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cupid-styles · 6 months

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the pact

surprise!!! y'all seem to be LOVING the ymls blurbs so here's a lil something!!!!!!! hope you all enjoy :)

word count: 1.1k

content warnings: pregnancy

read the original blurb here | ymls masterlist

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. . .

Y/N is in that annoying headspace where she can't tell if she's fallen asleep yet when her phone starts buzzing on her nightstand.

Groaning, she sits up slightly and bats her eyelashes open. She doesn't look at who's calling as she haphazardly reaches out for her phone, pressing the green answer button.

"Hasn't anyone told you you're not supposed to wake a sleeping pregnant woman?" she grumbles into the receiver. Somehow, she's not surprised when she hears Harry's husky laughter on the other side. She squints at the bright screen in the darkness of her bedroom, the time reading 1:37 a.m.

"I have a question for you," he says and she huffs, propping her back up against the array of pillows behind her. Since developing a small bump, sleeping has been unexpectedly irritating — she normally prefers falling asleep on her stomach, but it's kind of impossible with her rounded tummy.

(Besides, one time Harry yelled at her for it, saying he didn't want her to smush the baby. She called him an idiot, explaining that was literally impossible, but he still sent her about six different articles on why you shouldn't sleep on your stomach while pregnant.)

"This couldn't wait until tomorrow? Or sent through a text, maybe?"

"No. I can't sleep and it seemed pretty dire, to be honest."

"Fine," she mutters, "What's your question, Harry?"

"Do you see yourself ever getting married?"

Y/N nearly chokes on her own saliva, annoyance steadily building in her chest.

"Seriously? You want to talk about marriage at 1:30 in the morning?"

"Just answer the question, please."

She sighs, allowing her eyes to shut. Realistically, this is never how she expected her life to go. She assumed, like any other person, that she'd meet someone nice, marry them, start a life with them — she didn't anticipate her first child being brought into the world via a one night stand with someone she didn't even like all that much.

"I don't know," she eventually answers. "I used to, yeah. But I don't know anymore."

"Would you want to get married?"

"Is this you proposing?" she fires back, a stroke of panic firing through her, "Because the answer is no."

"I'm not proposing, Y/N."

"Can you get on with it then? I want to go back to sleep."

There's some shuffling in the background, followed by a deep breath. She wants to roll her eyes but she's too tired.

"Okay. What if, when we're like 40, and if we're both single, we get married?" he asks, making her eyes widen, "Personally, I've always wanted some type of life partner and I'd like to make it official at some point. And I assume dating will be harder for us when the baby's born. And I saw it on Friends, Chandler and Monica talk about making this kind of pact—"

"A marriage pact." Y/N says flatly, "Yes, I've heard of it before."

"Right."

"And you want to make one with me."

"Yeah."

"Harry," Y/N sighs, shifting onto her side and curling up to the pregnancy pillow he bought her last week, "Harry, you're you. I have no doubt that you'll be able to find a husband or a wife or whoever you wanna spend the rest of your life with."

He goes silent at that as she rolls her lips into a thin line. She’s not typically so candid with him, so she blames it on her tiredness. Sure, the only reason why she and Harry know anything about one another is because of the pregnancy. The one thing she did know about him before was that he was a free lover — he put himself out there, he was vulnerable, and he almost always charmed someone into his bed by the end of the night. It was the thing that irked her most about him, but she was self-aware enough to know that it annoyed her because it was her downfall. Her discomfort with expressing romantic emotions, her consistently stormy demeanor — she wasn’t blind to it all.

So, it’s true: She doesn’t doubt Harry will eventually find the true love of his life, but she also doesn’t believe she should subject him to a life with her. They're complete opposites; she imagines a marriage between them would be unsatisfactory on his end.

Based on the jostling in the background, she can imagine the way he's probably flipped onto his stomach, his body tucked into some of the most comfortable sheets and blankets Y/N has ever felt.

(Reluctantly, she asked him a few weeks back where he got them from, and two days later, there was a package on her doorstep from the same retailer. When she demanded to know why he'd spent so much money on a new bedding set for her, he gave her a reasoning along the lines of, "you're carrying my baby, I'm allowed to treat you to things.")

"Okay, but what if I don't? Statistically speaking, I'm sure it's much harder to date as a dad."

"Sure, maybe," Y/N replies, "But that's when co-parenting comes in handy, right? I can always take the baby when you have dates or whatever."

"Don't you think it'll get messy, though?" Harry presses and she smushes her face into her pillow, "Like, what if one of us dates someone that doesn't like our dynamic or gets jealous?"

"Then they're probably not a good partner and we shouldn't date them."

He sighs into the receiver. "Okay, yeah. You're right. Sorry for calling this late, do you still want me to pick you up at noon for the checkup tomorrow?"

She can tell how defeated he is by the drop in his tone and, whether she wants to admit it or not, it makes her heart crack just a little bit. And even though she doesn't know why she says it — she doesn't have enough time to unpack it — she does, and she can't take it back. (She knows Harry will never let her forget it, anyway.)

"Noon is still good," she says, "And... if it really makes you feel better, we can have a marriage pact, Harry."

"Really?"

She rolls her eyes, "Yes. If we're both single at 40, we'll get married. Okay?"

"Are you just saying that because you're annoyed by me?"

"Yes and no. Do you agree or not?"

"Yeah. I agree."

“Okay.”

Harry’s silent on the other line. She tucks her hand under her head, tangling her legs under the blanket he bought her.

“Can I go back to sleep now?”

He clears his throat, “Yeah. Sorry for waking you up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Mhm,” she murmurs, wedging her thumbnail between her teeth, “For the record, regardless of our situation or not, anyone who dates you would be stupid not to wanna be with you forever.”

It’s probably the most truthful and sincere thing she’s ever admitted to him, but something about his vulnerability and insecurity strikes a cord in her.

When he doesn’t immediately reply, she wishes she could eat her words; positive that she’s made him uncomfortable. What a stupid thing to say, he probably thinks I likes him now—

"Thank you," he finally replies and her heart softens at his earnest tone, "Just... thank you. I appreciate that."

"Sure." Y/N mutters. "I'm gonna sleep now."

"Okay. Goodnight, Y/N, sleep well."

Her stomach flutters with butterflies and she doesn't know why. She shakes her head to herself and mumbles out a goodnight, hoping she can manage a dreamless night that doesn't consist of Harry being her husband.

Ugh, she thinks to herself, he's so stupid.

#writing #Harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #ymls concept #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #one direction #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fic rec

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midnightsnyx · 8 months

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what if i told you (i love you) part 3 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller!fem reader

chapter summary: with Joel and Ellie still in Jackson, you try to navigate your confusing feelings towards Joel. warnings: small mentions of violence, angst, fluff, swearing I think. let me know if i missed anything please! also this isn't edited at all. if you know tlou and wanna beta this story, that would be lovely <3 word count: 3k masterlist series masterpost ask box tag list form

authors note: thought I abandoned this story? same. so it's been a hot minute, and I'm not sure if anyone is still interested in this story but it's been in the back of my mind and then 3k words poured out of me at work today. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you like it anyways. I'll tag the people who asked, but I know it's been MONTHS so if you want to be removed from the tag list, send me a message and if you want to be added to the list, fill out this form. if you've got any questions, comments or thoughts, my ask box is here or just leave a comment in the notes:). thanks for reading, like & hit that reblog button if you enjoy it🩵

When Jack was first born, you went through a rough time. You were a new mom in a post-apocalyptic world and still trying to get over the betrayal you felt from Joel. You spent many nights at the kitchen table with Maria or Avery, crying or sitting in silence and feeling numb. The hardest nights were when you missed him, because that meant feeling weak and you hated letting yourself feel like you needed him.

Your task of avoiding him during his stay in Jackson is becoming particularly difficult because of the duckling you seem to have acquired. Ellie trails after you nearly anywhere you and Jack go and Joel has no intention of letting Ellie out of his sight for longer than a few hours. A small part of you is jealous that he seems to see the girl as a daughter when he wouldn’t even accept Jack but you can’t blame her, so you let her tag along while pretending Joel isn’t always hovering in the background like a mother hen. During movie night, you seat Jack with Ellie and go stand in the back with the adults. Brad, one of the men around your age immediately comes over and tries to strike up a conversation with you. He’s nice enough, and not hard on the eyes but you never really let yourself make time for dating. You have your hands full with your kid so you just smile politely but entertain him, listening to him talk about going on patrol but tune him out when he begins bragging about taking out a pack of clickers. You know his story isn’t true because Avery was on the same patrol as him and told you when the clickers showed up, he hid while everyone else took care of it.

At some point, you can feel a pair of eyes on you and immediately you know who it is without having to look. You’re trying to ignore it but his eyes feel like they’re burning a hole in your head so you turn to look and as you do, he quickly walks out of the building. You don’t know what comes over you, but you excuse yourself from your conversation with Brad and follow Joel outside. He didn’t go far, you find him leaning against the wall near the door a few feet away, arms crossed and deep in thought. It’s close to impossible to sneak up on him unless he’s feeling safe or is with someone he trusts. You’re apparently neither anymore because his head shoots up as soon as you get close.

He stares at you, mouth opening and closes a few times before he looks back at the ground and scuffing his boot in the dirt. You’ve no idea why you even followed him out here in the first place and after a few more seconds of silence, you start to head back inside but his voice stops you just as it did a few nights ago. He still has this invisible hold on you and you can’t understand why.

“Sarah,” he mumbles so quietly you wouldn’t have heard it if it wasn’t silent outside. “Her name was Sarah and she was my entire world and she’s gone.”

Tommy had admitted to you on one of your bad nights while he and Maria were trying to comfort you that Joel had lost a daughter. You’d put two and two together after Tommy made the memorial with Maria’s late son and the name Sarah who you knew was neither of theirs.

“Yeah,” you whisper, hating the ache in your chest you feel for him. You can’t imagine losing Jack but you don’t know if you can accept what he is insinuating. You can hear him walk towards you and you fight the urge to leave because as much as you don’t want to be around him, this is the first time he’s opened up to you.

“I thought it’d be replacin’ her,” he mumbles and you realize he means Jack. That accepting another child would mean replacing his late daughter.

You turn around to find him closer than you were expecting and take a step backwards, almost toppling backwards but his arms reach out and catch you. He doesn’t let go immediately, hands firm and steady gripping your arms exactly how you remember. For a moment, neither of you move. It’s as if you’re in a trance and it only breaks when the door flies open and Jack comes running out the door with Ellie chasing after him.

You pull away from Joel, picking up Jack when he reaches for you.

“Mama! The movie’s over,” he says and then frowns. “You were gone.”

“I came out for some fresh air.”

He grumbles and tucks his face in the crook of your neck. “‘S cold,”

You’re about to respond when Joel shrugs his thick brown jacket off and drapes it over Jack but it’s big enough that it covers you as well.

You mumble a quiet thanks, ignoring the curious look Ellie gives you both and bid goodbye to the both of them, promising the girl that you would see her tomorrow.

It was inevitable, you realize, sitting at the table listening to Jack tell Joel and Ellie a story you’d told him too often.

“And-and then the Prince saved the Princess from a huge monster who’s teeth go click click click and then they went to Fred and Bob’s house for dinner!”

You can feel Joel’s eyes on you the entire time Jack is telling them the story. He’s clearly piecing together that this isn’t just some made up story you told your son but a kid-friendly version of something that happened between you and Joel. It was shortly before you left Boston, Joel and yourself going to Bill and Franks for something. You’d been distracted because it was just after you found out you were pregnant and hadn’t told anyone yet and you turned your back for a split second while you were in the wrong place and nearly torn apart by a clicker. Joel had been furious, saying you needed to be more careful but he couldn’t have been that mad because after lecturing you for ten minutes, he’d pinned you against a tree and kissed you until you couldn’t remember your name.

It was one of the last times he had kissed you before you told him you were pregnant and then left Boston.

“Quite a story,” Joel says, looking at Jack who proudly smiles at the older man's comment. “Does the Princess have a name?”

Jack gives you a curious look and when you don’t say anything, he shrugs and looks back at Joel.

“Mama never said.”

Ellie snickers quietly, obviously also realizing that the story is based on actual events. Joel gives her a look but she doesn’t back down despite his glare. She leans towards Jack and grins.

“Do you have any more stories about the Prince and Princess?”

Simultaneously, you and Joel both say “no” a little too loudly which earns the two of you some looks.

“I think it’s time for someone to go to school,” you say, standing up and offering your hand to Jack who grumbles but climbs off his chair and requests to be picked up by you rather than walk. You know you’re probably babying him but he’s growing too quick and soon he won’t want to be carried around by his mom so you’re cherishing every moment.

You chance a look at Joel before you leave and he’s wearing the softest expression you’ve probably ever seen on him and it makes your stomach do somersaults and cheeks warm. It’s probably a bad idea, no it’s definitely a bad idea but when it comes to Joel Miller, you always made bad choices.

“You guys can walk with us if you’d like,” you say and Ellie is out of her chair before you even finish the sentence. Joel looks a little more hesitant but he still doesn’t like going far without the girl in his sight so he follows the three of you outside.

Of course by the time you get to the small school Jackson has, Jack is more than happy to go in and play with his friends. He gives you, Ellie, and a startled Joel hugs before running inside without looking back. You’re grateful that you have a place here where Jack can have as close to a normal childhood one can have in this world. You can’t imagine if you’d stayed in Boston what kind of upbringing he would’ve had. You certainly don’t miss it there, aside from the nights you missed Joel which were far and few in between up until he showed up here. The reason he’s here is still unclear although you have a suspicion Tommy knows more than what he’s told you and even Maria. The length of Joel and Ellie’s stay is also not known. You were expecting them to just need to stop and get supplies before continuing their journey but they’re still here and you have no idea when they’ll be leaving.

You’re not sure what possessed you to invite Joel and Ellie to your little house for dinner but here you are, chopping vegetables to make soup. Jack is still at school and the soup will take time to cook but Ellie insisted on helping you prepare it and Joel said he needed to go see Tommy. It’s kind of nice to have company even if it’s in the form of a fourteen year old. Said fourteen year old has been awfully quiet the past twenty minutes and you can tell she’s wanting to ask you something but is stopping herself.

“Go ahead,” you eventually say, tired of her silence.

“Joel is Jack’s dad, isn’t he?”

You’re so tempted to say no, only for the fact that she obviously looks up to Joel and you don’t know who she would look at as the bad guy. And honestly is the best policy, right?

“Yeah,” you tell her, noticing when her shoulders deflate.

She’s quiet for another five minutes before asking, “Did Joel tell you to leave?”

You’re quick to answer this question because as wrong as what Joel did was, it was your decision to leave Boston and you don’t want to put some wedge between them.

“No, I left because I wanted a better life for Jack.” It’s not a complete lie, Joel is part of why you left but you really did want a better life for your son than what he would’ve had in Boston.

“Alright,” she eventually says and then: “Can you pass me another carrot?”

And that’s that. You both chat about random things, she tells you some terrible puns and you buckle and reluctantly tell her some more stories of when you, Joel and Tess lived in Boston. She tells you that Joel won’t talk about Tess and she feels guilty about her death. You listen quietly, letting her spill out things she must have been holding in knowing Joel didn’t want to hear it.

“I knew Tess really well,” you tell her. “She wouldn’t have done what she did if she didn’t think it was worth it.”

Ellie looks at you hesitantly. “Yeah?”

You nod and she smiles a little before asking if she can come with you to pick up Jack, but you tell her that Avery is going to pick him up and drop him here. Since you’ve got some quiet time, you decide to do some cleaning while Ellie goes to the house she and Joel have been staying at to take a shower.

It’s a couple hours later when there’s a knock on your door and you’re figuring it’s Avery with Jack so when you open the door, you almost drop the broom you’re holding when you see Joel standing in front of you and Jack in his arms. You start to ask why Joel has Jack and where Avery is when you see the woman in question standing at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile on her face.

“We, uh, ran into Mr. Miller on our way here and Jack insisted that he come with us,” she explains but you can’t stop looking at the duo in front of you. Jack is smiling, arms wrapped around Joel’s neck and telling him a story but Joel is watching you warily, like he’s expecting you to yell or something.

“Hi mama,” Jack says but makes no move to leave Joel’s arms. In fact, he looks very pleased that the older man is carrying him.

“Hi baby,” you reply, unsure what to do. You don’t want to upset Jack by taking him from Joel but you can’t tell if the latter is uncomfortable. Avery, sensing the tension, smiles brightly and waves awkwardly.

“I gotta go feed Lucy,” she says, already walking backwards. “See ya, Jack!”

Jack shouts goodbye to Avery and you finally snap out of your stupor, stepping back to let Joel walk inside. He toes off his boots and you’re about to offer to take his jacket when you realize he’s not wearing one because you never gave him it back last night.

“Dinner smells good,” he says, following you to the living room where Jack finally wriggles out of Joel’s arms but only to get a toy to show him.

“Look Mr. Miller,” the boy says, offering a wooden train that you gave him for his birthday. An older gentleman in the town made it for you after hearing Jack talking about how much he loved looking at pictures of trains.

“That’s a really nice train,” Joel compliments, sitting down on the couch. Jack immediately climbs up and settles down next to him, chatting about the toy and you watch as Joel listens intently, nodding at the right times and you remember that he’s done this before, it may have been twenty years ago, but he’s dealt with an excited almost five-year-old.

The front door opening and closing tears your attention away from them and you look to find Ellie walking towards you, shrugging off her jacket. She lays it on the rocking chair and then plops down next to Jack, shooting you a small smile. There’s something in her expression that is sadder than when she left and you wonder if something happened since she left but you don’t bother asking her now. Instead, you go set the table and check the soup to make sure it’s done before calling everyone to the kitchen. Jack makes sure his chair is as close to Joel’s as he can get it so he can keep talking to him.

You have heavily conflicted feelings about the relationship growing between them. On one hand, it’s kind of nice that Jack is getting to know his dad, even if he doesn’t know Joel is his father. On the other hand, if you let Jack get too attached to Joel, it’ll break his heart when he and Ellie leave. So, you decide tonight after Jack is gone to bed and Ellie goes home, you’ll sit Joel down and ask him why he’s here and when he’s leaving.

Of course that doesn’t happen because Ellie and Jack pass out on the sofa after reading every children's book you own and you and Joel end up sitting at the table, drinking some liquor Maria had given you that you never got around to drinking. You’re not drunk, but you’re tipsy enough that you feel relaxed around Joel and laugh at whatever he’s saying. It almost feels like Boston, when the days were so long and dark that all you wanted to do was sit and drink with him and eventually wind up in bed together.

