with both of yours, gratitude broadcast to the world as you thank him for getting your Johnny home safe. Your Johnny. Simon hates it. He hates how sincere you are. He wishes you were something worse, something worth hating. But Ghost reads people. He's great at it. But he can't read anything but genuine in you. And it makes him hate you more.

It isn't fair, Simon thinks. You don't deserve someone like Johnny. You haven't earned him. You haven't fought for him like Simon has. You haven't fought alongside him like Simon has. Simon has suffered. His whole life has been nothing but blood and fire. Doesn't he deserve something good for once? Hasn't he earned it? Even the devil himself got to taste heaven before he fell to earth.

That's what he tells himself on that night. The night they were stuck in that frozen safe house in the middle of Bumfuck, Russia. They'd narrowly escaped the enemy, and they didn't dare poke their heads out for risk of being spotted. Soap's radio had broken in the escape. Ghost was the only one with a means to communicate with Watcher. She tells him exfil will be there in the morning. He unplugs his radio. He tells Soap he can't get through. He tells himself that he's justified. He's a devil seeking a taste of heaven.

And what is Johnny if not heaven? Simon needs him. He needs to taste him. Johnny is worried. Simon can feel it rolling off him in waves. Simon can make it all better for him. Just for tonight.

"Who knows when exfil's gonna get here?" He asks. "What do we have to lose? It's just for tonight. Just let me take care of you, Johnny."

Simon can feel the hesitation in Johnny's body when he kisses him. But Johnny let's Simon lay him down. Simon whispers words into Johnny's ear. Not quite words of reassurance. But Simon Riley is a bad man, and a lonely man, and those two things make a nasty combination.

Simon tastes every part of Johnny's body he can get his mouth on. Neither man has bathed in days, and a lesser man would be disgusted, but Simon has experienced far worse. Besides, nothing about Johnny could ever disgust him.

And when Johnny let's him inside, Simon, that devil, finally tastes his slice of heaven. A whole life of suffering was worth is just to feel Johnny beneath him. It's perfect, he thinks. Even if only for the night. Simon looks Johnny in the eye. Simon stays with him afterward. Simon sleeps beside him.

Then morning comes. Exfil comes. Regret comes for Johnny, but not for Simon. Maybe he shouldn't had lied about his radio, but it was worth it, wasn't it? But now Johnny won't look at him. He won't speak to him. He practically runs from him when they land.

No, no, no. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. This was supposed to fix things! It was supposed to fix what you had ruined! You, Soap's perfect wife with your perfect life, perfectly ruining Simon's. Johnny was supposed to see that he needed Simon more. Johnny was supposed to see that he needed Simon as much as Simon needed him. What happened? What went wrong? Simon blames you. He always blames you.

Simon calls Johnny late that night, after he's sure you must be in bed. He pleads with Johnny to come to his senses. It wasn't a mistake! How could he say that? How could he say that it was wrong when Simon had never felt so right in his whole life? It's your fault. You've got Johnny trapped under some kind of spell. You can't love him like Simon could, like Simon does. Simon changes tactics.

"You have to tell her," Simon tells him. Maybe if you know, you'll leave. Then Simon can have Johnny all to himself, without you getting in the way again. "The guilt will eat you up, it's better if you just tell her. Its the right thing to do." Johnny reluctantly agrees.

Simon waits for Johnny to call him the next night, to tell him you've kicked him out. He waits for the call so he can swoop in and be Johnny's rescuer. Maybe then Johnny will see how much he loves him. But Johnny never calls. Simon would be tearing his hair out with anxiety if it wasn't so close-cropped to his head. What's happened to him? He hasn't lost control of his emotions like this in years. What have you done to him?

Simon drives to Johnny's house. He watches from the curb through your window. Johnny's alone. Good. He has half a mind to walk up to the door when he sees you come around the corner. He watches you two talk. He watches you cry. Crocodile tears, they must be! Poor you, having your perfect life be derailed. Simon was justified. It's only fair that you suffer even a fraction that he has so he can take some of your perfect life for his own.

But then Johnny is holding you. Johnny is kissing you. No, no this isn't right! You should be screaming at him to leave! You should be beating Soap to a pulp so Simon can put him back together! Why won't you let him have this?

He watches Johnny carry you away. He forces himself to drive away before he does something he'll regret. He speeds the whole way home. He turns his apartment upside-down. In the back of his mind he's thankful he lives in a shit part of town where no one calls the cops unless someone is actually dead. No noise complaints as he shatters every mirror.

It's your fault he's losing control. You you would just let him have Johnny, it would all be fine. But you, you selfish bitch, want to keep Johnny all to yourself. Why? Because you've got a ring? Because you made a vow? Well, Simon makes a vow to himself. No matter how long it takes, he will make Johnny his.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley angst #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish angst

310 notes · View notes

normal-thoughts-official · 1 month

Text

here is the thing

when i started playing bg3, i didn't expect wyll to be so devoted to karlach. her devotion to him is a given; the guy risked his life to save her when they had literally just met. of course he matters so much to her

but wyll matched that same devotion right back, as if she had been the one to save him, even though karlach never really got the chance to do anything of that magnitude back for him

but then i think about it

mizora's punishment plays directly into wyll's worst trauma. to be suddenly branded as demonic, so people will always look at him and see that first. like his father did. like the whole city, everyone who ever knew him, did. no amount of good deeds will ever be enough to compensate for his association with evil; his soul will burn in hell and he will not be welcome anywhere because he's a greedy warlock who made his choice. i don't know if that is actually true, but he certainly thinks it to be, if anything, from his assumption that the people of the grove (whose lives he had just saved, and who had known him for at least a few days as nothing but a kind hero who looked out for them) would be unable to look past his appearance and wouldn't want him near them

and mind, mizora clearly wants wyll to stay isolated. why else would she forbid him from explaining the circumstances of his pact? what could she possibly gain from that, other than making sure he can never dispel the notion that he made a deal with the devil simply for power?

so it makes sense that that, more even than the non-consensual body modification, was the punishment. to put his warlock status on display, so that people would immediately be offput by him - and even if they aren't, he will be sure they are

his own father couldn't stand to look at him, and that was back when he had just lost an eye

but the first thing karlach tells him is this:

"Thank you for seeing me for who I really am. And... I think I can see you for who you really are, too. A hero"

obviously, it's common sense for her to see him like this after he just saved her life at great, and at the time unknown, personal cost. but it would also have been common sense for his father to know that the son he himself raised and who's nothing if not a paragon of kindness and duty wouldn't just decide to sell his soul for power out of the blue one fine day. or that, if he keeps trying to say something but can't, then there might be more to the story. for fuck's sake, he lost an eye. and yet, ulder didn't. wyll's association with the demonic was enough to dispel everything about his personhood, his values, and his actions. and now said association was branded, quite literally, on his forehead

and karlach's suffered so much at the hands of devils. just like with the other tieflings, he expects her to be unsettled by him, at the very least

but then she says that she looks at him and sees only a hero. the man who saved her. the man who cared enough to listen and do what was right. the man who sacrificed something for her, who had to make a choice no one should have to make

he had saved an entire city when he first made the pact, and yet not one soul in it was able to see that. see him

but karlach did

karlach does

and not only that. not only is she the first person in perhaps his whole life to put more weight to wyll's personhood and actions than to mizora's; but she knew he needed to hear that. she says it like someone who's trying to offer a comfort in a hopeless situation, which is exactly what she's doing. she knows that he is afraid of being rejected

and of course she does

she is the one who comes closest to fully understanding him.

