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cheralith · 11 months

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to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

#spider-man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #atsv miguel #across the spider verse x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #fem!reader

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wombywoo · 8 days

Note

do you have any ghostsoap favorite fics, perhaps?

boy do I....

I should preface this by saying that I'm pretty...particular with what types of fics I enjoy reading (I only like certain character interpretations/tropes/writing styles, etc) so bear with me...

These are all mostly canon-compliant, non-AUs, ones that I regard highly~

Seasons--by StinglessWasp: This is pretty much my go-to fic rec for anyone into CoD and ghostsoap in general. It showcases everything I love about these characters, in a setting that feels as authentic to the games as possible, while also exploring the depth and sincerity hidden under the surface. So well-written and paced--the dialogue and military references all contribute to that 'feels like a mission out of the game' experience. Plus, I just love this interpretation of our boys--the humor, the inner struggles, the intimacy--Wasp 100% *gets* these characters and it's a joy to read <3

Except You, You Can Stay--by Iravaid: While this one isn't *technically* ghostsoap until the last chapter, in my opinion, it's required reading for anyone who gives a shit about Simon Riley. This is *the* character study--an intimate dissection of Ghost's past that seems so realistic and grounded, you forget how ludicrous those comics really are. Ira takes such care in treating these heavy topics with delicacy and effectiveness. Each chapter has you going 'oh wow, this is even better than the last', but as a whole--it's a stunning, fleshed-out glimpse into Simon as the character he was always meant to be. And the final chapter which eases you into his relationship with Johnny is so authentic and sweet, it just makes perfect sense that they should be together, and that this poor poor man deserves some goddamn love <3

bleeding in the house of god--by revolvermonkcelot: This is a really great 'missing scene' fic, a perfect opportunity to explore the in-between moments that the game so carelessly chooses to gloss over. I can't praise Monk's writing enough--it's slick and crisp and very tasty; the imagery just jumps off the page and you can practically feel the sweat. Plus, the dialogue exchanges between our two boys are so well-timed and in-character--love all the slang and British references~ This whole fic reads like an addition to their mission flirting, and I'm all for it! You can truly tell this author has such deep understanding and experience with this franchise (winkwinkwink, this is a joke) Read it--it's good!

The Dead are all Living--by Kabbal: This fic blew me away when I first read it. It's such a unique take on the retirement trope, I just adore this interpretation of Simon as an aging recluse while he builds his home. I tend to lean towards more subtle, grounded characterizations of Mr Riley, and this really fits the bill. All of these glimpses and fragments into his post-military life contribute to an overarching love story; the scenes with Johnny are so poignant, it's like you're pining alongside them both. I love how not-perfect they are; flawed and difficult and real. There are some moments and lines that just....struck something in me so deeply. I'm sure I'll still be thinking about it for a long long time <3

Portrait of Taction--by a_platypus: Another Simon-centric fic that I absolutely love. The character voice in this is off the charts, I can hear him so vividly in all of his inner dialogue and stunted attempts at conversation. Simon is so endearingly dense in this fic, you're just waiting for him to finally get his act together, but the clumsy, oblivious steps he takes in his relationship with Soap are truly a treat to read. I love this version of Johnny too--confident and considerate, but still hopelessly crushing on his superior. It's comedic, well-written, and the paragraphs describing Soap's journal give some of the best insights into his character I've seen <3

come on, haunt me--by flyby2: This was a really good long fic that I took my time savoring. What could have been a typical 'on leave' fic instead took time to develop a unique spin on the backstories as well as throwing our boys into some wholesome encounters. Both Soap and Ghost felt very true to character, and I appreciate the exploration of PTSD and the subsequent struggles that come along with...all that. There was a really nice balance in having their romance spread across the chapters, and I can promise a very sweet, happy conclusion <3

in the mess of it all--by flowersferns: A lovely one-shot that exhibits some of my favorite aspects of these two characters. I'm a sucker for 'one of them is hurt, the other is freaking out, they are both idiots in love, etc'. There are some really great dialogue and character moments in this, plus the overall prose hits hard. Love this take on their romance--the mutual trust, the familiarity of their bond. And just the general theme of impermanence--the inevitability of what this relationship means for them--two soldiers, willing and ready to sacrifice their lives at a moment's notice, still clinging to each other because...god...that's all they have---big fan of this :'D <3

Lapsus--by Lisbetadair: Another really great one-shot and 'missing scene' fic. The authenticity in the writing is spot-on--it's like you can feel Soap's pain right off the bat. I love how smoothly the banter flows between the two, and the attention to detail and references all help lend to that 'hardened military man' exterior. Ghost smelling like flowers because of a face wipe is such a delightful addition, plus the scene where Soap is, ah, donald-ducking it in just a t-shirt with his jewels out is such a funny mental image, I still think of it fondly from time to time. It's funny, it's surprisingly cute, it's very in-character. Stick around for some awkward but adorable cuddles <3

I'm sure I have more to recommend, but these are the ones I can personally endorse for now~

#asks #fic rec #I've never actually done a fic rec list like this before...#a small glimpse into my nightly routine of browsing the ao3 trenches for something remotely readable 🫡#funny how most of these are Ghost centric...#I'm *very* particular on how I prefer Soap to be portrayed and wooo boy...is it a struggle 😔

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fanaticsnail · 19 days

Text

Will You Let Me?

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Word count: 4,500+

Synopsis: Your crew was docked at a port, exploring a new land while you requested to remain behind. Enjoying being without the unruly bunch, your momentary calm was disrupted by the staggering step of your superior. Coughs, grunts and stuttering over his words: your concern grew more severe as you offered to help him through it.

Themes: pollen!killer x gn!reader, NSFW, mdni, 18+, smut, penetration reader!receiving, swearing, dubcon, begging, pleading, apologising, bruising, crying, rough, do not read if you do not enjoy the trope, fluff at the end, semi-ooc.

Notes: first time writing gn!reader smut! I enjoyed the challenge, but forgive me if there's a word that is used incorrectly! I am still learning inclusive language.

Pollen is a fun trope to play with, but please do not read if you don't enjoy.

Apprehensive Tag List: @sordidmusings @remisloves @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @since-im-already-here @mfreedomstuff @icy-spicy

The hot sun shone over the wooden deck of the Victoria Punk. The soft waves gently rocked the boat with a subtle lull, the screech of gulls only aiding your heart to swell in merry solitude.

It was a rare occasion that you were tasked to remain behind while the crew explored a foreign area. Your skills as a linguistics specialist usually meant your silver tongue was called for to coax a good deal, or to decipher scratchings on cave walls. Considering this area was only a port meant for resupply, Captain Kid deemed your skills unnecessary for the journey in land.

Never one to complain, and genuinely giddy at the notion of being secluded and alone for a change, you jumped at the opportunity to stay with the Victoria Punk. You adored your ship, and decided to utilise the opportunity to check over her planks, ropes, and panels that may be in need for repair.

As the day went on, you did not expect a member of your crew to return so suddenly: especially the hulking masked figure of Massacre Soldier Killer. Being the first-mate, he was usually by Kid's side, no matter the circumstances.

Coughing, sneezing and sputtering: Killer’s right hand shot out to grasp your left shoulder. The firmness of his grip was bordering on painful, prompting you to wince in response to the hard strangulation of flesh.

“Something gross hit me in the face,” he strained from behind the teal and ivory mask, “Stuck in my chest and my throat. Not feeling good. Gotta-... fuck-... I gotta lie down or something.”

Concern and worry knit itself over your face, examining the staggering movement of Killer’s body as he retreated below deck. He stuttered and gripped onto the wooden beams, walls and ceiling to stabilize his movement: his body almost giving way beneath the pressure.

“Kil, do you need-,” you began, halting as his voice raised over the top of yours.

“-‘M fine. D-Don’t worry, ‘kay?” he called over his shoulder before disappearing below deck. His large figure seemed to both be inflated and deflated with a foreign paralysis in his choppy, staggered steps. The waves did nothing to sooth him in his glide throughout the halls.

As soon as he reached crew-quarters, he all but shredded his clothes and cast them away from his body. His skin was alite with violent lust, his hands moving against his will to fist, claw and paw at the erogenous zones of his torso, stomach, legs, and his puckered nipples.

He arched his back as his hands gripped the base of his already steel-like cock, immediately pumping it in his right fist. His left hand clawed at the flesh of his chest and lay flat over his heart as he felt the rise in fluttered rapidity.

Scraping and gripping downwards with his left hand, he pushed hard on the base of his stomach, feeling how tightly wound the banded coil was wound in the pit of his stomach: bound hard enough to snap. Every muscle was tense, firm and aching for relief. He began sniffling and sobbing behind his mask, never truly experiencing the shame in the desperation his body was craving before.

He was the only one who managed to not avoid the hessian bag of powdered flowers falling from the rooftop of the naturopathic remedy building. Apologetic calls echoed down from the roof before panic began to rise in the workers. Killer could scarcely process voices above the throbbing ache in his lower abdomen.

Barely hearing several repetitions of Kid’s voice calling: “Killer, are you alright? Kil, are you alright?” All Killer could do was splutter and cough through the burning in his chest.

Golden flecks danced over his eyes beneath the mask, the pollen sucked immediately through the holes and embedded several clusters within the circular orifices. No matter how many times he wiped at the mask with his hands, he continued to inhale the sticky-sweet smell of herbal flowers within deep gulps of his lungs.

“Get him back home!” a hushed voice hurriedly spat at Captain Kid, “He needs a companion, someone to take care of him while he's going through this. Someone caring and kind enough to-.”

“-Don't tell me what to do! Kil, you know the way back to the ship from here?” Kid’s voice barked at Killer, prompting the blonde to spark a moment of clarity in his progressingly foggy mind, “The linguist is back there. They'll take care of ya’ if ya’ need it, okay?”

“Okay,” Killer managed to stutter out, his body scorching hot and violently in need.

“Okay!” Kid parrotted back, looking at the shopkeeper, “Okay, great. Now that's settled, we need a couple things from you. Let's get that sorted before-."

As Killer continued fisting at his cock, he felt release on the tip of his tongue. His eyes were scrunched tightly shut and his lips were parted wide. Unbeknownst to him, each time he panted through his heavy inhales and exhales; more of the toxic pollen punctured his lungs and poisoned his bloodstream with arousal.

He was consumed with lust, a beast untamed and unbridled. There was no release for him, no relief that came thereafter. He was isolated, confused, scared and manic. He needed something, someone, anyone-.

“-No,” Killer spoke aloud in a strangled whisper, “Not anyone. I need the linguist. I n-need-... fuck-... I need my linguist. Where i-is my linguist?”

Continuing about your task of ensuring all of the ropes were properly coiled and laid, your heart began to pang with guilt. You decided to cast aside all further self-induced tasks and seek out the first-mate you serve beside, attempting to offer him comfort through his illness. He seemed so adamant about isolation, but you felt called to be by his side.

Venturing below deck, his painful strain of wanton moans called to you. Muffled groans of pain exhumed from the room, cries of anguish falling through the door. Your deepest sympathies clawed at you to push through the door. Your hand hesitated it's rise against the wooden panel, your body almost walking away before you heard a gentle and heartfelt cry of your name falling from Killers lips.

“I-If you're there,” Killer’s voice again called for you, “Please come in. Please,” he chanted your name with a soft, strangled moan, “Please. I need you.”

Immediately, your body moved against your will. Twisting the knob to crew quarters, you swung the door wide and was immediately met with the sight of your first mate: glistening in beads of sweat and shed of all but his teal and ivory face covering, and viciously pulling at his cock.

“Killer! Why did you tell me to come in if you were doing that?” you shouted in a harsh whisper, immediately slamming the door shut behind you and scrunching your eyes tightly shut, “I don't want to watch that!”

Thick silence aside from the cruel pistoning of his firm hand slapping against his lower stimach engulfed the air. Soft huffs of muffled pants escaped gritted teeth, Killer's mask doing the heavy lifting in silencing his cries for you.

“I don't want you to watch,” Killer confessed in a soft, breathy whine, “Please don't watch,” he keened for you, “Participate.”

“Killer!” you shot over your shoulder at him with a warning tone, “What are you-?”

“-I would never a-ask if I didn't-...” He trained off in a strangled whimper, desperately clenching down on his tongue with his teeth and biting back his needy sobs, “...I-I need you. I need you. Only you.”

“Kil,” you sighed at him, your concern written over you'd face, “Have you taken something? Was it the gross thing from earlier? Did that have an effect on you? Like a drug-?”

