#so I guess when I do feel shame about it it doesn't even get written because I can't make myself to 😂 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaila · 2 years

Text

it’s really nothing

tasm!peter x fem!reader (office au)

summary: with peter parker as your coworker, work is something to look forward to.

warnings: idiots to lovers, pining, reader has a panic attack, peter gets sick, spider-man stuff, fluff, actual idiots, they both “hate” m&ms

a/n: this is the longest oneshot i’ve ever written. and also, i really like calling people criminals. let me know what you think!

peter parker has pretty eyes.

this is what you're thinking about while he stands in front of you, smiling politely, waiting for you to say something.

to shake his hand and establish a growing work relationship.

they're brown. soft and warm and a bit too bright for so early in the morning--he probably hasn't been up all night and probably doesn't suffer from a severe coffee dependency.

not that you do, either. it's just...

"y/n," you say, smiling even though it feels more like a wince. like trying not to scare away the newbie. you shake his hand.

the newbie who you were supposed to be director of today.

the newbie who you definitely did not forget about.

and who is absolutely not almost devilishly handsome.

his eyes are crinkled at the edges and you can't tell if it's because he's amused or concerned.

or if he is just pleasantly waiting for you to say something.

"sorry," you clear your throat. look away from him, to the person in the cubicle beside you--who is not judging you in the slightest. "busy morning."

"it's okay. i like... awkward silences."

he's got dimples. a little quirk on his cheek as he waits for you to tell him where to go. what to do. how not to get fired on the first day.

"i'm a little distracted," you concede, almost regretful. almost like he definitely thinks you're crazy.

he turns to look at whatever you were staring at. "yeah," he turns back, smiling. "that's a nice wall."

"okay," you take a deep breath in, feel the shame smother you with your shirt. "let's try this again."

peter, who looks like a tiny little beam of light in this room full of half-asleep people, nods. he holds his hand out again. "hi, i'm peter. i'm supposed to ask you where my desk is."

you almost laugh. "y/n," you say again, to clarify. "i'm supposed to show you where your desk is."

"hopefully it's facing that wall."

and so ensues the battle of trying not to stare at him for thirty seconds every time he makes eye contact with you.

fraternization is forbidden from the office.

you lead him to his desk, show him all of the drawers, completely with a jar full of pens--courtesy of the company--and a little welcome gift.

a little bag of m&ms that you may or may not have rushed to get from the vending machine down the hall.

"what's this?"

you swallow. again. maybe for the fiftieth time. "just a 'welcome to the office' sort of thing."

peter raises a brow. "from who?"

"me. i'm, uh, supposed to be your 'office buddy' while you settle in."

more specifically, you're supposed to be the person he goes to. the person with all the answers. the person who does not get distracted when looking into the eyes of their coworkers.

third time's a charm.

peter nods. "oh, well, i don't like m&ms."

there is a tiny fraction of you that would like to beg him not to make this even harder than it already is.

"you don't like m&ms," you repeat.

he shakes his head. his hair is messy. and soft. you'd like to reach out to touch it.

and burn your hand off immediately after.

"i didn't realize we were hiring criminals," you shrug. take the candy from his hands.

peter's jaw drops, minimally. "um, sorry?"

"not like m&ms is a federal crime."

his eyes widen. he looks a bit relieved. and then his face switches, smooth and chill, and almost evil eyes. "guess i must've missed that one."

"if you don't take my candy i'll have to eat it myself."

he raises a brow. "i'm assuming you like m&ms."

"nope. hate 'em."

he laughs. "then why would you give them to me?"

"it was the last thing in the vending machine. and i assumed you weren't also on probation. "

"neither of us is very good with assumptions," he leans back, looking a little bit more comfortable than he did a minute ago.

like maybe he doesn't think that you're absolutely insane.

you smile at him, try and keep the energy up even though you would really like to lay down on his desk and take a nap.

"so," you say, clasping your hands together. "my desk is right there."

across from his, of course, because you're already the office leader in procrastination.

"if you have any questions i won't be too far away."

"questions?"

"yeah. like, about what email to use for an article. or where to find files in the overly complicated filing system. or why it smells like pickles every couple of days."

his brow furrows. "pickles?"

"don't ask."

he picks up a pen. clicks it. puts it back down.

you watch because how are you supposed to do anything else?

especially when he's got a voice like that and a face like that and eyes that could probably remove your heart from your chest and take a bite out of it.

he clears his throat. "does everybody get an office buddy?"

"only the pretty ones."

immediately you turn around, run directly into the wall.

you fall directly onto the floor.

you don't dare to look at his face.

you laugh, awkwardly, scratching your neck. "sorry. i, um. i'm not very good at this."

at talking to people who are insanely attractive, or showing anyone around. or breathing, really.

"being an office buddy?" peter tilts his head, but he's smiling at you.

you're pretty sure the crinkle is amused.

"talking to people. especially when i'm sleep-deprived. or, trying to make a good impression."

peter laughs, seemingly appreciative of your self-depreciation. "you're doing fine," he assures. "you know, after the whole wall thing. and then the m&m thing."

you cross your arms. "it was an example of your everyday employee."

"oh okay, then." he nods. "it worked."

"and that was a welcome gift."

"you called me a criminal."

"i also called myself a criminal. and if you turn out to be anything like me, then you'll last at least a year."

he bites his lip, looking a little bit confused.

you laugh.

"c'mon, i'll show you where we keep the snacks."

his eyes light up even more. you have to take a deep breath in before you start walking.

peter tries not to bother you.

he took this job with the money in mind.

because selling pictures and running around all night and falling asleep in a bed made out of more cardboard than cushion, well, it was time for a change.

time to become an actual adult--in aunt mays words--and get an adult job.

when peter took this job--mostly because it was the first acceptance he'd gotten and the rejection letters were killing his ego, piece by piece--he figured that it would almost bore him to death.

but pay the bills.

but make it possible to keep up with his extracurriculars and avoid getting his water turned off when he was covered in a slime-like substance that he would really rather not think about.

he figured that it would be horrible; because having a job was, inevitably, horrible.

but he was good at suffering. he was good at balancing the scales and doing what needed to be done.

and may had threatened him with not letting him do his laundry at her house anymore, so, he didn't really have any other choice.

when he took the job, peter hadn't thought that he would be spending almost every night rushing to submit his forms and edit a million different articles.

he really hadn't thought that most of his hours spent in the office would be spent staring at you.

at watching your lips move as you talked to someone on the phone; or straining to hear you whispering to yourself--because not even with his senses could he make everything out completely.

or at staring at your hands as you typed. your eyes as you laughed. or when he said something--how he managed to, peter wasn't sure because his brain all but stopped whenever you were within five feet of him--to make you smile.

because your smile, god. it was the worst of all.

it was soft and beautiful and so mesmerizing that peter was worried you had already killed him every time he saw it.

there was just something about you.

something funny. something intriguing. a tiny little thing he wasn't sure how to describe.

and so, it really wasn't his fault that he didn't get any work done.

it's not as if he'd chosen to sit right across from you and be forced to watch you work all day.

he made a conscious effort not to.

to only stare when you were staring back.

to type random things onto his document and swear that he was actually going to get something done.

today.

but, of course, today he was having a problem.

the problem being that he didn't want to bother you but he also hadn't talked to you all morning.

three weeks after he'd officially met you.

you were his office buddy. his friendly coworker who he was just a little bit infatuated with.

and he didn't want to bother you.

he tried not to.

to keep his staring down to a minimum and avoid planning what he was going to say to you the night before.

he smiled at you during lunch, asked how everything was going.

and that was that.

until now, because peter was having a problem.

"hey," peter whispered, trying to keep his voice down.

you looked up from your computer, a quick smile making its way to your face.

peter pretended not to notice the three cups of coffee on your desk.

or that your shirt was inside out.

"hi, peter."

"hi. i'm--i'm having a little bit of trouble with a document..."

you raised a brow, making one of your eyes quirk up. just so peter could memorize the color a little bit more. "trouble?"

"i don't know how to change the font."

it wasn't a complete lie. it also was a poor, poor excuse to talk to you.

to not bother you.

"the font?" you ask as if he was lying.

which he would never do. especially not to get your attention.

"i've never used this program before."

"microsoft word?"

he nods. he watches the edge of your mouth quirk up.

he watches your fingers tap against the desk.

"okay," you say, so easily. "i'll show you."

you stand up, close enough to peter for him to smell your perfume and practically taste your amusement.

"thanks," he says, quickly, taking a couple of steps back.

and then a couple of steps more.

he allows you to lead him back to your desk. to sit in his chair and spin around, just so that he's looking at your face again.

"i like what you've done with the place," you say, gesturing to his almost empty desk.

"thanks. i try."

you laugh. "very cozy."

and then you spin around again, and peter leans a bit closer to you, watching your eyes as they flick over the computer screen.

"see the little 't'?" you patronize him, using the cursor to point.

he avoids laughing and giving himself away. he feels like a child.

which, in hindsight, he pretty much is.

peter nods. he's sure you can feel it.

because he can almost feel it when you swallow.

"you click that," you do so, "and then choose whatever font you want. except for comic sans. because that is against office policy."

"what if i like comic sans?" he whispers, closer than he wants to be to your ear.

"then we can't be friends and i'll be switching departments."

he chuckles. "where would you go?"

and he leans up, just so you can turn around again. and maybe because he feels little bit lightheaded.

it's really nothing.

"probably legal. they have a ping-pong table down there."

"and a dungeon with all of their lost souls."

you shrug. "reasonable price to pay."

you're smiling at him, so small that he might not notice if he hadn't been watching you do it for three weeks.

"i'd personally go with janitorial. get the whole place to yourself."

"they also have to clean up your desk, so."

he crosses his arms. "what is that supposed to mean?"

"you think i haven't seen the old wrappers and cans of soda? did you clean up just for me?" you touch your chest, mock appreciation.

"nope. it is 10 am, and the janitors love me."

"i highly doubt that."

you stand up, wiping your hands on your pants. "okay. you got it now?"

"yup. thanks for your help."

peter can see you trying not to laugh. he watches very closely.

"sure thing, peter. let me know if you have trouble finding the space bar."

and if peter's got a little bit of a crush, so what?

he likes his new job.

you poke him on the shoulder. "peter."

he doesn't budge. his eyes barely even move. his chest just barely inflates.

so you resort to almost pushing him out of his chair. "hey," you say, just a little bit louder. "peter."

and then, as soon as you've begun to push him again, his hand darts out to grab onto yours.

you let out a little yelp.

it scares you more than it scares him. you try to flinch back but his grip is hard, his eyes are stern and confused as he looks at you.

as he looks down at the hand that's on you; creating bruises on your wrists.

and then he lets go, as if your hand was burning hot, and jumps away from you.

"i'm sorry--"

"are you okay?"

peter blinks. looks like he's forgotten where he is or what he's doing here. he blinks again. "what?"

"you were asleep. i woke you up."

"oh."

you nod. take a breath in and readjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. "you okay?"

"i'm fine."

you stare at him. his eyes are a little bit wild. a little bit all over the place.

he's staring at his keyboard like he's lost the ability to think clearly.

"peter," you say, softly. "it's five."

"five?"

"yes. time to go."

"oh."

you frown. "how long were you asleep?"

"not long. like, an hour."

some part of you wonders how you didn't notice that. considering how much you're looking at him on any average day.

"i didn't realize. i would've woken you up sooner."

you rub your hand, taking a step back as he gets up from his desk. as he grabs a bunch of spare things and doesn't really look you in the eyes.

"it's fine. i wasn't getting a lot done anyway."

his voice is quiet. soft. a bit rough--like he's been using it too much. sore.

"having a hard time sleeping?" you ask, trying not to step over the boundaries of your office buddy relationship.

peter snorts. "you could say that."

you nod. stand there uncomfortably.

not sure if you should just leave or wait for him. which one will cause you more pain.

peter looks up. he sighs. "your hand," he gestures to the red mark you've got on your wrists--which really don't hurt that bad but are a bit startling. "i'm sorry."

"oh," you look with him. shrugging. "it's fine. it's what i get for waking you up."

"no, i just--" he pauses. shakes his head like he's being stupid. "sorry. i don't know what's wrong with me."

"i'm sure there's a multitude of answers, peter parker."

you say it with a smile on your face, trying to avoid the seriousness of this situation. in which, you should probably be concerned for him.

in which you would really like to hug him because he looks sort of sad. sort of crumbled as he picks up his bag. sort of small.

he chuckles. "good guess."

"ready?" you ask him, straightening up.

"i'll walk you to your car."

you hold a finger up, brow raised. "i think i'll walk you to your car. 'cause you're looking a little... green."

peter blinks.

"and also because i'm a gentleman."

"of course," peter snorts a little bit, beginning to walk. "thanks for waking me up," he says, "i would've just slept there all night."

"and then what would the janitors think of you?"

he waves a hand. "they'd just clean around me."

"or call the police."

"yes. or that."

you smile at him.

appreciate the way he smiles back. even if it's just for show.

when peter runs into you just as he's leaving the bathroom, it's a completely normal reaction to be a little bit shocked.

to crave the warmth of your body, even if it's slamming into him and causing him to trip.

causing you to trip, which, peter does not take advantage of.

he does, of course, steady you with his hands, looking down at you as you blink.

"woah," you say. "i didn't think i was going that fast."

"practicing for a marathon?"

you glare at him, just a little. "just going to lunch."

your eyes are delightfully smooth. your mouth is quirked up in peter's favorite way.

he laughs. "i would run too."

"sorry. didn't mean to crash into you."

"it's fine."

he stares at you for a moment. waiting for you to say something.

you don't because you're not a strange coworker trying to preserve any minute with him you can get.

"where are you going?" he asks, rocking on his heels.

"forced to go to the sandwich shop on the corner. i forgot my lunch."

"charlie's?"

peter watches you lick your lips. he watches you breathe in and out and pretends that he's not being weird.

he's not.

"yeah. have you been there?"

he nods. smiles a little bit. "it's good."

you smile back.

he breathes in; trying to match his heart to yours.

you look a little bit disheveled; a little bit eager as you stare at him.

and he's got no clue how he looks because he's got no control over his body.

you breathe out. "well..."

"oh," peter steps aside, running a hand through his hair. "enjoy your lunch."

"thanks, you too."

and then you walk away from him.

peter tries not to feel a bit begrudged by his lack of conversation skills--particularly when it comes to you--and he tries not to think about how warm and soft your skin is, or how cute you look when your hair is a little bit messed up.

but then you turn around, clearing your throat. "you, um, wanna come?"

it barely takes peter a second to say "let me grab my bag."