can you imagine being wyll and seeing karlach's story play out in dizzyingly rapid succession in your mind? had a pretty good, happy life, then in the span of one day everything changed when she was associated with the demonic. she lost everything and everyone she ever had. from then on, she only knew one thing: to fight. no rest and no friends and no breaks, just endless, senseless fighting. her body was changed against her will. she hadn't been touched in a positive way in ten years. even fucking mizora was there

that's his story, too

sure, he might not have been literally unable to touch people, but neither was karlach when she was in hell. he's been completely alone except for mizora for the last seven years, at least in the ways that matter. nothing in his life was constant, except for the fighting and the humiliation at a devil's hand. and the loneliness

of course he thinks it's a trick. it hits too close to home

and of course he can't help but listen anyway. because wyll is nothing if not compassionate, and he's just watched a tldr of his own pain inflicted on someone else

so when karlach says that she still sees him as himself first?

he is reminded that she gets it

for the first time in seven years, he is not alone, and he is understood

of course he would do anything to keep her in his life, just as she would

in a way, she did save him, too.

(slightly late meta submission for @thekindredcollective's wyllstravaganza2024, day 19: bond)

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyllstravaganza2024 #wyll ravengard #karlach cliffgate #wyllach #although it's still true from a platonic perspective honestly. that's one of the things i love about them #whether you see it as romantic or platonic changes nothing #meta #overflowing trashcan

180 notes · View notes

absolute-flaming-trash · 9 months

Text

Been a hot minute, my friends, and I'm sorry for that.

This is something that has been sitting in my drafts for a bit and with how long it's been taking me to get other work out, I figured why not even if I'm not fully pleased with it.

I hope you enjoy regardless 💛

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 910

Warnings: Yandere, Kidnapping, Forced relationship, Murder (mentioned)

Please be nice, I don't write for this man often

“May I ask you something?”

It was a simple question, but one you regretted the moment it left your lips because of how it silenced the room.

Gone was the soft scratching of pen against paper as Chrollo looked toward your seated position, his expression thankfully that of neutrality mixed with a hint of slight intrigue.

You swallowed and looked down at your lap. Better than annoyance, you supposed.

“I just… I can’t stop thinking about it, and I have to ask...” Your fingers picked at the frayed ends of the couch while your graze returned to his. “Why me?”

He arched a brow, amusement creeping into his eyes. “Why you?”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Yes.” You replied with a little more conviction in your own tone this time. “Surely keeping one person alive when the rest were doomed to die is more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Are you saying that you would’ve preferred to have shared the same fate as the rest of your fellow party go-ers?”

Your cringe followed by a beat of silence was more than enough of an answer, but you felt obligated to continue since you were the one who started this conversation in the first place.

“...No.” Your teeth found your bottom lip while you tried to gather your thoughts in a way you hoped would make sense, all while pushing the memory of the fundraiser-turned-bloodbath out of your mind. “I’m saying I don’t understand.”

Chrollo leaned back in his own seat, still looking directly at you. “You’re here to keep the police from doing anything foolish.”

“I know that!” The frustration in your chest made itself known. “But you could have taken anybody. One of the sponsors of the damn thing, or even some other random woman, yet you kept me alive. I want to know your reasoning for it.”

He didn’t seem upset by your outburst, if anything it just served to increase his growing interest in the conversation.

Likely because these were the most words you had ever spoken to him at a given time.

Bastard.

“I liked you.”

Such a simple answer, and one you did not expect from someone who typically played their cards so close to the chest. It threw you off whatever balance you mentally had, and you recovered with a scoff.

“You liked me?”

“Yes.”

A twitch went through your eye when he didn’t expand on that - the sound of pen on paper filling up the room once more. You refused to let the conversation die there.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was a lie, but one you were willing to risk if it meant bringing the topic back to life, and boy did it work.

Not only did he stop writing, he set the pen down on the desk in front of him and turned his whole body to face you. “Oh?”

Shit.

“I mean, I don’t know how you could decide using something like that in a situation that was such a spur of the moment.”

“What makes you think any of what I do is ‘spur of the moment’?”

That made you pause. He had a point there. In the short time that you knew him, he had proved himself to be anything but impulsive…

Your temples throbbed with a quickly encroaching headache.

“If it wasn’t, then what? Your choice was made before the bloodshed started?”

The words were spoken sarcastically, but you had no idea just how right you were until you saw his expression change from amused neutrality to one of…

Come to think of it, you had no idea what to call the look on his face. Admiration came closest to mind, but that didn’t feel right.

“You catch on fast, well done.”

You made a face, not a fan of the condescending tone. “So, what? If I’m not sacrificed to the cops in a hail of bullets, you’re going to keep me as some kind of pet?”

Amusement crept back onto his face. “Is that what you think?”

“If it is, I hope you know I’ll fight that with every fiber in my being.”

He hummed lowly, your promise of violence completely brushed to the side. “As intriguing as the notion is, I have no intention of doing such a thing to you.”

“Then what do you intend to do?”

A small smile appeared on his face, but he didn’t answer, allowing you a moment to draw your own conclusions.

When you did, you frowned.

“Not a chance.”

“Why?”

You gave him an indignant look. “You can’t seriously expect me to willingly be with you after everything that has happened.”

“I don’t, hence your current circumstances.”

Silence filled the air again after that. A nice reminder that whatever outcome you could’ve hoped for during this exchange, you were doomed to lose regardless.

All you could do was shake your head in malcontent and pick at the frayed ends of the couch again, unable to come up with anything further to say.

More amusement flickered across his face. “You do not wish to be my pet, nor to be my lover.” He sat back ever so slightly in his chair. “Tell me then, what do you wish to be?”

“Free.” You replied without a sliver of hesitation, locking eyes again with him once more. “But we both know that will never happen, will it?”

Chrollo threatened to genuinely smile at your answer and he shook his head once.

“No. It won’t.”

