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#it’s like that but i’d give anything to live like a character rather than a person
iridescentropy · 1 year
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how i long to live a life that is not my own.
i want a cottage by a river with a garden and a giant willow tree and i want to bake bread with my wife.
i want to be a teenager with a found family who tear through the streets at night and create and love and mess things up.
i want to wear knit sweaters and read too much in a library that smells like cigarettes and dust.
i want to do stupid things without consequences under bright city lights with people who won’t remember me by tomorrow.
i love it here. but i’d love it there too.
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halfvalid · 8 months
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pretty in that
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ABOUT
rating: general audiences
characters: live action!roronoa zoro | fem!reader | live action!monkey d. luffy | live action!nami
pairing: live action!roronoa zoro x fem!reader
word count: 4.2k
description: you have a hard time picking a dress for dinner whilst in kaya's mansion. zoro (sort of) helps!
tags: strawhat!reader, female reader, fluff, kissing, confessions, no use of "y/n", special straw hat appearances (nami & luffy), soft zoro
author's note: i'm a sucker for dress-up scenes so i KNEW i was gonna write smth like this once that ep3 scene started playing. reader chooses a dress at the end; dress is non-described so you can imagine your ideal dress!
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You were on Nami and Zoro’s side when it came to whatever was going on in Syrup Village. Kaya’s mansion made you feel vaguely unsettled, and stepping into the building made your heart pound quicker than you would like to admit. But if there was one thing that piqued your interest, it was the order of changing clothes for dinner. You’d been stuck in the same few outfits for weeks now, and the promise of something new—and formal—was nearly exciting, although you’d never admit it in front of Nami and her disapproving gaze. 
Kaya’s kindness combined with the private guest room and bath you were treated to helped soothe your nerves. Soon you found yourself being led to the giant closet the rest of the Straw Hats were already in—Nami was trying on various different pieces, and Zoro seemed to have something in hand too. 
“Ah, there you are!” Luffy said, swiveling on his heel and giving you a big grin as you entered the room. You stared in disbelief at all of the racks around you. Hell, there were even clothes hanging from the ceiling. 
“Well, we certainly have a lot of options,” you said, skimming a hand over a nearby rack. There were a variety of different fabrics, but they all felt expensive: silk and velvet, damasks and brocades. “I don’t even know where to start.” 
“I’m just trying on anything,” Nami called from where she was, before stepping out from the room divider she’d been changing behind. She wore an emerald dress with a plunging neckline, the patterned silk clinging to her curves, and did a little spin. “What do you think?” 
Luffy shrugged. Zoro wrinkled his nose, barely glancing up from the armchair he was lounging on. “I think it looks nice,” you offered, but Nami still seemed dissuaded. 
“Ugh, these two are impossible. What are you going to wear?” 
“Uh, I’m getting there,” you said with a little laugh. “It’s a bit overwhelming; I’d rather help you guys pick first. Luffy, have you found something yet?” You turned towards the man in the center of the room, who nodded enthusiastically. 
“Yeah, I found this!” He raised up a black waistcoat. You frowned at it. 
“Um, Luffy, waistcoats are supposed to be worn with a suit,” you said, then paused, seeing his blank look. “...Never mind.” 
“And I’m wearing black,” Zoro added, despite the piece of clothing slung along his lap definitely not being black. You exchanged a glance with Nami, who just rolled her eyes. They’re stupid, she mouthed, then returned to the rack she was glancing through. She worked quickly, pulling out various numbers that she scrutinized before either setting on the couch beside her or putting back. 
“Okay,” you said slowly. “Need me to find you some pants with that, Cap?” Nami and Zoro let out identical groans as you spoke the pet name, both turning to give you exasperated looks. You suppressed your laugh. 
“Stop calling him that,” Zoro said with a tired sigh. “You’re encouraging him.” 
“Kind of the point, yeah,” you said cheerfully. While Zoro and Nami were both still largely unconvinced about the whole pirate crew thing, you’d joined the bandwagon rather quickly. Zoro rolled his eyes, and you turned towards the racks to find Luffy some slacks. “Assumedly you need something other than that shirt too?” 
“I’ll look later,” Zoro said passively. You watched him out of your peripheral vision. He was outfitted in a patterned kimono, his three swords slung along his lap. He didn’t seem too interested in his surroundings, though what he was doing, you weren’t sure. You let him be, turning to page through the racks of clothes again. Finally you found a pair of slacks that seemed like they’d fit Luffy. 
“Here,” you said, passing them over to him. “And find some shoes while you’re at it.” 
“Why does she even have clothes that don’t fit her?” Zoro murmured, sounding as baffled as he could get. “What, she just casually has clothes in all four of our sizes hanging around?” 
“Rich people own things just to own them,” Nami called. She’d changed again; this dress had a halter neckline and was blush pink. Zoro motioned with a hand at it, and Nami frowned, glancing down at the dress. “You don’t like it?” 
“Eh,” Zoro said. Nami made a face. 
“At this point I think you’re hating just to hate.” She pulled up a few more options, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed them. Luffy was seemingly satisfied with what you’d given him, because he took the pieces off of their hangers and slung them over his shoulder. 
“I’m off,” he announced. “Gonna go change in my room and do some exploring before dinner. Have fun!” With that, he left, and Nami sighed, turning towards you. She held up her final two options—a red cheongsam with delicate gold embroidery and a pastel blue dress with an a-line skirt. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you studied the two.
“I think the blue one might wash you out a bit,” you said eventually; it’d clash with her hair no doubt, and make her skin look even paler. The shade wasn’t a right match with her eyes, either. “I like the cheongsam; I think you should go with that one. It contrasts nicely with your hair.” 
Nami raised up the dress again, inspecting it. “You’re right,” she said, ducking back behind the room divider to change. You started pursuing the racks again; Nami stepped out a few moments later, successfully outfitted in her new dress. “Okay, I’m going to go do my hair in my guest room. Good luck.” 
“Bye,” you called, watching as she left the room. You clicked your tongue, almost alone now and with absolutely zero options of clothing. As much as you liked the idea of new clothes, the abundance of options was starting to seem a little daunting. “Okay, now that Nami’s done, it’s my turn to play dress-up.” 
Zoro laughed from where he sat, and you startled, almost having forgotten he was there. He was watching you attentively, his attention having diverted from whatever it was he’d been thinking about earlier. “You like this kind of thing?” 
“Well, I mean.” You shrugged, peering at a few of the pieces on the rack in front of you. You pulled out a deep green dress, eyeing the lace by the neckline before setting it back. “It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” 
“Not really what I’m into.” 
“You wear jewelry, so clearly you have some fashionable instinct,” you pointed out, bending over to glance at the clothes hiding by your knees. These were all skirts or unreasonably short dresses, with so little fabric you were uncertain they would cover anything at all. “Unless the earrings are for another reason…?”
“Three swords, three earrings.” 
“Makes sense. What are you wearing with your shirt?” You glanced back to see Zoro’s answer, but he merely shrugged. “Do you want me to find you some trousers? A suit?” 
“You don’t need to find clothes for me. I can do that myself.” Still, Zoro made absolutely no move to do so. You rolled your eyes, but turned your attention back on what you’d be wearing for the dinner. Vaguely you wondered how Zoro would look wearing a suit. You flushed almost as soon as the thought popped into your head, shoving it into the very back of your skull and banishing it from seeing the light of day. 
“If you say so,” you said instead, mostly to distract yourself from the beyond inappropriate thoughts starting to run through your head. Honestly, you barely knew your crew mates—the four of you were close to tearing each other’s throats out before you ran into Buggy, after all. And the fact that Zoro was, well, conventionally attractive—and you tried to keep your thoughts on that and that alone, anything emotional was strictly out of the question—shouldn’t be something your mind lingered on. 
You picked out the first dress that looked to be your size. It was dark purple, backless with a tight trumpet skirt. Ducking behind the room divider Nami had used, you stripped off your clothes, donning the dress. There was a mirror along the other side of the divider, and you turned, trying to appraise the dress on your figure. The color didn’t look entirely right, and you were uneasy about the lack of mobility the skirt might have—Kaya’s staff were still extremely suspicious, after all, and you’d rather be safe than sorry. 
“Let me see,” Zoro called from outside. You tugged at the dress, suddenly nervous, but stepped out after you couldn’t find a good enough excuse not to. Zoro’s eyes ran up and down your figure, and you did a slow circle, showing off the dress. The bare skin of your back prickled. 
“You’re not going to be able to move in it,” he eventually said. 
You huffed out a breath, the nervous energy that had accumulated in your chest leaving with the action. Something in your belly stirred; disappointment, maybe, that Zoro had only commented on the practicality of the dress, not how you looked in it. But you pushed those thoughts away with an angry shove. Not the time, and definitely not the person to be thinking those sorts of things about. “Yeah, that’s what I was worried about. Let me find something else.” 
Zoro’s gaze didn’t flicker from your body as you started across the room, ducking between more racks to find something. “You dead-set on a dress?” 
“I haven’t worn a dress in a while,” you answered, picking out a red one before remembering Nami’s choice and setting it back. “Might as well take the opportunity.” The next one you pulled was blue, all shiny and soft. The material looked like some kind of tender silk. You set it aside to try on. “Why?” 
“Haven’t seen either you or Nami in a dress before.” 
“Actually, you have. I’m wearing one right now and Nami tried like five on earlier,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to shoot Zoro an unimpressed look. He scoffed, though there was a smile at the edges of his mouth as he turned his head away. Your next choice was soft pink, and made of tulle that vaguely resembled a puff pastry. You pulled it up. “Think I should try it?” 
“I mean, pick whatever,” Zoro said, though he seemed mildly disgusted by the amount of fabric the skirt had, all bunched up with layers like something a ballerina might wear. “What are you trying to achieve with the dress?” 
“What am I—I’m trying to look nice, Zoro,” you said, stifling your laughter. You set the pink dress back, replacing it with a sage green number instead. “Not everything has ulterior motives.” 
“You always look nice.” 
You froze, a soft chill curling around the back of your neck. Carefully, you straightened up from where’d you been bent over yet another rack of clothes, turning to look Zoro in the eye. His eyes hadn’t moved. “Oh,” you managed out, throat all dry and tongue like sandpaper in your mouth. “Well, thank you.” 
Zoro cleared his throat, a dull noise he made in the hollow of his throat without even parting his lips. His gaze flickered away. “Yeah. Go try those on.” 
Wordlessly, you stepped back behind the room divider and slipped on the blue dress. It had a texture like water—it was some kind of high-end silk, flexible enough that it was near liquid in movement. The dress itself fell to your ankles, and had a simple square neckline. You stepped outside, doing another slow twirl. “Better,” Zoro said. 
“Better how?” 
“You can probably run in it.” 
You twisted your lips, trying to suppress the urge to turn them down into a frown. “Okay. It’s not doing it for me.” You ducked back behind the divider to change yet again; the sage green one was satin, with long sleeves and a neckline you hadn’t anticipated would be that deep. 
Still, upon exiting the divider and turning for Zoro again, he didn’t have any worthwhile feedback. “It’s kind of plain,” he said eventually, not meeting your eyes. 
You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest; you had to almost resist stomping over to the racks to find something more, and spent another few minutes gathering dresses and trying them on. 
To your immense disappointment, each one garnered little to no reaction from Zoro. You even shoved on one of the tiny, too-little fabric dresses you’d disapproved of earlier, but all Zoro did was scan you from head to toe and say, rather flatly, “you’d get stabbed pretty easily in that.” 
Frustration bled into your nerves as you hid behind the divider again. You glared at yourself in the mirror—your skin had started flushing with how annoyed you were getting, which might’ve been funny had you not been so ticked off. Men, you thought, irritated. Was it really so hard to tell you that you looked pretty? 
He’s a bounty hunter, you had to remind yourself. He doesn’t care about this kind of thing. Besides, he was the last person you should be setting your sights on anyway. You tugged at the short dress, the hem just barely grazing the tops of your thighs. 
You heard footsteps approaching from outside the divider, suddenly too close as you snapped yourself out of the reverie of thoughts you’d been lost in. Zoro turned the corner, arm propped up against the divider edge as he peered in, brows furrowed. “You stopped coming out,” he said. He was still in his kimono, swords tossed over one shoulder. The shirt he had was, assumedly, left on the couch he’d finally stood up from. 
“I’m frustrated,” you told him blandly. His frown deepened. 
“Because of… clothing?” 
You suppressed the sigh that threatened to escape your lungs. “Never mind. I’m fresh out of ideas.” You pushed past Zoro, opting to stand in the center of the room as if analyzing it from a different view would magically give you more options. Zoro turned to stare, still looking perplexed. “With so many options, it’s hard to make up my mind, that’s all.” 
“Uh huh.” Zoro was still studying you. “Did I do something?” 
“What? No,” you said hastily. Too hastily. The words had ripped out of your throat like a hiccup, and you seriously needed to learn how to lie a bit better because now Zoro’s expression was even more confused. “No. Why would I be mad at you?” 
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.” 
“It’s nothing,” you insisted, turning away from Zoro to stare at some of the clothes hanging on the wall above his head. These were too high up to properly look at, and as you stepped back, you glanced through the dresses hanging off the arch of the ceiling. You perused them without too much interest, eyes glancing over the various colors and fabrics until— 
Zoro stepped next to you. “Hey,” he said, and you jolted, head snapping down to look at him. You let out a noise of irritation, then turned your focus back on the ceiling. 
Your gaze flickered through the racks until finally falling on one particular dress hanging by the mouth of the room. It was somewhat hidden, tucked in a little corner beside a few other pieces, but from your vantage point it seemed about your size. 
You took a step closer to it, surveying it with your neck craned. The material looked soft and comfortable but it still retained shape, and the color—even in the dim lighting of the closet—was one of your favorites. The undertone would suit your skin perfectly. And, well, you didn’t want to put all your bets on one dress you hadn’t even touched, but it was certainly promising. 
Zoro stepped past you, barely exerting any effort to reach up and bring the dress down from where it hung up high. “This one, right?” he asked, and you swallowed, some of the annoyances you had towards him dissolving as he extended the dress hanger towards you. You nodded wordlessly, taking it. You stood there for a second before Zoro gestured with his head towards the divider. “Go try it on.” 
You did so, retreating safely behind your wall and stepping out of the little dress. You surveyed the one Zoro had grabbed for you again, heart lodged in your throat. It really was beautiful, and exactly your style; now that you saw it up close, you could safely affirm it was your size too, but nervousness still pulsed through your veins at it. 
Carefully, you slipped it on, adjusting the fabric around your hips and fixing up the neckline to rest evenly on your skin.
Zoro spoke out from the rest of the room. “So why are you mad at me?” 
“I’m not—” you sighed, dropping your arms before returning to fiddle with the dress. “I’m not mad at you.” 
“Is it because I wasn’t being helpful with the clothes? Because I already said that’s not exactly my area of expertise—” 
“It’s not because of the clothes, Zoro,” you said sharply, cutting him off. Zoro clicked his tongue, the sound reverberating around the room and thudding in time with your heartbeat. You turned your attention back onto your reflection. “It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it.” 
‘I’m worrying about it,” Zoro deadpanned. You sighed, adjusting the dress one final time before arranging your hair and staring at yourself in the mirror. It fit you perfectly, emphasizing all the right places and hiding all the parts of your body you were more insecure about. “Changed yet?” 
“Yeah,” you said, voice limp. 
“Let me see.” 
You bit your lip, suddenly nervous about how he’d react. Knowing him, it’d be something like it’s okay or the color’s fine; perhaps can you even walk in that? or weird shape if he was feeling a little more critical. Still, you stepped out anyway, not meeting Zoro’s eyes as you spun for him, letting him look at the dress from all angles. When you’d finished posing you glanced up, eyes meeting him tentatively. 
“It’s…” Zoro cleared his throat, ripping his gaze away from the dress on your figure to flicker up to your face. His gaze dropped again nearly as fast, like he couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. “Uh.” 
“It’s what?” you prompted, turning to face the nearest mirror. Your lips twisted into a worried frown, turning to glance at the dress again. Was it really not as perfect as you’d thought originally? “Do you like it? It’s my favorite so far, I think, but if you don’t like it—” 
“You look pretty in that,” Zoro blurted, cutting your rambles off with the strident, too-loud sentence. You froze, eyes flickering to meet him in the mirror. Carefully, he glanced up at you, and you could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. 
“Oh.” 
Zoro coughed, averting his gaze as you slowly turned around to face him. You couldn’t see properly with the less-than-ideal lighting of the room, but his face seemed to have taken on a ruddier complexion. “I like it,” he said, words softer than they’d been before. “It’s the one.” 
There was a little rush of something through your veins, and you felt vaguely lightheaded. “Okay,” you barely managed to squeak out. “Thanks.” You stumbled back behind the divider, sucking in a deep breath and trying to regulate your breathing. God, this was actually shameful at this point. 
You composed yourself quickly, gathering all the dresses you’d tried on and abandoned to return to their proper places. Zoro was still watching you attentively, and you glanced over your shoulder at him. Sparks prickled along your skin as your eyes met. “What?” you asked. 
“You’re acting weird.” 
“Am not.” 
Zoro stood up, rolling back his shoulders and stretching his head from side to side. He glanced through the racks and, without even a minute’s hesitation, plucked a suit jacket and matching pants out from beside him. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”
“You’re just grabbing those without thinking about it?” you demanded, eager to change the subject. Zoro rolled his eyes.
“I picked them like fifteen minutes ago,” he said. “Just didn’t grab them until you were done your whole… thing. Now spill it. You’re all red again.” 
You swiveled towards the closest mirror, unable to suppress your gape as you saw that your skin had indeed turned a distinctive shade of scarlet, flushed undertones creeping their way up your skin. It was entirely recognizable even in the terrible lighting. Even your skin was treacherous, now. “Nothing,” you muttered, unable to meet Zoro’s eyes as you spit it out. “I was annoyed because you weren’t telling me what you thought of the dresses.” 
“I… did, though?” Zoro said, perplexed. You let out a grating sigh, cheeks flaring even hotter now that he was forcing you to confess the entire extent of your sins. 
“Yeah, like, practically,” you said, wrapping your arms defensively over your chest. “You’ll get stabbed in that so easily. You won’t be able to walk. I just wanted you to tell me that—” you cut yourself off with another groan. “Don’t make me say it.”
Zoro blinked. “I have no idea what you’re edging towards, so you’re going to have to say it.”
“I just wanted you to tell me I looked nice!” you finally burst out, turning so you wouldn’t have to look at Zoro’s face. God, you were going to have to quit the Straw Hats after this. It was so entirely stupid. 