"where'd you work before this?" you ask peter, sipping on some coffee.

nursing the fact that you're going out to lunch with him and that he offered to pay.

not that it means anything. it doesn't.

it'd be nice to have a friend around the office, though.

and it's nice to know that he doesn't completely hate you. yet.

peter swallows some of his sandwich, face contorting strangely. "i did some pictures for a couple of newspapers... but um, just a lot of odd jobs," he shakes his head. nonchalant.

"you like photography?"

"just a hobby."

you raise a brow. "that's not what i asked."

"yeah," peter answers, slowly. "i like it."

"you must be pretty good at it, you know, since you got paid for it."

he shrugs again. "i'm alright."

you let out a confused breath, trying to take his short answers as a good sign.

as any sort of sign.

"how long have you been working here?" peter asks you, quickly changing the subject.

you pretend not to notice.

"oh, a year and some odd months."

peter leans a little bit closer to you. "and you've lasted this long?" he whispers.

you laugh. "it's not that bad. good holiday pay. free vending machine snacks. and clive, the elevator guy, brings me coffee sometimes. can't let him down."

"clive?"

you frown. "you haven't met clive?"

peter shakes his head.

"that is a problem. i'll introduce you to him. it'll change your life."

peter laughs.

"no, i'm serious. after i met clive i was a completely different person."

"i guess we'll see."

"no, peter. i wouldn't joke about clive."

peter raises a brow. "you joke about getting fired all the time."

you wave a hand. "pfft. have you ever even met the boss?"

you say the words like they're formidable.

kind of like how peter is looking at you right now.

his eyes are absolutely insane.

"um..." peter thinks for a moment. "no, i don't think i have."

"me either."

"really? you've been there a year."

you point at him. "exactly. who's going to fire me?"

peter smiles. "fair point."

you nod at him, content.

happy, for some strange, incomprehensible reason. you can feel his eyes on you.

you look up at the clock.

"you better finish your sandwich," you tell him, meeting his eyes. "we've got fifteen minutes."

and so it begins.

"hey," peter says, sticking his head in front of your face, and interrupting your typing.

you scoff and push him away, moving so you can see the screen again.

resume typing.

"y/n," peter sings.

"i'm working."

"why?"

you turn towards him, sighing. "what do you need?"

he gestures towards your coffee cup, smiling. "want some more coffee?"

"no. i've had two cups already."

peter raises a brow. "that's low for you."

"rude."

he grabs your cup. "don't worry. i know how you like it."

"stalking me, peter parker?"

"you're in there all of the time," he deadpans. "it would be hard not to know."

"rude," you repeat.

peter turns around, whistling as he carries both of your coffee cups.

you shake your head, somewhat amused, somewhat confused.

you blink until the image of his face and stupid smile is gone.

continue writing.

and then peter sticks his head around the corner again.

"by the way, you're missing a comma in line three."

and you hate him, just a little bit.

you barely even smile as you add the comma in.

peter has been looking for you for the last ten minutes.

it's become sort of a thing to walk out together; to make fun of the building as you go, swearing that you're never ever going to come back.

peter, well, he likes the opportunity to stare openly at you while you laugh.

and when you weren't at your desk, peter took the time to explore a little bit.

and maybe go through some of your drawers looking for snacks--not that he'll admit to it when you ask.

he finds you in the basement, going through a filing cabinet.

"what're you doing?" he asks, attempting to scare you as he turns on a light.

you've got a flashlight in your mouth and a glare in your eyes.

"that's too bright," you say, around the flashlight.

"woah. what's going on?"

peter gestures to the mess on the floor. to the papers you're practically buried in.

"i couldn't find a file, and nancy in information technology said that it 'wasn't in the database' so i'd have to come and look for it down here. and none of these are alphabetized."

"ah. and did nancy use that snarky tone of voice?"

you glare even harder at him. "yes. she was very unpleasant."

peter groans as he sits down right next to you, messing with a file you've left on the floor. "sure you're not projecting?"

"peter, you should go home."

he laughs. "c'mon, you can't stay here all night. why don't you look for it tomorrow?"

"i need it tonight."

he puts a hand over yours, urging you to look at him. "you're gonna be looking forever. who knows the last time these were organized?"

you sigh, head drooping. "i know. i was trying to do it myself but..."

"there's thousands of these," peter finishes for you.

"yeah."

he laughs. "yeah."

you rub your eyes, and peter watches you as you try not to yawn.

"when was the last time you ate?" he asks.

"had lunch at my desk."

"you know that's not enough," he chides. "that was six hours ago."

"my deadline is today. i didn't realize i needed the file until today."

you sound just a little bit angry. and absolutely tired.

peter can see the circles under your eyes, and the furrow between your brows that hasn't gone away since he walked in.

"okay," peter sighs, taking the stack of files from your lap.

"peter," you sigh. "i really need--"

"i'm gonna help you."

you look up at him, frowning. "what?"

"it should only take an hour or two with both of us. and then we'll go get something to eat. and then you'll go home and sleep."

"it's--peter. that's sweet, but you don't have to. it's already late and--"

"c'mon," he says, handing you a couple. "who am i going to annoy if you're at home sleeping tomorrow?"

there's just a quirk of your lips. and then it stills, and you're staring at him very seriously. "are you sure? i know you don't get a lot of sleep anyway."

he smiles, nudging you with his shoulder. "we'll work fast. and then have fries."

and the smile it earns him is worth the exhaustion the next morning.

"hey," you frown, tilting your head to get a better look at his jaw.

peter looks over, eyebrows raised. "hmm?"

you point to the side of his face, brows furrowed. "you've got a bruise."

peter touches the spot you're pointing to--as if you've just reminded him of this--and winces. "oh. yeah."

"does it hurt?"

he shrugs. "a little."

"what'd you do?"

he smiles. "how do you know that i did anything? some of us wake up looking this good."

"peter."

he rolls his eyes. looks away from you and sighs. "i was helping may hang some pictures. dropped one."

"on your face?"

"no, actually," he says, smiling at you. "i dropped it on my foot. the bruise just happened to show up on my face."

if it wasn't for his smile you might push him off of the bench.

"you're stupid," you respond. "and reckless. and stupid. did may yell at you?"

he snorts. "told me that just because i 'act like a child' doesn't mean i'm not 'a responsible adult' and that i shouldn't be so 'stupid.'"

you nod, pleased. "good. now i don't have to."

peter is not staring.

he does not stare at you, he swears.

he watches the wall instead.

the wall with its lips and eyes and nose and cute little crinkle in its brows.

he watches the walls and he doesn't get any work done.

and when you look back at him--because you always do--he'll make a face at you. gesture towards the clock with a frown.

it might get him a laugh. or a pout.

and peter finds both of those things equally gratifying.

so it anyone asks, peter does not stare at you. he has no reason to. no need to look at something that he already knows very well.

and still, he can't quite look away.

"where are you?" you say, immediately, without any greeting.

because it's ten in the morning and you're actually staring at a wall. a wall that might've been interesting about five months ago before brown brown eyes took its place.

now it seems boring, blatant, and annoying.

"hello?" peter says, sounding as if he's attempting an old man.

"hi, peter. where are you?"

"at home."

"really?" you say, rolling your eyes into the receiver so that he can feel it. "i thought you were sitting right across from me. what i really meant was, where the hell are you?"

there's a pause. a quick shuffling. and then: "i'm sick."

you frown. "sick?"

"you know the thing where your body begins to ache, and then you--"

"i don't need to hear about your bodily feelings."

peter laughs. "well, that's where i am."

you almost whine. you almost swear to god that you're going to drag him in here so that you don't want to nap all day.

or go over to his apartment and have him cough in your face.

"what am i supposed to do?" you ask, spinning around in your chair, allowing the cord to wrap around your chest.

it's not like anyone is looking at you.

"i don't know," peter answers, voice muffled. "your job?"

"that's boring."

"so is reality tv. where did all the good stuff go?"

"you're at home watching tv and i have to work."

you hear peter sigh. "i'm at home sick and you're perfectly healthy at your desk. you get to talk to clive today."

he sounds a bit desperate; a bit peeved.

"clive misses you."

"he tell you that?"

"no. he actually told me that he wants his money."

you spin back around. pretend to type something into your keyboard.

"not this again."

"you lost the bet."

"i did not, you both knew that i--no, you know what?" peter pauses, breathing against the microphone. you almost have to tilt the phone away from your ear. "i'm too sick to argue."

your brows furrow. "that's not good."

he laughs. "i'm going to take a nap. get an article done. ask clive about cacti. steal all of the m&ms from the vending machine."

"it's not like anyone eats them."

"goodbye, y/n."

"but, peter..." you whine.

and that's how you end up at his door, shivering on his welcome mat.

peter frowns as he opens the door. "what're you doing here?"

you, immediately, walk right past him, feet pounding on his floor.

"i brought soup," you say, instead of answering. "and good company. and crackers."

"i don't like soup."

peter follows you into his kitchen--because somehow you know where everything is and are completely comfortable in his house already--leaning against the counter.

he tries not to wince as his leg strains to keep up.

you stare at him a moment, frowning. "you don't look sick. do you have a fever?" you reach out to touch his forehead but peter leans back.

"i don't like soup," he repeats.

"ah," you wave a hand. "yeah you do."

"no."

you sigh. "peter. soup is good for you. and so is getting out of bed."

peter stares at you for a moment.

any other day he might've appreciated the faux oblivious smile on your face. or the humming you're doing as you look for a bowl.

"y/n," he says, flat.

"hmm?"

"how did you get my apartment number?"

you turn back to look at him, eyes wide. "you know," you say, calm. "google."

he stares at you.

"i looked it up."

he raises a brow. takes the weight off of his left leg.

"you have a file, peter. which is very useful when your favorite coworker wants to bring you soup because you're sick."

"clive is my favorite, so--"

"you're sick," you emphasize. "which means you should go lay down. i'll bring you the soup when it's warm."

peter bends down so he can look you directly in the eye.

so he can stare at you a little bit closer and laugh when your eyes begin to disappear.

so he can watch your skin curve and fall and all of the indentations that he can't see from more than a foot away.

you stare back at him, eyes wide.

"you're not sick," he mocks, "which means you should be at work."

you cross your arms. "it's my lunch break."

your stubbornness would usually excite peter, but it's getting hard to stand.

"did you eat?"

"coffee in the car. and i stole some candy from the candy jar."

peter frowns. "that's not lunch."

he teases a small strand of hair out of your eye, pokes you in the forehead gently.

you pretend to fall backward.

"i'll have some soup," you say, pleasantly, stepping past him. "there's enough for two."

"you could've come after work," peter says, mostly just so that you'll look at him again.

so he can catch an inch of your smile and hide it in his pocket forever.

it's a crime that his camera is in the other room.

"i was worried," you admit, a little bit softer than usual. "i didn't think you could get sick."

"i am human," and even peter doesn't really believe it.

"yeah, but you're, like, naturally gifted. immune system of steel."

"i wash my hands."

you laugh, the small sound is a beacon in the room.

an earthquake shaking peter's core, again and again.

"you don't have to be worried about me," he says.

but what he really means is thank you for coming, and i wish you'd stay all day.

he means absolutely nothing at all.

"it's not just that," you turn around, gentle light in your eyes, face morphing into something peter can't describe. "i missed you," you tell him. "it's boring."

he tilts his head. tries not to let the words fall too far to the ground. "you done it before," he protests, just so you'll smile again.

"well, i didn't have any friends at work before."

peter takes the words. he grabs them from the air with his hands and throws them into a corner somewhere very far away.

he waits a moment, for you to laugh at him, to smile, to tell him what the hell to do about any of this.

and, because you know him, you do.

"go lay down," you tell him, pointing towards his door. "it'll be just another second."

and peter tries not to limp as he walks away.

he tries not to look back at you; fails.

it really means nothing.

it means nothing as you push away from your desk, legs feeling surprisingly limp, hands shaking as you use them to stand up.

as you run them over your face, making sure that you're still here.

you look towards peter's desk and see nothing. he's sick today, you remember.

he's been sick for three days.

that this is all normal, and perfectly fine, and just your average workday, really.

except for the overwhelming feeling pulling at your chest, making it just minimally harder to breathe.

harder to think. to see. to wonder where you are and why you're supposed to be here.

work, you rationalize. you think it through again and again.

and it still doesn't help.

you take a step, moving away from the cubicle, from the phone that you've left stranded on your desk and the tears that--as you'll find out later--have ruined a document.

you take another step, swearing to yourself that if you're going to throw up--which isn't even a possibility really--it won't be here.

it won't be in front of these people, and it will not be over something so small. so trivial.

still, that sort of fluctuating anger crawls further up your throat.

if you tried to speak, you would find only air in the place of words. you would find a dry and broken throat.

you would find that you've lost the ability.

you walk down the hall, nervous tears dribbling down your cheeks.

you wipe them away with an errant hand that you can't feel.

the next goal is the bathroom. the next goal is to calm the hell down and try and pull yourself together.

it's only nine in the morning.

it is too early for any of this.

too early for the sun to be up and too early for these feels to have collapsed your chest in whole.

you were fine when you woke up, you swear.

you had breakfast, got to work, had coffee, got to work.

there's no disorganization in a routine that you've been developing for years. in the same job that you've been used to since you got there.

panic attacks aren't acceptable when everything is fine.

you're fine, you tell yourself, a meek repetition in your brain, but whoever is controlling this doesn't seem to care.

you're fine.

the bathroom is two hallways away. on normal days, you have to plan out when you need to pee.

you clench your fists so tight that they lose blood circulation.

you wipe another tear away, angry at the movement it takes to do so.

ashamed to be walking down this hallway and avoiding the eyes of coworkers you would usually smile at.

but they don't deserve this sight.

you walk a little bit faster, unsure how far you've gotten.

it could be inches. it could be miles.

and it's at this point--when you've made it so far from your desk that you can no longer feel the indention of your chair on your legs--that you realize that this isn't going to get any better.

that compartmentalization has failed you, once again.

your eyes burn as you look down at the floor, trying to note all of the coffee stains you can see as you walk along.

you fill your lungs with air, basking in the bit of relief, the cool feeling in your chest before the anger comes back swinging.

it mocks you with a laugh. with a funny little remark about how deep breathing won't get you through this.

and it's fine.

you walk faster, swearing to yourself that you just need a moment alone.

and then you hear a quick little "hey," before you run directly into someone. quickly looking up while your eyes fill with tears again. mistake mistake mistake.

running into your coworker--especially this one--is definitely a mistake.

especially with his eyes and his face and every single thing that he just seems to know.