#riri writes #Chrollo x Reader #Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader #tw yandere #tw kidnapping #tw murder #tw forced relationship #Chrollo #Chrollo Lucilfer #HxH #Hunter x Hunter #Reason I'm not a fan of this is I think I made him too talkative here #but c'est la vie

610 notes · View notes

burst-of-iridescent · 2 months

Note

I hate when people say(*writers*) when zuko is an emo bad boy. When zuko acts "emo" and "badboy" as they say it's him reacting to his trauma and abuse as a kid(most of time. Zuko is still badass. But badboy no). Is it an excuse? No. But when zuko is acting that way in canon, his obsession with honor, his yelling, his moodiness, his short temper. That is the product of having his empathy literally beaten/burned out of him by his father(and mocked and emotionally abused by Azula). The reason Zuko is doing this whole thing is because he wants to please his father. Become someone he's not. His struggle of who his father wants to be with who he is. It's because of the abuse of his father and his family. As the series goes on you get more and more flashes of the person Zuko was and the person he can become. By the end of the series it's such a great contrast and Zuko is much more happier because he's with the gaang. His family. He got out of that abusive situation he was in and finally became himself. A dorky, empathetic, caring, skilled swords men, a balanced person. Does he still have moments of anger? Yes. But over all Zuko becomes a fully balanced person.

gasp! but if we don't call zuko a bad boy, however will we make sure people don't get any ideas about shipping him with katara?

jokes aside, you're absolutely right and i roll my eyes so hard when people point to bad things zuko did, or his behaviour pre-redemption as indisputable proof of the kind of person he'd be post-redemption. like you said, a lot of zuko's actions and mannerisms before day of black sun is a direct result of the trauma he suffered, and though that doesn't excuse him - and neither does the show allow it to - discounting it entirely is to erase the abuse zuko endured and how that shaped him.

using the first half of book 3 as evidence of zuko being a supposed bad boy irks me in particular because a) the narrative makes it pretty clear that this is zuko as the worst version of himself, the opposite of everything he actually is and could be, and b) he is stuck in an abusive household at the mercy of his abusers, in an actively life-threatening situation.

zuko knows that he is in a situation where he has no real agency, freedom or control. he knows that aang is alive, that azula has turned him into a scapegoat and that his life will be forfeit if his father finds out the truth. that is an incredibly terrifying and stressful situation to be put in and it's worsened by the fact that he can't even admit it - not just because doing so would mean accepting that he gave up everything that actually mattered in the catacombs to gain nothing in return, but also because no one around him will allow him to do so.

his girlfriend can't understand his experiences or his turmoil and doesn't seem to particularly want to, brushing off his anxieties and encouraging him to stay the course. he is manipulated by his father and gaslighted by his sister, aware deep down that he is entirely under their control and that they have a vested interest in keeping him helpless, yet forced to pretend as though nothing is wrong. he is isolated from the one person who could help - his uncle - physically and emotionally, both because visiting iroh puts zuko in danger, and because zuko's choices have created a rift in their relationship.

all of this compounds the psychological stress zuko is experiencing, forcing him into a constant state of fight-or-flight, and this context is vital to understanding many of the decisions he makes and how he behaves in the first half of book 3.

(this is why i don't agree with the take that hiring combustion man is an ooc moment for zuko because even though i think the idea of combustion man himself is stupid - not to mention disrespectful to the hindu origins it's pulling from - it's a fundamentally desperate move, and zuko at this point is more desperate than he's ever been.)

that's why it's unlikely that zuko post-redemption would behave similarly since many of the factors that contributed to his anger, hostility and moodiness would no longer exist! judging zuko's future behaviour based on a time when he was constantly abused, gaslighted and threatened is just not an accurate or fair means of measurement, especially since we know what he's like at his best. the zuko we see with the gaang still has a bit of a short fuse, sure, but he's also sincere, honest, awkward, shy and far happier than he's ever been. because shocker, people tend not to act the same way in healthy, supportive environments as they do in abusive, traumatic ones. who would've thought?

people who make this argument also usually tend to compare zuko to aang, especially to glorify how aang remains cheerful and peaceful despite his trauma, and... no. just no. first of all, the show barely gives a fuck about developing aang's trauma the way it does zuko's so of course it seems to affect him less, and secondly, there's something to be said about how trauma responses like aang's are a lot more palatable and comfortable for audiences than responses like zuko's, or even katara's in the southern raiders.

anger or moodiness, or wanting to punish the people who hurt you, are not inherently wrong ways to react when you've been wronged and traumatized. praising aang for remaining cheerful and forgiving while calling zuko a bad boy for being angry and moody implies a sense of moral superiority that comes with reacting to trauma in the "right" way, which is both inaccurate and insensitive.

zuko will never be aang, and that's fine. he doesn't have to be. he ends the show reclaiming everything his abusers tried to take from him, having found himself and his destiny, in a place of healing that is all his own. that is an incredibly meaningful and powerful narrative, and the last thing zuko deserves is to have all of his complexity and development stripped just to be reduced to the tired trope of a "bad boy" when he was never one in the first place.

#zuko #zuko meta #pro zuko #atla critical #bryke critical #zutara

178 notes · View notes

llamagoddessofficial · 10 months

Text

@mothiepixie's art has dragged me kicking & screaming back into my Death God Sans obsession

so here's a concept I've been rolling around in my head for an updated scaryboy...

---

He was cloaked, head to toe, in black. Sweeping robes, black as the night, that seemed to draw in any light around them. Though delicate chains of silver decorated his shoulders and waistline, he had nowhere near the degree of finery one would expect from such an ancient and powerful being.

... He looked over his shoulder at your approach. His face was veiled. The veil itself was beautiful, as black as his cloak, the edges embroidered with fine thread that caught the light like stars. No one had ever survived glimpsing beneath that veil. Legends told of curious Gods peering when they should not- being driven mad instantly upon seeing the face of Death.

Immortals simply were not made to comprehend their existence coming to an end.

“... what a pleasant surprise.” He mused. “hello, little goddess.”

“S-Sans.” You couldn’t look at him long. “I-I... want to talk...”

... A sigh escaped him. He turned to you, fully, a great figure of black ash and silence. When he spoke, he sounded... regretful.

“of course you do.”

“I-it’s... it’s my friend. A nymph. She’s...”

He spoke gently. “i know what you're going to ask, so please do not ask me. i don’t want to have to refuse you.”

You didn't know why Sans had a soft spot for you. Other Gods and Goddesses had attempted to befriend him, attempted to gain his favour. They were always rebuffed- sometimes aggressively. You were the only one whose friendliness he ever reciprocated.

“She’s going to die." You almost choked on your words. "There... there must be something you can do, I...”

“i can’t.” His words carried the finality of someone who had been asked this question more times than he could count. “if i make one exception, the world will know. and then i’ll have to make a hundred more.”

The hope was draining from you. This is what you had feared most. “I-I won’t tell anyone. I... Please.”

“there are rules i have never bent.” He said, softly. “i cannot start now.”

...

You looked away. Though you knew you had no right to, considering he was only doing what he'd been made to do, you still felt hurt. “... I suppose you’ve had this conversation many times.”

A pause.

“... yes.”

“After a while it must get amusing.”

The veil shifted, slightly.

“i know you did not mean that.”