“But—” There was a laugh in Zoro’s voice, and you glared down at the floor, all of your dignity having left you by this point. You had no shame left to feel anymore. “I said ‘you always look nice’. Doesn’t that insinuate—” 
“That’s not the point,” you said hotly, tone almost argumentative now. “I wanted you to think I looked pretty in a dress, Zoro.” 
Zoro didn’t respond for a moment, brows creasing and face taking on a baffled expression. “But why—” Zoro cut himself off, and you turned even redder, holding your breath as he finally connected the dots. A single word fell from his lips, like a soft breath of air as he spoke. “Oh.” 
“Oh,” you muttered under your breath, unable to stop the almost whining tone your voice took on. Zoro stepped closer to you, a hand wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to look up at him. 
“I said you looked pretty in this one.” 
“I know,” you insisted, still all red, “which is why I’m not totally mad at you, but—” 
“You looked pretty in all of them,” Zoro said. He didn’t look bashful, per se—you didn’t think Zoro could get shy—but his voice was low, all hoarse in a more tentative way rather than one of his grating remarks this time. “For the record.” 
Your breath caught. 
“This one’s my favorite, though,” Zoro muttered. And then he was leaning down to kiss you, the ghost of his lips just on the corner of your mouth. You gaped up at him in shock as he averted his gaze, staring at some spot about your head. “Was that—” he started, before clearing his throat and trying again with a little more of his dignity this time. “Was that okay?” 
“Yes,” you blurted fervently, and before you could fix up the moment with something more, well, suitable, your big mouth ruined it for you. “But I think we’re holding up dinner. You should get changed, and I still need to find shoes.” 
You bit your tongue immediately after the words had been said, but it was too late—Zoro coughed, turning away from you. You panicked, and now it was your turn to grab his arm and tug you towards him. “Wait!” 
Zoro glanced down at you, perplexed, and then you leaned up to kiss him square on the mouth. He stumbled back, surprised, but adjusted quickly, hand going to cradle the back of your neck and pressing you right to him before you finally broke apart. 
“You should steal it,” he started. You stared up at him in question. “The dress, I mean. You should steal it.” 
“When am I ever going to need to wear this again?” you asked, perplexed. Zoro shrugged, fingers tugging at the edge of the dress's neckline. 
“Dunno. Just take it. She probably won’t even notice.” 
“You’re adorable,” you teased; Zoro wrinkled his nose but didn’t complain, opting instead to move away and pick up the clothes he still hadn’t changed into. “Go change. See you at dinner.” 
“Yeah,” Zoro said, his eyes not straying from your figure as you ducked out of the room. Before you could fully leave, though, Zoro grabbed your wrist, spinning you around towards him.
You didn’t have enough time to ask what he was doing when he leaned around to kiss you one final time, his hands cradling your face as your lips moved against each other. It was only a moment later that he stepped away, looking rather sheepish but not very apologetic as he finally let you go. 
“You look more than pretty,” he murmured, eyes sinking into yours, and your throat dried, any words you might’ve formed dying away within seconds. “You always look more than pretty. You look gorgeous.” 
“Thank you,” you whispered, and then he ducked back inside the closet to change. 
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© halfvalid 2023
6K notes · View notes
artist-issues · 5 months
Note
“At least it's not ferociously attacking God quite as directly as Steven Universe did…”
Not that I’m surprised by this statement, but can you elaborate on this? Kinda intrigued by your thoughts on Steven Universe.
Okie dokie, you’re not the only one who has asked me about this, so I suppose I’ll poke the hornet’s nest. 😅 I haven’t talked about this before because I assumed that everyone who wanted to hear my kinds of opinions on stories wasn’t watching or interested in Steven Universe.
It’s like asking vegetarian if they enjoyed a turkey dinner. The turkey dinner was so obviously not made for vegetarians to enjoy, so why would the vegetarian even bother analyzing the turkey?
But I think if some people are asking me why I think Steven Universe is anti-God (of the Bible) its because maybe they don’t know what the turkey is. Not completely. (Maybe not you, because like you said, you’re not surprised by my comment.) So I’ll explain my thoughts on Steven Universe.
If you’re just following me because you liked some stuff I posted, but didn’t realize that I’m a Bible-believing Christian and don’t want to hear about it, unfollow me now. Because I’m going to talk about some hot button issues here and the trolls will come out.
Steven Universe is really well-done. The jokes are funny, the writing is believable, the characters have great chemistry, great design, the concept is fascinating, the slow build-up and reveal of the plot elements is great. But when you watch the throne room scene in the last episode of Season 5 “Change Your Mind,” it’s alarmingly clear how much the whole show is not just settling for defending and championing the LGBTQ+ worldview—it goes all the way to attacking what Christians believe, on the other side.
Anything that’s pro-LGBTQ+ is doing that by default, but this show goes out of its way to do that.
You have to understand: God created and designed us. Deeper than that; He created and designed romantic relationships, and invented marriage. He didn’t just create love—He is love. So when humans come along and do what we’ve always done since the fall, and say, “I’d rather define what Your thing is and how it works for myself, God,” it’s not only an incredible slap in the face, it’s an attack on God’s actual identity—and it’s destructive for us and the people around us. Like a fish insisting it can breathe oxygen.
But Steven Universe goes beyond that. It knows that the Christian worldview is it’s biggest opposition. It digs right down to the heart of the worldview-battle. LGBTQ+ worldview says, “I should get to love what I want and be who I am, because I’m me. Love is love. (By which I mean, any action or relationship I choose to call love is love, because I’m the one calling it that.)”
Biblical worldview says “No, wait, you shouldn’t base your decisions on you alone; what you want changes day to day, and you’re broken, so you can’t ever be satisfied based on what you want—the Bible says God made you for something, and you rejected that, and it broke you. You’re not how you’re meant to be: even what you want and what you think love is is twisted up and can hurt you and others. But if you submit to God He’ll help you, He’ll fix what’s broken and give you new life by making you how you were supposed to be: He’ll live in you and through you.”
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Are we beginning to get the picture?
See, the whole thing with the opposing views between LGBTQ+ and Christian people is as old as time. It’s not a new debate. It’s Satan and Eve in the garden. She says, “This is not how God said things should be,” and Satan says, “Are you sure that’s what He said? He knows if you do this thing, you’ll be like Him. You’ll be god: you’ll get to decide ‘how things should be’ for yourself.”
He lied and said that disobedience would satisfy her. That she knew what her own heart needed better than the God that made it did. That the very act of being imperfect would make her godlike.
And then Steven Universe comes along and says “if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hotdogs.”
And has a cast of created being characters who’s imperfections (Garnet’s forbidden “love,” Pearl’s obsession, Amethyst’s insecurity) are supposedly “the best thing about them; what makes them who they are.”
And has a main character who used to be a part of the god-like creator relationship, but used her power to come down to earth and completely change who she is into a fully different person.
And has a godlike Creator character who claims she “doesn’t need” her created beings (just like the God of the Bible) but they all have a little part of their creator in them so she has to repress their imperfections; she holds them all to a standard that’s impossible to reach called “perfection” and punishes them when they don’t meet it even though it hurts them to try; she expects them all to do what they were created by her for; she fixes them when they can’t meet her standard by shining her light through them and making them extensions of their Creator.
And has a main character who argues, fights back, tries to stop her, and is answered with lines that sound surprisingly like what LGBTQ+ people hear when Christians argue with them: “you’re only making things worse; you’re just deceiving yourself; even while you resist it your actual light can’t help shining through,” etc.
White Diamond just wants everything to be perfect. Like her. She just wants her created beings to “be themselves.” But what she means is, be how she created them to be.
And she’s the bad guy. She’s playing God in this show, and Rebecca Sugar is saying, “If God is telling us that can only be happy by being perfect, as He is perfect, and doing what He created us to do, then He’s wrong. Our imperfections are what make us special—unique—individuals—free—and there is nobody who has the right to take that freedom away from us, not even out creator!”
And you know what?
If God were like White Diamond, like Rebecca Sugar believes Him to be, Steven Universe would be right.
But He is NOT.
God is not a dictator who forces us to conform to a standard of perfection and then smashes us when we don’t meet it. He is a King who made us perfect to begin with, and we rejected him, because He allowed us to do that. He knew that true love was love that had to be chosen, and He wanted us to love Him by choice, so he gave us the option. But Rebecca Sugar doesn’t understand—there was never “Choose God or Choose Yourself.” There was only, “Choose God or Choose Nothing.” There was nothing except God. Then He created everything. There is no version of reality where you have something better than God, or even slightly less good but different, to pick. You’re not jumping from one ship into a smaller one, but at least it’s yours—you’re jumping from one ship into a void, and then complaining that there’s no other ship. That’s humans. That’s not God. / White Diamond didn’t make her creations perfect (Amethyst) and she didn’t make them for love. She made them for power. That’s not the God of the Bible.
Even when we did choose to try and love ourselves instead of God, and therefore warped our ability to perfectly love at all, He didn’t smash us. True, everything fell and was cursed, which is exactly what He warned us would happen if we chose it, but it was a natural consequence of breaking ourselves. And then He didn’t leave us that way. He didn’t give up on us. And He certainly didn’t just zap us, snap His fingers, quick-fix it and turn us all into robots who are extensions of Him, who say they love Him but only because it’s His voice puppeting us to say it.
No. He came to us, chose to give up His life at the exact point on the timeline when Romans, masters in the art of slow, humiliating, torturous death, would be the ones to carry out His crucifixion, and saved us Himself. Through the sacrifice of His own life. And even then, we still have a choice. We get to choose to accept that incredible self-sacrifice when we don’t deserve it, and be given new life and a relationship with the Creator who knows us and loves us better than we can love ourselves or receive love from others—OR we can just keep stubbornly insisting that our slavery to the opposite of what God wants is somehow freedom, and our twisted versions of love are genuine, and we’re not broken, and die like that. Die broken creatures who lived their whole lives stomping their feet and screaming “I’m not a creature, I’m a god!”
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White Diamond sacrifices nothing, because Rebecca Sugar doesn’t know the God of the Bible. She just knows her idea of Him. She’s never actually gotten to know Him. If she had, she’d learn how silly and twisted her idea is.
Because you know what, yeah, if every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have hot dogs. But people aren’t pork chops. And hot dogs have flavor (not better than pork chops) but they are awful for you.
Christians aren’t perfect cuts of meat with no individuality or flavor. Just because we all know and love the same God doesn’t mean we have no personalities. It just means we don’t think so freaking much about what we are, or who we get to be, or what we like and want. Jeez, what a self-centered, narcissistic, self-obsessed way to live. She plays Steven like he’s this wonder-child, innocent and full of heart, who encourages his friends to love and keep trying. But honestly?
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This is very pretty animation but it’s not real. Steven looks happy hugging Steven but self-love doesn’t ultimately get you that.
That’s all based on the premise that what he’s encouraging them to do is actually good, and will make them happy, and will help them love better. And it just won’t. Not in real life. That’s not how any of this works. Self-love is just self-obsession. And that is a sure-fire way to hurt you, and everyone around you.
You’ll never be free by choosing to run to a worse master. You’ll never be satisfied with your crappy attempts at loving yourself, because you were made to be loved flawlessly and forever by someone who is Love Himself.
And choosing to identify with your imperfections doesn’t make you uniquely you. It just makes you exactly like every other human being marching in the same line since the Fall.
White Diamond’s not relational. She’s up high and distant. That’s not God. He made you to be in relationship with Him. He loves you, totally and perfectly, and He proved it by sacrificing for You.
So yeah. That’s the problem with Steven Universe. Come get me, SU fans.
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jazzyoranges · 7 months
Text
Recollections of the past
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader
Summary: when you die, Tara struggles living without you
Words: 2k
A/n: thanks for all the love on ‘birthdays and stress’ :D
Warnings: scream 6 spoilers, major character death, angst, hurt/comfort (but mostly hurt), blood, crying, mention of sex
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Tara swears she can hear angels sing when you catch her eye. She looks at you, and her heart soars. It might’ve been the booze, it might’ve been the second-hand weed, but something came over her when you looked at her with the utmost adoration. Tara can’t control her body when she starts to lean in closer, and you end up closing the gap.
Your lips fit together like you’d done this hundreds of times before. You pull the smaller girl on top you, and Tara sighs like she’s just been accepted into heaven. Her hands tangle into your hair, and it’s your turn to sigh as she starts to massage the back of your head.
Unfortunately you’re both humans that need air to breathe, but that doesn’t stop you two from diving back into each other when you’re both ready for more.
Tara made sure she had the first pleasure of saying ‘I love you’ only seconds after you asked her to be your girlfriend.
“Little miss eager, are we?”
“I’d come up with a witty remark, but i’d much rather have incredibly soft sex with you”
“God, you’re such a dork. I’m surprised we haven’t done this sooner”
“God can’t help you anymore, baby. You’re all mine, and i’m not letting you go~”
“You’re saying that like it’s a problem”
“I remember the night i realized i was in love with you. Whenever i miss you, i always think about that night. I know i’m always telling you about it, but you were just so… ethereal. I don’t think i’d ever be able to forget how you smiled at me.”
On particularly bad nights when Tara had nightmares about Amber and the Ghostface attacks, you were always there to tell her it’ll be okay. At first Sam wasn’t too approving, but you reminded her of herself. You gained Sam’s trust when you showed up at their front door in the middle of the night looking like you’d just woken up (which you did) and proceeded to let Tara cry into your neck until the sun came up.
You’d rub circles into her back and massage the back of her head until your hands were numb, and the circulation of blood has long since left your fingers. Even before you two were official, you’d give Tara the most tender kisses you could offer her.
When you kissed her nose, she’d scrunch it up and give you the tiniest smile. When you kissed her cheek, she’d giggle and mumble ‘That tickles’ in a barely audible whisper. Finally, when you kissed her forehead, her wrinkles would disappear like they were never there. Only then would you start to lay Tara back down on her bed and let the smaller girl sleep until the afternoon
Tara found your smell intoxicating like a drug. She needed it to sleep, go outside, or do anything. She just need you around her at all times. Tara would steal your clothes just for the days you couldn’t be in her apartment.
“I haven’t washed any of your clothes. Sam tells me they’ll grow mold, but i’d keep them either way. Your mom let me take home most of your clothes. Sometimes i wish you’d bought more so i wouldn’t have to use the same ones every night.”
It’s been 3 weeks since you’ve died, and Tara hasn’t gotten used to the idea of you not being home. After long nights under the sheets with her, you’d make Tara something to eat every single morning after. Your aftercare didn’t stop until you decided your girlfriend was well taken care of.
Breakfast in bed, relaxing baths, Tara may as well be the queen of England with how much you spoiled her. More often than not, you’re up and awake hours before Tara. You use this time to clean up and tidy until your next round of fun times.
You’d wash her clothes, prepare her bag for classes, and clean up the strewn about clothes from the night before. When Tara woke up, she’d be able to hear the sizzling of bacon on a pan, and your less-than-ideal-singing. Tara found it adorable when you’d mess up a lyric or try and hit a high note.
Tara still woke up to bacon sizzling and music in the background, but your voice was no longer there. Maybe you just got tired from singing? Yeah. Definitely that. Tara waited for you to arrive in her room. You usually came in around 9:30 am, but the clock quickly turned into 10:00 am, 11:00 am, 12:00 pm and even 1:00 pm. Before she knew it, Sam was spoon feeding her at 10:00 pm and you still weren’t there.
“Whenever i smell breakfast and you’re not in bed with me, i always assume you’ll come bursting through the door with a smile on your face with a tray of my favorite food. I’ve spent hours waiting for you to show up, but you never do.”
It’s been 2 months since you died, and Tara hadn’t left her room in days. Sam was growing more and more concerned as time passed. She didn’t want to admit it, but Sam was scared. What was she supposed to do in this situation? Her baby sister was hurting, and she wasn’t able to take away her pain. Sam wasn’t dumb. She saw how you two looked at each other. There was nothing but love.
Sam didn’t want to admit it, but you’d won her over long before she showed it. You were a good friend as well. Always offering to be a shoulder to cry on or an ear to listen. Now you were gone, and Sam didn’t know how to help Tara heal.
After a particularly long night at work, Sam wasn’t met with the silence of an apartment, but the crying of her sister. Sam wanted to do something, but she didn’t know what. So for now she’d be the shoulder to cry on, just as you had been for the Carpenter sisters.
A nervous Sam opened Tara’s door, and she was met with her younger sister curled in a ball while wearing your shorts and shirt. Sam felt tears prick at her eyes from the sight, but she had to be strong. She had to be there for her baby sister. Slowly walking toward Tara’s bed, Sam leaned down to meet her eyes.
“…Sammy?” Tara croaked, and Sam could feel her heart shatter. Tara’s eyes were bloodshot red and her eye bags were such a dark color they rivaled her freckles. Tears were a constant stream on her face, leaving a damp spot on her bedsheets.
“Oh, Tara…” was all Sam could manage before she got into bed with her younger sister. Sam felt like a mother rocking her baby to sleep after a bad dream. God, Sam wished this was a bad dream. The older sister didn’t believe in any deity or god, but that night she prayed. Sam prayed to whoever out there would listen. She prayed her sister would be alright. She prayed her sister would be able to heal. She prayed for this to be a nightmare, and that you’d be alive and breathing the next day. Her last prayer never came true.
“On really bad days, i wear your clothes and put a heat pad on my stomach and pretend it’s you holding me. Sometimes in the middle of the night i can feel a warmth around me. I used to think it was you, but it ended up being Sam trying to comfort me.”
It’s been a year since you died, and Sam has been urging Tara to go outside more. It started off as easy and simple things. Getting groceries, going to the movies, and checking out books at the library. Tara actually got the number of a very pretty librarian. She was beautiful, kind, and sweet. Tara would’ve said she was the one before she’d met you. The librarian — whose name was Katie — asked Tara for her number.
Sam said this could be good for Tara, but they both knew this could only end in one way. Despite this, Tara agreed to a first date. Then a second date. And then a third date at Katie’s apartment.
But Tara’s heart was never in in. Tara felt bad she was wasting such an amazing girl’s time. Her wake up call was when Katie kissed her, and she didn’t feel your lips on hers. Tara cried, and Katie understood she wasn’t the right one. The brunette apologized and apologized, but Katie knew her heart was elsewhere after the first date.
“When other people kiss me, it doesn’t feel right. It feels like i’m cheating on you. I think about the disappointed look you’d have on your face when i come home, but you’re not there to give it to me. I know you’d want me to move on, but i don’t think i can.”
You died ferociously protecting Tara. Punches, kicks, and bites were exchanged. You fought, and you fought hard. But ultimately, protecting Tara was always bound to be your demise. You were battered and bruised when Ethan took the bag off your head.
“Y/N!”
“Not a step closer, Tara.” He pointed the gun at your head. “Or your precious girlfriend over here gets it”
“Fuck you.”
