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nogenderbee · 7 months

Note

Could I request Zhongli, Thoma, Ayato, and Al-Haitham, and Kaveh hearing their lover talking about how they want to spend an eternity with them?

Of course! Again oneshots to make the reactions different for all. But yeah I had lots of fun doing it so hope you like it too! <3

Zhongli, Thoma, Ayato, Alhaitham, Kaveh being told you want to spend an eternity with them

TagList: @bleachtheidiot

You and Zhongli had your classic and well known date, which was simple and yet enjoyable, so called tea date! You always chatted or listened to your boyfriend's stories, and his voice was always able of calming you down~

"... and that's how it ended. I could tell you a bit about the events that happened in the meantime. Have I told you about those time or have I not mentioned them untill now?"

"I don't think you did."

You were admiring him at this point, he may've thought that it's because you payed attention to what he's talking about at first but now when it was just you responding, and you still looked at him with this dreamy gaze, he knew there was something going on.

"Is everything alright, dear?"

"Yes, I was only thinking about how much I want to spend eternity you~"

That catched him off guard but he only showed surprised expression. He was a bit flustered but he wasn't blushing. He just cleared his throat and decided to move in from there.

"Ehem, thank you. I dearly hope your wish can come true. I'd be really happy as well if it would."

It was normal for you to visit Thoma when he was doing his job or was during his break. Maybe it was to help him or to simply spend time with him. Either way, he never really mind! In fact, he was more than happy to see your face and it always gave him the boost of motivation he needed.

Even now he was just finishing watering flowers at Kamieato Estate and yet he was also planning your date out loud.

"And after that little walk of ours, I thought of treating you to some sweet! Miss Ayaka gave me good place recommendation!"

You really found it quite impressive that he could do his work properly and think of you without a problem. Sure, Ayaka did helped him but that's still something! You couldn't help but let him somehow know how glad you are for him.

"That's perfect~ I really wish to spend eternity with no on else but you."

Boy's eyes went wide and shade of red quickly spread across his cheeks, as he became to stutter. He tries calming himself down but it seemed like it's of no use in front of you.

"A-Ah, thank you... you're... very kind... that's nothing new of course! I- My wish is the same, trust me dear."

You and Ayato just had a little walk. It wasn't a date but more like simple hangout to make the bond between you stronger. You were simply holding hands and chatting, even tho comfortable silence also had it's place.

"that's why I think dates like that turn out the best for us. But I saw that you enjoy those too, isn't that right?"

"Yes. You know me so well!"

"I try my best. If we plan to spend future with each other, it's only reasonable."

"Mhm, I wish to spend eternity with you~"

These words really just slipped from your mouth but it looks like he didn't mind at all. In fact, he seemed somehow pleased by your answer as he had a little smile on his face.

"Those are bold words. But I do feel the same. As long as I can, I'll always choose you~ in any life."

Maybe he was so calm because he expected it? Or he felt the same towards you for a long time and just didn't knew how to say it? Or maybe it's the fact he comes from region of eternity? Many questions and yet so little answers. But it doesn't matter! After all both of you have those lovey dovey smiles on your faces~

Quiet dates were common thing between you and Alhaitham. Even now he was reading a book as you were doing your own things, but he also held your hand with his free hand.

But you suddenly got an idea or maybe your mind just wandered somewhere... whether was it for the sake of making him at least a bit flustered or because you genuinely wanted him to know... lovely words left your mouth.

"You know, I really wish to spend eternity with no one other than you..."

"Thank you, I'm glad we both think the same. I can't wait to see what the future will be like for us."

He says it almost as if he expected it, as if it was already so obvious to him. But you know him and you made sure to look closely... when your said those words, is eyes went wide a bit and even now he has problems with focusing back on his book, he may even quickly look your way from time to time.

He was trying his best to hide how flustered that made him but you couldn't let go so simply! So of course you added few more words to tease him~ And as you do, a faint blush appears on his face.

"It seems like my words moved you a bit~"

"Only a bit. It's expected reaction when I hear my lover say such a thing."

Kaveh and you were classically walking around while he was rambling to you about what kind of project he had in mind recently. He never liked to spend time with you in his house because of his roommate... long story short, you usually hangout outside.

But today, when you two were walking, you couldn't focus on what he's talking as you were lost in your thoughts.

"Hey! Earth to Y/N! What were you even daydreaming of?"

"Oh! Well... I was just thinking of how I wish we could spend eternity together..."

"What-!?"

You definitely made him blush, but he also liked the idea of spending so much time with you. He was simply a bit shocked to answer you instantly.

"Mhm, I thought of how it can look... you know, our house, our life... all of that."

He definitely needed some time to calm down so you stood silent for few seconds to let him do just that. And soon after, you finally received a reply from him!

"It sounds lovely~ I think I already have few ideas on aesthetic of our house. I'm sure you'll like it!"

❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉⊱•═•⊰❉

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nirikeehan · 3 months

Note

Hi Niri! Mashing up "flustered and tongue tied" with "This made me think of you" from Fluffuary prompts! Happy writing!

hellloooo this was great for some shady bestie brainrot

something something something tattooing as non-sexual intimacy, i swear i will write the actual tattooing part someday. right now it's just feels idk

set sometime near It's Never Sunny in Barovia end game (bold of me to assume I'll ever get that far in the chronology, but I digress)

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 731

---

“What’s this?” Thalia asks.

Metrion has shoved a folded, crumpled piece of parchment into her hand. He shrugs, as if the wind blew it in, not something he’s surreptitiously produced from one of his coat’s many pockets. “Just something I doodled last night.”

Thalia’s eyebrows shoot skyward. She gets the profound sense he’s trying to downplay a skill of which he’s actually quite proud. He keeps glancing away, then back again, as if eager to see her reaction. “I didn’t know you— ah, doodled.”

“Yeah, well, you know me,” he says with a sly giggle, “I’m a better diddler than a doodler—”

“Please stop.” She unfolds the parchment before he can make another off-color joke. She is met by clean lines and an impressive design: a small dagger piercing the blossom of a rose, stray petals transforming into droplets of blood.

“It’s beautiful.” Thalia looks up, mouth open in awe. “You drew this?”

Metrion shrugs, but he’s grinning wide enough for her to see his gold incisor. “Yeah. I dunno. Made me think of you, for some reason.”

“I’m flattered,” Thalia says, gratitude spreading its warm across her chest. “Do you mind if I keep it?”

With Castle Ravenloft looming so close, she would like to hold on to whatever pieces of this friendship she can. Metrion stares at the ground, kicking at a clump of grass with the toe of his boot. “Yeah, er. About that.” Although she has grown used to the intense pigmentation of his true complexion, she finds it difficult to tell when he might be blushing. “I had an idea.”

“Oh? Do share.”

He clears his throat. “You got that tattoo on your face.”

Thalia’s fingers stray to her right cheekbone. She remembers what he said the first day they met, when he’d used stage makeup to cover it up for safety’s sake, about being an amateur tattooist. She hadn’t known at the time whether to believe him, or if that was another of many colorful falsehoods. “So I do.”

Metrion glances up through the messy strands of white hair that have fallen into his eyes. “You want another?”

Thalia stares. “On my face?”

“No, no, no, no.” His shoulders are hunched, hands shoved in his trouser pockets, gaze darting. “Well, I mean. Anywhere you want. If you want. As like, I dunno, a final hurrah? One last fuck you before we go.”

“You want to give me a tattoo?” Thalia is stunned.

“Only if you want one, love.” Metrion shrugs, meeting her eyes. “I remember what you said. That the first one wasn’t your choice.”

And she recalls what he said, about knowing what’s like to have something done to you against your will. She hadn’t believed it then, thinking him to be all bluster and flattery. Thalia swallows hard. “I appreciate that.”

“It doesn’t have to be terrible. The experience. That’s all I mean.” He’s back to kicking the grass, turning up clumps of dirt; she suspects the innkeepers won’t love that.

Thalia finds, quite suddenly, that she is blinking back tears. She surges forward, forgetting that he doesn’t like sudden moves, that true physical affection is difficult for him. She throws herself against him and hugs him hard.

“Oof,” he says, staggering backward, but he doesn’t flinch. “Hey. It’s not that big a deal, m’lady. Hey.”

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbles, mortified.

She tries to disentangle herself, but he wraps his arms around her and gives her a squeeze. “Nah, it’s all right. Think I saw a bat skulking around; let’s give that motherfucker a show.”

Thalia laughs in spite of herself. The giggles mix with her sniffling. She pulls back finally, wiping her cheeks with the back of her palm. “Forgive me. I don’t know what came over me. No one’s ever— I mean, usually, when people know, they just pity me, or think it’s a sign I should be back in a tower somewhere. No one’s ever suggested I should get another, to make this one hurt less.”

Metrion watches her closely. His shrug is careless, but his expression is raw. “Well, first time for everything, yeah? Think about it, maybe. Then we can—”

“Yes,” she says, cutting him off. “Do it. Now.”

He cocks a silvery brow. “Right now?”

She laughs. “Do we have much time otherwise?”

Metrion sighs, casting a glance in the general direction of Castle Ravenloft. “Guess not.”

#thalia trevelyan #metrion the magnificent #it's never sunny in barovia #curse of strahd au #fics #dragon age drunk writing circle

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animeomegas · 3 years

Text

Omega!Itachi Getting Married

Anon: Helllooo!!! I was wonderin if u could write for omega itachi getting married. I'd really appreciate it :)

(Hello! Hello! This is the oldest request in my inbox, so I hope this ends up being worth the wait! Enjoy~ <3)

Warning: implied sexual activity

General headcanons - Non-massacre AU:

Itachi has always known that he would get married someday.

After all, it was his duty as clan heir.

But he never expected to actually love his mate. He was required to angle for a politically/socially advantageous match and he had made his peace with that.

If he had to marry someone to keep peace between clans, he would. If he had to marry someone his parents chose for him to keep conflict in the family down, he would.

Itachi’s fatal flaw is that he doesn’t see his comfort/happiness as important.

And while he looked forward to his future children, his future spouse was a neutral event. It would happen, whether he wanted it to or not, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Best case scenario, he might have a new friend, or at least someone he respects, to live with him.

Worst case scenario, he ends up in a horrible marriage. He tried not to think too much about this option.

He never expected there to be any love between him and his future spouse.

Until he met you.

He found a person who actually loved him. An alpha who was as dedicated to a future family as he was. A partner who respected him more than he had ever hoped.

And Itachi fell hard and fast.

So, when you proposed, he felt like everything he had never dared to hope for was coming true.

You went to get his parents’ permission first (and the permission of the clan by proxy) and did the proposal in front of them. It wasn’t ideal, you knew Itachi would be happier with a private proposal, but you also knew that Itachi wouldn’t believe that he had their approval unless he saw it first-hand.

Itachi and his family are very traditional, so you weren’t mated before you got married, instead, you mated on your wedding night.

Itachi is very happy to let his family dictate the wedding. He doesn’t care as long as he’s married to you at the end of the day.

(But he does have preferences that you can extract from him, but getting Itachi’s true opinion, can be like pulling teeth.)

Proposal:

You had known Itachi since you were both 18, two years now. You had been courting him officially for a year and a half before you proposed.

As I mentioned, you proposed in front of Itachi’s parents, to make sure that he knew that you had gained their approval.

Sasuke was also there, after years of bribery, finally accepting of you and Itachi’s relationship. You met Sasuke when he had just graduated from the academy, and he was not impressed by this new person stealing his brother from him when he wanted Itachi to train him ☹

For Itachi, it was a normal family dinner.

He definitely noticed that you were behaving nervously, but he knew his family could be stiff, overly traditional and a little intimidating, so he figured that was the cause of your discomfort.

Sasuke was also staring at you suspiciously the whole evening, but to be honest, sometimes Sasuke was just like that, so Itachi thought nothing of it.

You kept a hand on his knee for the entire meal, only letting go of him when you announced that you had brought dessert for everyone and would be happy to serve it.

Itachi smiled his gorgeous smile at you, so pleased to see you making an effort with his family (or perhaps he was smiling about the desert, Itachi’s sweet tooth is legendary after all. It was difficult to tell.)

Nervously clenching your hands, you walked over to the fridge, pulling out the plate of dango you had hidden in there earlier. It was Itachi’s favourite, and if there was anything to convince him to say yes to your proposal, it was a demonstration of how much dango you were willing to buy for him.

‘Don’t mess this up,’ you said to yourself, gingerly sliding the plate of dango out of the fridge. It was an elaborate platter that had cost far too much. There were seven different dango flavours with an assortment of dips and dressings, arranged artfully with fruit and dried flowers to decorate the plate.

You walked to back to the table and presented the plate with a dramatic flourish to hide your nerves.

Itachi’s face lit up. Despite your nerves, his obvious excitement put a smile on your face. He really was perfect.

And that’s why you can’t mess this up.

“There’s anko, green tea, sesame,” you pointed at each flavour as you listed them. “Hanami and…er… some other ones…?”

Sasuke scoffed at your embarrassing failure to recall the flavours, causing a red flush to creep up your neck. You didn’t even know that there was this many dango flavours before yesterday! Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, perhaps due to the sharp look Itachi had shot at him.

“I made sure to get enough for everyone, but there’s something I’d like to ask for in return.”

You could see Itachi trying to catch your eye, probably to ask what an earth you were doing, but you purposefully avoided looking in his direction.

“The only thing I ask,” you continued, nervously. “Is for a minute of your time before we eat dessert.”

Mikoto smiled at you and nodded for you to go ahead with a gentle wave of her hand. Sasuke simply raised an eyebrow at you but didn’t interrupt.

“Great,” you laughed nervously. “Um, so, er, Itachi.”

Itachi straightened under your sudden attention. He looked immensely uncomfortable and confused, he was probably panicking about you doing something in front of his family that you would regret. He always played liaison between you and his family to avoid conflict and was probably not comfortable with you doing this. Unfortunately, he would never believe that you had his parents’ approval if you didn’t propose in front of them.

“I’ve known you for two years now, Itachi,” you started, finally looking at Itachi in the eye. “And it sounds horribly cheesy, but I think that I fall in love with you more every day.”

A barely audible gasp left Itachi. He was a genius, after all, he had probably figured out where this was going. He looked torn between panicked and elated, seeming to settle somewhere around shell-shocked.

“I’ve come to realise recently that, a life without that love, without your love, isn’t a life that I want.”

You can just about see tears gathering in Itachi’s waterline. It doesn’t look like he’s breathing at all.

With one final rush of bravery, you pulled out the diamond ring that had been weighing down your pocket for months and knelt down onto the dining room floor.

“Will you marry me?”

Itachi’s head whips around to face his parents, most likely preparing some serious damage control. But when he sees his mother’s gentle smile and his father’s subtle nod, he slowly moves his gaze back to you. You’ve never seen him look so shocked before. It was almost amusing enough to distract you from your nerves. Almost.

“I-,” Itachi swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say what you want to say, Itachi,” his mother replies, trying to encourage him.

His mother’s words seemed to break him out of his stupor and Itachi breathes out a single word.

“Yes.”

You let out a delighted and relieved laugh, taking Itachi’s hand in yours and slipping the ring onto his finger, and even though his family were all watching you, you couldn’t help but pull him into an embrace.

“I love you so much,” you whispered to him. “I’ll read you my real proposal speech this evening.”

Itachi laughed into your shoulder. His laughter had a hysteric edge to it, his mind still clearly reeling at what you had just done.

“Real speech?”

“You didn’t think I was going read my real proposal out in front of your parents, did you? No way. They still think we’re virgins and I didn’t want to spoil that illusion for them.”

Itachi quickly and efficiently jabbed you in the stomach and hit you with his infamous glare.

“Okay, I deserved that,” you winced, gingerly rubbing the sore spot.

Finally, you pulled away and moved to dish out the dango. And if Itachi got the biggest portion, well, no one mentioned it.

Planning:

Itachi lets his clan take over the planning.

He doesn’t want to deal with the stress of having to combat his family at every turn and would much rather just let them do it. As long as you’re there with him, nothing else really matters.

But even when his clan leave the smaller decisions up to him, he’s hesitant to voice his opinions, wanting his alpha to make them as an apology for his family commandeering everything.

But if you pay attention to little signs and reactions that Itachi gives, you can figure out some of his wants and desires.

Overall, there isn’t much to say about the wedding planning, because Itachi doesn’t do much of it.

Things he wants (compromise available/no compromise allowed):

Sasuke as his groomsman and Shisui as his best man – Itachi doesn’t have many close friends or relatives. He has you, Sasuke, Shisui… er, he’d probably invite his old captain Kakashi and… well, you get the point. So, every person who is important to him needs to be by his side at his wedding, and who is more important than his best friend and little brother.

A traditional wedding – He isn’t actually that bothered by what type of wedding he has, but he knows his family and clan will insist on a traditional celebration and as I mentioned, he doesn’t want to fight. The elders will push the wedding to be held in the clan compound and Itachi would be told to wear a traditional Uchiha wedding garment.

A sweets cart – This is something that he won’t bring up, and therefore isn’t bolded, but it’s very easy to see his face light up when he sees this in a wedding catalogue. It’s a wooden cart with different jars of sweets with little scoops for people to help themselves to. Itachi loves sweet food, obviously, but he also thinks it would be something the children in the clan would adore. He kind of really wants one, but he won’t bring it up unless someone else does first.

An early wedding – He won’t fight you or his family about this, but ideally, he would like to get married in the morning, maybe around 8 or 9 AM. Itachi is definitely an early bird who prefers the ambience of the early morning which is part of the reason, but mainly he just wants the performative part of the wedding over and done with so he can start his honeymoon. He doesn’t find it appealing to spend all night pretending to tolerate the elders of his clan who will almost certainly spend their time berating him for his choice of partner and then telling him he needs to have as many children as possible because he’s a powerful ninja that will produce powerful children. He just doesn’t want to deal with it. Leaving at 6 PM with you to go on your honeymoon and finally, finally mate? That sounds much more fun.

