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bg-brainrot · 3 months

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The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water.

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more.

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation.

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force.

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub.

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

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tacticaldiary · 9 months

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Recovery In Tandem

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warning: Torture, Men being creepy, mentions of sexual assault, Simon and the reader get their revenge.

"Good. You're doing good." Simon soothes, running a hand up and down her back. "That's it, love. Keep breathing, yeah?"

"I can't do it." She sobs a sound that makes Simon's chest tighten, clutching onto his like he's the only thing keeping her afloat. "I can't...it's-I'm always back there-"

A/N: Sequel to 'Captured In Tandem'. Read Part 1 Here to get the full context

Masterlist

It's odd, coming back to what used to be so normal.

Days in a dingy basement with only a lover as broken as she was or company. She had to be strong for him back then, just as Simon had been determined to be for her, but now...

Now there was nothing to be strong for.

No ropes digging into her ankles and wrists, nobody forcing hurt on her for answers she couldn't give. No reason to keep her chin up to chase away the angry, anguished looks in Ghost's eyes as she was beaten and shot and put through the worst humanity has to offer.

Watching back the recordings the sick bastards had made was easy. She'd done it with a numb sort of dissociative manner. Watched herself be touched and shot while Ghost spat out threats that would make a normal man turn pale. They'd assured her she didn't have to sit through it, that she could deliver her statement and reports through memory alone but something in her itched to see living, visible proof that it was all real.

Sometimes she feels insane, stuck in her own head.

Ghost had to leave the room when they hit play.

He never said anything, just got up, pushed his chair in and left. It was funny, a detached part of her had thought when he'd walked out. She'd seen him do the most squeamish things, known he'd gone through much worse, but seeing her be tortured, ripped into half the shreds he was, was somewhat too much to bear for him.

That had been 12 days ago.

Price has taken her access to the video away after the ninth time she'd watched it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"I know you're bad at sharing but you wouldn't mind if I had a taste, would you?" The man croons at Ghost. His breath fans across her face, acrid and disgusting. A choked sob tears out of her lips when his hand trails up her body-

And she...she can't move?

Her head is a leaden weight, fixed firmly to the grimy ground under her, her limbs frozen as she watches it happen in terror. She has to do something, to push him away, bash in his nose with her skull, but she can't move, Ghost is yelling and shouting and threatening, and she can't do anything but sit there helplessly as she squeezes her eyes shut, breath ragged-

His hands stop on her shoulders, clutching them tight enough to aggravate the old wounds, she's being shaken, a voice in her ear, low and-...and soothing? A rumble she knows so well, mumbling something that doesn't match up with what should be happening-

She wakes up with a start, a choked gasp tearing its way from her throat. There are hands on her, holding her shoulders and she clumsily tries to scratch them away, to push, mind still scrambled and half awake.

"-alright, I've got you." The ringing in her ears subsides and words make themselves known to her right by her ear. A hand grabs hers, presses it against something warm and scarred and beating, the scent of gun smoke and oak invading her senses as she snaps back to the present.

It's not a chair or a hard floor under her, it's soft sheets that rustle as she trembles, pressed close to someone so familiar and warm

Warm. She was never warm back there.

A shuddering breath loosens out of her chest, mixed with a sob as the fight drains out of her

"Good. You're doing good." Simon soothes, running a hand up and down her back. "That's it, love. Keep breathing, yeah?"

"I can't do it." She sobs a sound that makes Simon's chest tighten, clutching onto his like he's the only thing keeping her afloat. "I can't...it's-I'm always back there-"

"You're not." He slides her hand out from under his shirt where he'd pressed it over his heart, pulls her in closer to him. "We got out. You got us out."

Nightmares. Night terrors, more specifically.

She dreamt about dying.

He dreamt about watching her die.

Simon was more subtle about it. He hadn't told her at first, keeping his troubles guarded lest he give her more to worry about during her recovery. She'd found out when something jostled her in the middle of the night, had switched on the lamp to see him tense, with a gritted jaw.

He'd told her he'd been having them all his life, that he was used to them, but that didn't make her feel any better, didn't help her deal with her own.

The same scene, over and over again, but this time she's unable to escape, unable to move. She has to let it happen and watch the both of them die.

Every. Fucking. Night.

"Listen to me." He says firmly, and when she doesn't respond, he pulls her away from where she's buried her face into the crook of his neck. "Eyes on me. Right here." He urges in that same commanding voice he'd told her to grab the knife with all that time ago.

She obliges and something so distressed in her eyes makes a pang of anger and upset hit his heart. Not at her. Never at her.

Simon's just upset that he didn't get to rip those motherfuckers into shreds with his own two hands.

"We're not there." He curls a hand around the back of her neck. "You killed him, we're safe." His mouth ticks down. "Don't leave pieces of yourself behind, yeah? They don't deserve an inch more of you than they've already taken."

"We're safe." She breathes out, repeating him and relaxing when he gives her a nod of approval.

"That's right." His thumb circles her nape softly, a reassuring pressure that keeps her grounded. "Wouldn't have fucking lived with myself if I let a bastard like that be the end of you."

He considers the small quirk of her lips as a victory.

"No?" She questions, leaning into him, exhaustion tugging at her bones.

"Negative." He confirms.

"I think of it a lot." She admits after a moment. "I go there every night. Watched the tape to figure out if there was anything...sooner I could have done."

Lips press against her temple, hot and firm as she lets her eyes slip shut.

"If there was, I would've done it." There's a deep-seated regret in his voice, the gravel of guilt weaving its way through the sediments of his thoughts. There are a few moments of silence, and she thinks that might be all he has to say but Simon surprises her by going on:

"It was hell." He says in a low voice, almost hesitant to verbalise it to her. "Never been so off-kilter, seeing you all banged up and mangled." He puffs a quick exhale against her skin. "Would've skinned those fuckers alive if I could."

And she believes him.

The threat of such violence may be a deterrent to others, but it warms her inside out to know that she's barrelled past all his walls and settled into his heart as someone he'd go to those lengths to protect.

"I know." She whispers. Simple. Knowing. Mutual.

They stay like that until she drifts back off to sleep. It's not hard, given the little hours she's only been able to get before being woken up by her own mind. It's a solace, knowing he'd be there to coach her through it every time, to reassure and ground and hold her until the worst of it passes.

Simon watches her drift off.

He couldn't leave her side after Gaz had found them. Fought and glared at anybody who dared to tell him to step away from her. Even when being given medical attention of his own, his gaze was always fixed on her.

The strongest fucking person he knows.

Ghost prides himself on being someone efficient, someone who goes in and out and gets the job done with terrifying purpose.

It had all flown out the window the moment he registered that she was with him in that room, bound in front of him. When they'd caught on that she was the one person he'd burn the fucking world down for, he hated himself for letting it show.

His arms tighten around her, feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his own, reminding himself that she was still here. Alive. With him.

His. Always his.

He couldn't do much to change the past...

But he could do a hell of a lot to make them feel better about the future.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ────��── · ·

"You certain about this?" Price raises an eyebrow, watching the rigid set of Ghost's shoulders. He stares at the glass looking into the observation room.

"Positive." Voice clipped, eyes cold.

There is no Simon here, just the harsh chill of Ghost.

Price doesn't say anything more, simply takes a drag of his cigar, letting the smoke out into the air in a slow exhale. "This is off the books." The implications of the words make something cruel and satisfied curl in his chest. "Intel is your priority. Their lives are not."

There's brewing anger underneath his Captain's words. Anger at the outcome, at receiving two of the best soldiers of his prized task force back injured, one of them in tatters. He'd sat outside the operating room the entire time she'd been in surgery.

If he didn't think Ghost deserved to more, he'd go in there himself.

"Copy." Ghost clips out, and then pushes the door open.

He recognises about 5 of the 8 men bound in front of him, slumped against the wall. He doesn't care about the unfamiliar 3, they were here and therefore associated.

That was enough of a crime for him to feel no remorse.

They straighten up as he enters and Ghost can't help the rush of grim satisfaction at the way they shuffle and bristle when they realise who it is.

Ghost stares them down for a moment, before dragging a cart from the shadows of a corner into the light.

Knives, a bat, a pistol, and other knick-knacks that he intended to test out. Laid out neatly for him to rifle through and choose.

He picks the pistol, loading the chamber full.

It dawns on them pretty quickly, and some of them start stuttering and talking at him, words that buzz around his head. Others hold their chins high and Ghost cannot wait to make them break.

He drags the one nearest to him closer, kicks the man's knee out sending him kneeling to the floor. Before the man can start to talk, Ghost levels the gun to his head and fires a shot clean through his skull.

Blood splatters near the feet of the 7 others.

"That's the most merciful I'll be getting." He says, voice ringing through the room. He surveys the room briefly. "I doubt any of you'll be giving me half the fight the woman you beat did."

"They were our orders!" One of them yells, tugging at his bindings. "We did what we were told."

"Your mistake." Ghost says unfeelingly, clicking the chamber of his gun shut again. "Touching her was a death sentence."

He doesn't give them a single word more.

One by one, he makes them all crack, makes the others watch just as he was forced to. Screwdrivers, knives, and his own two hands ripped through flesh and cracked bones, stoking and soothing the fire running under his veins. Each scream and cry reminds him of the ones she'd let out, the ones he had to endure and listen to because of these bastards, eggs him on to be more brutal and ruthless.

Unforgiving.

He doesn't need to ask a single question.

They cry out their answers in desperate pleas of mercy, anything and everything that they think Ghost would possibly want to know.

Personnel, safehouses, weapons, and coordinates. They all come pouring out between the cracks of their bones, the ringing of bullets, and the quiet slashes of his knife.