"hey," he says, softer, trying to keep you steady with one open hand, the other holding a coffee mug.

you're pretty sure that he just spilled some of it on the floor but you don't dare let yourself look.

this is fine, you think, as his fingertips burn your skin.

"peter,” you whisper, voice cracking. "what're you doing here?"

you try not to wince.

immediately, he's frowning. "what's wrong?"

you laugh. you chuckle. you practically cackle at the words.

what's wrong, do you think? nothing.

absolutely nothing.

you stand up even straighter. "nothing. i'm fine. how are you? feeling better?"

you're very confident that he can't hear the hesitation in your voice. after all, you're completely fine.

you smile at him.

you know that there's something else you should be saying, something funny, something to make him smile.

this might be normal if you could just figure out what that something was.

"c'mon," he whispers, little concerned brow. little evil eyes. "you're crying."

you clear your throat. "am i?" pretend to wipe away any remains. "i get really bad allergies this time of year."

"you don't have allergies."

you laugh again, little bit smaller. there is no evidence of a lie on your face.

the feeling is still there, laughing with you.

"i think i would know, peter," you say, taking a step back from him. "just heading to the bathroom so--"

"y/n," he's even softer, like whatever you're saying is causing him physical pain. "you don't have to lie."

"i'm not lying," you swear.

you swear again and again that you're not going to start crying in front of him.

because if there's one thing that could make this any worse--besides an actual heart attack--it would be peter parker watching you cry.

"did something happen?"

"no. i have to go to the bathroom."

"did someone do something?" he's leaning down a little bit, trying to get a clearer view of your eyes.

there's really no better view than this, you think, staring into his brown eyes. waiting.

"nothing happened, peter."

"then why are you crying?"

"i already told you--"

he tilts his head. he's breathing almost normally. he's standing close to you. his eyes are so gentle, warm. "i just want to make sure that you're alright. you don't look alright."

"i'm fine," you say, out loud, through clenched teeth.

and another tear falls down your face, mocks you as it hits the ground.

and then another, because where else are they supposed to go?"

"okay," peter says, leaning down just a little bit so he can grab your hand. taking a step closer, and using a hand to get you to look at him.

to rub your skin with the tip of his thumb.

to drive you even more insane than you already feel.

any other time, this might be a dream.

he takes a moment to look at you. and you look back, a bit perturbed. a bit annoyed. a bit anything but fine.

and then he nods. "okay," he repeats. looks up from you to around the office--you don't want to know how many eyes are on the two of you.

peter uses his grip on your hand to pull you, clearly not hearing your protests, as he drags you into a room.

into a maintenance closet that you didn't even realize existed.

"there," he says. "no more people."

the room is big enough for you to take a step away from him. breathe out. "thanks."

but it doesn't help.

the tears continue because the floodgates are open and the universe would like to continue to make a fool of you, thanks.

"it's okay," peter says, and he takes the step forward. his hands wipe away your tears, but they aren't fast enough. "it's okay. you don't have to tell me."

and then, in a quick gentle motion, he wraps you in his arms.

he holds you so close. so tight.

fingertips trailing on the skin of your neck. chest smelling exactly like his house.

breaths and heartbeats in your ear.

"why are you here?" you whisper, against his chest. just to break the silence and no longer feel overwhelmed by his very proximity.

"i missed you," peter answers, quickly. "i feel better."

"that's good."

he nods against your head. breathes in even deeper.

you're not sure if it's for you or him.

"peter," you whisper, and your voice shakes.

you topple over the side of the building.

but he catches you.

"i've got you," he whispers. "whatever happened, i'm here."

"thank you."

"shh," he says, and "don't be ridiculous." and "you look pretty even when you're crying." and "i would offer you some m&ms right now, but i think that would be counterproductive."

and you breathe against him, allowing yourself to laugh.

allowing the feeling to envelop you whole.

you almost don't mind, because however much panic is stuffed down your throat, peter is holding you.

peter is hugging you and whispering in your ear.

"it's okay," he repeats, a different variation of your own words. "i've got you," he promises.

and it's okay, you think.

it's completely fine.

this is nothing.

except, you know, falling in love with peter parker.

"what is this?" peter mouths to you from ten feet away.

he's got no idea why you're staring at him, but he doesn't really mind.

"what?" you mouth back, lip quirked a little bit too much.

peter raises his brows. points at the letter in his hands.

you squint at it.

he waits.

and then you shrug your shoulders. "i don't know," you mouth to him.

he stares blankly at you. thinks about throwing it across the room.

you laugh and look down at your desk, resuming whatever you were getting done before he interrupted.

but peter doesn't mind that very much anymore.

he emails you with no subject line.

an invitation.

you take five minutes to respond. in which, peter spends throwing trash into his trash can from six feet away.

he gets every single one in.

for the work party thing?

you look up at him, raised brow.

yes.

peter thinks about how it would be easier to just text.

yeah. they do one every year

did you go?

yes

was it lame?

yes. and no. there was a dart board

you're a liar

you smile up at him. pretend that you're the most productive employee here.

peter chooses to ignore your face so that he doesn't get distracted.

are you gonna go? he asks.

not sure. are you?

for the dartboard

wise decision

go with me. i promise no lameness.

he can hear you laugh but he doesn't look up.

just keeps your voice as a soundtrack in his mind. copy and pastes the sound. hits save.

you're a liar peter

but he finally smiles at you.

peter parker is, above all else, completely wrong about the party.

not that it took much convincing on his part; one single word, one single chance to hang out with him for just a little while longer, well, that was enough.

it was enough of an answer, enough of a promise, and the threat of honeysuckle eyes staring at you until you fell apart, piece by piece.

so the party is lame.

almost the same as last year.

there's a punch bowl on the table, spiked with something you choose not to think about. there's a speaker in the corner of the newly arranged office, blasting music that you don't know the words to.

there's your coworkers, mingling, standing awkwardly together because when is there time to actually talk to each other--nonetheless develop any friendships. or, acquaintanceships.

discluding you and peter, of course.

because, as you've recently become aware, he's your best friend.

he's your best friend when he's curled up on his couch and eating all your popcorn and laughing when you choke in the middle of the movie, but handing you some water anyway, eyes betraying whatever sarcastic comment he was about to make.

he's your best friend when you're eating lunch together, contemplating the benefits of pulling the fire alarm at one in the afternoon.

he's your best friend when he sends you memes over email, swearing that they're going to make you laugh.

he's your best friend when he's throwing things at you from across the office, earning the two of you some nasty looks from the same coworkers in the room now.

he's your best friend when you want to kiss him.

when you want to lean in just a little bit closer and confess everything to him; allow yourself to be uninhibited by his smiles and eyes and laughter and voice.

he's your best friend, and sometimes, you wish he wasn't.

because it just makes it a little bit harder.

not so easy to stop noticing all the amazing, wonderful, significant things about him when you're spending each weekday with him and listening to his voice over the phone every weekend.

not so easy to stop loving him when he's just...

he's your best friend.

even now, standing too close to you, whispering in your ear.

"do you think they're all robots?" he asks you, gesturing towards the group of people.

"i think we would know by now."

he looks severely judgmental. "look at them," he points, "they're all just standing there. perfect posture. great smiles. well manufactured."

"i'm sure some people think that about you too, peter."

he looks at you, offended.

"oh wait," you say, shaking your head. "you've got the posture of an eighty-year-old, so, probably not."

"i do not."

"ninety."

"we are the same age."

you raise a brow. "there is no proof of that."

"besides our birth certificates."

you wave a hand. "i'm still young," you say, "you're getting up there."

"weren't you the one complaining about 'wasting your life away sitting at a mindless--'"

"that proves nothing."

peter laughs. takes another sip of his punch and winces.

you look around. anything to avoid his face. and his stupid attractiveness.

why you're here, you're not quite sure.

"wait," you say, grabbing peter's shoulder. "i think there's a real person here."

"really? where?"

"nancy."

you gesture towards the woman standing alone, staring at peter like she's going to demolish him in a second. looking at peter like he's an actual greek statue--not too far-fetched--and she'd like to destroy him.

it might make you laugh if you weren't severely irritated.

"nancy from i.t.?" peter asks, looking around.

"yes."

"the same nancy who gave you attitude and then made the two of us go through files all night?"

"yes."

"wow," his eyes land on her, and you watch as she looks away from him, cheeks flushing. "i think she was staring at you."

you laugh.

"no, really. her hatred is being fueled."

"she wasn't staring at me, peter."

he raises a brow, looking down at you. "uh, i'm pretty sure she was. maybe you didn't see it but she had evil in her eyes--"

"she was looking at you."

"what?" he looks back to her, back to you. shakes his head. "no she wasn't."

there's just something about his eyes.

"yes, she was."

"what did i do to her?"

you laugh. "she was admiring the view."

peter's brow furrows, and you take the time to admire his eyelashes, the light hitting the side of his face.

"what does that mean?" peter asks because he's completely oblivious.

and adorable.

"pretty much everyone in this room has a crush on you, peter parker. you're a handsome guy."

"you think i'm handsome?"

you use the time to take a sip of your drink. to look around the room and admire the disco ball on the ceiling. how they got that up there, you're not sure.

peter swallows. "everyone in here?"

"yup."

"even clive?"

you laugh. "clive is well beyond a crush. i think it's considered more of an obsession."

peter smiles. he nods, pleased. "good. i feel the same."

"i'll be sure to let him know," you look down at the floor. try and get the coffee stains out with your foot.

it hurts a little bit to look at peter right now.

to stare at his face and understand that it means nothing.

smiles and laughter--they're yours but not for you.

and it's fine.

you're perfectly alright with that.

you clear your throat. "you should go talk to her."

peter looks up. "who?"

"nancy."

his lips purse. "why would i do that?"

"she likes you."

"she was mean to you," peter frowns, eyes right on you.

looking at you the same way he did that first day. like you're crazy.

like he can hear the words you're saying but they still don't make sense. like he can touch your skin but can't feel it.

you shake your head. "it was nothing. she might be nice."

"why are you trying to set me up with nancy?"

you sigh. "peter."

"are you trying to pawn me off to someone else? because i'd really rather go with clive..."

"i don't--" you sigh again. bite your lip. look down and imagine the ground isn't there. "i don't know. just..."

peter nudges you with his shoulder. "hey. this is lame."

you snort. "i told you so."

there is music blaring in both of your ears. it's gotten increasingly louder in the last thirty seconds.

if you looked over you might see people dancing. you might actually see your coworkers getting along.

but you don't look over. you don't dare take your eyes off peter.

"wanna go somewhere else?" peter asks, with a bit of a smirk.

and then you follow your best friend out the doors, not bothering to look back.

peter has always considered himself to be fairly strong.

after a difficult childhood, a difficult teenager, a difficult life--he thinks that he's grown well. that as long as his feet have remained firmly on the ground, then he must be doing something right.

he must be on his tiptoes now.

"hey," you say, arm locked in his, so close to him that he can smell you. "there's a diner open. wanna get shakes?"

he can feel you.

"shakes?" peter winces.

"peter parker, if you're about to tell me that you don't like shakes--"

he laughs. pulls you towards the shop. holds the door open for you.

he tries to fall back on his heels. tries to remind himself that strength doesn't mean anything. that he could hold you up for as long as you needed. that he would hold you up forever.

he plants his feet in the ground and digs his toes into the soil.

he smiles at you.

"i love shakes," he says.

and what he really means is.

i love you.

"it is two in the morning," you complain as peter rubs his hand together, looking like a child.

excited and lit up and far too awake for this early in the morning.

"i thought you were young," peter says. pulling you along.

his hands are cold.

and still, you don't really mind.

he's holding your hand.

"i am young. and old enough to not want to freeze to death on some swings right now."

"y/n," he chides as if you're being ridiculous. "when was the last time you played on a swing set?"

"probably when i was five."

peter points at you. "exactly. you don't remember what it's like. the joy of feeling like you're going to fall off--"

"and die."

"i won't let you die."

"peter," you say, dryly.

but you're smiling at him.

and as long as he keeps holding your hand, you think, you might follow him anywhere.

when peter notices that you're shivering, he offers you his jacket.

but you don't take it.

"i've seen you in the office," you say to him, the words teasing. "and i know that you're the one always turning the heat up."

"it's cold in there!" peter protests, following you as you lead him to the edge of the world.

as he tells himself that it's nothing.

nothing at all.

expect wanting to keep you awake, to keep you smiling, to keep you from falling on your face, and to keep you in his arms.

you don't take his jacket, so he must resort to the next best thing.

slinging an arm around your shoulder so he can nuzzle his nose into your neck.

"peter!" you squeal, squirming away from him.

but his hands are wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

and he's definitely not taking the time to breathe you in and imagine kissing your skin right where it's most warm.

"are you cold now?" he asks, trailing his nose up your neck, feeling you shiver beneath him.

"no."

"are you sure?" his lips are at your ear.

his grip is weak, barely even there. but he can feel how heavy you're breathing. he can see your breath in the air.

"i'm perfectly content, thank you."

you only stutter a little bit. only sound a little bit shaky.

"you can still have my jacket," peter tells you, lips close to your jaw, nose by your cheek. your skin is soft, smooth.

"i don't want your jacket."

"it's warm."

"so am i," you claim, but you're leaning into him. just a little bit.

peter pretends that it means nothing.

and when he walks you home, you snuggle under the jacket with him.

the pounding in his chest is nothing more but a simple reminder.

he's strong enough to live with it.

to hold you this close and have it mean nothing.

there's this thing.

it's been there for a couple of weeks.

pressure on your chest, an unrelenting reminder that you need to do something.

and you ignore it, for the most part.

tell yourself that it's nothing significant.

but looking at peter now--peter with his flushed cheeks and wide eyes and small smile and eyes and--you can feel it.

trickling down your throat, a gentle river, swarming at the bottom of your stomach.

you take a breath in.

"that was a lot more fun than last year," you tell him because it's only the truth.

his smile widens. "i was right."

you point a finger at him. "the party was lame," you clarify. "but the company was good."

"just good?"

he's got dimples.

dimples that you might drink out of, given the chance.

you shake that thought out of your mind.

"getting cocky, parker?"

his eyes are on yours, swarming your face. "i can tell when you're lying."

the smile on your face feels almost numb.

and you don't say anything back to him.

the pressure enhances, builds and falls, and pounds on the doors to your heart, swearing that it only needs a place to stay.

you've always been too kind.

been too forgiving.

loved a little bit too much.

"okay," peter whispers, taking a step back from you, hands leaving yours. "you should go inside."

"why?" you ask, even though you know the answer.

"it's cold out here."