To try and conceive on his honeymoon – Obviously, he’s not going to force anything if you aren’t ready, but he would really love to start trying to conceive straight away. He’s desperate to have his own children, firstly, but also, he knows this is his only ticket to retiring from being a ninja. He wants to retire so badly, and so if you’re both ready for children, he doesn’t want to wait.

The wedding:

You don’t see Itachi for a day before the wedding, as is tradition. You see him for the first time that weekend when he’s walking down the hall towards you.

And as Fugaku walks Itachi down the aisle, you are completely breathless.

He looks stunning.

His hair had been intricately platted with flowers, some lose strands of hair left to frame his face.

He’s wearing a deep red, formal kimono just as you expected, but it looked so much more beautiful than you had imagined.

He looked like royalty.

The whole ceremony flew by, and before you knew it, it was time for you and Itachi to say goodbye and leave for your honeymoon.

Your honeymoon was to be had at a cabin held deep in the woods on the Uchiha compound. The rule was that married couples could not be disturbed for anything other than a life-or-death emergency, so you would be completely alone.

It might have been nice to go abroad, but the Uchiha clan didn’t want Itachi to be distracted by his honeymoon outside of Konoha where he might be attacked and his eyes stolen.

You both had already been by to drop off everything you would need for the week, including clothes, food, games and toiletries.

So, now, all that was left was for you two to get there yourself.

You and Itachi had decided to amble your way to the cabin, taking your time to enjoy each other’s company after a day of socialising with everyone but each other. Not to mention that neither of your outfits were particularly well designed for gallivanting through the forest. It would be rather embarrassing to have to end your self-imposed isolation to go to the hospital on day one, so walking slowly was probably a good idea.

You had been walking for about thirty minutes so the cabin should be… There! You were there!

“Wait!” you shot out a hand to stop Itachi from entering, startling him slightly. “Don’t go in yet.”

Itachi furrowed his brows, absently blowing a stray hair from his face that must have fallen down during the walk.

“I… want to carry you inside,” you admitted bashfully.

Itachi chuckled but stepped closer to let you do it. You beamed at him, pressing a kiss against his lips as a thank you. He looked a lot more tired than this morning; his hair was falling out of its elaborate placement and the makeup you were sure he was coerced into using was a little smudged.

He really was the most beautiful person you had ever met.

With his permission now gained, you placed an arm around his shoulders and another arm behind his knees, before gently lifting him off the ground. You nuzzled Itachi’s neck, enjoying his content scent and the way he sighed happily at your attention.

With your husband firmly in your grasp, you nudged open the front door with your foot and stepped safely over the threshold. You carried Itachi all the way to the bedroom and placed him down gently on the bed.

Itachi leant up to steal a kiss.

“Bringing me straight to the bedroom, you are incorrigible,” he teased, kicking off his shoes and making himself comfortable on the bed.

“I-I wasn’t, I didn’t mean that!” you sputtered, flushing under Itachi’s laughter. Silence fell over the room for a moment as the exhaustion from the day swept over you both.

“Would you mind helping me out of this kimono, please? I think it’s time for something a little more comfortable.”

It took a solid ten minutes to get Itachi out of his clothes and into some pyjamas. Ten minutes and a lot of swear words as every layer seemed to be hiding another one underneath.

“This wasn’t how I imagined undressing you on our wedding night, that felt a lot like pass the parcel but somehow more stressful.”

“Oh?” Itachi questioned, pulling you to sit down on the bed with him, finally free from the constraints of his wedding attire. “How did you imagine it?”

Rather than answer with words, you pressed wet kisses over Itachi’s neck, smirking against his skin as you felt his hand come up to grasp at your hair and a gentle moan escape from his lips.

This was definitely going to be the best part of the celebrations.

#itachi uchiha #omega!itachi #itachi x reader #alpha!reader #gn!reader #reader insert #omegaverse #abo #a/b/o #fluff #wedding #naruto #headcanons #scenario #alpha x omega #male!omega

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introvert--weeb · 3 years

Text

The reader is giving me Senju Kawaragi and Imaushi Wakasa vibes 👍 I'm not totally sure if what I've written is what you had in mind but it's what I had interpreted the request as

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!!

Mikey, Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya with a silent m!reader

TW: mentions of violence, fighting

Mikey

Mikey was used to how silent you could be. You had never been any different. People even knew you under the nickname of 'Ghost Boy'.

Mikey hardly knew anything about you that you hadn't told him directly. No-one even knew your last name unless they had asked you about what it was.

Even though he was your boyfriend, Mikey still could not tell when you were approaching. It was almost as if you floated rather than walked like everyone else. He had noted that you didn't seem to talk a lot, even when you were both alone.

You also seemed to react to things a lot faster to how most middle school boys you age did. In fact, you were hard to hit in a fight which had made Mikey a little suspicious that you weren't just a simple middle schooler. In fact, if he hadn't known any better, he would have said you were a member of a gang. After all, you rivalled him in reaction time.

At school, people knew you as the leader of a gang of friends who were just like you. Even though students at your school thought you were all a gang, none of you clarified whether you were or not. It remained a mystery to everyone.

Mikey knew about your little group. At one point he even thought you were leading your own gang. Especially when he had caught you and your group fighting against a gang that had cornered you all. Some questions had been answered while more arose in their place. Like how could move that fast? And how did you kicks knock out someone twice your size? It seemed like the whole group were on your level. None of you seemed to be human in your movements.

All of what he saw had made his curiosity about you grow all the more. After all, you were both in a relationship and he hardly knew you if this was anything to go off.

Definitely the boyfriend who would compliment you after the fight, telling you how cool you looked and how you should join Toman. Although you would refuse to join his gang, it didn't stop you two from sparring every now and then. The current standing was 50 wins for you to his 54.

Draken

Draken was no different from anyone else when it came to how silent your approach was. In fact, he had almost experienced a heart attack every week when you had snuck up on him. Not that you tried to sneak up on him.

How you two had gotten together was a mystery that no-one could solve. You were just so different from each other. Draken was loud, bold and everyone felt his presence when he entered the room. You however were reserved, quiet and no-one noticed you until it was too late. No-one could sneak up on you though as your reactions to any movement were too quick. There was one time where you had accidentally punched someone who approached you from behind with their hand outstretched.

Your boyfriend had always stated that you should join Toman since you were able to sneak up on others and that is a great quality for fights. Even if you weren't physically strong. You simply refused, not wanting to be placed where others could potentially treat you different because you were dating their Vice Captain. Although there were rumours that you were in a gang with your friends but no one knew since you never agreed or denied.

It was as if fate had told him to head to the supermarket that one night. He was just rounding the corner when he could hear what sounded like a fight. Curiosity got the best of him as he went to watch the commotion that was happening.

To his surprise, he watched as his boyfriend had flipped his opponent onto his back with a swift kick to the side of the head following after. Blood had stained your boot as you moved to take down the others. Your friends were just as swift with their fighting partner and in no time at all the gang was lying unconscious.

"Didn't realise you were in a gang Y/N," Draken called out as he approached you. Maybe that is why you never agreed to join Toman. You however just ignored the statement since it was neither truth or lie, and instead asked what your tall boyfriend was doing out and about.

Maybe it was the way you dodged the topic but Ken found himself wanting to learn more about this side of you. Were you always out fighting or was it only when people would approach you? Did you take advantage of your silent nature when fighting or was that not something you thought about? So many questions swirled around Draken's mind about what he wanted to find out about you.

Takemichi

What had attracted Takemichi to you was how strong you seemed. Just like you, your aura was silent and unnoticeable. You were known as a phantom since you would just appear where others were.

As you both got into a relationship, he realised that he knew nothing about you really. He knew your first name but not your last; he knew your friends and yet he had never noticed them; and he knew about the rumours of you being a delinquent in a gang that involved your friends but didn't know if it was true. Every time he brought up the topic, you would either ignore him or just brush over a response.

There had been times where Takemichi hadn't noticed you were there, something he hated to admit to himself. You were just so quiet that you blended into the background of any scene. You would be hyper-vigilant of your surroundings and so your reaction time was incredible fast. It reminded him of Mikey.

It had been while he was on a bike ride with Mikey and Draken that he noticed you and your friends in an empty parking lot, 15 high schoolers circling your group of 4. Takemichi had asked Mikey and Draken to pull over so he could help you out. However, although he never took his eyes off you, before he knew it the high schoolers were on the ground groaning in pain.

Had he blinked that long? There was no way 4 middle school boys could have defeated all those boys in less time it takes to complete a blink! Mikey and Draken were also shocked at what they saw. It would have taken them at least a minute or so to defeat that gang but you had got it done in seconds. It couldn't be possible but they had witnessed it with their own eyes.

The curiosity that your boyfriend already harboured about you had increased tenfold. Maybe those rumours of you being in a gang were true, not that you would enlighten him on the thought. You would remain as closed off as you always had.

Not noticing that your boyfriend was there, you had walked off with your friends following. Mikey and Draken pestered Takemichi for information about you. Were you a gang leader? Were you a strong fighter? Would you join Toman if the blond asked? All questions Takemichi had no answer to. He wanted to learn more about you and maybe this was the time he could.

Mitsuya

You had both met each other when collecting your younger sibling. It was just a coincidence that they happened to be friends with Luna. They had both left the classroom together and made their way over to where Takashi was stood. Unbeknownst to him, you were stood to his right around a foot distance between the two of you.

Mitsuya wasn't going to lie. He was confused when your sibling hadn't diverted off to where someone would be waiting for them. After all, he was only here for Luna and she hadn't mentioned anything about a play date. However, it was only when your sibling walked up to you that he even realised someone was next to him. A conversation had started there, you hardly speaking while Mitsuya simply enjoyed your presence.

Once you were together, he still couldn't get you to open up fully to him. The only reason he knew your last name was because Luna had told him your sibling's full name. He had also heard the rumours that you were leading a gang but you would just shrug and explain that the rumour had always been around. So he got no straight answer of whether you did lead a gang or not.

Mitsuya had noticed how your reactions were suspiciously fast when it came to anyone approaching you from behind. There had been a time where you had flipped someone over your shoulder due to them simply going to get your attention through a shoulder tap.

One day Mitsuya had gone to ride his bike to meet up with the other Toman leaders to hang out. As your boyfriend passed the park, he noticed you were hanging out with your friends when a boy twice your size had come to harass you. Mitsuya felt panic bubbling in his chest as he pulled over, the thought of going over to defend you crossing his mind. That was until you had simply kicked at your opponent, knocking him down in an instant. For your size, you shouldn't have been able to knock him out unless you were Mikey and Mikey was a monster. But the larger boy didn't get back up while you simply continued your conversation with your friends.

Mitsuya was both impressed and intrigued. Had you always been able to fight? Was this how the rumours about you being in a gang had started? His curiosity about you had grown significantly and he made it his mission to find out everything about you.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #draken x reader #draken #ken ryuguji #ken ryuguji x reader #mikey sano #mikey x reader #manjiro sano #male reader #tokyo revengers headcanons #takemichi hanagaki #takemichi x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya takashi #requested #anime drabble

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blackkatmagic · 3 years

Note

Could I please request a drabble with Mace meeting Jaster? Time travel shenanigans would be loved and heart-eyed, but are not required.

“A Jedi is hiring a Mandalorian for a job?” Jaster asks, one brow raised, and can't help the thread of incredulity that creeps into his voice. “Perhaps you're confused, Jetii, but our people have been enemies for millennia.”

“I'm well aware,” the Jedi says, unmoving. Jaster has, admittedly, never been quite this close to a Jedi, and he can't help but be faintly impressed at the man’s stoneface, particularly given the bright-eyed Chalactan girl peering around his side. Her hands are hooked into his sash without any apparent fear of being shaken off, or any apparent concern for her Master’s dignity, and Jaster finds himself reluctantly amused despite the man’s temerity.

“Oh?” Jaster asks, leaning back in his chair. His blaster is within easy reach, and the Jedi is far enough away that Jaster has the advantage. “Bold of you to approach me with a job offer, then.”

“Is it?” the man asks, and reaches up, folding his hood back. Jaster stills, startled, because he hadn’t thought there were Korun Jedi—Myles has always been very insistent that the Korun people have their own Force traditions, and outsiders aren’t welcome to step into them. He’s a handsome one, too, tall and broad shouldered, with a lean strength to him that even the loose, comfortable robes can't hide. Steady, he meets Jaster's eyes, and says, low, “It seems to me, Mand’alor, that our status as enemies means no one will suspect me of having hired you.”

Ah, Jaster thinks, smiling. Like that, is it. He hums, then says, “Jango, who don’t you show this lovely padawan the gardens? I'm sure she would like to see them.”

“What?” Jango demands, outraged the way only a fourteen-year-old can be. “Buir, I'm not leaving—”

Jaster levels a pointed look at his son, and his mouth snaps shut. He scowls, deep and affronted, and crosses his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t be meeting with a Jedi alone,” he says grumpily. “Myles is going to yell at you.”

“Myles will survive,” Jaster says, though it’s likely true. “Master Jedi, I hope you don’t object to speaking privately.”

“Of course not,” the Jedi says, perfectly calm, and glances down at his padawan. “Depa. Be polite.”

That is, Jaster reflects wryly, an incrediblyfamiliar tone of voice. He’s willing to bet the girl gets herself into almost as much trouble as Jango, given how practiced it sounds.

And, on cue, the girl beams up at her Master without hesitation. “I'm always polite, Master Mace,” she protests, perfectly, wickedly innocent. Mace doesn’t answer, just sighs, and Depa laughs, rising up on her tiptoes. She hauls him down, no thought given to dignity, and plants a loud, showy kiss on his cheek, then hops back two steps and turns that smile on Jango, who freezes like he was just dipped in carbonite, his eyes going wide.

She is, Jaster thinks with amusement, a very pretty girl. He wonders how quickly Jango will manage to stick his foot in his mouth this time. Within ten minutes, judging by last time. Jaster doesn’t precisely have high hopes for their interaction, but at least this isn't the daughter of a high-profile client that Jango is going to offend. The Jedi needs them, not the other way around, and given Jedi morals, he likely won't turn to the Death Watch the instant he’s insulted.

“Depa,” Mace says, a warning, but Depa ignores it, grinning at Jango and folding her hands behind her.

“I would love to see the garden,” she says cheerfully. “Jango, was it?”

“Jango Fett,” Jango says, only a little mulishly, and takes a careful step forward, like he’s worried she’s going to bite him. “It’s this way, I guess.”

He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried. Jaster rather suspects he is.

As the door slides shut behind their two witnesses, though, Jaster's amusement fades slightly, and he turns his gaze on Mace, narrow and thoughtful as he considers the man, his presence on Mandalore, the quiet, entirely understated way he arrived.

“This isn't a mission from the Jedi Order,” he says, weighing. “I might even go so far as to say they have no idea of your presence here.”

“They don’t,” Mace says bluntly. “I'm here on my own business, and acting on information the Jedi Council isn't privy to.” There's a pause, and then a rueful curve just touches one corner of his mouth. “Believe me, Mand’alor. I do not go behind the Council’s back easily. This is vital, and I'm willing to provide the funds to prove it.”

Jaster smiles, a little humorless, a little thin. He’s not fond of being played, and this sounds very much like Mace is trying. “I have plenty of credits, Master Jedi. Why should I find yours any more appealing than anyone else’s?”

Mace doesn’t hesitate this time, just raises his chin. “Because I have something that is far more valuable than credits,” he says calmly. “I can provide you with information.”

It is, Jaster will admit, a tempting prospect, but he’s still wary. “Jedi information? Access to the Archives, perhaps? If I wanted dry Jedi tomes on political law—”

“No,” Mace interrupts, flat, and takes two steps forward, until he’s right across Jaster's desk. “Far more important and immediate information. Such as the name of the traitor who will kill you. And the location of Jango Fett's older sister.”

Jaster freezes, hardly daring to breathe. Arla was gone by the time he’d made it back to the Fett homestead on Concord Dawn, and no trace of her has ever surfaced. Jaster has been looking, because Jango speaks of her endlessly, but—

“That,” he rasps, voice half-caught in his throat, “could be considered blackmail, Master Jedi.”

Mace tips his head. “Proof of my desperation,” he says, and there's no self-consciousness to it, just blunt honesty. A pause, and then he says, faintly rueful, “I’ll give you her location whether you take the job or not. The Death Watch has her.”

Jaster was afraid of that. He breathes out, slow, careful, and—the willingness to offer up half of his bargaining chips makes him more inclined to trust Mace, even if a flicker of wariness still remains. “And the job is?”

Mace doesn’t waver, doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t flinch. “I want you to assassinate the senior senator from Naboo. Sheev Palpatine. He’s a Sith apprentice.”

Of all the things that Jaster was expecting, that most certainly wasn’t among them.

It takes him a long moment to scrape together a coherent response, another still to get the words right. “Apprentice,” he echoes. “Usually, an apprentice follows a master. Who is the Sith Master, then?”

“A scientist and a banker,” Mace says coolly. “Palpatine is the more dangerous target, and a better duelist. I can handle the Master, but the apprentice I would leave to someone more adept at assassinations.”

It would hardly be the first time the Mandalorians have been hired for such a thing, and Jaster is more than willing to do it. Knowing that Mace will be fighting his own battle allays some of Jaster's fears as well, and he leans on one arm of his chair, considering the man.

“A fraught mission,” he says, “on both parts. You have a plan, I assume.”

If anything, Mace looks amused at that. “The Jedi do not plan,” he says, a trace of humor in the words. “I trust the Force to see me through, however. And as I am training Depa, I will have all the time I need to see things through.”

Jedi, Jaster thinks, and doesn’t roll his eyes. Quite. “And would you care to tell me where you got this information, Master Jedi? Particularly about a traitor within the ranks of the True Mandalorians. I must admit that one surprises me.”

Mace is silent for another moment. “From the future,” he finally offers. “I traveled back with the help of a Force nexus. In the time I came from, the True Mandalorians were wiped out, and the Sith won.”