“-Look at me,” a barked command exited the holes in the mask, “Please, look at me,” he pleaded, gasping as he grasped at his cock, fisting the flesh and whimpering as he was brought to the brink of ecstacy once again, “Just look at me, please. I just need your eyes on me. Eyes on me.”

“Killer,” you whimpered, finally turning to face him. As soon as your eyes met with the icy stare beneath his mask, you were entranced. Your body propelled you against forward, called to serve the needs of the first mate in a hypnotic trance.

“I need you,” he sobbed, reaching for you with his left hand as his right continued beating his weeping cock, “Only you. Please, let me have you?”

Your body continued reacting against your will, your brain becoming foggy as Killer’s lust thickened the air with all-consuming need. Shame coursed just as heavily throughout your body as the arousal at just the thought of taking Killer’s cock into you began coursing through your veins.

“Please,” he whined, his eyes holding your own as you stripped yourself of your clothes, “Please,” his lips spilt as you straddled his lap, “Please,” as you immediately began sinking yourself down over the tip of his knob.

His precum did little to prepare you your your descent, focussing on your wanton need to have him within you to open your body up to receive him. Killer moaned your name, crying out with baited breath as you slowly consumed all of his length with the grip of your tight hole.

As soon as he felt your heat take his entire length, he was already a babbling mess. There was no strings of cohesive thought as his length became strangled within your tight center. He immediately began shooting your body full of ropes of thick release, ribbon after ribbon of his pale translucent ecstasy.

He cried out for you in warning before painting your walls white with his sticky cum. The pearly beads of his lust coated your tight hole immediately, strings of praise falling from his lips as he rode through his high with you fully impaled on his thick cock.

But he remained firm, hard and desperate for more.

“Wha-...” he began, his understanding of his own arousal and relief not aiding him in the slightest as he thrust up into you. He moaned as he sheathed his lengthy shaft deep within you again, your own arousal now taking over as you started to roll your hips against him while sat fully engulfed by him.

“Killer, what's going on?” you questioned him, your confusion and worry knit on your face, “You're s-still hard.”

“I-I am,” he confirmed, a soft mewl of bliss echoed beneath his mask as he rolled his hips up into you, “What’s happening to me?”

His hands found your hips, rocking you above him as he began feeling another wave of need course through his veins. As his hands embedded into your hips, you winced at the sting. His strength depicted in his grasp, gripping you like a lifeline anchoring himself to the world surrounding him.

He tried.

He tried so hard to be gentle.

He wanted to be gentle for you. Needed to be gentle for you.

But his grip turned sinister, turned brutal and unforgiving as he thrust up into you. His end was coming to a close as he chased it with you writhing and pleading on his lap. His desperation enticed him to continue bullying your tight center with vicious snaps of his bruising slaps.

“Kil,” you called for him, feeling his cock touch a depth within you that had your back arching and mewling for him, “Oh, Kil. I'm close.”

“Please,” he begged, desperately thrusting up into your lap as his end stampeded before his eyes, “Please cum. Please. N-Need it.”

“Killer,” you called for him, feeling the band weave ever tighter within your abdomen, spiraling and coiling within the pit of your stomach, “Kil I'm gonna-.”

“-Oh, fuck!” he roared, his body immediately betraying him as he coated your insides with ropes of hot, sticky, and heavy cum for the second time. His balls sucked up inside his body, his entire being screaming in relief as his release was once again began satisfying his unbridled lust for you.

But his cock still remained firm.

Your eyes clenched firmly shut, the corners wincing at the slight pinch as the coil snapped deep within you. White-hot ecstacy coursed through your veins, your body releasing your bliss over yours, and Killers, bodies as you rode through your high seated on his lap.

His hands were firm, rocking you atop him with a guiding, harsh rhythm as you called his name. Your whole being was alight with passion, your eyes now opening and looking down at the man beneath you.

Killer didn't realize it until he felt his eyes roll back in his skull, his body immediately ushered into a third orgasm as your body milked him with the rhythmic thumps of your warm orgasm. But he still remained firm, hard and needy. He inhaled a deep, shaky breath: particles of pollen immediately spiraling in a cylindrical vacuum deep into his lungs.

“I c-can’t,” Killer called for you, immediately grappling you in his arms. He threw you beneath him, his vice-grip clawing at your hips as he pummeled down into your body, “I can't stop, I can't stop, I can't stop.”

You bit back a whimper, your body barely recovering from the prior spend of your hot release. Overstimulated, ill-prepared and encumbered with your new task at hand: Massacre Soldier Killer never let up. Not even for a moment.

In fact, he only got more intense, ferocious and brutal the moment your body began to milk his cock.

“P-Please know I'm sorry,” he choked out a strangled whimper. His fingers ached with the intensity he was gripping onto you with, leaving punctures of purple intents over your hip bones due to the butality he was burrowing into you.

“O-Oh fuck,” you sucked in your bottom lip, biting down hard as the corners of your eyes began pricking with tears, “It's okay, it's okay. I know. I can t-take it.”

You spoke through those words of confirmation, truly attempting to convince yourself of the ability to endure this rough treatment for as long as Killer needed to use your body for. Rough slaps of his hips smacked against your body, his veiny cock scraping itself through your body as his knob hit angles you didn't realize you could experience. It would equate to bliss if his grip wasn't so intense.

Excruciating agony and white-hot ecstacy were in a perfect marriage within your body beneath the hulking form of Massacre Soldier Killer. The harmonious entanglement driven further by the grunts, growls, roars from the man above you, only for them to turn into begging whimpers and pleas for you to endure just a moment longer.

“I kn-know this isn't-... f-fucking nnghm-... this isn't g-good for you,” his breathy whisper cut through his growls like a pick through ice, “I can't stop. I can't fucking stop.”

“It's okay, Kil. I p-promise it's okay,” you grit your teeth as his grip intensified on your hips, "You're good. You're b-being so good." His rhythm was unforgiving, the pace and rate his body rut into you was tormenting, brutal and punishing.

This was not the first-mate you knew. The beast in his stead was as violent as Killer was in battle, ripping bones and slashing through flesh. This was not at all what you anticipated from aiding Killer through this feat of lust.

His desperation was abhorrent, something he was repulsed by. He never dreamed of joining his body with yours in this strenuous and savage manner. He wanted to be kind, always kind, only ever kind, should you grant him the access to you he so desperately longed for from afar.

Softly spoken, dutiful and almost loving. That's who you knew him to be, and that's who he wanted to be for you. Your friend, your comrade in arms, your senior serving crewmate who you trusted to have your back.

How would you ever trust him again after this? How could he ever trust himself? That push and pull of chasing his relief with you caged beneath him coincided with the tug of his heart and the fog of his mind. He wants you to trust him after this. He wants you to look him in the eye and tell him you still want him. He needed that from you; the confirmation this was not only simply for now, but something he could have once again.

“I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he sobbed into your neck, the cool surface of his mask grounded you. Huffs of his breath poked through the holes in his mask, his icy-blue eyes were scrunched tightly shut while his body remained alight like a beacon in darkness.

He had already reached his climax three times, shooting burst after burst of his sticky cum deep within you. Although relief was found immediately afterwards, his cock continued to remain stiff as the steel of a blade in a snow storm.

He just couldn't stop. Why couldn't he stop?

“Kil, I-I think you n-need-... ahh,” you mewled as he moved his hands up to your waist, his broad fingers splayed out to perch like a bird of prey against your skin. He rammed his full length in and out, your stomach beginning to ache with the bulge protruding deep within your abdomen.

“N-Need you,” he groaned in your ear, his hips stapling you against the floor with each cruel slap, “Need to keep going. Almost th-there again.”

“I know, Kil. I know,” you soothed his hair in your hands, trails of wet tears streaked your cheeks with how much sensations your body was taking, “Take what you need, I'm here.”

“I’m gonna-... I'm gonna- f-fuck. I'm gonna cum again,” he groaned deep within his mask, his voice picking up at the end in a small shuddery whimper, “Oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm cumming.”

Your head rolled back, eyes wide as you felt him empty himself within you for a fourth time. The sticky splashback of his hot cum trickled out of your needy hole, his cock buried up to the hilt with his spend leaking over his pubic hair and thighs. He huffed against your shoulder, his mask almost becoming loose over his face as he recovered.

“Good boy,” you cooed at him, pressing a soft kiss onto his bare shoulder as he shuddered and shook through his fourth spurt of ecstacy, “Good boy, Kil. Get it all out.” His cock twitched at your title bestowment, the hardness of his steely cock refusing to deflate no matter the amount of release he pumped into you.

“I-It’s not going down,” he whimpered into you, his hips beginning to roll against yours once more, “It's not going down. I don't know what to do,” his sobs began to shake at his shoulders.

“It's okay,” you winced out, feeling the heat of release exiting from your overspent body with ooze of fluid, “I-I think you need to take your mask off.”

“Wh-What?” he gasped at you, his hands continuing to hold you firmly against the mattress of his bed, “The mask off?”

“Some-... fuck, Kil-... something hit you in the face, ri-right?” your voice was several notes higher than your usual cadence, crying beneath him as he pummeled into you, “Might be still in your mask. Take it off. I'll close my eyes, I'll not tell a soul,” you winced, clamping your eyes tightly shut, “I'll be good. I'll tell no-one.”

Killer immediately halted his thrusting, his body in momentary stasis as your words reached him. His body screamed at him to keep going, to keep pummeling into you, to keep chasing his high that was just within reach. But he stopped, his cock sheathed deep within you.

“Look at me,” he purred down at you, his hands still firm on your waist. His grip grasped you tighter, misbehaving beneath Killer's pleading to hold you more gently.

Unclenching your scrunched eyes, you gazed up at him as his hands left your body and unclasped the mask from shrouding his face. Icy blue eyes, as pale as the sky and as deep as the ocean pierced you as his gaze met with yours. Your breath was stolen from within your lungs, choking back on your surprise at his appearance.

Massacre Soldier Killer was beautiful.

“Look up at m-me,” he stammered, his hips rolling against yours as his cock burrowed deep within your body, “Look at me. I n-need you to see me. I need you to see how desperately I need you.”

His eyelashes fluttered, his eyelids growing heavy as his rhythmic thrusts began to pick up their intensity. Your eyes never left his for a moment: not to look at his lips, not his beard, nor his angular cheekbones, nor his nose. His eyes were what captivated you most, holding you hostage as their glassy hue glazed over to chase his high within you.

“Y-You were right,” he huffed between thrusts, “My lungs aren't burning, and I-I think this is it. Th-This one is it.” His pace was excruciating, but the satisfaction you were beginning to feel build itself within you screamed at you to let him continue using you.

“You can do it, Kil,” you rolled your hips to match his pace, staring up through half-hooded lashes into his eyes, “Use me. Take me, I'm yours.”

“You're mine,” he moaned his growling voice down at you, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against your neck, “Perfect for me. Made for me.” His cock twitched deep within you, your body reacting to his needy chase and toppling over with his final release.

“F-Fuck, Kil!” you cried, your body beginning to throb, your thumps of bliss coaxing Killers balls to empty deep within, “I-I’m-... I’m cumming. Killer, I'm cumming!”

“Cum with me, cum with m-me,” he begged, his pace picking up as his cock finally began weeping it's spend for the fifth time deep within you, “With me. F-Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Pants of breath, fluttering of elevated heartbeats and joint cries of bliss ricocheted off the wooden walls of the crew-quarters of the Victoria Punk. Killer's mask lay discarded beside the door, lulling in the subtle rock of the waves over the floorboards as you both fell away from your mutual highs.

Killer moved his head away from your shoulder, gazing down to where your bodies remained joined together in awe. His lips were agape, his eyelashes fluttering as he pulled himself away from you. Watching the floodgates open from your abused entrance, your mutual juices coating both of your stomachs, thighs and soaking the mattress beneath you.

Killer looked to your hips, his lips parting and eyes becoming teary as he noticed the damage showcased on your body.

Marks littered your skin, deep hues of purple branded your flesh, depicting Killer's unrestrained lust and need for you. His bliss was eclipsed by deep sorrow as his fingers gently caressed the elevated indents in your skin. Sensing his unease, you immediately flung your hands up and collected his cheeks in your palms.

“I can handle it,” your eyes searched his, looking between his deep, blue orbs with your eyes only depicting support and affection, “I wouldn't have let you do it if I couldn't handle it.”

Killer turned his head, his lips meeting your palm with his whiskered chin tickling your flesh. This small moment of affection felt more sacred, more secret, and more intimate than the emassment of bodily fluids you shared moments prior.