“A lover for a lover. If Richie can’t be alive, neither can she.” He pushes the gun closer to your head, and you have to suppress a shiver at how it’s covered in blood. “You sisters don’t deserve to be happy”
You look up at Tara, and both of you know one person between you two is going to come out of this alive. You decide it’s going to be Tara.
‘I love you’ are the last words you mouth to your girlfriend before you use all your body weight to knock down Officer Bailey and Quinn. A bullet is in your skull less than a second later.
“I still have nightmares, but they’re mostly about you. They’ve gone down with time, but some nights i have to see your face. I can’t tell whether it’s a curse or a blessing most times”
You died when you were only 22. Young and bright-eyed, you were still able to change the lives around you. Mindy shared many of your interests, Anika was your best friend, Chad learned about his love of football through you, and Sam was the sister you never had. But most importantly, you were the love of Tara’s life.
Tara wished she photographed every single moment she had with you. she knows better now. After your death, Tara spent more time with her family — which Chad named ‘The Core Four’. There were sleepovers, game nights, and movie nights way more often now, as per Tara’s request.
Moments with you were only in memory, and she vowed to never let your name leave her mind. So, Tara started to write. At first it was memories and fun moments with you, but it quickly turned into her experiences with Ghostface, and the story of her life. This was only meant for herself, though. Tara saw firsthand how media affects real life.
“I know how much you loved red velvet, so i got you a cupcake. It’s from a new bakery i know you’d like” The brunette sets down a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting and a candle at the base of your headstone.
The shorter girl looks up at the sky, and is met with a rapidly setting sun. “Well it’s getting dark, and i have to leave soon. I don’t want to worry Sam.”
Tara opens a heart-shaped locket around her neck with a picture of you and her in it. Bringing it to her lips, a few stray tears run down her face. “Happy 24th birthday, my love”
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wayfayrr · 6 months
Text
Self-conscious captain
the next self aware link and this time it's the captain my favourite boy, warriors!
[masterlist]
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“Hey [Name], I’ve been going through some of my old games to clear things out. I found my copy of Hyrule Warriors and wanted to know if you’d like it?”
“I thought that was one of your favourites though, what’s come into you to give it away like this? Do you want anything for it, I’d feel bad simply taking from you.”
“Nah I got it as a gift anyway, I beat the game and did everything there is to do. Plus I know you’ve been wanting to play it anyway, so please have it.”
There’s something off about this, between how skitterish they’re acting and the fact they’re so willing - that they’re so desperate for me to take their favourite game from them? I’ve got nothing else to go off of though, and they are right I have been planning to buy it. They wouldn’t be offering if they didn’t want me to have it so what is there to lose?
“If you’re sure then. I can’t wait to play through it myself rather than watching you.”
Is there such a thing as too much relief? Because if there is then that was definitely it, with how their shoulders relaxed; all the tension left their body as they handed me the game. Why does this feel like the start of a creepypasta, am I simply gonna go home then suddenly there’s some new version of Ben drowned for me to deal with? I won’t know until I play I guess, but it might be fun. 
There’s no better time than now to learn though, I’ve got the whole afternoon to myself anyway so why not? Putting the game into my switch; booting it all up it seems fine, so there’s nothing there that should have messed with them. It’s up until the first cutscene for anything to even show up that could be wrong. Link’s eyes seem to be focusing on me far more than they should during it, more than what should be possible, with more of a smile than he usually does during this too. Then I finally get to the level.
I can’t control Link, the game seems to be frozen, not a single bokoblin moving, Link is still moving, the camera isn’t even focused on him now and he’s moving closer to the screen. 
“Honeybee? You’re here! I knew your friend would cave pretty face when I pressed them. It’s so nice to have you here alone with me!”
“...What.”
“Oh it’s all alright dear, I did think you’d be a little shocked at first because, well I mean I know this isn’t something that happens very often. Would you be against getting to know me better though?”
What. The. Hell. No wonder they were so eager to pawn the game off to me, a living character that seems to be obsessed with me? If the roles were switched then I’d be throwing it at them as quickly as I could, I’m amazed they could even keep calm for long enough to hand it to me without seeming any more suspicious than they did, he threatened them he’s already admitted that stop lying to yourself [name]. Why does he even want me over the person who actually played as him? None of this makes any sense. 
“I - No I wouldn’t, actually could I ask you some questions too? Just y’know, try to get my head around all of this.”
“I’d be more concerned if you didn’t ask me any, I mean right now? You’re treating me more like an actual person than anyone else ever has.” 
“...”
“Where would you like to start then honeybee? We can take this at your pace, you’re in full control here.”
Where should I start? There are so many different things I want answers to, I could stay here for hours just talking to him to find out everything; now that I think on that, it’s not like I have anything else planned today. I could simply just stay here for a bit and talk, it’s probably the safer option too. If I don’t, do I really want to test the sanity of a sentient game character, no. 
“Um, if it’s all up to me then. Can I ask when you first became aware? Of the fact that you’re you know, a character in a game.”
“Oh, that? Well, it was about three months ago now, two or so weeks before you played with them. They really just saw me as a toy, not caring if I got hurt or anything, which is fair they never knew I was anything more than that; but you didn’t know either and you treated me like a person. You always apologised whenever I took any damage, never tried to get me hurt for your own pleasure or replace me as soon as you could. It was only a matter of time until I started to want you, then it was fairly easy to get eyes in your phone.”
“You've got ‘eyes in my phone?’ what do you mean by that.”
He looks so pleased right now like he wanted me to ask that exact question, it’s such a smug look on his face too. There’s something else to it as well, I can’t pinpoint what but there is certainly another look on his face. With how emotive he is it really doesn’t feel like this is some kind of sick joke, he’s too alive.
“That’s one of the things I’m most proud of!! It was pretty easy when you linked your phone to their switch to download a photo, I just made part of that connection a bit more personal and permanent. I promise I didn’t listen in on anything too private, I swear on Nintendo that I’m not like Cia. I promise.”
“Moving on from… that then. Why’s the real reason you wanted to be with me like this, I mean I get the feeling there’s more to it than you’re letting on.”
“You caught me I actually wa-”
The scowl that crossed his face when he was interrupted by the doorbell was unlike the cheery demeanour he’s been using, it’s almost like he’s angry or jealous of me having my attention split from him; it barely lasts a second though. Before his face swaps to one of remorse possibly because he got so irritated over something so trivial, that needs my focus more than he does right now. 
“I think you already know, but I should go check that. I’ll only be a couple of minutes, it’s probably nothing after all.”
Not even a word, just a nod and a look of rejection as if he was a cat I’d had to move off of me when I turned to go and answer the door. True to my word it wasn’t something that going to take long, simply signing for a couple of parcels. It only took me a few minutes to collect it and then start heading back to my room, I’ll be able to open them while I talk to Link after all. Really it would be cruel to make him wait after everything else he’s been through, even if he’s been monitoring… most of my movements, is it bad that I still feel bad after knowing that?
A shrill yelp followed by a shattering sound right when I was about to go back in wasn’t the best sign, the worst thing is that this time there wasn’t a digital overlay. Did someone break in - or break out? Only one way to find out.
“Honeybee? I - I’m sorry I - I really was trying to keep it in one piece.”
He’s out of the game.
Link is in my room bawling his eyes out because he accidentally broke my LED screen, the hero of hyrule is standing in my bedroom crying his eyes out because he broke a piece of glass. Earlier there was always a feeling of him trying to come off as likeable to me, to the point where it was manipulative, he wouldn’t even consider the idea of me not liking him. Now it’s like he’s having a panic attack at the possibility that I won’t like him because he broke my monitor. 
“I - I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please - just - I - I didn’t mean to break it.”
“Link -”
“My clothes would probably be worth a fortune to someone right? I - I mean it’s an actual set of armour from the Hyrulian forces - it’s real chainmail. If you sell it - it’ll more than make up the cost, right? You won’t hate me if I did that, right?”
“Link. I don’t hate you, it was an accident and even if it wasn’t I would forgive you.”
That seemed to snap him out of it, if only a little; he’s still crying but now he’s not rambling about ways to make it up to me. He clearly seems to want me, even if I still don’t entirely get why so maybe I could; opening my arms proves the fact that he really does just want some affection. Waiting wasn’t even on the cards as he practically dove into my arms barely seconds after looking at me for permission. 
“You really don’t hate me then? Really? Even though I’m not as good as the other games?”
“I don’t hate you for wanting to get out of what was essentially your prison or - you being as good as the other games? Your game is different but it’s just as good”
“But - you and your friend both said it. I - I’m not canon. You still treated me well that‘s why I fell for you, but I’m still - I’m still less than the other games. So I just, I really wanted to prove to you that I can be the only one for you [name]”
Stroking his hair seems to be calming him down now, the tears are slowing and his breathing is evening out the longer I stay here with him; only a few more moments until I should be able to get some answers from him. Adjusting to having a roommate might be a little strange, he really does seem nice though, nicer than anyone else I’ve ever met. Wait no I’ve only really just met him, why am I already thinking about that? It’s something to consider for certain - oh come on, just admit to yourself that you love this. He cares so why not see where it all goes?
“Canon just describes the story, it doesn’t change anything about you and I’m sorry if it’s ever seemed like that link. Come on, I'll clean the glass up, then you can finish explaining things okay?”
“No wait, it’s my fault, let me clean it up for you. If nothing else, please honey.”
“You don’t have to, it’s not a bother.”
So he already knows his teary puppy face can get me to agree to anything, he’s been here for less than a few hours and it already feels like we’re in a relationship as he knows me inside out… Which makes sense given that he has been watching me through my phone. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if I stopped fighting against what he’s offering.  The gloves he’s wearing make picking up shards less painful than it would be otherwise, doesn’t take him that long either.
Long enough for something to flicker on my switch, but that can wait.
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belovedmusings · 2 months
Text
Poppy red.
Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto
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Explicit Themes (🚫Minors DNI🚫)
Part six of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.
Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and today, after having gone no-contact with his bandmate, Suguru, for a month, you have him over at your house while Choso is visiting his brother. The two of you need to discuss your relationship...and hopefully exhibit much-needed self-control.
Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Suguru is hot, but so is Choso, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, missionary, oral sex (fem receiving)
Recommended songs to listen to while reading: HENTAI (Rosalía), Animal I Have Become (Three Days Grace)
A/N: Life has still been busy but I still am so in love with this story so I'll continue to update!! Here's a rather spicy chapter, enjoy :)
Read below cut:
The two of you take either side of the couch in the living room once you’re inside with the groceries all put away. 
Suguru had been watching television while you restocked the fridge and pantry, so once you join him, he faces you properly, beginning to speak.
“I want you in my life,” Suguru tells you right off the bat, seeming to want to avoid wasting time, “And before I…tell you how I really feel, I need you to know that I don’t want to take you away from Choso. I understand that you two are happy and I have no ill-feelings towards him.”
You nod, waiting for him to continue.
“That being said,” Suguru looks you deeply in the eyes. “I…what I feel for you isn’t like anything I’ve felt for anyone else. You’re constantly on my mind and I…I just want to be near you all the time. I want to hold you and…kiss you. Since I want to be completely blunt, I…I want more than that, too. I’m physically attracted to you, but also, I…I can picture us together.”
Hearing it out loud is a crazy experience, but Suguru is being open and honest with you. You want to meet him halfway. 
“I feel the same way, but I haven’t lost any feelings I have for Choso. It’s very confusing.”
“That’s another thing—I don’t want to hurt Choso. I really like him, and I’d never want to betray his trust.”
You sigh, looking down at your hands, which have begun fiddling with each other in your lap. Then, in one fluid motion, you feel Suguru move closer, his hand covering both of yours. 
“I…I don’t know how to move forward from here,” Suguru confesses as your eyes meet, your heart fluttering in your chest. “But I can’t say ‘goodbye’ to you.”
”Look…um, I just think it’s a good idea if we only see each other when he’s around,” you tell him, his palm warm over your skin. Your eyes are fixated on the sight. “We…can’t control ourselves when we’re alone together.’
Suguru sighs heavily beside you, giving your hands a small little pulse, his thumb gently running in small strokes. It makes you nervous, filling you with a pulsating warmth that ebbs and flows in rhythm with his touches. 
“See?” You say, “Even this…this is intimacy we shouldn’t be sharing. We wouldn’t do this with Choso around.”
He looks into your eyes, nodding minutely. “That’s true. I know what you’re saying is true. I just…have this urge to not keep my hands off of you. If you were my girlfriend…should you want it…I’d have trouble staying off of you.”
You suck in a slow, deep breath. “When you say things like that…”
“I know,” he shakes his head, “I know, I do. Just…why couldn’t I have found you first?”
“Suguru,” you look away, pulling your hand out of his. “I shouldn’t be entertaining you like this, but I just…there’s something about you that I just…”
“Why haven’t you told him about what we’ve done so far?” He asks suddenly, causing you to look at him again. Your lips part for a second in thought before the honest words come pouring out.
“I don’t want to hurt him,” you say, “He has a tough exterior but he’s incredibly soft and vulnerable on the inside. If I told him…it would…grow. Like a weed. Even if I assured him it was nothing to worry about, it’d be there in the back of his mind. It would make him see you differently too, and it might ruin the band. I can’t do that, Suguru.”
“So, your plan is to never tell him how you feel about me?”
“How can I?” You stand up, gesticulating as you speak, “Suguru, I can’t tell my boyfriend, ‘I think I have feelings for your bandmate even though I’m still every bit as in love with you as I was when we first got together.’ If he did that to me, I would be devastated.”
Suguru frowns. “But the longer this goes on…the worse the lie.”
“I can’t hurt him.”
“So tell him the truth. Tell him how you feel about me, but that you have no plans of ever leaving him.”
“Then what? Then he leaves the band and hates you?” You ask, the idea absurd to you.
“Then I talk to him, too,” Suguru says, “I tell him how I feel, and that I have no plans of taking you away.”
“You tried to kiss me the last time we were alone together.”
“I know,” He says, “but maybe if it’s out in the open…”
“He won’t want me ever near you again,” You protest, “it’s better if this stays a secret.”
“I don’t like secrets,” Suguru shakes his head. “What if I dropped hints? Let him figure out that I have feelings for you? And we’ll see what he does.”
“What good would that do?”
“Then he could control the situation. Would that make you feel better?”
If Choso was the one who picked up on it, he could approach you first, and then you could get a read for how he feels about it based off of the way he broaches the subject with you. 
You take a breath before nodding. “Yeah…it would.”
“Okay,” Suguru nods. “Then we’ll do that. It’s going to be okay.”
Your heart throbs painfully in your chest, and suddenly those words of comfort have a lump growing in your throat. Why? Do you like Suguru that much? Is it really having such a great effect on you?
His palm touches your cheek, and you look up at him to see his golden eyes staring into yours. His voice is soft as he says, “tell me how I make you feel.”
There’s a flutter in your chest and you breathe out shakily. “I…I feel a pull. You’re always on my mind, and your music is all I play. When I’m with you, I just…I want to do every bad thing in the book with you. I want to know how you kiss, how it feels, how you…”
Your words trail off as you realize how insane it sounds out loud. Still, he presses on. 
“How I taste?” He fills in for you, deep voice low and syrupy, just above a whisper. It robs your own voice from you. You nod your affirmation.
His hand soothes your hair back. ���What else?”
You inhale slowly to try and gain miniscule composure. “How you’d hold me…what it would be like if we were together…the sort of things we’d say, how we’d act, if we could just be a couple…”
“You like me bad,” he teases you lightly, and it commands a hot flush to your face.
“Don’t…”
“I’m right there with you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “I want to wake up next to you, to see you wearing my clothes, to make meals for you, to go out with you and spoil you…I want to make you happy.”
Your eyes close, and he takes the opportunity to ghost his lips over yours, the metal of his lip rings prompting a hitch in your breath. You begin to pull away, but he chases you, tilting slightly to plant a kiss to your cheek instead. You meet his eyes, and his own hold such an intimate gaze within them that you feel it sear through a layer in your heart. He keeps going; his lips meet the skin of your jaw, hands holding you by your back, and soon he’s trailing a line down your neck, arising goosebumps over the flesh he touches, the soft clicks indicating the cadence of each kiss only heightening your insanity.
Having lost a part of your conscience in his embrace, you return it, holding him close to you and relishing in his affection. You thread your fingers through his hair, pulling it from the tie it had been in, and he breathes out in relief, the warm air brushing over your skin.
His mouth stops at the neckline of your shirt, eyes glancing up at yours. 
“I want to keep going,” He states, lowly and softly. You swallow thickly, afraid of the lack of control you might display if you told him what you really wanted to say. Luckily, he doesn’t put you in that position, and he takes a breath, straightening up and putting some distance between you. “I won’t, though.”
Your eyes hold his for a moment, and then you move to speak.
The lock in the front door turns. 
Choso.
You hurriedly sit on the couch, an appropriate distance from Suguru, and understanding the situation immediately he follows suit on the other end. The door opens just in time, and your boyfriend walks through the door.
“Chos’,” you greet with a smile, standing and moving to kiss him. 
“Hey,” He kisses you back before noticing Suguru on the couch. “Oh, hey. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Oh, yeah,” Suguru puts on his signature disarming smile. “We happened to be out at the same grocery store. I had to get more tea for Larue, and the place I usually go was out so I came over here.”
“Yeah, I ran into him and invited him over,” You corroborate. Nothing we said was a lie. Just not the entire truth.
“Cool,” Choso smiles easily, not phased or suspicious in the slightest. He removes his shoes and drops his keys in the basket near the door.
“How was hanging out with Kechizu?”
“Ah, same old,” Choso shrugs, “just played games and had pizza.”
“That’s good,” You say, moving to sit back down on the couch. “I got us restocked for the week with groceries since I got a little bored.”
“Oh, good. We can just use Sunday for a lazy day then,” Choso states, moving to sit where you were sitting on the couch. That leaves one spot; between him and Suguru.
Seeing the turmoil flash behind your eyes, Suguru stands.
“Well, it’s getting pretty late. I should get going home since it’s a little far from here.”
“Oh, you sure? You don’t want to stay for dinner?” Choso asks, “we can just order in and hang out, you’re not imposing.”
You take a breath, and Suguru shakes his head. “I appreciate it, but I gotta run some more errands before I go back. I’ll take you guys up on that on another day if you’ll have me.”
“Sure,” Choso shrugs, “you’re welcome any time.”
“Thanks,” Suguru smiles, then walks to the door. He passes you, and you get another whiff of his jasmine cologne, your last dose for the night. He starts putting his shoes on. “Thanks for having me over.”
Recognizing he’s talking to you, you smile in a way that you hope is convincing. “Sure, it’s no trouble. We’re friends now too, after all.”