... You immediately felt regret biting at the back of your tongue. Of course he wouldn't be amused, what a horrible thing for you to say. He didn't choose this existence- and he certainly didn't choose to have his heart hardened by centuries of desperate people clawing at the bottom of his robes.

“... I’m sorry." You said, small. "I shouldn’t have come.”

...

“wait.”

In an instant, Sans was far closer to you, close enough that you could reach out and trace your hands across his robes. Great black wings, each taller than you, circled you; the veil fluttered for a moment, you thought you saw something glint beneath them that definitely wasn’t the light glancing off the fine silver embroidery.

“... there is a way.”

You stopped, heart jumping in a mixture of hope, and apprehension at his proximity. His aura was overpowering. “There is?”

“making exceptions for the way my soul turns would not be acceptable." His head tilted. "however... making exceptions for kin...”

You wished you could see his face. Anything to clue you as to you what was going on. “... Kin?”

“your friend would be my kin, if you were my wife.”

...

Your jumping heart stopped in your chest.

“... Your... wife.”

“it would be in name only. i cannot give you children. and... i would understand if you sought intimacy elsewhere.”

You felt yourself tearing up. You didn’t understand. “But... what’s the point, then? Why would you want me as a wife, if you know I won’t give you affection or children?”

“do we have a deal?”

...

What other choice did you have? He could probably see it written all over your face.

“close your eyes.” He said, softly.

... You did.

You heard nothing. But you felt something draw close, you felt that overwhelming aura intensity, a power that drifted across your skin like spiderwebs... it smelled like obsidian, in your mind’s eye it was the deepest shade of midnight.

A hand on the small of your back.

“do not open them.” His voice was so near. So near you felt it in your chest and throat.

... So near, that when you heard the sound of thin fabric being lifted, you could almost count the threads.

Breath against your cheeks. Instinctively, your hands came up, catching in his silken robes. Your frozen heart started pounding all over again.

... Pressure, on your lips. Gentle, warm, much warmer than you expected. The barest, softest touch... but it lingered long enough for you to sense that it was the touch of someone who was restraining themselves.

You didn't expect the kiss of Death to feel so loving.

As fast he had come, the warmth retreated from your lips, the hand retreated from your back. His cloak slipped out of your grip.

...

You opened your eyes. Sans was a few feet away from you.

... You didn’t need to be able to see his face to know he was smiling.

#llama writes #no ulterior motives here at all folks

485 notes · View notes

feralforfrank · 13 days

Text

part two-ish? of this.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X FEM!READER

cw idk cursing? NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

a/n like, two people asked for more, so ..... voilà.

masterlist | taglist

once you start dating simon, you gradually ease up on the mean nicknames and glaring. your stares aren't as mean as they were when he spilt that beer all over you, or when he took you to what was the possible worst date of your life just to piss you off (don't worry, he made up later).

he doesn't fully escape your wrath, though. he forgot to pick you up from the grocery store in the middle of january, when you had specifically asked him to keep an eye on his phone and wait for your call. he ended up falling asleep while half-watching a documentary and petting your cat.

you had to walk home, which wasn't that bad, considering you thankfully weren't carrying many bags, but you were still super angry with him. although, most of the anger dissipated when you saw him (barely fitting) dosed off on your tiny couch (how would you ever stay mad, he looked adorable), you did hit him in the head violently to wake him up. then purposely gave him the cold shoulder when he tried helping you organise the groceries, accidentally knocking the milk carton's sharp edges on his exposed bicep.

despite the rare occasions when he frustrates you, you're softer with him now. still have the same fire in your eyes and bitchy tone in your voice, but it's hardly ever directed at him.

soap is usually the target of your never-ending wrath. when he teases his lieutenant about how pussy-whipped he is, he gets a snarky comment back which makes kyle cough to hide his chuckles.

"oi, lass, sometimes i think ye donae like me a'all!"

"that's right, i don't!" you'll reply with such a serious tone, johnny has to pause, mouth hanging open.

you'll blankly stare at him for a few seconds and his gaze will flicker from your face to simon's, who's also staring at him unemotionallly, while his fingers play with the end of your dress. he doesn't speak for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you're really serious or not. kyle does his best not to burst out laughing, hiding his smile by drinking, and price just shakes his head and turns his attention to the tv.

the corner of your lip cracks a smile, and soap visibly relaxes. "ye canae do tha' t'me, bonnie. ye hurt me feelings!" he clutches his chest dramatically.

"then you better stop poking fun at my boyfriend, sergeant. or i'll beat you up."

soap raises his hands in surrender, and you feel said boyfriend, burying his nose in your hair and kissing the top of your head.

"my lovely savior."

what simon really liked about you, from your very first meeting, was your ability to yell at anyone (if they wronged you in a way) with no fear. just absolute rage.

there have been times men tried hitting on you, and with simon gone from your side for whatever reason, you have to put a stop to their advances alone.

some are understanding when you say you already have a boyfriend, others leave when you glare at them and call them dickheads for disrespecting a woman's choice, but then there are the annoying dumbfucks who just can't, for the life of them, take the hint.

"did your date ditch you?" you roll your eyes at his smug smirk. "i would never leave such a sexy lady alone, by the way."

you've had enough of the guy, for he hasn't stopped bothering you ever since simon stepped out of line to answer a work-related call. he's behind you, leaning in front to talk in your ear. you haven't even bothered turning around.

the place is crowded and you can't see simon from where you're standing. the lady, three people in front of you, is taking ages to order her movie snacks, and you really are starting to regret dragging him to the movies. you could've pirated it or something.

your leg is nervously tapping on the floor, a tight grip over simon's wallet, and pursed lips hiding gritted teeth. you're sure you look like happiness personified.

"you can sit with me and my friends, if you'd like. i'm sure they wouldn't mind a hot piece of arse such as yourself—" smack.

your slap is uncharacteristically loud and resonates in the room. heads turn, and the guy is frozen in his place, hand touching his burning cheek.

"would you shut the fuck up and take a fucking hint already?!" you try to control your voice, but the words come out as a shout. "for the last time, i have a fucking boyfriend. leave. me. alone."

before he can say anything, a familiar scent enters your nostrils. simon's hand wraps loosely around your shoulder. "what's goin' on 'ere?"

"this fucking pig won't leave me alone!" you take a step closer to the guy threateningly, but simon is quick to pull you back.

"i was just trying to make conversation, you bitch!" smack.

it all happens so fast, simon is barely able to grab you before you claw the guy's eyes out. his friends pull him outside as he throws curses at you, but you just give him the middle finger and allow simon to drag you up to the popcorn section.

"i leave you alone for one minute, lovie..." simon whispers to you.

you shrug. "he brought it upon himself. i was nice by not answering, but he called me a hot piece of arse! and i just had it up to here with him! unbelievable!"

"well, you are hot, and you have a nice arse." simon receives an elbow to the ribs.

"fuck off."

"c'mon, pretty girl, before you terrorise the rest of the cinema."

he finds your scrunched eybrows, flushed cheeks, and fiery gaze extremely hot. your height (compared to him) makes you storming out when angry, almost comical. adorable.

um....this got out of hand....idk.....