Except now, you’ve got two kids who are sleeping in the living room and no intention of going to bed with him. Well, maybe if you let yourself have a few more glasses and if there weren’t kids in the other room but that’s just the alcohol in your system making you think things you shouldn’t.

“Do you remember when Frank asked how long we’d been dating?” He asks and you snort at the memory. You didn’t know at the time why Frank would even think that since you and Joel had been bickering the entire time you were at dinner, and Tess had to tell the two of you to knock it off multiple times. She had choked on her water when you asked why Frank thought you were dating and he said that it was because the two of you reminded him of Bill and himself.

“Yeah, Tess nearly choked because she was laughing when we simultaneously shouted no and then Bill caught us making out behind his house,” you say, smiling behind a sip of your drink. He doesn’t react to you saying Tess’s name and just shakes his head with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. He tilts his head a little so he’s looking at you and not the ceiling.

“If I thought it covered the pain I caused you, I’d say sorry,” he says quietly and a little broken.

You look away, swallowing loudly. “Well, sorry would be a start.”

You don’t say that you’re not sure if you can forgive him, even if he did say sorry. Even if he knelt in front of you and begged, you’re not sure if you could push past the last five years. Every night you spent sobbing into your pillow in Boston while you waited for him to come back after you told him you were pregnant. Every bad night you had here in Jackson, thinking of why he did it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly, like it’s a secret.

Blinking back tears, you clear your throat and nod. “Thank you.”

Thank you but I can’t forgive you, goes unsaid. But a little voice in the back of your mind whispers, I can't forgive you yet and you can’t help but believe it a little bit.

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#allies writing #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel miller reader insert

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sevicia · 2 months

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My parents were talking about my sister getting a job and like, my dad's always agaisnt nearly every single job ever because it's "dangerous", and my mom was telling him like "everything's dangerous these days! you just want her to stay here forever?" and then asked him if he'd let my sister move to another city, because that's what SHE did, and he said NO. And my mom went "Well, I'd let her! Oh, I wouldn't let Dante do it though. He's too innocent! But his sister has a lot more common sense, so she'd be OK"

Like this is just how my life is now. I'm too stupid and naive to do any "big" or "dangerous" things alone, and I should only ever try when someone else is around to "help" me by getting exasperated and treating me badly whenever I make a "mistake" (AKA don't do it the exact way they want me to). But I'm also old enough that I should know better and know how to do all these "common sense" things that no one ever taught me, and the fact that I still don't know how to do them at my age makes me feel so fucking useless and ashamed that I barely even wanna try learning anymore. There's always gonna be someone to do it for me anyways because I'm so stupid and clueless and useless and obviously can't figure anything out by myself.

I hate trying new things, because if I try to do them by myself and fail I get told "See? You DO need help! I'm not letting you do this alone anymore!", and if I do them right suddenly it's just not that big of a deal and I should've been able to do that AGES ago, and if I ask for help and start asking for clarifications/clearer instructions they get angry at me because "it's SO OBVIOUS, are you PRETENDING to be stupid?"

I'm trying SO hard to not hate myself for not having done most of the things a lot of people my age have already done/learned but it seems impossible because like. Why am I so stupid? Why am I so useless? Why am I so naive why am I so slow why am I so far behind???

I only started to feel like I had actual consciousness about two, MAYBE three years ago, and whenever I realize I learned something new or FINALLY figured something out I feel so happy! But I can't tell anyone IRL because I don't wanna get called stupid.

And it just makes me so incredibly miserable to think that I won't be able to move out til I'm like 30 or maybe EVER, that I'm just gonna be here forever, always too slow and useless to do anything to get out. I want to live by myself and to do things that I WANT to do and to stop feeling this deep deep shame about my own stupidity but it just doesn't even seem plausible right now, and the worst part is that it's all my fault for being an idiot but most importantly for being compliant and always too scared to protest.

#everyone says that life is not a race or that you only really start living later or whatever #but I genuinely have to wonder like. what had those people done at my age. how '''''slow''''' have their lives been.#I just want to be able to DO things by myself without the constant debilitating fear of doing them wrong #diary #and I'm so angry at myself and I can't complain because I'll just get told #''Well why didn't you stand up for yourself?! Just say something! You're whining when you didn't even try?!''#which is something I HAVE been told before multiple times and I don't even know how to explain it #because there is no explanation I'm just THAT fucking stupid #long post

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yurisorcerer · 3 months

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God.

OK. So, this requires a little context. In a Discord server I'm in, they're groupwatching every KyoAni show. Starting today, they got to Haruhi Suzumiya and are going to be watching an episode per day until we finish it. I'm not gonna write about every single episode of this show---I've seen it several times at this point so while I have a fair bit to say about most episodes it's just a lot of effort for a series I don't think many people here on tumblr specifically care about anymore---I do wanna write about this one

because, like can you fucking IMAGINE opening an anime like this in 2024? It'd be impossible. When an anime in the present day wants to make a big impact it'll go for laser focus, trying to present its absolute best foot forward, or a grandiose overlength premiere like Oshi no Ko or Frieren or something. The idea of opening your anime with *this* is just....I mean, even at the time it was baffling. I watched Haruhi a couple years after it aired and I remember being SO confused. What was this? Why is the first episode of this show---a show that aired deliberately out of order, by the way. I'm calling it the first episode here but if you're going by DVD order it's one of the last---some weird, deliberately bad student film that has a snarky narrator CinemaSins-ing over top of it?

The short answer is just that from the very beginning, the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with its audience. Haruhi herself, as we'll learn in upcoming episodes, is kind of a really unpleasant person before eventually getting better. And I'm not going to claim that this show invented the idea of having your title character be a complete jackoff---it did not---but at the very least, it felt new at the time. (Contrast that to nowadays where every two-bit isekai has a total fuckboy who you're clearly supposed to love from episode 1 anyway.) So the first episode is kind of a....I hate this term, but almost a troll move I guess? More than anything, it's supposed to be *confusing.*

Improbably, this worked, and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya became, for both better and worse, one of the defining anime of its era. It's been nearly 20 years and I have no idea how this happened.

Some amount can probably be attributable to the charisma of Haruhi herself---she sucks, but she makes an *impression*---but none of that is really present here since she doesn't show up until the end of the episode for the big mic drop moment, a moment where we get slightly more of an idea of what this show even actually is.

I think honestly the charm of the deliberately bad film might have been a factor. The thing is completely nonsensical; we have Mikuru running around in a bunny outfit doing plugs for random local businesses while vying for the affection of Itsuki. Itskuki himself plays a character best described as "on-screen" and "present." Mikuru's big rival both in love and for the fate of the Earth (?!?!) is Yuki, who wears a fucking awesome witch hat throughout most of the episode. At one point, in scenes that seemed utterly baffling without the context that later episodes would provide, Mikuru's eye appears to actually change color and fire a beam from it, and Shamisen the cat talks like a person. This shit was weird! Even at the time.

Also the bit where she fires a gun and goes "aaaah!" as the recoil gets out of control is still funny to me 16 years later. Many things about me have changed since I first watched this show but apparently my sense of humor isn't one of them.

Haruhi Suzumiya as a series is really important to me in that it was one of the first things I watched that was REALLY OBVIOUSLY "anime." There wasn't the plausible deniability you got with something that aired on Toonami (and thus was visible to anyone with cable TV) or one of the common entry-level access points like Cowboy Bebop or such, which are considered classics not just of their medium but of their *genre* and thus didn't carry the same stigma. The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya is an anime-ass anime, with its bunnygirl outfits and improbable high school antics and psychic powers and aliens and yadda yadda. When I first started watching the series I was vaguely embarrassed about my interest in Japanese cartoons, by the time I'd finished it, I had an actual fucking SOS Brigade patch on my jacket. No less a figure than Tatsuki Fujimoto said that the series was responsible for turning his generation into otaku, and, anecdotally, he's pretty much right about that; most otaku I know of my age had a Haruhi phase at some point. (That's part of why Aya Hirano playing Makima in the Chainsaw Man stage play was such a big deal. It's not just that she's an incredible actress---although she is---that's fucking Haruhi playing Makima, man.)

Its success is also partly responsible for the light novel adaptation hellscape we now live in, so I'm not going to shy away from criticizing it either. Right off the bat there's a really uncomfortable kind of semi-"ironic" sexualization of Mikuru, helpfully lampshaded by Kyon as the film's narrator. This does not let up at any point throughout the show and is probably the worst thing about the series (although it doesn't reach its nadir for a while, if I recall). I'm not a fan.

Other than that element, I think as far as first episodes go, I wouldn't mind if more shows went back to this approach. There's something to be said for just baffling your audience into submission.

#the melancholy of haruhi suzumiya #yurisorcerer talks about media #yurisorcerer rewatches haruhi #<-this gets its own tag

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queen-scribbles · 2 years

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Alliance Commander Ask

tagged by @callavia(thank you!), just gonna open tag if anyone wants to do it :)

1) Who’s your Alliance Commander? What class are they? Alignment? Random other facts you wanna share?

Tiiiiime for canon #2, aka my beautiful avocado girl Vica Nerai. Fully LS Consular Shadow(added Sage when she got a second class). Loves Theron, Crete the Manka cat, and hot chocolate.

2) What’s a reason or two you like that this character is your Commander?

She has the patience of a saint and is nearly impossible to rile, makes her an extremely good diplomat and calming presence for an Alliance full of former enemies.

3) What’s a reason or two you don’t like about them being Commander?

She feels obligated to solve all the galaxy’s problems (even without being asked) and has trouble taking a break and letting other people Save the Day™ so she doesn’t burn out.

4) Why did this character of all your OCs become Commander?

Equal parts bc she romanced Theron so I had to take her through SoR etc and bc I think she makes a damn good Commander.

5) Who did they side with? Did they stay loyal or go saboteur? Or maybe you headcanon they defect properly?

Republic all the way, baby. 😎 She did keep the Alliance independent; she’s too happy with/proud of what she’s built, and she doesn’t like how (relatively) easy it was for the Republic to fall under the sway of a de facto dictator(Saresh). Just bc Rans seems friendly and down to earth and all that doesn’t mean that danger is gone.

6) Are there any NPC’s from the class stories you’d like to see/HC join the Alliance? Ex: Master Timmns, Ardun Kothe, Watcher One, etc.

Aside from the ones I mentioned for Tel, Attros Finn, Chance, Crysta’s daughter(CANNOT remember her name to save my life rn), Beryl Thorne, Agent Galen, a couple of the Masters from Consular Act 1(maybe Tykan and Sidonie?), Master O’a.

7) How’s your OC feeling about the current Malgus situation?

She’s genuinely hoping it’s done, he’s beaten and not going to be a problem anymore. But they thought that after he was defeated(and supposedly killed) over Ilum*, and she’s all too familiar with the penchant powerful Sith have for coming back. There’s a small part of her, a part of her that’s very tired but still too Jedi to kill a “defenseless” prisoner that hopes if he tries anything again in the future he fights to the death.

*she did not handle the Ilum arc, so she heard Malgus was dead but wasn’t present to see it

8) Are any of your other OC’s part of the Alliance? If yes, what do they do for the Alliance? Do they get along with your Commander?

Yep. Her canon also has Briyoni(Trooper, the one to handle Ilum), who is her younger sister, for sure and tentatively: Eliyis(Inquisitor), Khii Mera(Smuggler), Deira,(also smuggler) and Qhora(Knight)

9) How does your OC feel about Odessen?

She loves it. With the strength of her connection to the Force, she’s very in tune with the balanced state of the planet and it gives her a sense of peace aside from that one valley that was the stuff of nightmares. She also thinks it’s a beautiful place, very scenic, and enjoys being tucked away from the rest of the galaxy.

10) How does your Commander feel about being the Commander?

It’s exhausting but she thrives on being able to help, to do things to make the galaxy better, so she loves it. Even if she is constantly tired and it has brought almost as much strife as joy. She’s a workaholic who doesn’t realize she’s a workaholic half the time bc she’s wrapped in the guise of people need me.

11) Favorite place in the Alliance base?

Her quarters, snuggled up on the couch with a hot drink, her Spy Husband, and a datapad she’ll more than likely fall asleep reading.

12) Favorite mission in KotFE?

I’m always going to love Disavowed more than anything, but Vica, as would be expected, loves ch 9 bc not only does she get reunited with Theron and officially start a relationship with him, it’s more heavily centered on the talking/personality/diplomacy things that are right up her wheelhouse. She can fight, she’s a badass(Kinetic Combat FTW), but she is a diplomat at heart, so stuff like interpersonal relationships is where she’s happiest.

13) Favorite mission in KotET?

Ch 4/5 bc it’s exploring a whole new world(even if that world is trying to kill her and all her friends, it’s still fascinating), with technology and such that they’ve never seen before.

14) Least favorite mission in either? Why?

Toss up between ch 12 and 15 in KotFE for her and ch 7 in KotET. She really hates Valkorion’s little “You’re not listening to me :(” getaway, but that Eternal Fleet ship was just awful (aside from getting to see Tai again, that’s was pretty neat). And again, with how strong she’s tied to the Force, Nathema was oppressive for her. It felt like a combination of being on the verge of throwing up and that dullness to your senses of recovering from a flashbang.

15) Is your Commander successful because they’re skilled? Or are they perhaps just really lucky?

In her case, honestly, I say as a biased parent talking about a favorite child, I’m pretty sure it’s all skill.

16) From our OC’s point of view, SoR -> KotET wasn’t a fun experience, did they develop any fears as a result?

People thinking she doesn’t have the galaxy’s best interests at heart. She spends years bending over backwards to help everyone she can however she can, so the whole thing in the Fractured Alliances arc with there being people who actually think she doesn’t care is awful and makes her worry there are others who feel the same way, that can’t have been all of them on Nathema.

17) AU time! If your Commander wasn’t Commander, which of your other OCs would have likely taken their place?

Assuming all the tentative characters stay in her canon, probably Qhora. Maybe Eliyis. I have some headcanon things for Bry where I need her to not be the Outlander for them to work.

18) Who’s someone your Commander hopes they never have to deal with again?

Aside from Valkorion? Kaliyo, Novo, Terrak Morhage, SCORPIO, Saresh, Atrius (the joys of being 100% LS; she didn’t kill anyone she was given the option to, no matter how awful they are, so she has a longer list of “never wanna deal with them again” than some)

19) Does your Commander hold on to/still use any titles they earned before KotET?

Oh, she still holds onto Barsen’thor. That one’s very tied to her identity as a Jedi and a defender of the good in the galaxy. She views it differently now; as an achievement and honor rather than a duty, but it’s still important.

20) Share something, anything at all, you want about your Commander that you’ve not really gotten the chance to share before but really want to.

She out of all my Theronmancers panicked the most at the end of Nathema Conspiracy bc she’s the only one with Z E R O healing abilities. Jaaide’s an Operative, Sha’reii’s a Sorc, Khii’s a Scoundrel. Vica’s a Shadow, she’s a tank, a defender, not a healer. (Or, well, wasn’t. Why do you think she wanted Sage for her second combat style?) So she, who has buried her identity and worth in her ability to help, was helpless in the face of losing the man she loved, and it was not fun.

She plays the vioflute and would say she’s a tad rusty right now, but she’s still good.

#tagged #vica nerai

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poppy-metal · 3 years

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"The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.”

A/N: im placing this before the sexual side of their relationship begins. A prelude of sorts, if you will.

Cw: voyeurism, smut, dekus secretly dirty mouth.

All things considered izuku’s room was...not as gross as you expected a staple college aged guys dorm room to be. It was cluttered but not disgusting, posters of comics and figurines and manga and some clothes strewn about, everything kind of frenzied and haphazard. It was so incredibly deku, a secret smile pulled at your lips, even though your reasons for being here were less than innocent

He’s wearing fucking pink. Because of course he is, of course izuku is humble and comfortable in his masculinity enough to pull off a bright pink t-shirt. It hugs his chest too, and you have to wonder if literally any of his clothes fit him and the tits he decided to grow in college. His image is so utterly imposing, his smile so bright, and laugh so airy, it sends butterflies flipping through your stomach at just the sight of him and that makes you want to vomit. Your lips curl in a sneer and you’re walking towards him and the group of friends he’s talking to as if on reflex.

Stupid, lovely deku. You knock your shoulder into his as you pass, hard enough that his books clatter and fall to the floor, scattering. And then those green eyes are on you, giving you his attention and your body feels alive, your blood cells buzzing under your skin even as he frowns. The dimples on his freckled face fall as he takes you in. Yes, you think, look at me, see me, want me.

Out loud you say. “Watch where you’re going, stupid deku” and you’re looking at him like he’s the dirt under your shoe. He’s not. He’s the center of your universe. Your world tilts around his axis. “Pink isn’t your fucking color by the way”. it is.

Izuku huffs. He’s past the point where he used to turn as red as a tomato and duck his head whenever you stood in front of him, but he’s still deku at the end of the day. An easy target. “If looking at me bothers you so much you could just ignore me.” He crouches down to pick up his things. His words make you itch, if you could ignore him, you wouldn’t fucking be here. Its because he exists too much, that you want to push him down so much.

You step your manicured foot onto his notebook right as he’s about to grab it. He tugs at it, you dont budge, and he looks up at you, exasperated. “Can i have my notebook, please?”