Something gleams in his eyes at that. The denial you’d given him last time has been overwritten. “Yeah? Sweet. Hey, would you mind if I got her phone number, Choso? It’s not weird, right?”
What?
You look at your boyfriend, who shakes his head. “No, it’s not weird,” He chuckles lightly. “Go ahead. It’s probably a good idea in case of emergency anyway.”
“You’re right,” You agree, moving over to Suguru to take his phone and put your number in it. You text yourself so you have his. 
“Thanks,” He says, taking his phone back. “Well, I’ll see you Monday, Choso! You guys have a good night.”
“You too.”
Choso raises his hand in a wave, and you close the door behind him once he leaves, locking it.
Once you turn around, you see your boyfriend’s eyes traveling over your figure, and it makes you feel warm.
“Chos’?”
“You look really beautiful like that.”
You take a look at yourself. Your hair’s kind of messy, and all you’re wearing is one of his sweatshirts and shorts. 
“Thanks,” you laugh, moving to sit beside him. “I’m not wearing anything special.”
“So?”
That catches you by surprise. He’s usually not this bold. He reaches out and puts a hand on your leg, running it up your thigh. 
“I’ve been thinking about us…” Choso says, “and…that time when I got a little flustered after you wanted me to choke you.”
Your mouth dries up. “…oh?”
“Do you want me to be rougher?”
Your next breath is uneven. “W-well, I…”
“I need you to tell me what you want,” He says, voice dropping a bit in volume. “You know I’ll give you anything.”
“A-anything?” Your voice is thin. He nods seriously.
“Anything in the world.”
You find yourself nodding. “I want…I want to try it rough.”
His lips are on yours in the next instant, and everything after that is a blur of bruising touches, the hurried removal of clothes, and an insistence in your boyfriend you've never seen before.
He has you laid out on the couch, both of your clothes strung around the room unimportantly, his mouth trailing kisses down your neck. A reminder that Suguru had been there not even an hour ago has you feeling a whirlwind of emotions; the shame gives way to arousal.
Choso’s teeth near your nipple has you gasping right back to the present, and you look to see him sucking marks into the soft flesh of your chest. His hands are on your thighs, spreading them, and without warning you feel the glide of his length against your mound. 
He begins grinding against you as he marks your breast up in hickies, pulling noises from you that you don’t recognize. 
His tongue runs over your nipple and you cry out, arching your back as he doubles down and continues to run his tongue over the hardened peak, your sexes rubbing intimately together in a way that makes your heart feel close to bursting.
It’s like he’s a new man tonight…he’s never this into it.
His teeth graze the tip of your nipple and you shudder, wrapping your legs around his waist and beginning to move your hips with his. He groans at that, moving to the next breast and giving it the same attention the first one got. 
“Chos’,” you moan out, feeling one of his hands find the apex of your thigh. It’s only a second before two of his fingers find their way inside of you, slipping in with no resistance due to the way he’s masterfully turned you on. He starts pumping his fingers at a pace, the long digits reaching deep within you, making you shiver again. 
The combination of his mouth and hand are enough to make your head spin. 
He adds a third finger and begins moving down, sliding to his knees off the couch and readjusting you so that he supports your legs with his shoulders. 
His lips scatter kisses and marks over the insides of your thighs as he continues to finger you, and not wasting any time, his mouth finds exactly where you need him, lips wrapping around your pearl and sucking as he pushes his fingers in deeper.
“Fuck,” is what leaves your mouth in a hiss, your hand gripping the couch tightly as he starts eating you out with gusto. “C-Chos’…”
He hums, tongue working wonders on you, and you think for a moment that you might actually lose sanity. 
It’s not like he hasn’t done this before. It’s just that you didn’t think he could be so bold. Usually he goes slower, he never really leaves marks, and he sure as hell doesn’t curl his fingers inside you as he’s doing now—but you’re falling even deeper in love with him.
“Oh my god,” a moan leaves your mouth, and he licks a fat stripe up your swollen bud before attacking it again with a kiss. “Choso…”
His free hand finds your breast again, and it’s over soon after that—the way his fingers pinch and tease at your nipple combined with everything else he’s doing sweeps you over the edge swifter than you’re prepared for, and your orgasm slams into you with a cry of his name. 
Or, rather, your first orgasm of the night.
He doesn’t stop there. He straightens up and climbs back between your legs on the couch, kissing you deeply as he lines up. Instead of asking, he takes, driving himself inside of you and making you take him despite the sensitivity of your walls.
You gasp as he begins moving immediately, nails digging into his shoulders. When you clench around him he groans, right in your ear, and you look up at him to see his face flushed prettily, sweat dripping down his forehead.
Another wave of lust for him takes over and you kiss him hard, nails dragging over his back. He mewls into your mouth and picks his pace up, the lewd, wet slap of your skin tell-tale to anyone who may be walking by the front door of your apartment. 
That reminds you…the two of you have never done it on the couch before. He couldn’t wait long enough to get to bed. 
Another one of your flutters around him causes his hips to stutter, and he ducks down, dragging his teeth over your ear before leaning up on his hands above you.
Then, one of them finds the base of your neck. Your lips part as he squeezes gently, focusing more power on the slam of his hips into yours. You feel him deep inside of you, the dull, harsh stretch of him forcing you to accommodate, and your eyes roll to the back of your head, voice reaching octaves you didn’t think you were capable of. 
“I love you,” he breathes, kissing your open mouth, and you shiver from the contrast of his rough-fucking and the gentle declaration of devotion.
“I love you too,” it comes out of your throat like a wrecked sob, and amidst his panting, he reaches down and starts rubbing you in time with his thrusts, doing exactly what you need in order to finish for the second time. 
As soon as you do, you feel him twitch, pressing deep into you to give you his load. Your own body shakes at the feeling, a sense of euphoria washing over you akin to the rush of opium. 
When you open your eyes, his own mahogany ones are looking at you, a loose, dopey smile on his lips.
“Fuck,” you rasp intelligently, and he chuckles, burying his face in your neck.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nod, hugging him close. 
No one is on your mind but him. What else happened today? You can’t remember. You can’t think at all. 
Right now, Choso is your world. 
___
A/N: calm before the storm me thinks. Seriously though, if you're sticking with this and still waiting for the updates, thank you so much, I appreciate you. I still plan to post on AO3, I'm just not sure when I'll have the time. Keep your eyes out for the next update!
Please don't copy or repost, but feel free to reblog and share! Taglist (comment here or my masterlist if you want to be added): @jaegerstan222 , @cosmicstarlatte , @dabisdolly , @moonriseoverkyoto , @propheticfire , @bontensbabygirl , @crlyhairedwxtch , @alittlebirdahgaselx , @okkovtsu , @notbellasstuff , @uchihabbynic , @polaroidnana , @childofilluvatar , @shadowfoxy , @jordan-network , @dreamtravelersade , @unmatchxd , @lucyrocks86 , @spineyy , @k3lbade , @xxbuckpoppi , @naughtygobbo , @slammynics , @roseambers , @luvingyouwasreallyhard , @hinachaaan , @redladyrae-blog , @spiteless-xo , @slutforaz , @bellaabee082 , @thedorklingqueen , @delayedrage , @poopwons , @pandisastergod , @username23345 , @sleazymac-n-cheesy , @forest-haven , @midnaamethyste , @bihanspookies , @mysteriouskiller1 , @liyahthings
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diejager · 9 months
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who's the cruelest yandere out of the cod men in your opinion 😵‍💫 i wanna say price, but i'm interested in your own view!! ☄️🫣
Hmmmm I, honestly, never put much thought to who’s the cruelest of the bunch, but I am inclined to agree with you.
We all know Price, he’s an authoritative figure, he’s a Captain after all. With the rank and power of a captain, plus how successful his missions are, I’d say he’s also very respected. And we all know how respectable people hide dark secrets, no?? Price can be nice, but he can be as mean and cruel as he’s nice. He can be really cruel if he wants to, he doesn’t have a clean slate either, not with that stunt he pulled in MW1.
In my opinion, if given the opportunity (either as a yandere or simple a dark character) he’d be down right cruel, he’s a captain, he gets what he wants and what he wishes. With rank comes power, and with that, not much can stop him. He can still be sweet and soft, as any man, but he doesn’t shy from degrading and spanking. He might actually enjoy spanking, with a bit - a lot - of rope and handcuffs, it lets him have a lot more of control over you.
I’d put König somewhere behind Price tbh, he’s higher in ranking and power than Price, but he doesn’t do much about it, since PMC’s work differently than the military. I will say, however, that he can be rough and mean, cruel in a possessive way to show you who you belong to and who owns you. Bullying and possessiveness has a link in psychology (or so I’m told), and that just adds to the fire that makes König mean and imposing.
He’d definitely use his height and weight against you, pinning and degrading you in the cruelest way he can, a bully of some sort, but one just for you. König’s a dark man, as well, keeps his secret as close to his heart as he keeps his face hidden under his veil. He’s real physical, being bullied means that no one really wanted to be associated with him for fear of receiving the same treatment, so he grew up as a lonely kid. Which fuelled his possessiveness and jealousy. He’s extremely touch starved, it makes him like the thought of owning and belonging to someone physically and mentally.
Soap is third on the list, since he’s a bit more reckless and rowdy. He likes having his way, with how headstrong and boisterous he is, it’s at least expected that he likes getting what he wants. He’s not exactly cruel in a hitting or verbal way. He’s more of a “push over the limit” kind of cruel. He forgets your limit with how enthusiastic he is and it goes from nice to mean.
He’s not necessarily doing it on purpose, he’s just too enthusiastic! He’s a giver, but might give too much. And too much of good becomes bad. He’s a tad bit rough, beard burns and bruises, but he truly means no harm. He loves physically, kisses and hugs, hard hugs but only to show how much he loves you. Even as a darker character, he might be slightly more violent and degrading, but remember, he’s still headstrong and honest in the remake.
I put Ghost farther down cuz, well, he’s lived in a toxic household with an abusive father. He knows what it is to be hit, to be thrown around and to be berated for something he was innocent of. So while he is cruel to others, blunt and brutal with his words, he won’t raise a hand or his voice against you. It’s true that some of those that were abused grow up to become a cruel, callous and cold person, but that’s why he joined the military. It helps him control his sudden bursts of anger rather than taking it out on someone he cares about.
Even as a yandere or a morally grey character, if he learns to love someone, he’s not going to act out abusively. He knows what a toxic environment does to a person. He’s a soft carer, showing that he cares by memorizing your habits, your preferences, your little kinks and anything that makes you quirky. He might be a bit rough and mean, but he’d specify that he means none of it. After care is really, really important.
Lastly, Gaz, meh bby. Couldn’t do wrong in my mind. He’s precious and adorable. He’s dependable and likes to be praised and appreciated. I find it hard to imagine Gaz as someone cruel and demeaning. He likes being acknowledge for the things he’s done well, being given kisses and loving words. He’s a soft lover, he cares and gives a lot, but he loves being told how good he is.
We see how compassionate he is when he was first introduced in MW1, he doubts and hesitates, but always wants to help do good. He might have a slightly grey moral compas, but it’s extremely light when compared to Price and Ghost. He wants to help and means good, might be the reason he joined the military. Being strong and reliable to the person he cares about, to love you with all he can give. He’s not mean or degrading, unless you ask him to play the part, he won’t.
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fanfic-inator795 · 1 year
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Spoilers for Puss in Boots: Last Wish (specifically Perrito) below
My bff and I were talking about this last night, but I figured I’d write it all out here: one thing I really do appreciate about Perrito is that while other characters may see him as naive and innocent, the film never treats him as overly naive or foolish.
The best example of this is when he’s explaining his backstory. It would have been SO easy to have him be still searching for his family/litter mates, believing firmly that they still wanted him/were still playing ‘hide and seek’. If they’d done this, then Perrito really would have been an extremely naive character (as well as all the more unnecessarily tragic). It also would have been easy to have this be Perrito’s wish, as well as the lesson that he needed to learn - that he doesn’t need his former (and incredibly crappy) fam, and that he can/should move on from his tragic backstory, letting himself be with his new friends instead.
But the film doesn’t go this route... Because Perrito has already realized and internalized this lesson.
Think about it. For as much as he may seemingly still see the whole ‘swim in the river’ incident as an extra challenge to a game of Hide ‘n Seek, outside of the “Guess I’m still It!” joke, Perrito doesn’t dwell on the fact that he never saw his family again. Just as he never dwells on nearly drowning. He only brings up his past when others ask him about it, otherwise he’s only focus on the present - which is why he’s so satisfied with things to the point of not needing a wish.
When it comes to his backstory, he instead just sees the brighter side of things regarding it (getting a new ‘sweater’ that he was able to grow into) and focuses on moving forward and meeting new friends, instead of going on an endless search for those who left him behind. Even while he’s at Mama Luna’s, he still tries to socialize with the other cats - though he backs off when they hiss at them, still understanding that he isn’t exactly well-liked there.
What’s more, it’s made VERY clear that Perrito’s tendency to trust in people without hesitation is not out of naivete: it is out of choice. He knows that people can be cruel (we see him briefly get scared of Jack Horner and the Bears when he gets kidnapped, even if he ends up making friends with the latter) and he knows that he can’t exactly fight back against that, being such a tiny dog. But he’d still rather give people a chance instead of just hiding away from the world. He never tries to claim that every person has some good in them or anything like that, he simply states “well, you have to trust somebody”.
What really drives this point home - aside from the excellent advice that Perrito gives throughout the film, showing just how thoughtful and wise he is, even when he seems totally clueless in other moments - is his moment in the film’s climax with Jack, where he’s finally able to do the cutesy eyes. The joke is how Jack is ‘dead inside’ and would never fall for such a ploy, and how Perrito is (or rather, would be) dumb for thinking that simply being cute would stop this heartless bastard.
But the twist is that Perrito already knows this. There isn’t a moment where it’s shown that he thinks this act will work. No, Perrito meant it as a distraction the entire time - he wanted to try and help, and he trusted his friends to catch on and take the shot once the distraction worked. And I freaking LOVE THAT! I love that Perrito is so much more than just ‘diet Donkey’ or ‘innocent and naive dog that doesn’t know how the real world works’.
He knows how it works, he just chooses to still see the bright side in things in order to improve others’ lives as well as his own, because there’s a difference between naively trusting people who haven’t proven themselves and just giving people a genuine chance to be your ally/friend. And I’m just so happy that Dreamworks not only made a character like this but just did a fantastic job writing him.
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moonlightspencie · 11 months
Text
… Angels Roll Their Eyes
Description: A new recruit to the BAU catches Reid’s eye. Unfortunately for the both of them, she has a past with someone very close to him. Are they willing to keep secrets just to keep one another? (TWO-PART MINISERIES)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader gets a minor injury, sexual references/content (i’ll accept 16+ because its definitely not more than pg-13 material but writing anything sexy makes me feel weird if i know teenagers are reading it)
Word Count: 4.2k
A/N: READER’S POV!! this is where the bridge kicks in teehee. (also savannah is more of a minor character at this point, nobody really knows she and derek are together)
Devils Roll the Dice… (click for part 1)
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I walked up to the figure illuminated by vending machine lights. His head was down as he looked through the options, not really intending on buying anything at all. I slowed my steps on the approach, just barely catching his attention before I was right next to him.
“Hey,” he said quietly, giving me a soft smile.
I grinned in full, not bothering to hide my feelings. Nobody was around, anyways.
“Hey. You come here often?”
He laughed. “Only this once. Waiting around for this girl who said she’d meet me here.”
“Sounds like she’s into you.”
He nodded. “I think so.”
I grabbed his hand, attempting to pull him closer. He took the advantage to bring me in instead, my back against the hard plastic of the machine’s display. Rather than kissing me then and there, he leaned in, lips unbearably close to my ear.
“I feel like we’re sneaking around past our parents,” he said quietly.
“You never got that ‘teenage dream’ experience. Maybe this is your second chance.”
He smiled. “Maybe.”
His lips pressed to mine, silencing our whispered words for good.
We were far from teenagers at this point, but he was still a dream. I found myself feeling giddy at every turn, completely ignoring the impending doom that loomed over our relationship.
We both knew we weren’t trying hard enough to hide it. Neither of us knew what would happen when it finally came to light.
Until that happened, we’d pretend it wasn’t in the cards at all. Summer love was still sweet, even being far removed from the romanticism of anything resembling the movie-loves I’d grown accustomed to religiously watching. This was somehow better. Maybe because it was more realistic. Probably because it was always more thrilling to live it out.
I smiled into our kiss, feeling his wandering hands trying to get themselves under my legs to lift me up. Sadly, we never got the chance.
We heard footsteps coming down the hall quickly, breaking apart and trying to look as nonchalant as possible as we mindlessly gazed at the snacks inside the machine.
“I’m thinking M&Ms,” I noted, almost laughing.
Spencer hid a smile. He clicked the right buttons right as our visitor reached us. The little package dropped, our secret still somehow concealed from a slightly-confused Aaron Hotchner as he stood behind us waiting for his turn.
“Night,” I said, giving a slight nod.
“Goodnight.”
Spencer followed behind me, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that he didn’t have some cheap snack of his own in hand as we walked past. I rationalized that he looked too tired to notice, anyways.
We wound up back in my room, giggling with each other like kids at a sleepover. I made him do a face-mask with me while he made me listen to a lecture on how the hyaluronic acid in the formula provided moisture for our skin. I gladly listened with a smile on my face, and he happily accepted a hundred kisses as I wiped his face clean afterwards.
We laid on my bed, mindlessly talking about whatever came to mind. He took my hand in his, running his thumb across the back of my hand in repeated motions as we talked.
“What do you say we stop hiding us?” I asked at last, staring at the ceiling. “I’ve established myself on the team at this point, I think.”
He was quiet for a moment, still running his thumb over my hand.
“I don’t know. I think it’s better that we keep it quiet.”
I paused, taking in his response. I’d hoped that after a while we wouldn’t be hiding anymore. As much fun as it was to sneak around, it could be utterly exhausting. But, if he still wanted to, I’d agree.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he questioned, turning his head to look at me.
I looked back at him, giving him a small smile and a nod.
“Yeah. If that’s what you want, it’s fine by me.”
He smiled, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I sprung up a moment after, standing at the foot of the bed. I grabbed my phone, clicking around on the screen as he propped himself up to look at me. I held out a hand to him.
“Dance with me, pretty boy,” I sang out, hitting shuffle on one of my playlists.
He quickly obliged, not wasting a second in worrying about whether or not he could actually dance. He knew I’d be there to guide whatever movements he didn’t know how to do yet.
Whispers of ‘are you sure?’
I smiled at him, admiring the way he payed way too much attention to how he moved. I made it a goal to loosen him up. After a minute, he was letting me guide, leaving his body to its own devices. He was really better off for it.