Ghost doesn't hear a single word. It would all be recorded for whoever the hell to go through later on, but Ghost doesn't care about any of it. The only thing he's focused on is paying back what's due in dividends.

By the time he's done, there's more blood on the floor than the drain could keep up with, and the cold rage had receded back enough for him to be satisfied.

Price doesn't comment when he emerges, silently nodding before walking off to find the only person who matters. There were no pieces of him left in that room. He'd reserved each one of them for her.

He'll be damned if he ever lets anybody break her down again.

Not on his watch.

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(25/09/2023)

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highhhfiveee · 6 months

Note

can I request mike, reader, and Abby going to the beach :p!?

[i'm combining this with another ask! they requested the same setting, but with a scenario!]

i wish i could go to the beach so bad!! i fucking love the summer and it's damn near the dead of winter where i live ],: i also get cold so easily and i can't take freezing every morning lmao

tags: sweetgf!reader + dickheadbf!mike, light smut (oral [deepthroating and come swallowing], m!receiving), mostly fluff and being grateful for life and the people who you live it with [: proofread but maybe there are still errors! kill me, i'm human!

i am imagining:

you and mike are sitting on the couch on a late friday morning, hypnotized by daytime television after a big, indulgent breakfast and chats about mike's shift. abby had retreated to the adjacent loveseat, fast asleep with a stomach full of pancakes and eggs.

"it's so hotttt," mike grumbles, stretching his sweaty body out like a starfish. the limbs on his right side invade your space, leaving you to shrink into the couch with a groan.

"yeah, mike, too hot for you to be doing that. stoppp," you return his irritated tone, bringing your hands up to push into him. it was the hottest day of the summer so far, and it wasn't like you weren't also feeling the elements. not even the AC unit turned to full blast could cool the living room, and it made every breath feel thick and labored.

mike stands from his spot on the couch, dramatically dragging his body over to the kitchen. you watch as he yanks the freezer door open with impatience, craning his head into the crystalized cool and saying, "it's too hot to be living."

you turn your body to extend across the whole sofa, thankful that your hair is up and out of your face so you're able to feel the tickle of a breeze on the nape of your neck. you bite at your bottom lip as the gears of your brain churn through a heat-induced fog, thinking of how to keep cool at a time like this.

abby stirs then, stretching and yawning and squealing, "it was hot in my dream too." you turn your head to her, pursing your lips to the side in disappointment.

"aw, abs, i'm sorry. that sucks."

"i was at the beach though, which i think makes up for it---"

"omg, the beach! we should go!" you cheer, but mike shuts you down once he hears abby wholeheartedly agree.

"uh, the closest beach is six hours away."

"well, maybe we can make a weekend out of it," you suggest, motioning for abby to come sit with you. she delicately settles on your thighs, relaxing into the couch and swinging her legs over the edge.

"yeah, with what money?"

"i can dip into my savings a little bit, at least for the hotel and gas," you offer, and mike is shutting you down again, shaking his head as he cranes it towards you and humming "nuh uh"s.

"c'mon mike, i don't mind! listen, i want to do this for us," you're hugging abby into you, pressing your cheeks together and telepathically communicating for her to help you convince mike with her own set of puppy dog eyes. "we'll leave in the evening so you can get some rest, and we can split the drive."

"abby doesn't have a license."

your face scrunches as you confusedly mutter, "why would you include your eleven year old sister in a 'we' of that context?" as abby states, "you're weird, mike." in the same tone.

"i know, my joke didn't land, i guess," mike sighs, letting his head drop between his shoulders as he closes the freezer door. the sound of suction punctuates his action, and he turns to you and abby with a grimace before saying, "three hours behind a steering wheel just doesn't seem appealing. two would be a hell of a lot more digestible."

"oh my god, mike, you're so pitiful," you playfully chide, crossing your arms over your chest. "i promise that you'll survive, grumpy. tell you what, i'll drive four hours so you'll only have to drive two."

the sweet drawl of your voice and trivial suggestion to take on more work is all it takes for mike to fold and drive all six hours.

he doesn't do it with a smile, but you're still grateful for his sacrifice, cupping his face and kissing his cheek as he drives into the sizzling orange pulse of the sunset. "i love youuuu," you sing, and he grumbles for like the millionth time that day as you ignore him and muse, "and abby loves you, and we're gonna have so much fun on our beach weekend!!"

you and abby begin to whoop and cheer and dance in your seats, chanting, "beachbeachbeach!", and you pretend not to notice the slight smirk that cracks the perpetual stiffness of mike's mouth.

you spend the first half of the trip singing along to an old CD abby had burned sometime ago--"you always have to keep a road trip mix on hand"--, playing various word association games, and sucking fluorescent orange dust from your fingers after you chuck a cheeto into mike's mouth and pass the bag back to abby.

the second half is stiller; abby has fallen asleep again, soothed by the motions of the car, and you're staring at mike's side profile as he drives. he's so tired; it's painted in his eyes and over his body, with the way he slumps into the driver's seat and focuses on the road like nothing else is around him.

he catches your gaze after a bit, breaking himself away from his trance. he switches hands on the wheel so he's able to clutch your thigh, gently kneading at your skin, and with a small grin, asks, "got a nice view?"

"yeah, but it seems the view isn't feeling so nice," you raise your hand to his shoulder, your turn to massage into him. he's so tense under your touch, and you watch his eyes flicker with your words, training back on the four lane highway ahead. "i think this will be nice for us. we all deserve a nice vacation; especially you, mikey. you've been working hard, and i know you're tired."

"yeah," mike breathes softly, the gentlest you think he's been all day. "i'm sorry about the way i was acting about the drive. i just couldn't think straight after my shift, your delicious breakfast, and sitting in the heat."

"i understand. three hours of driving isn't fun, but that's why i offered to take more of the load after you made that...bad joke."

"so now it's just categorically bad?" mike pouts with comical sorrow, and you giggle at him, nudging at his shoulder with soft pressure.

"yes, because why was she included in we? obviously abby can't drive."

"it was supposed to be one of my sillies,"

"you're just usually better at them," you argue, and it sends the both of you into a laughing fit that gives you a stomach cramp, mike affirming, "yeah, yeah, you're right, you're right. shit, are you okay?" as you try to calm down.

after relaxing back into a comfortable silence, you're bringing mike's hand to your lips, kissing at his knuckles when he blurts, "thank you for putting up with me, and for paying for stuff so short notice."

"oh hush. i love you, mike. truly. we take care of each other, don't we?" you squeeze his hand as you continue, placing it over your heart. "there hasn't been a second i've been with you where i haven't felt supported, and now it's my turn to support you. plus, this is like abby's first real vacation. i want her to have the best time too. we don't have any money when we're dead, so we might as well say we had experiences, yeah?"

"i love you. you're an angel on earth," mike hums lovingly as he pulls off of an exit, able to relax his head against the headrest and leer at you once he brakes at a red light. "our angel on earth." you writhe under his enamored stare, blushing and gnawing on your bottom lip with an airy giggle, and later, after you've gotten to your hotel and tucked abby into bed, you're back in the car doing that same giggle with his dick lodged in your throat.

"my angel on earth," he repeats as he folds his fingers into your hair so he can pull on it, maintaining eye contact while you sloppily guide yourself on him. his toes curl and his thigh muscles spasm, and he's panting down on your face as his other hand grabs his steering wheel in a white hot grip. "fuck, baby."

you're grateful that you were able to book a room facing outwards on the first floor of the hotel; you could be disgusting with mike in the car while ensuring abby's safety through the front windshield.

it helped solidify that there were no worries in your orbit; everything here was perfect, and you feed that passion into taking mike deeper, holding his gaze even as a tear runs down your cheek after an obscene gag that resonates through the whole car.

you swallow around him as you reach down to caress his balls, and crack a triumphant smile when he tenses, brokenly whimpering and bucking his hips into your face with sinful desperation. he doesn't stop as he shoots his come into your mouth, using the hand in your head to tilt your head back so the overflow doesn't choke you.

you moan as you taste him on your tongue, drinking it down while you flash mike the watery, filthy twinkle in your eyes. he thinks that it extends his orgasm, his balls tightening with another spray of white down your throat.

though his body burns with fatigue, mike brings his thumb to the corner of your lips to collect a spilt remnant of himself, pushing it into your mouth where he feels the warm plushiness of your tongue wrap around his digit. "god, i think you're gonna kill me one day. this mouth is deadly."

"one day, yes, but not today or saturday or sunday. not while we're on vacation."

you both retire to the room after, two immovable stone statues in bed until 7 am, when you're both ripped from your sleep by abby's noisy movements. she's enthusiastically throwing the curtains open, drowning you two in painfully bright sunlight and skipping over to hop on the bed, narrowly missing your shins and knees with her uncoordinated steps.

"abby, abby, abby," mike drones groggily, reaching out for her ankles.

you blearily watch as she snatches it out of his reach, and you can't help but laugh as you two make eye contact. "come on!! we're on vacation!! we've gotta start vacationing now!!"

"we don't have to start at...seven twenty-two in the morning," mike complains, wiping at his eyes after throwing his gaze to the alarm clock. "maybe we can do...ten."

"ten is way too late! if we eat now, we can wait it out and then go to the beach and stay all day! pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease--" you wrangle abby into your arms, squeezing her close to your body in an attempt to quiet her.

you smooth her hair down, tucking it behind her ears as you whisper, "hey, hey, how about we go get breakfast and meet mike a little later, okay? we can go in our pjs and everything," abby's eyes light up at your plan, and she's nodding excitedly, pulling on your wrist in order to wrench you from the warm bed. "let's go now then!"