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #fluff #established relationship #frank writes

125 notes · View notes

anon-sect · 1 month

Text

Picture source: @its.my.shoez Instagram account

Tracey received a call from his supervisor to come straight to his office shortly after arriving at work. He began to wonder what his supervisor wanted so early in the day. He hoped it wasn't bad news. He really didn't need to hear that. He was having a bit of bad luck situations recently. He had been behind in his portion of the rent on the apartment, having his roommate to make up the difference. If that wasn't bad enough, his car was in the shop, having major repair work done to it. He had been forced to use Uber services to get to work. He didn't need any more bad news at the moment.

Tracey entered James, his supervisor's office. He motioned to have a seat.

"I called you in before you got started for a reason. There is no easy way to say what i have to tell you. Unfortunately, there were some budget cuts, and your position was one the company decided to cut effective immediately." James paused. "I am sorry to bring such sad news to you, but it's out of my hands."

Tracey definitely didn't want to hear that at a time like now. There had to be another solution. Honestly, if there was one, he would take it no matter what it was. "I understand that, but please, is there any other position that is open or available. I really can't take any more sad news right now." He pleaded to James, hoping there was something he could offer.

James had one other offer, but those who were released or fired would not take it due to the dangers it carried in accepting it. He decided to offer it anyway. "There is one opening available, but it carries a risk." He pulled out the contract and slid it over to Tracey.

Tracey looked over the paper and read it twice. There was a large bonus of $100k once done, but there was a risk. "So I get the $100k, and the other gets $50k once the year is up, right?" He asked, to be sure he understood right. He saw James nod yes to his question.

"But remember the risk you take. If the owner decides to forgo the $50k, you belong to him. There is no return." James paused. "You literally are placing your life in another's hands. You fully understand?" James reiterated.

Tracey needed something good. "Can I choose who owns me?" He asked back.

"Ordinarily, you really don't have a choice, but I will make this one exception since you really were a good employee. Just write in the name of who you want it to be and sign it. We will do the rest." James promised. He would at least do this one favor for a guy who was having a bad day. Tracey handed the paper back with his signature on it. He ran it through his copier and filed the original. He handed the copy back to him. "Take this to HR." He instructed him as he placed a call down to HR about the position.

Several hours later, Seth came into James' office. He motioned for Seth to have a seat. He slid over the shoe box to him. He watched as Seth opened it and was puzzled why he was receiving a new pair of sneakers. "We have been wanting to try out an experimental product, but no one ever took the offer. That was until your coworker Tracey signed up to do it." He spoke as he also showed the contract that Tracey had signed. "These sneakers are Tracey now. He is still alive, just that he is a pair of sneakers. He chose you to wear him for a year. The point of the experiment is to test the durability of our indestructible formula. All you have to do is treat him like normal footwear for a year. If you wish to conclude the formula test for both of you, he gets $100k bonus tax free, and you get $50k bonus check tax free." He added to his previous words. He waited for Seth to reply back.

Seth took out the shoes and examined them. It was hard to believe the sneakers he was holding were actually his best friend at work. He wondered why Tracey would even agree to this. "Why did he choose to be my sneakers?" He asked, feeling curious. Like, who would really choose to be another person's footwear?

"The company had cut his position in budget cuts. To stay on with the company, this was his only option." James reported honestly.

"So I wear him for a year and return him back, and he gets $100k bonus check and I get $50k bonus check, all tax free?" Seth wanted to be sure he understood right.

"Yes, that is your first option." James spoke.

Seth heard first option which meant there was a second option. "What's my second option since I have a first?" He asked wondering what it could be.

"Your second option is that after one year, if you decide to continue with the experiment for us, you get $100k bonus check tax free, but poor Tracey will have to spend another whole year supporting your feet. Every year that you continue, you receive a $100k bonus check tax-free, but that also means you subject Tracey to being your shoes." James paused to be fully serious. "Option two means you are in control of his humanity or return to human form. He specifically selected you to wear him. So I sense that he has some sort of trust in you to decide how long he will be supporting your feet." He finished.

Seth, like the thought of receiving a $100k bonus check. Yet, this was his best friend at work who he was about to wear on his feet for a year. To receive that bonus check every year would be awesome, yet that meant keeping his best friend as his footwear. Could he really do that to Tracey, he pondered.

"We will revisit your option in one year. Until then, enjoy wearing Tracey." James spoke.

Seth put the sneakers back in the box and left the supervisor's office. When he got back to his desk, he opened the box and whispered to his sneakers. "I have to say, $100k every year sounds so nice. Sorry Tracey, but I have to take option two. I hope you understand, but I promise to take good care of you as you take good care of my feet for a long time." He took off his current shoes and put on Tracey.

Tracey thought he knew his best friend well enough. He thought that he would only be sneakers for a year. He thought that Seth would not be tempted by the amount of money. He saw he was wrong. He saw the pair of socks on Seth's feet weren't exactly clean and had a slightly strong vinegar odor. It was pressed hard into his insole face. This was his existence, to live as sneakers for Seth for at least a year or possibly longer.

FIVE YEARS LATER.......

Seth enjoyed a rather smooth life. For the past five years, the job gave him a $100k bonus check for continuing to test their indestructible formula. He has used Tracey for every gym and workout session. He has worn him to work every day. He even tried cutting him with scissors. He did anything and everything to try to destroy his sneakers, yet he remained relatively unscathed. Not only that, Tracey was the most comfortable footwear he owned. He didn't exactly know how Tracey felt about being sneakers every year, but the money was coming in handy. He even wore him on vacations that he took each year. His life was great, thanks to Tracey choosing him instead of someone else. There were weeks where he wore the same pair of socks every day to thank Tracey for the money he wad receiving each year. Life truly was great with having a pair of indestructible sneakers.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #sneaker transformation

107 notes · View notes

seichira · 1 year

Text

even when i’m hard to love.

you can argue that one of the most painful kinds of love there is, is the kind that refuses to be received. loving sanzu haruchiyo has taught you what it is like to adore someone who doesn’t think he deserves the good things in the world.

pairing : haruchiyo sanzu x reader

content : angst with comfort. mutual pining. the usual gang shenanigans. mentions of violence. inappropriate language.

growing up, you were so sure that your life would go according to plan. you will go to school and study hard, get in a prestigious university, graduate with latin honors, get a stable career, meet someone whom you will settle down with, and probably have a family if the tides ever say it’s right.

in hindsight, it was a good plan. it was commendable, and it was understandable how strict they were considering how young you were back when you mapped them all out. it really was a good plan, and you couldn’t have known that not everything would go your way.

sure, things went well for the first few steps. you got good grades and outstanding extracurriculars enough that got you into a university, albeit not your first choice (c’mon, life isn’t that kind). so far, you are still in the running for honors and the connections and experience you have accumulated basically quite assures that you’d have a decent job once you graduate.

but your luck stops there, because you fell in love with sanzu haruchiyo who can’t seem to accept it.

he does to you all the things that a lover would do for their loved one, but he never admits it. he would tip his feet to test the waters but never fully dive in.

you know deep down that he feels the same way, but years into this frenzied relation with him, you’re not so sure anymore. more often than not, you spend your nights soaking your pillows with your tears of unrequited love only to dry them off the next morning. loving haruchiyo has pushed you to do the unimaginable, to modify your plans into something where he would fit—but that is much too difficult.

he is uncontainable. the man you are so ready to give your heart and soul to is so near, but so damn unreachable. you can’t grasp him, you can’t keep him all to yourself because he is running like sand away from your tightened fingers.

you have had to scratch off your dreams of settling down and building a family because the man you’re in love with is… a blur. haruchiyo is a blur.