Why is he so fucking pretty? God, you want to throw up. You dig your heel in further, covering the flutter you feel in your chest with a practiced sneer. “I like the way you say please, deku.” You lean down a little, “Say ‘your highness’ and i’ll move”

It’s a thrill, seeing the way his jaw sets, his brow furrows, his eyes go annoyed. Sweet, sweet, friendly izuku. You’re the only one he looks at like this, like he wants to throttle you. But he won’t. You see his adams apple bob, his cheeks dust pink, even as he glares. “No”

You pause. It’s not the first time he’s gotten snippy with you, but the conviction behind it is new. You feel something in your stomach give a jump, your blood thrumming in your ears. You jerk your foot towards you, sliding his notebook out from his hands and standing completely on top of it with both your feet now. Your sticky lips, glossy and plump, spread into a mocking grin, “No? Do i need to slam you into some lockers and take you lunch money?” You feel a thousand feet tall, towering above him still kneeling, you on the high ground, looking down at him below you, where he can’t reach you. Can’t ever see the truth. “C’mon pansy, you’re already on your knees anyway”

But he isn’t anymore. He jerks to a stand, and now he’s taller than you, but you puff your chest out, not letting that affect you. It always affects you. Not that he knows or ever notices. Your eyes are widening when he steps forward so you’re practically nose to nose and chest to chest. “I don’t have time for you” he snaps, irritated. And then he’s stepping away as suddenly as he stepped up, the rest of his things gathered in his arms, he shakes his head at you, a tendril of that mossy mousey hair falling into his eyes. “I gotta get to class”

And then he’s gone, brushing by you, disengaging. You stand there, your breath stuck in your chest, not moving. ‘I dont have time for you’ over and over again rings through your head like a mantra. You step off his notebook robotically and kick it across the floor. It bangs against a wall and you feel your fists clench, nail beds digging into your palms harshly. ‘I dont have time for you’

You turn on your heel, away from the direction of your class, fury blinding you. Anger in place of humiliation, vindication in place of being humbled. You don’t know what crawled up his ass and made him think he was above you all the sudden, but you weren’t having it, not the fuck at all.

And that’s how you found yourself snooping through izukus dorm, with the intention of finding some kind of dirt, or something to hold over his stupid head. He didn’t have time for you? How dare he act like he was better than you, like he had things more important to do than to indulge you. You were still so mad you wanted to throw a tantrum, kick and scream and claw his eyes out. Straddle his stupid broad waist and shake him until all he saw was you, you, you.

You really hated him. Hated that because of him you were basically a bully because any attention from him was attention you thrived and lived under. Maybe if you weren’t so prideful, so disgusted by the weakness of your own gooey emotions for him, you would have tried to be the center of his attention in a nicer way, but as it was you were in too deep. This was the sick game you played, and losing wasn’t an option.

You hated how much that made you similar to bakugou in a way. You didn’t like that guy, and even weirdly so, you wanted to gouge his fucking eyes out for the way he treated and talked to izuku. Was it jealousy or possesivness that drove you to want to be the only one who could rile izuku? You wondered, sometimes, if bakugou felt the same way about you.

It was the loss of control, for you. Better yet, it was the way you liked the loss of that control. You had always prided yourself on being strong willed and a perfectionist. But whenever your eyes so much as grazed izukus, all your emotions went rattling around your stomach in sick twisted ways, giving you goosebumps, making you...nervous. It was a crush that had turned into an obsession, wasn’t it? And you wanted to make izuku suffer not only for invoking those messy feelings, but for not seeming to return them as well. If he couldn’t love you or want you romantically or sexually, you’d force yourself onto his radar and into his head until thinking about anyone else was impossible. Until you squirmed under his skin as much as he squirmed under yours.

Acting like you didnt exist was unacceptable. Obviously you’d slacked off on your taunts and actions, if he could just brush past you so easily, not taking your bait. You needed to even the playing field again, and by even you meant you needed to be towering above him again.

Towering over him so you dont have the time to think about how much you want to be under him, your mind whispers at you as you pick through his room, trying to find anything incripting. Someone like izuku would probably have something utterly embarrassing like a diary or some weird porn magazines, shameless, helpless guy that he was.

You huff as you open his drawer next to his bedside, nearly slamming it back shut in shock at what you see there.

You’re not stupid. You’re a healthy, young woman with an active sexual imagination and access to the world wide web, to porn.

Izuku has a fleshlight in his drawer. Izuku has a sexytoy. Izuku. And its green.

Izuku has a sex toy that he probably uses. That he probably sticks his cock into and moves-

An absurd laugh barks out of you, shocked and helpless. Because while in your head you knew izuku had to be some kind pervert, what other explanation was there for the way he blushed and darted his gaze around like a ping pong ball whenever you leaned forward and get caught a glimpse under your blouse, this is...unexpected. Imagining izuku in explicit scenarios, doing lewd things, it was something you didn’t allow your mind to wonder to often over. You didn’t like the way you got all squirmy and meek whenever you thought too long about izuku without clothes.

You feel kind of squirmy now, hot and uncomfortable as you shift around and try to gather your wits back about you. Revenge, that’s what you’re here for.

With a shaky exhale you turn away from his dresser, your thoughts flitting around your head like annoying gnats. What, who, does he think about when he…? What does he look like? What does his...c- You shake your head, slap your cheeks, trying to center yourself from the images floating around, flustering you and distracting you.

You’re in the middle of lifting the covers on his bed to peek under it, see if there’s anything there, when you hear the handle on his door jiggle. You freeze, every muscle in your body locked frozen like a deer in headlights as the knob twists, and then catches. Right. You’d picked the lock with one of your hair clips and then made sure to lock it again behind you just in case something like this happened. And by the, “Ugh” on the other side of the door, yep that’s definitely izuku. You’re shoved out of your shocked state, and bolting for his closet door as you hear the jingle of his keys twist in the lock, trying your best to close the door as quietly as possible behind you, it swishing shut barely a second before the door to his dorm opens and you hear him step in.

Class must have let out early or something, you think huffily, gently rearranging yourself into a comfortable position on a pile of his clothes as he shuffles around his room. You hear the thumb of him dropping his books, the shuffle of his feet, the clutter of him taking off his shoes and the squeak of his mattress as he plops down on it.

You tuck your knees to your chest and roll your eyes, picking at your leggings as you wonder how long you’ll have to hide before he goes to the bathroom or something so you can leave. It’s fucking stuffy in his closet already, the air hot. Your hand touches the soft fabric beneath you, realizing you’re sitting on one of his hoodies. Its too dark to see which one it is, but you imagine it as your favorite red one. Maybe you’d steal it as compensation for him making you sit and wait in his dumb closet while he probably stared at the ceiling with no thoughts in his dumb brain.

You hear him sigh, loud and dramatic, and then a muffled scream/groan into his pillow. Your lips twitch, he’s such a fucking drama queen.

Your little smile drops off your face when you hear the sound of his drawer opening.

Oh god. Oh no.

Your face feels like there are embers burning under it as you hear the unmistakable sound of clothes being shucked, a zipper and and then flop, and then….a slick wet sound and a sigh of relief.

Your eyes feel like they are bugging out of your head. Izuku is really about to fuck his fleshlight with you hiding in his closet with him none the wiser. You feel suddenly embarrassed and hot all over, hiding your face in your knees as you hear him let out a moan. A loud one.

You’re on fire, every part of you. You don’t think you can take this, don’t think you can sit through this and listen to this, think you should just burst out of his closet and use your bravado to somehow flip the situation and make him feel humiliated for getting off in the privacy of his own room, like he’s in the wrong even though you had violated so many boundaries for even being here right now.

You could do it too, you know. You’re good at twisting things, at powering through the complicated mess of flustered feelings izuku makes you feel and making it his fault, making him back down and cower. You could do it...you’re uncurling your legs and pushing your hands under you in the middle of getting up to do so when-

“Fuck. ___” Your name. You freeze, for an unholy, goldy second you think you’ve been caught, that he has acquired x-ray vision and has spotted you but no. His voice isn’t surprised or upset its...breathless, airy. He moaned it.

The first time you hear Izuku moan your name, its with you hiding on the other side of his closet door, your hand clapped over your mouth in shock.

Heat immediately shoots between your legs, your core throbbing unbidden in reflex to the sound, helpless to stop it, to have any other reaction. Your ass plops right back down. You turn slightly towards the door, pressing your side against it, your ear smooshed against the cool wood as you listen, as if drawn under a spell.

“You’re such…” You hear izuku pant, his voice deeper and more rough then you’ve ever heard it before. “A fucking brat”

Wet between your legs, seeping through your panties at his words, seemingly ripped out of him. God, he sounds pissed, wrecked. He cursed. You’ve never heard izuku curse before, never, even when you’d pushed him too far. Something really was different about today.

The slick sounds are more frequent now, steady and...and sounding like real sex you’d heard from porn before. Wet, sloppy, and slapping. Your knees knock together as you lean forward even more. There’s an invisible string pulling, tugging you forward, you want to see…

“Fucking slut” He grunts, and there’s a heavy slap, your breath catching in your fucking throat as you realize that...that must be the clap of his balls hitting the back of his fleshlight everytime he thrusts into it. “Always running your fucking mouth, looking down at me, so mean, you’re so fucking mean to me…uh..”

The sounds of sex fill the room and you can’t take it anymore, you’re burning, burning, burning, fuck the consequnces. You hesitantly and slowly turn the handle of the closet door, letting it slide open just a crack, enough for you to peek through, to get a glimpse.

His lean muscular back is the first thing you see, he’s facing directly away from his closet, thank god but oh god, that means you see..so much. The flex of his shoulder blades under his tan skin, the smattering of freckles over his shoulder, the long slender slope of his spine as it curves down his broad back, the dimbles at the bottom of his spine, flexing as he fucks his toy. His ass, because of course izuku would have a perfect round bubble butt. There are freckles there too.

Your eyes skate down, hungry to his large and heavy balls, low hanging and full, currently smacked right up against the base of the little pocket pussy he’s practically straddling on his bed.

It hits you again than, that deku is imagining that toy is you, he’s imagining fucking you in this position on his bed right now, imagining its your cunt hes pounding into, and your face he’s spitting those filthy words at.

Your hand is really moving without your permission when it slips under the band of your leggings into your panties, fingers immediately dipping between the slick folds of your pussy, silky and wet.

“-Wet” Izuku grunts, as you dip a finger just barely inside. “Fuck, i knew you’d be so fucking soft and good inside. Such a bratty girl would have a sweet cunt attached to her, huh?”

Fuck, where and when did izuku start speaking like this? His soft voice curling around such crude words is making you gush all over your fingers. You wish you could see the kind of face he was making when he said them.

“Yeah, you like taking my cock don’t you, baby?” He croons and if you close your eyes you can almost imagine he’s speaking directly into your ear, behind you. His thrusts get heavier, rougher, he lifts his leg up on the bed and you see a flash of the little green toy being fucked on his cock, big and angry looking. He’s being so brutal, hammering the thing down on his dick as he hips rut to meet every downward tug. “Milk it. Milk my fucking cock you whore. Wanna- fuck, wanna hear you say my name when you cum, want you to know who’s pouding that little pussy. The loser you fucking hate, yeah? Gonna cum for me?”

Yes, you whimper in your head in answer to him, your fingers curling deep, deep, inside, fucking yourself on them in earnest. He’s so big and you only caught a glimpse, but it was enough. Enough to know he’d fucking cleave you apart if he tried to fit that monster between his legs inside your tight little pussy. But you want it, god you fucking want it. You wanna feel him splitting you open, making you cream around him, making you beg for it. Making you bleed.

“One of these day” he says, his voice breathless but steady, even as it cracks. You know he’s close. “I’m gonna fucking snap. Im going to make you look me in the fucking eye and apologize for making me want you, and then im going to split that pussy open- fuck, im coming, fuck, fuck, fuck. Do you understand, b-bitch? Gonna fucking make you mine, yeah, take it, take your senpais cock you dirty fucking girl, ah!”

He slumps forward, hips humping into the toy and balls spasming as he pumps it full of his cum, shuddering deeply with little aborted whimpers. “Good girl, good girl” he pants, trailing off, giving one last little jerk of his hips before stilling.

You bite your lip so hard you draw blood to stop yourself from whimpering out loud. You pull your sticky fingers out of your cunt and shuffle back into the dark of the closet, curling in on yourself as izuku lays there, panting heavily for a few moments before moving.

You stay stock still as you hear him get up and shuffle around, his footsteps padding into the bathroom where you hear the door click softly shut. You spring up to your feet and don’t care if you make noise as you dart out of his room and into the hallway, sprinting like a bat out of hell as you make you way to the girls dorms.

You’ll think about how to reevaluate and recoup later. Right now you just really need to get to your bed so you can rut pathetically onto your own fingers and imagine izukus fat dick breaking you open. Never in a million years did you think he had those kinds of feelings for you, and you know it changes the whole game, is a whole other level of playing field where you now know he wants you on a physical level.

You feel powerless and lie you’re slipping again, don’t know how you’re going to point your finger at him and laugh when you know for every insult you throw his way, is another way hes fucking his toy at night, adding it as another thing to get you back for. If he ever snaps.

If. you want it to be a when, so bad, not an if.

You’ll make it a when. You’ll push him off the metaphorical cliff he’s teetering on to make it so.

#poppy speaks #my writing #deku smut #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya smut #bully!reader #izuku smut #midoriya izuku smut

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nobodyfamousposts · 3 years

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Chloe's Lament

Why no! I'm still not over Miracle Queen, why do you ask?

_______________________

They were impossible odds to begin with.

That was why they had failed.

Miracle Queen smirked as Ladybug was stung by her wasps and put under her control. Seeing the once great hero brought low really filled her with vindictive satisfaction.

“See?” She sneered. “I didn’t need you. You needed me!”

If anyone had the right to destroy Ladybug, it was her. After all, hadn’t she deserved this? What right did Ladybug have to refuse her her Miraculous anyway?

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. Because now all of the Miraculous were hers. Including Ladybug’s and Chat’s.

“My lady!” Chat shouted, though he was helpless to stop it. Helpless to even escape the grasp of her guards.

And speaking of which…

Her guards didn’t move, simply standing in place while they waited for orders. She was mildly annoyed that they couldn’t think for themselves and simply take the Miraculous already to present to her in offering, but…

…actually, no. It was better if she did it. This was her victory, after all.

She considered starting with the sidekick. He had always been an eyesore, anyway.

But Chloe was never one for patience.

At her command, Ladybug approached, apparently unaware of the world around him. Before Miracle Queen, she placed both hands over her ears.

She...seemed to hesitate for a moment.

Miracle Queen arched a brow at that. Was there some part of her trying to resist?

“Give me the Earrings.”

Whatever hesitancy she had vanished and within a second, she had the Earrings off, causing the transformation to fade and revealing—

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng?!”

She barely heard that alley cat’s gasp. She took little notice of Hawk Moth or Mayura’s own responses. She outright ignored the little pink bug thing that appeared and blanched at her presence. She didn’t even register anything any of them said afterwards, her mind whirling from the implications.

She had always thought Ladybug this distant figure. Untouchable. Unreachable.

But for it to be her of all people?!

She wasted no effort on kindness, simply ripping the earrings out of the former Ladybug’s hands with a sneer.

Her own goody-goody classmate just stood there staring ahead blankly. Chloe almost regretted not leaving her unstung, if only so she could see her reaction as she lost everything.

Chloe bit back a snarl at the girl.

She had always been a pest. Always getting in Chloe’s way. Always acting as if she was actually worth anything compared to her. Always denying her—demeaning her—opposing her—stealing from her!

Her Adrien! Her Mom’s attention! And now her Miraculous!

Chloe grit her teeth.

Of course. OF FUCKING COURSE!

“Chloe! Please listen to me!” The Cat was pleading to her.

Chloe felt numb. Her mind still registering the truth.

Because how dare she? How dare she?!

How dare SHE of all people fool her like this!

Words seemed to warble through the static surrounding her.

“You don’t have to do this!”

Have to? Of course she didn’t.

Want to? Oh, she certainly did.

“If Hawk Moth gets both Miraculous, he’ll make the Wish and it could be catastrophic!”

Chloe rolled her eyes.

Like that pathetic stray knew anything.

Of course anyone would say whatever they could to convince Chloe. She barely paid him any mind, still ruminating over the clear deception. How Marinette had gotten one over on her. Again.

All this time, Marinette must have been laughing at her. Trying to use her! Now she lost and Chloe won and people were still acting like she knew better! Like she was still so perfect!

Pathetic.

How could Chloe have ever looked up to her?

“Chloe, please! You can’t let Hawk Moth win!”

“Shut up!”

Hawk Moth wasn’t the winner here, she was!

And she would prove it!

She didn’t even need to waste a wasp on the sidekick. With the guards holding him in place and at her command presenting his hand to her, she was able to get to his Ring easily. His attempts to throw them off or keep his hand closed and protected were useless as she removed the ring, causing his transformation to dissipate.

She gaped.

“Adrien?!”

Him. Adrien Agreste. The boy she loved. The only one who was good enough for her. And he was staring back at her from the same spot where that stupid cat had been.

Adrien…staring at her in a mix of horror and disappointment and rage.

“Chloe…how could you?”

How could she? No! How could he?! He knew who she was this whole time! Why didn’t he tell her? Why didn’t he stand up for her when Ladybug told her she wouldn’t be Queen Bee again? Or hell, give her the Miraculous in the first place? She thought they were friends!

She shoved away from him.

This…

This wasn’t her Adrien!

“Excellent job, Miracle Queen.” Hawk Moth called, pulling her from her thoughts. “Now bring me their Miraculous and the glory shall be yours.”

A pause.

She considered.

Ladybug was defeated. Hawk Moth had won. He had won because of Chloe—the person whom Ladybug—Marinette had looked down on. The city was under her control. Now everyone HAD to listen to and obey her.

Marinette had lost everything and could do nothing about it while Chloe was free to be the Queen she always deserved to be.

Wasn’t this enough?

Wasn’t all of this…finally enough?

Silence.

Hawk Moth was waiting.

Her subjects were waiting.

Everyone was waiting on Chloe.

It was all about Chloe now.

So…wasn’t that enough?

“No.”

This wasn’t enough.

This wasn’t nearly good enough to appease her.

Hawk Moth frowned.

“What?”

“No!” She replied. “I don’t have to. I don’t want to. And now that I have these, I don’t need to.”

She smirked up at him.

“I don’t need you anymore! I don’t need any of you!”

She held up the two Miraculous in victory.

“Now I’M the one in charge!”

“Chloe, don’t do it!” Adrien shouted. “You don’t know what the Wish will do!”

“I’m not listening to you anymore!” She shouted. “When Ladybu—when SHE refused to give me my Miraculous back, where were you?”

“Chloe!”

“NO! What right does she have to say who deserves a Miraculous or not? She should never have been Ladybug!” She shouted, stomping her foot. “She doesn’t deserve it! I do! And I just want what I deserve!”

“Miracle Queen, don’t be foolish!” Hawk Moth ordered. “You are to hand over the Miraculous to me!”

“So you can just take my power away and leave me in the dust? I don’t think so! No!” Chloe shook her head. “This power is mine!”

The power and the Wish—wasn’t that what they had said? Wasn’t that what Hawk Moth had been after all this time?

Well, it was Chloe who won. Not Hawk Moth or any of his other lame akumas! HER! So Chloe earned this!