I can see us lost in the memory
We swayed along to the song, silently praying it wasn’t some kind of sick foreshadowing of how our summer would end. I pretended not to care much about the lyrics. He pretended not to listen to most of them.
August sipped away like a bottle of wine
Cause you were never mine
“Do you think that’ll happen to us?” I asked, still smiling past the gravity of the question.
“Of course not,” he answered with finality.
Wanting was enough
For me it was enough
To live for the hope of it all
I took his hands, the both of us spinning around in circles with smiles on our faces that were real and genuine despite a nagging feeling that something might be wrong.
I knew mine had a lot to do with very real feelings I was scared to talk about. I was too afraid to think about what may have filled his head. It was really none of my business, anyways, so I cleared my head of it all. Wanting was enough. I didn’t have to doubt that. It had been enough for two months so far. That had to count for something.
Weeks later and it was August. That lingering question of “will it last” was ever-present in my head. I just kept pushing it down. Fuck compartmentalization. That question was locked in a dungeon, chained to a wall, and I intended on keeping it there until we were either burning to the ground or eloping in Vegas.
Those seemed like the most viable options, anyway. An extremely-attached, yet no-strings kind of situationship could really only go one of two ways.
I almost wanted him to hate me at that point. It would certainly be a thrilling end if he revealed that he never cared about me and was only doing all of this to screw with my head. Almost like he was a spy, trying to uncover whatever boring substance made up my psyche.
I knew that was… Slightly less realistic, though.
I probably shouldn’t have been thinking about it so thoroughly, especially since it was merely theoretical. It would have caused a lot less mental work. It also might have prevented me from being off my game.
I had a habit of being a bit clumsy when we weren’t in life-threatening situations, but messing up while we were on a case? Unbearably embarrassing.
I looked up as my arm hit the wall to stop me from falling over my own two feet, disgusting to find that an exposed nail head had given me quite the scratch. It looked pretty gnarly, and frankly I was thanking my lucky stars I’d already gotten a tetanus booster after my last injury. However, I probably couldn’t go much further with my arm bleeding. Especially if they didn’t necessarily need me. It was one man they were going after, and we didn’t even know if he was in this house.
I voiced to Hotch what had happened, and he told me to leave if I was safe enough to do so. JJ and three officers occupied the house anyways, so I booked it out of there.
I cleaned myself up as well as I could with the first aid kit in the car, planning on doing a better job when I got back to the precinct. The house we were in turned out to be a bust anyways. Our unsub was still in the wind. He clearly hadn’t even been in the house in weeks. It was wildly frustrating.
Until Miss Penelope Garcia called in to save the day as she always did. She let JJ and I know that the others were currently heading across town to an apartment that she was certain housed the unsub and our most recent victim.
“Finally,” I sighed, leaning my head back in the seat.
JJ was quiet, and I looked away from my driving to see her. She smiled at me when I turned my head.
“What?” I questioned with a laugh.
“Can I ask you something?” she inquired, sitting up a little more straight. “It’s a little personal.”
I quirked a brow. “You can ask, but I reserve my right to remain silent.”
She laughed. “Alright. Fair enough. Uh, I’m just wondering about you and a certain team member.”
I swallowed. Uh oh.
“Okay?”
“I’ve just— I’ve heard rumors, and I wanted to ask you directly about them rather than letting the rumor-mill run.”
I nodded slowly. “What have you heard?”
“Word on the street is that you and Morgan used to be an item.”
Oh.
“Ah,” I replied with a chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we were a thing. But that was a while ago, and I’m pretty certain we’ve moved past it.”
“Right, yeah,” she nodded. “You know, he has a secret girlfriend now.”
I smiled, glancing at her. “Really?”
She nodded again. “Yeah. He’s been trying to hide it, but Garcia loves to talk.”
I laughed, thinking of the bubbly, well-meaning woman. She had a hard time with secrets, though she tried her hardest.
“That’s good. He deserves to be happy, he was always a great guy,” I said.
“Just gotta look past all of the mindless flirting and the jock-persona,” JJ noted jokingly.
I hummed in agreement, turning down the road that would lead us to the precinct at last. It was a good thing, too, since my arm was really starting to irritate me now. My discomfort must have been obvious, as JJ looked at me once again.
“You okay?” she questioned. “That cut on your arm looks pretty painful.”
I looked at it, noticing there was some bleed-through on the bandage. I sighed, not looking forward to cleaning it up.
“I’ll live. It just itches pretty bad right now, and it’s fairly sore.”
“I can help you when we’re back at the station. You shouldn’t have to do that alone.”
“Thanks Jayje,” I said, resting a hand on her arm briefly.
She covered my hand with her own, giving me another smile. It felt like she could see through me on occasion. She had quickly become one of my closest friends on the team, which took me a little by surprise. She seemed a little too unironic-girlboss when I first met her, but the second Penelope helped me see her true colors… We were fast friends.
I almost found myself telling her about Spencer and I on multiple occasions, but always ended up thinking better of the idea. That moment was one of the times I almost said something.
Of course, I thought twice about it, but she gave me that look like she knew what I was thinking.
I found an out when we pulled into the precinct, and took up her offer to help me with properly fixing up my arm. We made light conversation as I tried like hell not to focus on the stinging pain that occurred every time she probed at the cut.
We did whatever we could to help after she was finished. At least until the rest of the team showed up. But, to my delight, we rounded out our night by heading home and going straight to the bar.
I didn’t often let myself get well and truly drunk. Especially not when I was around Spencer. I knew I had been staring at him once I downed my sixth shot, but by the third mixed drink he was pulling me out of the bar. He threw out some kind of excuse that he was tired and I needed a ride home.
“What’s up with you?” he asked after bidding a goodnight to everyone else. “You’ve been acting weird, and now you’re getting wasted.”
I was annoyed by the comment, but there was concern in his voice over everything else. I leaned into him as we walked towards my car.
“I just wanted to have some fun, Spencie.”
He sighed, continuing to help me walk until we reached my vehicle.
“Come on,” he muttered under his breath, helping me into the backseat of the car.
I slumped over into the seat as he did, just barely letting him put the seatbelt around me and click it into place. He was fairly quiet as he did so, which really only furthered my concern. Even drunk I knew well enough to see that something was off with him. He shut the door, and I let myself drop against the seat, listening as he opened and closed the driver’s side door.
I glanced up, seeing him adjust the mirror to keep an eye on me in the seat rather than the road. It was dangerous and stupid. And so sweet it made my stomach flip.
I let my mind wander as he turned on the radio, thought he kept it low, and started driving. I thought of him and the summer we’d shared thus far. Three months is nothing in the grand scheme of life, but it felt like everything when I was with him. He felt like everything in that time. I hated keeping him a secret so much.
Maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much.
I let out the tears I was holding back, sniffling as the snot starting trying to weasel its way out of my system. If I was going to cry like a baby, I wasn’t going let myself get all gross and grimy. That’s where I drew the line. I’d make sure at least some of my dignity was preserved.
He looked at me in the rear view mirror, brows furrowing.
“Y/N?”
I sniffled.
“Yeah?” I managed, knowing I sounded absolutely pathetic.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft. “Why are you crying?”
I met his eyes as he continually glanced at me in the mirror. I had to have looked ridiculous, laying on the backseat with tears streaming down my face for seemingly no reason.
“I’m fine.”
He deadpanned. “You’re sobbing in the backseat of your own car.”
“I’m fine,” I said again through tears, voice coming out much more whiny than I’d intended.
He said my name as a warning, seeing through my… untruth. I felt more happy calling it that than anything else. I looked at him, admiring his pretty face through the mirror as he looked on at the road ahead. Maybe it was a good idea for him to practically drag me out of the bar. I could be a messy drunk, and I definitely would’ve outed us by wanting to be messy with him in front of the team if I’d drank any more.
Keeping secrets sucked. It was stupid and annoying. Especially when he was so hot.
I whined out loud at the though, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What?” he whined back, a laugh on his lips.
“I’m sick of this.”
“Sick of what, baby?”
I sighed, wiping away tears that kept on rolling.
“Keeping secrets. I don’t want to have to keep hiding this just to keep you.”
He sighed to match mine. “I know.”
“I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“Honey, we don’t have much of a choice.”
“But I’m going to explode if I can’t kiss you in public anymore.”
“No, you won’t,” he said, looking at me again.
I pouted. “I will.”
“You’re drunk, baby. We’ll get you into bed and you’ll feel better tomorrow.”
“Will you come to bed with me?”
He smiled softly. “Of course.”
I felt the car starting to slow, and though my vision was a little blurry, I saw the green light ahead turn to yellow. I looked at him again, a small smile coming to my tear-soaked face.
“Spencie?”
He hummed in question, not yet looking at me.
“Can I tell you something really stupid?”
“I’d love nothing more.”
I paused for a moment, letting my inebriated state wipe away any inhibitions I may have had otherwise. The car stopped at the light at last. I smiled softly.
“For what it’s worth, I love you,” I mumbled. “And it’s the worst fucking thing you could hear right now.”
I hoped he’d say it back, though part of me expected him to pretend he hadn’t heard me at all.
I definitely didn’t expect him to look at me through the mirror with a devilish smirk.
“I know you do,” he stated. “And it’s not the worst thing I‘ve heard by a long shot.”
I bit my lip to hold back a smile as he pulled away from the light. We ended up back at my apartment, Spencer still helping me stumble the whole way there. I pushed him back against the door as soon as we were inside, but he held my wrists to stop me from feeling him up. I pouted.
“Ow,” I said, pulling my injured arm from him.
“You okay, princess?”
I nodded, quiet. He simply looked at me, certainly not believing me.
“Why are you doing that?” I questioned.
His eyes widened. “W-why am I stopping you?”
I nodded silently, still pouting.
“Baby— You’re drunk. I’m not doing anything with you while you’re drunk.”
I dropped my hands, whining as I leaned my full body into his. He wrapped his arms around me, walking— more so waddling— with me until we reached my couch.
“I just wanna kiss you,” I grumbled into his chest, letting him drop me onto the cushions.
I stared up at him, trying to look alluring. I probably just looked a little out of my mind.
“I love kissing you, but not while you’re so drunk you can’t even stand up by yourself without almost tipping over,” he said, smiling softly as he crouched between my legs.
He leaned up, softly kissing my forehead. He kept my face in his hands, looking at me. He let one hand drop, running it across my arm. I pulled back again, feeling the discomfort in my arm from my earlier injury.
He furrowed his brow, looking down at my arm as it was covered by my sleeve.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m fine.”
“You pulled away twice when I touched your arm.”
“It’s okay.”
He sighed, grabbing my arm and gently moving my sleeve up over the bandage. He let out a sharp breath.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, trying not to be annoyed with my concealment. “When did you get hurt?”
I deflated. “Today.”
“How?”
“I got cut. Fell into a nail in the wall.”
He ran a hand over his face. “You should’ve told me.”
“Why?”
He glanced up, furrowing his brow. He was clearly annoyed with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel terribly about it.
“Because I want to know when you’re hurt.”
I swallowed. Okay, that made me feel a little guilty.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It is. That’s a pretty big bandage.”
I was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to worry.”
“It’s my job to worry about you.”
“No, it isn’t.”
He quirked a brow. “Why not?”
“We aren’t even like… A real couple,” I said, closing my eyes. “All we do is sneak around and you don’t ever want to tell anyone and I just don’t think that we can keep acting like it’s gonna last forever if we can’t even tell friends about—”
“It’s not my fault you dated Derek first,” he said, cutting me off.
I scoffed. “He doesn’t even care. That was forever ago and he has his secret girlfriend now anyways.”
“You wanted to keep this secret in the first place.”
“Well I’m sick of it,” I yelled. “I’m sick of keeping secrets and I’m sick of you not caring that I’m in love with you.”
“Not caring?” he asked, voice raising as he leaned back on his knees.
“You didn’t even say it back when I said it.”
“Because you’re drunk! How am I supposed to know if you even mean it?”
“Because I do!”
I groaned, my head dropping back against the cushions. My buzz was starting to wane, and I wished it would hold on a little longer.
“You were crying in the backseat. We said we’d talk about this tomorrow when you were sobered up. Why don’t we stick to that plan?” he said after a moment.
“Why can’t you just tell me how you actually feel about me?”
“I don’t want to say something and have you not remember it.”
“You’re so annoying,” I grumbled.
He rolled his eyes, standing abruptly. I readied myself for him to leave. I knew I was being childish, but I was tired of keeping everything bottled up. I wouldn’t blame him for dropping me then and there.
But, he reached out a hand.
“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
I looked up at him curiously, not yet taking his hand.
“You’re staying?”
He nodded. “Of course. I don’t want to leave you like this.”
I reached out, letting him help me up. We walked to my room, quietly undressing. I climbed into bed, watching him as he finally tugged off his pants, leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers. He shut my door, turned off the lights, and got under the covers with me.
He reached out for me under the sheets, tugging me against him. I sighed, resting my hand over his arm.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
I woke up to a horrible headache, and a nauseous feeling that I was convinced would probably never ever go away. I was 100% certain I would never drink again ever in my life. It was a set rule that I made very quickly.
“How are you feeling?” Spencer asked.
My next rule was that nobody was ever allowed to speak to me again.
I broke it immediately.
“Like crap.”
“Here,” he said, a stupid smile in his voice from the one word.
I opened my eyes to see him offering me a couple of little pills and a glass of water. I took them, grateful, even though I wanted to tell him to leave me alone in the dark for the next few months. Thankfully, he let me lay in his arms until the medication kicked in and took the edge off of my stupid hangover. I was at least thankful we didn’t have work that day.
My head was buried in his chest when I felt his lips against the top of my head. He rubbed my back, coaxing me back to the real world. Unfortunately I’d been a mess in the real world the night prior and did not want to deal with the aftermath.
“Baby,” he said quietly. “Are you alright?”
“Mhm,” I hummed, leaning back a little. Just enough to see him. “Medicine helped.”
“Good,” he smiled. “I was a little worried. You drank a lot more than you usually do last night.”
“I know. I was a mess.”
He smirked. “A little bit.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, brushing hair out of his face. “I’m sorry we argued.”
He was quiet for a second, then perked up a little when his phone dinged.
“You hungry?”
“I really don’t want to go out, love.”
He laughed softly. “I know. I ordered in while you were laying down.”
“You’re a dream, Spencer Reid.”
We tumbled out of bed, Spencer insisting on preparing everything after he thanked the delivery person at the door. He made me sit at the table and wait for him, not allowing me to do anything at all until all of the food was laid out. He delighted in it.
“There,” he said, setting down our drink at last as he sat next to me. “And you tried saying I didn’t love you.”
My eyes widened, not expecting him to say anything, but especially not like that. He looked at me.
“What?” he questioned.
“That’s how you’re going to tell me?” I asked with a laugh.
“I thought you knew anyways,” he shrugged. “I do love you, you know?”
I felt heat in my cheeks at that, a smile on my face that I couldn’t control. He smiled right back at me, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand.
“Do you really think we’ll last past summer?” I asked, hoping he was feeling honest.
He sighed, the smallest grin on his face.
“It’d be a cruel end if we didn’t.”
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istoleyoursk1n · 4 months
Note
Hello, I saw your requests are open after I read some of your stuff and wanted to give an idea. One thing I don’t see too often in fantasy is anti-magic types so I’d like to request a Tav that is magically blank. What I mean by that is where everyone else either has magic or is effected by it, Tav can be neither of these. Try to hit them with a lightning bolt? Doesn’t work. Illusions? Doesn’t work. Enchantments? Nah. This makes them a terrifying mage hunter that can go toe to toe with many magic creatures and users. Of course they need to work around not being healed by magic as well. (Choose whoever for the characters!)
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How would the boys react to a Tav who’s incapable of being harmed by or creating magic?
(If any of you won't see one for the girls, just ask <3)
.
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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION
“I know I’ve already got the delightfully excellent privilege of looks to me, darling, but damn it all! You’d think those lazing Gods would grant me more than just a dashing face to get me through my troubles too!”
Immediately comes asking how the hell you gained such an ability and if so, how could he get some of that for himself.
He's envious of the fact that nearly all magic seems to have little to zero effects on you. He's far too consumed by the amount of advantages it gives you that he doesn't exactly see the downsides.
I mean, he’s seen you take a fireball to your face and shake it off as if it was nothing. However, the sight of you bleeding out as every magical healing potion and spell does absolutely nothing to aid you ends up being the very thing that makes him wonder if it would be worth it.
But hey! It's rather entertaining for him to watch every foe you encounter gasp in shock when they realize all the magic spells they throw at you do nothing to hinder your each attack.
The funniest thing he saw was someone trying to manipulate you with a charm spell only for you to humiliate them for their obvious attempt.
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: ̗̀➛ WYLL
“By the hells, you’re immune to magic? That’s one darn good of an advantage to have, especially on a journey such as ours. Though, it's a shame that you’ll never get to see the delights that come with it, you would have loved it, I’m sure!”
He wasn't all too bothered by the fact you couldn't create magic. Some people lived all their lives without using them and they still made fine warriors, why should he judge you?
However, he was completely shocked when he first watched a lightning bolt strike your body only for you to shrug it off. You didn't even have the burn marks that would have came from it.
After figuring out your little situation, he was both deeply fascinated and impressed. There's no way anything is stopping either of you now, not when you are immune to nearly all types of magic.
Be prepared because this man does start to give you ridiculous titles over your unique ability. “The anti-magician”, “The impenetrable magic consumer”, it gets worse and worse but it's making you both laugh.
Yet, what he does find quite concerning is the number of times he's witnessed your other companions use you as a personal test dummy in terms of magic-based attacks. He’s always quick to grab you out of those situations even though you were mostly okay with it.
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: ̗̀➛ GALE
“Immune to magic? Truly? Are you telling me a particularly powerful sorcerer could cast a tremendously potent necrotic spell on you and you’d just... Stand there… with not so much as a bruise? Are you certain you’re from this plane of existence-”
What in the fuck <— His initial reaction lmao
He’s never even seen anything that could resist most if not all magic, even worse that you can't even seem to make it yourslf.
He’s spent the majority of his life so heavily involved with magic and the weave that he could hardly see himself without it, better yet, he doesn't even understand how you live so mundanely.
Heck! Even lower-class citizens could learn magic if not already know how to cast a basic spell or two. Now he has a hundred different questions running through his head and you could probably only answer half of them.
Perhaps he even suspected that you may have just used a multitude of potions of resistance on yourself to turn out this way but if so, the effects should have worn off by now.
Either way, he’s bewildered by you. Intensely interested in how this situation of yours came to be and if there is truly a limit to what magic you can resist. Though, trust that he won't try to experiment on you for himself.