“I shouldn't have been so rough with you,” he scolded himself, “I will never be rough with you again.” His fingertips caressed your hips, soothing over your aching flesh and wordlessly apologizing with deep, intentional touches.

“Are you feeling okay, Kil?” you asked him, lazily cocking your head to the side, “Don't need to go again?”

“Fuck, no,” he huffed through a small, squeak of laughter, “Not right now, at least.”

Smiling up at him, you propped yourself up on your elbows and gazed deeply into his eyes. You couldn't get enough of the luxury it was to gawk at the handsome man who just spent himself within you five times in consecutive succession.

He truly was beautiful.

“Does that mean you want to do this again?” you asked him while attempting to not show how eager you were. You began taking your time to examine his muscular physique before snapping your eyes back up to his blue orbs. A red hue tinted his cheeks, his eyes darting around the room before rejoining your own.

“I would like to, yes,” Killer admitted at last, sucking in a breath as he anticipated your refusal. Your smile spread up your face, prompting you to immediately spring yourself up to meet his body with your own.

“Crew’s still out for a while,” you shrugged, looking around the crew-quarters you had both tainted with the stains of your aroused fluids, “We should clean this up,” you drew your eyes up to meet his, coy and bashful, “And maybe we could have a bath together-?”

“-Please,” he spoke over you, far too quickly for his liking but too lost to hold back the floodgates of emotional excitement, “Let me bathe with you. I'll wash your hair, massage your body. I'll make sure you're so, so spoiled after all this, if you'll let me?”

A small squeal of joy found its way to your lips, buzzing at the notion that he not only wants to be with you again physically, but he desired to treat you to the luxury of continuing to gawk at his uncovered face further by bathing with you.

“Will you let me?” Killer asked, his voice still holding that eager anticipation that caused you to both melt and soar in unison. You eagerly nodded, prompting Killer to hook his arms beneath you and elevate you into his chest.

Your fingers quickly drew themselves up to his lengthy blonde hair, detangling the sweat-damp strands and toying with the soft curls framing his face. You hummed in contentment as his smile freed itself on his face, glancing at you as you continued enjoying his luscious, thick locks.

“Let's go then,” he cooed down at you, his lips finding your forehead as he cradled you against him, “Let me spoil you for being so good to me. I need to treat you right.”

“Don't forget your mask!” you quickly uttered, causing him to pause and search your face for clarification. You smiled at him, gently reaching your lips up to press against his cheek, “Gotta clean the damn thing, unless you want to experience all that again?”

“Good point,” he huffed, using his feet to kick along his mask to the bathroom as he chaperoned you within his arms, “I prefer my own desire to come from me,” he confessed as soon as he reached the door, “And I want to show you how much I truly do desire you.”

“I can't wait,” you smiled in return, wincing as your body’s adrenaline seeped out of your body and the pain caught up to you.

“I promise I'll be gentle with you,” he confessed, his eyes innocent and brows triangulating in a peak in the center of his forehead, “I won't be rough.”

“I can take a bit of rough treatment,” you challenged him in return, smiling into his bare chest as he began to run the bath.

“I know you can,” he smiled down at you, pressing a small kiss against your temple, “But you don't have to, unless you really want to.”

#one piece #x reader #op killer #massacre soldier killer #killer x reader #op killer x reader #massacre Soldier Killer x reader #op killer smut #killer x reader smut #pollen fic #one piece pollen #op pollen fic

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zhxngii · 8 months

Text

Alhaitham & Blade having a crush on you

❏ ( notes ) ; This is my gift for @yanqingisim for the Secret Santa event by @solarisfortuneia, I hope you enjoy it <3 ❏ ( contents ) ; PURE FLUFF! might be a bit of angst idk (surprise surprise.) , i tried to write these two tropes and I hope I did them well... sdjkhklasdme.

As Alhaitham's study buddy/research partner, he has a small (big) crush on you but doesn't know how you feel about him so he resorts to hiding his feelings.

How did he fall for you?

All it took was you truly being yourself around him. Usually, when he finishes a project with someone, he'd often hear them complain about how awkward it might've been or something along the lines of how frustrating his personality was... not that he cared though because in the end the project's done and he won't likely see them much.

You on the other hand... were a different case. He took note of how you tried to understand his side of things, not only yours, and how you tried your best to work with him despite how difficult or tiring it might've been. One thing he noticed was how determined you were with your research, and he found that attractive about you.

There used to be a point where he preferred to be alone but... you slowly became an exception as you two partnered up more.

What he does differently that gets your attention.

Alhaitham would eventually become aware of his feelings towards you, but isn't sure how you feel about him, so he'll keep it hidden away and to himself. Though, there will be a time he can't possibly just hide it anymore so what does he do?

He'll often start doing small things such as bringing his and your favorite snacks when you both take a break from all the work you've done so far. You wonder how he knew exactly what you liked and wanted at the moment at he just simply brushes it off by saying he just guessed... when really he took mental note of what you'd bring with you whenever you were with him.

Whenever you happened to catch him during his break, he puts his book down. Doesn't seem like such a big deal but... with anyone else, he wouldn't do as much as to spare a glance at them. He'd keep his eyes glued to the page he was on, not showing any bit of interest in the conversation that started with him since he wanted to be left alone already. But with you? The book can wait. You could've sworn that his eyes almost sparkle in a way whenever he looks up to see you.

Something cute he does.

Whenever you'd tell him a joke, he'll blush when you giggle at him. You find it adorable how when he doesn't get a joke, he'll often take it seriously and give such a long, textbook-based explanation. Once you explain to him, a look of embarrassment comes to his face but he'll laugh along with you at his own seriousness.

Blade's partner but the problem is that you two don't necessarily get along, he ends up developing a small crush on you, or rather a partnership as he would say in the long run.

How does he fall for you?

Blade wasn't very fond of you, the second he saw you he just didn't want you getting in his way of work. It didn't help how you two were often paired up with each other, on every mission no matter big or small, you two somehow were always stuck together.

He was always quite hard on you as your superior and he knew just how much you disliked him for how he treats you but the second you get injured... he gets worried sick. He knew you were strong on your own but knowing your clumsiness, he had to keep a close eye on you.

He's never once felt such the need to protect someone before, he thought it was just the way of a superior looking after the junior but... boy was he wrong. Soon it became more than just that kind of relationship between you two.

What he does differently that gets your attention.

He tends your injuries himself. Usually, he'd let someone else handle it, but he'd just do it himself as he wanted you to rest and be in bed as soon as possible. You didn't know how good he was at this kind of thing until that day.

He often holds your hand, leading your around with his hands tight around yours and the hilt of his sword. His excuse is that he wants to make sure you stay close to him and don't get lost, but in reality, he just wants to feel your hand in his. He'll give it a nice, firm squeeze from time to time, sometimes holding it longer than he intended.

He gives you small gifts of treats and items so you can take care of yourself when you both complete your tasks. Though he's the one that's literally helping you, he doesn't mind giving you a reward of such from time to time especially when the mission happened to take a toll on the both of you.

Something cute he does.

He becomes softer with you when it comes to winding down and relaxing, he'll take part in the little activities you enjoy even though it may seem totally out of his character but he's willing to enjoy it with you.

He'll even do such things as give you a nice hug, though the hug was mostly so he could enjoy your embrace around him as he relaxes into your arms. He loves the times like this when he can just be comfortable with you and not have to worry about being such a tough guy.

#— summer santa.#⁁﹒💫｀´﹒zhxngii.wrks﹒ꜝ #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #blade x reader #blade fluff #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham fanfic #blade fanfic

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runningfrom2am · 4 months

Text

cold nights // part nine

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: this is the teaaaa guys,, also should i post the playlist tn?? i feel like its almost ready 0.0

series masterlist // playlist

"You should go home. You can't save her by just hoping she comes out of her little tunnels again..." Coryo turns his head at the Dean's voice on his left. "She could be dead in there. You wouldn't know."

Your friend sighs, rolling his eyes and redirecting them to the screen ahead. Just in case.

"What are you reading?" He points to the open book on Coryo's desk in front of him as the boy quickly closes it, pulling it down onto his lap.

"Just a book." He mumbles.

The Dean gets closer, leaning over to read the cover as Coryo flips it over. "Just a book?" He probes it more, raising an eyebrow at him. "The very same one your poet was reading in all the live feeds of the zoo over the last few days. That's sweet."

"It's interesting. That's all. She asked for it, I wanted to know why." Coryo brushes it off, holding the paper tighter in his grip.

"What do you want from that girl?" He asks, leaning against the empty desk next to him.

"Nothing." Coryo insists. "I want her to live."

Dean Highbottom hums, giving a slight nod. "And the Plinth Prize would be a happy coincidence, I suppose."

Coriolanus smiles bitterly, thinking over what his best response would be. "I believe I'd be entitled to it."

"Of course you do." The Dean nods, flashing him a fake smile of encouragement. "Of course you do. The prize, the girl. Hm. How convenient you don't have to choose between them."

Coryo tucks the book under his leg at the statement, choosing not to grace his superior with any kind of response.

"Who do you think makes that final decision for the prize you so covet, Mister Snow? Wake up. Even if she somehow wins it all, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you don't see a dime." Dean Highbottom spits, looking up at the screen as well as Coryo slowly looks over at him. "So, ask yourself, how much do you care if she wins now?"

Coryo listens to the man's footsteps as he walks away, pretending to focus on the screen again. If he truly had no shot at the prize, would it be best for him to go home now and sleep like many of his classmates already had? Should he even bother to watch the cameras hoping that you'll reappear in the dark arena at some point tonight? Should he even come back? Of course he would. He couldn't live with the idea of you coming out, in desperate need of something only he could give you, food or water, and knowing that at some point you would realize he had lied to you. That he wasn't with you anymore. He would have to watch your heartbreak in holiday reruns for the rest of his life. Even if you died in that arena all alone, would you realize that he didn't care about you at the end? He couldn't take the idea of it.

As he returns to the book that he's pulled back onto his lap, he hopes you still remember.

It's another slow hour before you show your face again, slowly, carefully opening the vent across the arena as the motion cameras pick up on it, allowing Coryo to watch the closest one to you. It's a moment before he looks up, entranced in your book when he sees the movement in his peripheral vision. He was the only one there, now, and he knew it likely wasn't you that the cameras picked up so it took him a moment to even tear his eyes away from the desk, slotting the dried-up flower between the pages. When he does see it's you, he sits up quickly. Watching, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn't come, there was no one else. It's just you.

Your eyes scan the arena in search of the nearest camera after seeing that there are no other tributes out in the clearing besides Lamina, where you left her on the beam. You crawl out, leaving the vent open behind you for a quick retreat. You find the camera, looking into it. You were covered in dirt head to toe, but even through that Coryo could see it when you tried to communicate with your gaze. With him.

You give a small wave to the camera, eyes flitting up with the sound of birds in the crumbled rafters above you.

He wasn't sure what you wanted, but he was grateful you listened. Tapping through his communicuff, he quickly finds water and hits send. Hopefully, it makes it to you instead of breaking like Lamina's did.

You stand up in front of the vent, stretching out your limbs from being curled up and crawling around in the vent system for so long. You wanted to explore as much of it as you could, but it was hot in there, and you desperately needed water so you could clear out the dust in your throat.

A smile falls onto your face briefly as you see the drone come in, carrying your water bottle. Coryo. He is watching. You hold your hand out, prepared to try and catch it before it crashes loudly into the stands just behind you. From watching what happened with Lamina's, you know you have to be careful. The blades aren't well covered, and they come flying in fast. Straight toward you. When it gets too close you bail, ducking down as the fast-moving drone flies straight past you and into the vent. You cringe at the loud banging that follows, echoing throughout the arena due to your beloved vent system. You stay hidden for a moment, making sure no one is coming after you before standing up and looking around. Satisfied that no one was coming besides Lamina who just stirred on her beam, you held your finger up toward the camera, signaling for Coryo to wait as you crawled back in.

He chews on the inside of his cheek as he waits, relieved when you emerge a minute or so later with an unbroken bottle in your hand as you kneel on the ground in front of the opening. You hold it up, shooting the camera a small smile before opening it and taking a sip. Or, you intended to, but you were so thirsty you downed almost the whole thing in one go.

You wipe your chin, take a deep breath, and close your eyes. It felt so good. Coryo is watching you intently. You don't look cold, which is good. Maybe even a little sweaty, if the hair that's clinging to your forehead is proof of that. You're probably hungry. And with that, he's sending you an apple. If you weren't hungry, it wasn't a lot to eat, but if you were, he would be able to tell by how you ate it.