“what have you been doing, haru?” you ask as you approach the front steps of your dorm’s building, where sanzu was sitting on one of the steps with his head hung low, only looking up at the sound of your familiar footsteps and your voice.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean…” worriedly, you walk nearer and kneel down to level with his face and expect the cuts on it.

your face contorts into your usual expression of worry, and he hates it. he wants to flip a table and break anything on sight just for you to stop doing that expression on him.

“quit it, y/n.” he turns his face away, but you grip his chin gently and he wasn’t necessarily protesting so it was easy to keep him in place for more inspection.

“where did you get these wounds and bruises from, huh? i thought you were at home. did you get yourself into trouble again? do they hurt, haru?”

he glares at you, defensive now that you pointed out his face. he thinks he was stupid to hope that you won’t notice them or make a big deal out of them.

“just got into some stupid fight with frat boys who think they’re the shit. they’re not. you should see how they look. all black-eyed, passed out and shit.”

“them having it worse than you doesn’t make it any better.” you shake your head in disapproval, but you know better than to tell him off for doing what makes him feel alive. for now, you focus on patching him up.

he grins unseriously, “it makes it better.”

you choose to zip your mouth and no longer try to contest him to lessen the risk of having him run away again. “alright, then. i ran out of cotton swabs and antiseptics so i have to bring you to the clinic.”

the way he shoves your hand away from him does not even hurt you physically. the pain shot straight all the way to your chest where you felt it all. the pain of the rejection from him, and him alone.

“h-haru, i…” your voice trembles but you try to keep it all together. “i have to bring you there. i don’t want to leave your wounds overnight without doing anything. you need stitches. p-please. it’ll be quick. if i have to, if the nurse would let me, i would do it myself.”

he hates his scars and that is something you never fail to remember. as much as possible, you treat him fast to alleviate any pain and also… to prevent more scars that would haunt him. but if it’s just your opinion that matters, the scars he has are beautiful and you want to bury them with enough kisses to make him forget how he got them.

“let’s go, please. h-haru.”

meanwhile, you don’t notice the way sanzu shuts his eyes tightly in pure guilt at how you struggle to simply get him on board for his own sake.

“fuckin’ let it go.”

there he goes again, doing what he is best at. pushing you away and asking you not to care when it is obviously too late for that. acting like he’s too good for the love you gladly offer him.

you scoff at his attitude and stand up, leaving him sitting alone on the steps. “how could i let it go? you’re sitting in front of my building all hurt and bruised up and you think i won’t fuss over it?”

all you want to do it touch him. trace your fingertips over the red and purple marks on his face in hopes that the love you have all over you would ease the pain he carries around. hide him in your pockets so no one could ever dare lay a hand on him again.

it’s all so simple. you only wish for so little. is that all too much to ask for? to love him properly?

he looks up to shoot a sharp glare at you. “yeah! exactly! ‘cuz i only wanted some company who doesn’t act my goddamn mother!”

you don’t know it, and even he doesn’t know it, but he was lying. he went here because seeing you is his only comfort, but he doesn’t know that so he has no way of saying it. he went here because he knew exactly how you would react and he’s addicted to how it feels being cared for by you. but again, he doesn’t realize that. he acts on autopilot.

“your mother? really?” you almost spit in offense. even if he either meant it literally or in a sense that cages him, it’s both hurtful. his mother left him the way you never did, and you never meant to smother him to the point of suffocation.

“i don’t even know what you mean by that. i don’t think i want to know. but let me say this to you—if you hate it so much being taken care of, then maybe my company isn’t what you need. i will always worry about you and you want someone who doesn’t. it’s not me who you’re looking for. you don’t want me.“

he does.

god, he does.

but you don’t know it.

and he won’t say it.

he stands up to finally settle in front of you, and the way he towers over you still didn’t fail to dismantle the demons in your stomach despite the situation.

“why’d you care so much for me, hm?” he challenges you smugly, hiding the disdain he has for himself for always putting you in these situations. “come on, pretty girl. tell me why you do all this shit for me.”

a tear escapes your eye and it shakes him to the core. he is taken aback he almost forgot his lines, and for a moment when his mind went blank, he really did.

“why would you cry for someone like me?”

you stupidly and courageously meet his eye.

“don’t act like you don’t know. i have told you so many times before. i tell you all the time.”

of course, he knows that. he just wants to hear you say it again just in case he dies in his sleep tonight.

“i love you, haru. i am in love with you. that’s why. you don’t remember because you don’t want to accept it. tomorrow, you will forget that i love you. tomorrow, when you wake up, you will not know that i worry for you, night and day.”

“you’re fucking stupid,” he says. he means it. you’re stupid for daring to love someone like him. you’re stupid for setting yourself up for a huge heartbreak.

the agreement that follows doesn’t shock him.

“i know.”

sanzu haruchiyo knows about your plans. he knows all about your dreams. he knows about your dream of getting married at the beach right before the sun sets. he knows of your openness to the possibility of having children, or if not, raising corgis with your life partner. he knows, and he wants it to be with him.

but it is exactly because he knows about how passionate you are about those dreams that he cannot dare take them away from you.

he’s a criminal, a gang member, and most definitely not a husband material you could exchange vows with nor raise children with. he would make a terrible husband and a much more horrible father.

he loves you so much that he can’t risk having you compromise your plans just to fit into the shape that he is. he can’t do that to you. if he could, he would be the one to adjust but he doesn’t know how.

so, he pushes you away.

he doesn’t deserve you. his family never loved him enough, how could he ever think he could love somebody right? your love is too good, too pure, too unadulterated for his soul who has seen all the horrors of life that he could already die.

in haru’smind, you deserve to be someone who either has a phd, a jd, or an md. whatever else would work, as long as that someone has a reputable job and could provide you the life you always planned for, not someone who doesn’t even know what he would do the next day. you deserve to be with someone who knows how to raise kids or how to care for dogs, not someone who would scare any delicate being with his scars. you should be with someone that is not him—but you’re not making it any easier.