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: ̗̀➛ HALSIN
“Ah, though I understand the loss of seizing the art of magic for oneself is rather unfortunate, this only means that perhaps a far more naturalistic path awaits you. One I hope brings nothing but joy and aid in our journey ahead.”
Pleasantly surprised but also curious about it all. When you say all magic do you truly mean all? And if he were to bring a magical flame near your skin, would you feel it's warmth?
Though, he doesn't press on the matter too much. However, there are occasions when he has forgotten about your immunity and ends up shielding you from a magical blast you could have easily taken yourself.
Reflexes perhaps. He’s fairly used to jumping in to protect those he cares for and he does get a tad bit embarrassed over the fact that your magic immunity slipped his mind once or twice due to his own impulses.
Though worry not if magical healing spells or potions don't work on you! He knows plenty of natural ways to heal your wounds. Though it will take significantly longer.
Regardless, he's happy to be of service to you, even teaching you some ways to use herbs and the fauna around you to make a quick remedy to all sorts of wounds so you won't have to ever struggle as much as you did before.
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devildom-moss · 4 months
Text
Words to break their hearts
Have some headcanons about what MC could say that would break the characters' (minus Luke's) heart.
(Angst)
Lucifer
"I trusted you more than anyone. I guess that just made it easier for you to let me down."
Mammon
"I loved you so much, but after everything, it doesn’t feel worth it."
Leviathan
"I tried so hard to love you, but you kept fighting me back every time. I wanted to fight for you – not against you."
Satan
"I don’t understand you. You keep trying to be perfect and proper. I don’t even recognize you, and I can’t keep trying to unmask you."
Asmodeus
"You’re so beautiful that you blind anyone who tries to look at you. I saw you, and I don’t want to look anymore. It hurts."
Beelzebub
"You’ll consume anything to feel better, won’t you? One day, I won’t be able to stop you, so I’d rather get out of the way now."
Belphegor
"It’s draining to be around you, and I don’t have anything left to give."
Diavolo
"I believe in you, and I know you’ll succeed one day. I just can’t stand by your side while you do it. I don’t want to bear witness."
Barbatos
"You tried. I know you did, but I feel like I’ve wasted so much time waiting around for you. I wish I was more patient, but I’m not."
Simeon
"Why do you think sacrificing yourself will make everything work out? This isn’t one of your books. You can’t make it all okay because it’s a better story."
Solomon
"I know you weigh the lives of your loved ones with the human world, and I know that you use the fact that I’m human to rationalize with yourself that no matter who you save, I’d be a part of it. It’s not true. It’s possible you won’t choose me, just like it’s possible I won’t choose you."
Thirteen
"When my flame starts to go out, let it. When my soul starts to disappear, let it. I don’t want you to keep it."
Raphael
"I was so worried I would corrupt you this whole time. I never expected you would ruin me. I’ll always see you as an angel of destruction. That’s all you know how to do."
Mephistopheles
"I’m sorry. I knew how you felt, and I still loved you more than anyone. I wanted to understand you, but not like this."
Fluff version:
(Words to melt their hearts)
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wren-of-the-woods · 11 months
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Curse Fic Recs
I absolutely love Witcher fics where a character gets cursed so I thought I'd share some of my favorites! All of them are Geraskier except for a few Lambden ones at the end.
If anyone has other fics to reccommend, please feel free to give them a shoutout – I’d love to read them!
~
Cursed Jaskier
A Friend in the Wild by @samstree (Rated T, 1k)
In which Geralt acquires a tiny mouse friend who wouldn't stop following him.
If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22k)
A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.
My Name is Hidden On Your Tongue by @anarchycox (Rated T, 10k)
Jaskier is cursed. Well his whole family line is. Every male born child cannot be named. They can be given a name, but it will never be a true one and people will always have an allergic reaction to saying this false name. Only a soulmate speaking your true name aloud will break the curse. The family though has never cared, they've only cared about the family fortune and marrying well. But Jaskier cares. He is determined to travel the world, find his soulmate and learn what his name is. And the best way to travel the world seems to be with a rather taciturn witcher named Geralt of Rivia. If he started to hope that Geralt would be the one to say his true name, well that was one thing that Jaskier would not say aloud.
The Cursed Jewels of Lettenhove by GoldenDaydreams (Rated T, 8k)
Geralt has no intention of getting involved with breaking a curse and naturally ends up very involved.
Silver and Copper by @heronfem (Rated M, 56k)
Jaskier is kept from becoming a bard. Geralt finds him anyway.
Priceless by @handwrittenhello (Rated M, 38k)
Jaskier was cursed as a child; when spilled, his blood turns to rubies and his tears turn to diamonds. When his secret is discovered, Geralt must save him from those who would take advantage of it. Together they work to break the curse, but the cost might end up being too steep.
Set My Wings on Fire by bilboakenshield27 (Not Rated, 4k)
Jaskier gets turned into a bird and has to warn Geralt about an ambush.
Sleep of the Dead by @dancedelion (Rated T, 20k)
Jaskier thinks he hit rock bottom when Geralt flushed twenty years of friendship down the drain, but then he finds himself suddenly translucent and rudely walked through by a traveller. Apparently he's dead - that's certainly a new low. He needs to find out what happened, and who better to help him than the man who's made more than clear he wants nothing to do with him.
The Sandpiper by @welcomemysentence (Rated T, 2k)
When Jaskier gets cursed into an actual sandpiper, the little coast bird, the only way to save him is with true love's kiss.
What's Engraved Upon My Heart (In Letters Deeply Worn) by @made-of-constellations-blog (Rated T, 6k)
Jaskier gets cursed to be a lark with a strange failsafe to turn him back. Geralt misses this, and realizes too late that he's not ready to lose his bard.
to be held by @wanderlust-t (Rated T, 1k)
The knife dropped on the ground. And Geralt’s thoughts reached to a halt for a moment. He had no rope. Not anything to keep Jaskier still. To hold him back. Oh. That was going to be a really long night.
Catskier by @al-in-my-head (Rated T, 17k)
Due to an unfortunate encounter with a mage while him and Geralt are apart, Jaskier is transformed into a cat. It just so happens that Geralt likes talking to animals.
~
Cursed Geralt
A Marvelous Night for a Moondance by @flowercrown-bard (Rated T, 1k)
There was a warning every child living near Oakwood Valley knew. "Don't go out at night, or you'll disturb the Moonlit Dancer." No one truly knew who the Moonlit Dancer was, but everyone agreed on two things: The Dancer must be dangerous. And he must be oh so lonely.
animal instinct by leodesic (Rated M, 13k)
Despite Jaskier's hard work, there are still plenty of people who hate witchers. They think they're monstrous, inhuman, only held back from violence by a thin veneer of control. One mage has a plan to spread his views by capturing a witcher and bewitching them to remove their control. When the Butcher of Blaviken walks into his hideout, he's convinced he's found the perfect candidate - and a convenient way to get rid of the pesky bard that's been singing his praises. Jaskier is forced to agree witchers are not human, but that doesn't mean they're dangerous. In fact, he's astounded by how many of Geralt's uncontrolled impulses involve touching.
Connecting dots by @dapandapod (Rated G, 3k)
Geralt is hit with a lying curse, and it takes Jaskier an embarrassing amount of time to figure it out. Now, it Jaskier only would stick to the safe questions....
Don't Go Stealing My Heart by @thesilverqueenlady (Rated T, 17k)
When Jaskier is stiffed by a lord on payment, he decides to help himself to proper compensation. Alongside the correct amount of gold and silver, he also steals a beautiful silver wolf's head medallion. It's safe to say that he is not expecting the medallion to be haunted by the spirit of a very grumpy, very handsome, very cursed Witcher.
Cuddles, Curses, and Confusion by me :D (Rated T, 3k)
Geralt becomes oddly affectionate after being cursed by a mage. Jaskier would just like his life to be less complicated, please.
Spectre's Soul also by me :D (Rated T, 31k)
When Jaskier tried to go on a date with a man named Rience, he did not expect to nearly be killed. He certainly did not expect to discover a beautiful valley while running away from him. He very definitely did not expect to find out that the valley was haunted — by an absurdly beautiful man. Or: In which Geralt is cursed to be a ghost and Jaskier is the first person in decades to talk to him.
~
Cursed Aiden
Headache at First Sight by YorkAndDelta (Rated T, 12k)
A story of how Lambert ends up looking after a cursed cat, helping a Witcher from a rival school retrieve his gear from angry mages, and maybe finds love along the way.
~
Cursed Lambert
the mortifying ordeal of being known as a cat by @skaldingrayne Rated M, 10k
Lambert is cursed to be a cat. Fortunately, he finds Jaskier.
~
You can find my other reclists here!
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brcnze · 30 days
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but even after this, you’re still everything to me.
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a/n: im not hugely keen on this but thought i’d post it anyway! i hate this luna fic drought we’re all in so much so here’s my contribution hehe! i’ve also only roughly read it through so please ignore any mistakes.
word count: 7.4k
but even after this, you’re still everything to me.
Everything was a constant reminder of her; the matching toothbrush that shared a home beside her own, the golden smiley face necklace that she had given her as a present because it reminded her of her smile, the excessive amount of half empty condiments still in the fridge, the little westie she saw every day after training and whom still got excited to see her. 
Lucy was gone, but the memory of her was far from that. 
It had been a grand total of six months since the defender had transferred to her new club. Six months since Ona had felt truly happy. She felt silly really, their relationship had started off as long distance and it was overly common to have to deal with it at some point being a sportsperson. 
However, after living the dream life with Lucy for an entire season and becoming so accustomed to having her by her side day and night it utterly broke her when she left. It broke them. 
She didn’t blame Lucy, she couldn’t. The defender had wanted to extend her contract with Barça but unfortunately wasn’t offered a renewal. The pair had cried many tears together when they learnt the news, less than ready to face being apart yet again. They spent evenings upon evenings going through offers that Lucy had received and weighing out the pros and cons. 
In the end, Lucy settled on Bayern. She had offers worldwide, everyone unsurprisingly jumping at the chance to sign the talented right-back. However, Germany was the closest she could be to Ona and although swearing she would always put her career first, Ona was now her priority. 
The day the older woman had left, the last time she closed the door to what had been their shared apartment, she had taken off with a promise. She promised Ona that they would be okay, that she would visit whenever she could and that she would never give up on them. 
She kept that promise. Messaging and facetiming Ona at every opportunity, finding as many gaps in her schedule as she could just to fly over to see her, but Ona wasn’t strong enough. The younger woman couldn’t cope with the distance, she’d had a taste of a life with Lucy and having it ripped from underneath her sent her into self sabotage. 
Lucy wasn’t stupid, she knew Ona like the back of her hand and so the change in her demeanour was picked up by her instantly. 
“Is everything okay?” 
Ona looked at her through the screen, the beautiful eyes she loved more than anything filled with nothing but concern. She went to nod, pretend that everything was fine, but it wasn’t and Lucy knew it too.
“I can’t do this anymore.” 
The break up was filled with tears. None of the breakups the spaniard had been through had been pleasant, but this was so different. They were both still so deeply in love with the other, they wanted it to work but had both come to the conclusion that they were putting one another through more harm than good. 
Lucy was the woman that Ona wanted to spend the rest of her life with. She knew that from day one, but for some reason the clouded thoughts in her brain persuaded her that it would be easier to give it all up rather than fight for it. It was completely out of character for Ona to just give up this easily, but she had never experienced a love like this and love makes you do crazy things. 
She spent the rest of the night crying in bed, using Coco as a source of comfort. She didn’t think she could possibly feel anymore shitty until her phone pinged with a message, her heart physically breaking at its contents. 
I promise this is the last time i will contact you, but i just had to say this before i let you go.The two years i got to call you mine were easily the best years of my life. I’ll never find another like you Ona Batlle and i hope more than anything that one day we find our way back to eachother. Thank you for everything. I love you, always.
Your Lucia. 
They hadn’t spoken since. 
Everyone told her it would get better after that, or somewhat easier. It never did. It had been months since the breakup and although she was able to force a smile onto her face at training, the facade instantly slipped as soon as she got a minute alone. 
The team were at dinner together after being away for international break. Ona being forcefully dragged out by Mariona against her will after insisting she wanted to stay home. She loved being around her teammates, but the thought of socialising with anyone now aside from her dog felt utterly challenging. 
She was sat beside Keira throughout the meal, not missing the concerned glances the ginger would give her every now and again. The spaniard envied Keira in a way, her being the only one on the team who got to see Lucy somewhat regularly. Tossing around a piece of chicken on her fork, she couldn’t help but allow temptation to get the better of her and ask the question on the front of her mind. 
“How is she?” 
Keira turned to face Ona, her eyes immediately softening as she took in her broken expression. 
“She asked me the same question.” 
The ginger smiled sadly, not forgetting the same sad look that was on Lucy’s face when she too asked how Ona was doing. 
“Her and Georgia are thick as thieves now they play on the same team, but you should really message her yourself. I know it would make her smile from ear to ear because she’s missing you an awful lot.” 
Ona hated the way her heart picked up upon hearing that last part. She thought she should be moving on, but it was impossible.
The midfielder didn’t miss the hopeful glint in her eye upon hearing how much Lucy missed her. Some may say it was odd how much care Keira had for her ex girlfriend and her ex girlfriends ex, but she couldn’t deny they were perfect for one another. Herself and Lucy had ended on the best terms possible and she and Ona had made her feel more than comfortable when they all played on the same team, actually forming a genuine friendship that they all valued.
“Long distance is hard, but it really is worth it if you love them enough. I wish more than anything that i got to see Laura everyday but everytime i do get to see her i’m reminded of why i do it.” 
The spaniard let out a sigh, grateful for Keira’s kindness but also filled with the thoughts that she wasn’t strong enough to cope with it. She didn’t want to be the reason that her and Lucy both always felt an emptiness when they were apart.
“Thank you, Keira. She would be worth it, of course she would, but i’m just not as strong as you are.” 
Keira wanted to argue it, convince Ona that she was indeed strong enough and that the heart ache would never actually go away if she just gave up. However, she also knew that Ona didn’t need to hear that right now, opting to just squeeze her shoulder and offer her a sad smile.
So, for the remainder of the football season Ona did her best to push her sadness to the back of her mind. There was no way she was going to be getting back into the dating scene, that wouldn’t be fair on her or a potential partner. Instead, she focused on finding things that made her happy again and partook in less moping around. She busied herself with old and new hobbies that she found she enjoyed and worked on her ever awful baking skills all the way up until the final match. 
Her teammates noticed the change in her, and although the tinge of sadness never quite left, they were overjoyed to get a slice of their happy friend back. The euros were also fast approaching, and having played her last game of the 24/25 season Ona was feeling as ready as ever to play for her country. 
The tournament was being held in Switzerland, and having visited a few times already Ona was excited to return to the beautiful country. Amongst the excitement of it all, the spaniard hadn’t even thought twice about the fact that Spain obviously weren’t going to be the only country in attendance. It wasn’t until she was sat on the plane next to one of her best friends, Salma, that the realisation hit her like a ton of bricks.
“You think you’re going to be okay, Oni?” 
Ona had given her a questioning look, taking out an airpod to try and gauge what she was referring to. 
“Seeing Lucy again and everything.” 
That’s when it hit her. 
She’d tried to force herself to stop thinking about Lucy as much. She attempted the classic out of sight, out of mind approach and although it hadn’t worked and she still thought about her every single damn minute, she hadn’t actually taken into consideration the fact they were going to be more than likely less than five minutes down the road from one another for the next few weeks. 
They hadn’t ended on bad terms at all, the last message Ona received from the english woman being nothing but adorable. However, that didn’t prevent the nervous feeling growing in her tummy at the idea of seeing the woman she loved so dearly after so many months. 
“I hadn’t actually thought about it.” 
Salma noticed the way her friend was nervously picking at her nails now, placing her hand atop to offer some comfort. 
“It will be fine, you don’t need to worry. It’s not like it’s going to be awkward between you or anything.” 
For the remaining duration of the flight, Ona couldn’t help but allow her mind to spiral about what seeing Lucy again would be like. She was excited in a way, she missed the older woman more than she ever knew it was possible to miss a human, but she also was filled with nerves. 
Herself and Lucy had always struggled to stay away from one another. They were like magnets from the day they met, drawn to one another instantly when in close enough proximity. It was one of the things that made Ona realise just how deep her love for her was, never before being a very physical person. 
The spaniard allowed her mind to wander all the way up until she reached her hotel room. The girls all got their own rooms now, which she appreciated for the privacy but also missed the company. 
Ona collapsed straight onto the white sheets and as soon as she unlocked her phone, almost immediately found herself mindlessly scrolling through Lucy’s instagram, something she definitely didn’t do on the regular, and smiling to herself at the pictures. Lucy was the most beautiful woman on the planet in her eyes and she couldn’t help but want to appreciate that.
As she scrolled down a little further, she came across her favourite collections of photos. During their relationship they both had agreed to keep it private, but not a secret. So, something they both had enjoyed doing frequently was complying pictures for a photo dump that gave the teeniest subtle hints of the other. 
They resembled school girls whenever they’d hit the post button, giggling away to each other about the hidden meanings behind each photo they had chosen. 
As she refreshed the page, scrolling back up to the top, she came across a new photo she hadn’t seen before. It had been posted only twenty seconds ago and showed Lucy, grinning widely at the camera as she stepped off a plane. Ona missed that smile more than anything, not being able to stop herself from zooming in to get a closer look at her favourite eyes. She missed looking into them without the preventative barrier of a screen more than anything. However, what she definitely didn’t intend to do at all was like the photo. 
As soon as the red heart splayed across the screen, she froze. 
“Mierda!” 
She muttered to herself, shutting off her phone instantly. It really wasn’t that big of a deal. All she’d done was press the like button, but knowing it was  after only twenty seconds of being posted made her internally cringe. 
She wasn’t a huge instagram user at the best of times, only really going on there to promote games or post a few photos herself. She rarely ever liked posts and Lucy knew that. It had become a weird sort of game for them both, Lucy knowing that if she ever received a like from Ona it meant that the spaniard had really, really enjoyed the photo. 
After a few minutes of cursing herself, face buried into her hands, she felt her phone buzzing multiple times from underneath the pillow she had shoved on top of it. 
Lucy Bronze liked your post. 
Lucy Bronze liked your post. 
Lucy Bronze liked your post.
She knows she shouldn’t but Ona couldn’t help the smug smile that wiped across her face. She’d been in the same country as Lucy for approximately an hour and already she couldn’t keep away. 
She stared at the collection of notifications, knowing Lucy knew exactly what she was doing and contemplated messaging her. She was weighing up the pros and cons in her head before she finally came to the conclusion of…fuck it. 
Stalker.
She kept it short and a reply came almost instantly. 