You hear the distant whir of another drone, quickly standing up and stepping away from the vent. You want to avoid that loud echoing as much as you can. You brace yourself and duck beneath the seat in front of you, hiding behind the railing so it wouldn't hit you.

It crashes into the front of the stands, and you can hear it falling down onto the floor. You stand up slowly, looking over the edge. You were so hungry, now that you saw the apple there, that you hopped down over the side and walked along the edge of the railing before sliding down where it was safest. You watch your steps as you make your way over to the broken drone and the battered apple that was attached to it.

You scan the ground, looking for that delicious flash of red which you pick out quickly. You pick it up and wipe it off on your dress, taking a bite before you're even fully stood up again. You could moan just at the taste of it. You had missed fruit so much- occasionally Coryo and Sejanus had brought you some in the zoo, but now it was something else entirely. Every bite could be your last, and you try to enjoy it as best you can.

You track the arena again from the floor, looking around again for the nearest camera. You turn when you see it's pretty much directly above your head. You wave again, giving Coryo a grateful smile, weakened by the stress of the day's events, and by your inevitable death. Nevertheless, you tried to keep on a brave face; you didn't want him to view you as careless or ungrateful. "Thank you." You say, unsure if there is even a microphone.

You tilt your head at the camera, confusing him as you squint. "Can you hear me?" You ask and he nods, alone in the large room.

"I can hear you." He whispers back to the open air, watching as you swiftly turn around, facing away from the camera.

"If you can hear me, send..." You think about it. What is something they would definitely have available but obscure enough that you would know he heard you? "Send in something odd. Something you're surprised is even an option."

He flicks through the pages and pages of options, unsure what to pick. Bread was too basic, no apples, water, no. Milk? That's weird, and gross. It's perfect. He hits send and watches as you eat your apple, looking up at the opening at the top waiting for something else to come.

You smile as you see it coming in, looking back at the camera briefly before bracing yourself to dodge the flying gift. You wait until the last second, jumping out of the way as it smashes into the wall behind you, the bottle shattering and spraying the surface in milk. Coryo cringes just at the sight of it as you turn and look.

You scrunch up your nose and get closer, running your finger through the dripping liquid to try and identify it. "Milk?" You ask, looking up at the camera.

He smiles to match yours as it grows on your face and you start to laugh quietly. "That is odd, indeed." You giggle, shaking your head. "Well, thank you, dear Coryo. At least I shall have someone to talk to." You take another bite out of the apple in your hand.

"I hope you had a good day." You hum, covering your mouth as you chew. "But you should be getting home soon. I think it is late."

It's so you to be so caring, even finding yourself within the games you're still worried about him. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He continues to click through the communicuff in the silence that follows, just to get a better idea of all your options, when he finds something better.

Finally, the keyboard makes sense. He quickly types the note out to you and hits send. It's pricey to send a note, putting a dent in your donations, but you had so many it wasn't really a concern at this point. After all, he was your mentor. It only made sense that he would kind of be able to communicate with you.

You perk your head up at the sound of another drone, ready to play this game again. You dodge it more smoothly this time, with a spin that puts a smile on your mentor's face before picking up the small container clipped on the bottom of the drone and prying it open.

You smile when you see it's just a piece of paper. "I'm not leaving. -C" You read, looking up at the camera.

"Well then," You grin. "Let's talk! It is not day."

He remembers that one. You've said that one to him before- you said it was Romeo and Juliet. He's actually sure he just read it. If the book belonged to him, he would be highlighting and annotating every line you have recited to him over the last couple weeks just like he does in his textbooks.

"That's Romeo and Juliet, if you remember." You remind him, assuming that he wouldn't know it yet. Even if he had started reading it, which he shouldn't have considering you know he's been busy, it was unlikely he'd get that far in under a day. You didn't know that he was inhaling every word on the page in the moments you were off-screen, devouring every blank verse as if it were sacred. To you, and now to him, it almost was.

You look around as you chew on your apple, stopping when you look at Marcus again. You sigh, sadly, seeing the birds now crowding his body as you quickly begin to make your way over. Lamina sits up as you approach, looking over the edge of the beam. "Just me." You whisper, reassuring her before you shoo the birds away as she lays back down.

You crouch down next to the boy, gently rolling him onto his back. You hadn't the chance earlier, too rushed by the daylight to get back into hiding, but now was as good a time as any. You gently cross his arms over his chest and close his eyes.

You sit back, carefully adjusting his clothes before getting up, as satisfied as you could be with the makeshift burial.

You take a few steps back, retreating quietly to the edge of the arena to get back to your vent. You climb up into the stands just as you hear another drone coming, quickly climbing the stairs so it doesn't fall back down into the ring. You grab it when it's settled, smiling to yourself when you see it's another note.

"No cameras in the vents. Only come out if you need anything. -C"

"Thank you, Coryo." You whisper, looking up at the camera and nodding before retreating inside, closing the fan quietly behind you.

You curl up just past the entrance to the vent, hoping to get some sleep near the fresh air. The exhaustion kicks in quickly after you eat the entire core of the apple, knocking you out in the darkness of the tunnel.

When you wake, it's still dark. You sit up quickly, realizing where you are. Rubbing your eyes, you look out of the vent to see the source of the sound that woke you. You quickly spot a figure kneeling over Marcus's body, blinking to try and see who it is through the sleep still in your eyes.

You should stay hidden, you know that, but from behind at least, it doesn't look like another tribute.

"Sejanus?" You whisper, the vast space carrying your voice to his ears and he quickly turns. You were lucky it was him, but you were able to make a quick escape if it turned out to be someone else. "Sejanus, it's just me." You continue, and as you ease yourself down the debris piled up against the wall he just turns back to Marcus.

You take careful, nearly silent steps as you walk up behind him. "Sejanus?" You say again, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He shakes his head slightly, looking up at you. Tears filled his eyes and stained his cheeks, and you very quickly felt the tears building up in your own eyes as well. "Oh..." You quickly kneel down next to him, pulling him into a hug which he gratefully accepts. "Oh, Sejanus I'm so sorry... I wanted to save him, I did..." You choke on every word as you apologize.

"It's not fair." He sniffs, shaking his head gently under your grip as you soothingly rub the back of his head.

"I know... He didn't deserve that." You agree, ignoring the tears dripping down to your jaw and tickling your skin. "But I want you to know I told him how loved he is, and how sorry we all are. He knew. In his final moments, he knew..."

He tenses under your hold. "It... it was you?" He mutters, pulling away.

"No! No, I-" You quickly defend yourself, head shaking as your arms drop from around him and he looks over at you, understated anger beginning to shine through. "Sejanus, I didn't..."

Any trust he had in you was seemingly gone at that moment. You were worried you flipped a switch you couldn't unturn, that any relationship you had built with the boy had died and been replaced with the thought that maybe you were no better than the game makers themselves. Marcus was defenseless, and it felt like Sejanus thought you took advantage of that.

Your thought process proved to be correct. "He was defenseless! Innocent!" You could tell he would shout if you weren't both so worried about staying quiet. His anger quickly reverted back to hurt. "How could you?"

"I promise, it's not what it sounds like-" You try to correct him, to get him to forgive you as your chest constricts around your lungs. One of the two friends you made in your final days; gone. Just like that.

"Hey!" Another voice startles the both of you, already just a few feet away. You didn't realize how vulnerable you were while you were fighting to prove yourself. You scramble to get up, standing just in front of Sejanus as he knelt on the ground, making no attempts to move. "Y/N. Get out of here." Coryo instructs you, still in his academy uniform.

"Coryo, I-"

"Go hide. Now. It's not safe for you out here." He insists, eyes cold and serious.

"No, not until-"

"I said go. I can't be talking to you, we'll both be punished. Go."

God, he wanted to talk to you. He wanted to do more than talk to you. He wanted to hug you for the first time unimpeded, to grab your hand and pull you outside to where you would be safe, but he knew that neither was an option. You're safer in the vent than you would be in the hands of Dr. Gaul after he was seen talking to you, that's for sure.

He has to bite his tongue to keep from asking you to stay while you scurry off to do as he said and climb back into the vent, his mother's scarf still tied securely around your waist. He hated that this could possibly be the last time you saw him, but he had no choice.

"Sejanus, let's go." He whispers to his friend, once he is satisfied that you are really going.

"She killed him..." He mumbles in response.

"She didn't kill him." Coryo quickly corrects him.

"She said-"

"He begged for their help, and she held his hand while she," He points up the beam where a now sleeping Lamina lay quietly, "did it. Now let's get out of here."

He urges him on and Sejanus looks up at him. "He asked them to." Coryo hisses to iterate his point. "Y/N couldn't do it even then."

Sejanus looks up to the vent just as the door creaks closed behind you. "I just wanted to help..." He says softly, eyes watering.

"If you want to help, the best thing you can do is come with me."

"No, I had to be where the cameras are, I need to show them-"

"Do you think anyone is watching this?" Coryo asks as his friend finally stands up. He was making progress, but slowly. This needed to move faster. "Gaul cut the feed. Come with me now, or-"

"But you said-"

"You can't help them if you die in here and become another body in Gaul's war." Coryo cuts him off. There was very little time for arguments, and that timer was rapidly ticking down. "Go home, spend your father's money, do some real good. And don't blame her. She's just as innocent as Marcus was and you know that. Who do you think shut his eyes? Posed him like that? She sobbed for an entire hour after holding his hand while he died!"

Sejanus is speechless, staring down at his tribute's body.

"I watched it all! She's alone in here. She has no one!" He whispers in his ear. "We are all she has. Me and you on the outside, and if you want to help that girl and all the tributes after her, we have to go right now or neither of us will see the light of day again and she will starve and die truly alone. Please, Sejanus. You're her friend... My friend. Come with me."

Sejanus looks at him, the two boys just inches apart as he nods with a resigning sigh. "Okay." He whispers.

Coryo sighs in relief. "Thank you, come-" He starts to turn back when they both are scared by the sound of footsteps sprinting toward them. "Come on!" He shouts, grabbing his classmate's sleeve and dragging him behind as they make for the red lighting of the exit.

You watch from the slits in the fan, hands perched on the blade as you lean against it to get a better view. Your heart is racing as you watch Coryo and Sejanus book it for the exit. God, you hope they make it.

They almost do.

Until Sejanus trips over the turnstile you know and hate, crying out in pain upon hitting the ground. Immediately, you're pushing the door open loudly and running along the railing, hoping to get closer to the exit without running the risk of cutting through the middle of the arena. "Coryo! Run!" You yell helplessly, careless of whether or not you'll be heard or seen by others. All you wanted was to create a distraction. To save him.

But he doesn't run, even as you see him stumble back in the red lighting of the tunnel, hissing when Bobbin's blade strikes him somewhere. "Coryo!" You cry out again, more out of fear. Was it serious? Was he already in the process of bleeding out?

You quickly hop the railing abandoning your safety, sliding down the concrete and stumbling upon hitting the ground. "I don't want to hurt you!" You hear his voice again as you run into full view of the tunnel, still about twenty feet away.

Just in time to see Bobbin fall back between the metal gate, landing a good ways away.

"Enjoy the show!"

You flinch when your friend steps out after him, chest rising and falling heavily as he stares down at the boy's body. Silent, unmoving, dead.

Then he brings the club down on him again.