"i'm not cold."

he smiles. brushes the side of your face with his finger. "liar liar," he says, softly.

his fingertips make your whole body fall apart.

you might be ashamed if you weren't so completely invigorated with him.

"are you going to be okay getting home?" you ask, just to break some of the silence.

tear your heart apart vein by vein.

"i'll be fine."

"it's late," you protest. "you could get hurt."

"i appreciate your confidence," he's smiling at you, but it's not enough.

"peter," you sigh.

his hand falls to your chin, tracing a line up your jaw. "hey," he whispers. "i'll be fine."

"hey," he says to you, again and again.

the pressure increases until you can barely feel anything at all.

and here's the thing about peter.

you can't stop looking at him--from that very first day.

and you haven't been able to stop loving him for months since then.

"i've got to go," he whispers, but you both know that he doesn't really mean it.

"peter," you say.

he stares at you. his eyes flick from every inch of your face, every small spot, every secret that you have written on the skin there.

he's close enough that you can feel his breath.

that you never want him to move away.

and you should really turn and open the door.

you should really go inside and forget about all of this.

you should pretend that this means nothing for just a moment more.

but.

"peter," you whisper, one last time.

"yes?" he answers back, right there. so close to you.

and his eyes stare back at yours. they have answers. they have so many questions.

"you need to kiss me."

and then, he does.

"what?" you whisper to him, walking down the hallway, taking your jacket off, bag in hand.

peter is pretending that he's not trying to slip his fingers in between yours.

he's pretending that this is exactly how it's supposed to be.

"we should've taken the day off," he says.

"we just had two days off."

"not long enough," he swears, whispering so that only you can hear. "i want a lifetime."

"let's start with this week."

he laughs. he's far too close to you.

fraternization is forbidden.

"this is weird," he says. "i want to kiss you."

"you can kiss me at five."

"but i want to kiss you now."

"join the club."

he smiles at you, and finally lets your fingers slip from his. he watches your eyes, so sure on his that it almost makes his knees buckle.

"i'm going to hold you to that," he says.

"good."

and then you walk to your desk, putting your jacket over your chair.

peter is staring at you, but what else is new?

you look up, just so you can smile at him.

with the lips that he's tasted. the hands that he's felt. the girl that he's spent the last two days with, and also can't get enough of.

he wants to run over to you. he wants to kiss you just one last time.

and, if the look on your face means anything, he's pretty sure you feel the same.

he pouts.

you laugh. point at the clock.

he stares some more.

and really, it's not like he got a lot of work done before anyway.

my masterlist here.

tags: @moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @random_writer1021 @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah

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zvezdacito · 1 year

Text

// TWST Book 7 spoilers, thoughts of Malleus's writing as a character

So I was reading some other people's opinions on why some people consider Malleus overrated/annoying, and tbh this makes me really sad. The general consensus is that a lot of people fixate on certain sides and can only see him as one extreme or the other and it results in many ppl thinking a watered down version of his character is how he is in canon.

I feel that its such a shame because he's the most interesting, compelling and well-rounded take on his character archetype I've seen.

From my observation, usually they kinda make this archetype (the broody misunderstood 'everyone fears him like a monster except for one special person') someone you can't take that seriously, because of how his struggle usually kind of written in a way where everyone involved feel less like actual fully fledged original characters and really just one note tropes interacting with other one note tropes.

To elaborate: What i mean when i say this is usually ppl who hate him kind of just do because of plot requires them to and to show how all their haters are "normies" who can't get him because 'he's not like everyone else'. The misunderstood guy still usually has toxic personality issues but the story really tends to make it feel like they don't fear him for that but because they're shallow and have prejudice to ppl like him, so his personality issues are not framed as wrong or character flaws.

I don't think there's anything inherenrly wrong or mediocre with the "one special person who gives him a chance before anyone else" trope like I'm literally a Malleyuu enjoyer lol but like i said its all in the execution cause otherwise it fails to be compelling and believable. Usually in the poorly written version of this trope the guy doesn't undergo any character development other than showing more emotion and kindess to his partner because they melted his ice I guess so it really makes his whole character feel like its revolves around the sake of romance and fanservice.

Malleus doesn't fall into this trap in my opinion because his situation despite how fantastical it is, the way he was written makes it believable as to why everything is the way it is with him, and it also challenges the viewer if they would be able to say they wouldn't fear him too in that situation.

"We're gonna give you this character who everyone sees as a monster and show you deep down he just wants the same love as everyone else, making you contemplate changing judgement on him. He wants to prove this, but his way of going about it always inadvertently harms others."

"You know where hes coming from and if he had that social connection to give him a better understanding of others this wouldn't be happening, but its also equally understandable that the people hes trying to connect with don't deserve this and fear him even more after this, trapping him in a cycle of isolation."

"Given his track record, do you go about giving him a chance or just considering the repeatedly proven danger he brings. With the valid reasons of both parties, can you really say he isn't a monster and demand that 'if only people be near him'?"

There's just such a tragic and thought-provoking dilemma to his character that adds so many layers that makes him so good.

As omniscient viewers we have the benefit of seeing what he's going through form his POV so we can sympathize with him and understand that he thinks what he's doing is the best course of action and he's just trying to create a "win for everyone" situation.

But also everything he does ironically reaffirms everyone's fear and distrust of someone like him. No one can deny he has a tendency to cause further destruction when he tries to do something "good", examples including: past Briar Valley lantern lighting fire, the Halloween 2 ghost world party, and now his Sleeping Curse stunt in Book 7 Part 2 (they really emphasize this by making the spoken name of his UM basically mean "Malicious Fairy" but have its written name used to convey what its meant to mean be "Blessing").

↑ Given this, it honestly makes sense others, especially those who don't know him all that well, would just expect the worst when he's around already, and you wouldn't be able to blame them for that given the track record. It doesn't help that this impression is worsened since he tends to cause misunderstandings due to his lack of familiarity with human social cues.

Alongside the bias and preconceived notions from his status and reputation, they also make a point on how his personality flaws are still also a huge factor in pushing people away, such as not being able to see things through the perspective of others.

He also holds a subconcious belief due to what has been ingrained in him since childhood as a Draconia and the next in line that because he's superior to others at certain things, he has the right and responsibility to decide on what will protect and help them, disregarding the individual values/priorities of human beings and leading him to take reckless and destructive action with good intentions.

His upbringing, character strengths and character flaws are all realistically connected to each other and the way they are subtly shown to be ever-present in defining his decisions, goals and thoughts throughout the whole story. So we don't really need to have a character go out of their way to exposition this to us this word for word just so we can understand and believe it.

Moving onto something slightly more lighthearted, I really also like how dorky Malleus surprisingly was. Other similar characters in the archetype I usually see don't really have any hobbies, interests, or quirks outside of being a broody authority figure, which might've been appealing to some at first but it really just gets stale and boring after a while.

This should be the bare minimum in making a fleshed out and interesting character so maybe i sound like im giving them too much credit for pointing it out😭 But yeah compared to the other examples it's good that Malleus has his Tamagotchi and Gargoyle interests it makes him feel like a believable person who has his own life going on too (with the bonus that these interests are also metaphors for aspects of his character). The gap moe adds an endearing side to him, and makes the gap between his intent and impact of his actions even more tragic. It wouldn't hit the same without this side.

(^ Forgot how the exact quote goes, but it basically said dark stories are more effective when there are moments of genuine happiness and good in them, compared to if it was always just grim and edgy. The former increases the stakes and tragedy because you have something you to care about losing, while for the latter there is nothing for you to care about so nothing the story does really matters. Same logic applies to Malleus)

Overall, it's just like an unfortunate incompatibility of goals and circumstances, which is what TWST is all about. Another thing I want to say is out of all the characters, I feel like Malleus is the one who is the ultimate embodiment of TWST's main themes:

-> How it's not about "hero" vs "villain" just differing circumstances crossing paths and clashing because of how people on either side have their own complex perspective and dreams they want to realize

-> And how connection and finding community is important to find people who will help you make up for what you lack in reaching your goals and to better understand all the factors that caused the situation in the first place.

As if seeing yourself reflected in a mirror, the more you get to know the people around you, you realize in many ways you are actually quite alike, and through understanding others you could also possibly better understand certain aspects of yourself. It's sort of encouraging you to do the opposite of dehumanizing others and yourself, which is something Malleus has most evidently internalized.

So yeah this was so long😭 I had a lot I wanted to say since Malleus is my favorite TWST character. Idk if I missed anything or if i managed to express my thoughts in a cohesive way but yeah. I kinda go into a rage whenever I see the worst takes ever be put out about his character but tbh sometimes I can't completely blame others since fandom trends and the convenience of simplifying things into tropes can warp your perception of a character and what you associate with them.

Also sometimes twst doesn't do a good job with utilizing his character like Book 5 where he got turned into a deus ex machina and Halloween 2 where they killed any hype and intrigue for the plot we had at the beginning through the ending reveal and gave the worst justification ever for Malleus and Lilia's actions ever.

Regardless, I hope more people manage to move past this and appreciate his character for what it really is soon though. He's an amazingly tragic character; a lot of thought was put into how his experiences, strengths and weaknesses would convincingly connect, and he represents something relevant in the story's plot and themes.

The fact that I've seen some people unironically believe that Malleus may just be faking his cluelessness of social cues to hide his "true evil" is evidence to how convincing his character's situation is, that even some in the audience who know more about him than the characters would still end up in the same place of doubt and distrust of Malleus because of what he's capable of.

Aight thank you for reading👍

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst book 7 spoilers #malleus draconia #twst writing analysis ?#diasomnia #i am his number 1 defender #ignore me just putting random photos in between text i tried separating chunks of text to make it more readable lol #twst character analysis ?

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royboyfanpage · 16 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/big-gay-apocalypse/732547558666289152?source=share

how do these pannels make you feel. they make me feel sad

Hi anon!

For context these are the panels Anon sent me-

For starters, it's totally understandable that these panels make you feel sad! That's clearly what they were written to do.

However.

I can't take it seriously because it's RUDY WEST. Rudy West is not comparable to Oliver Queen! Rudy West is absolutely not a better father than Ollie!

I mean, aside from the fact that it's pretty hard to be a worse father than Rudy West and Roy would absolutely not be "a better person" if he was raised by the Wests, like. Ollie and Roy didn't have that much of a bad relationship when Roy was a teenager. Obviously Snowbirds happened and that changed their dynamic and created a whole lot of tension they had to work through, but this is clearly pre-Snowbirds, and since Ollie still has money+Queen Industries it's also presumably pre-Hard Traveling Heroes, which is where the idea of Ollie not being around stems from. Was there conflict? Sure! But not to the extent that the Teen Titans would be blaming Ollie for how Roy is (actually, the "its not his fault the way he was raised" angle is more accurate for Dick than Roy, but I'm not gonna get into that). And I am doing a lot of explaining and defending for a man who's competition is Rudy West.

Fundamental misunderstanding of Ollie and reducing him to "Batman with arrows" my beloathed.

Also another big issue is the fact that Roy's meant to be some spoilt rich brat, which doesn't really make sense?? I mean, Roy grew up on a reservation, and at this point he's living with Ollie who, based on this panel, is implied to still be at least kinda socialist in this timeline. He's not gonna be some disconnected nepo-baby who shames Wally for his parents' financial status, even at his most insecure, which I guess is the angle they're taking here.

And also why is Garth the one defending Roy? Garth doesn't care about Roy at best at this point, and actively dislikes him at worst. Especially considering Roy's treatment of Garth is arguably worse in this than in the original Teen Titans run. Idk, it feels like it's trying to make Garth into the quiet emotionally mature kid in this scenario, which i don't feel is very accurate to who Garth actually is (I'll admit I'm only recently getting into Aqua comics so I don't have a complete grasp of Garth's character, but I get the impression that he's definitely not as much of a pushover as this comic presented him as- in the original Teen Titans run he was bantering as much as the others were, and he did have moments where he'd get aggressive, such as when the Titans refuse to help him because of their 'vow')

I'm not gonna say I hate this comic. There are some parts of it I really love, like

These panels are cute as fuck and I adore them. I think that the comic really works as its own story outside of the main Teen Titans continuity, with its own interpretations of the characters and their stories. But if you try and apply it to the original Teen Titans series, it does get kinda messy.

So yeah, in conclusion, the panels are sad if you look at them within the story, but I just can't take it seriously in a broader scope because y'know. Rudy West. I'm not even that big of a Flash fan and I still know Rudy West is the worst guy.

#thanks for the ask!#going through my inbox finally #roy harper #wally west #garth #oliver queen

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doubledyke · 2 months

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What do you think would happen immediately after BPS? How would all the parents personaly react to their disappeared and returning children? The kids would really ever throw a party, or just have to fix all the wrecks and be grounded? And Edd and Eddy would even have a face-to-face good conversation about their adventure and what they learned?