Which meant that the Wish was rightfully hers!

She turned towards Marinette with a smirk.

And she knew exactly what she wanted with it!

But first, best to get the riff-raff out of her way.

With a flick of her control, the wasps converged on Hawk Moth and Mayura. In a matter of seconds, they were under her control as well. The last thing she needed was either of them getting in her way.

The kwamis gaped at her in surprise, like they didn’t think Chloe could plan for things? Please! These peons were so below her it was embarrassing!

Chloe was smart! She was smarter than anybody! Better than everybody! Certainly better than that wannabe heroine! Even the universe agreed! Why else would she be blessed as she was?

She looked down at the two Miraculous in her hands with a smirk because this? This just proved it!

Of course she was better! And now everyone would know it, too!

Especially…

She turned to face Marinette once more.

Because this time, there would be no interruptions for Chloe’s gloating.

And boy, was she going to gloat.

“So…how does it feel to be the one to lose for once?”

Marinette simply stared blankly, as if she didn’t actually understand what Chloe was talking about.

“All this time,” Chloe continued. “You’ve been playing it up for the masses. Making everyone love you. Pretending like you were actually worth something. And all just to look down on everyone and boost your own ego!”

She laughed.

It sounded hollow to her own ears.

She pushed through.

“Like it wasn’t bad enough even as a civilian! You were always showing off! I bet being a hero was everything you ever dreamed of so you could get twice the attention!”

Marinette didn’t respond.

Adrien, however, did.

“That’s not true!” He shouted, struggling in vain to pull out of the hold as he defended his ‘Lady’. Gag. Miss her with that shit. “She’s never shown off or done any of this for attention! She’s not that selfish!”

Chloe was only more infuriated.

“Of course she is! The glory! The popularity! The power it gives you over other people! Why else would someone like her be a hero?”

Adrien actually seemed to find his spine, because he glared at her.

“That might be what you would do, Chloe. But that’s your choice. That’s how you choose to respond to things. Not everyone is like that!”

“Adrikens!” She gasped, appalled that he would argue against her like this.

“No, Chloe! You’ve done some horrible things, but this is probably the worst! You helped Hawk Moth! You betrayed everyone!”

“Oh please!” She said, brushing him off. “I wasn’t helping him, I was only using him. Now the city is safe and it’s all thanks to me!”

“Then why aren’t you freeing everybody?” Adrien demanded. “Why reveal Marinette? Why take over the other heroes and make them fight us? Why not just use your power to control Hawk Moth and let everyone else go?”

“Why should I?” She asked, flippantly. “They were all useless anyway.”

She had always wanted people to respect and obey her, and now they would! So she would be waited on like the Queen she was, and they would have some actual purpose to their lives.

Really, if anything, she was the gracious one, here.

It wasn’t like any of them were useful otherwise.

But something seemed to upset Adrien, as he winced at her statement and shook his head. She didn’t really know why.

“No one is useless.”

She sighed.

“Oh, Adrikens.” She looked at him in pity. The poor boy just didn’t get how the world worked. “Of course they are. Why else am I here in charge,” she asked, gesturing to herself before turning her hand to gesture to the unmoving ‘Guards’ around them, “and they’re there waiting for orders?”

Whatever response he seemed to be expecting from her, that apparently wasn’t it as he stared at her in shock.

“Chloe, that’s horrible!”

“What? It’s only the truth.”

She won. Lady—Marinette lost. Everyone had to obey her. Why wouldn’t that be the case if she was wrong?

“But it’s okay now!” Chloe said cheerfully as she turned back to him. And—oh, he was drawing back from her. Here poor Adrikens. He always was skittish.

“Now it’s just the two of us. We can do whatever we want, live however we want, and have nothing to worry about. If there’s anything we need done, the peons can take care of it.“

She smiled.

“It’s you and me against the world!”

Just like it always was.

Just like it was supposed to be.

But Adrien…

…he only seemed to look more upset at that. Pale. Almost sick.

“No.”

She blinked, surprised.

“No?”

“No!” He repeated with more emphasis. “I don’t want that! Nobody wants that!”

“I want that!” She replied. Because that was what mattered! As long as she got what she wanted, things were fine! And now they always would be since she would always get what she wanted! What was wrong with that?

“Nobody else wants that!” Adrien bit out.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, they don’t matter.”

Honestly, he must have been stuck under Marinette’s thumb too long to actually take that whole ‘hero’ role seriously. Seriously, people were there to help THEM, not the other way around. It’s a good thing she saved him from that line of thinking.

“They do matter!” Adrien said with a hiss.

He paused, his gaze falling on Marinette.

“She matters.”

And his voice had gone so quiet and soft. She couldn’t recall a time he had ever spoken that way to her.

It only infuriated her.

“Oh please! What has she ever done for me?!”

Adrien actually seemed to look annoyed now. That was actually a new look for him, and she couldn’t recall a time he seemed so angry.

“Do you want a list?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, there isn’t nearly enough to bother counting, much less make a list—”

“She stood up for you time and again. Both as Ladybug AND as Marinette. More than she had to, especially as the person you’ve been bullying all this time!” He stated flatly, giving her a glare. “She helped you with your Mom and supported you. She gave up on a once in a lifetime opportunity just because you were upset she was the one getting the offer to go with your mother instead of you. And that Queen Bee party everyone put on? Her work. She was the one who got everyone to do it.”

“No, she didn’t!” All of that was just because Chloe was that awesome and people had finally realized it.

“She did!” He insisted. “She stood up for you to Alya over your blatantly false account of how Zombizou was defeated and she got everyone to convincing everyone to throw you a party to make up for saying you weren’t a hero! Even though you never apologized! Even after you tried to get her kicked out of her home city!”

Chloe huffed. “Well, she deserved it! And why should I have had to apologize for anything? It was her own fault I had to do any of that to put her in her place! If she had left, everything would have been better off!”

That way, there would have been no one to challenge her. No one to take attention. No one to be compared to. No one to be reminded was ‘better’. No one for people to admire instead of her.

“She was useless anyway.”

And he just…stared at her. Like she was something abhorrent. Someone he couldn’t even recognize.

“What?” She groused.

A pause.

And then a quiet admission. Spoke just above a whisper but still somehow louder than anything Chloe had heard before.

“Marinette was right. I should never have defended you to her.”

Chloe reared back in hurt.

“Adrien—!”

He only glared at her.

“That day you announced you were leaving, everyone was glad. Nobody was sad to see you go, Chloe! Not one person!”

“That’s not true!”

“They were celebrating, Chloe!”

She froze.

“What?”

“Our entire school was literally throwing a party the instant they heard you would be gone!” He explained. “Teachers were hugging and crying in relief! They canceled classes! There was a conga line at the time I showed up! Fireworks, music, confetti—the works!”

She shook her head in disbelief.

“But...no. That was a party for me. To thank me!”

“Not originally.” Adrien corrected her. “They changed the reason for the party after the akuma attack, but reused everything from it. They just added a banner. That party was only started because you were leaving, Chloe. Not so you would stay.”

She gaped.

She had known they hated her...but that much?

“And the real reason—the only reason they did even that much to turn it around for you was because Marinette asked them to. And that was after you threw a tantrum and tried to get her banished from Paris just for saying you weren’t a hero!”

“But I was!” She shouted, stomping her foot. “I was Queen Bee!”

“Not at that time, you weren’t!” Adrien shot back. “You were a thief who used a stolen Miraculous to try to crash a train!”

“It was her fault for losing it—!”

“Marinette was on that train!” The bug kwami exclaimed, suddenly speaking up. “She and her parents could have died because of your stunt! Her saying you weren’t a hero after that was not only justified, but the very least you deserved!”

Adrien hadn’t seemed to know that previously, as he stared at the kwami in horror.

“She and her family—all of those passengers could have pressed charges! They should have! But Marinette believed you could be better!”

It glared up at her.

“Her saying you weren’t a hero at a time when you had done nothing worthy of the title was nothing compared to that!”

“Shut up!” She hissed, making the thing glare at her. “What does a bug know?”

“Enough.” Adrien cut in. “Do you really think anyone would have decided on their own to throw a party to thank you for something you caused in the first place?”

She didn’t believe it. She refused!

It was only because of her that the city was saved! Was a little gratitude so uncalled for? Seriously, after what she did for them, she deserved a parade at least! They’re just lucky she intervened at all!

She huffed. “Well, it was only the least they could have done after I saved the city from my dad!”

“Who only threatened the city because you upset him to begin with by demanding something he couldn’t give without unfairly hurting people!”

“Unfair?! You want to talk unfair? You heard what she said about me! That I wasn’t a hero! How was that fair?!”

“Because it was the truth?” The black cat kwami replied with a smirk.

Adrien shook his head and just…looked at her like he was disappointed. Like she actually did anything wrong! “It says something that you put Marinette in danger and she still tried to get everyone to appreciate you with that Queen Bee party.”

She blew up at that.

“She only did that because of you!” Chloe practically screamed. “Because she’s so in love with you that it’s pathetic!”

Adrien started in surprise.

“She loves me?”

And she couldn’t believe it, but the damned fool was actually starting to smile and his ears were turning pink! Like that was supposed to be something to be glad about!

Marinette had only ever acted for Adrien’s attention. Even that time she comforted Chloe as Ladybug when her dad was akumatized was probably just to look good to him! It didn’t matter that no one else was there to see her breakdown, it had to have been part of her plan!

She just had to explain it to him! Adrien would be on her side! He was her friend, after all!

“She was only acting nice to make herself look good to you!” She insisted.

He blinked and the happy look was gone. Chloe smirked at that, because he should be disgusted!

But Adrien only shook his head at her.

“Regardless of the reason she did that for you, she’s still the only one who did. Nino didn’t stop DJing that party out of friendship for me. The teachers didn’t corral the students or end the party out of duty to their jobs. The students didn’t receive any lecture for an unauthorized party on school grounds, celebrating a peer leaving, or just about having basic kindness and respect for others. The only one—the only one who not only stopped but advocated on your behalf to get everyone else to do the right thing was Marinette.”

He gestured to the city around them.

“And now after this, I have to wonder if it was really the right thing after all...”

She balked.

“What? No! Adrikens—”

“STOP calling me that!” He shouted sharply.

She took in a breath.

He…never…

Even when he was mad at her, he never talked to her like that!

“Adri—”

“I hate it. I hate that name. I hate how you call me that. I hate how you cling to me and hurt people and try to drive people away but also drive them away from me like I’m not allowed to have friends besides you and I hate…”

He took a breath, coming to a decision.

“...I hate you, Chloe.”

She stared at him, waiting for some sign that this was a joke. Because he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it, right?

But Adrien glared back at her unflinchingly.

She felt her heart freeze.

He...

He meant it.

He really and truly meant it.

“You...you can’t be serious! You would turn on me? For her?!”

He didn’t take it back! Why wasn’t he taking it back?!

“You promised! You promised me, Adrien, that you would always be my friend!”

“Chloe, you don’t know what friends are!” Adrien exclaimed. “To you, they’re either supposed to be servants like Sabrina or things to ‘own’ like me! And I didn’t know better before because I only ever had you. But since I’ve started school, I’ve learned what friendship is!”

He looked away, guiltily.

“I wish I had learned it sooner.”

She stared.

This…

This couldn’t be.

There was no way this was real.

Adrien. Her Adrikens!

“Are you really going to abandon me, Adrien?” She asked. “You, of all people? I thought…I thought you understood.”

He winced.

But he didn’t take it back. Not one bit.

She clenched her fists.

“Fine! Then…then if you want to be with them so much, I’ll just make you one of them!” She shouted, ignoring the tears stinging her eyes. “Then you’ll have to stay with me!”

He looked her in the eyes, solemn but stern.

“It won’t be real, Chloe. Whatever we had…whatever you would call it is already gone.”

“But it doesn’t have to be!” She insisted. “I have the Miraculous. I can just…there’s a Wish! If the world won’t let us be together and perfect, then I can just Wish for it!”

It was in equal parts a plea and a warning. For him to give in, just as he always had. For him to stay by her side like he’d promised.

He clenched his fists. But refused to back down.

“Whatever you do. Whatever world you create. My feelings won’t change.”

“We’ll see about that!”

“Don’t do it!” The bug kwami shouted. “Making a Wish should never be done, especially for selfish reasons!”

“I’m not selfish!” Chloe argued. “I’m the most selfless person I know!”

Adrien didn’t look impressed. Neither did the kwamis. If anything, the bug one looked furious.

“You can’t ignore all the horrible things you’ve done and reasons people could have to not like you, then turn around and figure that doing one nice thing after hurting someone means they now owe you somehow!”

“What,” Chloe bit out, “am I supposed to be owing her instead?” She demanded, gesturing to the still frozen Marinette.

“No!” Tikki replied, earnestly. “Because friendships are not about owing each other!”

“Since when were we friends?” Chloe laughed, jerking away from the annoying pink…thing. “Everyone is so below me it’s ridiculous, utterly ridiculous!”

The thing looked up at her, almost pityingly. “Chloe, you clearly care. That day when you were going to leave Paris, you were crying because you didn’t have any friends.”

Chloe stomped her foot. “That’s not true!”

“But you can have friends!” It insisted. “You just need to be nice—”

“I AM nice!”

“You’ve hurt people, Chloe! Intentionally and maliciously! And right now, you were helping a terrorist just because you didn’t get the Bee Miraculous on demand!”

“It was MINE!” Chloe shouted. “She took it away from me! How was that fair?!”

“It was never YOURS!” The kwami argued. “There is a duty! A responsibility involved! The Miraculous is not a toy! It it not a thing you can just use as you wish! It is a magical artifact that must be used for the greater good! It has a kwami with a name feelings attached to it! Did you ever even talk to Pollen?”

Chloe faltered, but then scoffed. “What would you know?”

Geez, did Marinette always let this thing talk so much?

It was Adrien who answered. “Of course not. Because you never do, Chloe. You don’t talk to people. You don’t consider people. You don’t look at anyone outside of yourself to even notice the effect you’re having.”

The black thing laughed. “You’ve caused a good half of the akumatizations in the city! In all our time active here so far, it says something that we have spent more akuma fights protecting you than any other person.”

The bug nodded. “And not once—not once have you ever so much as acknowledged doing anything wrong! Much less apologized!”

Oh, now Chloe knew she was full of it. “Because I wasn’t wrong, duh!”

She was. Because why else would Ladybug refuse her when Chloe had already proven herself? And she had! No other hero was nearly as good as her!

“Of course I wasn’t wrong!” She insisted. “Because even the universe knows it! That’s why I won! I’m a better person, a better hero, and a better Guardian than she could ever try to be!”

The bug was having none of it.

“Marinette is a better Ladybug—a better person than you ever will be. And that’s because she chooses to be kind! Regardless of the circumstances!”

It glared at her defiantly.

“Even if your positions were switched, that wouldn’t change.”

Chloe glared. “Why you—!”

How dare she?! Acting like she was better than her?

But Adrien cut her off.

“I kept telling myself that they don’t understand. That I knew who you really were. That other people just didn’t know you.”

Chloe gave a disgusted look at the prospect. She didn’t get why he looked so angry though?

Or why that look was directed at her?

He…wasn’t still serious about hating her, was he?

Adrien shook his head, completely infuriated.

“But I was just making excuses. It wasn’t that they didn’t know you…it’s that I didn’t.”

She balked.

“What? Of course you know me!”

It was why he was so perfect. And the only one worthy of her, after all!

Or…well…had been, she remembered, shooting him a petulant glare.

But Adrien refused to be cowed.

“The Chloe I thought I knew never would have done what you have! You were willing to go this far—help the enemy and take over the city all for the sake of your own self interests! Even if she had given you the Bee this time…what about the next time? Or the time after?”

This was irritating. He was acting like Chloe was the one bringing THEM down.

“At least I would have gotten my Miraculous!” She pointed out. Because that was what mattered here! It was only what she deserved and Marinette was the one in the wrong for not giving it to her! Everything would have been fine if she had!

Adrien glared at her—and she couldn’t recall a time he looked so angry. Not with anyone. And especially not with her.

“I had already enabled you enough, Chloe. And I encouraged others to do the same, thinking it would help you. That if they got to know you—if you had enough support, eventually you would open up and finally be the great person you always seemed to think you were. That they just needed to give you a chance and you would be satisfied and everyone would finally get along. But I was wrong.”

He looked done. No, even worse, he looked done with her!

He hung his head.

And near whispered:

“You’re the sort of person who is never satisfied with anything.”

And with that, Chloe broke.

“SHUT UP!”

With a wave of her hand, the wasps surged forward and Adrien was made into another of her mindless thralls. But she didn’t care. He was as good as lost to her anyway and in her mind, there was only one person to blame.

“Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!”

She spun around on the expressionless Marinette in a rage, zeroing in on the cause of all her problems. Even now, the former hero still somehow looked so goddamn noble!

“You don’t deserve to be Ladybug!” She shouted, eyes wide and spittle flying. “You don’t deserve your Miraculous! You don’t deserve your life! You don’t deserve ANYTHING!”

She clenched her fists tighter.

Her palms hurt, drawing her attention back to her clenched fists and specifically to the two Miraculous she had in each.

She smirked.

“I do. And now I have the power to fix that!”

She turned away, putting the Ring on her finger.

"You becoming Ladybug was a fluke!” She continued, moving on to the earrings. “You just got lucky! It was just a chance! Anyone else could have had it!”

She put in one earring.

“I could have had it! I would have deserved it more!"

She put in the other earring.

“I deserve it more than you!”

“Don’t!” Came a little voice—the pink kwami. Whatever the hell her name was was now floating in front of her waving her arms frantically. “The Wish isn’t without consequences!”

Chloe cut Tikki off.

“Just shut up and grant my Wish!”

The bug gasped right before her mouth disappeared. Nice! Chloe liked this feature.

But there was still the distinct lack of Wish-granting.

“Well?” She demanded.

The black one floated up to her.

“You’re going to have to actually say what your Wish is, first.” He said amicably.

See? This is what she needed. Simple. Sweet. And straight to the point! If only more servants could be like this!

Of course, if Chloe knew Plagg—or if she was just paying attention, she would have noticed the smirk on his face and been wary of it.

Plagg was a chaotic little kwami. As such, he was never this pleasant, especially to those who were going to use him in a way he didn’t like.

Chloe did not know this. And in this moment, she was too driven by rage and spite to consider it.