"let me brush my teeth first, sweet thing, at least."

after another generous breakfast, two cat naps, and endless searching through bags marked with the sharp zztt zztt zztt of zippers, you, mike, and abby are established in the warm sand of a southern beach; it'd been a bit of a hassle to put the umbrella up, with its complicated, ancient instructions, but your tired muscles and mind are extraordinarily grateful for the effort as you lounge in your chair, leaning your head back into a neck pillow and scanning your eyes over your science fiction read.

after a bit, you stick your bookmark into the crease of your pages and remove your sunglasses from your face so you're able to get a clearer view of abby and mike along the shoreline.

they're laughing together, running back and forth and taunting the tide as it crashes against the sand in a white foam. "you can't let the tide get you, abby! the sea monsters will take you whole!" you chuckle as mike sweeps her up in his arms, swinging her over the water as he treads deeper.

you set your book down and travel towards the tide, picking up more of their conversation over the soft wind.

"wait, what---what---oh no, the sea monsters are speaking to me. they're saying...i have to give you up." mike shakes his head in faux despair, beginning to fake cry as abby yelps in his arms. "they say they've been looking for an eleven year old girl named abby for their mission!" he continues swinging her, pretending to dunk her in some moments and keeping her away from the water in others, claiming, "no, i won't let them have you!"

you place your hands on your hips, raising your eyebrow in preparation to play along as they make their way back to land. "everything okay over here? i heard something about...'sea monsters'."

"the sea monsters have mastered mind control," abby matter-of-factly explains, wiggling from mike's grasp and curling her toes back into the wet sand during her impromptu intermission. "they specifically need an eleven year old abby, but mike is such a great brother that he wouldn't dare give me up."

"wouldn't do it for all the money in the world," mike affirms with a smile and finger wag pointed to the sky. after a moment, he winces and squeezes his eyes tightly in pain, rubbing at his temples with two fingertips. "they're still in my head though. it's taking all my willpower to fight against them."

you nod at the both of them, an oddly fascinated smile etched onto your face. "well maybe you two can take them down and make them reform. ask them why they need children for their mission in the first place."

"well they don't always, do they, abs?" abby shakes her head as mike reaches out for you, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "in fact...they're asking for...you now."

you widen your eyes, playing up your shock with a hand to the heart. "oh jeez. well, thank god it's an adult this time. what would the world be without abby?"

"what would the world be like without me? you ask great questions, y/n. that's why i love you."

"i love you more, abs. i'm not letting them get you either," you reply, running your hand over the crown of her damp head with an affectionate grin as you feel mike sneakily wrap his arms around your waist, pressing you into him. "mike, wh--"

"the sea monsters have spoken. they want you!" you're off your feet before you can even finish your screech, flying towards the cresting waves. one moment, mike had you in his arms, trudging into deeper surf, and the next, you're shrouded in icy ocean water, the salt stinging your eyes and coating your unexpectant tongue in a disgusting layer of minerals.

mike's laughing as he slowly makes his way to the sand, his back facing the shore while he waits for you to come to the surface. he's beside abby when you finally rise, the joy dropping from both of their demeanors when they take you in.

your staunch displeasure could be seen from football fields away and it makes abby mischievously gulp, "uh oh" as you irritably trek through the water, stopping when it reaches your mid-thigh.

you're like a goddess, appearing from the ocean in your simple black bikini, water droplets beading over the exposed parts of your smooth bronze skin, and it's all mike wants to make you feel like in order to atone for his obvious mistake. he wants to throw you into his arms and apologize profusely and plant kisses all over your body and ask you what he can do to make it right; he'll do anything if it means he won't see you with crossed arms and a deep scowl.

your attitude has mike sprinting over, almost face planting as his feet slip in the waterlogged sand. his eyes are overwhelmingly remorseful, and he begins to spew sentiment as he grabs for you.

"i'm so sorry baby, are you okay? are you hurt?" his voice cracks as he examines you thoroughly, grazing his hands over your face and body. you nearly give up your act at his attentiveness, but you maintain, rolling your eyes at him. he deflates at that, whimpering, "fuck, i'm sorry. i'm so sorry. i should've asked before i did that, i-i-i just thought since you were playing along that maybe it'd be okay...." mike's ramble trails off as he focuses on you stepping back into deeper water, and even more terrifyingly, your continued silence. "baby, hey, hey. are you okay?"

he follows you closely, and it's a foolish mistake on his own part; his consideration leaves him vulnerable, and you're able to ram your small frame into his torso, wrapping your own arms around his waist and tackling him into the chilly water. he goes down with a yell and comes up soon after with a cough and a smile, shaking the saltwater from his hair.

he wipes at his eyes as he reorients himself, rasping, "oh, i see. you were just getting back at me, being all cold and shit."

you watch him with your lips pursed amusedly, traversing around his recovering form so that you have an unobstructed escape route. "you gave me to the sea monsters, mike. i couldn't not get revenge."

"yeah, well, now this sea monster's gonna get you!" you noisily squeal as you run with high knees all the way to abby, who jumps and cheers for you back at the dry shore. "don't let them get you, y/n!"

"i won't!" you scream back, your words broken up with chuckles as you try your best to escape mike's aquatic nefariousness. you've made it out of the water, pulling abby into a wet embrace when mike clammers into the two of you, sending you all down to the lush sand.

it sticks to your skin as you belly-laugh with abby under mike's weight, feeling his heart pump through his ribs with adrenaline, and you can't help but think about how memorable this time will be for all of you.

mike and abby would be your family forever, and moments like this cemented that.

cute beach time!!! i love sweetgf and dickheadbf, they warm my heart.

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

#fnaf fic #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt fluff #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #faire is writing stuff #faire answers asks

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saintsenara · 2 months

Note

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?” He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!” He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.” Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious. “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ” Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?” riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

#asks answered #asenora meta #tom riddle #lord voldemort #if wizards had the concept of safeguarding it would be a game changer...

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shootingmorningstar · 3 months

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Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ

You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~

Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.

You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.

You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.

Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.

Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.

Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.

That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.

He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.

So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.

He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.

It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.

You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.

wc ; 1.2k

His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.

Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.

Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜

The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.

Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.

Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.

Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.

Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.

A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜

Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜

Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.

❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜

Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.

I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.

As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~

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run2rae · 9 days

Text

'SHUT UP, WON'T YA?'

SUKUNA X AFAB!READER

CONTEXT: You were invited by your friend Gojo Satoru over to his house for a small party with some of his other friends. One particular person you've had a crush on was there. One of his close friends, Sukuna. "Let's all play 7 minutes in heaven!", said Gojo. 7 minutes in heaven...?

WARNINGS: nsfw, 18+, kissing, fingering, degration, some praise, friends to lovers

BEFORE YOU READ: There may be small grammar mistakes or typos, so please bare with me!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　. 　　˚　✭　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　✭　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　　　　　　 ✦ You were sitting on your couch watching a show on Netflix when you got a text message. You look down to see your phone, rolling your eyes. "God what does he want now.."

"Hey, Y/n!!!! I'll be having a small get together/party later tonight at my place, you're invited if you want to come! Shoko, Suguru, Nanami & Sukuna will be there ;)))" He really knew how to get to you. Hearing the name Sukuna made you interested in whatever was being said no matter what the topic was. You replied back to Gojo. "Yeah, yeah whatever I'll go" You turned off your phone and looked up at the ceiling. Will Sukuna really be there? Thinking of the man gave you butterflies. You've liked him for so long, and tonight you'll be around him more than usual. Night time comes and you arrive at Gojo's place. You see the lights on and knock on the door. You wait outside patiently hearing footsteps quickly come to the door. "Y/n!! You made it!! Come on in!! Everyone was waiting for you. We have some drinks in the kitchen, so grab whatever you want." You walk inside and see everyone in the living room quickly look up at you. Shoko and Suguru wave to you as Nanami nods his head in greeting. You look over at Sukuna on his phone. He was always like that. He isn't the type to greet others and usually ignores their presence until he feels like acknowledging them. "Hey everyone... I'll be in the kitchen getting a drink, be right back!" You quickly wave to everyone, then walk to the kitchen. You are grabbing a drink as you hear footsteps behind you, assuming it's Gojo coming to annoy you. "I'll be there in a second Gojo, stop rushing m-" Your words are cut off when you turn around and see the pink haired boy looking at you. You could've sworn Gojo would've been behind you, so seeing Sukuna standing behind you was unexpected. "I'm not rushing you, I came here to get another drink. Glad you could make it though." Sukuna says to you as he grabs another drink and walks away back to the living room. What was that? You stood there in shock, your face in a bright pink color. You quickly got your drink and went back into the living room where everyone else was sitting and laughing together. "I have a proposal!!!! Why don't we all play 7 minutes in heaven? It'll be fun!! We can all get to know each other a bit more."

Gojo says as he looks as you, winking. You already know what he's doing. You kick his leg in annoyance and look away.

"That doesn't sound too bad, I'm in."

Shoko says as Geto and Nanami nod their head in agreement. Sukuna looks up at everyone looking at him for an answer.

"Huh? Ugh, fine whatever."

Sukuna said rolling his eyes. He wouldn't be able to say no anyways, there's no way out of this. Gojo grins in happiness as he grabs the empty bottle next to him, placing it in the middle.

"Great! Let's get started!"

You sit down close to Shoko, since she's one of the people you feel most comfortable with. Infront of you is Sukuna, looking at you. You glance up for a second making direct eye contact with him, then quickly looking away. You couldn't believe you would be playing 7 minutes in heaven with Sukuna out of all people. You stare at Gojo's hand as he spun the bottle. Everyone was looking closely as to who it would land on. Your heart dropped when it stopped right in front of you and Sukuna. Your face turned into a deep red color as you looked at Shoko in panic. Shoko gasped and looked at you.