#tbosas #tbosas fic #tbosas fanfiction #tbosas x reader #hunger games #thg series #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #thg movies #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #coryo snow #coryo x reader #snow lands on top

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lakesbian · 4 months

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i was pondering some Thoughts about how people sometimes refer to worm as a "found family" story (& how this is sometimes mocked), how in-text alec explicitly says that the undersiders are the closest thing rachel has to family, how taylor tells them "you're my family, in a way," how the found family trope works in general, etc.

access to financial support, housing, medical care, And So On, is primarily attached to the institution of the family. the material necessities provided by membership to a nuclear family are why it's so common for people to reconcile with or keep in touch with family members they wouldn't if there was no material value attached to that relationship. the cultural prioritization of the nuclear family is how we get people offering "well, they're family" as an explanation for remaining associated with someone they wouldn't otherwise care about (or would even actively be trying to escape from, but this post is more about just Social Incompatibility in families than the outright abuse that the structure enables), with the expectation that the explanation is considered to make inherent sense.

aside from the found family trope demonstrating a lack of imagination about non-familial ways important relationships can take shape/demonstrating an inability to see relationships as truly important or deep unless they mimic the nuclear family, i think a lot of what appeals about the found family trope is a character dynamic that provides the same support, security, and undying love/depth of connection that the idealized nuclear family is purported to--and that does so as an escape from and superior replacement to the original blood family.

and what's interesting about the undersiders is that they're extremely not that. they're terrible at communicating. many of them don't get on with each other very well. they're oftentimes even actively shitty to each other: everyone but taylor towards rachel, brian towards alec (and aisha, but she's actually related to him), taylor towards alec and aisha. but there's still repeated in-text acknowledgement of a supposed familial dynamic between them! i think they're a "found family" in the sense that their group imitates the general role of the nuclear family--a small unit of people who (are supposed to) function as each other's fundamental supports in a world that, at large, does not care about any individual member, and who (are supposed to) do so regardless of any internal conflicts or lack of compatibility.

like, this is not a particularly articulate analysis of the nuclear family Whatsoever, but i don't think it's inaccurate to say that the compelling thing about the undersiders is that they are a "found family," but specifically in the sense that a lot of their dysfunctions are reminiscent of those found in typical, real-life familial bonds--people who wouldn't necessarily be getting along otherwise, or are even actively sorta bad for each other, forming very deep & intimate connections simply because they're materially forced to spend a lot of time together and have each others backs when there's no guarantee anyone else will.

for example: alec and aisha call taylor + brian 'team mom and dad' in a mocking manner not to indicate that they're kind/caring, but to indicate that they're being condescending micro-managing assholes...who aisha and alec are going to unquestionably listen to anyway, because they're a team, right? and you have to listen to your team leaders. i am onto an Observation here i think. deeply compelled by the idea of a ""found family"" where all of the similarities to an actual nuclear family are, despite being what drives the intimacy, also blatantly fucking dysfunctional

#worm spoilers #parahumans #wormblr #ive connected the dots. you havent connected shit

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merrivia · 5 months

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Day 2- Akielos

The words 'barbaric' or 'barbarian' are used by Pacat 26 times in reference to Damen or to Akielos across the Captive Prince trilogy. The Veretians make it clear that they believe that their (Western European coded) culture is superior to the half-clothed brutish 'savagery' of their Akielon neighbours. I think it's also one that can be subconsciously absorbed by readers too, and it's worth unpicking.

We first meet Damen displaced from home, in the heart of Vere, brutalised, stripped of titles, of power and of dignity, stranded in a shifting, twisting world; all decorative beauty and dark, dark underbelly. And he is given all the tropes of a Eurocentric view of barbarity- he is physically big and strong, an excellent fighter, an infamous killer. He is of a darker skintone and he lacks the elaborate courtly ways of Veretian people (who are bored, malicious sophisticates at best, and sadists, rapists and paedophiles, at worst). Damen has to literally fight for his life, to adapt his thinking to understand the Veretian court, doing his utmost to survive. He is Akielos, symbolically, in the first novel, but he’s alone, in dire circumstances, a lone fragment of a greater whole we cannot piece together yet.

I think it takes us seeing Damen in Akielos for us to truly see Akielos.

One of Damen's happiest moments in Prince's Gambit is when Laurent starts speaking to him in Akielon. It is described like "having a weight lifted from his shoulders" one "he had not realised he was carrying". The alienation he felt, away from home, his people, his culture, is a burden he didn't know he was carrying.

And when he returns to his country, it is telling that for the first time, we gain indications of the depth and sophistication of Akielon culture. Like when Damen hopes they can stop at Heston's estate:

Architecture. Philosophy. Aesthetics which rest on harmony, simplicity and balance. Nothing at all like the sneering Veretian judgement of 'barbarism'.

Akielos, as it turns out (in the words of Laurent), is beautiful:

I think what I like most about this part of the trilogy is how Damen reflects Akielos and how perceptions of Akielos reflects back on to Damen. Because it’s he who appreciates philosophy and architecture (art, music and poetry too), who appreciates his culture. He is not the ‘dumb brute’ they accuse him of being, just as Akielos is not a nation of brutality.

The beauty and profundity of Akielos comes alive when we see it first-hand through Damen’s eyes and his love for his culture and country, but also his intelligence and complexity of character comes more into view. Damen is not just a warrior; Akielos is not just a militaristic nation. It is only when he returns, can breathe the air of home again, do we get to see both him and Akielos for who they truly are.

#damenlovefest2023 #damen of akielos #damianos of akielos #captive prince #mini meta

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kyoaeri · 25 days

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──★ ˙ ̟ 🐰 enha as angst tropes !

this is part 2 of my enha as love tropes post <33

tw ( ? ) mentions of hospitals / major injuries in jake’s , but nothing graphic ofc

heeseung : right person , wrong time

you loved heeseung , so much that you couldn’t think of life without him until you were forced to . his things were still strewn around your apartment the day after he said goodbye , when you woke up to an empty bed and a piece of paper with only a hastily scrawled i’m sorry , goodbye . the time you had together wasn’t enough , but you can’t ever let go of it , the memories lingering in your dreams , a constant reminder of the love you lost. you’ll see him again someday , happy with someone else , and you’ll mourn the love you could’ve had , had you met him at a different time.

jay : villain x hero

you knew getting involved with jay was a terrible decision , but you couldn’t stop yourself from coming back again and again , just to see him. his face , his hair , his touch haunted your thoughts , so much so that you found yourself in front of your superiors , harsh words being thrown at you . they stung , but not as much as the knowledge that you and jay could never be what you wanted to be , not while you were fighting on opposite sides . of course , you separated soon after , fleeting glances on the battlefield and his voice in your mind the only reminder of the love you once shared.

jake : memory loss

you were the first person to visit jake in the hospital after the accident , nervously pacing and heart beating a mile a minute . tears of relief pricked at the corners of your eyes when you were finally let in , only to find that he couldn’t remember you . you knew there was a reason ; the trauma he suffered to his head during the accident , but you didn’t care. in your mind , it would be deception to force him to love you again , so the best thing you could do would be to leave. so you do. you grow up and live your separate lives , but the love you still hold for him is strictly one-sided. you are the only one to carry the burden of your past love , one that will never spark back to life.

sunghoon : doomed relationship

you gripped your phone tightly in your hands , awaiting the text you knew would come. this was a rehearsed routine for you and sunghoon , having repeated it time and time again. break up , make up , you knew it was unhealthy but you just kept coming back. you truly loved sunghoon , and you hoped he felt the same way , but you two couldn’t help the way you fought , almost daily with tears in your eyes and anger in your voices. the love you felt for him almost outweighed the hurt in your heart and the suffering you endured every time you split up just to get together once more. almost. your phone lights up with a ding , and you swipe open to reveal the message you were expecting. i’m sorry , baby. i love you. you closed the app with a sigh , tears threatening to fall once more . you didn’t want to , but you would settle for this push and pull. you would do it for love.

sunoo : unrequited love

from the very moment your eyes met sunoo’s , you knew he was the one. it’s a shame he didn’t feel the same way. for so long , you pined after sunoo , wanting so tangibly it hurt , a debilitating , aching pain in your chest. you knew he wasn’t interested , yet you truly couldn’t stop loving him . it came as simply as breathing , it was the only thing you’d ever known. you were by his side as he entered and left countless relationships , knowing there was nothing else you wanted more than to be the subject of his affections , not his wingman. in another life , your feelings were reciprocated , but you would have to settle for unsteady friendship and countless heartbreaks in this one.

jungwon : time loop

the day jungwon broke up with you was a day you would never forget , because you couldn’t. for some heartbreaking reason , whether it was karmic debt or the universe’s personal dislike for you , you were forced to repeat what you would consider to be the worst day of your life forever . every day , you woke up to a message from jungwon , asking to talk . no matter how you tried to avoid it , he would find you and shatter your heart into millions of pieces , time and time again. you were no stranger to heartbreak , no stranger to shedding tears alone and the aching pain in your chest , but this was crueler than you could ever imagine . even just seeing his face , memories flood back into your mind of the perfect love you would never see again.

riki : miscommunication

you and riki loved each other so much , so it came as a shock to everyone around you when you separated . you really loved him, you did , but you couldn’t stop the feeling of inferiority you got whenever you were around him . he was so talented , set up for a successful future and a happy life . all you could do for him was bring him down , a sentiment you knew others around you shared , even if they didn’t say it . so , without even telling him the reason , you broke up with him . he’ll be thankful in the future , you thought. with me by his side , he’ll never be able to achieve his dreams. in the future , when you see him on tv , having achieved his dreams without you , you’ll never know the amount of tears he shed with your name on his lips , mourning the love you threw away.

#enha ౨ৎ #enha x reader #enha angst #enhypen #enha #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki

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luneengene2 · 4 months

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&Team Hyung Lines If They Were in a Movie?

A/N : What is meant here is their role, genre, story 'class', storyline, or trope in the movie (And all of this is based on my opinion as a writer)

Warnings : Fem!reader mention, grammar error

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|| Teenage Fiction, Teen Romance || Outstanding Students, Academic Rivals ||

: As we know, the leader of this &Team is an intelligent man and has high logic. If EJ plays the character of an outstanding student, then that role would be very suitable for him. I think, he will not be a geeky high achieving student, but an excellent student who is popular, handsome, and liked by girls, both seniors, juniors and his year mates. If the film takes a romantic direction, then a suitable partner for him (In my opinion) is a student who is equally accomplished like him. Or a lazy student who has bad academic grades, then EJ is chosen to be her tutor, and the two of them end up falling in love. Conflicts of jealousy or unhealthy competition can be added to this role. For example, EJ is jealous when his girl is close to a bad boy who has a bad reputation at their school, or vice versa. The issue of unhealthy competition is where EJ's academic rivals cheat so that EJ can 'drop in performance'. I really feel like this role is very relatable to EJ.

FUMA

|| Thriller, Action || A bodyguard who falls in love with his 'female' boss ||

: And yeah, the role of bodyguard is also really attached to Fuma. If he was offered a role as a bodyguard, then that would suit him. He will guard several important people such as the president or prime minister. Or if the film 'contains' mafia or crime elements, Fuma could be the main bodyguard of the Mafia Head. Action of shooting, running around in parkour style, dodging explosions, fighting really rolls into my head if Fuma takes the role of bodyguard. In the film, Fuma will play a good role in protecting his superiors. If he is assigned to look after a girl, whether the girl is his boss's daughter or his direct boss, he will be extra protective. If there is an element of romance, then his female boss or boss's daughter tends to express her feelings first to Fuma. However, in general, bodyguards 'don't' accept love from their superiors, because their job is only to look after them, not to fall in love.

Kei (K)

|| Romantic Fantasy, Action, Thriller || Alpha and his Luna (his Queen) ||

: As we know (2), Kei plays Khan in the Webtoon Comic 'Dark Moon : The Grey City', where his position is an Alpha. So this role is very inherent in him, his Alpha aura is truly invincible. He will become an Alpha who is truly respected by his followers, invincible, and has the highest magical powers. Alpha definitely needs his Luna, he still needs the Queen as the foundation for his life. I think Luna's character comes from a direct descendant of Vargr, which will make the chemistry even stronger with Kei's role as Alpha. Of course, wolves will never miss a fight with a vampire, maybe in the film, Kei will start acting and fight the vampires who 'kidnap' his Luna. His role will also be strong over love, as a werewolf will only love one person throughout his life. And if the person they love does not love them back, they will continue to love them one-sidedly until their death.

Nicholas

|| Crime, Romance, ANGST || "Mission, not love" ||

: Somehow I think this role is suitable for Nicholas. Where he plays a big-time fugitive who is most wanted by security officials. A detective or intelligence agent will be assigned to search for and arrest him with very thorough mission preparation. But in a crazy way, make him 'fell in love'. Nicholas will be deceived by the girl he 'of course' will love. The beautiful detective will trick Nicholas with her missions and tactics so that Nicholas can be truly fooled. In that role, Nicholas will be deceived by everything and actually sincerely loves the girl who is now tricking him. If the detective doesn't also fall in love with Nicholas, then the mission usually goes perfectly. However, if the detective also falls in love with Nicholas, the mission will be quite chaotic. The detective will feel guilty for fooling Nicholas, even though Nicholas' crime could have been very big. I can't imagine how the film would end.