She was used to Pollen, after all. A quiet, subservient kwami who was perfectly fitted to Chloe—a person who was used to quiet, subservient people in her life.

Plagg was neither quiet nor subservient.

When he was, it was a sign to worry.

Perhaps if Adrien had been in control of himself, he could have warned her.

Perhaps if she had put more thought into Marinette’s attempts to help her previously, she would have reconsidered.

Perhaps if she had just given more consideration to Tikki's own warnings against it, she would have taken her time.

But Chloe Bourgeois had won.

She won. Everyone else lost. And that was all that mattered, so it was all she needed to think about.

And thus, without hesitation. Without thinking twice.

“I Wish—“

Chloe made the Wish to rewrite the world.

And

i t

a l l

w e n t

b l a c k . . .

Reality is not as one would expect. It is both more complicated and yet also more simple than one would think. Thus, there is no scientific way to adequately explain the process through which things are rewritten so that something that once was not now is and always has been. Or vice versa.

That is what metaphor is for.

Imagine, if you will, that the story as we know it is a performance. Particularly a play. One where the people we have met—from Marinette to Adrien to Hawk Moth and everyone inbetween are all actors filling certain “roles”. And imagine further that the Universe itself is equivalent to a Director overseeing these actors and their performance.

It was a passable show. Mixed reviews so far. Decent performance depending on the actor and their scene. But overall, it was entertaining enough and there weren’t any major issues.

Not until one of those actors just up and stopped the entire performance in the middle of the climax to complain about the show, insult the Director’s choices, and demand everything be redone with her in a different role.

Now the Universe is not a person. It does not have a form. It simply is. And despite having a will and a sick sense of humor, it is in no way a human.

…but if it WERE a human, what happened next would be the equivalent of it tilting its head and considering the defiant actor before it and said actor’s ridiculous demand.

For one eternity…

Two…

Before shrugging and simply saying “You know what? Fine.”

There was a sound of a “snap”.

The feeling of a curtain closing.

Darkness.

A shuffle from behind the stage.

A cough from the audience.

Then the curtains lifted.

And Chloe Bourgeois woke up in a room she had never been in before.

#ml fic #chloe salt #miracle queen #chloe's lament #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #tikki #plagg #gabriel is an idiot #be careful what you wish for #chloe is not careful

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wearywinchester · 3 years

Text

Tender

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When hiding an injury from Dean doesn’t go to plan, he’s there to give you the comfort you need.

Requested by @latenight-daythoughts: “Hey! I have a request for a Dean one shot please, could you do one where she gets hurt on a hunt and tired to play it off until they get back to the bunker and when dean patches her up it hurts more then she thought, so she starts crying and Dean comforts her and is all cute and sweet? I love your writing btw!!”

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, blood, fluff, comfort, kissing

Hurt. You got hurt on that hunt and you weren’t quite sure how you talked yourself out of it with Dean. Maybe you actually did, but a part of you told you that was more than likely impossible. Not with the look he gave you or the glance he spared down at your leg. But he seemingly took your word for it at that very moment.

Your eyes squeezed shut for a moment as you took a breath, trying your hardest to make it to the Impala sitting just a few feet away. Every ounce of pressure on your leg made it ache all the more as you walked, walked like you insisted you could do to a persistent Dean the moment he saw the look on your face. But you told him you were fine, staving his worries with a smile and a witty counter that had a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It was fine, so long as you kept your weight off of it as much as possible until you could clean yourself up, it’d be fine. At least that’s what you’d told yourself.

You were relieved once you’d slipped in the front seat after Dean suggested you sit up there with him, Sam in the back, a quiet sigh leaving your lips as you slumped back against the leather seat. The fabric of your jeans over the wound on your thigh had been frayed on the brink of being ripped, but not enough to draw your eye should you be anyone but yourself or Dean Winchester. Stains of crimson hadn’t been visible on the dark denim material, but you were sure it’d be obvious the moment they came off.

As you sat, you felt that ache on your leg begin to lighten some, that pain shooting down it dissipating now that you hadn’t been standing on it.

It shouldn’t be that bad, not really, you’d snagged it along the edge of something sharp when that demon had thrown you with so much as a flick of her hand. You were sore overall, something a hot bath might help with when you make it back to the bunker. But you’d yet to see your leg, to see just what damage lay beneath your jeans.

“You sure you’re okay, sweetheart?” Dean asked, pulling your attention from your thoughts.

You looked to your left, Dean’s gaze shifting from the road to look at you for a moment or two before looking ahead.

“‘M fine, De,” you murmur, that aching burn on your thigh threatening to spill over your emotions and give you away in an instant.

He looks at you again in a lingering glance, his lips pursed in disbelief, brows furrowing at the way you looked down at your leg with a frown, or the way you brushed your thumb over that very spot you said was nothing. He saw how your lips twitched downward in a deeper frown for only a mere second, quickly brushing it off with a sigh and a bite to the inside of your cheek before he looked forward once more.

You knew, by the light tension in his jaw and the crease between his brows, you knew he could see there was more to it than that.

After a moment or two you scooted a little closer to him, your hand grabbing his own. He felt the way you brushed your thumb along his knuckles in an absentminded habit, your gaze fixed out the window in an attempt to set your attention on anything other than the burning feeling that simmered on your skin.

It was okay. You were fine.

Your hand hadn’t left Dean’s nearly the entirety of the trip, something he noticed and something he didn’t mind, something that had him smiling softly at the mere thought of it. But something that was just as quick to steal that smile was the very look on your face each and every time he glanced over at you, a slight frown on your lips that you weren’t even aware you had, and that crease between your brows very much there.

You sighed when he parked in the bunker’s garage that night, getting out before he could come and help you do it. The look on his face was evident that he wasn’t happy with that, those dimples appearing by the corners of his mouth as he looked at you over the roof of the car.

“I’m fine, Dean,” you say, meeting him and Sam at the trunk where you’d grabbed your bags.

“You say that every time, sweetheart,” he counters.

“Maybe this time you’ll take my word for it,” you say, brows raised as you put your bag over your shoulder.

He chuckles then, head shaking as he closes the trunk. You tried your best to be convincing, and so far he hadn’t pried, but that very same feeling was back now that you were up and walking around, pressure back on your leg seemingly worse than before.

You found yourself grateful that Dean had chosen to walk ahead, Sam beside you, making it just a little easier to hide the change in the way you walked. Just enough to get you to your shared room without being terribly obvious. But it hurt, it hurt more and it was becoming increasingly more apparent to you.

You were home, and that’s what made things a bit better for you. You weren’t in some motel anymore, weren’t in the Impala anymore, you were home in the comfort of your familiar place with your room, your bed, and Dean. Despite the nagging pain wearing away at you with every movement of your leg, you tried not to think about it that much, and tried not to think about how it’d feel upon taking your jeans off. How it’d look given that you haven’t even seen it yet.

Dean dimmed the lights in the hall and bid Sam a goodnight like he always did, twisting the knob to your shared room and pushing the door open. Everything was as you’d left it just three days prior, the bed still made and ready to climb in and Dean’s slippers still tucked halfway under the bed, his pajama pants still slung over the back to the small desk chair.

“There’s no place like home,” Dean chuckles, sighing as he drops his duffel bag on the floor at the foot of the bed right next to yours.

You watched as he untied his boots and stepped out of them, unease settling over you as you took your own boots off, fighting the urge to scrunch up your face at the way your jeans pressed into your leg as you bent down.

You couldn’t hide this from him forever, you don’t think that’s possible when you really think about it. But you still weren’t willing to give it up, you could see the look on his face already if he knew. So, you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged off your jacket, eyeing him with a soft sigh.

“I’m gonna go shower before bed,” you say, smiling when he turns to face you.

He simply hums, dipping down to kiss you.

“Don’t be too long,” he murmurs against your lips, pulling back with a grin.

“Is it ‘cause you’ll miss me too much, Winchester?” You ask, brow raising in amusement.

You watch as the corner of his mouth quirks upwards, a laugh leaving his lips as he nods to himself, tugging back the blankets on the bed. It very much was the reason and he knew it, no matter how much Sam picks on him for it all in good fun, he just can’t help it.

“That’s exactly why,” he says, tossing a clean flannel of his your way along with a pair of boxers because he knows just how much you love to wear them to bed. Doesn’t even need you to tell him that very fact because he sees you snag a pair from his drawer every night without a care that he’ll see you stealing them either.

You stand there for a moment more as you look at him, your smile soft and fond as you hold the clothes in your hands. After that moment, you find it in yourself to turn on your heel and step into the hall, heading towards the bathroom. Your heart was bursting with the very thought of him sharing his clothes with you, of the very idea that he’d been so thoughtful, but the wound on your leg was making it awfully difficult to think about anything other than that.

You switched the light on and closed the door behind you, setting the clothes down on the counter. You turned the faucet on and stuck your hands under the tap, the water cold as it splashed across your face. It was a little more refreshing than you felt before it, soothing the fatigue that’d been settling over you only temporarily.

Dread simmered in the pit of your stomach at the thought of having to take off your jeans, but it wasn’t doing you any good to keep them on.

You exhaled a sigh, eyes squeezing shut as you hooked your fingers in your belt loops. It was fine until you got about halfway, and you found yourself fighting the urge to let out the cry that’s been sitting in the back of your throat, the feel of the rough material scraping over your thigh making it all the more difficult to stifle it.

It was then that you saw it, the blood smudged over your leg and the scrape that ran across your skin, angry and red as it tapered just above your knee. You ran your hands down your face at the sight of it, having been less than ideal but you knew it couldn’t have been good.

You kicked the dirtied jeans to the side in frustration, sighing as you opened the cabinet below the sink. You snagged the first aid kit and the bottle of peroxide just next to it, grabbing a clean wash rag.

This could have been avoided, maybe, but at that moment you were struggling to figure out just how it could have been. Demons were unpredictable, able to sense a trick with ease, able to tell when someone’s lurking with the intent to leave one less demon in the world. They give ample opportunities to be outsmarted, though, but this didn’t seem to be one of those times. There was no match for a human against the powers they hold save for the weapons that served you no use that day. You were thrown clear across the room without a beat of hesitation, something done with ease.

So maybe, just maybe it wasn’t avoidable this time.

You knew Dean saw it, he had to. It was more than obvious that there’d be repercussions to being thrown a good seven feet into a less than unforgiving cabinet. He knew you better than to believe that you were as fine as you say you were. He knows you like the back of his hand, can see your stubbornness from a mile away because he’s the very same.

You wet the wash rag at the sink, taking a seat on the bench by the showers. You began to blot away the blood, nose scrunching and eyes squinting as the burn of the jagged scrape worsened from it.

It was then that there was a knock on the door, a more than familiar voice on the other side.

“Sweetheart? ‘M coming in, I forgot to—”

Your eyes widen as the door opens, gaze meeting green eyes before his stare shifts downwards to the rag in your hand, splotches of a pale crimson staining it. They bounce to the source, to the irritated and red scrape dragging along the outside of your thigh, nearly classifying as a cut but not quite.

“Y/n.”

“Dean, it’s not—”

“What, ‘it’s not a big deal’?” He says, anger seeping into his tone. Not at you, never. It was when he thought back to that hunt that has him angry.

“Dean,” you sigh.

He’s quick to cross the tiled floor, kneeling in front of you. He nudges your knee with his hand gently, the tips of his fingers brushing along your skin. You saw the crease between his brows deepen, lips parted as his eyes bounced over the entirety of the wound on your leg. You can see the way his jaw tenses, tight and unwavering and if it were possible, steam would be coming out of his ears at that moment.

“Damn it, Y/n,” he says quietly, a frustrated huff leaving his lips. “You didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to freak out,” you reason, brows furrowing as you tilt your head to the side slightly.

His gaze narrows up at you in disapproval, your reasoning something that was near laughable to him, you even knew it was ridiculous too the moment the words fell from your lips.

“You can bet I’ll freak out,” he says, his chuckle humorless as he runs his hand down his face. “This is exactly why I didn’t want us to split up.”

“Well, we did.”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you, breathing out a huff through his nose. He was upset more than anything, with himself you could tell, could see the frown on his lips as he grabbed the wash cloth from your hand and picked up where you left off.

He was gentle as he wiped away the dirt and blood smeared around it, more so than you despite the white-knuckled grip he’s got on the tattered cloth. You tried to keep your attention on anything else, anything other than the way your leg had been so sensitive even the most mild of touches as hurt. You tried to keep your gaze on him, distract yourself with the abundance of freckles speckled across the bridge of his nose and over his cheeks.

They were easy to distract yourself with on any given occasion, on times where you didn’t need to be distracted, when you shouldn’t be. But for the life of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to get lost in counting them this time, not with the numbing pain serving as a painful way of keeping you fixated on just that.

“You should have told me,” he says quietly, residual anger still wrapped around his tone with the softness of his words. But he was more concerned than angry.

You puffed out a humorless laugh through your nose, your grip on the bench you sat on tightening some. “I’m not exactly jumping at the idea of running to my boyfriend every time I get hurt on a hunt.”

Your tone is frustrated, embarrassment simmering in the pit of your stomach over the current situation you were in, not to mention the way it happened. You’d never get taken seriously if you ran and cried to Dean each and every time you got hurt. You barely felt like an adequate hunter as it is, you didn’t want to add to it. You would have been fine if he hadn’t seen it.

“Y/n, this isn’t some puny little paper cut, okay? This is way different than just slapping a bandaid on it and kissin’ it better.”

“I said I’m fine, Dean,” you say, jaw tensing as you look away.

You hated the way your voice was beginning to falter, swallowing thickly in hopes to push down the persistent lump in your throat. Now was not the time to cry, not in front of him. That would only make matters worse and you don’t think you could handle that.

“It doesn’t make you weak to ask for help, not even a little bit. You don’t have to play the tough guy act all the time.”

You stay quiet as you continue to look away from him, the pressure building behind your eyes. When you glance down you see he’s got that dreaded bottle in his hand, popping the cap open with his thumb. He’s hesitant as he tips the bottle, the clear peroxide having poured steadily over every inch of the wound on your leg, bubbling and stinging the moment it touches the damaged skin.

You felt your lip begin to quiver, near uncontrollable as it throbbed and burned, the pain worse than you thought as you bit down on your lip. It was almost unbearable, a numbing kind of pain that brought heat to your cheeks and quickened your heart. That pressure behind your eyes increased then until you just couldn’t handle it, lip free from your teeth as you hid your cry in your shoulder.

But it turns out, you’re not that good at hiding, not from Dean Winchester. Not that it was very hard to notice either.

He stopped immediately, gaze flickering to you, cheeks wet with hot tears and lip quivering in a way that tugged at his heart. His hand settled on your cheek, a gentle nudge to get you to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, the fond nickname something that makes you cry all the more in that moment.

You wrap your arms around him and he settles back a bit as he holds you closer, brows furrowed and jaw tense because seeing you so upset is one thing he can’t handle. Seeing you cry is something that tears him to shreds every time.

His grip on you is tight, his stubble pressing into the side of your neck. He’s cautious of bumping your leg, his throat clearing to try and stave off that pressure constricting around his throat from that very same lump forming as it did you. You could feel the kiss he pressed to your cheek, one to your temple, lingering and sweet. Dean Winchester could be the gruffest man anyone’s ever seen, but he’s got the softest heart, and if there’s one thing he can do without fail it’s comfort.

He finds himself pulling back when you loosen your grip, lip still wobbly as ever as you look at him with glossy eyes. You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, cheeks that burn with embarrassment for crying even though he didn’t mind it in the slightest. He didn’t mind the tears on his shirt, didn’t mind the snot to go with it. That’s the least of his concerns, they all pale in comparison to you.

“It hurts,” you whisper, your gaze shifting to his at the feel of his hand on your cheek, calloused and warm.

“I know it does, baby. Hell, I couldn’t even imagine what that feels like,” he says, smiling softly. “But ‘m almost finished and the ugly part is over, I can promise you that. You just gotta let me take care of you, okay?”

You nod, the patience in his words having set you at ease as you sniff, wiping your tears once more when his hand falls from your face in favor of sorting through bandages. He comes up with a few cotton pads, laying them over the length of the freshly cleaned wound as you sit there, still sniffling from having cried.

He’s more than careful as he takes the roll of gauze and wraps it around your thigh, securing the bandages completely with care to not make it too tight before he tucks in the loose end.

“You’re good as new, sweetheart,” he says, looking up at you.

You flash him a look, biting the inside of your cheek as you laugh softly, not quite humorous. “I’d hardly call it that.”

You’re grumbling, but he takes that hint of a smile as a good thing, standing halfway to press a kiss on your cheek and one to your lips, another to your forehead as his hand brushes over your cheek before he stands fully and swipes the clean clothes from the counter.

You stand with a look of unease, trying your best to keep the pressure on your good leg before that dreadful pain can jolt up your other. You shrug off your shirt in favor of his flannel, the soft material hanging loosely from your shoulders in a heap of warm and fabric softener and a hint of his cologne. It’s a simple thing that amounts to more comfort than you can express, the mere feeling of it putting you at ease.

He helps you with your pajama bottoms, trying not to fuss over you as you did it yourself, instead offering his arm for your balance that you found yourself needing more than you thought.

Your bed was more comfortable than you’d imagined coming home to, leaps and bounds better than that motel mattress. The sheets were soft and they too smelled like Dean, the blankets warm and hefty as they rested over top of you.

Dean brought you close enough to nearly share a pillow, the events transpiring earlier that day on the hunt having sunken deep in the pit of his stomach and simmered there, bringing with it that anger that hadn’t quite left. It made his stomach twist and churn each and every time you got hurt, the blame he put on himself having picked at him every single time without fail. Especially when it brings you to tears, especially when it’s got you so bothered it’s got you crying into his shoulder.

He hates it, he hates that part of hunting.

But regardless, those kind green eyes meet your gaze as he looks at you with a soft smile, his fingertips brushing along your cheek. He’s got that look on his face, one that’s telling of something humorous sitting on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be spoken.

“What, De?” You sigh, feeling the residual tension of your tears beginning to dissolve just a little more.

He chuckles, looking down for a moment as he shakes his head. “If I were you, ‘think I might’ve cried way sooner than you did.”

You roll your eyes then, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Dean, that’s a lie and you know it.”

“Is not,” he insists, lips pursed to stifle his smile.

You look at him, tired and amused as you make no effort to hide your smile. He’s got that smile, that one that makes your cheeks burn and your heart flutter every time he looks at you like that.