Something cold slides down Jaster's spine, and he rises slowly, comes to his feet to face the Jedi. Mace meets his eyes, holds his gaze, and—

He looks tired, Jaster thinks, calculating, considering. Tired in a bone-deep, weary way that Jaster had managed to miss before, buried as it was by his determination. Traveled back from the future, through time itself, and Jaster didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Not possible for most people, he thinks, watching Mace. And not optimal even for this one.

“Very well,” he says after a long minute of silence. “But on the condition that you stay here and provide your information throughout the mission. I won't have a Sith kill my men because you think you have better things to do.”

The relief that slides over Mace's expression is subtle, but—Jaster catches it easily. “Agreed,” he says. “We will rely on your hospitality, Mand’alor.”

“Jaster, please,” Jaster says, and moves around the end of his desk, taking Mace's arm. Muscled, he thinks, and that’s likely a good sign. Not a useless Jedi, hopefully. Not if he’s certain he can take on a Sith. “I think the use of first names is allowable now that you're my guest.”

“You have a liberal interpretation of guest,” Mace says dryly, but he doesn’t pull away as Jaster leads him out of the office, and Jaster is willing to count it as a win.

[On AO3]

#my writing #jastermace #jaster mereel #mace windu #star wars

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angelkurenai · 3 years

Text

Beautifully reckless - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Beautifully reckless

Pairing: Michael!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: lately i just felt like reading a michael!dean fic, and since you're an amazing writer, I'd love to see you write a one shot/imagine with him. so here you go, reader is sam's and dean's friend who is a psychic, and after michael possesses dean, he starts feeling something for her that he never felt before? just some soft michael!dean, please? i love ur fics, they are truly unique and awesome to read

“Took you long enough, you bastard.”

The voice tone, to some extent, took Michael by surprise, to the point he jumped on the spot. Though he would never admit to that. He was used to respect, well, fear actually and he was used to hearing calculated and careful words. It wasn't like he had not been called that many more times before, but that was mostly in his face, and not behind his back (literally) and in such a tone. Not when everyone around him knew better than to push their luck. The fact that he really wasn't still around the people who used to tremble in fear when he was facing them, or not actually, and that he, Michael himself, wasn't entirely the same person as when he was in the Apocalypse world.

“I- Excuse me?” he couldn't stop the words from leaving his lips before he stopped in his steps and turned around to face the source of the voice that was so bold.

Within barely the span of a minute, he found himself being stunned twice... or maybe thrice, but there was barely any time to duel on that. Not in those first few seconds. Not when the sudden giddiness overwhelmed him and his breath came out shakily, as if somebody had just knocked it out of him. What was it that had just happened to him made him frown but his attention was instantly back on you.

The smile on the face of the person standing before him was not a surprise on it's own, seeing how much the sparkling and warm eyes told him that smiling was not a rare occurrence, but rather the fact that he had not expected such a friendly and caring, if the words were even enough to explain it, smile on your face after the way the words had sounded. Or perhaps it had indeed been all him and there had not been a real threat behind those words. He, after all, still kept forgetting that things had changed drastically.

“Let me guess-” the smile turned into a smirk, the teasing kind, the friendly and familiar kind of teasing he had truthfully never been on the receiving end and that sent him off balance “This is payback for those three weeks I stood you up in a row huh? Fair enough, fair enough. You had the right to not show up today either so I suppose I should be grateful you're here. And we're perfectly timed too.”

“Perfectly timed?” he repeated “I actually-” but before he could get to complete his sentence, he felt a pair of arms wrapping around him in what could clearly and very easily be described as a quick hug. It wasn't the long, tight and longing one he might have expected, probably because it hadn't been long since you had last been in touch, however that was not what he really dueled on at that moment. Not something he could duel on that is, not when he had to stop himself from returning the hug himself.

It was an impulse which he could again easily recognize, and even more easily blame on you. Because you had to be the one to blame, there was no other explanation. There was no other way to describe the way his body had just straight up frozen, not in shock but rather eager no less than a puppy (he could never admit to that) to turn to face you, eager to close the distance and eager to take everything in, whether it be by just getting to look at you or by, hopefully (why really?), getting to have you melt in his arms. Though shockingly enough he found himself doing the latter, feelings his muscles relax and a soft breath leave his lips when you were wrapped around him. It was strange, in a frightening way, and he had to push back all those feelings despite how he realized that it was easier to breathe with you there, without any weight resting on his chest. It was you who was responsible, that was easy to understand. What wasn't easy was the why. Why all of a sudden he felt this way with you?

“Gosh, Winchester-” ah yes, how did he not realize it? He was indeed the reason why and Michael hadn't even given his vessel a second thought, not until your eyes locked with his and his heart skipped a beat or two “I'll be able to see an angel's true form before you ever get rid of the green plaid huh?”

“I-” he looked down at himself, well aware that he hadn't had the chance to change Dean's clothes just yet “Funny enough, it was exactly what I had in mind too. Was actually planning on it.”

“Oh finally ready to dress to impress? Hm I wonder how I will be able to spot you next in the crowd. Was lucky this time I suppose.” you pulled away, playful smile ever present.

His eyes narrowed slightly in a way that must have scared his enemies in the past but that held no real threat this time, and maybe that was the most scary part: that he didn't meant it to be, especially to you “And... what makes you think I was actually heading this way?”

“Oh I see.” you placed your hand on your hips, nodding your head with a growing smirk “Feeling bold today. We haven't seen each other in quiet some time and here you come, ready to take me by surprise. I must warn you, though you already know, so I better say remind you-” you took a step closer to him and although he didn't let it show on his face, well, on Dean's face (or so he hoped) that didn't mean he didn't feel the flutter in his chest and the sudden weakness of his knees “You-” you poked his chest with your pointer and he could swear he felt the skin of his vessel start burning there, as if a fire was there that was only spreading “Would find it hard to surprise me, Dean. Not many people can, it's a tough challenge.”

“Well, you might have just done it there. It's time you finally found the right person because I was never one to say no to a challenge.” he felt his own lips form into a smirk, even though he was unable to believe how much he enjoyed seeing the sparkle of excitement in your eyes. Soon followed by the very familiar playfulness he could grow used to. And why shouldn't he? He had his sword, his perfect vessel, and nobody could take that away. He was in full control over Deans body and you clearly had not realized any difference, because apparently for what it mattered, maybe he was a lot like Dean after all- or at least could be, and that was more than enough.

“Bold of you to assume-” you pulled away and he had to stop himself- his vessel from taking a step forward to still be close with you “That it's a game with only one player. Let's see just how easily surprise you can be, Winchester. Feels like after years of friendship I might still be able to learn something new about you.”

“Then it would only be right to warn you I am not that easily taken by su-”

His words would have certainly held more value and determination, if not a chance at convincing you, if his voice had not wavered and, halfway through the sentence, they hadn't been cut off by a far-from-manly yelp that broke through his lips.

Well, if that wasn't a first. Again.

“Yeah, I get it. I get it. You macho man.” you scoffed, but the smirk on your lips was so playful that it almost made him forget what had just happened. Almost. Or maybe just for the moment, because he was sure he had a lot of thinking to do afterwards and maybe a much-needed conversation with his vessel about it.

“I- I didn't-” he blinked, more stunned with himself for reacting this way than anything else.

“'S alright-” you grinned at him in the end “Just, enough talking. Come on, this is no place for that kind of stuff.” you giggled and he got the impression that this wasn't a first for you, so really he ought to be prepared to be surprised in more ways than he could ever imagine.

“Wha- what a-are you-” it was so unlike him but everything about this situation was unlike anything he'd experienced before, he didn't really know what he should consider a normal reaction at this point.

“Wha- what?” you teased, mimicking him “Cat got your tongue, Winchester? Come on, move your pretty ass before they give our table away if we keep talking here.”

And just because he was such a fool for you already, or perhaps out of some inexplicable fear that your table would indeed be given away and you would have to part ways before he got enough of it, he didn't need to be told twice. He followed after you no better than a lost puppy, even if he'd deny it for the rest of his existence, not paying an ounce of attention as he should to the rest of his surroundings. And so, he didn't know what should alarm him more out of the two. The fact that it was easy to let go and relax so easily around you or the fact that he couldn't bring himself to be too far away from you.

Michael was confused. And whenever he was confused, as with anything in his entire existence ever since he was in heaven, he was intrigued. And whenever he was intrigued, he followed the one that interested him. Admittedly it had been centuries, if not ever before in his life, since the one to interest him in this way had been a person, and no less a woman like you.

“Feels like forever, doesn't it?” you breathed out as you both settled into your seats “I shouldn't tell you this but gosh... You're making me so sentimental and weak, Winchester, I'll have to change that somehow. But I have no idea how you do it in the first place, so...” you huffed with, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Good to know.” the easy smile on his lips felt both like his own and not “So I have to keep it up then.” and when he realized he too too much pleasure in your being playful with him, rolling your eyes, he didn't feel like questioning whose pleasure it was.

Your lips parted, and truth was he would have loved nothing more than to hear you tease him again, but he was also thankful for the interruption from the waitress and the moment of silence that followed afterwards, because at least then he had some time to gather his own thoughts, replay any moments that should have struck more than how beautiful your smile was or the way you looked at him.

Well, not him, Dean. But maybe-

“You said...” he started just as you'd given your orders, though he had barely cared about that when the thought crossed his mind “See an angel's true form?”

“Wha- Oh that.” you laughed, shaking your head “I'm not even close to that yet, I'm afraid. Not as much as I'd like but that's only because you're to blame, Winchester. I'm being as careful as I can so as expected things are going slow.”

“You've been... trying?” the confusion, if not the worry, was evident on his face much as he tried to hide it.

“If you say one more time that us psychics are too curious for our own good then I will kick you.” you said and proceeded to do just that under the table with your foot, managing to earn a small groan followed by a warm laugh from Dean.

“You said if. But I didn't say a damn thing!” he protested, still laughing and enjoying (far too much) the innocent shrug you gave him.

“Just taking precautions.” you grinned before you paused for a second too long and looked back up at him again with a softer smile, if he could even call it that, because it didn't reach your eyes not the way it should as he had observed the past couple minutes “I just...” you let a soft sigh “I'm sorry. I've- I know I've made you worry far too many times in the past. Scared you even. And well, you're no better sure, but I'm supposed to be the friend who has the functioning brain cells here and I haven't really lived up to that. I know-” another sigh and he was really starting to feel bothered by how much this seemed to stress you out, more than it stressed him out to keep up the act “I know how much you worry you. I really do. So I promise, even if it's hard for me, that I will hold back if I see things getting out of hand and I'm in danger again.”

The words rang in his ears louder than actual sirens ever could.

“Again?” he repeated with a raised eyebrow. He knew he probably looking more accusing than concerned, if not what he felt even more deep down: terrified. And he didn't even know what was more alarming anymore. The way his heart squeezed inside his chest or his palms clenched in order for his body to cope with the fact that his blood had ran cold and the shivers were far too unpleasant.

He didn't like it, he didn't like it one bit and he knew something had to be done about it.

“Figure of speech, I promise. There haven't been any close calls. At least- You know, ever since we last saw each other that is. But that too has been quiet some time. Speaking of which-” the smile returned on your lips and he had almost not realized it was not there until he understood how the uneasiness in his chest was also due to how you looked so distraught “How have things been for you hm? I haven't the slightest idea about what my two idiots have been up to lately. Is Sam alright?”

“Well, he's been... keeping busy, to say the least. Same goes for me. I wouldn't even know where to begin. Think of it as... a multiverse of madness being out there that needs the Winchesters to deal with.” he forced a small smile on his lips but he barely felt it to begin with, even if you were trying to stir the conversation away from any dangerous endeavors you might's recently had. And, truth be told, he couldn't even begin to think of all the times you might've gotten in trouble that weren't because of your own actions. The mere realization of that fact brought another unpleasant shiver down his spine.

“Ah, makes sense. We've been meeting up in this place at least once every week. 'S good though, I suppose, to take a break once in a while.” you gave a soft shrug, resting your chin on your palm and looked at him through your lashes “I am afraid we were both turning into two very sentimental fools, after all. Coming here, in the place we first met, after all these years.” a small laugh escaped your lips but he could hear the nervousness behind it, see how shy you were about it and deep down he loved seeing this side of you as well, if not wonder what else he could possibly do to evoke it “What are we anyway?”

The question did something to him and he soon realized it wasn't really him, but Dean. He couldn't always tell the difference, what with the Winchester being his perfect vessel, but in that moment he could, crystal clear. And once again it piqued his interest.

“Well, I don't know about you but I for one-” he paused to look into your eyes, to try and read some sort of emotion on your eyes that he might miss otherwise “Don't think I mind so much. Hell, I'll take pride in being always a fool for you.”

To see the way your eyes widened and your back straightened in surprise. Surprise that the words were said out loud or that they were said and were straight to the point, he couldn't tell. What he could tell was that you were not used to this and it was a good thing because things were changing and in a way this should too.

“Ah Dean, whatever happened to you these past months?” you looked away from him when you snapped out of the shock you were in, not that the small forced laugh was any indicator but the fact that you still felt stunned if not shy. You shook your head “Have some mercy on my poor heart, will you? Don't say things like that so carelessly.”

“I'm not being careless. If anything... I'm being honest.” and doing an incredible job at not showing how much that scares me but he couldn't really say that out loud and he knew “Besides, you were the one who started it.”

“Well, yes but actually no. This is what we do, Dean, you can't just go and- and be so... open about it. We-” a nervous laugh that he found too adorable for his poor heart's sake, well Dean's actually but it felt all the same at that moment “What was it that Sam called it? Uh yes, we're both too emotionally constipated to function like proper humans.”

“We don't talk about it remember?” you added in almost a whisper voice, making Michael wonder what was really there more than your playful banter and the way his vessel's heart couldn't rest for a minute “Besides, I know you're not as cool about it as you'd like to think. I can see it all over your face, so stop pretending Winchester.” you huffed, leaning back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest, and he realized maybe he had underestimated you.

“And that is supposed to mean... what exactly?” he couldn't help the edge his voice took, too many years, centuries that felt an eternity, had taken their toll on him.

“Well, many things actually. But what matters most right now is one...” you tilted your head to the side, a soft expression on your face which stunned him momentarily “There's something on your mind.” it was a statement the left no room for debate “Wanna talk about it?”

The mere sincerity and care in your words were too much to believe in this entirely unprecedented event, and so it was no surprise when the words got stuck in his throat and his mind went entirely bank. Despite the lump that was stuck in his throat, despite how hard it was to swallow it over, the words in the very end formed before he could even comprehend it. And they were some of the most honest ones he'd spoke in a long time “Do I?” he questioned, mostly himself without any expectations for an answer “Funny...”

“What's funny about it?” naturally, though, you didn't hold back. It was clear that no matter how well you could read him, no matter how he was an open book to you, you wanted to know more of him. But which him was the real question.

Michael couldn't even remember when it was the last time that someone cared to know about him. Him, and not whoever had granted him access to wear around. Him, and not whatever face he had. Him, and how he felt. Him, and how he he thought. Him, and why he had done everything he did, what had led him to it and how he felt about it. It was a scary thought and feeling. Scary to hope there could be someone that would look past all of those layers, all that the eyes could see, and try to understand him. Scary that he wanted it, even more. Scary that after all this time, at the most tumultuous time and as he was in the right path to his goals, he felt the need for something so deep. Scary that it could lead him away from said path.

Who was even that reckless to try any of it though? Who could so carelessly approach him and-

“Nothing.” the question answered itself “It's just amusing how... strange it sounds to hear someone ask me if I wanna talk about what troubles me, after all this time. But-” he said as fast as he could, the second he saw you frown in worry “We have plenty of time to talk about that and I promise we will. Later. For now-” he grinned, leaning back in his seat “Seeing an angel's true form huh? That's quiet reckless, you know. If not stupid and careless...”

“Yeah, I know, I was just throwing out the idea that I might-”

“But also fun.” he added before you could get to complete your sentence, enjoying the way that after your frown a smile light up your face once he added with a smirk “Want any help with that?”

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural one shot #supernatural x reader #dean #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean one shot #dean winchester one shot #michael!dean #michael!dean imagine #michael!dean x reader

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

gladiator jk?? 🤭🗡

I’ve written quite a few historicals, but never in the Rome era or quite as far back. So please excuse the historical inaccuracies and all that. I did my best to do a half hour crash course on it.

↳ Spare and Surrender

2.5k || 50% Fluff, 50% Angst || Jeon Jungkook || Gladiator!AU

Jungkook is a star.

He’s won eight games — five against wild beasts and three against other gladiators where he killed two and maimed the other. The entire Colosseum always cheers when he enters. He knows he’s become a favourite, that there are those who bet their life savings on him, and most importantly, he always wins.

The fact that he’s alive is enough proof.

But in spite of the horrors he’s had to face, of the lives he’s had to take, Jungkook still likes it. They give him a place to sleep, three delicious meals a day, and baths and massages whenever he wants. Jungkook is good at what he does too. He isn’t like those elite men from the senate who rigged the fights in their favour and perform simply for their own amusement. The scars on his body are the evidence of his strength and true victories. Jungkook is talented. He was one of the best during training, heard endless praise and even now the roars of the people make him feel alive. Even when asked if he wanted to be free, he refused. Jungkook bleeds competitiveness and the games have become his reason to live.

Today, the crowd is cheering again. But it’s not for him.

“Who’s up there?” he asks a fellow fighter, Darius.

“The new one. You haven’t heard of him?”

The two of them climb the steps, candle fire illuminating their figures and casting their shadows against the underground stone walls.

“They call him the Mouse Dragon.”

Jungkook frowns. “Why?”

“Because he’s as tiny as a mouse, but as fierce and swift as a dragon.” The clamour of the crowds become louder the closer they get to the center. There’s light from the end of the tunnel closest to Jungkook and curiosity makes him go closer. “He’s already won five games, Jeon. He might take your place soon.”

Darius nudges him with a small grin. But Jungkook doesn’t take it lightly.

He follows the light and peeks out of the barred tunnel to see you.

You’re in amber armour, silver dagger in hand as you encircle a wounded bear. It growls, leaps forward at the speed of light, but you don’t evade. You lurch forward and before the animal’s sharp teeth can rip into your skin, the dagger pierces into the side of its throat.