"Well, well, well!!!! Y/n and Sukuna!!!"

Gojo said loudly while laughing. Geto and Nanami were in shock, but stayed quiet as Gojo took the lead.

"Follow me, you two~"

Gojo said as he got up walking upstairs to where the closet was. You looked at Sukuna as he looked at you, but then he quickly got up and followed Gojo.

"Well?"

Sukuna said waiting for you to follow. You got up and ran behind him. You look back at Shoko and the rest in embarrassment as Shoko gave you a big thumbs up mouthing 'You got this!' You arrive upstairs with Gojo and Sukuna. Gojo turns around to face you both with that fuck ass grin on his face.

"I'll leave you two to it now. Have fun! I'll be setting the timer now!" "

Gojo said as he opened the closet door. You and Sukuna walked inside and saw as Gojo closed the door. The light from the outside slowly goes dark. You can feel Sukuna arms next to yours. You just stand there in shock that you're actually alone in a dark small closet with the man you've liked for god knows how long.

"He can be super annoying. I can't believe he even thought of an idea like this.."

Sukuna said as he looked over to you.

"Haha.. y-yeah.. sorry you had to do this. I know you probably don't want to be in here with me out of all people.."

Sukuna moved closer to you, your bodies now touching. You felt your face heat up a bit looking over your left shoulder. It was too dark to see any of your faces, but you felt embarrassed as if Sukuna could see how red you've become.

"What makes you say that, loser?"

His quiet, low tone voice was one of your weaknesses. Every time you heard his voice it would always make you weak to your legs. He always sounded so seductive knowing he wasn't even trying to be... but in this situation, was he?

"O-Oh! It's just this whole thing is really stupid. Gojo can be such an idiot sometimes with his ideas and-"

You were cut off as you felt a hand wrap around your waist. Your heart was beating so fast you couldn't think straight. Was Sukuna's hand really around you right now or was it your mind playing tricks on you?

"Hmm, I agree. He's such a nuisance... "

You can hear Sukuna's voice getting deeper as he comes closer to your ear. Your heart felt as if it was going to pop out of your chest. You felt your underwear starting to soak. "Mm.. S-Sukuna?.. What are you doing?" You felt Sukuna's other hand grab the other side of your waist, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his breath on your skin. It sent shivers down your spine. "We are alone in here together. Why don't we make the most out of it? Hm? If not that's fine, you can just push me away and we could wait until the 7 minutes are over with.." You turn your head toward Sukuna and kiss his lips. You never thought this day would come. You being alone in a closet felt unreal, but now you're kissing him?! Sukuna smirks under the kiss as he kisses you back. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him even closer to you. You feel his tongue asking for entrance as you allow him. You moan slightly under the kiss feeling the heat between your legs become more intense. Sukuna traces his hand along the sides of your body moving down slowly towards your thighs. He presses his leg in between your thighs as you moan from the touch between your legs. "You like that? You want more, loser?' Sukuna said in a seductive manner. You whimpered letting him know you want more. no, you need more. Sukuna's hand slowly slipped down your pants, slowly rubbing his fingers along the wet fabric. "You're so wet.. Have you been wet this whole time? Tell me." Sukuna said as he started to kiss your jawline rubbing his fingers with more pressure. You moaned softly from his words, grabbing his soft pink hair pulling him closer to you. "M-Mhm... You're all I think about- Ngh.. M-More.. P-Please.. Kuna.." Sukuna smirked under your skin. He took his hands out of your pants and pulled them down completely, revealing you in only your underwear. You bit your lip trying to suppress a whine. He placed both of your bodies on the floor of the closet to have a better position. He was now on top of your small body looking down on you. "I wish I can fuck the living brains out of you, but our time is limited. Do you want me to use my fingers? Would a slut like you like that? "M-Mhm.. Y-Yes please.. I need you in anyways possible.. please.."

You pant softly trailing your hand on his chest. He chuckles a bit to your response. He brings his left hand up to your face, kissing you as his right hand was slowly tracing down back to your wet mess. You moaned in the kiss as you felt him push your underwear to the side, circling your clit with such pressure, yet so slowly. You wanted him inside you already. "Mm.. K-Kuna.. Please.. Ngh.." "Shh, you're so impatient. A slut like you can wait.." Sukuna slid his middle finger to your entrance. Slowly inserting the first finger. You started to whimper as you felt his long digit enter you. Sukuna groaned at the feeling of your walls embrace his finger. "Fuck.. you're so wet for me.." Sukuna started to pump his finger in and out of you, hitting every spot. You were moaning and your head was spinning in circles. You felt so good. Your body was melting. You then felt a set of hands cover your mouth. "Shut up, won't ya? You don't want the others hearing you, do you? Pfft, knowing you, you probably do, you pervert." "Mm...Mmm!!!..." You whimpered and moaned under his hand covering your mouth, trying your best to hold back as much noise as you can. As you felt him go quicker, you felt another finger entering you. You rolled your eyes back in the process. The pleasure was too much to handle. Sukuna smirked to himself. He started to pump in and out of you faster, going deeper and deeper. "You want to cum? Hm? Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers.."

Sukuna said as he uncovered your mouth pulling you into a kiss as he continued to pump his fingers. You moaned into the kiss, digging your hands into his shoulders trying to suppress the noises escaping your mouth from becoming louder than they already were. You panted as you felt your high. You wanted to cum so, so badly. "Hah- Hah- Kuna!.. I-I'm gonna- F-Fuck!" "Do it." As soon as he said those words, you came all over his fingers. He continued to pump quickly as you came everywhere. Your body was twitching from the continued pressure of his fingers still inside you. He slowed down after a few seconds, panting with you. He slid his fingers out as you continued to breathe heavily. "Our time is almost up, loser..." He said as he licked his fingers clean of your liquids. You looked at him with a pink face. First, you kiss him, then he fucks you with his fingers and now he knows how you taste? "S-Sukuna! You didn't have to do that-" Your words were cut off from a sudden kiss he planted on your lips. Sukuna pulls away smirking at you. "You taste fucking amazing. I'll definitely taste more of you next time.." You both get up and clean yourselves before Gojo opens the door. Gojo slams the door grinning from ear to ear. He opens the door in shock. You both seem fine? It seems like nothing happened.. "Hey guys! How was it- Huh? Did you guys just... sit there?" Gojo looked disappointed, but he then looked closely at your neck. A red mark. You quickly realize what he's looking at and cover your neck. Gojo giggles to himself and walks away towards the others in the living room. "Oh?~ Hehe.. Never mind then, let's go back to the living room with the others.." As Gojo is walking away Sukuna follows behind him before turning around mouthing something to you. 'My place after this.' Your face turns red as you see Sukuna and Gojo disappear to the living room. This is going to be a looooong night.. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- I hope you enjoyed! Leave any kinds of requests in my inbox and I'll try and get to you <3 Thank you for reading !!

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carrymelikeimcute · 8 months

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Going over the izzy/lucius/shark exchange is so interesting in the context of this being an episode about apologies. About making concessions and trying to fix things.

(In this ep there's a lot about ed making amends/accommodating the crew's triggers and trauma. It's also about stede having to fix things when he upsets the superstitious crew by not treating their feelings as valid.)

At the start we have Ed's (probably well intentioned) but evasive, non-apology. He does an 'I'm sorry you feel that way' sort of apology about 'whatever that bad stuff was'. It's a wish to do better, but it doesn't really cover what went before. A lot of people interject here, but Izzy remains completely still and silent, off to one side.

Lucius says he never used the word 'sorry' and rightly calls this out. Roach however, says he's never heard an apology before - and liked it - so this seems like as much as it's a first for Ed to take even some accountability, it's probably the first time some of the crew have seen a captain (or anyone else) do this too.

Archie says 'They just get away with it and we move on'.

Lucius rounds on Izzy, because obviously Izzy should have the biggest grievance here. But Izzy responds to the question about Ed's apology as if it was about piracy in general - clearly showing that the cycle of abuse is a feature, not a bug. This is part of his life and identity as a pirate. This is, actually, things going back to normal. You get whipped (and we see these scars on him later) no one apologises, and you just reset to how it was before, pretending nothing has been altered until it all bubbles over again.

Ed then tells stede that he's never apologised for anything. Confirming that most of the crew's responses are in line with their past experiences.

Then Ed goes to fix the door and tells it that it's not its fault that it's broken, it was just doing it's job. This directly parallels Izzy's rant to the figurehead about it failing to do it's job. Ed could be talking about himself here, as Izzy was talking about himself - but to me it doesn't fit that well, because what 'job' was Ed trying to do? He could instead be acknowledging, indirectly, that he is aware that Izzy was doing his job - trying to make sure they all survived and functioned as a crew. Ed probably broke that door, and he broke Izzy. But he has yet to talk to him about it.

Immediately following this, is when he scares the BEJESUS out of Lucius and tells him 'it would be faster to get all this out in one go'. It sounds like a reasonable suggestion, but we know that it doesn't actually work. Lucius pushes him off the boat and it doesn't help. Because 'I hurt you, so now you hurt me' doesn't benefit the abused, it's still about making the abuser feel better - making them feel punished and therefore redeemed, even when their victim isn't healed. I don't think Ed is trying to manipulate Lucius here - both of them think it might help to 'fix things' but fixing things takes emotional intelligence that's not really developed yet.

ENTER, THE SHARK

Izzy starts working on the shark, after the non-apology. He doesn't have it in the 'candle fighting' scene obvs - but he does receive an apology in that scene, when stede says 'feet' and then corrects himself to foot. It's a simple straightforward apology, even if he does sort of laugh awkwardly. Izzy also at least attempted to apologise to Stede in ep. 3 - so he clearly sees the use in apologies - AND right after the apology, Izzy agrees to help stede. Their relationship changes. It gets better and they're no longer stuck in those old patterns. Izzy is full-on gentle parenting stede - even when he shoots down a fucking sail.