#&team ej #&team fuma #&team k #&team nicholas #byun euijoo #murata fuma #koga yudai #wang yixiang #&team imagines #&team smut #&team

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sundaynightlive · 10 months

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A Comprehensive Guide on How Not to Tell Your Friends You're in Love [This Message was Approved by Sir Lancelot of Camelot] (Merthur)

[Read This for Better Context! But It's Not Required, or Anything]

4+1, silly knights, 3.4k, Arthur and Merlin being generally insufferable, unintentional secret realtionship trope, etc.

(TW: mention of battle, and Gwaine drinks piss? But it's comical, not like weird? I guess it's a tiny bit weird. You'll get it when you get to it.)

[1]

“Lance just let the man sleep,” Gwaine insists, “Perhaps the festival is still heavy on him.”

“You just want to get out of training,” Elyan accuses, which Lance is sure is entirely correct. Gwaine groans, dropping his arms at his sides defeatedly.

“Fine, whatever, go bother him and don’t come crying to me when he sticks his boot in your arse.”

A few of them chuckle, but Leon shoos Lancelot away, which is enough confirmation for him that going to check on Arthur is probably best. He rids himself of his sword and his armor, as he is technically off-duty and would not prefer to go clanking around the castle this early in the morning, and heads for Arthur’s bedchambers.

This is the first mistake.

When he finds himself at Arthur’s door, he presses his ear to the wood and hears nothing. So he knocks.

And knocks again.

And knocks a third time.

Still nothing. He thinks perhaps Arthur is not even there, but then again, the man has been known to sleep like an absolute boulder, so he should check, shouldn’t he?

This is his second mistake, and by far the worst.

It is upon opening Arthur’s door and peeking his head inside that he is greeted with the sight of two very naked men, one of which is thankfully obscured from him, and the other of which, well…

Lancelot retreats so quickly he actually find himself sprinting down the hall, lest the prince had woken up and seen him, or stuck his head out his door in confusion, or even smelled that someone had been there. He only stops when he’s so far away (and particularly lost) that he no longer knows what direction to go.

Lance had heard the rumors, had been present in the room when Arthur had warned Lord Edmond of he and Merlin’s… relationship, but he and the rest of the knights had chalked it up to a tactic to get Edmond to listen, not a truth. But there, just then, he saw them lying together. Truly lying together as if they did not regularly throw horse shit at each other’s faces and fight like back-alley boxers. Lancelot has watched Arthur dump soup over Merlin’s head, and Merlin give Arthur wedgies with a wave of his hand, and Arthur spit in Merlin’s wine, and Merlin toss said wine in Arthur’s lap—

Alright, perhaps this should not come at so much of a shock. They are generally inseparable, and fiercely loyal to one another, and never far from each other, even when Merlin is technically dismissed.

But god, paramour?

Does that technically make Merlin his superior?

Lancelot starts back the way he came, seeing that as the only way out of this ridiculous maze, and on the way, he bumps into Gwen.

“There you are!” she exclaims delightfully, offering him a wide and shining smile, “I’ve come to tell you there will be no training today. You weren’t with the other knights?”

Lancelot swallows and nods.

“I was, ah, looking for something.”

“Understood,” she says, and continues on her way. She gets past him quite aways before he turns around, unable to push down the curiosity building up inside him.

“Gwen?”

She stops, and turns.

“Yes?”

“Why? Was it canceled, I mean.”

She smiles.

“I believe you have Merlin to thank for that.”

[2]

It takes a lot, and by a lot, he means a lot, to shock Gwaine. It’s just not a task that’s easily done, and because of this, the knights have a bet going who can traumatize the poor guy most by the end of the week.

Now, Lancelot joined this bet heavily under the influence of alcohol, and regrets it, because he’s sure to lose. There’s nothing he could do that Percival could not beat, or Leon, for that matter. It embarrasses Lance just to speak of his own biological function, let alone trick Gwaine into drinking piss or kissing him full on the mouth—with tongue—as Elyan had done.

How Gwaine hadn’t flinched at the piss thing, instead lamenting—

Perce, you need to drink more water, is absolutely beyond Lance’s comprehension.

What a stupid bet. What a stupid bet. And worse, Gwaine is in on the whole thing (he had to be just for safety’s sake, if they were going to constantly affront him as they were doing) and he even knows Lance is screwed, teasing him constantly about not having made a single attempt, about “owning his loss.”

He was the laughing stock of the round table.

But he had one idea. And it was terrible, absolutely wretched, invasive, and probably treason.

But he is fed up with the teasing.

His first idea was to lock Gwaine in Arthur’s very wardrobe, which would ensure Gwaine would be present to something dastardly, but then he felt guilty at just the thought of invading his friends’ privacy in such a way.

So he settled for the stables.

Unbeknownst to anyone, except Lancelot, who had been extremely unlucky in happening upon Merlin and Arthur’s more intimate moments not once, but several times, the couple tended to retreat to the stables at random (but increasingly pattern-like) times of day to talk, or snog, or whatever—these times just happened to coincide with the free-time Lancelot had to brush and water and feed his horse.

He had considered moving his schedule around to avoid this, but the days came and went, and Merlin and Arthur knew he was there, as he was clearly visible when they wandered in and closed themselves in an empty stall, so he figured he wasn’t doing much damage and they were unbothered by his presence.

They would often do little more than flirt and bicker and tease, anyway, and there must not be any real concern for keeping their relationship a secret. Actually, Lance was starting to suspect they thought the other knights already knew, even though this was not the case.

That is the nail in the coffin—by inviting Gwaine to the stables with him, he’s only invading privacy Arthur and Merlin don’t even know they have, which, therefore, is not technically privacy.

Or maybe Lancelot is just really good at convincing himself he’s the good guy in any given situation, but that’s neither here nor there.

“I don’t understand why I’m here,” Gwaine says, gently petting the horse’s nose, “Aww, are you lonely, Lancelot?”

Lance rolls his eyes, carefully brushing her mane, trying not to irritate her too badly at all the tangles.

“You’ll see,” he says.

“Is brushing this horse your lame attempt at winning the bet?” Gwaine muses, “Or maybe something around here…” As he begins to look around, grinning, Lancelot begins to hear footsteps and voices, vibrant voices, heading this way. He grabs Gwaine by the wrist and all but throws him to the floor, at which the knight just looks up at him, shocked.

“You are going to sit there and be quiet,” Lance snaps, speaking quickly, lest he still be talking when Arthur and Merlin arrive, “This is my only chance at winning this bet because I am not capable of pissing in your wine or shaving off your eyebrows in the middle of the night!”

Gwain reaches up to feel his eyebrows, which are still there—Lance just wanted to freak him out.

“I have been going crazy for two weeks because I am too good of a man to go around spilling other people’s beans, even when those people don’t know there are beans to be spilled—!”

“Mate, are you alright?”

“Shut up!” Lancelot hisses, “If you say a word of this to anyone, I really will come into your bedroom at night and your eyebrows will be gone before you’ve wiped the sleep from your eyes! Do you understand?!” Gwaine nods, wide eyed.

“You know, you’re kind of sexy when you’re angry—”

“You know, we could just steal away to your bedchambers instead of coming here every day,” Merlin muses suddenly, breaking their conversation and effectively causing Gwaine’s jaw to unhinge.

“When I have things to do, Merlin, I tend to avoid being in rooms that include both you and flat surfaces,” Arthur replies cheekily, and if it were possible, Gwaine’s mouth opens even wider. Lancelot has to look away from him because he’s blushing—of course today would be a day where they were being more obnoxious than usual, though, he and Gwaine are situated behind a wall, so it’s likely neither are aware of anyone’s presence, yet.

“Arthur,” Merlin chides.

“Well when you frequently conduct yourself as a common whore—”

“Arthur! Lance is probably here somewhere!”

“I don’t see him.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not here, idiot.”

“But if he’s not here,” Arthur teases, “The floor is a flat surface—” Lance walks out from behind the wall abruptly, glaring half-heartedly at the lovers, Merlin who is leaned back against the door to the stall they usually steal, arms crossed over his chest, and Arthur who is caging him in with one arm, looking smitten.

As revolting as it is having to hear any of this is, Lance is quite chuffed that his friends are happy and in love. It doesn’t really bother him, or he would’ve made more effort to switch up his schedule.

“If you’re going to be disgusting, do it in the stall,” Lance grumbles at them, and Arthur grins widely.

“Ah, so he speaks!” Arthur teases, in reference to the many days they have come here and Lance has paid them no mind. Lance glances at Gwaine, just because he’s curious, and finds his face buried in his hands, a hint of blush peeking through.

Oh, he’s won. He’s won.

“I don’t know that you should be calling your paramour such a thing as a common whore. Especially when your paramour is my good friend Merlin,” Lance warns, unable to keep the warm smile from his face when Merlin pokes Arthur in the ribs playfully, beaming—and though it’s supposedly at the comment, Lance knows that it’s at Arthur.

They are happy, aren’t they?

“You wouldn’t be so certain if you had seen him this morning—”

“Arthur!”

“If I recall correctly,” Lance retaliates, “You’re the one who showed up to training this morning with a handkerchief ‘round your neck, which I suspect was hiding those nasty hickeys on your throat. Fairly certain I can deduce which of you acts as a common whore.”

“Ah, piss off,” Arthur says, grinning widely, completely unphased at the back-talk. Weeks ago, Lance would not have dared argue with the prince, but having grown to know of Arthur and Merlin’s dynamic, it’s safe to say back talk and true friendship is what the man prefers. The tough-love farce is just a face Arthur puts on—a convincing one, but a farce nonetheless.

“I think I quite like Lancelot’s points,” Merlin says, and Arthur knocks their foreheads together, bumping noses, which is when Lance elects to turn away and back to his horse (and Gwaine, who is dramatically lying on the floor in the fetal position).

“See you this afternoon, then, for bit more training?” Arthur calls towards him, presumably before they disappear into the closed stall to kiss some more. Lance looks up, grinning.

“Yes, of course, your highness.”

And with that, the entire ordeal is over, unless he’d prefer to drag Gwaine over and forcibly press his ear to the stall door, but that seems unnecessary.

“Are you alright?” he asks, as quietly as he can manage. “You win,” Gwaine says weekly, face buried in hay, “You. Win.”

—

“Lancelot won.”

“What?! How?! I pissed in your wine!”

“Percival, can you stop bringing up how you pissed in Gwaine’s wine? I’m starting to think you’re a pervert.”

“No, I’m a winner.”

“What could Lance have possibly done to move you?”

“I promised I wouldn’t tell, and if I’m honest, I do not want to.”

“Well now you have to tell us.”

“You’ll find out. Eventually.”

“That’s rather ominous.”

“Lancelot has certainly cheated. I pissed in your wine!”

“Percival! Enough!”

[3]

“Why’s Merlin here?” Leon asks, and Lance flinches, hard. He knew it would come to pass that all the knights would eventually find out Merlin outranked them in title, but he hadn’t counted on being present every time.

Yet here he is, a meeting at the round table with him, Gwaine, and Leon in attendance, Elyan and Percival are currently working patrol, to be filled in later, as this was a matter brought up without warning, and no time to free them of their duties before deciding what to do.

Lance watches, squirming awkwardly as Uther’s brow furrows, and he looks from Leon, to Arthur, and then—

“Because he outranks you, Sir Leon,” Uther says, as if that were obvious, “And I do not trust my son—” Uther gives Arthur a pointed look, “—to not tell him of these matters, even if I instructed him so. And he will accompany you on your journey, anyway, as he always has.”

Leon blinks, dumbly. A deep silence fills the room, and Lance knows his own discomfort is written all over his face. Merlin looks to be feeling a similar level of awkwardness, and Arthur’s got this stupid little grin, like he’s finding the situation quite funny.

“Merlin outranks a Knight of the Round Table?” Leon presses, clearly perplexed.

Lance hangs his head, and Gwaine outwardly groans. Arthur’s small smile presses into a full one.

Uther pauses a moment, and then looks to his son.

“Have you not told them?”

“We know,” Lance speaks up, to maybe soften the blow a bit.

“You know what?” Leon asks.

“Merlin is Arthur’s paramour. Legally he outranks us because he is basically royalty-adjacent,” Gwaine explains.

“Not basically, he is royalty adjacent.”

Leon looks between them and Arthur, who is still clearly amused, and Merlin, who looks to be in some degree of physical pain.

“But… I thought when you—at the party—”

“Leon,” Lance says, carefully, as to not rupture any brain cells, “I know this is a lot, but I believe there are several villages on fire that require a little more of our attention than Merlin and Arthur’s courtship.”

“They cannot be married!” Leon exclaims.