“Whatever you say, Winchester,” you sigh, leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips.

You find yourself lying atop his chest as he turns the tv up a little bit more, his chuckle rumbling against you. He tossed the remote down, the very tip of your finger tracing over his chest. Your legs tangle with his own, your injured one on top as you turn a bit more on your side. He’s got reruns of your favorite show on because he knows you’re too tired to watch the new ones, knows you like to have it on when you fall asleep.

“Goodnight, De,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his chin before sinking back down on his chest.

He smiles in that moment, soft and sweet as his thumb brushes back and forth over your shoulder lightly.

“Night, sweetheart.”

You’re fine. You’ve got him and you’re okay.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester angst #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction

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sandraharissa · 2 years

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I think that in the cannery Silco is the whole time really confused and frustrated with Vander’s behavior. Vander changed to the point Silco could trust him again and Vander wouldn’t repeat what he did (I think part of why Vander is so pacifist is cos of what he did to Silco) but Silco can’t accept that. He remembers Vander as someone who nearly killed him and he lived with this for years, and wanted to reunite anyway and now he wants to have to deal with the same man he accepted Vander was and also still respected despite everything. This new Vander is not smth Silco can work with. I think confronting this new Vander is uncomfortable to him cos it nearly forces him to see the situation for what it was and not how he viewed it through his trauma.

We don’t know the details of the betrayal but it seems Silco thought he deserved it, or more likely accepted that this is who his brother truly was the whole time. This is part of what led him to his ‘there’s a monster inside all of us’ ideology. So to see Vander again only for him to behave like he should have back then. Showing qualities that he didn’t show toward Silco back then. Basically ‘Silco idealizes/looks up to Vander’>’Vander betrays him and Silco goes on to accept that Vander showed his true self that was always there’>’Silco sees Vander again prepared to deal with his monster-brother only to see that Vander isn’t that monster anymore’.

That’s why he goes ‘I knew you still had it in you’, seeing Vander like this brought him satisfaction and relief. I think it must have been on some level painful for Silco that Vander seemingly genuinely became a kind, gentle, ‘would not turn my violence against my family/the weak’ kinda guy, but not for him. That’s why it was easier to forgive Vander for trying to kill him and accept that’s who Vander is, if he joined him, rather than face the ugly truth that his closest and most trusted loved one committed a horrible act of violence on him and process his hurt and continued love for Vander without resorting to resigning himself to believing this is just how life works.

All that obviously influenced what kind of person Silco allowed himself to become but also likely informed his relationship with Jinx. He is ready to accept her no matter what atrocities she commits, including torturing and kidnapping him (and patricide), and she never needs to apologize for anything. Repeating the attitude he showed toward Vander, where he was physically violated by him but didn’t expect or require an apology or anything from Vander and was willing to let it slide even tho his brother was willing to commit a fratricide.

There’s also the parallel between how Jinx was willing to reunite with Vi despite Vi messing things up constantly (the last thing she did was walk away from Jinx on the bridge but despite that Jinx talks first to her during the dinner and offers her the first choice) however also putting Vi in front of an impossible choice for all the hurt that Vi caused her that’s supposed to convince Jinx of Vi’s love and loyalty to her through this big act/sacrifice (killing Cait and choosing Jinx)-

And how Silco freely forgave Vander however put him in front of an impossible choice for all the hurt Vander did to him that was supposed to convince Silco of his love and loyalty to him through this big act/sacrifice (abandoning pacifism and choosing Silco).

Silco told him he’d show him who he really was and he does achieve that before Vander dies. This seems to bring Silco some peace of mind despite how just a second ago he relived his trauma. This truly was who Vander was on the inside after all. If pushed far enough we are all monsters on the inside and there’s nothing that can be done about it. What happened to Silco was just the way the world works. The violence was an intrinsic part of Vander and therefore unavoidable and also not really anyone’s fault.

Yet he is wrong. Vander’s rage and abandoning of his pacifist ways and hurting his brother again was a result of losing Claggor and Mylo and an attempt to save Vi. Something Silco misunderstood in the moment and wouldn’t be able to understand for years to come. However ultimately Silco also gives up his dream of Zaun and loses his cool/rages at the possibility of losing Jinx. Not because he didn’t truly want independent Zaun or he wasn’t really a collected and cruel crime lord but cos he’s got his priorities.

Yes, all your morals/mentality/goals do go out the window if your child is threatened, actually, and it doesn’t reflect much on the parent outside of showing that they’re a devoted parent. This kind of attitude of a parent toward their child is just unique like this.

It all makes sense now.

#there’s so much meta I want to write but I end up only ever finishing the ones about vanco ig #silco #vander #vanco #arcane #my:arcane #jinx #silco and jinx #vanco family

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angry-geese · 3 years

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Hi there <3 I've read some of your works and i'm in love with your writing. May I please request a fluff gojo x fem!reader? Like they finished their work in the evening and spend the rest of the night together at home💕 It could be a oneshot or a hc, whichever you feel to write. Thank you so much ^^ I'm sorry just in case my request is somehow not really clear☺️

Of course! here you go <3

Mochi

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: none! entirely fluff! this will quite literally rot your teeth. afab reader

a/n: this ended up being a little longer than I intended lol whoops

Word Count: 2.5k

Satoru Gojo is a busy man.

The strongest can't really take a break. He’s on call 24/7. People are pulling him in all directions simultaneously. With everything that's been going on, between the mess with Sukuna, and everything happening at the school, he’s been short on time.

He needs a break.

He's more tired than he lets on. He’s good at hiding it. Especially around his students. It's hard to pull him away from his work. He's insistent that he’s fine. When you’re around someone for so long, you learn to pick up when they aren't. He can pretend to be fine all he wants. You know otherwise.

Sometimes what the strongest needs is someone to boss him around.

He’s capable of taking care of himself. He’s proven that already. But worrying is in your nature. You care about him, of course you’re going to worry.

You were a first year when you met him, having just transfered schools after an incident involving a curse. In a matter of weeks your life had seemingly been flipped on its head. The switch took some time to get used to. Switching schools your first year, let alone switching to this one in particular, was never going to be easy. Getting used to the way Jujutsu society worked took a while. He was a year above you, and you remember absolutely hating him. Gojo was insufferable- or you found him to be such. But he was friends with Nanami, who was a friend of yours, so you reluctantly hung out with him. Nanami, being in the same year as you, was the first to help you out, extending a hand and helping you get used to the way things worked.

Spending time with him didn't do much to change your views. The two of you couldn't have been more different. You still are. But something about opposites attracts.

The first time you gave him the benefit of the doubt was the first time he saved your life.

It may be a bit of an over exaggeration. You’re certain you would have survived without his help, but that could also be an attempt to preserve your pride. You went after a curse, not expecting it to be as strong as it was. As far as you knew, it shouldn't have been stronger than a grade three. Being a grade two at the time, this should have been well in your ability. There ended up being more than one curse, and they were stronger than anyone had realized. You were in over your head.

It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known. It's not like you could pick and choose which curses you fought. As a student, that was decided for you.

You had resigned to your fate, separated from the others, injured. Nothing fatal. It left a cool scar, though. But you were well out of your league, put on an assignment far harder than you could deal with. You hate to admit defeat, but you had no other option.

Out of what seemed like thin air came Gojo, taking out both curses like it was nothing. Despite not liking him all that much, it was hard to not be impressed. He was strong. Stronger than you could ever hope to be.

You made it home in one piece.

It was three days before you’d finally confront him.

Getting him alone was hard enough. Being an underclassman, you didn't interact with him a whole lot. You didn't have any classes together. The few times you ran into him were when you hung out with Nanami, who was gone at the time.

When the opportunity presented itself, you took it, cornering him behind the school.

Even back then it was impossible to sneak up on him. He could sense you coming.

“Jesus-” he said, referring to you by your last name, “you look like you want to kill me.”

“You helped me out.” You said. “Why?”

He only shrugged. Not wanting to take that for an answer, you followed him. You were insistent you paid him back. You’d never let a debt like that go unpaid. The first debts are always the hardest to pay back. And when a first debt involves saving your life, well, you’ve got a lifetime to pay back. You only left once Gojo showed up. He needed to talk to Gojo about something, and although you were curious, you didn't feel like sticking around.

Gojo spent the next couple days scheming. You were determined enough you would do just about anything. He could have easily abused his power. It would have been even easier to force you to drop it, but something told him you weren't about to take no for an answer.

You wouldn't.

3pm in the bathrooms. It was hardly a week later. Your last class had ended for the day. You had snuck cigarettes in, blowing the smoke out of the crack in the window. You don't smoke anymore, but you went through nearly a pack a day in high school. There wasn't a specific brand you liked—you didn't necessarily like smoking, but you did it when you were stressed—you just used whatever you got ahold of.

You didn't hear the door open. Gojo wasn't the sneaky type, but he could be when he wanted. You weren't too hard to sneak up on.

If you didn't have contraband that likely would have gotten you expelled, you would have screamed when you saw him. He scared you, not to mention he snuck into the girl’s bathrooms. The two of you would be in equally deep shit if you reported the other. So at that moment you came to a silent agreement.

“You still want to pay me back?” He asked. “Cause I have an idea.”

You perked up at his words.

“Get me mochi from that shop just down the road. You know the one that just opened up?” He asked. “Bring me some and I’ll call us even.”

“That's it?” You asked. It was almost anticlimactic. But despite everything, he was insistent.

Gojo hasn't changed a whole lot since then.

He still has his sweet tooth. He still makes you get him mochi from that shop. It feels like you’re the ones keeping it in business nowadays.

You’re not quite sure who made the first move.

Soon you began spending more time together away from Nanami and Geto. You got along better than anyone—mostly you—ever expected. You weren't the most outwardly affectionate. While you were far from shy, pda wasn't really your thing. Gojo is the opposite. Even now, years after you began dating, he’s still clingy. You’ve gotten used to it. Gojo is possessive, he wants everyone to know you’re his. Not that they don't know already. He can't shut up about you.

Getting him alone has always been hard. Not much has changed in the past few years. He’s only gotten busier. Try to drag him away from work all you want, you rarely succeed.

Tonight he's come willingly. He finished his work early, and all you had left was stuff you could finish in the morning.

Nights at home like this—together—are rare. It feels like you hardly see him anymore. You often fall asleep alone, only to wake up to the other side of the bed being cold. He’s been so occupied with this business with Yuji, that he’s hardly had time for anything else. You sneak away during your breaks, like you’re teenagers again, stealing kisses between classes. You almost don't know what to do.

It almost feels like you should do something to celebrate.

The lights are off when you get home. Your apartment looks empty. Megumi must still be out with his friends.

“What should we do for dinner?” Gojo asks.

“Takeout?” You say. "I don't feel like cooking."

Gojo’s a decent cook, but he doesn't feel like doing so either. He’d get takeout every night if you’d let him. But that's not good for him (or Megumi) so you force him to do otherwise. Because you’re normally home, and you like baking, you’re usually the one to make dinner. There's not much in the fridge. You'll have to get groceries eventually. Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. It shouldn't take long.

“How does Korean barbeque sound?" He asks. "From that place down the street?”

"Sounds good,"

You find a menu buried in one of your kitchen drawers, stashed with other takeout menus. You pick out something—two meals, plus some sweet buns for dessert—he calls the restaurant. You pay the extra cash to have it delivered. Neither of you feel like going and picking it up. It's more convenient than the alternative.

The tv drones on in the background while you wait. There’s not much on tv at this hour. News, some late night soaps. While you do like your occasional soap opera, none that you normally watch are on. Gojo changes it to the news. The weather. It looks like it'll rain tomorrow morning, but the rest of the day is supposed to be warm.

"We should go to the park tomorrow," you say, "having a picnic sounds nice."

Gojo hums in approval. As long as you make those tea cakes—the ones with honey drizzled on top—he'll agree to tag along. Maybe you'll go check out the bookstore too. It's been a while since you've last gone.

You strip out of your uniform, pulling on some more comfortable clothes; a pair of shorts and one of Gojo's shirts. It smells like him. You can't help but bury your nose in the collar.

When there’s a knock at the door, Gojo is the one to answer. He returns with your food. You gather napkins and utensils. Gojo never saw the point in anything other than stainless steel chopsticks. Or wooden ones—those given to you with takeout—if he wasn't feeling up to doing dishes. You, on the other hand, bought all sorts of colorful ones and stands that may or may not have been lifted from various restaurants. That's one habit from your teenage years you never lost. You'd pocket almost anything that wasn't nailed down. Your apartment has a rather impressive assortment of salt and pepper shakers. Not to mention the box of hotel soaps you never use, but took because you "might" need it. He enables you, taking some whenever he stays out of town, bringing them home for you. Gojo can hardly say no to you.

Gojo settles next to you on the couch, his shoulder pressed to yours. He can't keep his hands off of you. He’s possessive by nature. Everyone has to know you’re his. He always has to be touching you. Not necessarily with his hands, but he presses his thigh against yours while sitting next to you, or his body pressed against yours from behind in public.

The two of you eat in relative silence. Gojo’s attention turns to the tv, but that doesn't stop him from practically laying on top of you. Occasionally he’ll sneak bites of your food, and you of his.

When you’re done, you clear away the empty containers, sitting any leftovers in the fridge. Gojo sprawls out on the couch. He easily takes up any bit of space. The couch can hardly fit all 6-foot-something of Gojo. It hardly fits you. You've been meaning to look for another one, but haven't found the time to.

He opens his arms, and instinctively you go into them. You move so you can rest partially against the arm of the couch, Gojo's head leaning against your shoulder. His arms loop around your waist, his fingers lacing over your stomach.

It doesn't take him long to begin to drift off. He falls asleep in the crook of your neck. The low sound of the tv, combined with the warmth of his body makes you want to drift off to sleep. Sleeping on the couch like this isn't very good for your (or his) back, but you don't want to move.

The next time your eyes open, some late night game show plays, disturbing your sleep with loud music. The clock on the wall reads some time past two. It's hard to read the minute hand. You gently shake Gojo awake. One of his eyes cracks open and he lets out a soft “hm?”

“Come to bed,” you say, your arms wrapping around his neck, “it's late.”

His eyes close, and for a moment you think he’s drifted back off to sleep, when his grip around you tightens, and he’s rolling over on top of you.

“I think I’ll stay here with you, mochi,” he says, planting a wet kiss to your neck. The feeling of his lips on your neck makes you shiver.

And though he doesn't move, there's a look in his eyes that tells you he has something planned. You only notice too late that his grip never loosens, and the mischievous glint to his eyes. You couldn't wiggle out of it if you wanted to. You're effectively trapped.

He litters your neck with kisses, sending you into a giggling fit, and he doesn't stop until you’re begging him to. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from laughing. Your nails dig into your palms so hard they leave little crescent-shaped indents.

When you finally settle down, he’s pulling you into his arms bridal style, heading for your shared room. The bed is still unmade from this morning. Neither of you bothered to put it away. You were busy, and the thought slipped your mind.

Gojo shoves the covers aside, pulling you to lay on his chest. His fingers gently trace up the curve of your spine as he watches the steady rise and fall of your chest. Goosebumps prickle your exposed skin. He’s careful with how he touches you, loving, and soft. It's like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. His heartbeat is audible. Steady, and quet, acting as a lullaby. Your eyes shut, but you’re still awake. The intimacy of the moment doesn't go over your head.

He thinks he could die happy at this moment. Any moment, with you, really. Even during fights, or nights where he doesn't come home until long after you’ve fallen asleep, and you’re left irritated with his lack of time. As long as you’re by his side, he’s content.

He doesn't give much to the thought of settling down. His work will never let him. Neither does he think much about having any biological children. You practically have two already. Settling down isn't really an option for the strongest. This is the closest he’ll get to it.

For now, he just thinks about the park, and the blue sundress you always wear when you go.

Not many people can say they’ve changed who Satoru Gojo is as a person—let alone for the better—but you’ve changed him twice. Once in your meeting behind the school, and once again tonight. He’s found the one.

The first debt is always the hardest to pay back. But you've paid it in full.

#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #fluff

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aminiatureworld · 3 years

Text

Disappearance

Characters: Diluc, Razor, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 4,133

Warnings: Slightly claustrophobic

Premise: The line between small upsets and huge quarrels can be a blurred one, and it’s often difficult to cope with in the aftermath.

In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Thank you for your request anon. I really cannot stay away from angst, and this was right up my alley. Poor characters, how I love to torture you.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to write Razor, he isn’t in my list of characters I’m comfortable with. For one thing I find his broken speech quite difficult to deal with. I can’t tell if I find it irritating or not, or if it’s an example of good characterization or the “savage” stereotype a la Tarzan – sorry Tarzan I don’t like you. But I tried to make the effort and I hope it came out well! Though I still don’t feel quite comfortable with writing him. I hope I handled the dialogue well enough. He makes me think of San from Princess Mononoke.

Diluc

Diluc accelerated his pace as the Winery came into sight, his normally serene face breaking into a small smile.

It was the best time of day, the time when he came home, the time when he could finally see you. The two of you had been a couple for about five months, and though it wasn’t the longest of time, it was certainly the happiest Diluc had been, happier even than when he was a child with a family to call his own. You were his family now after all, something that you reminded him when he was in his darkest moods. You were his family now, and nothing could tear that apart.

“Welcome home.” Your voice was warm with happiness, and you threw your arms around Diluc the moment he came through the door. Diluc reciprocated the embrace and for a moment the two of you simply stood in the landing, the picture of perfect happiness.

“I’ve missed you, beloved.” Diluc whispered.

“I missed you too.” You replied, smiling softly. Your smile slipped however, and was instead replaced with an expression of worry. “You were gone so late tonight, I was unsure if something had happened to you. Really, I was about to go after you.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” Diluc replied, tone firm though not unkind. “We’ve talked about this before my love, if something were to happen to me, which it won’t,” he quickly added, seeing your gaze cloud over, “but if it did I wouldn’t want you to put yourself in danger. I fight for you as much as anyone else in Monstadt, and for you to be injured or worse on my part, I’d never be able to forgive myself.”

“I know we discussed it and came to that conclusion.” Your words were slow, deliberate in tone. “But though I agreed to it then, I found tonight that I regretted it more than anything I might ever do. I cannot bear the idea of you somewhere near, hurt and crying out for help or worse…” you swallowed, unwilling to conjure the image to mind, “…I couldn’t bear thinking that you might be in a bad way and with no chance of rescue simply because I made a foolish promise. And while I was thinking about this all I came to the realization that I could never truly keep that promise. If you’re ever in need I will be there for you, no matter what. No matter what you said, what you think, it is the simple truth.”