If i remember correctly it was you who liked my post first, within a minute of it being posted may i also add. 
You looked nice. 
She was feeling brave, eagerly anticipating Lucy's response and not being disappointed when it came through. 
So did you.
The spaniard hovered her fingers over the keys, preparing what she wanted to say next when her phone began to ring with a facetime request. She knew who it was before even reading the ‘Lucia’ followed by a pink heart, that flashed up. Ona knew it was a bad idea to answer the call, but it was a bad idea to send her a message in the first place, so to hell with it. 
As the screen filled with Lucy, she opened her mouth to speak but was immediately silenced by the sight. The defender had her hair down and splaying across her shoulders, her glasses resting perfectly on the bridge of her nose, a content smile on her lips. She must’ve noticed Ona’s trance as what was a smile turned into a smirk and she took the words right out of her mouth. 
“I’ve missed seeing your face.” 
Ona blushed at that, mirroring the smirk that Lucy was giving her. 
“You are in Switzerland now, too?” 
Lucy nodded, “We arrived a couple hours ago. How have you been?” 
The pair spoke for hours, but it felt like minutes. Everything always felt so easy with Lucy, and Ona had missed the lighthearted conversations they would share. It was nice to talk to someone and not feel like she was pretending for once. Lucy could tell just by the younger girls' mannerisms that she wasn’t totally herself and she too wasn’t totally herself either. Neither woman had been since the day they had broken up. 
Lucy had craved seeing Onas smile for months, but the fact it didn’t quite reach her eyes anymore didn’t go unnoticed by her. She kept pressing her on whether she was really doing okay, and upon being met with an unconvincing nod for the third time she asked her to see her tomorrow. 
Ona was sceptical at first, knowing that she would likely break down at some point if she was to see Lucy. However, the opportunity was unlikely to become available again anytime soon so she had to grab it with both hands. She chose to ignore how impossibly further back that would set her on her attempts at moving on, and she honestly couldn’t bring herself to care.
“You’re really up for meeting tomorrow, yeah?” 
Lucy questioned, a little taken aback that Ona had actually agreed. 
“Si, i would really like to.” 
After saying goodnight to Lucy, Ona couldn’t quite comprehend the fact that she would be seeing her tomorrow. She tossed and turned in the hotel bed, thinking about how long it had been and what she was actually going to say to her. 
When realisation had hit her on the plane earlier that day that they’d be in the same place, she didn’t think for even a second that tomorrow she’d be willingly meeting up with her. Just the two of them. 
The thought of being next to her and not being able to call her love, rest her head in the crook of her neck, trace the outline of her wrist tattoo the way she loved, kiss her senseless seemed impossible. She and Lucy had been drawn to each other from day one, never ever being just friends and always being one hundred times more than that. However, she would have been a fool to turn down her offer after craving just her presence for so many months. 
It’s safe to say she went to sleep with Lucy, and Lucy only on her mind that night. 
Ona was convinced she had never gotten up and ready faster in her life the next morning. Herself and Lucy had agreed to grab coffee and just go for a stroll around a local park, close to both of their hotels. It was crazy to think that they actually used to do this most days together, and it was now that Ona realised how much she took the most simple of things for granted. 
She didn’t plan on telling anyone that she was going to meet Lucy, not wanting to answer any unwanted questions. However, the ridiculously wide smile for only eight in the morning didn’t go unmissed by Mariona. 
“What’s got you so smiley chica?” 
Ona turned to give her a small shrug. 
“Just excited for tomorrow’s game.” 
Mariona narrowed her eyes, not believing a single word. 
“I know that smile. That’s your Lucy smile, have you seen her?” 
The brunettes eyes widened. She loved how close she was with her teammates, but the fact they could analyse her moods this in depth and with such little information made her wish they didn’t know her quite so well. 
“How did you kn-“ 
Mariona cut her off. 
“You’ve been a lot happier these past few weeks Oni, but we can all tell it’s a little false. You haven’t looked as happy as you do this morning since Lucy left Barça. Now you’re in the same country and suddenly you’re like the gato de Cheshire!” 
Ona sighed in defeat, there was no way she could argue with that. 
“Okay fine, you got me. But i haven’t seen her yet. I’m meeting her after breakfast and it’s just as friends, sadly.” 
The forwards grin widened even more, impressed with her ability to guess correctly and also happy that two of her best friends would be reuniting again. 
“Do you think it’s a bad idea though? I want to see her so badly but i’m…scared.” 
Mariona met her with a sympathetic smile, grasping her hand that was nervously picking at her t-shirt. 
“There’s no need to be nervous, guapa. I know, we all know, how much you have been missing her and this is the greatest opportunity. Besides, you and Lucy will get back together one day. I know everything, remember.” 
Ona let out a huff of a laugh, shaking her head as she got up to scrape the remnants of her breakfast into the bin. 
“Gracias, Mario.”
“Don’t have too much fun, Oni. Oh and when you’re done with her tell her i’d like to see her too!” 
Mariona called out after her as the spaniard made her way outside with a fond chuckle and a ‘si lo que sea.’ 
As Ona made her way outside, she stood by the fir tree tucked around the corner from the Spanish girls hotel. She and Lucy had agreed to meet there and so she busied herself with scrolling through her emails she had neglected whilst she waited. She had so many feelings. She was nervous and excited all at the same time, but thankfully the anticipation was cut short as a deep, familiar voice called out to her. 
“Ona?” 
Her head snapped up at the English accent, emails immediately forgotten. 
As soon as she looked into those beautiful eyes properly for the first time again in too many months she felt as though she could turn into a human puddle. 
“Hola, Lucia.” 
Lucy smiled at the nickname, all the feelings she had been desperately trying to keep bottled up spilling out. She let out a deep sigh as she took in the woman in front of her. 
“Wow, i- i can’t believe you’re here.” 
Ona mirrored her smile, nodding her head in the direction of the park to begin their walk together. 
They chatted non-stop about anything and everything, never once enduring any type of awkward silence and everything felt just like it had many months ago. Lucy brought them
both a coffee, ordering exactly what she knew Ona liked and ignoring the spaniards insistence on paying. 
As they carried on, coffees in hand the pair reached a bench in a secluded area, opting to sit down for a while. 
“So, how is it at Bayern?” 
“It’s okay. The girls are lovely, it’s nice to have Georgia there as a familiar face, but i miss being in Barcelona a lot.” 
“I bet you just miss the sun.” 
Lucy let out a chuckle at that, knowing how much Ona used to tease her that she was more English than her as Lucy was always such a baby whenever the temperature dropped below twenty five degrees. 
“Well that’s a big part of it, yeah. All it does is bloody rain in Germany, but I also miss the food, the views, Narla, the girls…you.” 
Ona’s breath hitched a little. It felt as though she and Lucy had silently agreed not to divulge into their feelings, but knowing she missed her made her heart beat that little bit extra. 
She looked her dead in the eye, her own eyes softening at the small expression on her face. The spaniard couldn’t help but reach her petite hand out and place it on Lucy's knee and as if by reflex, Lucy’s hand came to rest on top of Ona’s. 
“I miss you too, Lucia.” 
Ona swallowed deeply, looking down at their hands as Lucy began to rub small circles across her knuckles. It took every strength within her body to restrain herself from leaning forward and attaching their lips, so instead of doing that she tried to divert the conversation in a different direction. 
“So, you don’t have a new girlfriend then?” 
The Englishwoman let out a rumbly laugh at the question, deeming it as absolutely ridiculous. 
“Don’t be stupid, course i don’t.” 
“Well good, i was just checking.” 
“Good? Why, what would you have done if i’d said yes?” 
Lucy was smirking at her, the smirk that almost always had Ona on her knees. 
“Tell her to, how you say? Back the fuck off.” 
She knew she should tone down on the flirting, only setting herself up for more pain in the near future. But when Lucy was looking at her like that with that smirk on her face she simply couldn’t help herself. 
“That’s hot” Lucy murmured. 
Ona couldn’t wipe the grin off of her face, not missing the way Lucy was now trailing her fingertips up her arm. Until, all of a sudden reality came crashing down on her. 
It was almost like for a split second she’d forgotten about the fact they weren’t actually together anymore, they’d fallen back into their usual ways the second they’d reunited and it was only now that Ona had to remind herself the woman beside her wasn’t hers anymore. 
“Hey, you okay?” 
Lucy asked, evidently concerned as the spaniards smile had faltered and her eyes had filled with sudden sadness. 
Ona nodded, trying but failing to keep the thick hot tear that now trickled down her cheek at bay. 
“Woah, woah what’s the matter?” 
The defenders eyes widened, her hand immediately coming up to rest on the small of her back. The sudden change in Onas mood scared her beyond belief, there was nothing she hated more than seeing her in any sort of discomfort. 
“It, it’s just-“ 
She began, stuttering her way through the answer. 
“For a second it was like I completely forgot.” 
“Forgot about what?” 
Lucy questioned, her voice soft and hand never stopping it’s comforting movements across the small back. 
“That we aren’t us anymore. I’ve only been with you for no more than an hour and it already feels like the old times again.” 
Ona let out a long, shaky breath, desperately rubbing at her now reddened eyes to stop the tears. As she blinked her way through them, her vision becoming a tiny bit clearer, she focused on Lucy, and the way she was looking at her as if she was the only thing that mattered sent another fresh pang across her heart. 
“Oh, sweetheart.” 
The lioness pulled her into her chest, Ona not even trying to fight it and allowing her head to rest there. She sniffled into Lucy’s training shirt, relishing in the familiar smell of her perfume as she allowed herself to calm down in the embrace. 
“It’s so hard, so fucking hard. You have no idea how much I miss you every single day.” 
Lucy whispered as she stroked her hair, scratching at her scalp lightly in the way she knew always brought her comfort. 
The two women made no attempt to move for a good few minutes, Ona’s sobs finally subsiding as she chose to fully focus on the way Lucy's fingers felt brushing through her hair. She lifted her head from the comfy spot on her chest, sitting back against the bench as Lucy’s eyes followed her with concern. 
“Lo siento. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 
“No, it’s good to talk about your feelings. You can’t bottle them up all the time, it’s not good for you.” 
Ona looked at the ground, not being able to meet Lucy’s eyes again. Her willpower was declining and she knew that as soon she looked at her face again, she would be pressing her lips against said face. 
“I need to go.” 
“Already?”
Ona nodded, standing up from her spot and any glimmer of hope that Lucy had felt was immediately gone. 
“Please don’t just walk away from this, we’re both hurting Ona and it’s not just going to go away.” 
The broken tone in Lucy’s voice made her feel all different types of guilt. Deep down she knew she was being stupid. She could get back with Lucy and feel ten times happier, but there was something inside her convincing her she would just be putting them both through pain. 
“I’m sorry but I think this was a mistake.” 
She walked away without another look back, tears spilling down her cheeks as the sad look on the Englishwoman's face was etched into her mind. Nothing was ever a mistake with Lucy, the only thing being her own actions. 
As soon as she entered her hotel, heading straight for the lift she was spotted by Mariona. 
“Ay, Ona! Esperar!” 
Her teammate called out, chasing after her with a grin on her face that quickly turned into confusion upon seeing her tear stained face.
“I messed it all up, it was going so well and then I just freaked.” 
Ona was a blubbering mess as Mariona followed her into the lift. She pulled her into her embrace, rocking her side to side and tried to provide her with the reassurance she needed. 
“Come on Oni, tell me what happened.”
Hours had passed and Ona was still trying to explain the internal battle that was going on in her head. Mariona was being so kind, carefully listening to the explanation and offering the best advice she could muster up. 
“Do you really not think making it work long distance is an option? You both love each other chica, and that’s how you started this.” 
“I know and I feel so stupid. So many people have to do it, you do it. I think i’m just craving the old life we had.” 
Mariona nodded in understanding. 
“I understand, but it is important to remember that it’s not forever. I miss Lia all the time, but I know that one day we will have the life together we always talk about.”
Ona smiled a little at that, suddenly feeling terrible for rambling on and not asking about her friend's life more often. 
“How is Lia?” 
“Buena. I’m glad i finally get to spend some time with her here, it makes it all worth it.”
Ona couldn’t help but remember back to her conversation with Keira a few months ago, the ginger saying the exact same thing. The two friends continued their conversation way into the night, both reminiscing on the time both Lia and Lucy had come to watch them play in the nations league final. The spaniard was so grateful to have friends as understanding as her team mates.
Spains first game was the next day and they absolutely flew through it, just like they did the whole tournament really. The euros went by so fast and before she knew it, Ona was preparing for the final game. The final game that was against none other than England. It was like des ja vu for the whole team, except this time around Ona wasn’t giddily messaging her girlfriend the morning before. 
After her conversation with Mariona, she had decided not to message Lucy again during the tournament. She had wanted to, felt the need to apologise for the way she took off with barely an explanation. However, she also didn’t want to mess with her head during such a big competition, and figured it would be easier for both of them to have their full focus on getting a win for their country. She had decided she wanted to make a go of it though, nothing could be worse than the feeling she already felt every day. She just hoped and prayed that she wasn’t too late. 
As soon as the Spanish team arrived at the stadium they were ushered out onto the pitch to perform their pitch inspection. The England team were already out there and before Ona could even search for Lucy she was being dragged into a hug by Ella. 
“Ona! I’ve missed ya.” 
The strong northern accent boomed, still never being able to pronounce her name correctly. 
“Ah, Tooney. It has been too long.” 
Ona replied as she felt herself being slowly lifted off of the ground by the girls strong hug. They caught up for a few minutes, Ona spending most of it in hysterics over whatever Ella was talking about. Until the inevitable question came up. 
“You gonna go speak to Bronzey?” 
Ona sighed, looking across the grass where she finally found the woman in question. She was chatting to Alexia and Laia, donning a wide smile that Ona wished she was the cause of. 
“Si, i will actually. It was nice seeing you though and good luck tonight.” 
Ella ruffled her hair before making her way over to Lucia, deciding it was time to pester her now and once she disappeared Ona looked back over at Lucy to find her now alone, scrolling on her phone. 
She took a deep breath and made her way over, stopping right in front of her. 
“Hola.” 
Lucy looked up from her phone, swallowing deeply as she met her eye. 
“Oh, hey.” 
It was colder than Ona was used to, colder than it had been when she’d seen her only a few weeks ago. 
“How are you?” 
Lucy nodded, “Im fine. You?” 
The spaniard couldn’t hide the hurt on her face now and just simply nodded. She had never been spoken to by Lucy this bluntly before and she instantly felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. 
“I missed you.” 
She desperately tried, hoping Lucy would give her something back. She could see the slight break in her demeanour after that, her eyes somewhat softening if only a tiny bit. 
“Good luck tonight.” 
Was Lucy’s response and as she tried to make her way past her, Ona grabbed her hand. Lucy looked down at the grip Ona now had on her wrist, almost breaking at the way her thumb cascaded across it gently. 
“Please, don’t be like this.” 
“Like what, Ona? You’ve made it perfectly clear we can’t be together so I don't know how you want me to act?” 
There were tears filling in the spaniards eyes now, unable to look anywhere but Lucy but feeling her heart break even more at the hushed way she was shouting at her.
“Im sorry that i ran off the other week. I was scared, Lucy and i didn’t want to hurt either of us anymore than i already have. I just want-“ 
She was cut off by the whistle, summoning both teams back inside. 
“Please, just let me explain after the game.” 
Lucy looked down at the way Ona still had a hold of her wrist and then back up to meet her eyes, nodding slowly before she had to walk away and rejoin her England team mates.
Ona let out a deep breath she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding as she walked her way back into the changing rooms. She didn’t really know what she expected, but it definitely wasn’t that. The younger girl couldn’t blame Lucy for being distant with her, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when the one thing she wanted more than anything in the world was Lucy. 
When the teams lined up side by side in the tunnel, Ona couldn’t help but turn around to look at Lucy. Though when she turned and found her eyes already on her, she wished she hadn’t as how was she supposed to concentrate on the game now? 
It was even worse when she made her way down the line to give hand shakes and high fives to the England team. When she got to Lucy, last as always, she couldn’t help but hold onto her hand for a second longer than what was probably deemed acceptable. 
Lucy gave her hand a small squeeze, and there was evidence of a tiny smile growing at the corners of her mouth as she mouthed ‘im sorry.’ This was all the reassurance that Ona needed to go out and play this match. 
Little did Ona know that Jordan had been silently observing their interaction during the pitch inspection. She had questioned Lucy on it as soon as they had taken their seats in the changing room. 
“What was all that about?” 
“What d’you mean?” 
Lucy had responded nonchalantly. 
“All that out there with you and Ona. Why are you giving her the cold shoulder?” 
The defender shrugged, “I'm not.” 
Jordan rolled her eyes, "I'm not as stupid as you think. You’ve been non-stop going on about her since the day you broke up, so why were you acting like that?” 
“Because I love her Jord, okay? I love her and every time I think about her it bloody hurts.” 
The Aston Villa players' face softened, remaining quiet so that Lucy could carry on.
“It hurt me so bad when I last saw her. I thought for a split second there might’ve been a chance but she made it perfectly clear there wasn’t when she upped and left. So, I thought that maybe this time if I was blunt with her, didn’t give her much conversation then I wouldn’t be opening myself up to feeling even more like shit when she inevitably walks away again.” 
Jordan let out a sigh, wrapping her arm supportively around her shoulder. 
“She seemed like she genuinely wanted to talk to you, Luce. I couldn’t hear what she was saying obviously but maybe she’s had some time to think and genuinely wants to give the long distance a go.”
“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know. I told her i’d speak to her after the game so I just need to focus on getting this win first.” 
The game was a tough one to say the least. The world cup champions against the european champions was never going to be a walk in the park, but Ona found she thrived off the intensity. She was playing well, her whole team was playing well and were fuelled by the excitable crowd. However, a last minute goal by Lauren Hemp meant that England had done it for the second time. 
The spaniard laid back on the grass, absolutely exhausted from the ninety six minutes she had just endured. She looked around at all of her team mates, noticing the defeat and sadness in their eyes as they hugged one another. As she looked in the other direction though, she caught sight of the England girls with a much different expression on their faces. They all looked so unbelievably happy, tears shed out of happiness rather than sadness which was a huge contrast to the world cup. 
She immediately caught sight of Lucy, never failing to be impressed by her ability to always pick her out instantly no matter how many people she was mixed in with. She looked happy, so happy, as she lifted Alex into the air and Ona couldn’t help but smile at the sight. 
She hauled herself up off of the pitch, deciding it was best if she went over to console her team mates who had taken the loss particularly hard. Ona was gutted of course, she was as competitive as they came and wanted to win everything she took part in. However, seeing the joy on Lucy’s face eased the disappointment a pretty large amount, which was a fact she would definitely not be sharing with her girls. 