He also, notably, states that the crew's feelings on the curse are important. Meaning, how the crew feels is important to him, period.

After this, we're back to Lucius throwing Ed overboard. But it doesn't work because Ed doesn't remember the talent show thing, he doesn't really know why Lucius was so blindsided by that betrayal of trust. It's not about who goes overboard. It's about the dynamics underneath that and those can't be fixed by just trading places for a moment.

FINALLY. We see Izzy finishing the shark, and he's completely unsurprised that Lucius pushing Ed into the water didn't fix things. Izzy's done this 'tit for tat' thing - betraying Ed to the English over being banished - and it ended terribly for both of them. It escalated things. He knows it's not as simply as getting even with someone.

The solution Izzy has chosen to the cycle of his relationship with Ed is to pretend that Ed hasn't done anything to him. A shark did it. Like with the non-apology, blame is being shifted to a third party 'the bad things' the 'bad times'. Lucius (rightly) points out that this is not healthy, but Izzy's response, that's better than not moving on, clearly resonates.

Izzy's response to being hurt was to 1. Get even and 2. (when that proved deeply unsatisfying and made things worse) to put the unresolved conflict behind him. Because he doesn't think Ed is ever going to apologise or change, and wanting those things just hurt more.

Anyone who has parents/a partner/friend who's NEVER apologised for anything, knows how he's feeling. You stop trying to have it out and fix the relationship, and it starts to wither, even though the other person thinks it's healthy.

'Not moving on is worse' is a warning, and it's one that Lucius takes to heart, immediately trying to centre positive things instead of resentment and anger. He shares his feelings with Pete, and their relationship thrives.

The issue here, is that denial doesn't work. Lucius might be able to move on from what happened to him without a proper apology from Ed, but that's because he's not in a relationship with him. Izzy's the one who's really in it with Ed - he's had DECADES of this shit. That can't be willed away.

Stede's resolution to the curse conflict models a healthier method and one that I'm hoping we see in a future episode between Ed/Izzy. He validates the crew's feelings, make a sacrifice (the suit) and TOGETHER they collaborate on a solution to the issue that is mutually satisfactory - he even gets to keep the shirt, as a sort of compromise. It isn't about just making stede or the crew feel better, it's about moving on together.

This happens with Ed and Fang! Ed actually apologises once he realises what, specifically he did wrong. Fang says they're 'sweet' because he beat Ed to death (oof) which outwardly seems like retaliation working - but there has also been an actual apology and Fang wasn't retaliating against Ed, he was standing up for himself - a physical version of saying 'that wasn't OK - you need to change'.

This method of resolution is echoed in the final scene, with stede and ed. They reach an understanding about the pace of their relationship and find a happy medium (holding hands) - mutually satisfied and moving forwards.

Bottom line? I hope we see 1. Ed actually apologise to Izzy and 2. the pair of them outline what it is they want to change in their relationship moving forward, ending the cycle for good.

Thank you for coming to my Ed talk.

#ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 #izzy hands #edward teach #lucius spriggs #sprigghands #ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #blackhands #edizzy #israel hands #thank you for coming to my ed talk

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codenamethebird · 21 days

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Ok here's a little (not really) analysis/theory post about Hades 2, because I'm obsessed. Its consumed all my thoughts. And I need to talk about a theme I think will (hopefully) be addressed as the game progresses.

Here's some examples of dialogue that starts to touch on this conflict between mortals and the gods. What exactly do mortals deserve? We also have literal Icarus "flew too close to the sun" here too (and probably Pandora). Chronos was able to sway many to his side with a promise of a golden age without the gods, which is presented by the narrative as a foolish venture. And not saying it isn't, or that Chronos is the secret good guy here, but I believe Chronos is taking advantage of a very real hurt that exists for mortals.

This line from Nemesis really stood out to me, because it implies that while mortals have a concept of evil, the gods don't. Which sounds ridiculous but the more you think about it makes total sense. The gods in Hades (and just greek myth in general), are kind of the worst. They are petty and selfish, they literally attack you if their boon isn't picked first, and most vitally in this context, often utterly disregard mortals.

For example, one of the things that drove me a little crazy in Hades 1, was how chill everyone was with Demeter's never ending winter. Demeter was killing possibly millions upon millions of mortals and everyone else just sort of let it happen. Maybe complained a bit because it was annoying to them, but just stood by. And that's just one example. Mortal's have a very valid reason to hate the gods.

And considering we have more areas of the surface to explore that aren't out yet, I have a feeling Melinoë is going to be meeting some of these discontent mortals. And my hope is they are going to be nuanced characters, that will challenge Melinoë not just in a fight, but her very ideals.

Because Melinoë is very deferential to the gods, waaaaaay more that Zag ever was. Unlike Zag, who was more like a bro to them and was willing to suck up to them for personal gain, Melinoë seems to genuinely mean all the respect she gives them. She praises them, defends them when they are insulted, and just generally very polite to them.

In a smaller scale, she describes Hypnos as having a wisdom about him and can somehow sense her intensions while asleep. Which as Nem implies, the version in Melinoë's head doesn't exactly line up with reality (though sidebar, I am a believer in Chekov's Hypnos and that he's going to somehow save the day and put Chronos in a never ending sleep or something, but that's beside the point haha).

Melinoë's reverence to the gods makes total sense of course. She was denied her family and a happy childhood, and because of that has glorified them all in her head. The Olympians are sending her vital aid on her holy mission for vengeance and to save her family, even as their own home is being attacked, how honorable of them!

And I think part of Melinoë's arc is that perfect picture of them breaking into pieces. Yes, they are the better of the two options between them and Chronos, but that doesn't mean they aren't also kind of the worst. That mortals deserve better than frivolous gods that can decide on a whim their fates for better or worse (love u Moros but I'm still fucked up over you and your sisters giving mortals horrible doom endings when you were bored. At least he feels bad now but still. Perfect example of gods even when not intending to having horrific consequences for mortals). And maybe like how Zag healed relations with his family, Melinoë can start repairing relations between the Gods and Mortals.

#hades 2 #hades game #hades ii #hades supergiant #hades #I also realized after finishing this that another example of the gods being shit is with Heracles #and considering how little dialouge of his is out yet #im super curious of what that'll bring about #but yeah as I said in the middle of this #I really want at least of the mortals in Chronos's army to be a proper character that interacts with Melinoë #oooooh maybe they can foil Melinoë and their family was killed due to some godly interference #theres just so much potential #hades 2 spoilers #edit: ahhhh i forgot my girl Arachne im sorry best girl #but yes further proving my point

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strawberrymochin · 1 month

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Springtime Fushiguros♪

Context-: exploring the memories of childhood of fushiguros, marking the spring time of you and satoru gojo.

Lullaby-: Megumi caught cold so you sing a lullaby to help him fall asleep. (Jealous gojo)

As much as you love the smell of freshly wet soil during rainy season; the sound of water droplets pouring down from the dusky clouds, kissing the earth; the croaking of the frogs— megumi hates it.

Due to the weather changing season and unfortunate circumstances, last day he came back from school, totally drenched in rainwater. Not to mention, his drenched hair, reminded you of his striking resemblance to his late father—toji fushiguro.

You have only seen him once, when shoko introduced his photo to you as the zenin guy born without any cursed energy; who killed riko amanai. And who almost killed your— nvm. You don't even wanna recall those days. It hurts too much.

Thankfully, gojo was out for a mission along with ijichi and he wasn't about to return till tomorrow morning. He would probably shout out loud, clinging up to you, asserting his precious megumi being possessed by toji.

As for now you've tucked him to bed, beside Tsumiki, after feeding him chicken and bok choy soup especially including ginger with mushrooms cuz that's how he likes it. It will help unblocking his sinuses, getting rid of his cold faster.

You exit the kids room, switching off the lights.

You were almost done with dishes, scrubbing off the rice bowl of tsumiki, humming a tune, close to your heart, which you have no idea where you picked up from, unaware of a tall shady figure approaching you.

All of a sudden you felt two arms sneaking around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Wh—" your squeak was cut off shortly, by a hand pressed to your mouth, "shh! baby...wouldn't want the kids to wake up." Satoru' velvet voice coaxed you to calm down. His warm breath fanned near your neck, as he slowly trailed kisses over there.

"You were supposed to come back tomo—" a gasped as gojo bit on the shell of your ear, "finished the mission fast," he said, "so I can spend the night with you", nibbling on your ear.

He pushes his pelvis forward, so it touches your lower back, slowly grinding on you as his hands roam on your body, trying to memorize every curve, remembering the bliss of having you close to him.

You figured out he teleported inside the apartment as the door was locked and gojo doesn't carries house keys with him since he would loose it somewhere.

"Satoru i haven't finished doing the dishes" you say as he presses kisses on you shoulder blade.

"We can finish that later. I need you." He says, removing the bowl from your hand, opening the tap to wash your hand. "Need you so bad." You could feel his voice longing with desire as he turns you around hastily.

You find your hands wrapped around his neck, his lips locked on yours, tongue slipping in. Every ounce of oxygen disappeared from your lungs as you were making out with him.

"Aachho"

Your eyes widened as you push satoru away hard, whipping your head to the side to see the door knob twisting.

Megumi comes out rubbing his nose looking for you.

"Megumi you need something?" You ask, trying to cool down your racing heart.

"I can't sleep." He walks up to you, dragging his blanket, practically mopping the floor.

"If you can't sleep then go to bed and count sheeps." Megumi gets startled at the voice, which he recognise as his sensei's.