I think Eddy would need a validation from Edd more than ever, and the fear they could have lost each other would let them even more attached.

i had detailed ass theories written out for each kid as to what lies they could tell their parents and what the likelihood was that they'd be believed, etc. and then i realized that it could all be solved with a simple phone call from one parent to another lmao. and lbr, the chances that someone's kid is gonna be gone all night and they're not gonna flip the fuck out are slim to none. outside of a couple exceptions of course. i felt like a moron so i didn't include it here. i guess i like to pick and choose when to adhere to cartoon logic 😂

anyway i do think the non-ed kids would get into trouble and be grounded for varying lengths of time. they might have just enough time to have a little kiki in the lane before heading home and getting dragged inside by the ear/bear hugged/further ignored.

one exception might be rolf, because i don't think it'd be entirely out of the norm for him to be gone all night on occasion. maybe he had an urban ranger camping trip that his nana forgot to tell his parents about, or had to chase down an escaped animal into the wee hours of the morning. he enters the house, clearly disheveled and sweating nervously, but probably gets nothing but a fine howdy do from everyone inside.

eddy would be grounded for a comically short period of time because he's a spoiled brat. a couple of days tops. it's really only an attempt by his parents to appease the angry mob. all the other parents know he's the little shit stirring ring leader and berate his guardians accordingly. regarding his absence, he tells them he and the boys rode out the storm in the van and that they were fine. he accepts his punishment because telling them what really happened means telling them he visited his brother and that WOULD get his ass in big trouble. legal stuff, you know. as far as any takeaway he might have... let's be real here, eddy's still the same ole eddy at this point. i don't think the full weight of what just happened has hit him quite yet. he's still reeling about being invited to kev's for jawbreakers and whatever else preteens who don't really like each other do for funsies. i do think that while he's spending aaaaaall that time alone (again, 2 days max), in between trying on outfits for that party at kevin's, the image of edd standing up to his brother does cross his mind. edd, the coward. edd the wimp, stood up to his tormentor. and got swiftly beaten into the ground for it. yet still ran over to make sure he was okay after ed essentially saved his life. ed the dolt. ed the idiot was the one to think of pulling out the pin (literally), and blasting his abuser with a face full of door. i think the guilt, shame and embarrassment would hit him hard, along with a lot of weird mushy stuff that he doesn't really know what to do with. so he doesn't do anything with it. not immediately anyway. but i've already talked about post bps eddy a bit so i'll leave it at that.

i've seen people say that edd's parents wouldn't even notice that he was gone overnight, because... so were they. and yall know i'm the #1 hater of edd's parents so of course i agree lol. if word gets back to them somehow though, i imagine them being very passive aggressive about it. shocking, i know. i feel like they'd go their usual route and punish him by not talking to him - as in not even leaving sticky notes around the house. except for one that says something along the lines of "dear eddward, you are not to leave the house today, as you are hereby grounded until further notice." along with a scroll of chores of course. but yeah they make him wait around and wonder when he'll be able to see his friends again. probably a good few weeks or so. i've always had the headcanon that eddy would be banned from edd's house and maybe this is when that happens as well. if word doesn't get back to them- which is more likely imo because they're so elusive that no one knows how to contact them - i think edd could likely have a bit of a meltdown over their indifference. not to mention the guilt he feels in either scenario. for starters, he feels like he simply must tell someone what he's just witnessed- especially as a future mandated reporter... nah i'm kidding but i do think he'd want to tell an adult what happened to his dearest friend. but he knows it would only compound eddy's grief. outside of that, there's the fact that he feels that he never received a comeuppance of his own. eddy got thrashed by his so-called "hero" in front of his peers, and if his previous punishments are any indication, ed is very likely enduring what can only be described as suburban confinement for the foreseeable future. he, on the other hand, has gotten away with a horrible deed, with more than a year's worth of horrible deeds without so much as a scowl from his parents. he has to fight tooth and nail to resist his compulsion to confess his wrong doing, directly this time. cuz the confessional he wrote at the beginning of this ordeal is still on his desk when he gets home. it's kind of like when people say "at least if you're angry, i know you care", but magnified 100x for his entire life. i think this is when the switch kinda flips for him and he has to come to terms with the fact that his parents are at best, extremely cold and aloof. and at worst, knowingly neglectful. either will be hard for him to accept of course, because he's got an image in his mind already of what "true" neglect looks like:

ed's going in the hole, man. it's the cliche where his parents fawn over sarah and are so thankful that she's okay and "you had us worried sick, missy". only to turn to their other child who was also missing for 24 hours and proceed with the finger wagging and reprimanding. i don't think sarah would rat him out though. in fact at this point she might even try to stick up for her now suddenly not so bad older brother. but to no avail. in fact, it makes his mom angrier - she must have hit her head if she's sticking up for her troublemaking brother. "you see, edward? your erratic behavior has finally landed your little sister in the hospital. hope it was worth it." as far as they're concerned, ed put sarah in grave danger by running away. he was a terrible influence, and for that he's gotta be made an example of... to himself? i'm gonna venture a guess here that dad'll be taking the stairs again. he also boards up the basement window. they take his tv, his tapes, his comics, and all his model making supplies. his mom wanted to take his gravy tub but dad insisted it was too much of a hassle. luckily for him though, they can't take that vivid imagination of his. he spends the next two weeks staring at the ceiling, coming up with a storyline for his own comic, which he starts working on as soon as his belongings are returned. it ends up being sooner than he anticipated. he was told it'd be a month, but his mom is sick of looking at the box of his crap in their bedroom closet, so he's off the hook early. lucky feller. next time he runs away though, he's making extra sure sarah doesn't follow.

obviously i think edd and eddy, really all three eds are going to be even closer than they were before their little excursion. but i think it takes time for eddy to mature enough to truly grasp how meaningful it all was. like he knows, but admitting it is corny af. edd is probably gonna be so preoccupied with deconstructing his relationship with his parents that he's a somewhat aloof for a period. there's also a rumbling within ed, especially after seeing sarah's attempt at defending him. i don't really know what conclusion he comes to except that if he wants even a chance at having a good relationship with his sister, he's gotta get the fuck out of there asap. i do think he'd start "running away" more often, possibly staying with eddward during his burgeoning rebellion, or from time to time, eddy. maybe even rolf. he might also sleep in the van when the weather allows. anything to be away from that hell hole. i wrote in my fic that he'd move out and live with may at age like, 17 i think? literally as soon as possible lol.

#i know it seems like i make ed and edd's parents overly terrible but parents really can be overly terrible as i'm sure many of you guys know #if you don't agree that's cool but yknow i'm just answering an ask i got #a long ass time ago btw sorry for not getting to it sooner anon #thanks for asking though #text

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last-starry-sky · 4 days

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Kate, consider this: making out with a girl to get Simon’s attention. Naturally, he gets possessive and drags you away. Then you get weirdly jealous over how he’s tasting another woman’s lips when he kisses you 🤪

warning - listen, i am painfully heterosexual 💀 but do i enjoy a toxic scenario between two fundamentally broken people enough to get over it? hell yes.

[MDNI - reader/f!oc (I guess? she's written very vaguely so have fun with that) - nothing nsfw, just some drinking and kissing. I wrote it more that Simon becomes jealous, reader doesn't plan it, sorry. maybe some spice if you want a part 2???👀]

You don't understand why he's mad.

He's the one who led you on for weeks. Texting and calling at all hours, which you answered promptly (like a moron), only to be suddenly left unread? You understood he was military, but there was only so much you could swallow.

You'd cared for him too. Stuffed his massive frame and all his stuff into your tiny car when you picked him up from the airport, given him a place in your house to rest and unpack his bags, too, if only for a few days. You expected the newfound closeness to also push him to become, you know, closer to you. But it's like every ounce of your desirability evaporated once you gave permission for him to stay.

Whatever, you think as you get ready to go out after work. He’s not even there. It's his loss really. If he's going to treat you like a hotel, then he can enjoy the lumpy mattress in the spare room alone.

You have all this pent up energy to let off and a whole night to do it.

The cub is nice and busy: filled wall-to-wall with bodies on the dance floor and the bar. It’s dark and hazy, enough to see your drink in front of you, maybe a face if you really tried, but no one is here for that. You’re here to melt into the crowd stuffed into the little brick building, get drunk and maybe have a little anonymous fun.

You’d just managed to squeeze a spot in at the bar, the bartender mixing up your drink quickly in front of you before jetting away. Shame, you think as you spin your ice cube with the pretty fruit skewer. He was cute.

“Hey!” A woman's voice says behind you as she slides into the stool next to you, her hand on your back. “Mind if I sit with you?”

Oh, you think, she’s cute, too. A sparkly gold dress that matches her eye shadow hangs off her frame as she rests her head in her hand. You can tell she’s been dancing her heart out. Sweat beads at her hairline and neck, making her sparkle even more in the dim light.

“Go ahead,” you say, leaning in so she can’t hear you. “Need something to drink? Water?”

She laughs a musical laugh as she catches her breath. “Buying me a drink already? You move fast.”

You nod, a new boldness growing from all the disappointment you’ve been shoving down since Simon set fire to your expectations.

“I have a tab,” you tell her as she pulls her stool close enough to touch your knees. She’s signaling for the bartender before you have the words out of your mouth.

You order another drink each, falling into easy conversation once the music changes from a thumping rave to slow and melodic. You talk about your lives, jobs, the reason you both came out tonight, all while you carefully tiptoe around mentioning the man staying at your house.

“You wanna know why I sat by you?” She says, finishing her second drink.

You shake you head and stir your own drink with the skewer, cherries falling down into the alcohol.

“You looked sad,” she says reaching out to hold your wrist. “Pretty girl like you? Didn’t want you to sit at the bar all night. Wanted to see you smile! Get out there and dance, be happy, you know?”

You feel a blush creep over your cheeks. You look down to where she’s touching you. It’s innocent, but something about her look says she wishes it wasn’t.

Might as well tell her now.

“I . . . I invited this guy to stay with me and he turned out to be a total ass,” you blurt out.

She reaches out immediately with both arms to pull you into a hug.

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she says smoothing her hands down your back. Her words are soft and sweet in your ear. “Guys can be so dumb sometimes,” she says pulling away, her hands trailing down your arms to hold your hands. “That’s why I don’t even bother anymore. Wanna dance?”

You nod again, a small smile mirroring hers as she pulls you away from the bar.

Her hand is on your back as she leads you onto the dance floor. The crowd is gathering again now that the music has picked up tempo, but her hands casually draped on your hips tell everyone else to give you space. You like it. She’s warm and energetic, already swaying to the music. You thread your arms over her shoulders nervously. This can’t be any different from dancing with a guy, right?

“Relax,” she says leaning in to your ear. “Not gonna bite.”

You nod back. She pulls away until you’re nose to nose.

“First time?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

You nod again. She pulls you into closer, until your hips are flush, breasts pressing deliciously together, your faces only a breath apart. You can feel how wide your eyes are.

“”sokay. Just lean your head on my shoulder. I’ll lead.”

You do as she tells you. Closing your eyes as she rocks both of your bodies to the beat. You enjoy it. A spore of a thought lands in your mind to ruin it, though: what if Simon hadn’t been such a distant prick? Could this have been you and him? Would he have even come out with you?

You feel a vibration in your pocket as she slides her thigh between yours. You whine at the contact, not even registering the next text that comes through for a full minute. You sluggishly pull away, pulling your phone out as you do. You give her a sheepish look as you check your lock screen.

It’s Simon.

You sigh and fall back into her waiting arms. You don’t want to answer him. You have a sinking feeling he's just gotten back to your empty house and now he's trying to crawl back to you, apologizing and begging for a crumb of pussy like before. You don't want that though. You want to stay here, in the arms of someone who gives a damn about you, who makes you feel good.

"Your guy?" she asks, more mirth than disappointment in her voice.

You nod into her shoulder. You pick your head up with another sigh. "I should answer him back," you shout over the crowd.

She flicks her head back, indicating the front door, before leading you through the wall of bodies off the dance floor.

She holds your hand until you walk out into the chill of the night. The crowd of smokers looks back at the both of you before turning back, minding their own. You pull away to look at your phone. Another message from Simon had come through. Before you can unlock your phone to read them, she grabs your hand again.

"Hey, I-" she says snuggling up to you, hands circling your hips again. Her slinky dress can't be keeping her very warm. "I had a great time with you, so, no pressure, but if your guy is still being an ass-" You let her pull you flush to her body, your heart pounding in your chest. "you can come back with me tonight," she whispers before pecking a kiss on your lips.

Neither of you pull away. You do forget about the phone in your hand and the plans you'd made almost immediately. Silently, you press back against her lips, your hand coming up to rest on her neck.

You can taste her lip gloss as you kiss her, nothing but plastic and chemicals, but it makes your head spin. It's almost sweet, how chaste the two of you are. Standing outside of a bar, her shivering and moaning, as you hold one another and share a long goodnight kiss.

Your phone vibrating in your hand knocks you back to reality. This time, you hold it up to your face, and your phone unlocks into your messages automatically.

where are u? gone out? want to talk. outside. give u a ride home.

You hear unmistakable rattle of your car (you've been meaning to get that noise looked at, honest) as it pulls up behind you as you read the last message. A chill rolls down your spine.

trying to make me jealous? get in the car. bring your friend with you.

((OKAY I HAVE TO END THIS NOW BC ITS BEEN ROTTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR AGES BYE))

#mw2 #ghost/reader #ghost x reader #for all my tag following people: I;M SORRY. feel free to yell at me to write a part 2 where they all fuck.#starry writes #call of duty #cod fanfic #cod mw2

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sunghoonalter-archived · 2 years

Text

❣︎ ⎯⎯ temptation incarnate

Idol pairing: Jake x fem!reader

Genre: smut, church boy/girl au

Warnings: usage of maybe 4 pet names, fingering, sacrilege, inexperienced!reader, lots of kissing, semi-public sex (it's in a confessional), mild profanity, corruption kink.

Synopsis: what you thought was confessing your sinful thoughts of corrupting an innocent church boy to a priest turned out to be telling the boy himself you wanted him and him giving you what you want.

A/N: so hi ho! This just so happens to be my first (and probably last) smut I've written on here, so if it's shit I'm so sorry. Since this is my first, feedback is most definitely appreciated in any form, specifically rbs and comments!

Enjoy I guess!

You stood outside the confessional, wiping your hands down on your dress before finally entering. As you sat down, your hand immediately made its way to your forehead, giving it a gentle touch as your hand does the same to your lower chest, moving to your left shoulder and then your right.

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

You said, keeping your eyes on your lap. "I don't remember exactly how long it's been since my last confession." You closed your mouth, parting it so slightly. "My sins are," your voice was soft. "Shameful."

The mere thought of speaking them aloud made you afraid, fearing it would make it more real. A few weeks ago, you would never have thought such things but now they're all you could think about. Impure, disgusting thoughts that you can't find the words to confess.

But the man on the other side is patient. You know that the priest is there as he said only two words since you'd entered.

"Tell me."

His voice sounded.. different. He didn't sound like the priest you saw every Sunday, but you were too focused on your thoughts to notice. You two sat in silence as you finally found the courage to speak, knowing you needed to if you had any chance of forgiveness.

"For the past few weeks, I've had thoughts and dreams. Dreams so vivid they almost feel real. Repetitive thoughts all filled with nothing but impurity. Filled with nothing but one person."

You exhaled deeply. "I kneel before him as I would before God. I feel him on my skin and even taste him on my tongue. I ache when I think of him and feel so full when I dream of him. It's almost as if he's taken over me."

Your fingers clutched onto the hem of your dress as you continued to speak, feeling shame for saying such things to a man of God.

"I dream of turning him from a holy and pure soul into one with the sole purpose of filling me when I wake up empty from my dreams. I even try reenacting his touches in my thoughts to please myself, only to fail and leave me in more shame."

You stopped talking, holding onto your dress before you hear the priest speak, slightly surprised that you hadn't noticed the unfamiliar voice sooner.

"How does he touch you in your dreams?"

You blinked, not expecting to be asked that but you were told that priests asked all kinds of questions if they needed clarification on certain things.

"He touches me all over," you said, sounding smaller than when you entered. "He leaves a burning trail on my skin, touching wherever he can get his hands on. But I dream a lot of him.. uhm," you gulped.

"Of him?" The voice on the other side asked, beginning to sound distant, even a hint of a smirk in his tone.