The bear roars in pain and you dig the blade into it before pulling out to pierce it again.

Finally, the large creature drops dead at your feet. The crowd bursts into wild howls and screams. It’s deafening.

Jungkook slinks back into the shadows.

He doesn’t know how he remained so ignorant as to not know you, to not know a fellow gladiator who won so many games. Granted, your number of victories is far from his, but it’s still notable especially when most gladiators died in their first games and few made it past ten. Jungkook plans on making it there. But at this rate, you might as well. And there was no room for two stars. Not when fame was fickle and he planned to become the most famous.

He allowed his arrogance to blind him for long enough. It’s time to make himself known to you, to show you what a real gladiator is and let you know your place.

Jungkook returns underground, darting past the many fighters preparing for their own matches. He brushes past the guards and trainers, ignoring the cry of the animals kept in their cages.

Down here, there was its own chaos. Chaos that is kept from the eyes of the public.

But when he gets to the place where survivors usually recover and collect themselves, the hall is empty and much quieter. The noise of the Colosseum is merely muffled faintly above him.

Jungkook whips back the curtain of the first room, but it’s empty. He turns on his heel, calms down his temper and glances through the gaps of the curtains, searching for you. He sees no one in the second room and no one in the third.

He’s about to relent and look for you on the training grounds later on. But at the fourth room, Jungkook’s vision unintentionally trails through the small space between the curtain and the wall.

His eyes grow wide as it lands on you. Unraveling your chest bindings.

You look up on instinct. Your pupils connect with his doe, brown eyes. A gasp rips from your throat.

But by then, he’s gone. Like a ghost or the smoke of a flame.

Jungkook strides back from where he came from, feet moving quickly. He’s in disbelief, utter confusion—

And a hand wraps around his wrist. In an instant, Jungkook’s yanked into one of the rooms.

You’re panting, chest rising and falling as you hold your bindings to your breasts.

His eyes weren’t wrong. “You’re a woman.”

“And you’re Jungkook.”

He blinks. “You know me?”

“Who doesn’t?” You slip the worn tunic on, and Jungkook realizes how small you really are. Up close, your neck is slim and your wrists small. But unlike the others, he knows it’s not because you’re a tiny, frail man. You’re a woman. “I’ve watched your games before.”

“Why are you here?”

“Why are any of us here?” You face him, gaze intense and fierce without once wavering. He can’t be threatened. Not when he’s Jungkook, someone who’s quickly becoming one of the strongest gladiators of Rome. Yet for some reason, he’s held in his spot because of you. “I was a slave and was going to be sold as a prostitute.”

“So you pretended to be a man and train as a gladiator.”

“At least I can win enough prize earnings to pay for my freedom. Or I can die. Either way, it’s better than what was in store for me.”

Jungkook’s taken aback by the determination ablaze in your eyes, by the strength and conviction in your voice. “There are female gladiators, you don’t need to hide yourself.”

“If they knew I was a woman, they’d want me to expose my breasts and fight and no one would take me seriously.” You hiss at him like he knows nothing, “What kind of prize earnings would I get then if they’re pitting me against dwarves for their own amusement.”

Jungkook looks at you — he really looks at you. Beyond a fighter in the Colosseum, beyond a fellow competitor, beyond a heroic gladiator who garners cheers.

He feels foolish.

Small-minded. Short-sighted.

His intentions of intimidation and putting you in your place has long vanished. You and him are so different. He can’t compare to you.

You don’t fight for sport. You fight to escape.

“Don’t tell anyone.” You soften. “I hate owing others, but please. I beg of you. Let me be.”

“I was a slave too.” In the farthest confines of his mind, Jungkook still hears the screaming, the burning city, Romans taking him in the midst of their conquests. And the others. The difference between him and them was that he was stronger. He survived. But he almost let himself forget. “If you made it this far, it means you’re strong as well. I have no business in revealing your secret.”

Jungkook had almost forgotten what life outside the Colosseum meant. He almost forgot the thirst to survive. To live on without needing to fight another day.

But as he looks at you, the memories return. It makes him feel sickly. He pushes them away.

“But for a price.”

The relief on your expression washes away just as quickly as it came. “What price?”

“Tell me your name. Your real name.”

You hesitate before the secret tumbles from your lips. “It’s Y/N.”

...

Jungkook sees you again in the training barracks. Now that your face isn’t simply one amongst the crowd, blurring together with the men, now that he can pick you out by just the back of your head, he often joins you. Whether it be pity or curiosity, he isn’t quite sure yet. But he speaks to you when he has the chance, invites you to sit and eat at the table with him much to the confusion of fellow gladiators, and he trains with you during the day.

He can tell you’re not fond of his attention as it garners the attention of the other men. After all, Jungkook doesn’t often associate himself with fellow fighters and certainly not those that are supposedly lower than he is. But he can also tell that you like his training help.

“Stab, don’t slash.”

“I know that.”

“But you’re still doing it.”

“I survived this far without your help, Jungkook.”

“And you’re going to need my help if you want to keep surviving and earn your way to freedom.”

The corner of his mouth tugs when you’re rendered to silence.

But you’re not the only one to gain from the relationship. Jungkook enjoys sparring with you. He likes it when your sword clashes against his, when your shields are struck. You’re a formidable competitor. While he is sturdy, swift and strong, you are agile and dexterous. He is especially impressed when you tumble away from him like your bones have turned to air.

Jungkook has always liked his women elegant with intelligent eyes, dressed in beautiful clothes that drift through the breeze. You, on the other hand, are rough when you wield weapons. Your words can be crude and he’s never once seen you in finery. Yet, he is absolutely stricken with you.

And maybe that’s why he feels a need to protect you through the fight—

“The Mouse Dragon! The Unstoppable Beast!”

The crowd goes wild as you both enter the Colosseum together. The nicknames given to the two of you are absurd, but Jungkook still feels pride that he’s famed enough to be named.

It was posted earlier today that you’d be fighting together against an exotic animal from the west. A creature with a large trunk, two tusks and whose height towers him twice over.

Perhaps the trainers saw how close he was becoming with you. Maybe the rumours began to take that he was your mentor and you were going to become the next bold gladiator. Either way, you were put together.

Jungkook looks to you and the both of you nod, preparing your stances as the animal is released from its confines. It cries out and decides to trample towards you.

The game lasts ten minutes. It always does and it’s the longest ten minutes he knows.

Jungkook is reckless this time. More than what he is used to.

“You don’t need to protect me—” you spit at him, standing shoulder to shoulder, catching your breaths.

He knows, but he can’t help it. “Who says I am?”

Jungkook strikes when he should be holding up his shield. He surges forward before you can. And he’s clearly more worn than you are. But it’s not for the cheers, not for the crowd to chant his name, and he isn’t trying to steal the spotlight from you.

You narrow your eyes in on him. “I can handle it on my own.”

You do.

The creature becomes wounded from your stabs and blood splatters across your face. But in the moment of the animal’s death, it wails out and leans on its hind legs with its last effort. From the force, you’re thrown to the ground. About to be trampled. About to be crushed.

Yet before it can come down, before you can brace yourself — Jungkook digs his entire sword through its side.

The animal falls over. The dust is awakened into a cloud.

The crowd screams all around you and your gaze meets Jungkook’s, knowing he saved your life.

The game is something to remember. So much so that a close trainer, Marcus Namjoon, whispers that the next time the two of you will have to fight a more ferocious beast. The lion.

“How will you manage?” he asks you that same night as you’re seated on the wooden steps.

“I’ll just have to or I’ll die.” The corner of your mouth curls as the light of the stars glow against your face and makes you look like a goddess. Jungkook is sure you must be the child of Ares and Aphrodite. “May the best warrior survive.”

His hand crumples into a fist. He tears his eyes away from your magnificence.

Sooner or later, you will win your freedom or sooner or later, you will die. Or worse. Jungkook knows how the games go. He’s been here for years and he knows why these matches exist. It’s all to distract the public of more important matters and if something happens, if a big enough distraction is needed, sooner or later, Jungkook will be pitted against you.

Then, he will have to kill you or at least maim you. Or he will have to be your sacrifice.

“Take this.”

He drops a leather pouch into your lap and looks away.

It’s heavy and you tug the strings. A gasp pulls on your lips. Gold and silver gleams back at you.

“Jungkook…”

“It’s all of my earnings I’ve saved so far. With what you have, together it should be enough to buy your freedom.” It becomes silent and he lets the peace of the night settle into him.

“Why?”

“Because you desire freedom more than I have ever desired anything.” That might be a lie. There is one thing Jungkook desires most that could possibly contend — and he’s looking at it. Looking at you. “If there’s anyone who deserves this, it’s you. I would not regret it if this is where my earnings went.”

“W-What about the fight?”

“I’ll have a better chance than you do.”

“Jungkook.”

You take his face within your hands to kiss him. He feels your soft lips and in spite of being a warrior, your body is even softer. You feel feminine under his touch and as he years for more, he grabs a hold of your waist and pulls you flush against him. Jungkook inhales your yelp, your tongues sloppy against one another.

A hunger from inside him awakens. Jungkook wants to have you right here, right now. But you part from him, catching your breath.

Under the stars, Jungkook has become entirely enraptured by you.

“I’ll work.” You make an oath to him. “I’ll save enough to free you.”

Jungkook’s never thought of leaving before. Even as a distinguished warrior, when he had been asked if he wanted to be granted freedom, he refused. He likes it here. There’s a roof over his head, he gets three meals and gains attention and fame that he could never get on his own.

Yet, you are a bigger reason than all other reasons.

He has never desired anything more than being with you.

A smile tugs on his lips. “It’s a promise I’ll hold you to then.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook reader insert #bts reader insert #jungkook x reader #Anonymous #Jimlings #LET'S GOOOO

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gojoho · 3 years

Text

MERCY

• pairing; toji fushiguro x reader [ nsfw ]

• premise; it’s the same dance with him, a shameless game of cat and mouse in which he always win but maybe losing is equally as rewarding.

• words; 2078

• note & warning; i’m back with some toji content, he’s just been in my mind a little to long for me not the write about him. some warnings for this one is public, unprotected ( wrap it and then tap it folks ) sex, with the usual grammatical errors—I swear I try to proof read ya’ll but they just manage to find a way to stay in there. i am slowly but surely getting my mojo back.

Old habits die hard; it's easier to hate each other that way. Labeling whatever that was manifesting between the two of you as that, a bad habit. A dirty secret only an onyx sky could appreciate enough to hide. Perhaps that's what kept it alive and kicking, midnight turmoil, where even the most terrible of bad ideas are more seductive.

Though it's debatable if the alcohol left you unhinged, mindless, and bold. What other excuse did you have for allowing the bastard to enter your domain? There was no shame from the thinking without a conscience, but with the pounding music and pulsing lights, you weren't sure there was even space to think. He held a brazen stare all evening, keen to every move you made.

A man's attention was never anything to sneeze at, but when it was a straggler like Toji Fushiguro, it was intoxicating. And more than the liquor, everything seemed to be within reach under his spotlight. He held his distance, clung to the darkness, yet with such an adamant gaze he could have been right there beside you. At least, that's how you imagined it but the game wasn't that easy.

He'd stay in his dark corner, not quite able to step closer until you were ready. Until the heat underneath your skin became unbearable, leaving you an aching mess. That made it easier to devour you. Whether it meant burying his head between your thighs or hooking his arms around your waist and keeping you open. Or bottomed out inside you, mouth feasting on your chest.

The club was full, Friday night packed but it would work in your favor. You knew none of the songs, not that it mattered, it was mere fuel to your movements. A nice accessory to the sway of your hips, to suggestive temptation behind them.

It wasn't worth looking in his direction; he was always watching. At that thought alone, your clothes become a nuisance. A means to an end, that would start with him. Toji was a patient man but knew that patience didn't extend to everyone, you in particular. He was a tease, and as your dress inclined it almost felt as if he'd been the one to hike it up.

A sensation too similar to his hands moving over your bare thighs, ready to pry them open. His smug chuckle was right there feeding your imagination, and as one song faded into the next, there wasn't a spot on your body that hadn't been kissed in theory. With one thought, you were drooling over a man less than ten feet away, fantasizing about all the ways he could take you. It was more of a headache than it seems, and as the pace of the songs picks up, the conscience returns. Whilst you make your way back to the bar. You'd need a little more liquid luck to get through the rest of the night.

“That was quite a show.”

“Didn’t know I had an audience.” What else could you have done but tell a bald-faced lie? Telling him the truth didn't do anyone any good. How you envision him fucking you in the middle of the dance floor.

“Could’ve fooled me." The bar was located farther away from the DJ and next to the restrooms. The quieter end of the venue, but you're sure you'd have heard his smirk regardless.

After all this time, it's only then that you turn to him.“What are you doing here Fushiguro?”

Big mistake, ten feet away he looked the same as when you last saw him, but up close and personal, some details that had escaped memory came back to haunt you.

“Would you believe me if I told you, I’m here to see you?”

Yeah right, “Not in the slightest.”

“It’s true for the most part, had a job in the area and thought I’d pop in do some sightseeing." He shifted his weight back to the counter, his elbows well-rested on either side.

“Well you came and you saw.”

“On the contrary,” he said. The double meaning has turned your cheeks crimson, and you're thankful for the red lights underneath the counter. “Cute dress.”

Images from moments before gloss over your eyes, heating every part of your body. They burned a path down your chest before settling below your hips. “Seriously Fushiguro what do you want? You made it pretty clear we both want different things the last time you popped in.”

“Things are different.” Sincere wasn't the word you or anyone else would use to describe the guy, but his demeanor defied all expectations. He seemed to be a completely different person.

“Yeah, they are,” you mumbled, tossing back a shot you managed to order before his interruption.

“Look," he started and turned to face you. Face inches from yours, his scent enveloping both of you. "I tried the settling down thing and it doesn’t work with my kind of lifestyle.”

It wasn't the words you wanted to hear, but you probably wouldn't have had them anyway. Wishful thinking, “Then that’s clears things up doesn’t it?” Toji Fushiguro didn’t do apologies, much like he didn’t do commitment, and even as he called after you, that would never change. Something you wish your body would recognize, no matter how much it longed for him.

The corridor to the restrooms was too quiet for him being that close to you...too intimate. In the quick second you had turned you back to him, ready to sober up and head home, he’d already been behind you. Pushing you up against the wall in the far corner, his arms barricading you in.

“You’re quite stubborn, you know that.” His voice was low, quiet all to maintain the secrecy veiled in the darkness.

“Thanks, I’ll be sure to add it to my resume.” You witted, going to duck around him but he was quick and with a step forward his hips pushed yours in back place.

“Will you just listen,” he pleaded. Not that you had much of a choice, but he took your silence as obedience. “I won’t make excuses, I’m a shitty guy but it’s gotten me this far. You won’t get the white picket fence with me. That’s not who I am.”

It was true, he was a shitty person. One minute here and the next gone with the wind. All with impeccable timing, usually around when he’d finish fucking you senseless. Truthfully it wasn’t something too much of a problem, it was better if he had his life and you with your own. Though you supposed between the kisses, and that final thrust that brought you both over the edge left some vulnerability.

“If I’m stubborn, then you’re quite dense. I never asked for that Toji. I was fine with the wild sex but was a little conversation too much to ask? You’ve got baggage, newsflash so do I, but you’d think we’d handle it like two grown adults. You’ve always been on the move, please, slow down every once in a while.”

The silence is deafening, louder than the upbeat track in the distance. You were irritated, angry, and, to make it worse, aroused. What else did he expect from you but a meltdown? As he moved his head to your back, he lowered his arms, allowing them to ghost your waist. “I'm sorry,” he said softly, kissing it.

In retrospect, you should have jumped for joy, climbed to the top of the bar, and screamed at the top of your lungs like a lunatic, but you didn't. You didn't want to abandon his embrace at that moment; he had really changed.

The kiss in trial is slow and tender, responsive to not only the worries but any emotion in between. Everything you didn't think he was capable of and all rage bleeds into desire. Each of you starved and desperate to find a fill.

The stiffness of his pants condemned his hold, which found its power over your hips. You want to propose that he return the excitement to your place or whatever hotel he was staying in, but he broke the kiss to turn you around. His patience had reached its maximum for the night.

“Wait for a second,” you mumbled out. A slight moan slipped through feeling his erection firm and strong against your rear. The ends of your dress taunted by his fingertips liked how you pictured them too. “Sorry princess, no can do.”

It’s almost impressive how quickly he lifts your dress and slipping a finger past your thong. But should anyone know your body in grave detail it was him. There’s a ceremonial cheer from the crowd as the DJ lets the beat drop, Toji’s opportune moment of intrusion. Your own cry, not one in interest to the music but the long slender finger to part your folds.

“I’ve waited all night to get my hands on you,” he mumbled out, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

“Toji—”

“I’ll be quick, just the way you like it.”

It’s in your best interest to stop him there, keeping private matters just that, you should stop him...should.

“Fuck…quickly.” you cursed out in compliance. There’s a smirk on his face, you know it. Sure he’s different, but some things never change.

In the second he pulled his finger away, you whimper half expecting for it to slip back in, maybe even with a partner but a casual Friday night turns into Christmas.

“I'll take my time with you later, right now—” he started face pressed into the back of your shoulder. “I just need to be inside you.”

First was the tip of his cock, a feeble tickle before the rest of his inches followed. Stretching you full, slipping deep into your heat. Coaxing the ache that was for him, letting the world see just how easily your body welcomed his own. Yet, it was hard to care about the rest of the world when your own revolved around everything below your hips.

He gripped them tightly, anchoring you there at the hilt with a slow sure thrust before looping a hand to your front. Twisting the nerves in time with his sudden thrust. Quick like he said, but still slow enough to feel him move inside you. In and out, then over again. The excitement of having him there indulging with your body, and the anxiety of getting caught clashed. Making you even more aware of your walls around him, but in his muffled moans there are words of encouragement. Sweet nothings that make your arousal fierce, sexy, and less wrong.