"Why are you here?"

"Cuz it's my house."

"Weren't you supposed to come tomorrow? Why are you early?" The kid expresses his disappointment.

"And weren't you supposed to be asleep now? Why are you up disturbing my mome—" your sharp glare ceases gojo's further words.

"Then, how 'bout i sing a lullaby to you? It will help you fall asleep. Kk." You say, turning your head to Megumi, guiding him to your bedroom.

"Wait—so he's sleeping with us?" Gojo questions stopping you midway.

"Yeah. And yeah please finish the dishes before you join us. Let's go 'gumi." You vanish into your bedroom along with Megumi.

"Such a cock-block" he whispers, leaning on the counter, rolling up his sleeves before getting started with the dishes, beefing about him. " He gets to cuddle with my y/n more than I do. Damn it."

[ A few moments later ]

Gojo enters, as your soft humming echoes through the room.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

The moonlight catcher reflected several lights, twinkling around the room as you layed there along with Megumi, patting him to sleep.

How I wonder what you are!

He couldn't help but wonder; wonder what you are; how did he get so lucky? To have you behind his back.

Up above the world so high,

He needs you like one needs oxygen to breathe; he would search for you in every birth like river searches for sea. His eyes would be yearning, dying for one look of yours since you are the only world he has ever known.

Like a diamond in the sky.

You may have no idea, but the only star in his sky, whose shine would even fade diamonds is you.

Megumi's asleep. You sit up straight, looking at gojo, leaning at the door frame. You tilted your head, smiling apologetically.

Gojo sighs playfully, straighting up himself, walking past the bedroom door. A few secs later he brings in a sleeping tsumiki, cradled in his arms, laying her beside Megumi, tucking them into warm blankets as gojo joins in.

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ooffmlsorry · 7 months

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One Piece Men Take You on a Nice Vacation

A/N: Well I did a poll and y'all definitely wanted this! Let's be serious so did I. I so desperately wanna go on vacation and leave my cares behind for a week. Alas, my imagination is all I've got 😔

Characters: Monster trio, Law, Koby

ZORO

Vacation? Did you forget who your boyfriend is? Zoro is the epitome of "No days off 😤"

I think what's more likely is y'all ended up getting lost together and it turns into an impromptu vacation

But that doesn't mean it isn't nice to essentially go camping together

You're incredibly lucky, there's a nice waterfall and river, the weather stays beautiful and the nights are crisp and clear

Once you convince him it's better to stay put and wait for the others to finally find you, it becomes a really relax retreat

Zoro still insisting on training, but that's a given. You probably train with him sometimes since you're dating, but otherwise it's the longest uninterrupted peace you've had since joining the crew

Just imagine sitting together with your feet in the cool river water, fishing in comfortable silence. The two of you wade in the stream together and splash each other, cook what you caught, cuddle around the campfire, and look up at the stars at night just talking

The privacy is perfect because it allows you two connect without worrying about any of the your crew mates

Zoro's even admittedly a little surprised by how much he enjoys being alone with you (it definitely gives him thoughts about what your future together could look like)

It's something the two of you look back on incredibly fondly, and if you happen to get lost on an island again...maybe for once Zoro did it intentionally

SANJI

This man is so serious about taking you a vacation, it's the time of your life

He's such a mom though lol. He cooks a shit ton before he leaves with you so the crew can reheat it and still have nutritious meals while their cook is away

He owes Nami so much berri, but since it's for a romantic vacation with you, the interest isn't too bad 🤭

I'd imagine it's somewhere with lots to do and lots to see like Gran Tesoro or Sabaody (*ignoring how fucked they are in context of the story, I just mean a place like that)

Unlike something impromptu accidental like Zoro's, he's planned out everything. A spa day, mani/pedi, sightseeing, shopping, really nice dinners.

You dance around together in your hotel and watch the fireworks and the city lights at night. Not to mention Sanji looks extremely handsome in the glow of it.

He absolutely spoils you! All in the name of how much he appreciates and loves you

And for what it's worth you don't let him forget how much it means to you...whenever you're not utterly speechless. It's more like the two of you spoil each other lol

The two of you have a lot of fun together, living in your own rose-colored world

As much as this is about you, you Sanji sometimes wishes he lived in a fairy tale world and this is it. It's just the breather you both need.

LUFFY

You kind of have to explain to him what a vacation is at first because he thinks you're just asking about going on an adventure with him🤭

Once he does understand the concept, he's pretty gung ho about it! Well, the "relaxing" part of a vacation sounds kind of dull to him but going somewhere just the two of you sounds awesome!

He kind of just springs it on you. You mentioned it once in passing and then a week later you're on a random island together and the Sunny is sailing off to pick you guys up in a week

It's not really a vacation spot, it's just a normal island he's never been to before (because he still doesn't quite understand the difference between a vacation and an adventure) but it's nice. It's somewhat reminiscent of Loguetown or Mock Town

You still have a great time with it's charm and the fact that there's little to no Marines around means you get peace in that aspect

That's the only kind of peace you get though lol

The two of you go all over the place, trying different food, poking around the jungle and in shops, and possibly getting into a little bit of trouble

Every night the two of you crash and sleep in as much as you want, wake up whenever you want and eat as much and whenever you want

It's kind of like a long sleepover with no parents around to keep you in line

As fun as it is you'll probably start to miss the routine of living as a Straw Hat and Luffy's itching to get back to the open seas!

LAW

Law pales at the thought of a vacation, but he's not above it for the people he loves

It's absolutely not his idea though...He was trying to think of something nice for your birthday and the crew told him how stressed you've been lately (plus have seen him? He needs a damn break and they also want him to relax)

He has everything planned down to the minute. When you're going, where you're going, what you're doing, when you'll be back. This man has a whole goddamn itinerary prepared tailored to your wants.

I feel like you guys would go to a place reminiscent of Dressrosa or Water 7 (*again ignoring the in-story horrors lol), something with really beautiful architecture and lots of history.

That plan turns more into more like a rough guideline no he's not upset about it look away but it's okay because you both needed the rest and a little less rigidity does Law some good

It's okay to stumble into a bookstore and get lunch two hours later than you planned, you swear

You two mostly avoid the tourist traps, except the historical ones because they're pretty cool and you learn a lot. Walking down the streets, hand in hand (yes, you get Law to hold you hand in public, it's the small wins okay?)

He can't stop working entirely, but that gives you time to do a little exploring on your own...not to mention you're completely surprised by how he pulls you into his lap as soon as you return

Being alone together makes him realize how important you are to him. There's not nearly as much crowding his mind when he's on vacation and all that free space up there is filled with his love for you

He's also kind of surprised how much he likes you outside of the Heart Pirate's rigid routine. Seeing you dressed up and not prepared for the sea, but rather a nice dinner, is a shock to his system. The fact that you're pretty much two normal people and nothing is falling apart surprises him. Maybe, he thinks, the two of you should do this more often

KOBY

A/N: Koby is literally my baby boy, cuppy-cake, sugar plum, pumpkin. He's so precious. Just a perfect lil guy 🥹💞 if Law is my husband, then Koby is my son

Oh lord, he's sweating lol

You? Wanna go on vacation with him? Alone? He's so flustered! Such a big step!

But he's really happy and super excited!! He definitely has a little countdown going on on his calendar

I could definitely see you guys having a beach type vacation, somewhere with a pier/boardwalk with all kinds of games and maybe a few cheap rides too

He'd absolutely win you a prize, and even better if you beat him and win him a prize

The photo booth pictures you end up taking are so cute and he keeps them forever

You hang out on the beach and build a massive sand castle, y'all probably get a terrible sunburn or at least Koby does 🤭

And at night you take nice long walks, listening to waves and collecting shells that catch your attention

The vacation is good for you, but it's also good for him to be out of the Marine environment for a minute

He gets to enjoy the results of all of his hard work and it makes him incredibly grateful that you're by his side, and when he tells you as such it's a long stuttering speech but he makes it through

Don't be surprised that he's awake at least 2-3 hours before you but that just means he gets time to think about what you're gonna do and be completely captivated as you sleep beside him

Those photo booth pictures? He keeps them in his jacket now. Whenever he gets overwhelmed or feels homesick he'll either look at them or pat his pocket to remind himself of those moments with you

#one piece #one piece x you #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #law x y/n #luffy x reader #koby one piece #koby x reader

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matchingbatbites · 1 year

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2112 Days | Ao3 link

tw: memory loss

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is. The last thing he remembers from the night before is the party all piled up in his living room, everyone too anxious to sleep, and now he's in a bedroom that he has absolutely no memory of.

He looks around the unfamiliar room, tries to get a sense of what the fuck is going on, and on the nightstand next to him, he finds a tape recorder sitting on top of a photo album. On the tape recorder is a sticky note, with the words 'play me' written across the yellow paper in scratchy handwriting.

Steve is so confused and frustrated, he doesn't have time for this, they have a plan to carry out. But something deep inside him keeps him in place. Tells him to play it. He picks up the device and sees another note on the album, this one reading 'open me', and he presses play on the tape recorder before grabbing the book.

There's a little bit of sound fuzz before a voice says "Good morning, Stevie!" and Steve blinks, because that's Eddie's voice.

"Today is Saturday, August 29th, 1992, and it's been 5 years, 9 months, and 12 days since we killed Vecna and closed the gates permanently."

Steve's hand jerks out and stops the tape, his breathing picks up because what the fuck? That can't be right, they're supposed to fight Vecna today. That's why they all stayed at Steve's house. One more sleepover, one more chance to be there for each other before they have to split up, before they have to finish the job.