Once she’d done the rounds, giving pats on the back and assuring the team that they did their best she caught sight of a shirtless Lucy standing in front of her. It was safe to say her mouth fell visibly agape as her eyes couldn’t decide whether to fix on the woman’s eyes or her abs. 
“Im sorry.” 
It sounded like a double meaning apology. For the coldness Lucy presented her with earlier, and also for the fact that her team had just beaten Ona’s. She decided to focus on the last part though, if her mind could possibly focus on anything other than the abs staring her right in the face.
She shrugged, “it’s okay, you all deserved it.” 
“So did all of you though, you’re a hard team to beat.” 
Ona smiled a little, enjoying the sight of the well-deserved gold medal that hung proudly around Lucy’s neck. 
“This is for you.” 
Lucy said as she chucked her match worn shirt into Ona’s hands. 
The spaniard couldn’t help the smug smile that wiped across her face. Ever since the world cup final, Ona had held a pretend grudge against Lucy at the fact she gave Mariona her shirt and not her. Mariona and Lucy thought it was hilarious and would tease her about it all the time, but Ona could not for the life of her understand how she wasn’t the one trading shirts with her own girlfriend.
“Oh, you don’t want me to get Mario? So you can trade with her instead?” 
Lucy smirked at her, letting out a huff of a laugh, “well actually, now you come to mention it-“ 
“Don’t you even dare.” 
Ona interrupted, lightly slapping her on the chest. 
She took her own shirt off then, handing it to Lucy as she replaced the Spanish jersey on her body with an England one, adorned with ‘Bronze 2’ on the back. 
The wide eyed look on Lucy's face and the way she scanned her body up and down certainly didn’t go unnoticed by Ona. Who took it upon herself to give a small twirl so she could see the name on the back. 
“Suits me?” 
Lucy had to bite down on her own lip to physically stop herself from drooling. She had just won back to back euros, yet she felt like she’d well and truly hit the jackpot seeing the pretty spaniard with her name on her back. 
She nodded and lightly took a hold of Ona’s arm, discreetly pulling her away from the pitch and down the tunnel away from prying eyes and cameras. Ona didn’t know what was happening, so when she was dragged into an empty medical room she looked at with a confused expression. 
“Im sorry for how I acted with you earlier.” 
Lucy blurted it out fast, as if she was scared if she didn’t say it soon enough Ona would be ripped away from her again. 
“It’s okay, I understand. I didn’t give you an explanation last time and I am sorry for that.” 
Ona looked up at Lucy, delicately intertwining their hands that were dangling by their sides. When she felt Lucy grip on tighter she stepped forward, further into her embrace and reached her other hand up to tilt her chin down to look her in the eye. 
“I want to make this work. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, but it is completely impossible to move on from you.” 
Lucy pulled her impossibly closer as Ona carried on. 
“I get it if I'm too late and you don’t want this but-“ 
The older woman decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She pressed her lips against Ona’s before she could even finish her sentence, the younger girl sighing happily into her mouth. 
Ona reached both her arms up to wrap them around Lucy’s neck, interlinking them at the back to pull their bodies even closer. She let out a deep moan as the older woman pushed her further back against the wall, her strong hand sneaking up the England jersey Ona wore to scratch dully at her abs. 
Ona parted her lips only slightly at the sensation, giving Lucy enough access to slide her tongue into her mouth. The room was filled with heavy breaths and pants, both women’s hands not being able to stop exploring the other's body as they had been deprived for so long. 
Lucy finally managed to pull away from Ona’s mouth, but only to attach her lips to the inviting skin on her neck. She trailed hot, open mouthed kisses all the way up to her favourite spot behind her ear. 
“I want this.” 
She whispered, taking a tiny nip. 
“I want you.” 
Another kiss. 
As the Englishwoman made her way back down to Ona’s jaw they were startled by the door swinging open, forcing them both apart and none other than Mariona walking in. 
“Mierda! ¡Lo siento, chicas!” 
She hurriedly said, hands covering her eyes. 
“You can open your eyes, Mario.” 
Lucy said with a chuckle as the Spanish woman slowly blinked one eye open to check it was safe before removing both of her hands entirely. 
“You see Oni, I told you I knew everything! Oh and congratulations Lucy, I'll come and see you once you’re done…here!” 
Mariona said before winking at Ona and exiting the room. 
Ona let out a huff of a laugh, wrapping her arms tightly around Lucy’s waist as she lay her head on her chest. 
“What was she on about?” 
Lucy questioned, stroking her hands through Ona’s hair as she felt her grin against her chest. 
“Oh, nada.” 
She pulled her head out of Lucy’s chest, looking up at her with a look that could only be described as utter adoration. 
“We are going to alright, aren’t we Lucia?” 
“As long as we’ve got each other we’ll be fine, princesa.” 
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impala-dreamer · 4 months
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Tourniquet - Chapter One
A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards
~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~
Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.
Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works
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All The Damage That This Dark World Does
It had been raining on and off for days and the ground was little more than a muddy expanse that swallowed up the soles of their boots like quicksand. 
The forest was dark and the air rang loud with the requiem of nature. Birds sang low and sad; branches crackled underfoot. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled and the hunters froze. Each set of ears turned towards the sound and eyes darted about while tired minds calculated distances. 
Bobby’s gruff whisper broke through the rain’s symphony. “‘Bout a half a mile east.” 
Dean nodded and Y/N squared her shoulders. 
“And where’s the rest of them?” she asked, tone a little harsher than it needed to be as she glared at the old man. 
Dean shot her a look but she didn’t flinch. Mary shifted uncomfortably between them, not wanting to get involved. 
Bobby adjusted his cap and shrugged. “Gotta be close. They’re hunting us as sure as we’re hunting them.” 
She sighed. “So which way do we go? I’d rather not run right into the pack.” 
Dean cleared his throat and cocked a brow her way. She wasn’t going to let up and he knew it. 
“Why don’t we split up,” he suggested, looking at Bobby and his mother. “You guys go south, we’ll keep heading west.” 
Mary nodded. “OK. Just stay safe.” She smiled and Y/N half returned it. 
Bobby huffed. “You two be careful and holler if you get in trouble.” 
Y/N rolled her eyes and set off before Dean could spin around. 
“Why are you such a bitch to him?” he asked, easily catching up to her with his long stride. 
“You know why.” She swatted at a low hanging branch and groaned. “That’s not Bobby and it’s fucking creepy.” 
Dean laughed at her. “It is Bobby-” 
“Not my Bobby.” 
He sighed. “You get used to it.” 
“No thanks.” 
Another howl, this time closer and followed by another. 
Y/N stood still and tall, listening with her entire being. Dean came up behind her and she held a finger to her lips, ordering him to be silent. 
The earth was damp. The fallen autumn leaves were too wet to make a sound, but she heard the squelch of mud as a creature ran through it. The being gained speed, and the wind picked up, chilling their faces as sure as the adrenaline prickled their skin. 
She nodded towards his right and Dean raised his pistol, gripping it tight and following the line of sight into the dank woods. He squinted and a mess of black, matted fur moved behind the trees. 
“Shit.” 
Y/N flipped off the safety on her gun and steadied herself. She took a breath, gave him a wink and set off to the left. 
He knew her well enough to understand the plan without conversing, and Dean moved off to the right. They’d wrap around in a circle and meet behind the beast, hopefully catching it off guard and raining silver down upon it. 
It was a good plan. Solid. Proven. 
Y/N moved swiftly through the trees, careful to tread lightly through the muck and avoid the fallen soldiers of the wood. The rain picked up and with the distance now between them, she lost sight of Dean, but she wasn’t too worried. They were professionals, after all. 
Another few yards and the tree line gave way to a clearing. Y/N wondered for a moment if she’d gotten turned around in the forest, but her internal compass told her she was going the right way. 
A wolf’s cry made her sure.  
The grass was tall and free, untouched by blades or trampled by tires. She pushed through the weeds and a flash of memory struck her. 
The sweet smell of spring; the tickle of grass against her cheek. Rusted metal and chrome gleaming in the sun. The smell of burgers burning on charcoal. Perfect green eyes. 
Y/N shivered at the sensory overload and blinked into the clearing. She was taller than the grass now and so much older than her days in the junkyard.
She took a deep breath and heard her name. 
From across the field, Dean emerged from the trees and shouted her name. He spun his hand in the air and she cocked her head, staring at him, confused but smiling. He was just as beautiful as the first time she’d seen him, though a bit more broken down and tired. 
Again, he yelled for her, and the slow motion world around her cranked back up to full speed. 
“Y/N!” 
She heard it then- the horrid, hungry growl. She smelled the dirt, the wetness. Felt the fear as her body tensed. 
Y/N turned and the wolf attacked. She pulled the trigger but it only made the beast more aggressive. 
Powerful jaws clamped down on her defending arm; razor claws ripped through her flesh. The wet ground accepted her body as they fell, the mud curled up around her as the grass gave way. 
Two shots rang out and the wolf was hit. It reared back and leapt over her, gunning for Dean. 
Y/N flipped over in the mud and tried to get up to help him, but her arms gave out and she sank down, her face cradled by the soft grass. 
One more blast from the gun and she heard the monster fall. Boots splashed through the mud and she felt Dean’s warmth as he fell to his knees beside her. 
Big hands turned her carefully and Dean scanned her face. Her eyes were rolling, her lips curled into the sweetest smile. 
“No. No. No.” His bottom lip trembled as he peeled back her jacket and saw the damage. Her chest was torn, her stomach ripped open and gushing blood. He pressed his hand into her middle and she cried out. 
Pain spread through her at his touch and then subsided. 
She grabbed at his arm, wrapping her fingers around the canvas sleeve. 
“I… I’m sorry, Dean.” 
Her voice was quaking as badly as his hand and he closed his eyes, shook his head.  
“No.” 
She smiled, laughed a little. “Yeah.” 
Again, he shook his head, refusing to let her go. “No.” He sat up a bit, craned his neck over the tall grass. “Bobby! Somebody! Help!” 
Weakly, she lifted a hand to his face and guided his gaze back down to her. 
“Hey. It’s OK.” 
He raged inside. Grit his teeth. “It’s not OK!” 
Blood rushed beneath his hand like a dam had burst on a river. Her skin paled, her eyelids fluttered. 
His heart raced, breath quickened. “Please don’t. Don’t leave. Please.” 
Her shoulders twitched inward and the pain returned. She cringed but kept her smile, unwilling to go out like some terrified victim, some damsel in distress. 
“Dean…” She pet his cheek, wiped away a hot tear. 
“Please.” 
“Do you remember when we met?” 
He chewed his lip, closed his eyes, and took a breath. 
“Yeah, Y/N/N. Of course I do.” 
Her fingers tensed on his cheek. “You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. You still are.” 
“Don’t say goodbye to me, Y/N/N. You can’t.” He turned his face and kissed her palm, grabbed her wrist with both bloody hands and kissed her fingertips, kissed her knuckles, kissed every inch. “You can’t leave me.” 
With her free hand, she tugged at the chain around her neck and pulled the necklace free. 
“Here. Take this back,” she whispered, hardly able to spare the breath to speak any longer. 
Dean gasped and dropped her hand, ran his fingertips over the old lug nut pendant. “You… you still have this? After all this time?” 
She laughed painfully. “Of course I do, you idiot. I never take it off.” 
He closed a fist around it and shut his eyes, trying to erase the tears and be strong for her. It was all ending and he knew it. She had just moments left and he couldn’t let her go without letting her know the truth. 
“It’s my good luck charm,” she said under a harsh breath. She coughed and the taste of iron flooded her mouth. She swallowed it down and held on. 
“Didn’t do you much good today.” 
She smiled and closed her hand around his. 
“I’ve always loved you, ya know. You… you were always it for me, Dean. Always. I’ve… I’ve loved you since that first day by the stream. I’ve never not loved you. I just need you to know that.” 
He shuddered, sucked in an uneasy breath. “I knew, Y/N/N,” he confessed. “I always knew. I… I love you, too. So fucking much.” 
Her eyes lit up for a second and she shook her head sadly. The tears broke free and refused to leave. 
“Then why? Why didn’t-” 
She couldn’t finish the words, but he understood. 
He pressed his hand lightly to her forehead and smiled. “Come on. I’ve told you a thousand times, Y/N/N. I don’t deserve someone like you.” 
He leaned down, held her cheek, kissed her forehead, her cheek, her lips. 
Y/N closed her eyes, safe in his arms, and felt the sweet pull of sleep yank at her limbs. 
“Shut up, Dean,” she whispered. 
He laughed gently. 
She smiled. 
He would be OK.
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Dean stared into the fire, watching through bloodshot eyes as the flames licked at her silhouette. 
Her necklace gleamed in the pyre’s glow and he closed his fist around it, holding it tight. Despite the heat of the fire, the metal was cold against his palm. 
She was really gone. 
She’d been there almost his entire life, always at his side when he called, always there to stitch him back together. But now she was gone. 
He’d watched a hundred bodies burn over the years, said goodbye to every friend he’d ever had, but this was too much. There was a piece of him gone, a wound had been carved out of his chest that would never heal. 
So many things he should have told her, so many times he’d taken her for granted. Guilt pulled at him and grief chewed at his veins. So many years wasted. So many nights he could have been alone with her, happy and loved. 
The blaze burned hot, the wood crackled. 
Dean stared silently, drowning in his pain. Forever the man she loved. Still the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 
The boy with the green eyes.  
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Tourniquet Tags: @prettyinplaid94 @winharry @muhahaha303            
2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!) @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  
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dayurno · 5 months
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No but for real killing Jean like that would be like an objectively bad writing choice. Same thing I think with the Kandreil draft where everyone thought Andreil was cheating on Kevin. There are some previous drafts things I think that are geniunely better as Nora's inside thoughts
it’s not that i disagree with you or anything but the reason i shared that snippet of her saying that in other drafts jean would have committed suicide while ON THE PHONE with KEVIN is that i think it’s deranged. it’s insane. it’s crazy enough to be funny. i’d give everything to read that draft
but on a more serious note: a world where something like that could happen is interesting to me. the way she put it didn’t even seem like jean’s choosing of kevin to witness his last moments was a punishment — instead kevin was, as simply put as possible, the person jean wanted to sit with him while he did perhaps the scariest thing he’s ever done. i think suicide as a theme in a story like aftg might feel as the author refusing to give a character the place or the time to heal, but in this specific situation, perhaps it *was* the choice that made jean feel more at peace with himself. ritualistic, almost, in how he reaches out for the only friend he’s ever had and asks him to accompany him to the other side. the sending off of an old friend, even if i can’t see kevin ever recovering from that phone call
in the end it might not be the dignified ending people would want for a character as beloved as jean. and it’s understandable! really it is. what matters to me is less that it happened in a draft far far far away, and rather what this says about jean and the fact that he thought the only way he could meaningfully show any support or love for kevin was to die. how he was willing to sacrifice himself again and again in every draft because he felt kevin’s & neil’s lives were worth more than his. i think this goes over most peoples’ heads when they consume mostly fanon, but jean was described in the books as having blind loyalty towards riko: when he’s taken to palmetto, he tries to go back TWICE before kevin sits him down and convinces him to stay. you didn’t think i was joking when i called jean a dog, did you?
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comradekatara · 3 months
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Re: Zuko sexism and fandom: I think that a LOT of people are just genuinely unwilling to actually view Zuko's bad behaviour as actually consequential. He gets "forgiven" by the Gaang and he has a big dramatic duel and then he rules the Fire Nation so it's fine actually. If it wasn't fine he wouldn't have been forgiven, like Jet! They use the lens of end-of-series Zuko, influenced by how the Gaang forgives him, to then retroactively handwave away his earlier behaviour and view it as if end of series Zuko is just misguidedly doing those things, rather than it being an actual expression of what he believes in and his morality at that point in time. Part of it is an abundance of sympathy and projection because he's the most explicit (and arguably only explicit, because other child abuse victims are never injured or attempted-murdered that we know of, and that's the bar for many viewers. Neither are any other than Zuko positioned piteously or as victims of Serious Injustice.) child abuse victim in the show and we see so MUCH of his internal struggle. For like a whole book. There's also a consistent trend of viewing the Fire Nation as Yes, Actually, being better than the other societies, they just shouldn't have tried to spread it via war, so yes Zuko is ✨indoctrinated✨ but in a feminist galaxy brained way not a bad fascist way. So the colonialism would've been fine if people had just agreed with how great the Fire Nation is! Pretty much the entirety of Zuko's bad behaviour is handwaved away as "he's a good guy who had a bad life! We forgive him for all of it, he's trying!" And to a lot of viewers, it's also "he's also hot and I've had a crush on him since I was like 14!". He's genuinely a huge asshole to pretty much everyone around him like, almost 24/7, for the majority of the show. And he has his reasons but he's still caused a lot of harm, and that we see? he's basically only revised his views on violent colonialism, making his Anger other people's problem, and some parts of racism. He only ever addresses what he's done to the Gaang and Uncle to. Does he buy Song another ostrich horse? Does he give Kyoshi reparations? Did he ever find out if that farming family with the kid Lee were harmed for harbouring a FIRE NATION PRINCE? What did he do to apologise to the Southern Water Tribe? Whatever he did to apologise to and thank Mai, if anything, I can guarantee it wasn't enough. That's just his personal stuff, never mind his policy choices as the New Fiery Dictator. It's so boring and frustrating how much people gloss over his jagged edges, because without those edges his narrative and how he fits into the world and story just collapses completely.
you’re so right about all of this. I think his final scene with mai is especially emblematic of how his resolution is framed as “and they all lived happily ever after” even though I remember perfectly well how he treated that poor girl so I’m just yelling at her to run away the whole scene. although I will say that stealing song’s ostrich horse was probably his most justifiable crime just bc if I was a disfigured burn victim and someone tried to touch my face without asking I’d also consider committing petty theft against them. ngl. he still does owe her a new ostrich horse though. and of course framing his ascension as some grand victory is thematically/telelogically appropriate, but I highly doubt he would be like. good at firelording. but that’s for another post. ppl really like smoothing out his edges and treating him as if he’s beyond reproach when everyone only finds him so compelling in the first place because his flaws are so obvious, so they assume he’s more “complex” than the other characters (and also more relatable, but that’s for another post too). it’s actually kind of funny if you think about it. “he’s the best because he’s so noticeably flawed and therefore so complex but also I love him so he doesn’t have any flaws actually and is probably a feminist socialist who loves eating pussy and listening to women.” and this is also lowkey how ppl talk about sokka too but at least sokka does actually do those things, zuko doesn’t even pretend to😭 anyway. i keep saying today that you guys couldn’t handle revolutionary girl utena, but you guys REALLY couldn’t handle revolutionary girl utena…
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