“Please don’t do that.” Diluc replied, voice quickly becoming filled with emotion. “If there’s something out there that could hurt me like that, then how –” he paused, realizing his mistake, but you’d already caught it.

“How could I possibly defeat it?” You replied, a grimace replacing your smile. “You cannot treat me like glass Diluc. I’m an adventurer, a warrior in my own right. And I won’t be kept from saving the one I love the most, not when the only thing keeping me from it is his pride and a few words.”

The two of you said nothing more of it that night, but the argument hung in the air the next morning, continuing the awkwardness up until you left for your adventuring duties. Diluc did nothing to breach the gap. He was in the right after all. And besides, it was such a stupid little argument, barely one at that. In a day or two it’d be nothing, and then all would be well again.

This conclusion was sorely tested when you didn’t return to the Winery in the evening. As Diluc prepared himself for another night of patrol he began to worry slightly. Surely you weren’t avoiding him. About something so small? No, most likely you were simply late. You’d be there when he got home. If he was sure of anything he was sure of that.

Unfortunately Diluc was proven quite wrong. The doorway was empty at his arrival, you were nowhere to be found. A sinking feeling began to settle into his stomach, and Diluc found himself quite unable to sleep that night, instead tossing and turning this way and that, wondering if you were truly so angry over something that he’d seen as so small. It was the only logical explanation for your disappearance after all, though Diluc wasn’t sure what to do about it. Chasing after you seemed somewhat uncouth, and besides didn’t that always make things worse? No, he’d give you space, all the space you needed. If a week passed then he’d seek you out, but before then he’d let you be. No point in jeopardizing the relationship anymore than apparently he already had.

His promise to stay away for a week was nearly torn to shreds by the end of the next day. Were you truly so angry with him? How could he have hurt you so much? Diluc didn’t know what to do. During the day he tried to behave as always, keeping tabs on everything he could and busying himself as much as possible. At night, however, the feeling became more and more unbearable, and Diluc found sleep more fleeting than ever.

He kept replaying the argument, over and over again did he try to remember exactly what had happened. Was your tone of voice angrier than he thought? Was your expression darker? Had he been too curt, too dismissive, too demanding? What could’ve possibly caused you to simply disappear? It was unlike you; usually what arguments took place resulted in you trailing him more than anything else. Why was this so different? Turning onto his side once more Diluc closed his eyes. Tomorrow all would be well. Tomorrow you’d come back for sure.

You didn’t come back tomorrow, nor the day after that. Those days were some of the most anxious Diluc had felt since the immediate passing of his father. Work became unbearable, for words that one stood clearly on the page now swam before him, a sea of incomprehensible figures and symbols. Eating and sleeping too were utterly alien to him, and what those two days were mostly comprised of turned out to be him walking about in a stupor, too dazed and too worried to think about anything around him, anything other than you.

On the fourth day a knock came to his door, and with it came Katheryne of the Adventurer’s Guild. Her face was ashen, and she was fiddling with her hands. As Diluc gestured for her to sit down the anxiety that had been sitting in his stomach tangled itself into knots. What in the name of the Seven had happened?

“Master Diluc, we have some information, information involving your partner.”

“Yes?” Diluc’s voice was sharp and low, for he couldn’t bring himself to hide it. Collapsing into the opposite chair he tried to prepare himself for the worst, knowing that if you had left or, Seven forbid, been killed he’d never be able to move on.

“Well you see your partner, they went on an expedition, a commission rather. They were looking for bits of Noctilious Jade and Cor Lapis. Although these minerals are normally found in Liyue only there are a few reservoirs in Monstadt along the border of the two lands, specifically they can be found in certain caves behind the waterfalls that flood into the river. A merchant bought the rights to the land of one of those caves and, being a merchant, he couldn’t get it out himself, so we sent one of our own to mine it out for him, see if it was any good.”

“This is all quite fascinating,” Diluc replied, tone made sharp with worry, “but I can hardly see what this has to do with anything.”

“Your partner was the one selected. They went down to mine it but the entrance was the opening to a sharp drop and they fell down. We only managed to recover them this morning.”

The shock that ran through Diluc was something that he never wished to experience again. It seemed to pierce right through him, into the center of his heart. You’d been trapped. You’d been in need of help, stuck for days in the worst of possible situations, and he’d done nothing but loaf around the Winery. How could he forgive himself for something like that?

“May I see them.” He choked out, his throat constricted and burning.

“They are coming here right now. Thankfully injuries were minimal. Caves connected to water are the most dangerous kind, you can die and it can be impossible to retrieve your corpse. They were incredibly lucky.” And with that gruesome thought in mind Katheryne walked over to the door, opening it to reveal you.

Diluc had never moved so fast in his life. Instantly you were wrapped in his embrace. You returned the gesture just as fiercely, clinging on as if he was the only thing anchoring you, keeping you from collapsing from relief, from fatigue, from the terror that had yet to dissipate.

“Oh my love, oh I’m so sorry, so deeply sorry. Forgive me, forgive me for not being there. Forgive me.” Diluc whispered, practically incoherent. You were both shaking, and when you two collapsed in the chair closest to the fire there were no words for a good many moments. The terror you’d both felt was hardly over, and you both needed to be sure that this wasn’t a dream, that it was all over, and that you were going to be fine now.

“Diluc.” You finally whispered.

“Yes my love.” Diluc replied, a tremor still in his voice. You leaned into him, head perched on his shoulder, breath tickling his neck.

“I never want to quarrel again.”

Diluc reached over to cup your face. Raising your head slightly he leaned over, brushing his lips against yours, indulging in something he thought for a moment he might never be able to do again.

“Neither do I.” He replied, voice just as soft. “And remind me never to try to restrict you again, for if I’d not been such a fool I would’ve run to your side the very evening you were trapped.”

You smiled softly, expression conveying relief and tenderness and most of all love. Leaning in for another kiss you whispered something right before your mouth collided with his.

“I will follow you wherever you go.”

Razor

Sitting at the edge of one of Wolvedom’s many cliffs, eyes trailed towards the far away walls of Monstadt, Razor wondered if he might’ve been too harsh.

It wasn’t that Razor wanted to quarrel with you, I mean you were the first and only person that he’d managed to build a sincere connection with. It was only that he’d grown up with a complete distrust of humans, and as much as he tried to bury that aspect of himself it still came to the forefront at times.

“I don’t understand what you’re so angry about Razor?” You’d exclaimed, face twisting into an expression of annoyance.

“Why do you like them?” Razor had replied, gesturing towards the people who had arrived with you, trampling their way through the forest as if everything belonged to them simply because they were human. He could practical smell the arrogance wafting off them, and it made his hair stand on edge. It was frustrating that he didn’t have the words to convey that to you.

“My guild members?” You’d said, glancing over your shoulder. “Razor I work with them. We’re going on a trip.”

“I want them to leave.” He’d practically growled, moving to take your hand in his. “I want them to leave, I want you to stay.”

“Well you can’t do that Razor.” You’d said, tone growing more and more exasperated. “And I don’t understand why you’re so hostile to them.”

“They’re human.” To Razor this was enough, but evidently the answer was hardly satisfactory to you.

“I’m human.” You’d pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Razor shook his head.

“You’re different.”

“No, I’m not. You just like me. And like it or not I’m a human, and a human who has a job to do. I can’t stay here, and I can’t stop talking to all other humans.

“Why not?” He’d shot back. “It would be better. Humans are bad creatures.”

“You keep forgetting who I am!” You’d exclaimed, shaking your head. “Whatever, I’m not arguing this with you. I’ll see you in a day. I hope that you can think about my feelings by the time this is over.”

Well the day had come and gone and there was no sight of you. Razor was too angry though to feel much remorse, no matter how much he missed you. You were probably busy anyways, talking to other humans, fraternizing with the enemy. For what else could humans possibly be? They cut down trees, killed the inhabitants of the forests. Even the wolves weren’t safe, for what farmer hadn’t taken a shot at one of them at some point in his life? No, Razor was not the one in the wrong. You were just too used to them. You couldn’t see it.

Still your absence sat wrong with him, and he found himself scouring the edges of Wolvendom the next day, trying to figure out what had happened. It wasn’t as if you didn’t know what he thought after all. And surely you wouldn’t abandon him so quickly, surely.

Razor was hardly so sure when the sun went down the next night. It seemed you were well and truly gone, though where he couldn’t tell. Maybe you really had decided to abandon him, decided he was too much of a burden, decided you preferred humans anyways. The thought ate at him, and he found himself walking around with a bitter taste in his mouth, unsure what to do.

Razor wasn’t sure what finally caused him to cross out of Wolvendom to look for you. Perhaps it was anger, perhaps it was guilt, perhaps it was that he at least wanted to say goodbye. No matter the cause however he still found himself walking on an unfamiliar path, as the woods shifted to plains. He felt vulnerable, uncomfortable without his familiar family. But it was too late to turn back now, and so he pressed ahead.

All sense of discomfort faded away upon running into you. You looked the worse for wear, covered in dirt, your clothes ragged. For a moment Razor wondered what could’ve possibly caused this. Perhaps there was a creature out there he was not aware of. Running up to you he wrapped his arms around you.

“You’re hurt.” It was more of a question than a statement, and you seemed to understand that. Returning the hug you sighed slightly.

“I was stuck in one of the shallow caves off of the Stormbearer Mountains. The passage we went through started crumbling, and I was the last one in line. It took some time to dig me out.” You laughed slightly, but there was a tremor in your voice, and you seemed ill at ease. “It was so dark in there Razor, so utterly dark. I couldn’t imagine being a creature down there, it all seemed to weigh down on me, and I thought it’d collapse and bury me at any second.”

Razor had tightened his embrace, the image seared into his mind. There was a visceral fear in his reaction, the fear of what you’d just described, but it was more complicated than that. To be down there himself was terrifying, but for you to be in that situation, and for so long, it stole the air from his lungs and weighed him down with such a sense of dread he could barely stand it.

“Humans sent you down there?” The tone of his voice was seething, but your reply was much calmer than it had been before.

“Yes. They did. But they also saved me Razor, you must remember that.”

It was something he hadn’t considered, and as he pulled away to look you in the face he pondered the implications. What he’d said was true, yes, but what you’d said was also true. They could’ve quite easily left you if they wanted, could’ve left you for dead and said there was nothing to do about it. Certainly some humans would’ve done just that, but they didn’t. Instead they helped you, for days they had dug, and thanks to that you were safe.

“I was wrong.” He said, tone straight, for it was a fact. He was wrong, at least about your people he was wrong.

“There are many evil people out there.” You said, expression pensive. “There are those who kill and rob and lie and think only about themselves. There are those who cannot see the world around them. But you can’t judge all of humanity by that. There are also those who care for every aspect of the world they can, who burden themselves with all the misfortune they see, so much it might break them. Humans are complicated Razor. So yes you were wrong, but I cannot say you were completely so.”

Razor said nothing, absorbing what you’d said. It was hard not think in black and white, something necessary sometimes for survival. But ever since you’d entered his life he wanted to try to understand you, even a little bit. And, especially after today, he’d do anything to make that effort a reality.

For though he understood little of humans and their ways he knew of one thing for sure. And that was the love he carried for you.

Xiao

Looking back it was such a stupid argument. Of course all arguments seemed idiotic looking back after what happened. But if all arguments were stupid, then surely Xiao couldn’t’ve picked a stupider one to have.

“I wish you’d see me off at the bridge.” You remarked, strapping the last of your equipment into place. You were off to do another commission, something about recording a rare species of lizard and taking photographs of some rare luminous mosses, and once again the topic of goodbyes had come up.

“I’m saying goodbye now aren’t I?” Xiao tone was as brusque as ever, but this time you didn’t brush it off with your usual smile.

“I mean it Xiao.” You said instead, turning to look him straight in the face. “I know you don’t fraternize with people, I know that you consider it a result of the burdens you carry. I know that and I don’t ask you to go and set up shop in Liyue or some such thing. I do ask you though to simply be there when I leave the city. It would mean a lot to me to have you there when I step out into the wilderness, especially when I’m going to be gone for two days. Can’t you do this for me, at least this?” You searched his eyes, expression pleading, but Xiao simply scoffed and turned his head.

“Saying goodbye here should be enough. Besides, there aren’t any people here. Would you really want me to say goodbye surrounded by prying eyes?”

“No one is going to pry.” You pointed out, voice flat with annoyance. “And to answer your question, yes, yes I would like you to be there to say goodbye. I love you dearly Xiao, more than I have ever loved anyone, more than I ever will. But I cannot love you unequally. I don’t ask for much, but I am asking for this. Please say goodbye to me at the bridge.”

But Xiao merely scowled, shaking his head violently. Huffing you turned around, everything set and ready to go.

“Sometimes I don’t know why I put myself through this.” You muttered; stomping your feet ever so slightly, and slamming the door to the room behind you.

Xiao’s sense of time was usually quite poor. To adepti days were more like minutes, and even months seemed as abundant as grains of sand. One of the things that had most surprised him about starting a relationship with you was how his sense of time was affected by it. The days with you were mere moments, and the days where you were gone dragged on and on, minutes replaced by endless boredom.

This time was no different, instead the feeling was exacerbated. Although the first two days were a blur, made meaningless by Xiao’s irritation over your final conversation, the moment the third day dawned and you were nowhere to be found time ground to a halt, and Xiao no longer became sure of what day it was, sure that a month must’ve passed instead of a few hours. You must’ve been more irritated than he’d thought.

Still the adeptus was full of pride, pride and principles. If you were staying away over something so petty so be it. He’d not be the one going after you, not when he was utterly within his rights. Why should he changed so over the request of a human? No matter how much he loved you a part of him chafed at the idea, and thus he did nothing, instead sulking the days away under the concerned eyes of Verr Goldet.

If he was filled with pride though, there was also anxiety. Day three came and went, then day four, then day five. When day six arrived Xiao’s will seemed to give up, and he spent his hours in a restless sleep, something highly unusual for the adeptus labelled the “Vigilant Yaksha”. It was if you had taken all his strength away, and what remained was nothing but anxiety and his quickly shattering anger. Surely nothing was worth this feeling of being eaten away by poison. Surely.

Night had fallen, and the moon had taken her silent vigil over the land. Xiao knew that he should get up, knew he should go after you. But it was as if he was chained to the mattress. His head was filled with static and he felt as if he were burning up. A headache had come on the moment he’d opened his eyes, and now he found he could do nothing but lay with his thoughts, each becoming darker by the moment.

He recognized the weight of your footsteps as soon as they came into earshot. Bolting up, all fatigue leaving him, he slammed open the door, taking the stairs two at a time until he finally came face to face with you.

If he was expecting something, it certainly wasn’t this. Though there was a smile on your face it was marred by the bandage on your forehead, and by the long gash on your arm.

“What happened?” The words came out in a rasp. “Who did this to you?” The weight had come back, and Xiao swayed slightly, feeling altogether faint, the range of emotions he was experiencing becoming overwhelming.

You pressed your hand to his chest, the other moving to cup his cheek. “No one did this to me.” You said, voice slightly hoarse. “One of the caves I was in collapsed, and I fell and hit my head while running away from the entrance. Thankfully it was nothing serious, and it only took them three days to get me out.”

Three days. The situation seemed torturous. Xiao was a creature of air, the mere idea of being beneath the earth was claustrophobic to him. It was to humans too, that he knew, knew from what he’d heard from Rex Lapis. The idea of you trapped underground, injured and unable to escape, it shook him to his very core.

Taking your hand in his he kissed your palm, silently thanking Rex Lapis and all the other archons for letting you come home. The situation, what you’d gone through, it was all crashing down on him. You were the most precious thing in the world, the one he loved most, the only person he would truly love, in all his years on this earth it would forever be that way. How could he take you for granted? Take your needs for granted?

“I’ll never fight with you again.” He whispered.

“I don’t know about that.” You said, smiling slightly despite it all. “Fights are hardly unheard of after all.”

“I won’t. Not about something so stupid. Not when…” he trained off for a moment, eyes clouding over. “… Anyways I won’t do it.”

“Does that mean you’ll say farewell at the bridge?” You asked, tone hopeful.

“I will.” Xiao promised. “I’ll do anything for you. For you are that which I love the most.” And leaning over to kiss you Xiao made a silent vow that he’d never let you go through anything like that. Never again.

#I never know the right time to post these #diluc #razor #xiao #diluc x reader #razor x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #requested #scenarios #my writing

861 notes · View notes

latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

Text

𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝐴 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑀𝑎𝑛 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑇𝑜 𝑌𝑜𝑢 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries.

Continuation to this reaction.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

Peeking his eyes up from the test papers he was currently grading, Hongjoong glared as he saw how the student that had recently transferred was eyeing you up. He tried to look away but it truly disgusted him to see him stare down at your legs. His hand then clenched into a tight fist as you crossed one leg over the other, exposing more of your skin which the student did not shy away from gawking at, even tilting his head to see if he could get a glimpse of something else.

As if on cue to keep him from slamming his hands on the desk, the bell rang for all the students to go back to their dorms or other living spaces.

"Miss Y/N, could you please stay a moment?"

You smirked to yourself as it seemed your plan had worked. Putting on the most innocent face you could muster, you leaned your hands on the desk in front of your teacher, purposefully bending over so your cleavage could be seen by him.

"Yes Mr. Kim? Do you require my.... assistance?" You wiggled your eyebrows at him.

Knowing what your little game was, Hongjoong slid off his chair and slowly walked to the other side of the desk. His hands went to your waist and moved you so you could face him. His bottom lip poked out while his hands went underneath your skirt to toy with the hem of your panties.

"Miss Y/N, I'm afraid these skirts of yours might prove to be too distracting for classes."

You nearly threw your head back and laughed loudly, but instead you opted for pulling your sexy teacher closer to you by his tie.

"For whom exactly? The other students.....or you?"

Hongjoong breathed in deeply when you swiped your tongue across his bottom lip.

"I would prefer it if they only distracted me." He admitted as he began sliding your panties down your legs.

You let out an amused hum as your hands began to rub across his chest, giving his nipples a little harsh tug through his button up shirt.

"Whatever happened to those words you said the other day? Remember? About not wanting to mess around anymore with the school's cum bucket?" You began prying his buttons open.