"I dream of him touching me in the most intimate of ways, in the most intimate of places." You said softly, tensing up as you spoke. "And when I try doing it, it doesn't feel the same. If anything, it makes me think of him more."

It's at this point, your thighs are clenched together as you try to calm the ache coming from in between them. The fact that merely talking about it was causing this felt even more shameful.

"Every other offense is just as the other, they're never ending," you said to finish off. "I'm sorry for all of these, and all my sins."

The air was filled with silence when you finished. You couldn't even hear his breath or your own. You must've shamed him, you thought. Moments have gone by and he hasn't given guidance or even a prayer.

"Will you not absolve me, Father?" You sounded timid as you looked in the direction of the priest, who sounded as though he were shifting around.

Suddenly you heard the sliding door on the other side open and close. You blinked in confusion, wasn't he supposed to say something?

Your eyes stay glued to your lap as you fiddle with the hem of your dress.

"Do you think you deserve absolution?"

The voice caught your attention, eyes widening when you met eyes with its owner. Your lips were parted but you were too stunned to even think of anything to say.

There he stood, the very man of your dreams, leaning against the door frame of the booth. The one plaguing your thoughts since the day he first arrived.

His dark brown hair was neatly styled, dressed in his Sunday best. The soft candle light coming from behind him gave off a heavenly glow, as if an angel were standing before you. The embodiment of innocence and purity.

Yet the small smirk on his face should've been the first sign that the innocent little church boy you met a few weeks back was nothing more than a facade.

"From what you told me," he began as he took a seat next to you, closing the door behind him. "You're already on the road to not being worth saving."

Your thighs couldn't hold themselves together any tighter, his presence only made the ache worsen. The air around you was filled with his scent, your ears filled with the sound of his voice, your eyes focused on nothing but him. He was everywhere, there was no escaping your desire.

"I'm not," you managed to say softly. You were convinced that you could still be saved.

"Really?" He asked as he scooted closer. "Dreaming of turning this 'holy and pure' soul into something that'll fill you up whenever you want sounds a bit.. how do I say it?" He pretended to think. "Maybe.. indecent? Dirty? Slutty even?"

With every one of his words, your hands fought the urge to quiet him down. Until his last word when you practically leapt forward to hold your hand over his mouth.

"Shh, someone's gonna hear you!" You whisper-yelled, clutching his mouth shut to silence him, afraid of someone finding you together but mostly to stop his voice from affecting you even more.

You could feel him chuckling underneath your hand. You're sat with a confused expression as he slowly moved your hand away from his mouth.

"Princess, there's no one here." It was as if a mountain of butterflies escaped inside your stomach from the pet name. "It's just me and you here."

You couldn't help but wonder if you should be thankful as Jake moved even closer.

"You probably haven't even held hands with a boy let alone kissed one, have you?" His voice grew softer as he spoke with a gentle smile.

You shook your head. In all honesty, you were never allowed near the opposite sex so Jake’s proximity was already new to you.

"Can I?" He stuck his hand out.

You nodded slowly as you clutched onto his hand. "Congratulations, you're straying further from the shepherd, little lamb," he snickered.

This time, you moved closer to him. It was all so slow but so fast at the same time. You couldn't control your body anymore as it drew itself towards him.

"Can you kiss me?" It came out as a breathy whisper. "Please?"

"Well since you asked so nicely," he said as he brought his hand to your nape, pulling you gently towards him as he closed the gap between you two. The second his lips touched yours, it ignited the most satisfying of fires within you. He let go of your hand to place it on your waist, spreading the fires to wherever his hand moved.

He was patient with you, knowing you had no experience in kissing. It was almost cute to him how you sat completely still as he did all the work. But the small whine you let out when he pulled away was nothing short of adorable.

"Since it's obvious you don't know what you're doing," Jake smiled, trying to hide a snicker. "Just relax and follow my lead, okay?"

You nodded as you closed your eyes. You grasped onto his blazer as he dove back in, keeping his kiss slow and gentle. It all felt like a sin but his soft lips tasted like a dream.

He didn't bother hiding his hunger as he deepened the kiss, feeding on your innocent whimpers. You could feel his shit eating grin against your lips as your grip on his sleeves tightened to try holding back your moans of newfound pleasure.

He somehow deepened the kiss further, leaving you unable to breathe through the miniscule breaks he gave you. Your one hand stayed on his arm while the other shot up to his hair, softly gripping a handful.

The air grew thick and hot when he pulled away. He must've noticed your slightly louder protests as he let out a chuckle. You would much rather be suffocated by his sinfully sweet kiss than breathe the tense-filled air.

His hands made their way to your waist, giving it a little squeeze. One of his hands moves ever so slowly down your hip, stopping to rub small circles on it with his thumb.

Could he feel himself setting your body on fire? Was he waiting for you to say something? Did he want to keep listening to your laboured breaths knowing he caused it?

"Jake," you finally breathed out, grasping the hand on your hip.

"Yes, y/n?"

The way your name rolled off his tongue was too satisfying. You were too stuck in the moment, too stuck on him.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Hm," he smiled. "For a virgin, you're an eager little slut, huh?"

Your heart skipped a beat and you weren't sure if it was the name calling or his sickeningly sweet tone but all you knew was that you wanted to feel more, and you wanted him to do it.

"Please do something," you whined softly, parting your legs just a bit to try signalling him closer. "Please."

His eyes darted towards your shifting legs, looking back into your eyes. "You want me to touch you?"

You nodded, shifting a bit more in your seat.

"Just like in your dreams?" He asked, removing his hands from you. You give him a nod more frantic than the last. "Tell me, how exactly do I touch you?"

Jake’s eyes were focused on your hands, waiting for your demonstrations. You felt small under his intense gaze, not sure where to start.

"Uhm, well, you," you mumbled, holding your hands up, too shy to open your legs any further as you know you'd soak your already damp underwear, fearing it may even stain your safety shorts. You weren't sure how much came out of someone when they had temptation staring them down as if they were prey.

He tilted his head slightly, while amused by your shy behaviour, he couldn't help but feel impatient. "Come here," he patted his lap to which you immediately obey, snuggling your back against his chest.

"Take my hands, and show me how you dream of me," his tone grew strict with authority as he laid his hands palms down on your thighs. You hesitantly place your hands on his, slowly guiding them.

"One time, it was here," you push his hands towards your breasts. He pulled you closer, placing his chin on your shoulder. His hands stay where you placed them, giving your breasts a soft squeeze to which he receives a soft squeak in response.

"Like that?" He whispered in your ear, just adding to the shivers he sent through your body with every passing moment.

"Something like that, yeah," you breathed out before moving his hands lower down. He knew exactly where you were taking him, he just liked you telling him exactly what you wanted.

You'd led his hands back onto your thighs, shyness setting in once more before you courageously moved them towards the hem of your pretty white dress. "And here."

He placed a kiss on your shoulder as he moved his hands slowly up your dress himself. "Like this?"

You nodded quickly as you slowly sank into his chest, not able to feel his raging boner underneath you.

Once his hands reached the hem of your shorts, he stopped. "Take it off for me," he said. Your face burned from diffidence as you grew slightly insecure at the thought of him really touching you in the most intimate of places.

Regardless, you did as he said, lifting your hips slightly off his lap to tug your shorts down, shimmying them onto the floor. Your heart pounded as your bare thighs touched each other. It was really happening.

Jake pushed your knees apart, holding them in place with his own so you wouldn't shut your legs. He worked silently, moving his hand further up as the other stayed on your inner thigh with his thumb rubbing gentle circles on it.

You didn't know where to put your hands, keeping them close to your chest to stay out of his way. Small whimpers escaped your lips as his feather light touches made its way to the waistband of your underwear.

"You okay?" He asked, moving you into a new position, in his arms as if he were carrying you bridal style. He figured he'd better get a good angle of the pretty expressions you'd make when you came.

His hand slid back under your dress, his other arm holding you. His finger gently grazed over the damp spot of your underwear, gaining little whimpers from you as his leg managed to trap one of your legs, preventing you from closing them.

"Fuck," he breathed out. "So wet, and all because of me?"

You nodded, snuggling your head into the crook of his neck.

His hand slides into your panties, with his index finger sliding through your folds. Your louder whimpers were luckily muffled as you kept your head buried in his neck, clutching onto his shirt as his finger slid up and down.

His finger was coated in your arousal within seconds, taking his hand out to discard your underwear entirely. You felt yourself clenching on nothing as cold air brushed against your core from him lifting up your dress.

"Ready?" He looked at you, waiting for your answer. You nodded. "Yes," you whimpered as his finger hovered just above your entrance.

He continued moving lazily up and down, enjoying the light twitching of your thighs when he grazed your clit.

Everything about this was new to you. It never felt like anything when you tried it but the bare minimum already felt so good when he did it. But you grew impatient, wanting to urge him to do more.

"More, Jake, please," you mumbled as you tugged at his tie.

"Okay, my darling," he plopped a kiss on your cheek as he picked up his pace, pushing his finger down onto your clit as he rubbed circles on it. He wore a shit eating grin when you squirmed, grabbing onto his sleeve and letting out small uncontrollable moans into the crook of his neck. You were basically at his mercy, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

You were confused when he suddenly stopped, moving your head away from his neck to see if something was wrong, but he just held his finger up.

"Wanna taste yourself?" Jake asked, bringing his finger to your lips. You looked at him with uncertainty before opening your mouth, him pushing the digit inside and being sure to slide against your tongue.

It was an interesting taste to say the least, one you weren't sure you wanted to taste again. But he kept his finger in your mouth, thrusting it in and out to ensure you cleaned it. You parted your lips as he dragged his finger out with a noticeable string of saliva attached.

"And?" He asked as he moved his hand back to its rightful spot between your legs.

"It's okay," you muttered, licking your lips.

"Hm, lemme try," he said, using his other hand to push your head down, encapsulating your lips in another sweet kiss.

Yet it's short-lived once he switches to his middle finger, collecting more of your arousal as he deepened the kiss. But once he saw his opportunity, he slowly slid his finger inside your aching pussy, sliding his tongue into your mouth once you parted your lips to let out a groan.

You clutched onto his shoulders for what felt like dear life as his finger seemed to stutter. "You're so fucking tight," he hissed as he pulled away. You tried your best to relax, melting into his hold, keeping a slow and steady pace.

"Ahh!" You moaned into his neck once he curled his digit. Never before would you have thought a man's mere finger could bring you so much pleasure.

His pace quickened, giving you barely any time to adjust the new speed as he randomly curled his finger once more. He kept you squirming and whining, knuckles white from how harshly you clutched onto his sleeve.

"Hmmph!-" You crept further into his neck, trying to keep your sounds as soft as possible despite the squelching noises caused by his near mercilessly thrusting and the sound of his palm sma king against your core echoing against the walls of the confessional.

Not long after, he slowed down, giving your body enough to cool down before he gently pushed a second finger in.

"Fuck!" You cried into his shoulder, moving your hips slightly to keep the pace going, trying to ease the sting of the stretch. "Oh, God~"

"God's not here, angel," he muttered into your ear as he kept his fingers moving. "It's just you and me." But he gave you even less time to adjust, moving at his quickened pace again. "Touch yourself like I did," he commanded. You moved your head away from his neck, keeping your mouth shut to avoid any chance of someone hearing your erotic sounds, releasing his sleeve to try fulfilling his command.

You brought your index finger up to his mouth, with your other hand holding yours closed. He stuck his tongue out for you to collect his saliva, to which you slide your finger across it before bringing it down to your swollen clit, rubbing harsh circles on it.

It was all overwhelming: the pace of his fingers, the pace of yours, the thought of getting caught. Most importantly, that you were too far gone for any shred of forgiveness that there was no use asking for any.

You were no longer a child of God, but in all honesty you never were. The second you laid eyes on Jake those weeks ago, you were his.

Your climax began to build up faster than you'd anticipated, your body readying itself for the strong release even though you knew you weren't ready. "I'm, hmmph, I-" You tried to announce, just to give Jake the heads-up to slow down a bit but he only moves faster.

You didn't have enough time to move your head into his shoulder again, forced to throw your head back as silently as you could. Your mouth swung open as your climax finally hit, body convulsing in the most satisfying way.

It was hard to catch your breath, coming out as hoarse noises as Jake’s fingers began to slow down before halting. Your body felt weak in his hold. He'd pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching on air, almost saddened to be emptied and wanting nothing more than for him to fill you again.

He brought his hand up to his face, licking off your juices, wiping his hand off on his blazer. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, softly pushing you back onto the seat. You struggled to catch your breath as you watched him pat your legs dry with a handkerchief from his inside pocket.

He brought it up to your forehead, patting the sweat away. "What about you?" You mumbled.

"What about me?" He smiled as he fixed your hair.

"Don't you need to get off too?"

He snickered. "So fucked out and still worried about me, how cute." He helped put your underwear and shorts back on, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't worry about that now, let's just get you looking less like you were hit by a truck."

You let out a breathy laugh as he opened the door, picking you up and carrying you out of the booth. As nice as the fresh air of the chapel was, you'd rather bury your face in the crook of Jake's neck, breathing him in.

"So," he leaned in close to whisper.

"When are we doing this again?"

#enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen jake #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen jake smut #jake enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen oneshots

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qdbs-writes · 1 year

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can we get a headcanon on how the mortal kombat men react to learning their s/o is shang tsung's master piece/daughter from an AU?

hi, you didn't specify anyone im gonna do the characters i've written nothing for x

MK Lads Realising that S/O!Fem!Reader is Shang Tsung's Daughter/Creation

Jax Briggs

Poor Jax doesn't know until the two of you run into your creator, who greeted you with warm familiarity. Jax is like "You know each other?", to which Tsung replies "Of course, I know her, I'm her father." with far too much mirth in his voice.

Initially, he thinks this is some kind of sick prank, there's no way you, his beautiful s/o, could've been made by someone like Shang Tsung. But the shame in your eyes tells him all he needs to know.

Jax is wrapped by betrayal, but not entirely from you. He also feels as though he has betrayed himself and his own moral code by inadvertently involving himself with Shang Tsung's work.

By choosing to not come clean to Jax about your parentage, you'd sabotage the trust he thought you both had in each other. It's likely that Jax would want to call off the relationship until you could once again prove that you could be trusted.

Kano

Assuming your relationship with Kano began before he starts to work for Shang Tsung, then he'd probably have no idea until offhandedly mentions who he's working for.

You might say something like "Shang Tsung created me..." and Kano would respond "Fucks sake, he's your dad?" and then you have to be like "No, he created me... In a lab...".