“Don't stop, ” you say a little too loud for doing something taboo but you don't care, “Don't fucking stop.”

The million and one fantasy that flooded your mind on the dancefloor spirals, winding with the moment and coiled in an untamed void. Ready to snap at those trying to control it. And there, shrouded in the thin veil of privacy Toji picks up his pace, teasing it with each stroke until finally, it shudders through. Coming in waves, meeting your peek every time he pushed forward. Bolting down your legs the more sloppy and anxious his hips became.

“Fuck, ” he grunts hands shooting to your chest. Pulling you closer to him, eating up your moans with his.

Almost feral with the way he continued despite his cock’s twitches, he wasn't nearly satisfied but that was a mess neither of you was capable of cleaning up at the moment. Regrettably, you push back on his rhythm stopping it completely. Snapping him from the haze.

“We should go, ” you whisper out on his lips. Which he can only grunt back in response to, hesitant to slip from your warmth.

His hands are glued to your body, unable to null all contact as you tugged your dress back down or as he tucks himself back into his pants. You'd ask whether it was back to your place or his but the languid look on his face as the two of you shamelessly stepped into the light made it fruitful. It didn't matter where the two of you went, he'd have you crying for mercy.

#jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader smut #gojoho

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 28 - ao3 -

The answer, it turned out, was paint.

It wasn’t an answer that Lan Qiren would have anticipated in any way, shape, or form. He had been under the impression, as had Lao Nie, that Wen Ruohan had stopped painting long ago. After some teasing by Lao Nie, the man had even off-handedly confirmed it at a private dinner they’d shared at a discussion conference – there had been more than usual planned in this past year, accounting for the fact that all of the Great Sect sect leaders (except Wen Ruohan) were unusually young, and therefore active. And although no one acknowledged it as a reason, everyone knew that it was also meant to help calm the concerns of the smaller sects regarding the chaos in their Great Sect leaders’ personal lives, between Jiang Fengmian losing his servant to his beloved or possibly the other way around, Lao Nie’s extremely bizarre marriage situation, and Lan Qiren stepping up unexpectedly to the position of sect leader on account of his brother’s retreat from the world.

According to Wen Ruohan, it hadn’t been anything in particular that had made him stop painting, only a lack of time and then of interest; there had been a severe crisis some time ago, long before either of them were born, and he had been obligated to devote himself exclusively to those affairs for an extended period of time. When he had finally resurfaced, years later, he had returned and found an old painting sitting there half-finished, and staring at it, realized that he was no longer the same man who had begun it.

He had never painted again.

Lan Qiren was unsure if this was a real story or not – Wen Ruohan, he had learned, seemed to consider the truth about his past to be little more than a gentleman’s agreement between friends – as it seemed to be an especially pointed reminder aimed at Lan Qiren’s situation in particular.

Lao Nie had certainly taken it as such, throwing in his own concerns about Lan Qiren’s work schedule, and when even Cangse Sanren had joined the growing mob of all the rest of his friends, Lan Qiren had finally, if reluctantly, agreed to defer to their concern. He’d finally taken a step back and reorganized his duties as sect leader, standing his ground against the elders and insisting on having more time to devote to his own interests, including those outside of his work as a teacher – music, study, quiet contemplation, even maintaining his training with the sword, despite the fact that he would never match his brother as a sword cultivator.

It had, in fact, made him a better sect leader, less prone to working until he burned out, and he was grateful to his friends for their wisdom and steadfastness in the face of his stubborn grief.

At any rate, though, Wen Ruohan was no longer the painter he had been in his youth, and the hints of burning that marked all such paintings that Lan Qiren had seen suggested that the transition had been an unpleasant one for him. It was a surprise, therefore, to receive, as a gift from the Nightless City, a painting in that immediately recognizable hand which was so freshly made that Lan Qiren imagined he could still smell the grinding ink.

The painting depicted a dragon amidst a misty bamboo forest, its massive coils interwoven throughout the bamboo until it appeared almost part of the earth from which they sprung, or alternatively that speared through from above by a rain of spears; in its claw it held a beauteous dragon pearl, shining bright against the dark haze that surrounded the rest of the painting, and its eyes were fixed upon it as if it had forgotten all else.

The pearl, Lan Qiren presumed, was himself, given Wen Ruohan’s fondness for comparing him to one, which Lan Qiren still did not entirely understand – while he knew it was a sign of Wen Ruohan’s appreciation for him, and an indication that he treasured him, he thought that the particular choice in the type of precious stone was likely to be due to the fact Lan Qiren largely preferred white and grey and silver for his clothing.

(Privately, he had determined that one day, out of sheer spite, he would wear an outfit primarily composed of blue for no other reason than to give the other man a shock; he just hadn’t found a reason yet to justify the expense of having such clothing made when he would only use it the once.)

Similarly, the dragon was the symbol of imperial might, of overweening power and influence and even arrogance; naturally that would be Wen Ruohan himself. But as for the rest of it – the lonely but beautiful bamboo forest, often associated with moral integrity and loyalty, yet juxtaposed in this painting as piercing spears, penetrating the dragon’s hide as if attacking him – the dark mist that seemed to envelop the dragon, held at abeyance only through the light of its pearl –

Lan Qiren did not understand.

There were too many meanings possible, and he did not know how to differentiate between those that were there and those he only wanted to read into it. There was nothing for it, but that he would need to ask the artist himself what was meant.

When, as expected, an invitation came a few days later, requesting that Lan Qiren visit the Nightless City in his capacity as Wen Ruohan’s sworn brother, Lan Qiren accepted.

There were all the necessary pleasantries when he arrived, of course. No longer could he just slip in through the back door, a younger brother come to leech off some resources from an elder; he was the Lan sect leader, and that came with certain obligations even on a casual visit. There were a few formal procedures, and then dinner with Wen Ruohan and his wives, with whom his dynamics had completely reversed – Madame Wen had thawed towards Lan Qiren on account of his new position as sect leader, which guaranteed that he would never be able to move to the Nightless City and thereby obstruct her personal power, while the new concubine, former maid, seemed to think that his involvement in her ascension to the position she now held was a matter of embarrassment, resulting in her wanting to snub him whenever possible.

Wen Ruohan largely ignored their antics, his eyes fixed on Lan Qiren throughout their meal, and afterwards, he had finally dismissed them all and taken Lan Qiren back to the small study he preferred to use for their time together.

“The painting you sent was lovely,” Lan Qiren said, playing a little with the cup of tea that was warm and aromatic in his hands. “You have lost none of your skill.”

“I rebuilt it,” Wen Ruohan corrected, looking amused. “You ought to have seen the first few efforts; I think I wasted enough paper to feed a small family for a year.”

Lan Qiren smiled at the thought. He could scarcely imagine Wen Ruohan struggling the way he described, making an effort and finding his ability wanting; still less could he have once imagined Wen Ruohan having admitted to that fact in front of another.

It was a little like what Lao Nie had said, that between the two of them they were excavating the residual humanity left in Wen Ruohan, slowly and methodically moving aside stone and dirt in order to find the treasures lurking beneath.

“I like it even more, then,” he said, and decided to be a little bit bold. “I like knowing that you thought of me for as long as it took you to make it.”

Wen Ruohan’s eyes curved in delight. “You need not be concerned on that score,” he said, his voice still calm and unhurried as always. “You are not so easily expelled from my thoughts, now that you have entered them…ah, little Lan, little Lan, you make me impatient! I had made plans on how to broach the subject with you, and yet now that you are here, I find myself rushing forward, intent to get to the point like some savage Nie.”

A savage Nie of whom he was exceedingly fond, he did not say, and Lan Qiren managed not to roll his eyes at him.

Instead, Lan Qiren put down his cup and folded his hands in his lap. “Don’t hesitate on my behalf,” he said, then added, a little dryly, “I’ve had enough indirect statements to last a lifetime.”

“Welcome to politics,” Wen Ruohan responded, just as dry, but his smile faded and his expression grew more intense; he stood and came closer to Lan Qiren, looking down at him for a long moment before taking a seat beside him. “Qiren, why are you here?”

Lan Qiren blinked, a little confused by the question, but before he could put together an answer, Wen Ruohan continued. “You are sincere and true to yourself; you follow your sect’s rules because you believe in them whole-heartedly and wish to live up to their strictures. Yet do they not say Do not associate with evil?”

“I don’t think you’re evil,” Lan Qiren said. “I think we disagree on what actions constitute evil, on what divides good from evil, and that you are more comfortable walking closely along that line than I. I think that there will be many times in the future where we disagree once again on what is or is not the straight path, and what is the crooked, but – fundamentally, I don’t think you’re evil.”

He considered the question for another moment longer, then added: “And if you were, what is there to do about it? You’re still my sworn brother, bound by oath and blood, and that makes you my responsibility whether I like it or not. Even if you were evil, the only thing that would be left for me to do would be to try my best to lead you out of the dark and back to the light.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him again. His red eyes were narrowed a little, his gaze as intense as it had been when Lan Qiren had been little more than a child, although experience had made it a little less overwhelming.

“You know that I see you as a pearl in the palm of my hand,” Wen Ruohan finally said. His voice was low and intimate, and Lan Qiren shivered to hear it. “A treasure I never expected to find, a gem of such surpassing purity that I fear it will burn me to dare profane it with my touch. Time is eternal; the pearl flows, the jade turns, and yet I remain, walking my crooked path and you your straight broad bridge, shining with righteousness. I see you and yearn for you both day and night, and even in my dreams…”

He reached out and put his hand on Lan Qiren’s. “I would have you be mine, if you would have the same.”

No hollowed-out puppets soon to be discarded here, Lan Qiren thought nonsensically, and swallowed.

“I am yours,” he said carefully, pronouncing each syllable at a time. He had to get this right, he thought, and he would only ever have this one singular chance to do so, or else he’d lose something as bright and shining as the pearl Wen Ruohan was always comparing him to. “I am your sworn brother, as you are mine; I will always be yours.”

“I know,” Wen Ruohan said, and it seemed for once that Lan Qiren had expressed himself clearly rather than muddling it up: he hadn’t misunderstood him into thinking that what Lan Qiren had said was a rejection. “If I were not one of those evil men that your rules warn you against, I would find it in myself to be content with that. But I am, and I am not.”

Lan Qiren wet his lips with his tongue. “You know what I told you,” he reminded him. “About how I – I could compromise myself if I had to, if it made you happy, but I don’t want to have to. That is not who I am, what I am. I don’t want to have to bend and yield. I don’t want to break under the weight of love the way my brother did.”

Wen Ruohan was watching him, patient and waiting.

“I’m not comfortable with that type of intimacy, the type shared between lovers since the start of time,” Lan Qiren finally said. “I don’t want it intrinsically, and I don’t think I want it logically, either. More than that, I don’t think, having never wanted it before and not wanting it now, that I will ever want it. My brother once compared me to a block of ice or a mountain lake frozen over in winter, frigid, and there was something true to what he said. There is no heat that will make me melt as others do…and yet.”

“And yet?”

“And yet you are not the only one who wishes to possess.” He met Wen Ruohan’s eyes. “I, too, would have you be mine.”

His stupid Lan sect heart, burning a hole in his chest; it should have been enough to make him forget his own wishes and be willing to give in, to want to give everything to his beloved no matter the cost to himself, but it wasn’t – he wasn’t. And yet, at the same time, he judged his own affections to be no less than his brother’s for all that they were quieter and less flamboyant, understated rather than loudly proclaimed

Wen Ruohan leaned forward, bringing their faces closer together. “Then why don’t you claim me?”

“Because I cannot offer you what I should,” Lan Qiren said truthfully. “What you would expect –”

“And when,” Wen Ruohan cut him off, “have I ever cared for the expectations set out by the rest of the world? Would I have done half the things I did if I cared for the world’s conventions and determined my aims through their lens?”

Lan Qiren had to admit that he had a point.

“I know what you are,” Wen Ruohan said. “To taint you would be to ruin my own pleasure, to force you would be to deny myself – and I never deny myself. I am greedy, little Lan; I am not content with what the world would have me want, not when I can have what I really want.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“Lao Nie told me that he told you about his wife,” Wen Ruohan said. “How he stayed and she went, and they were still happy…I want that, with you.”

Lan Qiren frowned, not understanding.

“I want you,” Wen Ruohan told him, and his long-fingered hand traced over Lan Qiren’s cheekbone. “I want to have you, to own you, to keep you. I want to possess you down to the marrow of your bones; I want every inch of you in every way that I can have you. I want you to be mine – and I don’t need to fuck you to have it.”

Lan Qiren stared at him.

Wen Ruohan smile was like his smirk, triumphant and arrogant, certain of his impending victory. “If I want sex, I have my wives or Lao Nie for that, don’t I? To my wives I have only promised power, which I have given them. As for Lao Nie, I know now that he cannot promise me his heart: he is too facile, too free, too easy with others – he is compelled to share not only his body, which I wouldn’t mind, but also his heart, and I find that I am as unwilling to share in matters of the heart as you are to share your body.”

He shifted closer yet again, until their eyes were level with each other and their breath intermingled in the air between them.

“You will not be like him,” he said, voice dark and certain. “You’re barely willing to divide your attention to things you consider less important than your particular interests. Your heart is your clan’s curse and its treasure, taking you to the heavens and casting you down to the hells – if you give me your heart, full and entire, it will be as if you have removed it from your chest and put it in my hand. No one else will have any part of it, not like this, not in this way. It will only be me.”

“That is true,” Lan Qiren said. “I love no less deeply than my brother. My heart is a placid lake with a surface as clear as glass – you can see everything therein. Within it, there are only my interests, my nephew, my few friends, and you.”

Wen Ruohan’s smile widened.

“What exactly are you thinking?” Lan Qiren asked. His heart was beating in his chest so fast that it hurt. “If you want the assurance, you have it already: I am yours, and you are mine, and it would shatter me to let you go now. Is that what you want?”

“It is.” Wen Ruohan laughed, and it was full of pleasure. “Ah, little Lan! It is, it is.”

“What does it change?” Lan Qiren asked. “How is it different from what we have already?”

“It changes everything,” Wen Ruohan said simply, and Lan Qiren thought about and felt that he was right. “Knowing that you are mine makes it easier to release you into the world, to watch you shine and others see it; let them all look and know that it will never be theirs. All good things in the world are mine, and you are the best among them.”

“Pretty words,” Lan Qiren said, aiming for dry but probably just coming off as short of breath. “I’m a little more interested in the practical.”

“I would have you share my pillow while you are here,” Wen Ruohan said. “I do not need you to share your body with me, but I would have your company as a husband has his wife’s…and there are things that can be done without involving your body, depending on your tolerance.”

“Oh? Like what?”

Wen Ruohan grinned. “As it happens, that’s a matter I’ve given some considerable thought to…”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes, and felt the heat in his ears fade a little; he appreciated the small reprieve from the emotional intensity, the humor breaking the tenseness of the moment.

“You know I find you beautiful,” Wen Ruohan said, and this time his hand came to rest on Lan Qiren’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his lips, and as quickly as that the reprieve was gone. “Perhaps you would permit me to find my own pleasure beside you, gazing upon you, or even invite another to share the bed while you busy yourself with your work – you are never as beautiful as when you are focused, your soul and mind wholly absorbed in your passion for the subject. Perhaps I would invite you to read a spring book for me, spilling out dirty words in that cool tone of yours that you use regardless of the circumstance, so that I might torment myself with hearing you at any time and think of that…I have a thousand and one ideas, little Lan, and I would try them all to see which ones you like and which ones you don’t, to yield to your preference and glory in so yielding.”

None of that sounded like something Lan Qiren would dislike, he thought to himself; it really was only his own personal involvement in the act that he truly objected to. And if Wen Ruohan had Lan Qiren’s heart and Lao Nie’s body, and both their friendship besides, perhaps even he in his ceaseless ambition could find a way to be satisfied with what he had for a time.

“I would like that,” he said honestly.

“Then having gained a cun, I will take a chi,” Wen Ruohan said. “I would like to kiss you.”

Lan Qiren swallowed.

“…all right,” he said. “You may.”

And he did.

#mdzs #lan qiren #wen ruohan #my fic #my fics #spilled pearls

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karasimpno · 3 years

Note

Hi can I request a short drabble about how everyone thinks suga is innocent but in a threesome with daichi he's the one sittung in a chair telling you and daichi what to do pleaseee

I love your writing 🥺🌌

Oh wow this made my mouth water this morning.... this was low down in my inbox but I saw it and I was suddenly like..... oh..... of COURSE

Also omg thank you that’s so sweet of you!!! I love hearing that <3 :)

Suga x Daichi x CisFem!Reader

Contains: voyeurism, dom/sub dynamics, oral (f receiving), hint of breath play but not really? (suggestion of being out of breath), orgasm denial, suggestion of either anal or dp who knows!!! Thank u to @bluntkingkuroo for beta reading!!!

You find yourself gasping, unable to catch your breath as your hips stutter clumsily across Daichi’s again, and again, and -

“Again,” comes the cool voice from behind you. You feel your heart pound in your chest and you obey, your sweet core gushing over the unbelievable thickness filling you as you buck your hips once more.

It had been his idea.

You were out for a fun night of drinking and clubbing with the old Karasuno team, many of them in town for various holiday breaks. Tanaka and Noya had been ribbing Suga, giving him a hard time about what he must be like in bed.

“Oh please, I bet you Suga’s even more vanilla than Yamaguchi,” Tanaka smirked confidently, taking a swig of his beer.

The silver-haired former setter just laughed softly, his lips quirking slightly as he knowingly caught your eye over the rim of his drink. You gulped down some of your own beverage and looked away, afraid you would laugh or somehow give him away.

You had graduated with the guys, but it wasn’t until after you’d gone off to college that returning to your hometown held an extra special appeal. One night when you were home for the summer, after a couple of drinks, things had gotten a little handsy with Suga, and your friendship quickly became one with an impressive array of benefits.

“Yeah - honestly Suga, what’s your body count even? Do teachers even get laid?” Noya laughed, a little more obnoxiously than he would sober.