He swallowed hard as he began regretting calling you that, not knowing you didn't mind at all and instead used it to fuel your plan for revenge on him. Sighing softly, his hand cupped the back of your head.

"I don't want to hear anymore gossip or whisperings about anyone else fucking you ok? I don't even want to think about any other asshole getting their dick anywhere near here. Got it.?"

You giggled at his confession. Propping yourself up on the desk so he could fully tear your panties off you, you spread your legs out for him, letting him inhale your scent of arousal.

"Then why don't you claim it as your own? Right here, right now, on this desk?"

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Having been under a lot more stress than usual, Seonghwa was extremely irritable and often walked around with a scowl. It was starting to bother you honestly.

"If you don't want to be here, you can just leave you know." You spat out one day while you two were in bed.

Turning his face to you, he looked at you with a warning glare.

"Don't you talk to me in that tone missy."

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him.

"Last time I checked this was my house, meaning I can talk to you however I want to." You reminded him.

Grunting angrily, Seonghwa sat up and began dressing himself. It kinda had you worried that he was going to leave you for good.

"You're leaving me?" You hid away your disappointment.

"Obviously. Why would I wanna stay here any longer with a slut like you?" He didn't actually mean those words and he instantly regretted spewing them out, but he was stubborn and prideful so he simply left you without another word.

You were fuming, enraged that he'd dare just walk out on you like that. You weren't going to let him leave so easily though. And if you had to take drastic measures to ensure he'd be back in your arms, so be it.

"Slut you say? You don't even know honey." You mused to yourself.

For the next few days Seonghwa moped around his home, sighing to himself. He'd often look over the walls that separated the two of you, wondering what you were doing and if you were thinking of him. One day while his wife was out, he sat quietly on his bed, glasses on as he read one of the many books he owned. He was disrupted by a loud pounding against the wall. The obnoxiously pornographic moans gave a huge clue as to what was going on.

"Oh fuck! Your cock feels sooo good."

He gritted his teeth as he heard your voice being mixed with another male's which didn't belong to him. He slammed his book close, outraged that you'd be fucking someone else so soon.

"Oh yes! Cum inside me!"

Punching the wall, Seonghwa got off the bed and stormed out the room, not wanting to hear anymore and waited by the front door to catch a glimpse of your new lover. When he finally did see him, he scoffed at the young lad, shaking his head furiously. As soon as he left, he went straight over to your place, letting himself in as he pressed you up against the wall.

"If I remember correctly, only I was allowed to cum inside that hole of yours right?"

His snarling against your ear was making you get turned on once more, your legs parting when he drove his knee up your crotch.

"After all you did promise to give me a baby....."

He grinned evilly as he peppered kisses along your jaw.

"And I'm holding you to your word."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

He knew......he knew that sometime, sooner or later his relationship with you had to end. Only he hoped it would be much later...much later. Yunho always blamed himself. He tried to remind himself over and over again that there was absolutely deep between you two. It was strictly a no strings attached relationship.

So why was he getting bothered by someone else coming in your life hoping to steal you away? After all, if either of you wanted to see other people, you had every right to.

"What's on your mind little one?" He asked you out of nowhere earlier that day as you poked at your food, hardly taking a bite out of anything even though it included some of your favorite dishes.

You shrugged, not really wanting to talk about it. Scooting his chair closer to you, he lifted your face up so he could look at your eyes.

"Tell me." He urged you.

You still kept quiet though, afraid that if you said anything he'd be mad, hurt or anything of the sort. But Yunho only chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"Go see that boy."

You were startled by his words, wondering how on earth he knew about it.

"Go on your little date with him. Who knows? Maybe you two will hit it off or something. Have a little fun."

Although he encouraged you enthusiastically, now he was sitting on the couch watching the hours go by. It was late, well not too late, but still late. He started thinking if perhaps you would spend the night with this new guy, but his mind quickly shut away all those thoughts. He hated admitting it, but it pained him to picture you in someone else's arms. He started cursing himself for allowing his heart to develop feelings for you when you probably didn't even think of him in that way.

Little did he know you were sulky at having him encourage you to see someone else like nothing, like he did not care about you. And although you had a nice date, the guy wasn't who you wanted. The person you wanted was waiting back home no doubt, so you made it back home early, hoping he was still there, which thankfully he was.

"Hey, had fun on your-"

You didn't let Yunho finish his sentence when you suddenly straddled his lap and began kissing him fervently. He could only groan as he pulled you closer to him.

"You know I'll still take care of you? You don't have to do this if you don't want to." He pulled back to remind you that, bracing himself for your answer.

"I know.....but do you know that what I want is you?" You finally admitted, shocking Yunho to the core.

He let out an involuntary smile as he realized his feelings were indeed reciprocated on your part. Stroking your hair in an affectionate way, he pulled you into another kiss.

"You're either really young and naive, or really dumb my little one." He teased you, squishing your cheeks together.

You frowned at his teasing, hating how he constantly reminded you of your age difference and used it to baby you.

"Shut up and make love to me already old man, that is if you can even get it up."

Yunho giggled at your snarky remark, flipping positions so he could pin you on the couch.

"Trust me my little one, with you around it's impossible to keep it down."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

Yeosang was restless ever since you went on vacation. Since it was summer break and his daughter was spending time with her maternal grandmother, there was no need for you to stay with them for the time being and honestly, you deserved a nice break to enjoy yourself and go be the free, young spirit you were after spending months cooped up inside that mansion looking after an intelligent and adorably sardonic 8 year old.

His mind was no longer focused. He didn't have a lot of things to do and even the small tasks he had to do he found them too difficult. He couldn't stop thinking about you. His thoughts kept revolving back to you and the nights he spent by your side, either when he snuck inside your room or he brought you into his room while his wife was away. He was missing your body, missing you, missed talking to you as he caressed your body after a passionate night of love making.

He was in the middle of those thoughts when his trusted butler came in, the sly smile on his face signaling he had useful information.

"Well? How is she? Is she all right?" Yeosang asked, having had his butler go stalk you out and report back to him on how you were.

"Oh you'll find Miss Y/N is in good health and.... in very good hands." He let out a muffled chuckle as he placed a folder in front of his master, containing photos and all sorts of information he deemed useful and interesting enough for Yeosang to know.

Not exactly liking the taunting tone the man used, Yeosang poured over the folder's contents, his eyes narrowing in on the rather attractive young man who seemed to be on almost every picture with you. You seemed to be having a lot of fun with him given that you were going out clubbing with him always by you, his arms always draped around you. Or you'd be seeing taking walks with him, his stance too close to you for Yeosang's liking. His nose twitched in disgust and he began tearing up any photo with the young man in it.

"Get the car ready and your swimming trunks in a luggage. We're going on a little trip." Yeosang smiled passive aggressively.

"I take it Madame must not know of this?" The old man raised a curious eyebrow.

"Exactly. Precisely." Yeosang chuckled, the two partners sharing a knowing and mischievous look.

After a long night at a beach party and too many margaritas, you dragged your feet to your hotel room, nearly stumbling in due to how tipsy you were but you were caught by strong arms that you had recently been missing.

"Mr. Kang.." You immediately sobered up as you stared at his handsome face.

"Remember what we agreed on? That I want you to drop the formalities?"

You giggled as he began pressing soft kisses on your lips, one after another.

"Go on. Say it."

Giving in, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yeosang."

Sighing contentedly, Yeosang held you for a while, just enjoying your warmth as he inhaled your scent that he missed. But he soon grimaced when he detected a strange odor on you.

"You reek like him." He huffed out, clearly annoyed at smelling another man on you.

"Is that the reason you came all the way out here?" You snorted, yet flattered to know he cared that much.

You squealed as he picked you up and carried you to the bed.

"Just don't talk and let's get rid of that disgusting stench. I don't want you smelling like anyone else but me."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

San glared for the hundredth time at the classmate who lately had been irritating him to no end by coming over just to go see you at work. He rolled his eyes as he heard the airhead dick say how he didn't understand a certain assignment just to have you bend over and pour over the information with him. You were too nice to say no.

"And too dumb to notice he's only paying attention to your chest." He let out a disgruntled sigh as he organized the books on the shelf for the 7th time, not wanting to move from his spot in case the little shithead decided to try anything on you.

Wanting him to go away, he sneakily crept up behind the counter and sneakily brushed his hand across your ass, fingertips slightly ruffling the hem of your skirt.

"Y/N if you're done with your little tutoring session, I need you to help me look over the accounting ok?"

You nodded, realizing you had wasted enough of your boss's time. Giving your classmate an apologetic smile, you told him you'd help him some other time. Although saddened by not spending more time with you, he did not want you to lose your job or get you in trouble.

"You truly are an angel Y/N. What would I ever do without you?" He pouted at you, trying to look as cute as possible.

"I'm sure your hand has kept you company quite nicely all these years, you'll be fine." San couldn't help but smirk as he said that loud enough for both of you to hear, shocking you and embarrassing your classmate, who quickly walked out of the book shop with his head lowered.

Not very happy with his little joke, you looked over at your boss who had his back turned to you as his eyes stared at the computer screen.

"That was rather rude and disrespectful don't you think?" You shook your head at him.

"Not as rude and disrespectful as annoying someone at their job with lame excuses just so they can get a peek at a nipple or an ass cheek." He replied nonchalantly, unbothered and unrepentant of his behavior.

You let out a sarcastic laugh.

"That's a bit rich coming from you don't you think? Given all the times you've stared at me when I've bent down or stood on top of the stool." You reminded him.

Turning his head to look at you, San smiled at you with such a deceivingly sweet smile, accentuating his cute dimples that never failed to make you melt.

"See here now my young apprentice, if I remember correctly, you would purposefully bend over just for me, you were begging me to check you out, even started cutting the length of these skirts so I'd look at your legs."

Humming softly, your hands went to his collared shirt, undoing the top buttons to expose the top of his chest.

"Guilty as charged then Boss..... so... are you gonna write me up or cut my pay for slacking off at work yet again?" You taunted him as you brushed your lips against his.

Playing along with your little game, San chuckled and gripped your waist.

"Oh no my little apprentice. I'm not that type of boss. I prefer a different punishment."

You let out a gasp as he suddenly turned you around and pressed your upper body down against the glass case, his foot separating your legs apart as he fumbled with his belt.

"I'm gonna bend you over and fuck that pretty ass of yours til it's stretched open."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

You were starting to get pissed off at the thought of Mingi blowing you off on yet another date. It was the third time he had done it and you were starting to get fed up honestly.

"For someone who claims to be responsible and mature he sure can't seem to freaking keep his word." She muttered angrily to yourself as you swirled the leftover ice in your drink.

Out of nowhere, a young stud slid onto the seat right in front of you. With two drinks in hand, he slid one of them across to you. You eyed the drink suspiciously, wondering if he was one of those types to add some kind of drug just so he could easily kidnap you or something.

"Relax doll face, I promise I didn't spike it or anything." He assured you.

Shrugging and realizing you had nothing to loose, you instantly downed the drink with ease. You tried not to grimace at the fruity beverage the stranger got you.

"What does he take me for? A little pussy that drinks bitch beers?" You thought to yourself, though you couldn't blame him. You were pretty young and most mistook your youth for inexperience or naivety. Little did they know you could down the hardest of liquors down as if it was water.

"Tell me doll face, why are you here all alone? Looking all moody and dejected?"

You pondered on whether you should really say anything or make up something. Neither it seems. You opted for a more vague explanation.

"Just tired of being stood up I guess. No biggie." You rolled your shoulders back.

The man looked at you with a sad and pitiful look. He began to wonder why would anyone stand up such a beautiful and gorgeous woman like yourself? Whoever they were, they were either stupid or blind.

"Well the night is still young. Why don't you come back with me to my place and have a little fun? No strings attached and I can promise you you'll be more than satisfied." He offered, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

You looked him up and down. Truthfully you'd turn him down merely for being so close to your age, still not very attracted to younger males, given that they promised more than they could offer. But sizing him up, he seemed to be well endowed, definitely above average. And besides you were frustrated by Mingi blowing you off that it wouldn't hurt to have a little rendezvous with someone else.

Sensing your hesitation, he smirked and began pulling your chair closer to him, his hand slithering its way up your skirt.

"Trust me doll face. You have nothing to worry about."

"No but you will if you don't take off your filthy hands off her right now."

You were startled yet amused when Mingi popped out of nowhere and pushed the guy's hand off you before grabbing your arm and pulling you up.

"Come on let's go. We're leaving." He gave you no choice as he began dragging you away, only to be stopped by the young man as he stepped in front of you two.

"Hold on here, you can't just haul her away like that. What are you? Her dad?" He scoffed, arms crossed as he looked Mingi up and down with disdain.

Instead of getting offended, Mingi simply smirked as he slipped his hand around your waist, pressing your body against his.

"Yeah, I'm her daddy, at least that's what she calls me at night."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Wooyoung's eyes pierced daggers into the man that was currently talking to you. He had seen him countless times at the strip club where you used to work. He knew the man had more than just a crush on you, he was practically obsessed with you. More than once he had tried to get a private show from you but Wooyoung always made sure those plans were thwarted since he didn't want anyone else looking let alone touching his prized possession. Hence why he took you out of there and kept you all to himself.

And now he was fuming at this crazed fan of yours wanting to get close to you once more, no doubt trying to get in your pants. He saw how he kept leaning close to you or stepping up to you. Each time he did, you would step away, slightly uncomfortable by his close proximity and even more uncomfortable at how he talked with so much detail about your previous performances at the club, detailing things that not even you remembered.

"You know I don't even go there anymore. It's a waste of time." He admitted, a frown on his face.

"Oh really?." You asked, trying hard to hide your sarcasm, not really interested in anything he had to say.

"Yeah, you're not there anymore so what's the point? Although...."

You froze in place when his hands came up to cup your chin.

"I would give anything to see you strip one last time." He winked at you.

His hand was harshly pulled away from you by Wooyoung, who shoved him so hardly he actually landed on the floor.

"Too bad you're never going to see that ever again you punk."

Linking your arm with his, Wooyoung dragged you back to the car where he then drove full speed back to your apartment. As soon as you both stepped inside, his hands were all over you, mouth devouring your own as a trail of clothes leading into your bedroom was scattered on the hallway. You had never seen Wooyoung jealous before and it turned you on so much. His possessiveness was even more evident as his nails dug into your skin, his hips slamming into your ass as his cock plunged deep inside you, threatening to pull another orgasm out of your body.

"You're my little whore, no one else's."

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to strike one of your already burning cheeks once more, his hand printed all over your ass.

"My little fuck toy that I can play with as I want." He growled, pistoning his cock even deeper in you.

"Ah! Yes! I'm your toy Wooyoung!" You cried out, breathing heavily and whimpering loudly as tears streaked down your cheeks, your vision starting to go blank once more as you felt yourself ready to burst once more around Wooyoung's cock.

"Fuck! Yeah. My little fuck toy. All mine and no one else's."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Jongho fought hard not to scoff or roll his eyes at the man sitting across from both you and him. He was a nice young man that recently started working for your father, very responsible and efficient. And your father liked him so much he took it upon himself to have the two of you meet up in with hopes of getting you two together. The man of course was elated by you. You were so pretty and charming and was already head over heels for you.

Jongho and you were not very happy about it though, Jongho more displeased than you. At least you could mask your dislike of him better, being all smiles and kind to him. It honestly sickened Jongho seeking you be all fake, proper and polite when he knew better than anyone your true character.

"Sweetheart, you know this young man was the one who suggested we strike that deal with that other company? And his plan worked out brilliantly." Your father couldn't stop gloating about the man's accomplishments.

"Oh really? Do tell me all about it." You feigned interest.

"Oh my fucking god, I swear to hell-" Jongho fought back the urge to slam his fork against his plate, not wanting to listen to another boring and excruciatingly painful gloating from the idiot in front of them.

Minutes into the story and Jongho was already dozing off, bored to death by the incessant chatter coming from the man across you both. Looking over at you, he could tell you were bored too. A wicked plan came to his head. But you were both bored so why not make it fun. You at first thought nothing about having him press a hand on your thigh under the table, he'd often do that every now and then. But you started to worry when he began to travel his hand further up to cup your clothed heat. It was such a risky thing to do at the dinner table, with your parents and a guest right there. You tried to stop him when he tried to tug your underwear down, but were met by a pinch against your inner thigh. You covered your mouth with your napkin and pretended to cough in order to hide the squeak that escaped you. Giving in, you slightly lifted yourself off your chair and let Jongho slide your panties down.

He pretended to drop his phone just so he could stoop down and pick up your panties off the floor. You watched as he stuffed them in his pocket, the corners of his lips curling into a smirk. Suddenly you felt your phone vibrate in your purse. Glancing briefly, you saw a text from none other than your secret lover right next to you.

"After dinner. My place. You're lucky you're off for the next few days cause I'll make sure you won't be able to walk after I'm done with you."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez smut #ateez angst #dilf!ateez #ateez dilf au #ateez headcanons #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho

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honeypiehotchner · 3 years

Text

My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x soulmate!reader #tom hiddleston soulmate au #soulmate au #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #completely self indulgent #as always

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wheelsup · 3 years

Text

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon.

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you.

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger.

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week.

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept.

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling.

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you.

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!”

Your head just about exploded when she said that.

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you.

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.”

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless?

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.”

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim.

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured.

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?”

“That his girlfriend died last year.”

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there.

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit.

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…”

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.”

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from.

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not.

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made.

“There’s nothing I need from you.”

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?”

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea.

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more.

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off.

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.”

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch.

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!”

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales.

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets.

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down.

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works.

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so.

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.”

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend.

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?”

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income.

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended.

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill.

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe.

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.”

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped.

“Did you need something?”

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!”

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.”

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line.

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?”

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.”

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care.

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him.

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.”

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency.

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that.

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here.

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?”

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.”

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before.

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath.

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly.

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.”

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer.

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you.

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems.

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that.

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that.

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him.

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.”

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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series only taglist: @madsgraygubler @manuosorioh @fanfictionfangirl04@donkeykongsmassiveballs @rexorangecouny @iwannabemorethanme@mlqcool @lightning-butterfly

new tags not working: @strawberrycherrykisses @marrymespencerreid @iilwsr @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116

(and just so you don’t think i removed you from the taglist/sign up again without knowing, these tags are. also not working): @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid slow burn #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid enemies to lovers #criminal minds fic #mgg

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