Taking this news about as well as can be expected, Kano's only reaction is a casual nod of understanding and a little "Made in a lab, eh? Guess that's why you're so fit."

Needless to say, his next meeting with Tsung will be exceedingly awkward (multiply by a factor of 50 if you're there with him). I mean, how's Kano supposed to look Shang Tsung in the eyes knowing he's been aggressively shagging his boss's daughter?

Geras

Geras would 100% know that you were created by Shang Tsung, and he does not care. As far as he's concerned, Kronika has manufactured the timeline to ensure your creation so that you and him could be together.

The only issue I could see Geras having is that your father doesn't necessarily want to follow Kronika, and even when he does, Tsung has betrayed her in almost every timeline. So there's probably some contention there.

But I don't think Geras would hold any of your father's actions against you. As payment for his loyalty, Kronika has guaranteed him the most ideal partner who could ever exist, you, which is a pretty hard price to beat.

#could've sworn that i did something just like this before #and was gonna link it here but i cant find it for the life of me #if anyone knows what im talking about but idk maybe i imagined it #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat headcanons #jax briggs #jax briggs x reader #kano #kano x reader #geras #geras x reader #qdbs writing #shang tsung

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jujitto · 11 months

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. . . . . . . . . 한 번 뿐인 것 ★ o n e t i m e t h i n g

p a i r i n g s :: park sunghoon x reader

g e n r e :: angst

w a r n i n g :: not proofread, mentions of situationship

w / c :: 1.7K

You two weren't together. But you weren't friends either. Your relationship was complicated. No one could understand what you guys were not even yourselves. You guys hugged, kissed, and hung out as a couple would but you guys weren't a couple. You guys just had something going on but everyone would question what you guys were and even yourself would question what you were doing with him. You didn't understand or remember how you got involved with him.

It just happened. Though it was only supposed to be a one-time thing. It was never supposed to happen again. You kissed. It was a one-time thing. But when it became something more. The whole one-time thing went down the drain. It was just supposed to be a one-time thing. And you told him that it was supposed to be a one-time thing. But it never was a one-time thing. It just kept happening over and over. And that wasn't something one-time things were supposed to do. One time things were easy for you. They didn't involve feelings or the emotion people called love. It was just something that you didn't want.

They were just simple. But this wasn't a one-time thing and it never was going to be one. The sound of whispers and hush conversations disrupted the peace you felt as you walked down the hallway of the place you would soon be leaving. High school. Usually, you wouldn't pay any of these people any mind but their whispers confused you. Though you continued walking as if they didn't bother you to your locker only to be met with the familiar face of your best friend. Jiyoon stood there with a look of uncertainty written on her face only to wipe it away when she spotted you walking her way. You could tell that the smile on her face was fake.

You knew that the whispers and the way she looked had to be for the same reason. It seemed as if everyone knew something but you. 'Before you say anything. I didn't know. No one knew until this morning.' Jiyoon spoke as you gave her a confused look. No one knew what. Just what in the world was she talking about? 'What?' You questioned not paying her any mind as you rummaged through your locker trying to get your textbooks. You can hear her rambling something about dating and you not being mad. 'About Sunghoon. You haven't heard. Maybe that's why you're acting so nonchalant.' She guessed as you shrugged your shoulders. Whatever he had going on wasn't your problem. Why should you care?

'So what you're saying is that you're cool with him dating someone else?' Her words made you stop in your tracks. Dating? Was that what was wrong with him? For the last few weeks, you have noticed something was up with him but you never really thought to ask him because his business was his business and you weren't someone special who could just ask questions about what he was doing in his day-to-day life. Though deep down inside you was a bit hurt. 'Why should I care whom he dates and whom he doesn't date? It's his life.' You spoke looking at Jiyoon who nodded but still had a look of uncertainty on her face.

'But don't you guys have something going on? I mean you are always together.' She questioned as you narrowed your eyes at her. You guessed what she was saying was true. But you two had nothing going on. You weren't a couple nor were you, friends. You guys had what you would call a situation-ship going on so to say. But it wasn't anyone's business what you two were or were doing. 'We are nothing. Our relationship is nothing. That's that.' You stated turning on your heels and walking away. Though the words came out of your mouth they still hurt. You told yourself multiple times that it was a one-time thing but you just kept coming back for it. Now, look at you. Feelings hurt because he's with somebody else who isn't you. What a shame.

You hoped he was happy. Because whatever you guys had going on was about to end. No more kissing, hugging, or going out. No more of this situation ship you had going on. No more! It was all too good to be true. His hands are on your waist. Your butt is pressed against the steering wheel of the car. Lips pressed against each other as hands roam. The windows fogged up. The surrounding area was empty except for the car you were occupying. The bright neon sign of the roller skating rink flashed illuminating the cramped space of the car.

You should be disappointed in yourself. You said no more. But here you were kissing him in his car with his hands all over you. But you just couldn't stop, could you? That's why your feelings are hurt because you couldn't stay away from him. However, you could feel the intensity in the air as your lips locked with his. It was a mixture of desire, longing, and a tinge of sadness. Deep down, you knew that this would be the last time, the final act of this complicated dance you had been engaged in. But at this moment, you allowed yourself to drown in the intoxication of his touch, the familiarity that had become both comforting and devastating.

As his hands explored your body, every nerve ending came alive, craving his touch even though your mind screamed at you to stop. The physical connection you shared was undeniable, but it was the emotional entanglement that had you questioning everything. What were you doing with him? What were you to each other?

You broke away from the kiss, your breathing heavy as you tried to gather your thoughts. The car felt suffocating, and the weight of your emotions threatened to consume you. With a trembling voice, you finally mustered the courage to speak.

"We can't keep doing this," you said, your voice laced with a mix of resignation and sadness.

He looked at you, his eyes reflecting a combination of desire and confusion. His hand, which had been caressing your cheek, dropped to his side. He knew exactly what you were referring to, but he remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

"We're only hurting ourselves," you continued, your voice shaking. "We're not together, but we're not just friends either. It's been so confusing, and I can't handle it anymore. I thought I could, but I can't."

He sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair, his gaze fixed on anything but you. The atmosphere in the car shifted, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. You waited for him to respond, but the silence between you grew more suffocating with each passing second.

Finally, he spoke, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and resentment. "Then why are we here?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. The question hung in the air, heavy with implications and the weight of your shared history. It was a question you had asked yourself countless times, but hearing it from him felt different.

"I don't know," you replied honestly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know why we keep coming back to this, even though it's tearing us apart. Maybe it's because we're afraid of losing what we have, even if it's not clearly defined."

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze still averted, his face etched with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "I get it but I don't want to get it. What's wrong with what we have going on?" You took a moment to gather your thoughts, searching for the right words to convey the storm of emotions swirling inside you. Your heart ached as you met his gaze, seeing the longing and confusion mirrored in his eyes.

"Y'know what's wrong with us." you said, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and aching. "You have somebody. You hell we both knew this shouldn't have been more than a one-time thing."

His expression hardened at your words, and a flicker of anger, flashed across his face. It was a painful truth that neither of you could deny any longer. "You don't think I know that. Every time I think I'm done with whatever this is.....I find myself back here with you. Kissing you, making love to you and never regretting it. But somehow I feel as though I messed it up somehow. It's greedy of me to want you when I have someone else," he continued, his voice tinged with self-reproach. "I can't keep hurting her like this, and I can't keep hurting myself either."

A heavy silence settled in the car as his words hung in the air. The truth of the situation weighed heavily on both of you, casting a shadow over the intense connection you shared. It was a bittersweet realization that what you had was not sustainable or fair to anyone involved.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to gently touch his hand, seeking solace in the final moments of this bittersweet encounter. "I don't want to hurt anymore either," you said, your voice filled with raw emotion. "We deserve better than this, and it's time for both of us to find that."

With that, you leaned in for one last lingering kiss, a farewell to the passion and longing that had defined your complicated connection. It was a farewell to what could have been but never was, and a farewell to the pain and confusion that had consumed you both.

As you pulled away, you mustered a weak smile, hoping to convey a sense of acceptance and closure. "Take care of yourself," you said softly. "And maybe, one day, we'll find the happiness we've been searching for."

He nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You too," he whispered. With a heavy heart, you opened the car door and stepped out into the night, leaving behind the echoes of what could have been. As you walked away, you couldn't help but wonder if this was truly the end. The end of a one time thing.

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gold-rhine · 10 months

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You ever think the Itto we get in events isn't the Itto from his story quest? Little things that feel real ooc like him stealing from his friends or that dumb drum. The only time after that I felt This Is Itto was during Heizou's hangout. Godteir hangout btw. I love him to bits but man does it hurt a little. They're also missing a golden opportunity with his blue oni bro that doesn't exist anymore I guess.

oh 100%, i am so salty about Itto writing. I think that like, no joke he is one of the hardest characters in genshin to handle writing wise, bc while outwardly comedic and goofy, he is also incredibly kind and empathetic AND has an unbreakable spine when it comes to protecting people. He has tragic backstory! He has themes about minority in-fighting, refusing to assimilate and radical compassion! He's a hard balance to keep, and he was written incredibly in his own story quest, but I feel like when random hoyo writers who mb don't have a tight understanding of his character write him, they just do the comedic bit or fail to write him as multi-dimensional even when trying

like on my prev blog I was ranting at length how hoyo fucked up Itto's writing in chasm event. And I recently replayed it and like... you can SEE how they tried and failed! You can SEE how some writer had the characterization notes for Itto, but just couldn't make him come to life. like they OOC-ed him into a clown for most the quest, then they had a bit where he steps up during xiao and yelan's argument about how xiao wants to sacrifice himself, but instead of arguing against self-sacrifice, smth that he did VERY coherently in his own story quest, he just punches the wall and passes out. And then kuki explains that like Itto hates seeing ppl harm themselves, and that he has his heroic moments to help others and like. why IS SHE TELLING THIS. Why didn't you just SHOW us with Itto's own words and actions?? Like you can see them reading character notes and failing to dramatize them. Such a shame for real.

tho speaking of events, i think the ghosts event where he immediately adopted three yokai kids was good

but also yeah, Heizou hangout was absolutely top tier, and Itto was on point and absolute joy every second he was on screen. I miss him too, when will Good Itto Characterization come back from the war

#rhine talks #arataki itto

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waffelteufel · 8 months

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I think I vastly prefer Early Access Wyll. Some thots under the cut.

In the released game he is very much the knight in shining armour, the one who will always do good and is pretty much the fairytale romance. Now that's not a problem per se, but I struggle to stay engaged in such a story, when that is never challenged in some way? He really has no internal conflict and stays the same character from start to end.

In the game, Wyll is very much a passive observer. He doesn't really have any agency in the game, as Tav is making all the choices for him, and I find that to be such a damn shame. There is like one moment in the game (when he gets the horns) where we can see his image faltering for a bit, but then it is kind of never mentioned again? I wanted to see how that moment influenced him, if he was struggling because of what people saw in him, you know? Get to know him on a deep level!

Why does he have such a hero complex? Why does he need to save everyone? It would have been such a cool thing if his storyline involved him becoming so self-sacrificing out of compulsion, that it started to destroy him. What if his quest could end with him destroying himself out of his need to protect everyone vs Him finally being a little bit more "selfish" and saving himself instead (I feel like his last choice sorta went into that direction, but the execution was awful)? What if he saved his father and his father still rejected him, was still acting like an asshole, etc.? You cannot save everyone, you cannot always win, people will not always love you. That would have been a rad narrative imo.

Early Access Wyll felt different. He was flawed, he wanted to be seen as a hero, but he was very much not. He would even lie about it, to seem more heroic to you! EA Wyll wanted to become the Blade of Frontiers, but he was pretty far from being one. Some people didn't like that in EA, because they felt like he was a sham. And like? Isn't that exactly what's so fascinating? Like if you didn't let him get his (good) way, Wyll would actually snap at you and get really nasty! He'd call you a wretch!! In EA, the reason he was missing an eye was because of a goblin raid in the past. You then had the possibility to torture/kill or even let Wyll do that to the responsible goblin in the goblin camp, and Wyll was honestly really on board with that revenge trip. It's like a flip would switch, and his mask came off and you saw how bitter he actually was underneath.

I wanted an arc for him where we could help him grow away from that bitterness, or (when evil) help him embrace the more egoistical aspect. Or a middle ground, I dunno. The road to hell is paved with good intentions - THAT'S what I assumed his story was supposed to be.

Mizora is also in this weird limbo that feels rewritten like hell. Originally she tricked him into a pact by offering him the power to repell the goblin horde. Now she is... Whatever she is now, I guess. Maybe that whole thing would have been more cohesive if Raphael had been his patron instead? He could have guided us towards Raphael as a way out of the tadpole mess and at the end there could have been a choice between him delivering the crown to Raphael, or him sticking with us instead. I don't know, I just feel like it would have been much more cohesive somehow? But Mizora has been slobbering all over him in the marketing art, so I guess changing that would have been odd LMAO.

This is him in EA by the way (gosh I miss his old voice so much) explaining his pact:

youtube

As he is right now, Wyll's intent is the story just isn't clear to me at all? There is this common theme of self-sacrifice in there, but it's not here nor there and I cannot find it really compelling especially in contrast to other really well-written arcs like Astarion's or Shadowheart. Like there just isn't any internal conflict and I don't see him changing towards a version of himself that makes me go "Wow! What a character!" . I wonder if that has to do with his re-write, because it feels really rushed and the pacing and tension is super off. It makes me sad for the story we never got to experience, cuz some people couldn't imagine that there was more to his story than Early Access showed us. EA criticism towards him in general felt overally critical and dramatic and to me it always smelled of racism. People would legit talk about him like he was the most questionable evil character ever for not being who he claimed to be, it was so fucking odd. :/

I love Wyll! I am sad he got the short stick, man.

#wyll ravengard #Baldur's Gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #i talk sometimes

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supahstarrr · 3 months

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Tier List ☆ DRA edition! WARNING, long reasons below + borderline analysis of characters; and these are just my opinions! If you'd like to talk to me about these opinions, discuss stuff, and/or how I interpret a character (positive or negative ways) then going to my askbox is an option.

Rei Mekaru (Favorite) ― I was shocked she managed to be extremely likeable despite her heavy inspiration being my least favorite DR antagonist (*ahem* Byakuya). One of the noticeable and favorite things about her is how she is such a clever example of the "uptight smart supportive character who doesn't tell you answers right away" because it works so well with her ultimate title! She's an ultimate professor—commonly professors & teachers purposely guide you towards the answers as you'll be more able to comprehend it when you take the steps towards understanding the answer, it's a teaching method. On the surface it's more of a small yet clever detail, although it really helps you understand one of the big parts of her character, give weight to her actions, and keep her grounded to some extend.. which is why I'm so damn infatuated with this detail. To get deeper with it, her background also explains why she is attracted to teaching as a profession and her guidance; for a big section of her life as a child, she had to guide herself, which helped her understand the need and how to guide others.