everytime you would whisper “i love you, haru” in his ears where only he could hear, snippets of a future flashes in his head. whenever you confess “i am in love with you, so much” so simply, futures of him standing on the sands of the beach, delivering his vows to you. receiving those three words from you makes him believe that he could live the life you want, because in truth, that is also what he want.

say i love you, and he will want to cross out all boxes in your bucket list with you. he wants to be a part of your plans. he wants to have your ring on his finger, your child in his arms, or your dogs on his lap. whatever the fuck you want, he wants it.

he just doesn’t think he should want it. he doesn’t think he has the right to be that selfish.

it was torturous, each step he made the night he walked away from you after you told him once again that you loved him, but he thought it was for the better because you would finally get over him.

as much as that would kill him, he would be comforted by the fact that you would be okay

on your graduation day, you complete another part of your plan, but it doesn’t feel as fulfilling you thought it would be. you think spending four grueling years in university and finishing with honors would somehow send you off in a high, but that is not the case.

you are surrounded by all the people who love you, but your eyes search for the only one who doesn’t.

your friends and family don’t understand why you love him as much as you do, but that is only because they don’t know what only you and sanzu know.

nobody else knows the midnights you stay awake due to your really bad craps and sanzu sneaking past the dormitory guard to bring you supplies.

they don’t understand because they weren’t there when sanzu ran barefoot in his panic to the alley you nervously called him to when you thought you were being followed by a sketchy guy.

no one else but sanzu was around when you got sick during finals week and couldn’t hold up on your own so he cooked your meals as best as he can, changed the wet towel on your forehead every thirty minutes, helped you dress up, reminded you of the things you tried hard to study, and dragged you to class.

your love cannot be understood by someone who didn’t see how sanzu held you when you cried over the death of the dog you grew up with and the little funeral he set up with only the two of you.

they cannot possibly make sense of the amount of affection you have for the man if they weren’t in the room where sanzu first mumbled some unclear words that sounded so closely to i love you with your name attached to it in his sleep.

you stop trying to make them understand why you want to get out of your graduation party to run to the person who wasn’t there.

as you stride towards the street where sanzu’s apartment is to come and see him on this special day, you see him as soon as you turned the corner. you were quick to spot him, but he saw you first.

with a good six meters between you, you stand staring at each other in the middle of the busy street. you look at the other’s eyes like there’s no one else around. the feeling of longing and the familiar fucking sensation of being in love with him for too long burns your throat, like flowers are growing out of your lungs but you find yourself addicted to them.

your haru also stands still to stare at you, who is all covered in a huge coat that buries your body, and the intention in your eyes gives away that you are there for him. he disappears for months and on your graduation day that he is so painfully aware of, you go to him? how stupid can you be?

why are you here? he left you so you could move on.

damn woman. you can’t move on like this. i can’t forget you like this. i can no longer let you go like this. i will want to keep you all to myself like this.

how many times does he have to push you away for you to give up on him? he has lost count already, and surely you had too. you are always on the receiving end of his rejections and yet you willingly find him wherever he is, to the ends of the earth?

he thinks he has never loved you as much as he loved you in that moment. and he thinks he will love you even more if you close the distance.

because you know he never will, you do it yourself. you take the first step to swallow the distance he so carefully placed at the expense of his own heart just to protect your future. you take the remaining steps that would make it impossible for the both of you to move on from the intensity of this love affair.

sanzu haruchiyo wants to kneel on the concrete and raise his hands in both worship and blame at the god who created you to love him as much as this.

when you stop in front of him, he is still frozen but his eyes are warm. he is slowly seeping in the warmth you have always been trying to share with him.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, but not coldly. he asks because he wants to make sure you’re real.

“i didn’t want this day to end without you. it doesn’t feel right, haru. i want you there. more than anyone.”

a pause. you can already predict what he’d ask next.

“why?”

you never get tired of answering that question.

no matter how many times he rejects you, you still believe he deserves to hear them. you always go back to him because you know he deserves the love you are trying to give him. you always seek him because you know him too much to give up.

“because i’m in love with you.”

he doesn’t laugh this time, he doesn’t roll his eyes, he doesn’t tell you you’re wrong, he doesn’t tell you that you’re stupid. he only closes his eyes and accepts your hands that cup his cheeks, bringing his hands on top of them along the process.

“you cannot say or do anything that could change it. you can curse me, push me away, and hide from me, or even not see me ever again… but i will always do.”

he sheds a tear at your words.

the next time he speaks, his voice breaks. probably at the weight of the words and of the confession he cradled in secret for years.

“i love you, y/n. so fucking much i can’t wrap my head around it. my heart… feels like it only beats for you to the point where it feels like a fuckin’ sin.”

he doesn’t let you interrupt.

“it’s so easy loving you. but you love me. that’s where it gets complicated, baby. it’s so hard, y/n. it’s hard loving me. my family told me so. my friends tell me so. everyone i meet tell me it’s so… damn… difficult to love someone like me.”

you shake your head and will him to open his eyes, and he does. you look straight into them, making sure he would see the truth you have always held for him in your pupils that could only see him.

“it’s not. it’s not hard, haru. i love you, i love you as natural as i breathe. i love you like how my heart beats and how my blood runs in my veins. it’s not hard. i do it all the time. i love you all the time.”

it is his turn to shake his head. you love him too much to even mind how complicated he really is.

you only make it look easy even when he is hard to love, but he’ll take it. in all his greed and selfishness, he’ll accept it this time.

he will spend the rest of his life filling your life with love, happiness, and adoration to atone for it.

for now, he’ll cherish the softness of your lips and etch into his memory how perfectly they fit with his at the very first time they touch.

#⏳ — lumi’s fics!#i’m back!#I AM SO PROUD OF THIS #pls give it some love!#tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fics #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers fluff #sanzu fics #sanzu angst #sanzu imagines #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers

1K notes · View notes

i-lost-my-heart-in-republic-city · 2 months

Text

Only villains are allowed to be complex in Netflix's Avatar: The Last Airbender

I had a major issue with the treatment of the original gaang in natla and I think it has to do with character flaws. As in, they don't have any.

In the case of Aang, other characters keep telling him that he can't ignore his responsibilities but when do we ever see him actually do this? When does he seek out distractions to avoid his duties, like penguin sledding, or riding elephant koi, or hiding in a cave? Hell, the reason he gets trapped in the iceberg is changed. In natla he was only going out on a short flight with Appa and gets caught in a storm. In the original he ran away, and it's understandable because he felt alone and out of control of his life. But it is still a choice he makes, to run away from his responsibilities, and he has to deal with the consequences.

In natla there is no choice to run away, it's fully an accident and it takes away his agency as a character. So when Bumi starts blaming him for the war it really rings hollow because it was all an accident. It has more weight when a random fisherman blames him in atla because at least in that version he did make a choice to runaway. Obviously he had no way of knowing what would happen and he never intended to abandon the world to genocide and war. But that's the thing about life, you never know the full consequences of your decisions, and you just have to deal with them when they happen. The war is not Aang's fault, but he did make a bad decision, and it had far reaching consequences. It made Aang's character more relatable and gave him a starting place from which he could grow as a character. He had to learn how to accept responsibility for his actions without blaming himself for the actions of other (i.e. Sozin starting the war).