“Alright, alright,” Daichi said paternally, “we don’t go around talking about your sex lives, do we?” his voice was dry, but you had also noticed him avoiding Suga’s gaze.

Daichi, another close friend, had only grown more muscular since joining the police force. You knew there had always been a spark between him and Suga, and you silently wondered whether anything had ever happened between them. They probably wouldn’t have told you because you three had been so close in high school. You laughed at Daichi’s remark, tearing your gaze away from his impressive biceps, still just as authoritative as ever.

“No, ‘cause you don’t have to. It’s practically the first thing out of their mouths,” you teased with a smirk, elbowing Noya, who pretended to be more hurt than he was.

Shot after shot and before you knew it, you were on the dance floor, sandwiched tightly between Daichi—your hips rolling back into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist—and Suga, your knees interlacing as you ground your crotches against each other, his dark eyes dangerously close to your face. In other words: you were exactly where you wanted to be.

Suga was being a tease, a playful smile on his lips as he watched you undulate your torso into him over and over in an attempt to get closer to him. He kept his lips just out of reach, but you didn’t mind - you smiled at his games and played right along, your nose brushing with his as you danced.

Daichi’s firm chest pressed into you, heat flooding your back as Suga’s lean forearms came up to rest on your shoulders, his hands reaching beyond you to caress Daichi. You very nearly shuddered at the responsive snap from the hips behind you - strong and staccato in contrast to Suga’s sensual sway. Daichi reached past you and placed a firm hand on Suga’s side, squeezing it roughly and pulling it closer to you.

Leaning your head back onto Daichi’s shoulder, you caught the intense stare that Suga met him with, and you had a feeling you knew where the evening was going. You felt your heart race a little as the two men’s lips connected over your shoulder, Daichi’s chest pressing into you as Suga pulled him closer. You let out a sigh that would probably have been closer to a moan if the music weren’t so loud.

The tangling of Daichi and Suga’s lips was so hot, so practiced, that you were almost certain your sneaking suspicion was true: Suga had benefits with both of his good friends. Inhaling, you placed a hand on both their cheeks, calling their attention back to you as their hungry mouths broke apart. Both their eyes were dark with lust, and a wicked smile had spread across Suga’s lips, one of his greatest fantasies coming true just as he had hoped.

And that’s how you find yourself completely naked with Daichi’s full length suctioned into your gummy walls, heat flooding your body as you feel Suga’s eyes on you both.

You had felt smug, getting the attention of the two men in the back of car ride on the way to Suga’s place. But walking in the front door, as the two men shot each other heavy, meaningful glances, you had decided you wanted your share of the affection. Your eyes first landed on the thick ropes of muscle connecting Daichi’s shoulders to his neck. You zeroed in on your target, knowing what it would do to Suga. From behind him, you had draped your arms over his shoulders, standing up on your tiptoes to place a wet kiss to the corner of his jaw, maintaining your eye contact with Suga all the while. He merely smirked, disentangling himself from the grip Daichi had on his hand. Suga’s eyelids lowered as his pupils widened with lust. You grinned at his reaction, pulling back your lips to scrape your teeth gently down the side of Daichi’s neck. Rolling his hips to feel more of you, his arms came back, squeezing any part of you he could get his hands on.

Suga had always talked about this fantasy of his. Seeing his two friends with benefits, well, benefiting each other? It was a dream. But you knew what he really wanted.

“So you want to play it that way, hm? Giving Dai all the attention?” he crooned, the threat of impending authority dripping from his voice. It sent shivers to your core; you could already feel Daichi melting beneath you. Whether it was from Suga’s words or your tongue, however, you couldn’t be sure.

“Get on the bed,” it wasn’t a request, and it made your heart pound.

Daichi moved so quickly your jaw nearly dropped. Before you could even move towards the bed, he was crawling over it, pulling his shirt over his head. Your eyes fluttered to see the rippling of his toned chest, the mere sight of him luring you to the bed with greater force than Suga’s words. Was he always this pliant with Suga? you wondered.

Suga knew what you liked, and it certainly wasn’t the vanilla any of his former teammates had suggested. Something about that man unlocked something animalistic in you - he knew exactly what he was dealing with.

Pretending to ignore Suga’s presence, you followed suit, climbing over the bed to seek out Daichi’s lips. But before you could indulge in the sloppy kiss that was calling your name from the flex of his muscles, you were interrupted by the soft voice of your original lover.

“Make her pant, Dai. If she’s able to catch her breath, you’re not doing enough,” Suga had said calmly, having settled into an armchair perfectly placed to provide an optimal view of your activities on the bed. You grinned at his position, loving the idea that he would just watch while you and Daichi pleasured each other. You couldn’t wait until you knew you would be able to hear the sweet tension in his voice, strained over the sound of skin on skin as he got off to two of his best friends getting each other off.

But so distracted were you by your racing heart and the situation that you found so enticing, you just about had the wind knocked out of you, taken by surprise when Daichi’s strong hands pounced on you in acquiescence of Suga’s instruction, throwing you into the mattress before kissing you breathless. It took you a moment to recover, but when you did, you were overwhelmed by the musky taste of Daichi in and against your mouth and the heady pleasure of his knee pressed between your legs. His change in demeanor was so shocking that you found yourself moaning at the contact. Soon, you couldn’t keep your hands off of his muscles, your fingertips working – and sometimes scratching – into the impossibly toned flesh of his back.

“Daichi,” Suga’s voice rang out. There was no command attached to it, but the muscular man above you acted as if trained to do so, instantly kissing your neck, pulling your blouse off as he tongued and bit his way down your torso, lighting up a trail of heat that shot straight to your already-soaked panties, every nerve standing on end.

As Daichi’s head progressed further down your chest, making quick work of your skirt, you were able to get a clearer view of Suga from where he sat, his erection pressing painfully against his pants. His fists were clenched firmly on top of his knees and though he was trying to maintain an air of unaffectedness, you could see the way his shoulders were beginning to rise and fall with more frequency. You smiled lightly, blissfully, and made a point to keep eye contact with him, making sure he could see your reaction to every single one of Daichi’s caresses, sometimes letting out soft “oh”s or moans or screwing up your eyebrows in pleasure, just for him. Suga swallowed before you realized you had become so focused on Suga that your attention on Daichi had wavered. You gasped when you felt his broad tongue swipe a messy lick up the cotton of your panties. That took your attention off Suga, making you miss the utterly delicious smile that your reaction had evoked from him.

Slightly shocked at Daichi’s boldness, you had let out an airy laugh when he used his teeth to pull the material down your legs, completely exposing you to both the men in the room. From your periphery, Suga visibly shuddered and you were sure you saw a hand dart to his crotch.

Daichi’s eyes were hooded and hungry, drinking you all in as he hovered over you. Biting his lip, he ran experimental fingertips up your shin, tickling you in their wake.

“Put your feet flat on the bed,” Suga said, still calm but with a strained edge to his voice. Your eyes rolled over to him, a little annoyed at being the only completely naked one in the room, not an article of clothing missing from the watching party.

“What, and who’s gonna make me? You?” you challenged, meeting his gaze.

“No,” he said with a grin, “but he will—” Suga didn’t even need to tell Daichi what he wanted. Before he had even finished his sentence, you felt two large, calloused hands grip your ankles, pushing roughly upwards and forcing your knees to bend with the angle. You found your feet planted flat on the bed, just as Suga had commanded.

Within moments, Daichi’s face was between your legs, his tongue laving over your sweet folds and taking you in, sending tremors of pleasure up through your body. He wasn’t quite as good with his tongue as Suga, but his fingers were so much thicker that their presence was just as appreciated.

It’s not until what feels like hours of pleasure and panting and passion later that Suga finally lets you slide down on Daichi’s cock. Wickedly, he only lets you top Daichi like he knows you’ve wanted all night when he’s sure you know who’s really in charge.

“Fuck, baby, just like that.”

So lost in your own pleasure, you’re not sure whether the voice comes from the man below you or the man to your side, stroking his cock to the sight of you bouncing on his best friend and lover. Your ears are filled with the lewd squelching sound of your movements, all your concentration centered on the way your palms rest against Daichi’s toned chest, struggling to keep your balance as your mind fills with a lusty haze. Daichi’s eyebrows are screwed up in pleasure, and you feel like you could practically drool, your body’s strength beginning to falter.

You’re too absorbed in the intensity of the stretch inside you to pay much mind to the sound of movement off to the side of the bed, though still keenly aware of how hot Suga’s penetrating gaze makes you feel.

Suddenly, lithe, smooth hands are wrapping around your waist and you cry out with pleasure at the shock of the unexpected gentle contact. In an instant, Suga’s now-bare chest is pressed to your back and you keen openly from how overwhelming it is to be touched in so many ways by two very different men. Already trembling from the thickness of Daichi’s cock inside you, you feel as though your body will give out, pleasure surging through you as Suga’s hands creep up to play with your pert nipples. A blinding white light plays at the edges of your vision, a euphoria rising through your throat just before—

A strong, slender hand pushes down hard on your back, sending your chest tumbling over Daichi’s, effectively ripping your climax from you and causing you to cry out in both shock and frustration. The hand on your back lightly traces down to your backside.

“I hope there’s still enough room for me?” Suga asks, his voice saccharine sweet.

general taglist: @goddessofchaosleo @kodzurin @honeybunny-sawamura @bluntkingkuroo @waitforitillwritemywayout

#daisuga x reader #sawamura daichi #sugawara koshi #daichi x reader #suga x reader #spicy #elle writes #daichi smut #suga smut #daichi imagines #suga imagines #daisuga x reader smut

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nanamikentoslutt · 3 years

Note

Hey I really like your writing so far! I saw you were open to asks and I was wondering if you could write one about Jean for me 🥺 Id love one where we lose our virginity together if that’s okay for you! I know he is a secret sweetheart with a horse cock!

OMG! Thank you so much, this is my first ever ask!! I hope you like it :) also I agree there is no doubt Jean has a horsecock 🥵

Word count is 2.9k sorry I got carried away lol

THIS IS 18+

Warnings; Oral, vaginal sex, fluff, smut

Jean x Fem!reader

“Shh, we have to be quiet, y/n.”

Jean giggles, pulling you into the sleeping quarters, vacant from the rest of the scouts being occupied either on duty or in the mess hall. He grabs you inside and pulls you close to him, eagerly kissing your lit up face which had turned red from all the laughing you two had been doing on your way there. He cupped your face in both hands, moving your lips together through a smile he slowly started to pace backwards further into the room, you eagerly followed, your bodies both moving in perfect unison with one another as you were excited to finally have your alone time with Jean.

You had been dating for a few months now and only became official within the last week or so, your fellow comrades teasing you both for not recognising everyone knew you were made for each other even before you guys did. You and Jean took it slow the first few weeks, getting to know each other but soon enough your primal instincts kicked in and whenever you got a moment alone you’d be all over each other. Jean found himself sneaking you into empty equipment rooms just to hungrily devour you, running his hands up your body with no sense of true direction, just desperate to feel your body on his. You also felt the same sense of urgency to feel Jean’s touch, his tall, broad frame wrapping himself around you as you would desperately rub between his thigh, working yourself up as your clumsy and greedy kisses turned your heated equipment room meetings into olympic style make-out sessions. You were both so desperate for each other and the pace at which you kept it was not only because of that, but mainly because you two never had time for this sort of stuff. With training and expeditions, as well as living and sleeping in a room with 20 other people, you never had the time, or more importantly you never had the privacy. Jean had no issue kissing or cuddling you in front of the other scouts, occasionally slipping his hand under the covers to rub your clothed cunt, watching you try and keep composed while mid conversation with Sasha. Jean loved to tease you like that. Seeing your innocent face start to grow hot with excitement and a hint of embarrassment. Jean would rub just deep enough that you started to get wet beneath your clothes but not fast enough so you’d actually cum in front of your friends, he knew not to take it that far, however many times he’d thought about that exact scenario when alone, rubbing his cock in a toilet stall somewhere.

Through your cautious acts and sneaky behaviour, you and Jean had done almost everything together you possibly could, except the big one. You’d never taken it far enough to actually fuck. That was something you both knew you wanted done right. Being a virgin you personally never felt too much sentiment towards “virginity” however after meeting Jean and falling in love with that big idiot you knew that even if it was something you’d feel indifferent about, you wanted it to be special, because it was with him. And Jean felt the same, he would act cocky in front of everyone when showing you off but deep down he was in love with you and being a virgin himself he held sex as something sacred. Jean liked to joke with Connie about how long he could go and how all the girls from his village called him “horse” for a reason. Connie would usually be skeptical about Jean’s big talk but after he landed you he considered he might not be a liar after all. You were good and kind to all the scouts and that's what everyone loved about you, but Jean was first hooked by the way you looked, he couldn’t deny confessing this to you once you’d been together for a while. He’d admit it was the way your hair flew past your neck when you used the ODM gear, embarrassingly crashing a few times from getting lost in a trance. Jean was fawning over you from the moment you two met, he’d stay awake at night going over each and every one of the small conversations you’d had that day, deciphering whether or not he’d come off too bold or too rash. Wanting to impress you but not wanting to scare you away.

Whatever it was that drew you to him was now the reason you two were pouncing on each other in the sleeping quarters. Your body follows Jeans as he slightly hunched over to accommodate your height and softly hold your face in his. The feeling of excitement exuding your body as your now wet lips crashed into each other, your heads occasionally moving from left to right to switch up the position of the kiss. Placing both hands on his chest you lightly push back to look up at him,

“I heard Captain Levi is holding a meeting in the mess hall…”

You say, a grin on your face that Jean is now trying to read, unsure of what you’re getting at. His half lidded eyes look down to your face, his lips slightly plump from where you’d both been so aggressive.

“Yeah, I don’t wanna go to that,” Jean pulls you back into him and starts moving his lips down your neck, his hands wrapped around your waist. You roll your eyes to yourself at your completely clueless boyfriend.

“Jean, I said the Captain is holding a meeting, meaning…”

The penny finally drops, Jean takes his wet mouth off your neck to look at you, his eyes widening.

“Meaning we have about thirty-five extra minutes?”

He smiles down at you, looking at his devious girlfriend with pure lust and motivation. Thinking about how you’d taken the time out to plan this particular meeting with Jean made his cock start to twitch, knowing how badly you wanted him only made him want you more, which was truly saying something.

“Yes, thirty-five or so minutes… Do you think that’s enough time for us to…”

Your voice trails off as Jean continues sucking on your neck, leaving little marks that make you whimper into him. His hefty palms running up and down the curves of your body. He caresses your ass in both hands and gives them a slight squeeze, keeping them there he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck moving down your chest, then navel and now on his knees looking up at you he worships your cunt over your uniform. Giving little pecks around your hips, lovingly rubbing his hands behind the back of your thighs.

“Come on baby, let’s take these off shall we?”

Getting flustered under Jean’s touch, you nod and let out a “mhmm” gesturing for him to remove the bottom half of your uniform.

He does so carefully, putting one hand out towards yours to help you step out of your trousers, moving the discarded piece of clothing to the side with your foot. Inspecting the wet patch that had now formed in your underwear, Jean grazed his lips over the fabric, causing you to whimper out his name. Not being able to wait any longer he used two fingers from either hand to pull the hem of your underwear all the way down, you cock your leg and allow him to place them to the side. Your now glistening pussy in eye view for Jean he soaks your body in. Putting both hands on either side of your thighs and grabbing the fat gingerly, eyes wide on your beautiful folds.

“Fuck…” He breathes over you, breath fanning your cunt. “Look at my pretty girl getting so wet for me.”

You bite your lower lip at the sensation of Jean calling you a pretty girl, always making you blush no matter how many times he’d tell you. You run your hands through his hair as he starts to slip his wet tongue between your slick, moving up and down in a slow motion a few times before coming to find your sensitive spot. Your grip on his hair starts to tighten as he circles your clit, compelling you to give out a low groan. Jean loved every inch of you but could spend hours just lapping up your cum his mouth, worshipping your delicate little cunt. Seeing how aroused just his tongue could make you made him pull his hand down his trousers to give some relief to his aching cock,grabbing the tip and slowly jerking himself underneath his clothes while the other hands keeps you in place for his now sped up tongue on your swollen bud.

Your moans help direct him into your core as he quickens the pace on his soaked muscle. Knowing exactly what you want and what you sound like when you’re close, Jean can feel you’re almost there. Your hands desperately grabbing and pulling at his hair while his head bobs up and down on your cunt, he takes his hand away from his cock to slip two of his digits inside your wanting hole.

“Fuck, Jean…”

You let out, being unable to keep your balance on the ground but his heavy capable hand keeping you in place. He curls his fingers to hit you in just the right spot, your body hunching over slightly you can feel the warm knot inside you begin to expel, out of nowhere your orgasm comes and a warm sensation runs to your head as Jean continues to finger fuck you with his mouth over your clit. He recognises the familiar reaction of your walls clenching in on him and moves his tongue down to lap up your juices.

“Fuck baby, did that feel good?”

Your cheeks now flustered and your neck damp from the sweat you’d worked up, you breathlessly nod, “Mmm, it felt so good, so good..”

Jean stands up, licking your cum from his fingers and using his thumb to wipe the corner of his mouth. He holds your trembling body in his, moving his hands down below your ass he hoists you up onto him and carries you over to the bed. Gently resting you on your back he comes up to the side of you and gives you a deep kiss. Slowly unbuttoning your shirt as he rests his head lazily on his hand, looking down at you he purrs “We don’t usually have this much time…” His fingers now on the final button, opening your shirt and revealing your bra, he unclasps the front and you adjust to help him take it off, now completely naked.

His gentle fingers run up and down your torso as he looms over you, causing goosebumps along his trail.

“Baby…” Jean whispers in your ear. “Do you want to?”

Without having to say, you already knew what he meant. You thought about it for a brief moment, thinking about how you’d never get another chance like this for a while and how even though this wasn’t the picture perfect place for losing your virginity, you hadn’t bought into those kinds of fantasies anyway. You knew what you wanted, it was what you’d wanted for weeks, you wanted Jean to be the first to fuck you.