He takes a moment to just breathe, lets the words sink in as he opens the photo album. It takes him a second to realize it, but the first picture is of himself, in a hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head and a tube down his throat. He looks bad, and he doesn't remember a single second of it.

There's more of that scratchy writing just below it. ‘November 20, 1986. Taken by one of Owen’s guys.’ The next page has a doctor's report, and Steve sees the words 'brain injury' and 'short term memory loss' before he continues.

He flips through the album, sees more pictures of himself that he doesn't remember being taken. Each one has a date next to it, and some have a little description to give him context. There are photos of him with the party, with Robin and Eddie and Nancy, and there are news articles scattered amongst them, important things he should remember, that make his head hurt when he tries too hard to do so.

There are pictures of Nancy and Robin's graduation from college, Wayne's wedding to some woman named Cynthia, the grand opening of Jonathan and Argyle's pizza shop.

A photo of him and Eddie, wearing tacky sweaters and kissing under mistletoe, with the description '1987, Our first Christmas together', and oh, that's something that sends tingles up his spine. He'd had more than a crush on Eddie before their second run in with Vecna, but he hadn't had the courage to do anything about it before they ran head first into danger, again.

Are he and Eddie together now? Like, together together?

The answer seems to be yes, because the next few pages are just more photos of him and Eddie, most taken by Eddie himself, his arm stretching out to capture the moment. Pictures of their first apartment, multiple anniversaries, the day they got their cat (Lucy is written next to this one in Steve’s handwriting, along with a little heart).

And then a photo that makes Steve's heart stop. It's them again, standing on a beach, hand in hand as they face each other. They're both barefoot, wearing slacks and nice shirts, Eddie's a deep, wine red, and Steve's a soft baby blue, and the love on their faces is blinding.

The description says 'June 15, 1991, Our wedding. Not legal, but very, very real.'

And Steve looks at his hand, for the first time sees the gold ring on his finger, like it's perfectly happy at home there, and he thinks he might start crying.

On the bottom of the page is his own handwriting, a small addition that just says 'play the tape.' Steve glances over, presses play again with a shaky hand, and Eddie's voice starts up once more.

"You got pretty banged up during the fight, and your many knocks to the head finally caught up with you. You have some extensive brain trauma, and your short term memory is basically non-existent.

"It's okay, though. You're not alone, you've got tons of people that care about you, baby. The Upside Down stuff is all over, there haven't been any blips on the radar or anything. The kids are all okay - scattered to the wind, but okay.

"Robin's in town today, we're meeting her for lunch at noon, but you've got plenty of time before then. Finish looking through the album, and as soon as you're ready, come find me in the house. Just follow the sound of music, baby. I love you."

The tape ends, and Steve takes a minute to process. He flips through the rest of the album, pictures dated all the way up to a month ago, when he and Eddie had apparently visited Nancy in New York.

It hits him that this is real, this is his reality. He looks at the tape recorder, thinks that this must be an everyday thing for Eddie, and he's suddenly overcome with emotion for the other man.

He climbs out of bed and grabs the tape recorder before he heads out of the room, hears music coming from somewhere, and follows it to a kitchen.

And there's Eddie, with his hair pulled up into a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and humming along to the tape that's playing on a nearby stereo. There are more tattoos inked into his skin, more piercings in his ears, and Steve can see that yeah, he has aged a little.

"Eddie?" he says softly, and the older man turns to look at him with a bright smile.

"Morning, Stevie. How are you feeling today?"

Overwhelmed, Steve thinks, but he swallows hard and holds up the tape recorder. "Do you record these for me every day?"

Eddie's smile softens at the question and he motions Steve closer. "You ask me that too often, like you just can't believe I'd do something like that for you."

Steve goes over to him, sets the device on the counter as one of Eddie's hands settles on Steve's waist, the other moving up to cup his cheek. "I can't believe it, it's so-" Kind? Selfless?

Steve doesn't have the proper word to describe it, and it only adds to that overwhelmed feeling. Eddie's thumb strokes over his cheekbone and he hums softly.

"It's worth it for you, sweetheart. After all the shit we’ve been though, that you’ve been through, you deserve a normal life, and I swore do everything in my fucking power to make sure that happens."

And Steve is definitely crying now. The fact that Eddie has been doing this for almost six years, that he's stayed by Steve through it and hasn't given up on him? The effort he’s put into helping Steve feel somewhat normal? It's too much for Steve to comprehend, and Eddie pulls him into a tight hug, mutters softly softly into his ear as he starts to sob.

"I know, baby. It's okay."

They stay like that for a while, until Steve's tears slow, then stop, and he's able to breathe normally again. "Sorry," he mutters and scrubs a hand over his face, and Eddie shakes his head.

"Don't apologize, Steve. This happens sometimes, and it's perfectly okay. It's a lot to process all at once, and we just take it a day at a time, yeah?"

"Yeah, okay," Steve says, and takes another deep breath. He thinks back to the album, to the photos of him and Eddie, and he knows exactly what he wants in this moment. "Will you kiss me, please?"

And Eddie smiles, says "Of course, honey."

It feels right when Eddie kisses him, and it's weird, because he doesn't remember ever kissing Eddie before now, but it's like his body does, like it knows all of the steps to this dance that his brain can't remember.

They stay in the kitchen for a while just kissing and talking, Eddie answering all of Steve's questions with such patience, until it's time to go meet Robin.

Later that night, just as Steve is dozing off, he feels Eddie pull away before getting out of the bed.

"Where 're you goin'?" he mutters, and Eddie cards a hand through his hair.

"Gotta go record your tape for tomorrow. Just go back to sleep, baby."

Steve hums his disapproval and hears Eddie chuckle, before a kiss is pressed to his forehead. "I'll see you in the morning, gorgeous."

When Steve wakes up in the morning, he doesn't know where he is.

#i love 50 first dates and brain-injury-haver steve so i combined them together #they live in a tiny queer beach side town #and everyone knows steve and his condition #and they're all super supportive and helpful #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things #joey writes #2112 days

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tuktukpodfics · 1 year

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The Problem With "Dao Swords": My love-hate relationship with pleonastic translations

An essay that no one asked for.

A lot of fanfics call Zuko’s broadswords “dao swords.” As a Chinese to English translator, this phrase makes me pause every time. Here is my humble opinion on “dao swords” and other pleonastic translations:

What the heck is a pleonastic translation?

I’m so glad you asked! “Pleonasm” is a fancy term for a redundant phrase, like “black darkness” or “burning fire.”

A pleonastic translation is a phrase that puts the source language and the translation back-to-back. A common example is “chai tea” which literally means “tea tea.”

“Dao swords” is a pleonastic translation. “Dao” 刀 is the Chinese blanket term for blade. The phrase basically means “sword swords.” Sounds pretty silly, right?

Pleonastic translations are bad?

I think it depends on your audience, the text purpose, and how special the word is.

In advertising, pleonastic translations can help increase a product’s searchability. Ex: “Longjing Dragonwell tea” would appear in a Google search for either “longjing” or “dragonwell.”

Tourist destinations often use pleonastic translations to help foreigners navigate. Ex: “Nanzhan South Station” on a map helps foreigners know what the place is, but also gives them the Chinese pronunciation so that they can communicate with their taxi driver.

In literature, a pleonastic translation is a succinct way to introduce a culturally significant term without a footnote or distracting tangent. A lot of translators will sneak in a pleonastic translation the first time the word appears in a text, and then use the untranslated term alone every time after. Ex: "He slouched on the kang bed-stove. His grandmother sighed and took a seat on the kang too.”

Is "dao" a culturally significant word?

No.

Dao is a super mundane word used to describe any kind of single-edged blade, from butter knives to ice skates. It feels weird to keep such a normal word untranslated. Using the Chinese word emphasizes its foreignness. They’re not just swords, they’re special, Chinese swords.

Yes, words take on different meanings as they pass from culture to culture. That’s how language works. But English is also a unique case. Because of imperialism. I think English speakers have an obligation to avoid exotifying every-day words.

Also, English is a global language. Chinese speakers are reading your translation, and…I dunno...“sword swords” feels off putting. Disruptive.

But I want to acknowledge the real-life culture behind the swords

Giving credit to the cultures that you're borrowing from is an A+ idea.

...I don't know how to do this in a fantasy setting.

Zuko’s swords and fighting style is based on oxtail sabers (牛尾刀）and Shaolin dual broadswords (少林双刀). @atlaculture has a very cool post on oxtail sabers. But calling his swords "oxtail sabers" doesn't work because cows don't exist in atla. Shaolin is a type of martial arts that originates from Shaolin temple in Henan, China (Shaolin itself literally means “young forest”). But you can’t call them “Shaolin broadswords," since Shaolin does not exist in the Fire Nation.

It’s quite a pickle.

Maybe just use a footnote?

So what should I call Zuko’s swords?

I don’t know.

I think you can just call them broadswords. That’s what the TV show calls them.

Dao by itself could work too if you need to differentiate Zuko's dao from Sokka's jian (double-edged blade). Readers can probably figure out what dao means from context.

If it’s not clear from context what dao means? *sigh* ..."Dao swords" it is, I guess.

To end on a happier note, here is a video of Chang Zhizhao busting some sweet moves.

youtube

#atla #dao swords #shaolin #zuko #transaltion #dual broadswords #thank you for coming to my tedtalk #Youtube

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yuri-is-online · 2 months

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Sorry for making you explain all the yutus but can you do Jades? Bros gotta be so overprotective 😬

Jokes on you I am always down to talk about Jade Leech (my beloved)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here. I think I typed up way more for this than anyone else up to this point, I'd apologize but it has been a second since I brain rotted about Jade, so excuse me for feeding myself (づ_ど)

Put yourself in Jade's shoes for a second. He is a merfolk from the coral sea, only able to appear human through the use of a potion but still retaining his inhuman features. He tries hard to appear human, he goes to a boot camp where so many things have to be explained that he is able to mimic but doesn't fully understand. There's no reason for you to like him, he knows that better than anyone; he doesn't fully understand why he's attracted to you himself but he is. And he longed after you for so long, he was drowning in his desire that had such a little chance of being reciprocated but by some miracle it was. You stay in Twisted Wonderland, you let him take you under the sea and agree to be kept there. You're going to give him a family, he's beyond excited and filled with feelings of love he didn't think he'd ever get to have.