I feel like in the case of Katara, they stripped her passion and anger. They explored Katara's PTSD but they take away how angry it made her. Anger is a totally normal response to trauma. While letting yourself be consumed by anger is obviously bad, anger can also be channeled into passion and energy to enact positive change. This was a big part of Katara's character in atla, learning how to control her righteous indignation and use it to fight for the rights of other. She has none of that anger here, so there is no character growth and no emotional connection to the character through that arc.

This especially falls flat in her 'feminist arc.' She fights with Pakku but there is no anger, no fire in her. In atla at the end of the fight, even though she was pinned down and had clearly lost, she was still going. She was almost feral. Even though she was worn out, her passion of fighting for what is right still fueled her. She would not give up. So I guess it's fitting natla's unpassionate Katara just falls down at the end of the fight. And they cut out the whole importance of the necklace, which serves as Pakku's realization on how his sexism has negatively impacted his own life. It's this realization that motivates him to reevaluate his beliefs and agree to train Katara. Which needs to happen because having a master's tutelage is what allows her to become a master herself. Alta makes it clear that she excels because of her hard work and determination along with guidance from a mentor. There's none of this in natla. They just start calling Katara a master because 'girlpower' I guess? They certainly don't show how she became so talented. But natla Katara doesn't need help from other people to grow. She's already a master. She's already perfect.

Sokka is also stripped of his flaws as well. Obviously we know he is not sexist in natla. I don't think this is inherently a bad change, but you have to understand how the sexism impacted his character in atla and adjust accordingly. In atla, Sokka's sexism is really the origin of his all his insecurities. He believes there are roles for men and roles for women. Protecting the tribe is a man's job. So when the men go off to fight in the war, he believes he must carry the burden of protecting the tribe as the oldest male. He sets himself up for failure because he places impossible standards on himself. He cannot protect and lead the tribe all by himself, especially not when he is a young child. This leads to him feeling inadequate because he cannot measure up to his own impossible standards or his idealized version of his father (who was an adult and had the support of his tribesmen).

I could still see a way to still adapt atla without the sexism. (For example Hakoda tells Sokka to look after his younger sister. He takes that to an extreme of being overprotective of the whole tribe. And we are back at him failing to met his own impossible expectations again). But natla doesn't do this. Instead it just throws in a flashback of Hakoda saying that Sokka isn't fit to be a warrior. This kind of defeats the purpose of Sokka's own internal conflict about not measuring up to his own unrealistic expectations. Now it's his father's expectation's he doesn't measure up to. This is not a bad story beat in and of itself. It works well with Zuko. But it's not Sokka's character conflict. In alta Sokka's insecurities, internal expectations, and sexism also cause him to lash out at others sometimes. He's not allowed to act so negatively in atla. So again there is no place for him to grow as a character, as he does not have these flaws.

Honestly it seems like they tired to removal all negative character traits from the main characters, which makes them feel more stiff and allows them no room for growth. I really wanted to like this adaptation. And I do think there are some changes they do really well. But those changes are related to the villains and they just drop the ball so hard with our main characters.

#avatar: the last airbender #atla #natla spoilers #natla #aang #katara #sokka

146 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for changing my (30 FtM) name?

I was born with a very angrogynous/masculine name. For the sake of this post we'll say it's Alex Andrew Lastname. I was bullied for it growing up and can often see on people's faces that they were expecting someone different when they see my name first. I never liked my name growing up because I didn't think I fit the vibe. I'm just not an "Alex". But honestly, if I ever fully pass, that could change.

I recognize I've hit the trans guy jackpot. I've seen quite a few trans men change their names to my birth name, first and middle. Logically, I'd never have to change it for safety or validation reasons.

I've been using a different name for years now. My partner of 10 years doesn't know me by another name and cringes when we have to use Alex for legal paperwork. This name has been public knowledge to everyone including my family for about 8 years. We'll say this new name is "Elijah" (it is not)

The problem arises when I bring up my final legal name choice to my mom.

"Why that? I would have never named you that. I don't think it suits you." I double down and explain I like the name and don't mind the religious connotation (we went to church but she's always appropriated eastern religions, I am not religious) Additionally, SHE should have been using it all this time, even when I'm not there. She complains. "Can't I still call you Alex? I mean, I gave birth to you, I should still be able to call you Alex. I gave you that name because it was androgynous and cool, why do you want to change it?" I tell her again, no. If she's the only person deadnaming me, other people will feel they have the right to. "Can I call you Al?" No, sorry. "Can I call you Andrew? I named you after your uncle, he didn't do anything wrong."

Because she's pushing back so much, I tell her the truth. Growing up, she was abusive and negligent. When she did use my name, she said it like she hated me. When I was in trouble, when she was disagreeing with me, when she bullied me. She didn't really say my name in rare situations where she was proud because she was jealous and focused on making sure everyone knew I was cool and "unique" because I was "her kid". Because of it, I cringe when I hear my birth name. It's a strong name, a good name, even, but it makes me feel small and tired. I told her I was proud of her going to therapy, that we could start over, but that I'm asking to be respected as a person.

Shortly after I was born, she asked my grandma to draw up a tattoo of my deadname. It's a large, dark piece on her entire lower back. I told her I don't expect her to cover it, that she can keep it and mourn the name however she feels, but I'd like to get a matching, small tattoo with her to celebrate my new name if she's interested. She didn't really respond. She finally said she still doesn't like the name Elijah, but asked if she could call me Eli (yeah, obviously)

Despite all of this reaching some sort of compromise, I've heard I've made a bad decision from both sides. Some think I was too gentle and understanding and should have essentially said "fuck you this is my name take it or leave it". Others think I should have kept my deadname because there was nothing wrong with it, I'm being too emotional about it, or that I'm choosing to inconvenience others by changing things age 30. There's also the idea that no one really likes their name so it's not a great reason to change it.

AITA for having no real reason to change my name and doing so anyway?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

145 notes · View notes

akookminsupporter · 1 year

Text

Namjoon gave a good interview to Vogue Spain and in it he said a few things that I thought I'd share with those of you who may not understand Spanish.

This was at the end of the article but I want to write it first:

One thing that needs to be made clear about this album is that, no matter how much the rumour mill is trying to spin it, it is by no means the end of the successful band. "Oh, I'm not leaving BTS. Absolutely not. This is the first time I'm launching a solo project like this, so I'm trying to stand up and take my first steps. But I'm ambitious and I have willpower. So I don't want to miss the opportunity to do both. So I will try my best not to lose control and steer these two ships at the same time. A lot of bands split up and fall apart, but I hope that doesn't happen to BTS. I just love the music, I love my job, I love the band members and I love myself. If I can keep both projects going, I think it can be something legendary in the long run".