“You know what I mean!” Leon sinks back in his chair, visibly unable to process this information. Because Lance is so well-acquainted, it’s growing harder and harder for him to understand this sort of reaction. Sure, he was surprised as well, it’s not totally unbelievable. They spend all their time together, they’re quite affectionate if you know how to look for it—

“Now, if this foolishness is finished,” Uther says, and Lancelot jolts at the realization this entire sordid conversation happened in front of the king, “Here is what must be done.”

[4]

It’s a three-day ride to the area where the villages are being pillaged, and while they travel as long as they can, they end up making camp some time in the middle of the night, sitting comfortably around a fire and making pleasant conversation to ease the nerves of the trouble ahead.

This is good—more than good, as Lancelot quite enjoys these fireside chats—until Percival decides to ruin it, and ruin it completely.

“Which of us do you suppose is the best in bed?” Gwaine asks, a one-off question meant to strike up an affectionate argument, which catches the attention of all of them. Lancelot is laughing softly, and moving to answer—

As much as it pains me to say it, I’d have to go with you, you shameless whore.

—but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Merlin.”

Gwaine’s jaw drops next to him as his own stomach drops into the soles of his boots. Leon’s look of abject-horror is downright comical, but Lancelot is too disturbed to actually laugh at it.

“Do you have a death wish?!” Leon hisses.

“Why do you say that, Perce?” Arthur asks, and Lancelot risks a glance this way. Where he had been amused at Leon's cluelessness, he is clearly not amused by this. His jaw is set and his gaze is piercing. Lancelot then swivels his head to Merlin, who has the back of a hand pushed up against his mouth, presumably to keep him from devolving into hysterics.

“First he pisses in my wine,” Gwaine mumbles, only loud enough for Lance to hear it, “And now he tells the crown prince he thinks his paramour is good in bed.”

Now that? That does tickle him a bit, and he finds himself covering his mouth as well.

Percival shrugs, oblivious, “He looks it.”

“He looks it?” Arthur presses, and if Percival hears the edge in Arthur’s voice, it does not slow him.

“Sure,” Percival says, “Well—it’s more as if he doesn’t look it. Those are the sneaky ones, you know—they look innocent, and then bam! You're all laid out and you don't even know what's happened."

Right, so this is the worst of each of these situations, and Lancelot literally saw them lying naked together.

“I see your point,” Elyan begins, “But I raise you—”

“Why don’t we test this theory, yeah?” Arthur interrupts, and it’s like getting punched in the gut. Gwaine even chokes on his water, doubling over and coughing while Leon hangs his head in absolute mortification, and Lance rubs an incredulous hand over his face.

Percival and Leon stare.

“What?”

“Merlin,” Arthur says, “I’d like to test Percival’s theory, if you’ll have me.”

If you’ll have me---that’s disgusting. That’s so far beyond anything Lance has already heard from them that he actually doubles over and puts his head as far between his own knees as he can get them, thoroughly humiliated by this shameless display.

Fucking Percival.

“You can’t be serious—” Elyan cuts in, but Merlin cuts him off.

“Arthur—” How has he said just a name so sensually, and why has he chosen to do so, and will Lancelot ever unhear this conversation? God, he hopes so. “—I believe you are well aware that I will have you.”

Nope—this one’s forever.

“Brilliant,” Arthur says, “I’ll return with the results in a bit. Be prepared for a very detailed account.”

And with that, they promptly leave, Lancelot, Gwaine, and Leon all appalled, and Elyan and Percival clambering for answers that the three of them must now provide.

Merlin and Arthur are gone for a ridiculous amount of time, but none of them have the balls to go and check on them.

[+1]

Lancelot never imagined he’d see Arthur cry, much less weep, but as Arthur does, gripping his paramour’s shirt with what must be a terrible relief at seeing Merlin alive, he cannot help but think Arthur is the strongest, most courageous, and kindhearted man he has ever met. He glances over to Gwaine, who meets his gaze.

Gwaine nods.

Lance nods back.

The fight had been bloody, but the knights remain mostly unscathed with the exception of Leon who had taken quite a few hits, but was breathing, and insisting he was alright. The scariest part of the battle had been Merlin, whom had been, at one point, surrounded, and then disappeared from anyone’s sight.

It didn’t take much searching around after the violence had quelled, but it had taken enough that Arthur had completely convinced himself of the worst.

But Merlin was fine. Mostly unharmed.

To watch Merlin pet Arthur’s hair, whisper sweet-nothings in his ear, and assure him time and time again---

I'm here. I'm here.

---while the crown-prince weeps into his chest, shaking like a leaf—it is heartbreaking. So much so that after a few moments, Lance must avert his eyes, and finds his fellow knights doing the same.

“I thought I lost you. I thought—”

“Arthur,” Merlin says firmly, “You must breathe. I promise I am right here.”

After that, the knights give them their privacy, congregating where there are the least amount of bodies, but where they might still keep a wary eye on the townsfolk. You never know about the people out here and what they think of royal customs such as paramours, or more specifically, the disregard of gender that often occurs in such an arrangement, specifically this arrangement.

Lancelot makes sure to keep his wits about him.

“I see it a great disservice to the very idea of love that they may not marry,” Leon says finally, breaking the silence.

“They cannot marry?” Percival asks, “I thought that legally—”

“Arthur must produce an heir,” Lancelot interrupts, “It’s not a matter of the church, it’s a matter of the royal line.”

There’s a silence—not long, but shifty and a little disappointed at that harsh reality.

“We could always throw them a wedding, someday,” Gwaine pipes up, “Not that I don’t think they are totally disgusting—” Lance elbows him in the arm, effectively shutting him up.

“Quit while you’re ahead, Gwaine. A wedding is a nice idea.”

Another brief silence.

“I don’t think I’ve ever known two people so in love,” Lancelot continues, softly. And though no knight offers his verbal agreement, it is unanimous, and implicit.

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sokkastyles · 25 days

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Hi, I really like your blog and your metas; they're so well-worded. One of my favorite ones is this one, talking about Zuko and his privileges vs how he's victimized by the Fire Nation. I have one question, though. Do you think that Mai, also, in the Boiling Rock Prison arc, treated Zuko as a race traitor? Her reunion with Zuko and some things that she said rubbed me the wrong way. And if you could, would you mind expanding a little bit on how Zuko is treated as a race traitor by Fire Nation characters?

Zuko is actually treated as a potential race traitor from the beginning of the series, even when he's loyal to the Fire Nation and desperate to restore his honor according to their values. We see this as early as episode three in book one. And I believe that in the meta you mention, I also spoke about how that's tied in with his abuse, both on a political and personal level.

Because the thing about fascism (and yeah, we could argue whether the Fire Nation is truly a fascist nation because the writers used a conglomeration of tropes and real world influences for their fantasy world, but they definitely draw on fascist imagery heavily for their Fire Nation influences, so it still is present in the narrative) is that it's dehumanizing, and everyone is a potential traitor to the regime. It's where the idea of "thought crime" comes from.

We see this as early as the third episode of the series, when Zuko encounters Zhao, who treats him like a potential enemy even before learning that Zuko has been keeping the Avatar's discovery from him. Some of this is Zuko's backstory. Zhao looks down on Zuko because he knows the story of his disgrace and banishment, and this is used both to downgrade Zuko and to keep him loyal to the regime. It's similar to how Ozai treated him, both giving him a sense of what he is "owed," the greatness he can hope to achieve by remaining loyal, while also feeding the idea that he has to constantly make up for his own shortcomings. It's an entirely manipulative social order, like a cult but on a wider scale.

Under that system, questioning the regime gets you labeled as a potential traitor. Even though Zuko was acting in advance of the regime by keeping the secret of the Avatar's return so that he can capture Aang himself, he acted as an individual, and that's dangerous to the group think.

As for Mai, we see her act similarly towards Zuko from the moment they are together in book three. Her reaction to hearing him voice his concerns about going back home is to sarcastically tell him that he should not be worrying. On some level, I think Mai's emotionally closed-off personality is part of the reason she can't handle Zuko's uncomfortable emotional reaction. But she's also a product of the same regime, where questioning things is frowned upon.

Think of the way Zhao and Azula react to Zuko. Both mention his banishment, Zhao to emphasize his dishonor, and Azula to imply that he's become "uncivilized" due to living in exile for three years. Mai expresses similar prejudices towards people living outside the Fire Nation in her comments on the people of Omashu and the comic that takes place before the beginning of book three where she criticizes the food in Ba Sing Se, in front of Zuko who has actually been living there while in exile. So I think Mai is, on one level, very uninterested in any aspect of Zuko's life outside of the Fire Nation, and may subconsciously look down on Zuko because of it, the way she looks down on the people of the earth kingdom that Zuko has lived among, the way she looks down on servants (which Zuko is shown to be uncomfortable with).

Another part goes back to what I said about not questioning the regime. Zuko expressing doubts about going home challenges the very idea of Fire Nation superiority. Mai can't understand why Zuko wouldn't want to go home or why he would have doubts.

On another level, though, expressing doubt is literally dangerous, and Mai knows what happened to Zuko the first time he openly questioned the regime. On some level, she might associate Zuko worrying with him not being safe. The reality is that he is not safe either way, which is exactly why he should be worrying.

So Mai probably had those thoughts about Zuko even before he outright became a traitor. This is actually one of the ways fascism encourages people to turn against each other. If nobody is an individual, then individuals cannot be trusted.

All this is backdrop to Mai outright telling Zuko that he's betraying his country in "The Boiling Rock." And in between Zuko leaving and their reunion, there was also a propaganda play publicized that portrayed Zuko as not only a political traitor, but his romantic interest in Katara in the play is used to make him look like a joke, using racist tropes like the pale skinned man being "dominated" by a seductive, aggressive dark-skinned woman, and deferring to a man (Aang) who is considered to be from a "lesser" race. The gay jokes about Aang and Zuko are also typical of that sort of attempt to paint someone considered a race traitor as sexually deviant.

(You know what would be interesting to think about? If Mai saw that play. Did it fuel her feelings that Zuko had betrayed her, personally?)

What I think is actually pretty surprising is Zuko's ability to distinguish that no, I'm not betraying my country, I'm saving it, which is what he tells Mai. That idea doesn't seem to have originated anywhere else. Zuko could have just washed his hands of the Fire Nation altogether and embraced an identity as an expat, but he doesn't. Because he's always been someone who cared about his country.

#zuko #antimaiko

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dangermousie · 10 months

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Farscape rewatch 2x04: Crackers Don’t Matter

One of my favorite eps and the most quoted one in the Mousie household.

You know what I am struck by, this time? How crazily Farscape works. I am faced with the next to last scenes of this ep: John with green face-make-up, shiny cover, attacking a bug-looking alien with a sword as it gibbers, screaming 'humans are superior' and marvelling at the fact that somehow, it all works. How crazy is it? It works, works brilliantly. Farscape took some odd risks, some strange choices, but IMO, they almost always worked out.

And the way the humor (and this episode is bona fide hilarious) can coexist with cruelty and darkness because the ways the Moyans turn on each other is just vicious and what makes it horrible is that it’s their darkest ids, worst selves exposed - so it is them, even if the worst version of them.

And they have to live with it, with all the stuff they said and did, no easy solutions...

This is long and cap-heavy so behind read more...

I am also struck by how tight the writing is. It's obviously an organic show: it didn't have every plot detail worked out years in advance. But when things come up, they get so incorporated for later, they get brought up again, it all just fits. Just think of the little throw-away comment by Maldis in S1 that John lost his virginity to Karen Shaw, and how it comes to play in Kansas in S4. Why am I thinking of this for this ep? It's the fact that here is Harvey (his very first appearance), telling John that revenge is a dish best served cold, his whole attitude, his whole statement is so in line with the whole late S3 ep 'Revenging Angel' which echoes it so well. In RA Harvey fails to understand what makes John tick, what makes him stay alive: he is limited by his creator Scorpius. He fails to realize that what keeps John alive is hope and that for John, Aeryn is hope. (That is why chip!John in Scorpy's head in Incubator is so intractable, so final: he is post-loss-of-Aeryn, he really has nothing). What Scorpy fails in (and by extension Harvey) is to understand John on a very basic level: they don't really fit, like two odd pieces of a puzzle. Grayza of course makes the same mistake on Arnessk. It's going to sound corny, but Scorpy fails to understand goodness (not surprising considering his upbringing) while John has one-up on his opponent because he understands evil, because his face has been rubbed into it until it's raw.