“I’m ready, if you are?”

You ask, propping yourself up on your elbows to give yourself a better view of Jean’s face.

“Oh, I’ve been ready baby.”

Jean teases, grabbing onto your side to pull you in closer to him. You roll your eyes at him and laugh at his usual overconfident remark. Smiling into a kiss he pulls his shirt off and while still connected to your lips he moves his body off the bed to hastily remove his pants, not wanting to let go of your face on his he clumsily stumbled whilst getting the last leg of his trousers off his ankle.

Grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the bed he glances down at your perfect body, getting lost in the thought of how someone like him could ever end up with someone like you and how lucky he was. His thoughts were soon clouded by the image of your sloppy cunt, your soft, sweet face below him, ready for him to take you.

Jean was taking in the sight of you beneath him, his thick, long member hard and leaking precum over the tip was almost painful. He lowered himself down onto your body and your legs naturally fell over his shoulders. Grabbing the tip of his cock you looked down and for the first time, you got nervous. You’d seen Jean’s cock before and knew exactly how big it was, but now you were nervous about it fitting inside you, you didn’t want to put him off by telling him just how scared you were so you flung your arms around him and landed your soft lips on his. Jean was rubbing the tip up and down your cunt, the sensation of your slick arousal was driving him insane, he wanted nothing more than to pin your legs back and have at you, but he was tensing hard enough to stop himself.

“You’re so wet for me baby, let’s just take it slow.”

You nod and slide your hands to cup his face. His tip finding its way to your entrance he slowly pushes himself inside and lets out a deep moan, clenching his eyes together.

Your walls instinctively tense up and you’re quick to grab Jean’s shoulders and use them for support. The stretching of your little cunt was getting slightly painful as your eyes started to water. From what feels like forever, his cock is still sliding inside, not even halfway yet, how fucking long was he?

“Fuck, Jean… fuck… just fuck me.”

You cry out as a desperate plea to get Jean to speed up.

Opening his eyes he looks down to see your tensed face, he listens to your orders and picks up the speed. Jean felt bad for feeling so good, your tight pussy clamping down on his cock. His thrusts keeping an even pace, he comes down to suck and lick the groove of your neck, your voice cracks as you try and let out a “Yes, fuck, yes, yes…”

Seeing your face now turn from whimpering to bliss he smiles at his perfect little baby and straightens his back to put your legs on his chest.

Thrusting in and out of your pussy, your cum coats jean’s thick and heavy cock, your moans sounding like sweet music to his ears. Holding your legs he passionately kisses the side of your calf. He pulls his hand down to your chin and holds it in place,

“Hey, look at me. I want you to look at me.”

Your head is foggy and vision slightly blurred but the sound of Jean’s loving voice brings you back to reality, you open your eyes and look directly at him, nothing but the sound of his skin on yours.

“Y/n, I love you.”

Your hand coming up to his on your chin, your eyes widen. You’d never heard him say that before and you just realised you’d never said it either. Which was crazy because without hesitation you knew how you felt when Jean said that,

“I love you too, Jean.”

Jean’s face softened, he looked down at you and smothered your face and neck with kisses that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. The sensation of Jean’s throbbing cock entering and exiting you as well as the attention he was now giving your upper half was driving you insane. The warm feeling returned to your stomach and a new sensation was flooding your insides, you felt like you were going to cum but you were sure you were going to piss yourself.

“Fuck, Jean, I think I’m gonna cum.”

Seeing how crazy his cock was driving you took him over the edge, seeing you all fucked out and in bliss over the fullness of him was just enough to bring him to climax.

“That’s it, fucking cum with me baby, cum on my cock.”

Getting faster you wrap your legs around his torso and let out a loud moan, your eyes wide and back arching you feel your wet cunt thump all over his cock, and just like that Jean wraps his arms around you and groans in your ear, breathy and low, his cock twitches inside of you. His cum empties in your tight hole as he catches his breath around you.

Now limp but still inside you, Jean places a small and delicate kiss on your forehead. Seeing your completely fucked out face he pulls you up and moves around the bed so your head is rested on his chest.

You both breathe in the air around you and take in what had just happened. Jean pulls your chin up with his thumb so you’re looking up at him,

“I do love you y/n, you know?”

Your tired eyes beam up at him and your mouth grows into a smile.

“I love you too, Jean.”

You still had a few minutes left before you had to put your clothes back on and get back out to your friends. So with the little time you had you remained in each other’s arms, just happy to be close.

#jean x reader #aot #aot x reader #aot boys #attack on titan x y/n #attack on titan x reader #attack on Titan #jean kirstein #jean kirsten x reader #jean kirstein fluff #fluff #smut #jean smut #jean kirstein smut #anon

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trini-trin-trin · 3 years

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Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

#andre aciman #CMBYK Book #call me by your name #cmbyn #elio x oliver

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multimetaverse · 3 years

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HSMTMTS 2x09 Review

Spring Break was a bit of an odd ep but helped move some key plots forward. Let’s dig in!

Well people can no longer claim that Portwell is one sided. We finally got Gina’s pov and she starts off the ep uncertain whether the shift in their relationship means that EJ likes her but by the end of the ep she seems sure of herself and that EJ likes her back. I liked that she didn’t try to pretend that nothing had changed or that she hadn’t noticed potential signs that EJ might like her; it always sucks when tv characters act like idiots.

Perhaps the most important reveal of this ep was that Gina has a much older estranged brother who left her and her mom many years ago. That certainly makes her backstory more tragic and is definite set up for her brother to eventually return.

The writers continue to give Portwell great tropes, capping this ep off with an airport rom-com trope that also calls back to EJ getting Gina the place ticket so she could come back in S1. Not only did Gina keep EJ’s Duke sweatshirt but she altered it to fit her better which is both sweet and bold in the assumption that it was hers to keep. Gina got her sign when not only did EJ show up to drive Gina home and take her luggage but he brought her the granola bar that she had wanted but forgot to pack. I wonder if her posting on her story that she was ubering home after her flight was cancelled was intended to see if EJ would show up since the camera focused on her posting it. Also sweet that she’s taken to calling EJ, ‘ Eej’.

EJ’s opening was good, shows a lot of his character growth from the selfish guy he was in S1 and how he’s learned to value other people which of course leads into his feelings for Gina. We got another great use of the camera as character tonight when Gina was laughing after her facetime call with EJ until she realized that the camera was on her.

Jack was a lot of fun. Though he didn’t really change Gina’s mind over anything like the ep description said he would. Seemed like Gina was largely over Ricky and wondering about EJ at the beginning and the end solidified her feelings for EJ but Jack didn’t really play a role in that, it’s not like he encouraged Gina to reach out to EJ or anything. There’s a vague sense in which Jack being nomadic linked him to Ricky’s unreliability in Gina’s eyes with her craving stability but that’s a stretch. Jack mentioned that the second most dangerous part of a plane ride is when the plane takes off, a hint to the blossoming Portwell relationship where in order to take off one or both of them has to risk a confession even though they could be turned down.

This ep might seem a bit weird in hindsight. The zoom parts probably won’t age well and five years from now people might be wondering why they had Gina hang out with a manic pixie dream boy of sorts for an ep.

The path is clear for canon Portwell in the finale with EJ being Gina’s second chance at romance and her first kiss since they clearly telegraphed it out of nowhere. I’ve been impressed with the great work the writers have been doing since 2x05 to build up Portwell as a ship but also work on Gina and EJ as individual characters; they’ve been the highlight of the season so far.

There was discourse this past week over how well or poorly Portwell has been set up. Objectively very few ships on this show get much in the way of set up or consistent writing. Redlyn and Kowie had barely any set up before getting together. Seblos had none (though in fairness that was due to Disney restrictions) and Miss Jenn and Mike Bowen didn’t have much set up either. Rini did get lots of development in S1 but that’s because they had already dated and were the main ship of the show. The show’s not really about slow burns, if Jenzzara canons in the finale they’ll count and if Rina ever got together they’d also count but neither of those ships have gotten consistent development with Mazzara not being in several eps and Gina and Ricky not even interacting for the past 3 eps.

Is Portwell a slowburn? In a sense since they did feature quite a bit in each other’s S1 plot lines and even had a fake dating plot but it is true that they were platonic and not that close in S1 so it’s a wash. There was clear set up for romantic Portwell in 1x10 with team wonderstudies and Gina staring at EJ (which interestingly enough looked more like set up for Gina to pine over EJ). I think the main problem is that even though we saw Gina and EJ hanging out in the background we didn’t get any scenes of substance between them until 2x05. It was a mistake and there should have been some scene, like EJ and Gina commiserating in 2x03 over being single on Valentine’s Day or something like that. Hell there was even that still from 2x01 of EJ and Gina looking at each other at the piano while they were in the frame between Ricky and Nini singing and having a moment which would have been good foreshadowing but that shot wasn’t in the ep.

Whether Tim just really wanted Portwell to be a surprise in 2x05 as a mid-season twist to throw the audience off of what looked like a Rini/Rina triangle or he was unsure as to whether he wanted to go with Portwell or if he just planned it out poorly we may never know. Regardless they’ve had great writing for 4 eps in a row now which puts them slightly ahead of the 3 eps in a row of development Rina got in S1. I’m sure if someone added up their screen time they’d find that Portwell has more screen time this season than Kowie and more screen time than Redlyn or Seblos got in S1.

Caswell cousins was fun and Ashlyn did in fact paint EJ’s nails.

Set up for Seblos drama next week, it’s refreshing to see Seb being jealous over Carlos flirting with other boys that’s definitely not something you see on Disney shows.

Ricky got some healing done with his mom. Enough to cover their issues? No but this is probably the best this show is capable of. There was a brief mention of therapy sandwiched between other options which sounds more like checking off a box then setting up Ricky actually going to therapy. I noticed Lynne was smiling at odd times like when she told Ricky she knew about his breakup with Nini; whether that was poor directing or acting I don’t know. Who knows if we’ll see Lynne again. As an aside still so wild that Tim named Lynne who’s been a kinda shitty mom after his own mom who he seems to be fairly close with.

Really liked You ain’t seen nothin as a song but not a fan of the Tiktok style vid. I’ll level with you wildcats, I’m too old to really get Tiktok, it just seems like a crappy version of Vine to me. Let you go was good, seemed better fitted for Joshua Bassett’s voice than some of his previous songs. A big sign that they’re not circling back to Rini for a long time for sure. Though on that note we got a bit of a hint that Ricky was Nini’s muse which may one day come back as a way to help bring them back together.

Looking Ahead:

If there’s only 3 weeks left till the Menkies, with only 2 weeks left for rehearsal due to spring break, it’s hard to see East High winning unless North High is disqualified or has to withdraw.

Lily is in a promo photo so she’s likely the unexpected facetime Ricky gets which is what I had theorized. Also makes it much more likely that she’s the party crasher Ricky re-evaluates in the finale though what Tim actually wants to do with those two I do not know.

There’s little point in bringing back the Valentine’s chocolate since there’s no real stakes. Rini are already broken up, Gina hasn’t spoken to Ricky since 2x06, and it’s not like Nini and Gina were ever close so even if they stopped talking to each other it wouldn’t really affect the show in any way.

Seems pretty likely that Second Chances refers to Gina realizing that her first try with Ricky failed but her second chance with EJ won’t and that leads to her sharing her truth and cue the Portwell confession and kiss, perhaps with an assist on EJ’s end from Mazzara. We’ve gone well past the point where Portwell can be brushed off as just a plot device to help Rina but Tim is playing with fire by getting the audience so on board with Portwell if he’s once again going to have EJ lose a girl he likes to Ricky in S3.

Gina certainly needs to talk with Ricky and I do think that happens in ep 11 or 12 and leaves them on better terms. As I mentioned last week, if Tim was smart he’d slam the door on Rina if he’s going with canon Portwell or vice versa. If he wants Rina to be a slow burn he’s really botched the writing this season, it’s been too one sided and too angsty to sustain any kind of momentum or audience interest. They haven’t even interacted for 3 eps now and not only has it not affected the show but it’s inarguably made Gina’s story line much better. Again I don’t think he’s smart enough to not try and do Portwell and then later Rina but he’s accidentally set up the Rina story line to quite easily slam the door permanently on them by having their conversation be closure for Gina who’s moved on and an apology from Ricky who never liked her back as much as Gina liked him.

Not looking forward to seeing Nini basically live out Olivia Rodrigo’s life in future seasons

Curious to see Carlos’ apology song to Seb. Ricky helping him with it is a great way to help start redeeming Ricky’s character in the audiences eye’s. According to Matt there is a bit of a Ricky/EJ rivalry this season and if it’s really happening the sleepover would be a good place to do it though I hope it’s not about Gina.

Until next week wildcats.

#HSMTMTS #Portwell #Gina Porter #EJ Caswell #Ricky Bowen #Nini Salazar-Roberts #Seblos #seb matthew-smith #HSMTMTS Reviews

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

Text

Weird Secret Friends *Chapter 3*

I fixed it!!!! Huzzah!!!

If you didn't see it earlier, it was crap-tastic on my phone.

I'm glad so far people love this. <3

Part 2

Part 4

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

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When you returned everyone was laughing at chatting, except for Sonny who was drinking vodka and soda while on his phone. He looked up and saw you both returning, he jumped up to meet you.

“Hey, counselor. I hope Y/N wasn’t too hard on you,” He half laughed.

“Are you kidding me, Sonny?” You scoffed.

“She’s fine, Sonny,” He smirked. “I like a little fire in a woman,”

“Oh?” Sonny’s eyebrows suddenly raised, causing you to give Barba a look. He was blowing your cover!

“I mean, I expect it from Jersey girls anyway,” He flipped his compliment quickly.

“God…” You muttered, looking at the floor. Pick a side, counselor.

“Anyway, um,” Sonny cleared his throat, trying not to think about Rafael and you together. “So when do we do presents and cake? I’ve kind of got an early--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Rafael furrowed his brows at Sonny. “Did you-- Carisi did you really just say that?”

“Do you see a present table? Do you see a giant rat mascot running around?”

“...What? Did I say something--?” Sonny became flustered.

“What do you think this is, a fucking Chuck E Cheese?” He suddenly snapped, causing shocked looks from both you and Sonny.

“I’m sorry Barba, I--”

“Alright that’s it,” You stepped in between the two of them, glaring at Rafael.

“Excuse you?” Rafael crossed his arms.

“Y/N, knock it off,” Sonny hit you softly.

“You have been nothing but rude to my cousin since we got here, Mr. Barba,” You pointed a finger to his chest.

“He was just trying to be nice, getting you a gift out of the goodness of his heart, something you would know nothing about!” Maybe now you were overcompensating.

“Y/N!” Sonny said through gritted teeth.

“What?!” You turned to see everyone at the party staring at the three of you in shocked silence. “Oh…” Your voice turned soft, your face turned red.

“Well,” Rafael straightened his suit and tie, recovering from your little rant. “I guess I should be a gracious host and open it then, shouldn’t I?” He gave you a look.

“...Holy shit,” You heard one of the guests gasp. “That thing is over $1,000! My wife wouldn’t even get me that for Christmas,”

“NO!” Sonny objected rather loudly,. “I mean, that’s not necessary Barba. It’s just a little something, it’s fine,”

“No no, your cousin is right,” He shook his head as he walked over next to Sonny’s chair and retrieved the large gift bag and placed it on the table. Sonny bolted over, you trailed behind quickly.

“No, seriously Barba, don’t,” Sonny began to panic. You suddenly realized how this was going to look, maybe you shouldn’t have pushed.

“Carisi why are you being like--” Rafael was questioning him but was silenced mid-speech when he pulled out the briefcase. His eyes went wide, you swore you heard a few people audibly gasp, You looked around completely lost, finally noticing the absolute horror on Sonny’s face.

“....Is this a Louis Voutton Robusto 2 in Taiga leather, Carisi?” Rafael whispered, running his fingers over the fine leather.

“Oh my god,” You couldn't watch this. Sonny had such a big heart, too big of a heart. He tried so hard...why didn’t you step in sooner?

“Uh y-yeah, sure Barba whatever you want,”

“Carisi, can I speak with you a moment outside?” Rafael blinked rapidly, trying to wrap his head around what was happening right now.

“Do you guys need somewhere to make out?!” An obnoxious man laughed, making the other guests snicker.

“Oh shove it Buchanan,” Rita hit him. “Sonny’s just his puppy,”

“Oh god,” Sonny muttered under his breath as he followed Barba outside. He didn’t know which was worse for people to think right now.

“This is totally inappropriate, why would you even--” He threw his hands over his head. God it was one thing knowing Sonny had a thing for him, but for him to finally make a move like this-- in front of his peers? His colleagues? The audacity.

You wondered if you should follow them. You were the one to cause this mess, after all. Also you really didn’t like the looks you were getting from the rest of the party-goers. You quickly began to follow after them, you could hear Rafael yelling from a mile away.

“What the hell is WRONG with you, Carisi?!”

“I-I’m sorry, Barba I--”

“WHAT?!” Sonny’s eyes instantly went to you. “W-Why would you…? Why would you say that?”

“I’m sorry, counselor I just thought--”

“You just thought what, Carisi?” He growled. “That if you bought some ridiculously expensive gift I’d suddenly realized you were ‘the one’?”

“What?!” Sonny suddenly snapped. “What the-- what the fuck are you talking about, Barba?”

“Uh I don’t know Carisi, maybe the fact that you have feelings for me?”

“What?” Rafael suddenly realized either you were wrong, or he was sticking to denial. Either way, he was probably busted.

“I bought you that briefcase because I want you to like me as a COLLEAGUE, Barba. Do you know what kind of clout you get in our field by being friends with the ADA? And-- And nothing I do ever seems to be good enough, I was afraid you’d never...accept me, unless I…”

“Bribed me?” Rafael asked softly.

“I--I don’t know, I--”

“Well,” Sonny shrugged uncomfortably. “When you say it like that it sounds dirty,”

“Right,” Rafael rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“....But why, in the fuck--” Sonny crossed his arms now. “Would you ever accuse me of--- of that?!”