Her obsession with competence is interesting in this case. While Byakuya's stemmed heavily from privilege, hers doesn't. It is particularly based off of her the skills that she had to develop on her own, which is her version of "competence." She analyze her background, thought her family didn't have the skills she developed on her own, and almost completely discredited them as an actual family. It's interesting and tragic to me; her obsession with competence is such a huge habit stemming from her looking at her background with child-like eyes. She appear obsessive and stuck because I mean, she's attached to this "competence" concept she built up from the lack of skills needed to comprehend a situation (since she was a child) and trauma, and used as a tool for survival (to shield her mental state, to be more clear) and as her power. It's just a really huge reminder that she's just, you know, young and lack some experience.

Everything just make so sense with her, she is so good written goddammit!!! Also, an underappreciated skill of hers is her creative skills! I mean this is an underappreciated skill when it comes to a variety of The Smart characters, but anyways— her intelligence also connects to creative skills, which is what she uses in the trials! It's a typical thing for creativity to interconnect with analytical skills, adding onto how smart a character is. A huge example of this creativity of her (or as what people describe, "thinking out of the box") is when she guessed the casts' memories were altered quite early! I love her analytical skills in general, though I love it even more when it connects to creativity :).

Although she's my favorite, I can't deny that sometimes I did want to smack her, and I do believe the way she spoke to others is something to dislike or criticize (even if "that's the point"). What particularly should be criticized is she spoke to Kizuna was... odd to say and was leaning to very internalized misogyny territory. The slut shaming when it came to Kizuna was just so wrong. I'm alright with "bitch" being said sometimes, but it feels more wrong when it's paired up with slut shaming. I definitely doubt that most fangan developers have misogyny in mind when it comes to developing how women in their art view the world, although it would make sense if misogyny also contributed to her obsession with competence! Which is something I find quite interesting.

Too many paragraphs I'm sorry, but I'll say this one thing. I also like how she appears more grounded than Byakuya. I have to say... although I'm saying this more loosely since I haven't watched DR1 in a while... I DEFINITELY prefer Rei over Byakuya...

Kanata Inori (Favorite) ― Not every character I like or my favorites has to be very good written. Love her lots, although I admit that she doesn't have that much depth & traits to her and that's alright honestly! She has a background which is fine with me, and it's just. What I love about her is how she suffered through a tragic event, someone in her life expressed kindness, and now she just has genuine love for caring about others. It's simple really, and I think that it's an admirable thing when it comes to characters and people in general. The quirks is what really make her more likeable to me; sometimes she's appears cryptic (especially in FTEs) and and it's quite amusing— it's interesting how far she's overly obsessed with germs to the point of walking around with socks and slippers. She's a character that sure can give comfort in a world where many doctors & surgeons mainly care more about money more than other people's safety

Teruya Otori (Like) ― Let me say, I didn't expect there to be two "Funny coward" characters and I expected this one to die the MOST.

I regret what I said... am so sorry Teru... Although, I am definitely fine with him not dying!!! He is kind of an interesting eccentric, weird, kind of funny guy with some charm to him. It's interesting that he's The Funny one while also being the realist at the same time, plus him becoming more hypocritical and selfish the more the game goes on it makes him appear more grounded. I do like that he has the guts to display his interest in fashion even if the fashion is "questionable." Though I feel like this desire to express himself knowing it's "questionable" and unique is used to his advantage to stand out. So if anything, it almost appears as if he has this constant need to stand out more than it being an example of confidence. Why to do this— why do he prioritize standing out? Most likely because he's conditioned to most of his life revolving about selling something— he travels for something to be sold, his father (a figure he's dependent on) sells, and he's been taught for something to sell you need to stand out (his father even suggested the hairstyle, because he claims standing out leads to more money). In fact, most of his memory involve something to be sold (he want to be memorized to sell goods, and he mainly memorize when goods are involved).

It's interesting too since most of his identity is dependent on him standing out because his identity is dependent on selling something and being useful. It's kind of sadder when I think about it more- he reduces himself to being a "resource" and something useful to an extent, rejecting his humanity to an extent. Other than being in a life or death situation, him not being useful and a "resource" would heavily to tie him breaking, because of his identity literally depending on those things. This ties to what I like about how he's portrayed in the game; which is how even when he wants to be remembered to sell something, to be useful, and to be a resource, it's not what he's remembered by. He's remembered by his personality, all what makes him charming and all the flaws to him. I think for his character it's... good for him to have his dumb moments and not always be useful, because it's good that he's allowed to have his identity to not be dependent on something he's conditioned by, which is a harmful thing.

Other than that, what's one of the most odd thing to me is his relationship with his father. I mean like, this guy sleeps in bed with his father, typically unusual for a teen/young adult who values privacy (which is very important at that age range), it's definitely not just a "close relationship with his father" as what some people frame it as, its more like dependence. His mother's fate is unknown, but it could be a good assumption that he's dependent on his father because he doesn't want to lose him too? This could also connect to why he ties himself to goods and further support his identity revolving around things being sold since while losing something, you gain something. As a bonus thing, he won't have to worry about goods (objects) being sold, because he'll have less of an attachment to losing them since he's conditioned to it just being business after all.

He's been caught in the capitalism beams.

Akane Taira (Like) ― Right off the bat, I can say didn't expect her to be more expressive with her concerns and disagreements, more blunt, more expressive with her negative emotions, more open with interrupting the trials, and more open with the idea of smacking people. Those are interesting traits of her that you wouldn't really expect in a maid, but when you know the extra lore of the game and that she's surrounded by others who will allow her to express herself more, it makes sense. Although stuck in a passive role, she's actually pretty good at bringing guidance to others, which is probably one of the best traits of hers. She's such a warm character that turns out to be tragic, obsessive, more stoic, colder, and numb as a defense from all she's been through. I'd say this behavior is more presented when we get flashbacks of her, and it's only not too presented in the main game because of some memories she's lost.

The twist of her being an ultimate despair was wayyy more unexpecting than Yuki being one. Yet it's a twist that is completely understandable- with this despair, she attempts to romanticize the role of being a dehumanized specimen than being human, in order to cope with hiding the many parts of her, the horrid treatment she goes through, being used, and with life in general. Almost, she twists dehumanization as her "freedom" because she "reclaims" it as her own. This despair fails at giving her true happiness in the end, as her being dehumanized contributes to her trauma and she still needs to hide parts of her self to navigate the despair world; and the attempts at feeling more "alive" through putting others in danger and/or mimicking others (to an extent; like mimicking Junko & Monokuma's mannerisms + energy) doesn't help the issue of not being able to reclaim her own livelihood and happiness.

Mikako Kurokawa (Slightly Like) ― Though we didn't see too much of her traits and her full extent of self expression because it's canonically limited (which is well, okay I guess...), she is shown to be empathetic and analytical—which is one of my favorite parts about her character. Her determination is admirable, even when she feels so much pain she has shown that she is willing to go out to help others, act as a contributor, and tries to tell more about the lore of the game. She's a fighter at heart, and I feel like it's an underappreciated part of her. I do like how her talent is more of a metaphor than a profession itself, as she analyzes the truth of people's character or their "inner demons" (as the wiki puts it). Her talkative side was very revealing of her and give you more insight to her other than that she's talkative. With her background full of trauma and abandonment, yet full of characters who adopt her into a family, we can see this influencing her friendly & talkative behavior in the flashbacks. It's a beautiful thing that she was influenced so positively and decided to give that positivity to others :)

Kinji Uehara (Slightly Like) ― I was really pleased that there's a religious character that doesn't force their beliefs onto others, and is more open-minded about other people's religions or the lack of beliefs. He faced abandonment as a child then was adopted, most definitely influencing his love for giving to others (especially children) and that's such a great part of him. It's genuinely such a difficult thing that he felt like he had no other options to kill just to free children who were probably dead. It's an interesting thing, with him acting out in interest of freeing others while also with some selfishness as well, although he has kind intentions he's definitely not the most innocent (although yeah, I can understand his selfishness since he felt like he hardly had any other choice). He's a reserved, king of awkward guy and that's something quite endearing to me and at times funny. It seems as if he's always been put into adult-like roles throughout his life, by constantly watching and caring for the children. Other than appearing "more mature" than most of the cast, he does seem to have more experience comparing to the most of the cast, as he travels and tend to many personalities (because he cares for many children. Which means he is open to more experience and lessons than the rest of the cast, and can also explain why he's open-minded. Yeah, I think he's pretty decent.

Kizuna Tomori (Almost Neutral) ― She's an interesting character, not only she's very self aware of all her wrongdoings, but she observes what the world value about women & girls to use it to her advantage. She gains power and attempts to fulfill her psychological needs by "reclaiming" the perspectives forced onto her—the perspectives that only value and acknowledge her conventional attractiveness over intelligence. Now, as much as its portrayed as if she's irredeemable and to an extent "faking" her loneliness, the FTEs shows her loneliness. I do think she has the potential to redeem herself, it's just that the killing game wasn't a good place for her to do that.

Ayame Hatano (Almost Neutral) ― I gotta be honest, she was one of those almost-forgettable characters to me. Though I really do love that there was an emotional connection so impactful to her, that it heavily influenced the her killing someone- and to mention, some selfishness also influenced her. She's definitely not a saint. She's also more stoic, awkward and blunt at times, yet in the end of the day, she does have some kind intentions and those are all the things cool about her.

Satsuki Iranami (Almost Neutral) ― Her appearing so detached about the killing game was one of the worst and best traits of her, though yeah I get it, her funny detachment moments was a coping mechanism and an attempt at making others cope with the situation all at once. Although not the most remarkable character to me (and is more closer to being mediocre) she's another who is considerate of others. She's one of the characters with the most purest intentions out of anyone else. I also do enjoy her unpredictability, and I have to say, I do wish that she was more expanded on. She had her wise moment in Chapter 4, yet this "wisdom" trait is never expanded on, like ever, and it appears that it's intentionally said by her in order for her death to have more impact... so it feels more "random" than a trait of her, which is a little disappointing to me.

Kakeru Yamaguchi (Almost Neutral) ― Good god his character is just so disappointing, and it's all thanks to the developer limiting themself because he thought 4 "smart supportive characters" would be too much... despite the fact being a lawyer can be many things. I do like that he shows his confidence in the trials (even in a way that's more obnoxious), because lawyers depend on how they appear and say stuff than actually depending on the truth, which is what some people just don't get. Wolfgang is a better executed example of a lawyer not being stuck in the "smart supportive character" role. Although he's nice, willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of others, and that's sweet.

Kiyoka Maki (Almost Neutral) ― I'm sorry man but like she's one of the top characters that were very forgettable to me. She's sweet, supportive, wishes to be a normal girl, and that's really all say that I can say about her. I like that she's the more sweet & sociable type, and I have to say it's interesting that she attempts at getting others to cope with the situation they're in while also appearing ignorant of the situation in the process.

Yuki Maeda/Utsuro (Almost Neutral) ― He's okay I guess. I do like that the game shows him slowly and slowly building up the constant despair he's feeling to the point he chooses the "despair route" in canon, which was almost an expecting choice while managing to be impactful in a bitter way. He's (for the most part) an average guy and other than his whole lore—which I guess you can argue its Utsuro's lore since Yuki and Utsuro are considered seperate identities—Yuki is kind of good when it comes to supporting other's emotions, which isn't the most "average guy" thing ever. Even when Yuki chooses despair, Yuki also chooses hope, which is an interesting thing showing how strong-willed he can be. Also, him considering Mitch a "friend" was pretty annoying of him, even knowing what Mitch did... *eye roll*.

I find Utsuro interesting and his background neat. The way he was dehumanized in life also lead him to the person he is now. Despite all the selfishness and cruelty and dehumanizing others, he does slightly care about others. I like that the "bigger" mastermind ended up with some depth to him, and he wasn't painted as completely evil. I do want to say that prefer the "luck" thing being more ambiguous than an actual thing that exists in canon.

Yamato Kisaragi (Neutral) ― Good god this man is so fucking plain. He was the important character I guess. Which I mean, I'd prefer Mikako having more importance over him, but it's cool I guess. I wish his character would've been... expanded more. He doesn't give as much impact as the story wants me to.

Haruhiko Kobashikawa (Dislike) ― Him invading a space for women solely to sexualize them and then bringing up a DEAD woman's name when talking about peeking on the girls having a bath together killed him for me. People like to downplay this stuff, but I really don't think people should be desensitized to that kind of stuff. He appears aware that he shouldn't really be doing this shit, which makes it worse to me. Other than that, I did find him funny at times. It also was almost ridiculous how he was so quick to decide that Satsuki was his lover and stuff, I'm just going to think that he had a small crush on her and them the memories made it even bigger, I guess. Mans risked it all and that's okay I guess. Also, the way he wanted to suggest doing some creep type shit while he had a girlfriend in the flashbacks. while you had a GIRLFRIEND??? Good god...

Tsurugi Kinjo (Dislike) ― As much as he's a decent antagonist... his character in general... he just seems normal? Which isn't a bad thing that he reflects what's "normal", but I kind of get annoyed with people comparing him to Nagito, because he's kind of a normal cop. Dragging and adding to his words to feel important while expressing that he don't want to improve the system and he'll use his authority to make no actual good progress... manipulating people by using his authority (his "duty to protect everyone", his judgement as a cop) to cause more division while also causing distrust in the process because he claims "if you don't believe in him you're a criminal.........." Then he use people's need to to not be divided as an advantage to trap people in his clutches even if the people technically don't fully believe him. Cop stuff. Of course he'd fall into his mindset at the end because he was never fully out of it in the first place and he's been conditioned at a young age... and I mean, let's be honest, a lot of people in real life will tolerate the things he does as a cop (ex: manipulation) and his mindset. Thus it'll encourage him to continue... being him. I don't hate him but I sure do like to tease him. Decent written character though, I'll say that. I just don't like his character that much.

Mitsuhiro Higa (Dislike) ― There's not much to him. I mean he's a cocky ass and I'm definitely sure that he feels supported by the power he has due to fame to act terrible. He had his nice moments in the flashbacks but I mean. Terrible people can still be nice sometimes. I don't hate him though, and even I dislike him while not giving much that much thought.

THATS IT. I'M FINALLY FUCKING DONE!!! goddamn this took long.

#sunny's thoughts #sunny talks about dra #dra thoughts

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