And then it's gone. There's no evidence as to why, no one to tell him where you went. Azul starts off confident, excited at the prospect of revenge and encouraging Jade. They'll find them, between him, Jade, and Floyd they'll find Yuu and someone will have a very bad day. But there's nothing, they're being lied to and stonewalled at every turn and when finally (it's been 10 months 3 weeks and two days, he could count down to the hours and seconds but who would listen?) Riddle of all people contacts them with a lead, he's dead almost immediately. Turned into a phantom, all of those friends of yours he was so jealous of too… no one is telling him but he knows. You're not coming back, he's never going to meet your child, he failed at a moray's one job of protecting his cleaner shrimp. When he's alone he talks to you both sometimes, nights when you can see the stars are becoming increasingly rare as the sky flares up with ink but he likes to think you found your way up to the sky.

When he loses Floyd and Azul he sort of loses his will to live. The only thing that keeps him going is the promise of one day being able to lay them both to rest eventually, but until then he bar tends at NRC and listens to all the little things people talk about when the world is ending. If he was in a better place he'd probably find it funny how lose people's lips are getting, Azul’s business would be doing so well if he were here now…

That's what he's doing one day in September when one of the mage students runs up to him out of breath, Sehrish he thinks her name is?

“The headmage needs you in the hospital wing!” She sounds scared, out of breath like she's run the whole way and Jade is just curious enough to go. Something spurs him on to run himself, through the mirror and into the wing and-

He doesn't even hesitate, his body acts before his brain does launching him towards you and grasping desperately at your hands. They're cold, you're going cold and he doesn't have the warmth in his body to give you. Something has mercy on him and let's your eyes open just the bit as you reach just as desperate to be close to him as he is to you and he feels your strength pass into him.

“Don't apologize.” He manages to whisper.

“But I'm sorry.” You cry. “I love you so much and I couldn't forget even though they wanted me to.”

“Who did this. Who took you just name them and I promise you my pearl-” he gets to kiss you one more time before your gone. Jade doesn't move, he thinks Crewel is yelling for his attention but he can't move, he wants to stay here forever he has to protect you, why wasn't he able to protect you?!

“Oh holy fuck that tastes bad.” There's a dazed voice Jade has never heard before, heavy with sorrow, and though he doesn't quite have it yet, Jade feels purpose begin to return to his heart.

Jade! Yutu is a menace. I like the idea of him being some form of punk or goth, with piercings and a few tattoos that Yuu doesn't know anything about. He grew up with a small group of close knit alt friends who would come over to Yuu's house and shoot the shit. Yuu was really popular with Yutu's friends actually, he had mixed feelings about that. (No, his parent isn't accepting step-father applications, Joshua, keep running your mouth and see what happens)

Has a mixed ranged of emotions about his parent's amnesia. When he was younger not knowing who his dad was made him really sad, he'd listen to other kids talk about doing things with their fathers and he'd dream about doing them with his dad, but the picture was always blurry and felt just... wrong somehow. As he gets older and starts forming his world view he starts to think his dad might have left Yuu for any number of reasons. Did it happen before or after their amnesia, that's what he wants to know.

He has a pretty big problem with authority, residual trauma from the trip across worlds he thinks now… but back in your world he just didn't see the point of respecting someone just because they have more money and power than him. Almost everyone does, that doesn't make them special! But he's so sneaky about it, if it weren't for his clothes or his friends Yuu would hardly know what he gets up to in his spare time. It put a bit of strain on their relationship, Yutu sees his lies as something he does to protect his parent, while Yuu sees themselves as well. A parent. Who is the one who should be protecting their child not the other way around.

When he tries to pull similar stunts with Original Timeline! Jade he gets a rude awakening. He tries sneaking out to meet up with some friends only to find his dad sitting with them, polite smile on his face clearly reveling in how awkward he is making this. Oya, did Yutu think he was being slick? He's hurt, no really this is the first time Jade has had to fake cry in years, he'd almost forgot how. Didn't Yutu ever wonder where he got this from? Because he had to know it wasn't Yuu.

Jade! Yutu also played in a band in middle school and also played bass, it just wasn't a jazz trio or an upright bass. He would have liked continued to play in bands, but he shares his dad's issues with stage fright which makes it sort of difficult. He has tried his hand at writing his own music from time to time, but he's waaaaay too shy to ever play it for anyone other than the woods.

He really likes horror stories and cryptids, so he wasn't super afraid of the monsters when he first arrived in Twisted Wonderland. One round with Phantom Riddle changed that nonchalant attitude quick, and while he still is very attached to the stuff he read about back in your world he hates blot monsters and Twisted Wonderland fiends in general.

Speaking of those monsters, Jade hates Yutu fighting them. Father and son are an absolute nightmare for Crewel to deal with, one is threatening to drown him if Yutu is allowed to fight, the other is screaming curse words and saying it doesn't matter what Crewel does, he's going anyway. He needs a drink (but not from Jade's bar he's going to get poisoned)

I don't think Yutu actually told Jade he was planning on going back in time because he was angry and just assumed that he would try and stop him. He's really proud of himself for the first few weeks he spends in the past thinking he got one over on his old man finally (he didn't, but he did hurt him quite a bit), but the more he interacts with the younger version of his parents the more he starts to regret that decision.

Past Jade is so… fun. He thinks his dad is fun?! His weird obsession with mushrooms was never something they talked about beyond a few compliments his dad gave to a mushroom patch he had on his jacket; watching his old man prattle on now he never would have guessed any of this. Yutu never doubted that Jade loved you, but he didn't really think about what that looked like, or what you might have meant to Jade. They just didn't talk about it, now that he's forced to think about it Jade was probably trying to focus on having him back and how lucky he was to even have that. And instead of being honest about how angry he was to have lost you he lied and said he was fine. With how good his dad was at knowing when he was lying Jade had to know that's how he felt, but respected his boundaries and didn't push. All those comments about being there when he's ready to talk, all the times Jade said he loved him, and those long nights he watched from afar as Jade sat with tea next to your grave, just talking to you as if you were still there are put into context. Yutu isn't able to sleep for a few nights after that.

Jade finds Yutu interesting. He's a potential source of information about Yuu, a lot of his quirks remind him of himself and he finds the new kids blatant disrespect for authority to be hilarious! And hilariously good blackmail material, now now don't be afraid he really is just here to help...

"Nice try old man you won't pull shit out of me." Yutu sounds smug, but Jade knows when his spell has worked and when it hasn't; how delightful he doesn't seem to remember someone ever being so cocky about it before.

"That's a shame." He makes sure to make his face fall to keep the new kid off his guard as he continues his questioning. "It's just I am curious where did you come from? I thought Yuu's world doesn't have magic."

"I mean it doesn't, probably never would have been able to come back in time if I was still stuck there." Yutu blinks, clarity starting to come into view as Jade pushes through the surprise to ask a final question.

"Oya? And just why did you come back in time, were you worried about Yuu?"

"Of course I'm worried about my parent what sort of stupid question is-" Yutu returns to himself and treats Jade to a look of shock so rare and downright delightful he can't help but smile himself. "Hey just what did you do?"

Old man? What a disrespectful thing to call his father, no wonder his future self never told his son about his unique magic. Jade doesn't have time to doubt his affections for Yuu, once Yutu realizes he's fucked and can't get out of admitting that was the truth he tells Jade who he is and a bit about what the future is like. Jade can tell he's keeping a few details back, but he knows himself well enough to know that everything Yutu is describing would have changed him to a degree that he might not have been in the best mental space to help his son through the loss of Yuu.

Speaking of Yuu, Jade asks Yutu to keep his existence to himself for a bit. He wants to win over your affections without the help of the future looming in your thoughts, he only gets to have this part of his life with you once and he intends to savor it. But the confidence boost he gets from knowing you do end up as his mate does have him acting a bit goofy for a bit. Floyd and Azul are legitimately scared.

They are brought up to speed as Jade insists on introducing Yutu to them "properly" and he is every inch the proud father showing off their new baby to the relatives even though Yutu is practically his height and has a bunch of piercings. Floyd takes a liking to him immediately while Azul is a bit more awkward, not that he doesn't like Yutu he's just a lot different from anyone Azul has ever met before so he's unsure how to sell himself. Luckily he doesn't have to because Yutu appreciates his genuine self just like Floyd, Jade, and Yuu do.

Jade gladly invites Yutu to join the Mountain Lover's Club and is very excited when he says yes. Yutu finds a lot of enjoyment in helping his dad work mushrooms into Azul and Floyd's food by pretending to agree with their complaints. Floyd is so mad he calls Yuu and tells them to come get their kid.

The over protectiveness doesn't end exactly, but Yutu is more willing to understand and Jade is more able to explain himself. They're both extremely protective of Yuu and in sound agreement that nothing like Yutu's future can ever be allowed to come to pass. Jade wanted a family, so to learn that he got that and someone took it away from him? Future him was overwhelmed with grief but current him is overwhelmed with rage. Remember book four? He described what he would do to someone who betrayed him, and it wasn't pretty. His plans for whoever did this to his precious mate and child is going to get so much worse.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech x yuu

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