I kept thinking, why is John the least affected by Traltixx in this ep? I am sure the eyesight has something to do with it (I love how Farscape turns on its head the old trope of humans being saviors because they are better. Crichton is 'better' because he is handicapped, because he doesn't see so well). But I think there are other issues here: for one thing, Crichton is a researcher, someone who must be analytical by nature. More importantly, he is attuned to oddness not just because of his post-Scorpy paranoia but because he is a stranger in a strange land, sensitized. And the thing is, just as with the chip later - knowing something is off is different from being able to put breaks on it. He periodically, alone among the rest of them, realizes something is wrong with his behavior but he is unable to truly stop it - the ugliness and the violence just come pouring out; the only concession to control is that he doesn’t kill anyone. The crew is horrifically ugly to each other in this one, but the ep is also mind-blowingly hilarious. Not like Out of their Minds, which is just plain funny. This one is funny with a hell of a sting. Some pretty bad things are said. I am struck not even as much by the Aeryn-John showdown (they know each other the best, so they really know where to hurt. Though I am still wondering how you can be both frigid and a skank :)) but I think it's because Aeryn and John cause each other such universes of pain, exactly when they are not trying to, but only trying to protect themselves or even do what is best for the other, that this is small fry. What is a little exchange of gunfire and a hit at Aeryn's being a traitor or John not measuring up to his father in comparison with Die Me Dichotomy or the coin toss or so much of late S3 or S4? Still, ouch ouch ouch.

What I am really struck by are other interactions: D'Argo with Rygel, flopping the little guy around like...well, a puppet, force-feeding him crackers. It's ugly. We haven't seen D'Argo attack a helpless being since DNA Mad Scientist, and we've forgotten, and it hurts. Though it does show a difference: here it's Traltixx doing an equivalent of drugging him. The inner savage is much further from the surface. The crew from early S1 would have succumbed to Traltixx in ten minutes flat.

And keeping with the fact that actions always have consequences, there is no magic forgiveness at the end (though also like Farscape, there is hope of one later.)

And Crichton with Chiana. It's an unnerving scene, horrible to watch, precisely because normally John is so protective of her, because for Chiana, John is in many ways her safe harbor, her surrogate big brother, someone who she would always feel safe in the area of sex with (i.e. he won't, with her). But he turns that protection on its head, something ugly (though luckily, a bunch of the horrible stuff comes from Harvey, not John, so she doesn't hear it).

Yikes.

Pretty telling tho that even messed with by Traltixx, any sexual threat is not from John but is suggestion of the chip, which is doing whatever to get Crichton to kill his shipmates so he’d be easier to capture. John himself is horrifyingly cruel but does not see Chiana this way at all.

The idea he ends up liking is tying her up next to the rest of them so he could try to talk without everyone shooting each other, not anything else and thank GOD.

This is such a reversal of his attitude in Taking the Stone so I think it's interesting that the attitudes in here and TtS are juxtaposed (in TtS Crichton is losing it a bit, slowly, but it makes him more protective, not less. That is the natural 'insane' Crichton, not the one where someone took over and brought out the darkest id; when he is himself, however utterly mad and irrational, he is never wantonly cruel to his loved ones.) And then of course, later, when he is back to sanity and tries to apologize, she blows it off, acts impressed. Chiana is queen of repression in some ways, however open she is in others.

You know, there is another reason why Crichton was the one to pull it together. (And no, I am not just referring to stubborness). He already has that edge of insanity to him and it's growing slowly larger. So has he figured out how to cope under weirdness while maintaining some control? He's had to persevere through some horrid stuff and had his head messed up with, so he can temporarily put aside distractions. But the thing is - this is only the start of Scorpius messing with his head. He can fight it on the margins for now (Harvey the Chip clearly wants him to kill everyone so he can be captured easier) but he can fight it even under the stress but we all know how it ends...

Oh yes!

He tries to tell Aeryn about seeing Scorpius but she’s also affected by the light and pays no attention and even John himself assumes it was some of the stuff Traltixx did (and I believe when they first had Scorpy show it was supposed to be a one off, not a chip) and oh boy, the misery that is going to eventually follow.

(the little correction she makes, heeeee...)

Oh boy, and eventually he will make you do that and this will be one of the worst moments of your life.

The thing is - having your mind hijacked is horrible but long before that happens to any significant degree, the layers of horror of it all are there because it’s not just John thinking he’s losing his mind and having his mind sorted through and controlled; it’s the fact that he now lives with the constant presence of his chief torturer in his head - it’s a somewhat literal metaphor for aftereffects of torture yes but also there is the sheer body horror of it which is incredible.

Yikes...

Side note - the ugliness with John and D’Argo bothers me least because they are evenly matched but also it’s pure physical violence, no emotional cruelty involved.

Also, cool bit of foreshadowing, Chiana aligning with D'Argo here but also, the way Aeryn and John still want to jump each other in this little scene tho they were shooting at each other and have not too much rationality. Heh.

God, those two must have some truly spectacular sex once they finally get to it.

Oh, and the sheer unhinged anything goes vibe of this is so perfect. I don’t know how they manage.

And of course Zhaan just spending the whole episode orgasming and show making no bones about it - I love how just genuinely out there the show was.

Just wild...

Crichton barreling through insanity to save the day but everyone emerging a little or a lot worse for wear is a lot of the modus operandi of this show and this episode really distills it down so concisely in the most gloriously insane way.

#farscape

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zeawesomebirdie · 4 months

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Brudick Co-parenting + Batfam Shenanigans Rec List

Thanks to @holybatmandickgrayson for requesting this, and thanks for your patience while I put it together!! (And paging @steine-druff as per usual!) Dick acting as the defacto second parent in the Wayne household is one of the best brudick tropes, and it has my whole entire heart. And the batfam dynamic itself has so much potential and is a joy to read, especially when the common goal of teasing Dick about Bruce is involved!

These are in no particular order, but I've tried to organise them into general categories. The titles to each fic contain a link to it. A lot of these are on the shorter end of the spectrum, but there's a few longer fics included too! I hope you find something here that you haven't read yet!

Co-parenting

1. Till You Find Your Dream by Kyele [@timeforalongstory on tumblr]; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 177,062 words; 31 chapters; complete

Summary:

“You know, my child, that the orphanage cannot continue to support you once you become an adult.” The abbess sighs. “There is one path that is always open to you. You may choose a holy vocation, and take orders. The Sisters of Perpetual Grace will accept you as a postulant if you choose.”

Dick had known to expect this. “Thank you, Reverend Mother,” Dick says respectfully, “but I cannot follow that path.”

The Mother Superior nods. He looks unsurprised. “Then perhaps,” he says, “you would be interested to hear of another opportunity.” From the papers on his desk, the abbess removes a single sheet. “Are you familiar with Captain Wayne?”

---

Dick accepts a position as governess to eight war-orphans, adopted by millionaire and WW1 flying ace Captain Bruce Wayne. The rest is inevitable.

Starting this list off with a bang, this fic is glorious! It's a The Sound of Music AU and A/B/O, and that sounds like a wacky mixture but truly this is one of the best co-parenting brudick fics I've ever read. It features beautiful sibling dynamics, Dick learning to function in high society at the same time as he's teaching the children to do the same, and the best exploration of gender and social roles I've ever come across. And the way the children come to accept Dick as their governess then protect him from being fired by Captain Wayne is utterly glorious!

2. The Fall of An April's Fool by Mysterious_Aud_Lou; rated M; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 3,967 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

All it took was one mission, one week, one bed, and one very tired mistake for Bruce Wayne to realize that he was in love with Dick Grayson.... and then came the fallout.

Bruce and Dick just came back from a mission in which they were fake engaged, and during that short mission, Bruce got a little too used to acting as a couple. Of course, the rest of the batkids pick up on this immediately, but luckily Dick is great at improv, and so this one has lived rent-free in my head ever since I first read it!

Damian Playing Matchmaker

Because I have a very surprising number of recs with this exact premise! These also sometimes double as co-parenting fics with the other batkids besides Damian too :)

1. Covet by resurrectedhippo; rated M; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 16,059 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Dick Grayson is an extension of Bruce Wayne. If there’s no Bruce Wayne, there’s no Dick Grayson. They struggle to exist without each other.

The entire world wonders if they have ever been separate people.

This one is a little bit of both co-parenting and Damian being the one to force them together. It features Bruce denying his feelings for a million years, Dick helping to train each successive Robin, and so much mutual pining it hurts (affectionate). And of course, Damian calling a family meeting to announce that Bruce and Dick will need to be wed over the summer, much to the shock of every other person in the family

And I'm adding a cut here because this is getting long, but I've got more under the read more!

2. Better than the Sweetest Dream by shield_of_selene; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 15,089 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Damian accuses Bruce of failing his Valentine’s Day duties; namely, romancing Dick Grayson. This starts a chain reaction that leads to exploding heart bombs, forced imprisonment, and wedding bells.

I love a villain who can commit to the bit, and the Matchmaker, a Valentine's Day themed villain, does not disappoint! This fic also features Damian having a better grasp of Bruce's emotions than Bruce himself does, which is always a delight to see!

3. To Court a Grayson by Mysterious_Aud_Lou; rated T; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 3,285 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Damian Wayne has always gotten what he wants, and what he wants is his father to realize that Bruce will find no better romantic partner than Damian's beloved Grayson. So, armed with a briefcase and a carefully planned powerpoint presentation, Damian takes on the challenge of convincing his father that it's time to throw all other romantic entanglements aside, and begin to court Grayson properly.

Oh my goodness, where do I even begin with this one? The whole thing is just glorious, featuring Damian hacking into Bruce's work calender, Bruce actually sitting through the entirety of Damian's presentation, and one of the most delightful reveals I've ever read!

General Batfam

1. Old and New by junetangerine; rated E; no archive warnings apply; 5,241 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Objectively speaking, he knew the man wasn’t infallible or indestructible (heaven knew he’d picked enough fights over it, Bruce insisting on patrolling even when he could barely stand on his own), but the prospect that he might not bounce back into the brilliant steamroller of a man that Dick loved in more ways than was appropriate or healthy was terrifying.

Not as jarring as the Twilight Zone experience of having Bruce look openly delighted to see him.

“Dick!”

It was all Dick could do to remain frozen in place while Bruce crossed the distance between them and just kept going, right into Dick’s personal space and then closer, until his mouth was against Dick’s. It was short, just a firm press of lips, but enough to turn Dick’s world on its head.

---

A head injury leaves Bruce confused. He seems to believe he and Dick are a couple. Dick doesn't have it in him to say otherwise.

Exactly what it says on the tin. This fic is a delight, featuring Dick being incredibly conflicted and Bruce trying to deny his feelings the moment he gets his memory back! Also featuring the various batkids accepting this new dynamic with surprising ease

2. Be Kind, Rewind by kleine_aster; rated T; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 2,138 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Batman always thinks of everything, except for erasing his old tapes when he really, really should.

This fic is very funny! I greatly enjoyed the dynamics between the various batkids as they processed what they were watching, and Dick's frantic reaction to being caught with Bruce

3. It's A Christmas Miracle (Or Not) by RandomMayhem [@randomlymayhemic on tumblr]; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 6,864 words; 2 chapters; complete

Summary:

With Harley and Ivy causing chaos in Las Vegas, Dick and Bruce must go on an impromptu trip to stop the unruly couple. Only, they aren't quite sure what exactly they're supposed to be stopping...

Waking up married wasn't in the plan, regardless. Not with Damian on the verge of pulling a Rumplestiltskin. So, there's no doubt about it - the holiday season's about to get a whole lot crazier.

In which Damian threatens Dick's firstborn child should they return home late for Hanukkah. This fic is very cute and very enjoyable, and the batfam's reactions to their impromptu marriage are a delight!

4. Truth or Dare by rnedagemacaroni; rated T; creator chose not to use archive warnings; 959 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

This is why the Bat Family kids should not have free time.

Anything with the batkids actually getting to relax and have fun is an amazing read, and this fic is no exception!! Oh to be a fly on the wall during their games of truth or dare!

5. Wayne Family Adventure: the secret episode by Caroaimezoe; rated T; no archive warnings apply; 4,005 words; 1 chapter; complete

Summary:

Prompt: How will the Batfamily take discovering that their dad and big brother/mother have been in a secret relationship for years

I adore the sibling dynamics in this one, and Damian being smug the whole time is just SO cute! There's also so much that could be said about how valiantly Dick tries to keep their relationship secret only to fail so miserably, it's a true delight

And that's all for now! I hope you enjoy these!

#brudick #rec list #thanks again for your patience while i put this together!!#this was very fun to do <3

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