“Is it because you have feelings for me and you were hoping I felt the same way but it freaked you out when I made some ‘declaration of love’ in front of all of your work buddies?”

“WHAT?!” Rafael practically screamed. “Absolutely not--”

“I’m just gonna ask you one time, straight out,” Sonny approached Rafael, his stature over him becoming more obvious the closer he got to the ADA.

“Then why? Have I seriously given you an impression that I-- want your cannoli?” He tried to find an appropriate word. And he was genuinely asking, he had made damn sure not to act that way for so long, there was no way he had fucked that up.

“Uh...yes, yes you have,” Rafael tried to bluff. He had no idea how this situation had flipped, or if it was better for Sonny to think he had feelings for him, and not his baby cousin.

“That’s bullshit,” Sonny shook his head with a sarcastic laugh. “I have made damn sure--” He glanced at you again, he knew that look. That was the same look you had when you had broken his mom’s favorite vase and had blamed it on the dog.

“Damn sure what?” Rafael quickly tried to distract him.

“Damn sure you didn’t think that,” He answered hazily, thoughts filling his mind.

“Because you do,” Rafael tried to keep defensive.

“....This isn’t about me, this is about you,” Sonny’s eyes suddenly narrowed as he was quickly becoming aware of the glances you at Rafael were sharing.

“Ohh no I think it’s about--”

“WHY would you accuse me of trying to...seduce you?!” Sonny cut him off.

“Does that sound like something I would do, whether it was true or not?”

“So it IS--”

“DAMMIT, Rafael!” Sonny stomped his foot. He was getting bold now as the wheels started turning.

“What?” Rafael laughed like it was ridiculous, looking everywhere but Sonny’s eyes. “When would she even--”

“...Did my cousin say something to you?” His eyes were narrow, he was scowling between the two of you. Fuck. FUCK. Don’t panic. Keep your cool. Don’t move.

“When you followed her just now?” He crossed his arms again.

Whew. Well, thank God. At least that bullet was dodged.

"Was she? Because it seems like telling you was the worst thing she could do!!!" Sonny snapped.

“....She might have said something along those lines,” Rafael glanced at you with apologetic eyes as he threw you under the bus.

“Wha-- are you kidding me?!” You hissed at him, but Sonny was already fuming at you.

“Y/N!!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He started to stomp over to you. “You can’t just throw your assumptions at people, because you think your ‘emotionally stunted’ cousin can’t deal with some confusing feelings he has,”

“Uh…”

“Ya can’t just SHOVE someone out of a closet!” He kept yelling, oblivious to the stares he was now getting. “Especially not to my boss!!!”

“Sonny, I--”

“See I knew it!” Rafael clapped his hands together, trying to rescue you after he threw you to the sharks. “I knew you had feelings for me, I didn’t need her to tell me,”

“FINE,” Sonny threw his hands up. “Fine, Rafael. You win, okay?” He struggled with tears forming in his throat. “Yeah, I’ve had some-- weird, feelings about you. For a while,”

You and Rafael just stared at him while he “came out” to an entire restaurant.

“And alright, maybe I went a little overboard with the gift, my bad,” He shrugged. "But that doesn't excuse Y/N for telling you her conspiracy theories!"

"Carisi…" Barba sighed. "She was just trying to help."

"Y'know what YN, would you mind finding somewhere else to crash tonight, i can't really look at you right now," he sighed as he turned and walked awkwardly out of the restaurant.

"Sonny I am so--" you tried to apologize.

"Well you heard the man," He grinned, totally unphased by what just happened.

"I'm sure he'll--" his face went from a soft smile into a horrified expression.

"Are you fucking kidding me Rafael?" You scoffed at him in disbelief.

"Well at least he doesn't suspect anything between us!" He pointed out.

"Yeah just that I'm a horrible outing twat," you rolled your eyes.

"Aw carino," He pulled you into a soft comforting kiss.

"What's wrong?" You asked softly, afraid to turn around.

"How fucking DARE you say that, Barba. I'm not some fucking jealous teenager, although clearly that's your type,"

"Oh my god..." you heard Sonny's voice behind you. "Oh my God!"

You definitely didn't want to turn around now.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Sonny now stormed over to the two of you.

I can't fucking believe you Y/N! What the fuck is this? How did this happen?"

"Sonny I--" You tried to explain,

"And YOU--" He glared at Rafael. "You had the fucking audacity to sit there and start yelling at me for "inappropriate feelings'," he growled.

"Carisi…." Rafael put a hand up.

"What the fuck do you call seducing my baby cousin??" He snarled.

'Look Carisi I know you might be jealous, but--" Before Rafael could finish his sentence, Sonny's fist was hitting his face and he fell to the ground.

"Hey!" You exclaimed.

"This isn't about my feelings, jackass," he went to punch him again but you ran over and tried to pull him off Rafael as a crowd of spectators was forming.

"Which by the way, you have zero worry of those anymore, I'm not into perverts," he spat.

"Sonny!" You gasped. "...the hell is wrong with you?!"

"We're leaving," he instructed you.

"Like hell we are," you went to help Rafael up.

"Sonny, even if you were my dad, I'm a grown woman," you snapped. "You can't drag me out of here like a child,"

"YN," Sonny had that soft, scary, angry tone. "I practically raised you. I'm the closest thing you have to a dad. So when I say we're leaving, we're leaving."

"Either you come with me right now, or I'm disowning you," he threatened.

"Are you fucking kidding me Son?" You laughed at the absurdity of the threat.

"I'll stop paying for your classes at the community college," he threatened.

Well not only did he just threaten your academics but he embarrassed the hell out of you revealing you weren't even in a real college.

"So?" You stood your ground. "Go for it,"

"I'll stop paying your rent," He kept going.

"Well that's--" You started getting nervous.

"I'll stop payments on your car,"

"OKAY," You finally caved. You just wanted to stop revealing what a fucking sad sack you were having him pay for everything, just like a dad.

You looked at Rafael who was standing now, winding his bloody mouth with a handkerchief from a pocket in his suit.

"I'm sorry," you barely whispered with tears in your eyes and throat. The last thing You wanted to do was leave him there but as Sonny so blatantly pointed out, he basically owned you.

You gave him one last long kiss goodbye, to which Sonny made a disgusted scoff.

Rafael gave you a look of pleading, begging you to stay with him while he held onto your hand. You pulled your hand away from him and turned to Sunny

"Alright let's go Son," you said softly trying not to glance back at Rafael.

Sonny nodded triumphantly and walked out of the restaurant with you close behind, leaving Rafael alone.

#rafael barba #rafael barba imagine #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba x you #law and order svu #rafael barba fanficton #law and order svu fanfiction #weird secret friends

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Analysis: Love Rival: Why Kagami works but is still hated and why Luka doesn’t but is loved

Now this will be my most controversial Hot take, a lot of you already saw the title and are already organizing your complaints. I don't care, you are free to do so.

In a previous post, I discussed what makes a good love rival and if you want a good explanation of that, click the in bold link.

This is a VERY LONG POST, so I am posting a read more. I would love to hear your thoughts on this analysis. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Did you want to include something? Let me know.

I think in order to organize this post I will be splitting it up as follows.

Why Kagami Works as a Love Rival

Why She is Hated for it

Why Luka Doesn't Work as a Love Rival

Why He is Loved despite it

Final thoughts

So lets get to it

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Why Kagami Works as a Love Rival

Kagami Tsurugi was introduced in the episode Riposte, where she is established as a straightforward, no nonsense fencer that wants to be the best.

Her introduction is solid, she establishes her base and what the audience is supposed to know about her from the getgo. We also get the impression that Kagami when introduced would be a rival to Adrien, as they are competing in Fencing, which makes for a nice twist when they end up getting along and Kagami begins the task of being a Love rival. She starts off as a foil for Adrien, but then the reveal is she is actually a character foil for Marinette.

What also helps Kagami is that the show is mainly from Marinette’s perspective, so we get to see Kagami as Marinette does, as someone that is competing for Adrien’s affections, cementing the Rival aspect of the Love rival. Kagami clashes with Marinette causing Marinette to in turn be more upfront with her feelings and push harder to try and win over Adrien. This is something a good rival does, pushing Marinette forward and making her have to try. This rival aspect of Kagami’s character give Marinette urgency, which is something that is needed in order to drive Marinette towards a conclusion, whether it is to pursue Adrien or move on.

Now as a love interest, Kagami establishes her relationship with Adrien in a different way then Marinette. Kagami’s straightforward nature allowed her to tell Adrien how she felt much earlier on, she pushes and asserts herself. This contrasts Marionette’s approach to wooing Adrien, and also has an interesting parallel to how Chat Noir handles his feelings towards Ladybug. Acting as a mirror towards that relationship. While Kagami is not flirtatious like chat noir, she is upfront about her feelings. She puts it out there and is understanding when Adrien isn't ready to respond, much like how chat noir is with ladybug. But the difference being that ladybug and Chat noir’s dynamic has a bit more complexity to it. Regardless, Kagami checks the boxes needed to be a true love rival.

Now the last and most crucial part about Kagami is the character at the core. Cause in the end, we know her and Adrien’s relationship wont be endgame, and interestingly she will be better off afterwards. Ikari Gozen does an excellent job filling in more information about Kagami’s character. In this we get to see that Kagami’s life doesn't revolve around being Adrien’s love interest, she is someone that has her own struggles and wants to find freedom in her own way, be friends with people, but she is awkward. Her development from this and Loveater shows how much she has grown on her own, how she has come to see Marinette as a friend, how she understands that there is more to life than just fencing. She wants to prove she is good enough, and wants to show she is worthy of friendship and love. Those are themes and traits that can be cultivated and grown. Kagami’s greatest appeal is that she can grow beyond her role as a Love rival, and that is why she succeeds.

____________________________________________________________________

Why She is Hated for it

Now despite all of these great qualities Kagami has demonstrated as well as how perfect her character is for such a role, the fandom is mixed about her, some even down right hating her. Interestingly enough, the reasons they dislike Kagami is not because of her character. Especially when you consider the rise in popularity of Marigami. Its because of 3 other factors outside of Kagami’s control. Over-saturation, Writing, and Fandom trends.

Over-saturation seems like an odd choice but it perfectly describes the situation. In season 1, we are introduced to two other female characters that were reoccurring characters AND were romantically interested in Adrien. Chloé bourgeois and Lila Rossi. Now both of them can be considered antagonists, and that is kind of the problem. Two reoccurring female characters already have a thing for Adrien, and both of them are jerks (that being the lightest term I can use). Now we know Adrien would never end up with a bad girl, but that impression starts to stick and make it seem like a pattern. That Adrien only attracts bad people (excluding Marinette). By season 2, when Kagami was introduced, it just seemed to the fans like, “Oh great, ANOTHER one”. Despite Kagami being a good character, and someone that actually cares about Adrien outside of the shallow aspects that Lila and Chloé were invested in, fans were ready to write her off and, with how the show was written, you couldn't really blame them at the time.

The second is a bit more obvious, the shows writing. The largest offender being Frozer and Oni-chan. While Oni-chan was salted on by fans a bit excessively, I have no real defense for Frozer, Frozer was an awful episode and everyone involved should feel bad. Kagami suffers like many ML characters do from poor writing, now this doesn't destroy her character like many would like you to believe, but she gets portrayed in a more negative light when the intentions are not meant for it. Its a bit harder to explain, but just know poor writing and assume Zag interference was what caused issues.

The Last one is something that is a bit more controversial, Fandom trends. Now in season 2, fans really, REALLY, did not like Kagami. The first two reasons having a large impact on that, but what really made it hard for Kagami, was the fandom itself. Since she was introduced first, certain lovesquare shippers LOATHED her appearance, HOW DARE she jump in and disrupt the love square! There are more words that were used, most of which are very degrading towards women and I would not want to repeat. Kagami took the brunt of the fandom backlash, the one that ‘Ruined the Lovesquare’. And when season 3, or as I call it, the season of Salt, fans really hit her hard with hatred, the Adrigami fandom took a lot of salt from toxic stans, some of which didn't like adrigami because they hated Adrien and didn't want him to be happy. It is gross to think about and its tragic that she is hit hard by hatred simply for things outside of her control.

_______________________________________________________________________

Why Luka Doesn't Work as a Love Rival

Luka is the alternate love interest of Marinette and was introduced in Captain Hardrock. He is Juleka’s older brother and is a guitarist.

His introduction is not terrible, but it is not as strong compared to other characters, but I do believe it sets the mood for what he is as a character. His character is the friend’s nice older brother musician, thats kind of it. It sounds like I am being mean but that sums up his character. He isn't really a foil to Adrien or Marinette in anyway, there is no shocking twists or clever parallels to be made, its just Luka. Simply put, Luka doesn't work as a Love rival.

Luka isn't a rival character. He isn't competing with Adrien, he doesn't clash with Adrien in anyway that would help him develop. Adrien and Luka get along fine, there is not a single bit of tension or conflict between them. This isn't a good thing when they are suppose to be competing for the same girl. I already hear what you are thinking, ‘But Adrien likes Ladybug.’ you're right, why isn't Luka interested in Ladybug then? Why is there no clash with chat noir? The point of a Love rival is to push another character towards something, to be a measuring stick. Luka doesn't do that for Adrien, and that is why the rival aspect fails for Luka.

The next course would be the love interest part. Surely Luka is someone that works well as an alternate love interest for Marinette? You are somewhat right, he does work better as a love interest for Marinette rather than a rival for Adrien. But that doesn't make him a good love interest for her. In my take on Love rivals, there needs to be three criteria met to be an effective love rival/love interest, an unequal development of both character, a differing connection that the two share, and a character underneath that can exist outside of the relationship. Luka fails to meet 2 of these criteria. The unequal development of both of them, Marinette has shown some development from her interactions with Luka but the reverse is not provable, we have yet to see Luka really change because of his relationship with Marinette, we don't know how much Marinette has helped/hindered Luka with his struggles, the best argument I could think of was that Marinette helped him be more bold in silencer, but really that sort of falls flat because he has shown bold actions outside of that. Captain hard rock said that he wasn't really good at expressing himself with words, but he shows pretty capable of doing so with people outside of Marinette, like his sister, or expressing anger to Bob Roth, so I don't really see how that works. The other criteria he fails to meet is having a character should the relationship end, Luka’s relevance is tied to him being the other guy for Marinette to choose, we as a viewer have no concrete reason as of yet to see him grow or change after the split. It doesn't help that Luka has even encouraged Marinette to go after Adrien on multiple occasions. People say thats because he is truly selfless and ‘Because he cares’ but really it just shows how little interest he has in trying to win her over, it almost comes off as insulting to Marinette. The only thing that Luka managed to pass was by having a different dynamic with Marinette than Adrien had with her. But that dynamic is shoulder to cry on. I guess that explains why salt fics really try to make Luka into Adrien.

Luka’s character in itself isn't awful, he isn't a bad person or anything of the sort. He is inoffensive and thats the problem. A love rival is suppose to be a point of tension, one that pushes, one that causes development, a force that at its core is meant to help the characters grow, and Luka just isn't the character to do that. He isn't a love rival, or a love interest. Luka is a wall, a wall put in between the two main leads in order to cause a divide without causing tension.

_______________________________________________________________________

Why He is Loved despite it

Luka isn't a love rival, and yet despite it he is one of the more popular characters in the fandom. It was something so mind boggling to me, what did this character have that made him so well liked in the fandom? Why wasn't he as hated as Kagami was during her introduction? I found myself coming up with three reasons why this was the case. Luka was so loved because of Necessity, writing and Salt.

Much Like Kagami suffered from Over-saturation, Luka had the Opposite problem. Marinette’s other love interests all ended up losing interest by the end of the episodes they were in. Nino, Nathaniel, Theo (though it was for ladybug). All of them just got paired off with someone else shortly after. Marinette didn't have another person outside of Adrien that was potentially going for her attention. This necessity allowed for Luka to slip in and fill the gap. The fandom saw him show up and were excited! With Kagami *ruining* the lovesquare, they needed someone for Marinette to help mend her should kagami ‘Win’, and Luka won by default. So Luka was the one the screeching fandom saw as there answer.

The next key that helped Luka was the writing of the show. The problem with the writing in the show is that often the writing will clash and hurt the strong characters of the show. Luka, as someone that does not have any strong defining features is flexible and easy to write for the writers. It makes it easy for him to be written in a way that wont infuriate people because of bad writing. He is able to coast by without having his character be in jeopardy. In a way, he has nothing to lose.

The last factor is of course salt. Now in fandoms, salt is used as a means of criticism or used to describe problems with characters. Luka is someone that people don't really have a problem with, which during the season of salt, made him perfect for all those fics where they needed someone to be on Marinette’s side because Adrien was ‘the devil’ or Lila was an extra mean jerk. Luka didn't have any problems that were agitated by salt, so he was the perfect replacement for Adrien when the writer wanted to hate on the blonde. Luka was the substitute, he was the easy fix that took little effort to include. He was a nice older brother that already liked Marinette, perfect fix for any situation. Its rare to see Luka written in a negative light without his character being warped so far that he is a completely different character.

Luka is loved not because of the things he is, but simply because of the things he is not. He is used more as a means to an end rather than as a character. In the writing, he is more of a wall, while in the fandom he is more of a stand-in. At the end of the day, I don't know what is more tragic.

_______________________________________________________________________

Final Thoughts

Kagami and Luka are characters that were introduced in order to spice things up and add development for the main characters. I find that in some ways they do achieve that goal, but in other ways they fail. One of them embodies the spirit of a Love rival while the other embodies the love obstacle. Regardless of this analysis, your thoughts on Kagami and Luka are your own and you can love and appreciate them as you see fit.

______________________________________________________________________

If you want to support my insanity. Buy me sushi please

#ml #ml analysis #miraculous ladybug #love rivals #love rival #Gale's analysis #Here is a f***ing thesis on them #Kagami Tsurugi #Luka couffaine #luka critique #luka salt #Im tagging it because I will get that one angry anon that complains I don't tag it #adrigami #lukanette #lovesquare #ml fandom salt #ml salt #salt talks #lovekagami

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